#i used to be the ‘thing eyebrows for women thick eyebrows for men’ type of person

[summercreolefanfictioner]

@secretarykang you know I love makeup so yeah here's a lengthy post for my fave girl based on your ask

tw: sexual assault

maya sakamaki: makeup headcanons

makeup is actually something maya has been aware of since she was brought to the brothel (childhood days 😭😭😭)

there has never been a day where she saw the women put on tons of white powder or makeup on their face and paint their lips bright red bcos men like it when you leave stain on them

maya has touched them once but due to her fear of becoming a main target of the customers, she decided she has to be somewhat ordinary so these men won't call for her (imagine old bastards wanting to rape a child dafuq)

the only time she used makeup again is whenever gilbert would take her to parties in the human world and disguise her as his "daughter"

other than that, maya mostly kept herself bare since she had a hard time finding makeup products that suit her dry skin (like her skin's as dry as the sahara desert)

she just got lucky with kanato in terms of the makeup department bcos fun fact: kanato knows a whole sht of makeup, even bought products that suit her face and skin tone

maya's color palette is basically more on the cherry pink side of things? she's basically a winter cool type of girl so colors on the cooler scale of the spectrum works for her

tbh she leans more on the Japanese side of makeup, meaning more emphasis on the eyes rather than the lips along with cool toned palettes

for base makeup, she opts for light ones like a tinted moisturizer since she doesn't have to worry abt them being thick or something. however, she doesn't wear them at school bcos she's afraid the teachers will notice and have it removed from her (some schools in Japan forbid female students from wearing excessive makeup tho but I think Ryoutei is a different case)

ofc maya's eye makeup is on point since Japanese makeup is all about the eyes so she always has her eyebrow along with her subtle eyeliner and mascara (yes they are all waterproof bcos Japan nailed their products like that)

the same thing applies for her blush bcos apparently the drunk blush technique is famous in Japan way waaaaaaaay back so she puts a bit of her liquid blush on the apples of her cheek and spread them evenly (kinda like baby doll cheeks vibes)

for her lips, she uses 3 to 4 products, depending on the occasion cause maya's lips are so pale so she had to paint a bit of color in them (ya know so no one would think she's a vampire lol)

at school, she only uses her favorite Benetint and tops it with her cherry lip oil. sometimes she would wear her Opera Lip Tint no 12 especially when her lips are so dry but if she needed something vibrant, especially during her dates with kanato or when they attend a party, that's when she whips out her pinkish red glossy tint.

she actually doesn't wear any powdery products on her face since they have this tendency to create kinda like a clumping texture on her skin so when she's not wearing any base makeup, she would just go for a handy moisturizer (I wanna say sunscreen then I remembered she has night classes)

but overall maya dons a natural pink makeup that hides her true self as the vampire doll, unassuming yet dangerous to those who dare touch her without permission

[frosty-oak]

Sevenish English students and fiveish jugs of Pim’s

First act

I was in a Bristol Wetherspoon’s the other night (the one by Will’s if you’re a student), out for a drink to celebrate finishing my first essay. Three of five people had cancelled on me but I was determined to make friends and be sociable. While waiting at the bar I was telling the one person who had arrived that she had a very nice jacket, and the red converses (matching mine) were a nice touch. I worried that it seemed like I was flirting, so I made an offhand, not-very-subtle comment about my girlfriend, mostly because women do love my awkward charm and confused dress sense, but especially because of my strong feminist values (and social anxiety.) Once I finally had my pint of (really very cheap and slightly crap) Thatchers, we managed to find the only other person who had actually shown up; luckily with a host of friends. I awkwardly sat at the edge, introduced myself to five or so people, forgot all of their names and tried not to stare at the huge amount of empty glasses and pitchers on the table.

Main course

I began to stereotype slash categorise everyone at the table, deciding that Mary (not her real name) definitely listened to Lana Del Ray, and Harvey (not a real name either!) was a film buff who stumbled into the interesting side of socially clumsy. He also had a tendency to ask me about a selection of interesting films and books in rapid succession which went a little like this:

“Theo (that one is a real name), have you ever seen The Piano Teacher?”

“No sorry, why is it good?”

“Its alright. Whiplash?”

“Oh yeah that one was really good.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

And then the conversation would move elsewhere, I still haven’t figured out if there was a connection or he was just understanding/categorising me in his own way. Mary was then told off for vaping inside, it turns out that Spoons is surprisingly strict on the rules, as any seventeen year old trying to stay past nine PM will discover.

Chapter three

Things then took an interesting turn somewhere between ordering my second pint and it still not bloody arriving nine minutes later. Timothy (that ones definitely not her name, I’m bad at aliases) was telling us about her ‘type’ for some reason or other, and this was when my long standing theory  that an amazing amount of people have terrible taste in men was proved right. Timothy (I will get a better name eventually) described her type as “tall” going fine so far “brown hair” still fine “and emotionally unavailable” and oh dear we’ve fucked it. Someone else then said that they had a thing for men who were “mostly not into me” which is funny but also just bad, but then I was asked and got lots of brownie points by saying “my girlfriend” and showing a picture of her looking as gorgeous as ever (I normally get her to edit these so hi darling!) Despite what you might guess though, Timothy’s love-life is going absolutely fine! I’m kidding she committed flatcest immediately and then he shagged his ex the same day, and also he’s just a dick in general.

The fourth bit.

It was about when my pint finally did arrive and Mary had been warned for the last time, again, not to vape indoors that two new people arrived who looked a tiny bit like GTA characters. There was a bloke called Jacob or something (that actually might be his name I’m quite bad with names) and he had thick rimmed glasses and was unbelievably Bristol with his third Gallagher brother look and most importantly he started telling me about how he was doing a DJ set at a local club that was only for members. Which actually sounded like a lovely time but also unbelievably Bristol. He arrived with his friend who was the other side of the Bristol coin, with a collection of necklaces and bracelets along with bleached eyebrows. I didn’t actually manage to chat to her much but I did hear the stream of indie-post-pre-punk-queer-grunge-pop-indie bands that were being discussed and sounded quite good.

Around this time someone called smoke break and everyone disappeared and I quickly realised I was being left with a selection of coats and bags as I sat awkwardly (and slightly pissed as I had been to the bar to get a pint repeatedly) and waited for everyone to arrive so I could make my exit. Everyone has had that moment, generally in a bathroom but when you are quite drunk and are suddenly left with your thoughts and time sloooows doooowwwwwnn. Suddenly you are desperately trying to find entertainment in anything nearby, waiting for Instagram to load because somehow this corner of Spoons is a faraday cage. Just after the nearest ice age had came and went Mary reappeared and I made to leave but she convinced me to stay just a little longer until everyone else arrived.

The Final Act

In the final act of the night, we sat and discussed the tense, difficult and upsetting situation with her ex, which despite the many pints between us was actually a very interesting conversation. Unfortunately we were cut short by the bouncer arriving directly as Mary had raised her vape to her lips and he slowly marched over. Fair cop, and he was very lovely about it but we did have to go. I hovered outside and made a bit of chat as people smoked and finally said my goodbyes and headed for home. Uphill of course, its Bristol.

[softboywriting]

Little Moments | Billy Russo

Summary: Tension in familiarity leads to confessions after a terrifying event. [Billy Russo x Reader] [Violence] [Blood] [Gunshots] [Assistant!Reader] [Alternate Timeline - Castle family not mentioned/never happened] [Fluff] 

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: This is my first Billy Russo fic, we’ll see where this goes yeah?

Just over a year ago you took a position as an assistant with Anvil. The job wasn't too bad, basically you took care of paying the bills for the facility, keeping inventory of supplies and equipment, scheduling appointments and keeping track of who was deployed where and why while keeping tabs on them and their duties while on deployment from Anvil. You had done work like this before, managing in a grocery store in your early twenties. It wasn't all that different, just instead of managing products you managed people. No the job was not difficult but your boss. Well. He was something else. 

William "Billy" Russo was a force to be reckoned with. Intelligent, handsome, cunning. His smile could kill. His eyes...they were something all their own. To say Billy was attractive was an understatement. But attraction was only part of the problem. The other part is his sharp tongue, quick wit and dry sarcasm. A year of sharing an office with him had put you on edge. You never know what he would do next, what he would say next. Some days you wish you could fuck him right there in that expensive leather rolling chair behind his desk. Other's you want to rip his leg off and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. The two of you got close, going back and forth with playful banter almost daily. It's like you’re always on the edge of being something more, if one of you would just make the first move.

Things finally come to a head one day when you've got a particularly large workload on your plate and Billy has decided to go on one of his little rants about who knows what, you tune him out. He is always coming into the office and talking to himself. Maybe he is talking to you, but you rarely participate in the conversation. At first you thought he was on a call, using a headset or something, but no. He just talks, and he talks a lot.

"Can you shut up for five fucking minutes?" You snap, head pounding from eye strain. You've been at the computer for six hours now, and you're trying to transcribe a call from one of his units over in Turkey about a job. Billy's mindless chatter has gotten on your last nerve today. 

Billy stops, falling silent somewhere near his desk. The room becomes thick, heavy with tension as you both remain silent. You've never snapped at him, not seriously. You've told him to go fuck himself but in a playful way. This was too real. Too loaded. He's your boss. Fuck.

You're not one to apologize when you're not actually sorry though. You remain silent, knowing he expects you to say something. He wants you to take back your words but you won't. 

"How much work do you have left?" 

Your eyes flick from the screen to him. He looks flushed. Angry? No. His eyes hold no malice. He looks aroused. No way. A cold sweat runs down your back. He must be livid. "I'm transcribing a call right now then I have to make copies of some invoices, order new foam guards for the weight benches and-"

"Finish the call. Then go home."

"Yes, sir."

Billy pushes off his desk and exits the room, leaving the door open behind him. You know that he isn't happy with your little outburst. You just don't know why he won't say as much. He looks turned on if you didn't know better. Or do you? 

The rest of the call goes smoothly now you don't have to pause every few seconds to rewind and listen to it to make out exactly what the unit leader was saying over Billy's chatter. You wrap up and head out as you were told. On the way out you pass Billy with a few of his higher up employees.

"Good night, Mr. Russo." You say softly with a hand raised in a wave. You always call him by his last name around other people. It's not much of a gesture but you want to keep things calm and civil. He nods, face unreadable, and gives a little raise of his hand as well. More than you expected, and it puts you at ease that you might keep your job. 

_____________________

"I'll have my assistant arrange the payment from you after the contract is finalized." 

You stop by the door to the meeting room to listen in. The men in the room with Billy are potential clients, men who want private security for multiple locations. You had greeted them when they arrived and showed them to the meeting room. They rubbed you the wrong way. You met a lot of men and women in your year at Anvil, a lot of different people from different walks of life. None of them made you as uncomfortable as these men had. You step away from the door and go to the office. If Billy wants to get in bed with them then let him. That's not your call.

"Let me grab the paperwork from my assistant." You hear through the closed door and Billy steps in, closing it behind him. "Can you give me a new client contract?" 

"Sure." You pull open the file drawer on your right and thumb through the papers. "They must be very promising work."

Billy leans on the side of the desk, quirking an eyebrow up at you. "What's got you so mouthy lately?" 

You cut him a glare and he chuckles. 

"You don't like them?"

"I'm not fond." 

"Why?" 

"They feel wrong." You extract a thick booklet of paper and hand it to Billy. "But let's not pretend you care what I think, Mr. Russo."

Billy rolls his eyes at the formalities. "You know damn well I value your input just like I do from any other person who works for me. Talk to me."

You sit up and lean back in your chair, eyes on his, your heart pounding. He's looking at you so attentively it's hard to focus. Those eyes, so soft and warm staring back at you. Fuck. He could make you spill the truth about everything without trying. "They give me a bad feeling. The second I greeted them they just...felt bad? I can't explain it."

"We work with a lot of morally gray people in our line of business, sweetheart." Billy leans back, hands spreading out on the desk. His hands, fuck they're nice. "But I will never ignore a gut instinct."

"So you won't sign the contract with them?" 

"I'll do some more investigation before I do. Talk to a few friends in high places."

You nod and slide forward to sit at the computer, closer to him. What a mistake. You can smell his cologne, his heat is pouring into your knee beside his. It takes everything in you to keep your eyes forward on the computer. He reaches over and lays a hand on your shoulder, making your body flush with heat. Why did he have to touch you? 

"Yes?" You ask, sparing a quick glance up at him. Mistake. He's staring down at you with those beautiful obsidian eyes. God they're so big and he's such a-

"Thank you."

"For what?" 

"For telling me. You've never come to me like this before about a client. I like it."

"Oh. Well it's your business so-" 

Billy leans in close to your ear and you feel that cold sweat return from when you told him to shut up. This time it's not fear or panic, it's arousal? The closeness is getting to you, your head is swimming. "You're just as important to me as this company. Remember that." 

You nod.

"Couldn't hear you."

"Y-yeah. Yes. I will."

He pushes off the desk and slides the papers he had been leaning against closer to you before he picks up the contract and smacks it against his hand a few times. "Will you set up a meeting with the Rodgers Estate for later?"

You grab a pen and scribble it in your planner. "Got it Mr. Russo."

"One more thing." He says and you look up. His hand is on the door handle. "Have a drink and relax? You're a little wound up lately. And drop the Mr. Russo shit, call me Billy when we're alone. You know that." He smiles and gives you a wink before slipping out the door to meet the clients in the hall.  

A drink? You need a week off, a spa getaway and a new career. Billy Russo is driving you up a wall and he doesn't even see it. Or maybe he does. Shit. 

_____________

A week later. Just before eight in the morning you're settled into your desk, ready to start going through some new shipment invoices when you hear a commotion downstairs. It isn't unusual for the trainees to get out of hand from time to time, fights break out, things get heated. You dismiss it and go about your work. 

"Six new treadmills? What the hell are these people doing to them?" You sigh and type the invoice number for Sports Equipmentz LTD into your system. "Billy is gonna get an ear full for this one."

There is more comotion and you look at the closed door. Another fight? Billy doesn't stand for that kind of stuff on the training floor. He would have stopped it by now. Actually, no one should be in the facility except you and Billy this early. What the hell is that noise.

You push up from the desk and go to the window beside the door, peeking through the blinds. From what you can see nothing looks out of balance. Then you hear gunshots and your stomach churns, cold and sick. There is no live fire allowed in the facility. All firearm training is done off site. 

"Fuck." You flip the lock on the door and look around for something to barricade the floor to ceiling window beside the door. There is nothing you can move alone. You flip off the light and head to your desk, grab your phone and dial Billy's number. 

No answer. You sink down under the desk and pull the chair in close. Maybe if someone does get in they will think the office is empty and move on since the desk looks unused. You reach over and shut down the computer tower, then reach up and pull down all your paperwork to clear the desk. 

Thumping from the bathroom on the other side of the office makes your heart pound. Someone is on the upper floor with you. A gunshot. Tears well up in your eyes. Why didn't you let Billy get you a conceal and carry? Why didn't you do that gun training six months ago? Because you're afraid of guns and you couldn't trust yourself not to hurt someone on accident. Fuck. Fuck! 

The door handle jiggles. You cover your mouth and try dialing Billy again. The phone disconnects as soon as it rings once. Goes straight to a voicemail. You can't remember if he is with a client today. There are voices outside the door, then a gunshot so loud you know it's just on the other side. You close your eyes, press your face into your knees and try to imagine you are invisible. 

The door opens, not with a kick, but unlocked and you can't breathe. You can't move. They're moving around the room. Billy's desk first. Papers are rustled, then the footsteps grow closer. You shrink yourself smaller, arms in pain from holding your knees so tight. 

"If they took you, I swear to God I will-...there you are." 

You look up and Billy is knelt down, arm on the desk as he looks at you. He's a fucking mess of what you can only assume is blood and God knows what. "Billy, oh god for fucks sake." You cry and he shoves the chair away to pull you out onto his lap. 

Never have you clung to someone so hard in your entire life. You press your face into his neck, hand digging into his back harshly as you cry in relief. 

His hand slides up your back and cradles your ribs on the left. "Hey, hey." He murmurs softly and you stop crying so hard. " What did I promise you when I hired you?" 

"That I would be safe. That no matter what I would be safe and a-all I had to do was paperw-work." 

"That's right." Billy pulls you back gently, tugging your shirt to guide you. He looks horrible, but none of it seems to be from his own injuries. "Aw, fuck. You're a mess now." 

You look down at your shirt and it's got blood on it. "Oh god. Oh god wh-who..."

Billy shakes his head. "Don't think about it too much." He presses a kiss to your temple, hand on the back of your head. "Close your eyes, don't look at it."

"What happened?" 

"I'll tell you later."

"I didn't know what to do."

"Hey, no, no shh. You were a good girl. You stayed quiet, stayed down and locked the door." He rubs your back and pats your side. "We're going to get out of here and I'll handle the situation from the apartment."

You nod and peek your eyes open for a second. "It's bad out there isn't it?" 

"It's not pretty. I'll get you outside and we'll get out of here, don't worry." 

"Okay."

_____________________

You had never been to Billy's place. Never had a reason to go. It's more industrial than you expected, modern industrial chic. Posh. Very expensive obviously, but that was Billy. Well dressed, well spoken. He looked the part to play the part. 

He set you up in a large bathroom and gave you clothes, a shirt and a pair of pajama pants. They might fit alright, Billy is quite a bit slimmer than you are in the hips and thighs. 

You look in the mirror and clench your jaw. Your peachy colored blouse is ruined, your sweater is fucked. Your face. God your face has someone else's blood on it. Across your cheek and nose where you had pressed your face into Billy's neck. 

There is a pile of washcloths and you grab a few, soaking them and scrubbing at your skin. You pull your clothes off fervently, desperate to be clean of strange blood. The shower is large, open and ready to be used. So you do. You get in and turn the water on and sit on the floor, processing. It was all a blur. Everything happened so fast. Was it even real?

Some time passes and you see the door open. The water is getting lukewarm as it cascades over your skin. You don't even care if he sees you naked you're so out of your own head. 

"I'm going to head to Anvil. The police have arrived to investigate the break in."

"Okay." You croak, not looking away from the wall opposite you.

"You can stay." Billy walks into the room and leans over the shower to turn the water off. He squats down beside you and offers you a towel from the warmer by the toilet. "Mind getting out of there for me?"

"Billy, what happened?" You look over at him and he looks...normal. He's in a blue sweater, dark jeans, boots. It's the most casual you've ever seen him. He's always been a suit man to you. Here he looks like a guy you'd meet at a bar and share a few beers with. The guy you'd take home and laugh about jokes with from stupid comedian on TV. It's strange, but warming. 

He helps you up and wraps you in the fluffy gray towel. "Your feeling? About the clients I met with?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You were right." He slicks your hair back off of your face. "They got wind that I was looking further into why they wanted my employees. It was for a human trafficking operation. I don't do human trafficking, and I was going to decline the offer. Some snitch at the Rodgers Estate let it out that I was asking questions. I guess they thought they could clear their tracks by killing me."

"O-oh."

"Mmm. I didn't think they would do something in broad daylight but here we are. Amatures." Billy steps back and runs a hand over his hair. "I called the police, said that I got a notification that the building had been beached through an unauthorized entrance. It's not a lie. Technically they did. Thankfully I wasn't there."

You step out of the shower and grab the clothes he gave you from the counter. "But you were. You...you killed those men." 

"No, I incapacitated them." He crosses his arms and pulls his lower lip between his teeth. "It was me and you or them. We were the only ones in that facility. I wasn't going to let them hurt you."

"H-how do you explain that?" You sit on the toilet and Billy leans on the doorframe. "What if-" 

"That's my job sweetheart. You worry about yourself, here. I gotta go meet the cops." He pats the wood a few times and looks out into the hall. "Call me if you need anything. I promise I'll answer no matter what."

You nod. 

"I'll be back later."

____________________

Hours pass and you become familiar with the apartment. It's huge, the penthouse of a very expensive building downtown. It has two bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen and dining area, a living room, a balcony that wraps around and has a fire pit and a small private pool. It's more luxury than you could ever afford. Not that Anvil doesn't pay well, because it does. This is just far more than you could ever make. 

In Billy's room there aren't any personal touches. It's clean, picture perfect even. Like at any moment someone could come and take photos to sell the place. There is a picture on his bedside table, the only thing that isn't straight from a design catalog. It's you and Billy with a few investors. Your first meeting he ever brought you to. How could you forget? He bought you the dress literally an hour before the meeting because yours ripped in the back. It was possibly the most embarrassing thing you've ever done in front of a boss. He didn't make you feel bad or anything, he simply asked your size, stopped at a shop on the way to the dinner and got you a dress. It was just that easy, that normal. 

You set the photo down and lay back. Your eyes close and you imagine what Billy is like outside of work. Of course you've gotten a taste of that, all the banter and shared stories. Nothing too deep but enough to keep conversation going. You probably shared more than him, way more. It was like when you started talking to someone you couldn't stop. You just, information overload the poor person. Usually people get spooked away, or they tell you that they don't care or don't need to know. Not Billy. He just listened, gaze fixed on you while you talked. Maybe that's why you like him so much. He listened. He cared. 

"Cozy?" 

You roll over and open your eyes to find Billy in the doorway to his room. "You're back. I didn't hear you come in?" 

"There is a bed in the other room y'know?" He chuckles as he goes to sit at the end of the bed and pull his boots off. "Or do you just like mine because it's bigger?" 

"Oh yeah, yours is much bigger. Comfier too." 

He hums. "Go through all my shit?" 

"You know it." 

"There's my girl." He looks back and he's smiling. "I was getting worried about you. You seemed pretty shaken up."

You sigh and shake your head. Of course Billy doesn't think about how you've never been in a dangerous situation short of falling from a tree when you were ten. To him gunfire and blood were in a day's work as an ex marine special operations. "I think I'd be more worried about you."

Billy turns and crawls up the bed, leaning with his head on his hand, elbow propping him up. "Why's that?" 

"Been a while since you saw live action hasn't it? You're not worried about PTSD?"

"I've seen plenty of action since I got out. I know the risk I take running the company I do. It hasn't happened before now but it was bound to eventually."

"Right, yeah."

"Do I scare you?" 

You shake your head. "No, not really. I know you've done things, seen things that I couldn't even imagine. It's part of who you are, who you were." 

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that. It was them or us. You know that right?" 

"Y-yeah. I know." You pick at the bedspread and he bumps his hand against your knee. 

"You alright? I tried to keep you...away from it. I know you aren't like everyone else."

"I'm not ex military you mean." You feel your chest tighten. "I'm a civilian. I can't defend myself." 

Billy sits up and lays a hand on your back. "Hey, hey."

"I shouldn't stay at Anvil. I should just go somewhere else. I can't do this, Billy, I'm scared what if this happened again?" Tears spill over and down your face. "I-I can't." 

"I will never let anything happen to you." He turns your face to look at him. He's warm, his lips plush, eyes on yours. "You can work from home if you want. I'll stop by and bother you and make you tell me to shut up." He smiles a little as your lips turn up at the telling him to shut up part. "You like that?"

"I don't know, but I think you do." 

Billy laughs softly, his smile wide. "Maybe I do. You noticed that?" 

"Maybe." You wipe your eyes and he brushes a stray tear away with his thumb. "Why do you care so much? I'm just your assistant." 

"Because I love you."

"W-what?" You hiccup as your breathing stops for a moment. 

"You're like family. I trust you with everything, I tell you everything, you're my girl." Billy runs a hand through your hair. "I can't lose you." 

"I don't-...I'm just-" 

His lips press against yours and your eyes fall closed. It's an innocent kiss, soft and loving. "If I read this wrong all this time, you gotta tell me." He murmurs, head pressed to yours. 

"No, you didn't. I just, you just caught me off guard." 

"Yeah?" He smiles, nose scrunching up against yours. He places his fingers under your chin and tilts your head up to kiss you again briefly. "You're sure it's okay?" 

You nod and he pulls back to kiss your temple, holding his nose to your hair and cradling the back of your head. 

"Get some rest, I've got some calls to make." He climbs off the bed and heads for the door. 

"Are you leaving?" 

"No." 

"Good." 

He walks back quickly and kisses your cheek. "I mean it. Get some rest."

"I would if you'd just go already."

"Oh. You think you can just get rid of me?" He crawls back on the bed and you fall back as he straddles your hips. "You think you can boss me around huh?" He starts tickling your sides and you squeal, thrashing under his surprisingly strong hold. 

"Stop! Stop! I yield!" 

Billy stops and bends over, bracketing your head with his arms. "I knew you'd be fun to torment outside of that stuffy office." 

"I hate tickling." 

"Oh that's very obvious. I've made a mental note, highlighted it in yellow and everything." He bumps his nose against yours. "I'm gonna find everything that makes you tick." 

You reach up and run a hand over his hair that's flopping forward from lack of product. "Expect to get as much as you give." 

"Oh I do." His lips ghost over yours as he speaks. "I look forward to it." 

You shove his head to the side and he flops over. "Don't you have calls to make?" 

"Maybe." 

"Go make your calls. I'm going to stink up your bed and rifle through your drawers more." 

"I expect no less." He says, getting up and going to the door once more. "Let me know if you find anything you like, yeah?" 

"Get out!" 

He just cackles and you close your eyes. This is really happening. Funny how the world works in mysterious ways. You never thought you'd be the one to snatch Billy Russo off the market but here you are, and you're pretty damn proud of it. 

The end 

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Header image by delicate-venus

Thank you so much for reading, please reblog to support content creators. -A

[sunflowersteves]

feel your touch || g.r.

summary || Geralt wasn’t used to your gentle and soft touches, but he never wanted them to stop either. 

author’s note || ok this is dedicated to @borkingbarnes​ because it’s v much inspired by this post and bee u are a wonderful amazing human being for thinking of touch starved geralt. hope you all enjoy!!

warnings || so much fluff, insecurity, touch starvation, soft!geralt, some angst, NC-17, not edited (oops)

masterlist

Geralt of Rivia was a plethora of things. He was a warrior, a tracker, a magic holder, a skilled fighter, and a monster hunter. But, he wasn’t a passionate lover. In fact, he wasn’t a lover at all. In the one-hundred years he has been alive, he’s never had a lover.

He’s had little nightly adventures with many women to cease any tensions he had. They were one singular night, the sheets pooled around him, and whoever was in bed with him. And every single time, there was always a mutual agreement that there would be no attachments except that of sweaty bodies. 

He had previously thought that emotions got in the way of things. Feelings and sentiments always get him in some type of trouble, so he vowed never to let them get to him. He always chooses to hold people at least five feet away from him at all times, even close friends like Yennefer and Jaskier. 

That is until you came along. 

You were like a breath of fresh air, light and flowing in the sunny breeze, but you were also a force that crashed up against rocks during a storm against the ocean shore. It had shocked the stone cold Witcher that you had held such an effect on him. 

It struck him so suddenly, like lightning; it was fast and hard. He thought of things he had never done so before. His mutated heart beat faster and faster when all you did was grin at him underneath the sunlight. 

He suddenly wanted to be a good lover for you, and Geralt had no clue how to deal with such feelings. He had never dealt with such desperation to be near you, such wanting that surrounded him constantly. He wanted to hold your hand when you walked along a market, laughing and talking casually. He wanted to press his face against your thighs as you fiddled with his long hair. He wanted to feel your warmth radiate onto his cool body while you read a book with your back pressed up against his chest. 

He wanted to feel your warm skin against his, basking in the sweet sensations of you. He wanted to give you everything; the desire to please you struck deep within his soul. 

Due to the lack of experience in such longing touches, he had struggled quite a bit. He struggled not to let his muscles tense when you lay a hand on his shoulder in comfort. His lungs restricting the air in them at the sensation of your lips peppering faint kisses on his chest. The strange phenomenon, however, was the fact that he loved your touches.

He loved the way the pads of your fingers ran down his spine. He loved the way your heat seeped into his skin. He loved the way your softness caressing his rough skin. Despite all of the times his body had betrayed him, he loved it.

You were reading some of your spells, trying to memorize every detail about them. For a short while, you didn’t even notice the Witcher make his way to bed. However, Geralt never got comfortable and only sat on the edge of the bed with his back turned towards you. 

Your sweet, honey-filled voice interrupted his intruding thoughts. “Why are you so tense, my love?”

He let out a long sigh, eyes flickering towards yours before fluttering down to his lap. You could tell that he wanted to say something, but his mind was betraying him leaving him with a blank stare as he twiddled his thumbs. 

“Lay down.” 

There were a few beats of silence, his back still shining before your eyes. You knew he must’ve had something troubling him even further if his ears ignored your presence. He rarely would ignore you of all people. It was as though he was incapable of it; his mind was constantly filled with thoughts of you. 

“Lay down, Geralt.”

Your tone was much sharper than before, the hints becoming more of a demand than a question. He blinked before doing as he was told and laid on his stomach. His eyes fluttered close when he felt you lay on top of him, your legs meeting the end of his back. 

His mutated heart starts to beat a little faster, your lips gently kissing the nape of his neck. He felt vulnerable as his cheeks scrunched up against the feathered bedding while your lips skated across his skin.

Your finger mindlessly started to trace a large scar, and his body immediately reacted by shivering from your delicate touches. He couldn’t help but let out a whimper as your hands caress his back, rubbing back and forth. 

Your body lifts itself at the sound. Your mouth hung open slightly in surprise. You weren’t expecting such a sound to erupt from him, more or less from the massive stoic Witcher. For a split second, you could have sworn there was a hint of blush that rested on his cheeks, most likely from the embarrassment of the sound he had made.

Nonetheless, you ignored it and continued to poke and prod at his tense muscles. Your hands worked their way from the top of his shoulders—grinding and digging to elevate the stress he was so clearly under. 

A moan escapes his lips, and you giggle, trying to dig even further into his muscles. You could tell that he felt good; his lips curled into a small smile. 

“Your hands are wonders, little dove.”

You laugh slightly, warmth spreading in your chest as a groan slips past his lips. Your hands kneading the sore battle-scarred muscles had felt like heaven. His skin burned with each touch you gave. 

You stop for a second before prompting him to roll over. He looks at you teasingly, watching as you try to lift him. He was like four men in one, so it was hard to get him to budge. Finally, he turns over and shares a couple of giggles with you. 

He lets out a small gasp as you immediately go to kiss down his chest, his hair slightly tickling your lips. On days like these, Geralt would normally wrap his arms around you and pepper kisses along your body. However, he just stared at the thatched ceiling while his breaths became shallow. 

“What’s wrong, my love?”

“I just… I feel as though you deserve more.” Your heart broke a little at the sullen look on his face; the furrowed eyebrows and teary eyes told you everything. All you could do was softly smile and take his large hands into yours. 

“You are stubborn, yes. You lack emotion more than anyone I’ve ever met, you’re thick-headed, and you have the worst of tempers.” You pull his head up to look at you. His eyes slightly widened at the burst of adoration that flowed between your glistening eyes. His stomach churned with pure glee while you squeezed his hands, “But those qualities that you always deem as negative are what I love about you. My love for you isn’t as simple as a want or desire. My love for you is by what you do and how you live. You are my life, my love. You are my stars and my sea.”

He just stared at your face. His eyes flickered between the crease of your brows, the hollows of your cheeks, and the plumpness of your lips. At first, you thought he was going to kiss you passionately, but he just held your face in his hands.

“I’m never letting you go, dove, ever. Anyone will feel my wrath if they disagree otherwise.”

“Hmm, that better be a promise, my love.”

~~

witcher: @lenalxvegood​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @borkingbarnes​ @dreams-of-sunlight-and-starfire 

geralt: @harrysthiccthighss​ @borkingbarnes​ @doozywoozy​

permanent: @captainchrisstan​ @angstysebfan​ @teenagereadersciencenerd​ @rebekahdawkins​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @stardust-galaxies​ @wiccanmetallicrose​ @keithseabrook27​ @hereforthesunrise​

[taeescript]

29 + 1 (Part Two)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (squint harder than before for taehyung x reader) 

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin; a dash of enemies to lovers au 

𝔴𝔠: 7.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: language; a plethora of drunk people, maybe a sext, and a ton of lying (possible implication of impending smut?!) 

𝔞/𝔫: this part came out longer than i thought it would be but *shrugs* feedback and thoughts always welcomed. enjoy (:  𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: DailyHive is real; this is not associated with it 

part one || part three 

The bright pop music that is blaring from the speakers does little to slow your animated talking. Bodies are packed into the small local bar, and students on summer break fill booths and form a snake of impatient, drunk (and horny) people. A slow trickle of the brazen has started to fill the dance floor as the evening morphs into the night.

  You whip your hair into a ponytail and dab at the sweat that is beading your forehead. You definitely should have worn that sleeveless top rather than this thicker t-shirt dress.

  “So, is he like your sugar daddy or something?” Taehyung asks, “Also drink.”

  Friday nights were usually spent at home, snuggled under the blankets in your pjs binging another rewatch of Friends. After work today, you could no longer hold onto your secret and invited Taehyung out for drinks. His girlfriend, Fei, was supposed to join but had been held back for overtime.

  You tip the shot back with no chase.

  “You’re a monster,” he comments as he bites into his lemon piece.

  The two of you had made a bet at the beginning of the evening: you each chose a pop song and each time it played, the nominee had to take a shot. That was your fourth of the night, and to say there was a bit of a buzz is an understatement.

  “It’s all throat technique, Tae,” you say with a bit of a slur, “Hit the back and swallow. No innuendo intended. Also, why the hell haven’t you had any to drink?”

  “You picked ‘Peaches’ for fuck’s sake.”

  “I told you I don’t listen to pop music. It was the first one playing.”

  “And shouldn’t that have told you something? Justin Bieber of all people?”

  “Shut up. It’s your song.” You nod at the pink-faced barista for another round. She slaps your order in front of the two of you without so much a glance.

You don’t even know what song is playing, but you feel quite satisfied watching Taehyung make a face as he downs it in one go.

  He clears his throat after the liquor has burned its way down to his stomach. “Back to my question: is he your sugar daddy?”

  You bark out a laugh. Was he? Perhaps the fact that he paid for fancy meals at lunch? Those have been his one o’clock meetings for the past two months.

  “I don’t know. I’d rather he buy me a car or pay my rent if anything. A casual 1k a week wouldn’t be so bad either. We just sit in his office and eat in secret, Tae. He’s ‘training me in the art of culinary cuisine’. I think it’s just so I don’t embarrass him by stuffing a shrimp cocktail up my nose.”

  “You do know – ”

“Yes, I know. And I would never. It’s a metaphor. It’s just that the position ‘intern’ is quite loosely defined at DailyHive, don’t you think?”

  Taehyung rinses his mouth with water before speaking. “So let me get this right. Mr. Kim calls you into his office, says he’s going to take you as his guest to the biggest tech event of the year, treats you to lunches and doesn’t ask for anything in return? No secret midnight meetups or shady business deals…”

  You shake your head.

  “Damn,” Taehyung says, resting his arm on the bar table, “Forget sugar daddy. He’s just daddy.”

  Sticking your tongue out, you gag visibly at his comment. “Do not ever call him that again, Tae; ev-er.”

  He laughs and watches you pensively. After a moment’s thought, he says, “Nobody has ever called me Tae.”

  “What do they call you then?” you reply, wrinkling your brows together. A cute brunette across the room catches your eyes and for the briefest of seconds, you wonder what a one-night-stand would feel like.

  He shrugs. “Just Taehyung.”

  The brunette waves in your direction. You are about to return his wave when an equally cute brunette runs up to him. He promptly kisses her before swivelling her around to join his group of friends.

  “Sorry. Do you want me to stop? I just assumed since we were out of the office…”

Oh Fate, how cruel you are. Life of twenty cats and solidarity, here you come. Maybe dogs. You feel like you could be more of a dog person.

  “No,” he stops you, “You can call me Tae. Whatever you want.”

  You turn your attention back on the also cute brunette in front of you. In all honestly, despite his youthful god-like countenance, he looks slightly out of place at this college bar with you in his upstanding business attire and dorkishly adorable thick-framed glasses.

  “Sure. How about Tee-Tee? Or Hyungie? The TaeMan?” You wiggle your brows with the suggestion.

  “God help me.”

  The two of you clink your shot glasses together even though neither of your songs are being played.

  His Apple watch lights up to indicate an incoming message. He relays the text to you, “Fei’s done work. She’s on her way now.” You can’t help but notice a shift in his previously excited demeanor.

  You nudge him with your elbow. “Aren’t you excited? She’ll need a glass of wine or two to destress after work. I might be projecting onto you for this part, but you’re buzzed. So after we get her to unwind I’m sure the overwhelming power of pheromones will get you lucky tonight.” You wink at him to emphasize your point.  

“She’s not a big drinker. She’s probably just going to come and ask to leave in five minutes. Bars like this aren’t really her thing either,” he states. He then unbuckles his watch and tucks it away into the pocket of his pants. Undoing the cuffs of his shirt, he rolls up the sleeves and continues to regard you solemnly. “Okay, next round is one me. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to switch songs?”

  You notice how nice, long, and slender his fingers are. Plus the thing of girls liking when men have visible veins on their forearm? That had never really caught your attention until now.

  “She’s a bit of a bitch,” you say and immediately regret, “Shit, sorry. That just slipped out. Alcohol.”

  He offers you his water to drink.

  “I mean, she’s a little…uptight at times? But people can be completely different in and out of work. I can only imagine how stressful it is in her position. Working overtime until 9pm on a Saturday night seriously sucks,” you say to try and mend your wrongdoing.

  “Fei in the office is basically Fei at home,” he says softly, “It’s always work with her.”

  “We support career-driven women, yeah?” A smile is offered from you to him.

  He finally lets out a small one and nods. Out of the blue, he reaches over and covers your hand with his. Staring intently into your eyes, he says, “I know she makes you do her reports and occupies your time to do her coffee runs as well. You can say no to her. She may be my girlfriend, but you’re technically my intern, and I will stand on your side no matter what.”

  “Um, okay. Thanks, Tae,” you say. His sincerity has caught you off guard.

  At that moment, the sound of clicking heels pierce its way into your eardrums through the noise of the even busier bar. Taehyung quickly retracts his hand.

  Fei arrives, not a hair out of place in her tightly pulled bun. Her lips are painted a striking red against the paleness of her skin, and her manicured nails dig into the forearm of Taehyung when she reaches them. Even though she is wearing an otherwise drab office business suit, the curvature of her body draws quite a few glances from the younger men in the crowd.

  “It’s like a zoo here,” she sneers, turning away from a sacrificial lamb who had been bold enough step out of his circle of friends to greet her with a sleezy “hey”.

  “Hi, Fei. Busy night?” you greet her first.

  She gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Yes. I don’t know why you weren’t there. Isn’t it the intern’s job to complete reports?”

  Again, a loosely defined use of “intern” at DailyHive.

  You return her smile with a crisp one of your own.

  She turns away from you and regards Taehyung, who looks as if he had been the sacrificial lamb instead. “Teddybear, let’s go home. You know this type of place isn’t my vibe. I’m getting a headache already.”

  You raise an eyebrow at his pet name.

  He turns a little bit pinker, if that is possible under the current alcohol-induced glow of his cheeks, and says, “Um, sure. Y/N, are you going to be okay getting home?”

  Waving him off, you show him your phone. “30% left. I’ve got pepper spray in my bag and enough booze in me to not run from a fight. I’ll call an Uber home soon, don’t worry.”

  Fei has already begun to fight her way through the squirming, dancing bodies. Taehyung glances quickly at her and turns back to you once last time. “Text me that you’re home safe.”

  “Will do, boss,” you smile at him warmly.

  He lingers for just a moment more before running after his impatiently waiting girlfriend.

  You turn back to the bar and order another beer for yourself. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is perhaps the biggest perk of being single.

...

On the opposite side of town, sinking deeply into a soft lounge chair is Seokjin enjoying a rare evening out with his best friend. He has swapped his usual attire for a more relaxed fit of a white oversized crewneck and techwear bottoms. A heavy, exorbitant fur-lined long leather coat hangs on the coat rack beside the door to their private VVIP room. He swirls his glass of Chateau Lafite before sipping delicately.

  Outside, only a handful of patrons sit quietly engrossed in their own conversations. It is a relatively empty night at the high-end lounge. A lady sings sultrily on stage with the smooth background of a saxophone as accompaniment.

  Junho has poured himself another glass while he is talking to Seokjin. Seokjin had since slightly tuned out his friend’s rather elongated rendition of another celebrity sighting to occupy his mind with another individual.

  “Earth to Jin? When did you get so lightweight since I’ve been gone?” Junho waves a hand in front of Seokjin’s nose.

  Seokjin blinks to refocus.

  “The mansion I bought last year or the one I bought last month?” he reiterates. Sensing that Seokjin truly had no idea what the topic at hand had been, he tries again.

  “Where should I do my birthday party this year, man? I thought the mansion from last year since it’s closer to the city, but I feel like it’s been reused too many times. It’s not completely furnished yet, but the property I got last month is significantly bigger and I can probably host more people.”

  “The new place then,” Seokjin answers half-heartedly.

  Junho grumbles something intelligible.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” Junho sighs, “Tell me what’s new with you. How’s that little project of yours going? I still can’t believe you won’t let me know who you’re planning to take to the Gala.”

  Seokjin had refused to release even the slightest detail about you to Junho. Letting him know that Seokjin had agreed to one of his plans would be enough to inflate Junho’s ego for at least a little while.

  “It’s been going...”

  Junho waits for more of Seokjin’s answer, but his friend’s attention has been turned to a received text.

  10:17pm “Safe and sound, Teddy Bear.”

  10:17pm “Or should I say Taeddybear? 🥴”

10:18pm “That last beer done me rael godo.”

  10:18pm “Real good**”

  Seokjin raises a brow at the unknown number. He responds back.

  10:18pm “Who is this? I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

  Junho crosses his legs and sits back with a sigh. He presses the button to request for an attendant.

  10:19pm “You know who… Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you for saying you’ve got my back. It’s definitely appreciated.”

  The response doesn’t do much except to further pique Seokjin’s curiosity.

  “Sorry,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “Rogue text I think.”

  Junho shrugs. “Is that right? Seems to have caught your attention.” There is now a manner of indifference to his voice.

  “It’s going well, by the way – answering your question. I mean, all things considered. It’s not like I have to teach her how not to stuff a cocktail shrimp up your nose.”

  His friend snorts. “I’d be concerned and against this person if it’s who you’re planning to bring.”

  Seokjin’s phone buzzes again.

  10:21pm “Pray for me when I wake up with the worst hangover of my life. I’m going to bed now.”

  A moment of silence.

  10:21pm “I hope I didn’t piss off Fei tonight for stealing you for the evening.”

  10:22pm “Okay I’ll shut up now. Please don’t tell me you’re reading this. You should be getting some 😼💦.”

  The emoji makes Seokjin choke, liquid sputtering from his lips.

  Junho cusses. He angrily dabs at the speckle of red wine that has landed on his pearly white top.

  10:23pm Download attached image. “Just in case, here’s a little something to get the night started 😉”

  “What the hell man?” Junho gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. Luckily, the previously called attendant had arrived in time to escort him.

Seokjin barely notices that he is alone in room as he taps the download button. It isn’t until he has returned home and is looking at the picture one last time before bed that he realizes who his mysterious texter is.

  The employee nametag clipped to the collar of your workday shirt hanging on the arm of a chair can only be found when zoomed in past your painted toes and naked feet.

... 

You cannot hide your nervousness when you arrive at your “lunch meeting” the following Monday morning. All weekend, you had cursed yourself for not better checking who the recipient of your texts were before pressing send. Never had you thought that in your drunken stupor you would mix up “The Devil” in your contact list with “Taehyung Kim.” Curse you and your lack of friends beginning with the letter “T”.

  You balk before, a hand poised in perfect position for a knock. Maybe he didn’t download it? And even if he did, it was just a troll feet pic. You had made sure that it was as pg-13 as possible before you had sent it.

  “Hi,” you greet sheepishly when he has given you the go to enter.

  In a smart plain blue button-up and round frames that are almost certainly for the aesthetics, the CEO of the company and your boss sizes you up and down.

  “I know we’ve gotten to know each other better these past few weeks. But you’d think it’s still common courtesy to at least make eye contact,” he says. You look at him wide eyed without a word.

  He rolls his eyes but does not gesture to your usual seat. In fact, you don’t spy a take-out container in sight. He instead stands up and picks up his phone, walking to the door. He notices you have yet to move.

  “Let’s get moving. You’ve only got a 45 minute lunch.”

  You scramble to match his speed and catch Taehyung’s eye as you grab your jacket at your desk. Taehyung’s gaze follows you as you hurry to leave in pursuit of Seokjin’s coattail.

... 

The restaurant is a popular vegan establishment with a plethora of greenery crawling up its high ceilings and a window-framed overview of the city’s skyline. Waiters and waitresses who may just as well be walking New York Fashion Week serve you brunch mimosas on a golden plate; they attentively wait to the side in case you ever run out of water.

  Common topics are rare between the two of you. Initially, you respectfully kept quiet and only answered questions when asked, but you have never been one for awkward silence. Yes, it’s awkward only if you make it awkward; there is just no denying the hanging suspense that curls your toes each time. Recently, you have started with simple inquiries regarding the company, who they might meet at the Gala and everyday mundane topics.

  “You’re probably wondering why we’re out of the office,” Seokjin says. He continues shortly after taking a bite of his meal and ignores the look of your surprise at his initiation of a conversation. “My office has been getting stuffy with the warmer weather so I thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air. How’s the food?”

You nod, making small sounds of contentment as you chew on the Avocado Lime Tartare. Mmm… tart-y.

  He takes a deep breath in, stalling the incoming conversation. “It’s my friend’s birthday this next weekend.”

  “Oh,” you say, “Happy early birthday to him.”

  “He’s my best friend.”

  “Well… An extra happy early birthday to him.”

  A sigh. “Are you free next weekend?”

  Your chewing comes to a halt and you blink once at his question. Next weekend is the weekend before the Silver Gala. It is also the sole weekend before your birthday the following Friday after the Gala. You had hoped to spend it with Taehyung and maybe even Jimin who had promised to be in town on a long overdue vacation despite your chastising to visit your parents first.

  He senses your trepidation. Quickly, he explains himself, 

“He’s having a birthday party Saturday night. He has a place about an hour north of here. I can have somebody pick you up if that’s more convenient. I don’t have a birthday present for him and thought it’d be nice for you to meet him.”

  “You’re giving him me for a present?” you ask, incredulously.

  He bites his tongue. He never anticipated how awkward this conversation could go.

  “You’re going as my plus one. He really wants to meet you; in fact, he insisted that you be there. He’ll be at the gala too. I have something else planned for his birthday present,” he adds hastily, “Besides, you’re less than qualified as a present.”

  Musing silently to yourself, you wonder if in any situation should a human be qualified as a present. Despite that, you hate yourself as you agree on the spot.

  The rest of the lunch passes by quickly in dull silence. As Seokjin pays for the meal on the company card (and hands you the receipt for reimbursement), you note that there has been no comment made on any strange photos texted to him over the weekend.

  Perhaps being nonchalantly implied as a human birthday gift to a stranger is your karma for sending weird texts to your boss.

  Seokjin stays inside the car as he drops you off at the office after lunch, already preparing for his next business meeting. You nod your goodbye and step onto the pavement through the courteously held open door of the limousine.

“Y/N, try a soft pink. Fuchsia is not your colour,” he tells you as the door is closed.  

He then leaves you standing in front of the large office doors, staring at your chipped, week-old purple toenails.

... 

“I’m not exactly expecting a package in the mail or a dress laid out on the hotel bed – ”

“You guys are staying at a hotel?” Taehyung says over the phone.

  You are standing in your bedroom, an hour before when Seokjin is supposed to pick you up as an offering to his best friend. There are two dresses laid out on your Hello Kitty bed covers: a simple black dress you had worn once when you were a little bit more in shape and your prom dress.

  “No, I’m at home. But I mean, let me play into this movie metaphor.”

  “You suck at metaphors.”

  You have your phone propped up on some pillows so that you can see Taehyung as you debate your fashion decision. He is in a relaxed white tee, hair messily framing his face after a shower and a bowl of popcorn in his hands. You watch as a droplet of water runs down his face from his still-wet hair. He nonchalantly licks it off from the side of his mouth.

  “As I was saying, it wouldn’t hurt to get me something. He made it seem like it was a big deal. Like doesn’t the male lead usually surprise the female lead with a big bouquet of flowers and this over-the-top expensive dress which she wears and makes the male lead fall head over heels in love with her?”

  He chews silently on a kernel then probes, “You want Mr. Kim to fall in love with you?”

  “No,” you hastily correct, “It’s a metaphor. I think you’re the one who sucks at metaphors.”

  There is a beep on your phone to indicate you have another incoming call.

  “Tae, I’m going to have to call you back. My brother’s calling me,” you tell him. The black dress; your old prom dress is way too early 2000s. Black never hurts.

  “Okay. Have fun tonight. Pretend that it’s your birthday party. And then I’ll meet you for brunch tomorrow, my treat? You can tell me all about it,” he says. “Also the black. You look cute in that one.”

  “My party if I was 30, rich and successful. Oh wait, I’ll have one thing in common soon; that’s a start. Thanks though. I’ll call you tomorrow morning once I get up,” you say, then switch the call over to your brother. You had missed the flush of his cheeks as you busily swipe your phone.

Sticking the prom dress back into your closet, you rummage around the meager display of shoeboxes for a pair of high heels.

  “Hey, Jimin,” you greet over the phone.

  “Jesus, I do not need to be accosted by my half-naked sister,” he yells over the phone.

  You turn rapidly, seeing that you had accidentally continued a video call from when you had hung up on Taehyung. You throw a pillow over the camera in your haste to cover yourself up.

  “I was going to ask why you’re dressed like that but on second thought, I think I’ll leave your sexual exploits as your own secret.”

  Despite how disturbed you feel about this comment, his cheerful voice makes you smile.

  “So little sis, the weekend before the big three-oh!”

  “Please stop reminding me.”

  “Where do you want to meet tonight? I just got off the plane, but I can be ready to meet in about an hour. I booked a hotel close to the airport.”

  Shit. You forgot to tell Jimin. These heels will have to do.

  “Um… I, uh…”

  “What?”

  You clear your throat and begin to undress in front of the mirror. You have a sudden conscious thought that the dusty treadmill in your living room seems to be staring daggers at your back. 

  “I’ve got plans tonight.”

  “Plans? I wasn’t even aware you had friends here.”

  “Ouch, Jimin. But yes, I have friends. In fact, I am meeting a friend for brunch tomorrow if you want to join. I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

  “He?” Jimin repeats, “Should I put on my big brother boxing gloves? Give him a good talking to in case he’s interested in my baby sister?” Pause. “Was that who you were calling before?”  

You bite your answer back, not feeling the need to go down that rabbit hole.

  “He’s just a friend; A co-worker really,” you say, “He’s also unavailable. And before you suggest anything, his goalkeeper is technically one of my bosses so I do not want to try and shoot past her thank you very much.”

  Jimin laughs. “I wasn’t going to suggest anything. Well if you’re busy tonight, tomorrow morning works for me. Give me a call. I’ll spend the night in watching some good ol’ Netflix and enjoy this vacation time.”

  “Sorry again,” you apologize.

  “Go out and have fun,” he says, “You deserve it.”

  The two of you finish off the call with the usual goodbyes. You have forty-five minutes to dress the part of a sparkly birthday surprise for the co-founder of the company you work for. Throwing on your favourite throwback music, you get to work.

  Once satisfied, you snap a picture and sending it to Taehyung making special care that you have picked the right individual this time.

... 

The mansion is bigger than you could have ever imagined, and the amount of people present are…

  “You’re telling me I can do whatever I want tonight,” you ask Seokjin in the car.

  There is no denying that Seokjin knows how to dress for an event. In a velvety black and white suit, contrasted by his blonde hair which he has elected to temporarily dye for the evening, he looks very much the posh CEO magazines brand him out to be. You are glad you elected for the simple black dress as standing beside this Renaissance statue in a floral pastel yellow dress would be like planting dandelions in Kanye’s sculpture garden (if he ever wanted one).

  “The majority of people won’t recognize you after tonight. They’ll also be too drunk to even register anything you tell them,” Seokjin says.

  He cannot believe that you chose a simple black dress. Did you really not own anything remotely feminine besides the most generic clubbing outfit? Even if you had wanted to make an appearance as a hooker, at least make it an expensive-looking one. Maybe he should have bought you that Versace dress he spotted in the window the other day. Instead…

  “Take this. Your earrings are too gaudy for this event.”

  You touch the sparkly black cats you have put into your ears. Their eyes are made of crystal, and you thought it looked quite fetching in the light. Opening up the box, you see a dainty elegant pair of teardrop earrings that may or may not be of real diamonds.

  “Only Junho will know who you really are and then you can enjoy the rest of your night. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being held here against your will.”

  Putting them on, you note that even this simple change in attire has elevated the entirety of your presence. You felt as luxurious as this gift.

  “Thanks, Seokjin,” you try the first name basis he had insisted upon for this evening, “Not going to lie, I had imagined that maybe you’d send me a dress in the mail or something, but this is still very nice.”

  He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Like in the movies? Please, I run a start-up company. I’m not a millionaire and I don’t think you would appreciate my handouts.”

  You don’t respond, making your second note of the night on the Prada label on the cuff of his suit. “To clarify, I don’t introduce myself as your plus-one tonight.”

  “No. I don’t want you associated with me,” he curtly states. He watches as your smirk twitches and he hits himself mentally in the head again. “It’s to protect you. There are bound to be tons of paparazzi tonight at a party as big as this. I don’t want you to find yourself in the tabloids tomorrow morning. Just be smart.”

  The car pulls to a stop after inching its way up to the front door. People mill about outside in extravagant brands, holding glasses of champagne. The man of the hour is somewhere inside the building, charming his way into new business deals as well as making new friends.

  “Stay close to me. You can leave after we meet Junho. It is his birthday after all,” Seokjin offers a hand as you step out of the car.

  You take it, looping yourself into him so that your hand rests on his forearm. You are only 13 days younger than Junho, and yet this striking contrast in lifestyle hits you like a landslide while the two of you walk up the stairs and into the mansion.

  Inside, it is dim with disco lights flashing to the beat of amped party music. Upon entrance, the two of you are offered glasses of liquor (you take a swirling iridescent drink) to which you are then ushered to where the birthday boy lounges.

  Junho has an even more youthful face than Seokjin does. Where Seokjin’s features exude class and charm, Junho appears mischievous and looks to have stepped out of every girl’s bad boy dream.

  You stop Seokjin with a tug and make him look at you. “Tell me: do I look like a passable birthday offering?”

  Seokjin rolls his eyes and pulls you along with him.

  “Jin!” Junho hollers loudly across the room when spotting his oldest friend. There is a doll-like female magnetized to his side. “This is Clara, my date for the evening.”

  Seokjin shakes her hand and greets them. The female cannot seem to pry her eyes away from this handsome new stranger. He introduces himself chivalrously to her as Junho sides up to you and grips your hands in his. His breath smells strongly of mixed drinks, and you know that in about fifteen minutes the entire night will be a blur for him.

  “You must be Y/N!” he says excitedly, “Jin didn’t tell me that you were coming! What a surprise!”

  “I am,” you greet back with a large smile. “Although I’m also surprised. Seokjin told me that you had insisted I came.”

  Seokjin grits his teeth, annoyed at Junho. Would he ever learn when to keep his big mouth closed?

Laughing loudly, Junho grabs two drinks just as a waiter passes by and hands them to you. “Insist might be a strong word,” he says, drilling another hole unknowingly, “I honestly thought I’d have to play part-time wingman tonight. But I’m glad he’s got someone by his side.” He jabs you a little too hard in the ribs. “Next week’s gala is going to be fun! Okay, now there’s only one rule tonight: there are no rules!”

  The four of you clink your glasses together, while you do your best to hide an embarrassed smile on behalf of the birthday boy.

  “You bet I’m going around as your trophy wife tonight,” you whisper in Seokjin’s ear when Junho looks away.

  He whirls around to look at you, the tip of both your noses impossibly close together. He can taste the acidity of the wine when you breath out with a wicked smile. He barely has time to stop you as you peel yourself away to mingle with the crowds.

  Seokjin is about to follow you but Junho pulls him away, flamboyantly introducing his handsome best friend to a group of international models. He turns on his brightest smile, but his heart thunders in his chest at you calling yourself his wife.

... 

You twirl around in your dress, nobody noticing the small splash of champagne on the front of it in the quickly changing lights.

  “He bought this for me last week. Says it reminds him of the first night we met. Our eyes met across the waters in Tuscany where he was on a business trip. I’ll let you on a little secret, but I was his mistress for a little while.”

  Seokjin cannot make out the words you are saying to a small but growing group of people around you. He stands across from Junho, but looks over the latter’s shoulders to watch as you do another spin.

  “A little while, Charlotte? Are you still his mistress?” an older lady with an exuberant amount of jewels hanging off her body whispers with a keen interest in your expertly spun story.

  Charlotte Dior Laurent, an identity you are pretty sure is an amalgamation of French brands from the top of your mind. You continue to personify this character however.

“Don’t worry. He’s left her since. I know I know, my friends all say the same. ‘He’s already been divorced three times. How can you be sure he won’t leave you?’”

  At this point, you are in way over your head at having told this story to at least two other groups and a multitude of other renditions to whomever you have met tonight. But there is something powerful about liquid courage as it courses through your body.

  The lady lays a hand on your arm. “I don’t want your heart to break. You are still young.”

  Looking up between the heads of your audience, you catch Seokjin’s eyes. They are fiery and it sends a strange sensation up your toes to your abdomen. You give a titillating wave at him in which he does not return.

“He says I’m special and different. How can you say no to that?” you exclaim with exasperation, fully committing to the poor damsel just oh-so in love.

  There is a look of genuine concern on the lady’s face at your statement.

  Before you can dig yourself a deeper hole, you place your empty glass on the table and excuse yourself. You do not know if it’s the drinking on a relatively empty stomach or if the room is really much warmer due to the multitude of bodies, but you head out to the balcony.

  On your way out, you notice that the clock reads twenty minutes past midnight. This gives you a shock at how fast time has passed. Perhaps you should go find Seokjin if you are to get a decent amount of sleep before meeting with Taehyung and Jimin tomorrow. Speaking of Taehyung…

  You pull out your phone and see that there are two unread messages. The first is from Jimin, confirming that he is indeed invited to brunch tomorrow morning. The second is a response from Taehyung.

  11:09pm “Wow. You have me a little lost for words. I had imagined you’d look nice in the dress but… You really are beautiful.”

  Smiling, you type in your response.

  12:21am “Thanks, Tae. You’re up late.” You take a picture of the earrings Seokjin had gifted you and attach it to the message. “What do you think of these?”

Barely have you returned your phone into your bag when it buzzes again. This time you receive an attached image. Taehyung seems to be sitting in front of a monitor, as his face glows with a blue light and contorted into a pensive furrow of his brows.

  12:21am “A little different from your usual style. Are they new? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear those.”

  12:21am “Fei’s out with some friends tonight. She likes when I wait for her to come back before I sleep. To make sure she’s safe, I guess.”

  12:22am “Pooey. I should’ve brought you as my plus-one 😩. Also, Seokjin bought them for me for tonight. He says my other earrings are too gaudy.”

  12:24am “First name basis 🙃”

  12:25am “How is your night going? Having fun?”

  You are about give Taehyung a call for a detailed recounting of tonight’s escapades when someone speaks out from within the shadows.

  “A penny for your thoughts?” He walks into the moonlight. You flush, meeting the eyes of this particularly dashing gentleman, the phonecall immediately forgotten.

  Oh, Alcohol, you make even the smartest of people do dumb shit. And right now, your effects are even worse on this idiot.

  Your mouth hangs slightly open as you watch him puff out smoke from his cigar and offer it to you. He brushes up beside you, his fingers trailing up your hand which grips the balcony. You cannot seem to break away from his gaze.

  “Lung cancer has an increasing incidence rate particularly for females due to smoking. Are you sure you want to be condoning this type of behaviour?” Seokjin interjects himself between you and your Tuxedo Mask, pushing the outstretched cigar back towards its owner.

  There is a small stare down amongst the two men before the latter quietly exits the stage. Your eyes continue to linger on him even as he walks towards another female alone in the night enjoying the outdoor breeze.

  “You’ve just ruined by chance. I could have seduced then blackmailed him with the story of his illegitimate child to play Black Widow,” you whine.

  Seokjin takes the glass that had somehow magically appeared in your hand during the short walk from inside to outside on the balcony.

  “How many have you had since we came?” he asks.

  You sigh wistfully, still in your dangerous daydream. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.” You turn your attention back to him eventually. “What are you doing here? Did you see me with him and get all jealous, hubby?” you tease.

  He scoffs, drinking from your glass and pulling a face. Once again, there is that twist and jump within his chest, but he attributes it to whatever nasty concoction he had just ingested. He pours its contents over the railing and into whatever shrubbery lies below. “You seriously went with being my trophy wife?”

  You shrug. “Of sorts. You’d better be right about people being too drunk slash not caring about me enough after tonight to remember the things I’ve said. ‘Cuz you’ve been divorced three times, had me along with another as your mistress, I think you’ve sired a few illegitimate children and all in all, a Games of Throne life. Damn, maybe I made you a little too badass.”

  “You’re having water for the rest of the night,” he says.

  You glare at him, contemplating on making a remark about his equally flushed face but decide against it. Instead, you lean onto the balcony and give a cat stretch. A large sigh escapes from you.

  Wordlessly, he shakes off his jacket and places it around your shoulder all the while averting his gaze on the unblemished skin of your upper thighs that had been exposed from your previous movement.

  Your blood feels like liquid fire coursing through your veins. Feeling overheated even in the evening breeze, you give him back his jacket. You note his reluctance to meet you even as you throw what could be a thousand dollar jacket in the air to him. “So what’s it like to live like this every day?” you say in wonder. You feel said breeze return and lean over the balcony to catch its chill.

  “Like what?” he asks. The warm summer night’s breeze blows through, settling his hair in a childish tousle.

  “Like rich,” you say. You sigh again. “Believe it or not, I’m the same age as your birthday boy best friend.

  And everything feels absolutely unreal right now. If I hadn’t agreed to come here tonight with you, I’d probably be at another dingy bar knocking back shots with my brother and friend.”

  “Are you a secret alcoholic?”

  You glare at him. “No,” you state matter-of-factly. “As I was trying to share, this type of lifestyle is something I could ever only imagine. I’m not ungrateful about spending time with them, but at the end of the night I’d go home, sweaty, drunk and gross, and then simply pass out. My bank account might be a couple hundred bucks lighter. Come Monday I’ll be working my ass off just to earn back what I had spent. Then cue the repeating cycle.”

  Resting your chin on your palm, your other hand sweeps your hair back behind your ear.

  “It’s amazing the difference a few life choices can have.”

  Seokjin remains silent beside you. Truthfully, he is at a loss of words. The moonlight plays across your face and caresses your nose down to your lips. You are arching your back once again to pull away the soreness that comes with wearing high heel the entire night. It is just a simple black dress but on you it made you look –

  “Well, you’re Mrs. Kim tonight,” he starts.

  “Charlotte Dior Laurent,” you correct him.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Okay… Ms. Charlotte Dior Laurent. Tonight you get to live like the rich, as you’ve put it. As a rich person, what would you like to do?”

  You ponder his question a few moments for the answer. “Hmm…I think I’d like to play golf. It’s a rich person’s sport. I want to play it on a private golf course, wearing cute golfing outfits and talk about million-dollar deals with a client without a care in the world. I want to order sangria by the gallon.”

  He laughs out loud. It takes a while for him to be able to speak again, but when he does you feel as if the night has been illuminated a few degrees brighter. “I personally don’t have a private golf course, but Junho does here in his backyard if you’re up for it. I can’t promise cute golfing outfits so you’ll have to do with your wine stained dress. And if you’re really up for it I can pretend to make business deals with you, that’s my job anyways.”

  You grin, taking the hand he has offered you. “Call.” The two of you shake upon his suggestion.

As he is leads you by the hand towards the dim gates of said golf course, you tug at him gently. “There’s something missing…” you say.

  He shakes his head and pulls you back in towards the party room. 

“I’ll see what they have at the bar.”

... 

As the hands of the clock continue to spin past another hour, the summer night takes a chilly turn. Seokjin has lent you his jacket but even that cannot stop your fingers from becoming numb. Your hands shake even as they tightly hold the golf club. Seokjin watches you in silence as you prepare to hit the golf ball, a beer in one hand and a few opened bottles littered on the grass beside him. The club hits the ball with a resounding “cling” but does little in propelling it a few centimeters.

  “This one doesn’t count,” you announce, “It’s too dark to see anything here.”

  Seokjin takes a swig as you readjust your position. You sway in the wind and the last tendrils of your hair come undone in its half up half down hairdo. Your hair now whips wildly around your face when another gust blows through.

  “Shit!” you exclaim, missing the ball again. “Why is golfing so hard?!”

  You throw your club down and trudge to Seokjin. The six pack the two of you had been sharing has officially been depleted. Seokjin offers you his half empty bottle. This time, you are the one watching as he goes to your spot and effortlessly swings his target into the darkness.

  He smirks from the spot.

  You grumble. “You’ve had years of practice. Not fair.”

  “You’ve got to do better than that, Mrs. Johnson,” he says, teasing you.

  Your grumble becomes more audible. You place the now empty bottle on the ground and cross your arms against your chest. Since telling him of your other American alias from tonight, he has not ceased to remind you of your strange choice of name.

  “Just so you know, Mrs. Johnson can afford both an affair and the consequential prenup,” you huff.

  “It’s still a stupid last name.”

  “It’s an American multinational corporation with an income in the billions, okay?”

  “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night. Now come on, I’ve got one last ball. Take a swing.”

  Groaning, you shuffle over. You wish you had not suggested golf. You had never been good at sports anyways – bad hand-eye coordination.

  He stands beside you this time, scrutinizing your every movement with hawk-like eyes. “No, not like that,” he says, “Have a wider stance and bend your knees. Better centre of gravity gives you a better swing. Also hold it with a neutral grip.”

  You readjust your positioning following his instructions.

  “Index finger down the center. Good. And three knuckles on each hand. No, that’s two. Okay your hands are just weird now. Three. I said three.”

  “Stop standing there and show me then, Mr. Know-It-All,” you say, your patience in this makeshift lesson also coming to an end.

  He walks closer to you, reaching out for the golf club. He retracts his hands in seeing that you have yet to let go. “You got to – ”

“You can touch me. I did tell you that Mrs. Johnson can afford an affair and prenup. Besides, I’m not going to be able to learn anything if I can’t even see you in this dark.”

  He comes behind you and puts a foot between yours to guide your stance. Wrapping his arms around you, he fixes the placement of your hands to grip the shaft of the club in the way he had previously instructed.

  Perhaps it is the mixture of wine, champagne and beer offered tonight, but being enveloped in the warmth of this embrace intoxicates you. The tingles that are sent down from his soft breathing on the base of your neck, make you shake like a leaf in the wind.

He inhales the sweet undertones of your perfume. The tendrils of your hair brush against his collarbone, sending a sensual kiss onto his skin. Unconsciously, he draws you closer to him, shielding you from another gust.

“Now you just want to swing,” he says, the words a mixture of a whisper and guttural grunt. His chest rumbles with it, passing the vibration through to your back.

  You remain as still as a statue and lean ever so slightly back into him until your entire backside is pressed upon him.

  You can’t stop yourself as you ask him, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

...

[edens-breathless-melodies-moved]

words: 3.4k

pairing: kageyama t. x f!chubby!reader

prompt: sweat kink

warnings: cursing, oral (female receiving), fucking in a personal gym, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), sweat licking (he’s a freak lmao)

summary: kageyama knew you looked good while working out. the way your soft arms would suddenly flex and he’d see the muscles you were so good at hiding.

he knew he liked to watch you work out, but he never would have known that the sight of you covered in sweat would stir something so primal in him.

a/n: kageyama likes his women chunky you can’t change my mind. just to clarify, reader is an american who came to japan because iwa convinced her she’d go to the olympics if she followed him. she met iwa in her first year of college and quickly became friends. reader is insinuated to be a rather plush woman, but she’s ✨ s t w o n g ✨

“group bonding exercise?”

you repeated dubiously, blinking owlishly at the blonde in front of you as he just sits there and smiles, nodding his head.

you look to the other men in the olympic gymnasium for help, but they either shrug their shoulders in equal confusion or nodded their heads with atsumu.

when you had walked through the gym doors this morning with iwaizumi, ready to start the days training, you didn’t expect to have atsumu come up to you and propose a “bonding experience”, in his words.

hinata came bounding up to you with that ridiculous speed of his, orange hair bouncing in his excitement. he was practically vibrating with energy, hazel eyes glowing under the fluorescent lighting.

“yeah! we overheard you saying how you wanted to get back in shape and slim down a little, so what better group to help you out than us?”

all the men in the gym froze at his oblivious words, shocked that he really just said that to your face. kageyama froze in the middle of his lunges and choked, eyes wide.

‘this idiot really has no class…’ they all thought simultaneously as they watched the scene unfold with bated breath, waiting for the inevitable moment you ripped his head off and stomped on his body.

if there was one thing they all knew, they knew it was to never mention a woman’s weight. especially to you. you weren’t exactly the thinnest around, but that didn’t make you any less attractive.

in all honesty, you were hot, in all your foreign, sexy glory.

to everyone’s obvious surprise however, instead of killing the ginger, you laughed instead and patted him on his floof, thanking him for reminding you.

the team sweat dropped as hinata bounced around, clearly enjoying the head pat as he started spouting off different types of exercises they wanted you to do, bokuto and atsumu quickly joining in.

they all surely expected you to spike his head off or something, but they were pleasantly surprised and grateful you didn’t. they couldn’t afford to replace him so close to the games.

you see, you were no stranger to physical violence or getting physical in general. you had been recruited to manage the japanese men’s olympic volleyball team by none other than iwaizumi hajime, himself.

it was funny how things worked out because you two had already known each other before the offer was even offered.

you had met previously during college where you both graduated with the same degree. having spent the last four years taking the same classes and becoming best friends, it wasn’t a surprise when iwa asked you to come back with him to japan.

though you were pretty adamant in staying in america, despite knowing japanese, you somehow were convinced by him. before you knew it, you were saying goodbye to your hometown of los angeles and saying hello to tokyo.

because of your past with iwaizumi coupled with the fact that you both had the same degree and title, you two were known as the demon trainers from hell.

where iwa was all obvious brute strength and harsh glares, you were much more reserved but still equally as terrifying with your sickly sweet smiles and icy words if the boys were getting out of line.

but just because you preferred to make them cry with your words instead of your fists, that didn’t mean it wasn’t common to see you either hitting one of them upside the head or spiking a ball at them with deadly accuracy.

when the team first met you, however, they could hardly believe that you were a certified athletic trainer, let alone their manager on top of that. it wasn’t anything against you, you just… didn’t look the part.

standing at a whopping 5’4”, all the men on the team easily dwarfed you in height, and your body wasn’t all hard planes and corded muscles. you were soft and squishy looking, running a little heavy for your height.

you just looked so adorable and soft. your cheeks had this permanent blush across them from your constant sunburn (blame the california sun), and they always puffed out when you pouted.

but that was their first mistake; underestimating you. even kageyama, your boyfriend, had underestimated you, though he denies it now.

it was actually how you two had met, though it was under less than ideal circumstances.

he was bold enough to question whether you were even meant to be on their team your first day meeting them, unintentionally offending you and all your hard work to get where you were.

“it’s nothing against you personally, but you just don’t look like you’re meant for the job.”

kageyama had said without looking at you, and everyone, including the coaches, were stunned by his blunt and brash words. even ushijima was rendered speechless.

kageyama looked around confusedly at everyone’s silence and wide eyes. what? did he say something wrong? he didn’t mean to offend you, he was just telling the truth how he saw it.

it was only when iwaizumi snickered and everyone broke out of their shocked reverie that all eyes shifted from kageyama to you.

chills ran down their spines at the eerily calm smile you gave kageyama, eyes closed tightly as you took a deep breath in. “you really fucked up now, kageyama.” iwaizumi chuckled.

everyone’s hearts stopped when you opened your eyes, and even kageyama shivered when your gaze met his. the way the fire in your eyes seemed to run so hot it could freeze over hell, looked eerily similar to the look hinata gives on the court.

“so i “don’t look the part”, hmm?” you muse, smile growing even wider as you watched the setter fumble over his words, trying to save face.

you let out an over dramatic sigh as you tossed your head back, clicking your tongue once as iwaizumi let out another laugh before walking over to stand by your side. apparently this happened often.

kageyama stopped fumbling over his words as he watched his old senpai cross his arms over his chest. you chuckled as you shucked off your trainer jacket, revealing your plain black t-shirt underneath.

the team never took their eyes off of you as you raised your arms above your head and stretched. gasps rang out across the gym as they saw your flex and the muscles that bulged from underneath your fluffy flesh.

“y’know, kageyama-san,” you drawled, lowering your arms as you began methodically stretching your thick legs, sharp eyes never leaving his. “you’re not the first person to say that to me.”

“she’s right,” iwaizumi mused with a smirk. “i’m pretty sure i was, and i still regret it to this day.”

kageyama gulped nervously and the team could only watch in awe as you finished your stretching before bending over slightly to your left.

you lined up your shoulders with iwaizumi’s hips as you placed a firm grip on his knee and around his shoulders.

with wide eyes and jaws dropped to the floor, the entire team and even the coaches watched you lift iwaizumi with ease and settle him into a comfortable fireman’s carry.

atsumu, bokuto, and hinata audibly screeched and even the usually stoic sakusa and ushijima choked on their spit in shock.

without breaking a sweat, in a sheer display of strength and power, you casually walked towards kageyama, and iwaizumi couldn’t repress his snickers because kageyama looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

how are you so strong?!

your smirk never left your lips as you stopped only a couple of feet away from the shocked olympian, and raised an eyebrow at him mockingly. “what’s wrong, kageyama-san? cat got your tongue?”

you grin grows maliciously as he struggles to answer you, obviously flustered. “do i still look too “soft” or “weak” to be able to handle you guys?”

when kageyama still didn’t answer you, still too flustered and shocked by your impressive display of strength, (cause iwaizumi is not light, that man is straight muscle), you sighed before giving the gym a quick scan before settling on one of the team's liberos.

“yaku-san.” yaku jumped at your polite tone when you called his name, but he quickly recovered with a sincere smile. “yes, (l/n)-san?”

you shot him a sweet smile of your own, and chose to ignore the blush across his cheeks to avoid embarrassing him. “can you give me a number between one and twenty?”

yaku stared at you confusedly along with the rest of the team and iwaizumi fully burst out laughing, shaking on your shoulders. you fought back your own grin as you threatened to drop him.

“um, ten?”

you grinned as you widened your stance, feet placed shoulder length apart as you took in a deep breath, preparing your muscles.

“good, i wanted a decent workout today, anyways.”

and when you began to squat your best friend with perfect posture and ease, kageyama didn’t even register the howling screeches of his teammates as they lost their minds over this mini she-hulk they just got as a manager.

instead, kageyama could only focus on the blood rushing through his ears and to his cheeks as he watched you squat his senpai with a smile on your beautiful face, a singular bead of sweat rolling down your temple.

oh, he was in deep now.

—————————

kageyama knew he should be ashamed of the way he was staring at you, but he couldn’t find it within himself to tear his eyes away.

with a harsh gulp and wide eyes, he watched you as you continued on with your leg presses, eyes closed as you took in even breaths.

you didn’t even seem bothered by the amount of weight you were pushing, but then again, 300 lbs was something normal to you.

finishing your reps, pushed your legs out fully before locking the press, taking a deep swig of your water as you lifted yourself up from your reclined sitting position.

blue eyes followed the trail of your sweat as it glided down the side of your neck before being absorbed into the fabric of your sports bra strap, and he gulped again, pants suddenly feeling tight.

that feeling only intensified when you lifted the edge of your shirt to wipe at your soaked brow, exposing your pudgy and soft tummy. you’ve never looked more delicious to kageyama than now.

when your boyfriend of six months and olympian in training had invited you to his home to work out in his personal gym after you finished atsumu’s little “team bonding experience” you didn’t expect him to just stare at you as you went about your reps and sets.

you chose to ignore the hungry way he gazed at your plush body as you moved over to where the squat stand was, bar already loaded with your preferred weight.

not minding the intense stare from across the room, you bit back a smile when you heard the light gasp come from your boyfriend as you ducked under the bar and settled it comfortably on your shoulders.

you stood up straight and relished in the familiar weight against your flesh. stepping back with a deep breath, making sure your posture was correct, you squatted your first rep.

as you came back up, you weren’t surprised when you noticed your boyfriend had disappeared from his seat by the shoulder press.

what did surprise you was the sudden warm presence behind you, and you bit back a startled gasp when you felt his large hands come to gently rest on your waist.

“as a professional trainer, you should know it’s dangerous to squat without a spotter.” kageyama’s deep voice muttered out. he resisted the urge to dig his fingers into your soft skin as you chuckled.

“you’re right, but i think i can handle myself.” you musea. you held back a gasp when he leaned forward to nudge his nose against your jaw, breath cool against your sweaty skin.

kageyama inhaled the musky yet sweet scent of your sweat against your skin and had to bite his lip to repress his groan. why was he getting so worked up over this?

“squatting 320 isn’t something you just cover on your own.” he growled into your ear, and you finally realized how worked up your boyfriend was from watching you work out.

not that you can blame him, however. watching him do his arm reps and the way his back muscles rippled under his plain white tee whenever he lifted himself for pull ups had your yoga pants feeling a little damp.

sensing things were about to get hot and heavy, you stepped towards the squat stand to put up your bar, kageyama’s hands never leaving your waist.

just as the weight left your shoulders and was properly put away, you let out a gasp when you felt his cool tongue slide sensually up your neck, and you blushed at the deep groan that left his lips.

your own moans soon filled the air as kageyama ground his hard cock against your ass through his joggers, groping your soft sides fully with his hands.

you rested your head against his chest as you let him massage your body roughly with his dexterous digits, mewling and panting at the way he teased and pinched your nipples through the fabric of your sports bra.

“you have no idea what you do to me,” he rasped in your ear, maneuvering your bodies to lay on the padded gym floor. you let him spread your thighs as you propped your body up on one elbow.

you panted lightly as kageyama looked down on you from above, kneeling between your legs while gazing over your glistening form.

your baby hairs stuck to your sweaty forehead as your skin seemed to glisten under the fluorescent lights above.

blue eyes zeroed in on a stray drop of sweat that glided from your neck and began its descent down the valley of your breasts.

something in him snapped and he lunged forward, causing you to yelp in surprise before moaning as he tongue followed the sweat drops path, groaning against your heated skin at the salty taste.

he needed more.

“the way you look when you’re working out, the way your sweat makes your skin glow,” a whine escaped your lips as he nipped gently at your collar bone.

he lifted his head to meet your eyes and you gasped at the feral look in his blue orbs, pupils blown wide with lust.

“you make me so hungry, (y/n).” before you had a chance to respond to him, the sudden sound of fabric tearing and your inner thighs exposed to cool air made you balk, and you stared at your boyfriend in shock.

“you did not just rip open my yoga pants!” kageyama gave you a blank look before shrugging, leaning his face down to your exposed core, pleased to find that you were already dripping onto the floor.

“i’ll buy you another pair.” a breathy moan replaced your curse for his causal destruction of your clothing as he licked a fat stripe up your cunt, fingers digging harshly into the plumpness of your thighs as he drank in your flavor.

moans spilled from your parted lips uncontrollably as kageyama ate you out, tongue flicking and suckling against your clit as one of his hands released your thigh in favor of sinking two fingers into your hot core.

“fuck!” you choke out in a whisper as you wind your fingers through his silky locks, gripping them tightly as you roll your hips into his face.

kageyama took your grinding on his face in stride, speeding up the movements of his fingers as he searched your walls for that one spot that made you see stars.

“a-ah!” you cried out, thighs clenching around his head as he smirked into your flesh. found it. tears began pricking your eyes as your body was assaulted with pleasure, kageyama’s fingers slamming right into your g-spot.

kageyama knew you were getting close when he felt your walls flutter around his fingers and your soft moans began growing louder as you neared your release.

with a snarl, kageyama pulled his fingers from you roughly and sat up from in between your legs. your whimper at the sudden emptiness was swallowed by him as he slammed his lips to yours hungrily.

you moaned into the kiss, tasting yourself as you felt him fumble with the tie on his joggers before pulling them down along with his boxers to free his cock.

kageyama pulled away from the kiss, greedily taking in your breathless and flushed expression before slowly pushing his length into you, groaning as he forced your walls to accommodate his girth and impressive length.

tears sprung in your eyes and fell down your soft cheeks as you cried at the stretch, mind going delirious from the pleasure as your boyfriend continued to sink into you.

kageyama leaned down to lick up your tears before roughly snapping his hips into you, sinking the rest of the way in as his pelvis settled flush against you.

you choked as he bottomed out, and your hands instinctively went to grip onto his muscular shoulders, nails digging into his flesh hard enough to leave marks.

kageyama groaned at the feeling of your walls clenching around him, and he pulled back before slamming into you, relishing the way your walls seemed to suck him back in.

“tobio!” you cried out, voice breathless and wobbly as he slammed directly into your g-spot. kageyama smirked at your already fucked out expression, and slammed his cock into you again.

nothing but the sound of skin against skin and your wanton moans filled the stuffy gym air as kageyama pounded into you.

“fuck, (y/n),” kageyama groaned, leaning back on his haunches as he pounded into your sopping cunt, holding your legs up by your knees while biting his lip, watching you lose yourself on his cock.

your soft stomach jiggled with each thrust, shirt having ridden up while you squeezed your breasts through your bra, eyes crossing from the pleasure.

“fuck! you feel too f-fucking good!” you moaned, voice stuttering from the intensity kageyama was fucking into you with. kageyama smiled down at you, cheeks flushed from the compliment. “you’re taking me so well, pretty thing.”

he hissed as you clenched around him. apparently you liked that. so he continued.

“you feel so nice and tight around me, pretty girl.” he moaned out, feeling his high begin to approach him as your soft walls fluttered around him. he let one of your legs drop as he brought a hand to your aching clit.

rubbing tight circles into your sensitive nub, he sped up his hips until you were practically sobbing from the pleasure, coming dangerously close to tipping over the edge.

kageyama groaned at the sight of your flushed cheeks shining with tears and sweat, swollen pink lips caught in your teeth as you stared up at him with furrowed brows.

“i-i’m close!” you stuttered out, body beginning to seize while you could practically taste your orgasm. kageyama wasn’t any better, his hips losing rhythm as he opted to just pounding into you with whatever he’s got left.

“go on, pretty girl.” he huffed out, lazy smile curling his lips as he continued rubbing your clit with precise circles. “make a mess on me.”

a scream ripped through your vocal cords as you spasmed on his cock, eyes clenching shut as you clamped around him so tightly kageyama became lightheaded.

with a choked moan of his own he came deep inside you, filling you up to the brim with his cum as he fell forward, stopping himself from falling onto you as he held himself up with his arms.

you both sat there for a while, desperately trying to catch your breaths as you eventually came down from your highs.

opening your eyes, you find that kageyama was already staring at you, eyes softened and face still flushed from his high. you watched as a singular bead of sweat rolled down his nose before dropping onto the corner of your mouth.

without even thinking, your tongue swiped out to lick it up, and you saw your boyfriend’s eyes harden again, and a gasp escaped you as he rutted his hips into yours, cock twitching back to life.

a devious smirk filled his face, and he raised a singular eyebrow at you in challenge.

“you don’t think we’re done, do you? we still have a lot more sets to finish.”

taglist: @lovelypasteldreams @living-for-drama @arixtsukki @month-seasoning @bakarinnie

[honestsycrets]

A Distraction I: Poppy Seed | [ Hvitserk x Harem Girl!Reader, Oleg x Reader ]

❛ pairing | hvitserk x harem girl!reader, oleg the prophet x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | oleg wants to keep hvitserk's lips loose and mind distracted. he thinks women, drugs, and alcohol should do the trick.

❛ tags | dub-con because inebriated hvitserk, poppy seed effects aren't exactly realistic in causing premature ejaculation, trickery, nsfw, ivar is an ass in this one. 

❛ sy’s notes | It feels like its been months since I’ve written Hvitserk. Ivar doesn’t like her; not completely sure why. 

The sway of the wooden door woke you. Your heart lurched into your throat as you realized that Oleg the Prophet’s booming steps were headed in your way. The candles flickered in a low burn, rivaling the hearth that warmed your nude body.

“There she is. How are you? Are you sore?” Oleg asked, narrowing his eyes on you rather than the other two women there. The others had been sent away to a party he held for his faithful men last night. He held new things in his arms. A beautiful headdress dripping temple rings, a weighted necklace, and long graceful skirt. It hadn’t escaped you that he had no top in his arms that night. “I was rough with you girls tonight. I will make it up to you. I’ve brought you gifts.” 

You rolled your swollen lips in, before popping them back out. “I’ve become accustomed to the abuse.”

“Good. You are a good girl; never questioning me. That is why I have a task for you. I want you to keep him distracted.” 

“Who?” 

Your question resulted in a small mincing smile. You took the gold from him: whoever he meant to impress must have been important. The headdress was elaborate, dripping down your long hair in the back. It matched a necklace that served as a top and a long flowing silken skirt that was should be nothing but a laugh. 

“You’ll know him when you see him,” Oleg explained, clipping in thin cloth of a veil to mimic chastity. You settled your bracelets and arm rings in their place. He took two steps around you, thumping in his boots to seize your shoulders. “He is… comparatively unimportant. Even so, I need his lips loose and loyalty swayed. Make him feel good. I know you know how to do that.”  

That’s what women are good for, he whispered in your ear, distractions. As if your life on the slave trade had taught you anything but. His hand shifted up from your shoulders to your neck, resting against the mark of a slave. His thumb presses on the mark, while the other hand came hard on your bruised ass. A cry rocked up your throat that you bit back down. 

He smiled deeply, “You can do that for me, can’t you?” 

After four quick racing heartbeats, you nodded. 

“Yes Prince Oleg.”

If it was the cripple, you weren’t sure you wanted to do this work. After all: you had seen her handmaidens shooing Ivar into a certain room with Oleg’s attention squarely on the harem girls. Katya and Ivar had sex in no low frequency. If it was him, you knew that you had nothing to offer Ivar that he did not already have.

Oleg said he was comparatively unimportant. It couldn’t be him. Ivar was important to Prince Igor. He was a witty warrior, a strategist, and a good man. You moistened your lips as you sat with poppy and long hair tumbling down your shoulders in wait. Whoever this man was: he would you hoped he was distractible. “Prince Hvitserk,” Oleg’s chest rattled into laughter. A prince? You shifted your kohl lined eyes toward the man and moistened lips painted a lascivious red. The man in question had hair that shone with blonde sheen and eyes bluer than you’ve seen amongst the harem girls of China, Persia. He’s beautiful. A Viking. You heard of them, seen them, but never this close. “Trade has given us many beautiful things. I would like to share them with you.” 

Oleg’s eyes flicker over toward you. He was right. You knew it was him. 

“Come! This is one of my concubines,” Oleg extended his hand out. You lifted up the end of your dress with smoked poppy in the other hand. You wish that he had chosen someone else: Liahua or Sareej: someone, anyone other than you. Hvitserk shifted his elbows off his thighs, pushing himself upright as you cut between his body and the table. You set the poppy seed down.

“She is pretty,” Hvitserk says curtly. 

“Isn’t she? Feel her breasts. She’ll let you,” you sunk to your knees before him. A jingling alerted you to another woman joining the table. “Go ahead.” 

“No I, I don’t--” Hvitserk stuttered, his head turning one way; then another; and eventually to where you were unlacing his trousers. Hvitserk’s hand froze when your mouth made contact with his semi-hard cock. You’ve seen the Vikings that came into Kiev and wondered how they differed from but never had this opportunity-- belonging to Oleg presented its own complications. “Hngh.” 

Oleg reclined back to watch, catching Hvitserk in his panic. “Don’t tell me a Viking like you doesn’t enjoy women.” 

“That’s not it. You’re--” watching. 

“Relax. What is pleasure among brothers? Smell this.”

Poor Hvitserk, your tiny fist pulled his hardening cock. His hand set upon your head, stroking through your soft veil. He’s soft. “No-don’t--” it’s not you he’s talking to this time. You carry on your work. It’s not your fault he couldn’t say no but against yourself, you know it’s your fault for weakening his resolve. 

“It’s poppy seed.” 

His hand falters upon your head and falls away. Your lips pop off the rim of his dick, Hvitserk’s body swaying with an inarticulate complaint spilling off his lips. Oleg was staring at you with his eyebrows pushed together, a sardonic grin rupturing his features. His black eyes gleamed with excitement as he bore at Hvitserk’s throbbing pink cock. A bead of moisture formed at the head and as you stood tall, Oleg held a hand up to you. 

“I’ve never seen you ride a Viking before.” 

He couldn’t have conformed even if he wanted to. The scent of the drug was strong, causing Hvitserk’s shoulders to slacken hard. Your sister-concubine moved aside as you reached for a pot of warm oil, coating Hvitserk’s shaft with an obscene wet squish. You niggled your way out of the thin skirt and stepped over Hvitserk’s thighs, angling his head with your sodden hole. You sunk onto him, resisting the stretch that filled your body with pleasure that hinged on pain. 

“Look at you,” Oleg prompted your attention. “So full.” 

“Fuck,” Hvitserk made a noise you couldn’t understand, hazy and thick. You like to think it was pleasure as your hands settled over his shoulders for some anchorage. You couldn’t be sure, rolling your hips onto his lap to take him in and out of your body. Hair thwapping your low back, Oleg found himself laughing at the pleasure building in Hvitserk’s features. Hvitserk’s useless hands clawed for control at your hips: despite the fact that they were very, irrevocably out of control. 

“He likes it,” Oleg clapped his hands together. He reclines back onto the bed and calls for another concubine. You want to ignore what is going on, forming a deathgrip on the russet cloth covering his shoulders and doing your work. Your hips fell upon Hvitserk in a constant rhythm, squeezing him for emphasis. Your body jingled with coin, a thin film of sweat coating your skin from your work taking the Viking. Distantly you heard Hvitserk grunt and felt the warmth spilling through your pussy. 

“Did he come already? Inside of you?” Oleg threw his head back, seized in laughter that Hvitserk wasn’t there to hear. He was somewhere else; distracted by smokey haze and wonderful pleasure that at the least caused his hips to push up in pursuit of the last whisps of pleasure. You shrugged the scratchy veil back over your shoulder and stand, leaking his seed down your thighs. Oleg clicks his tongue, “He did! You see that Sareej? He can’t hold his seed.” 

She ruptures into giggles. “I saw!” 

“Take him away!” 

You don’t have appropriate clothing. In Oleg’s words, it didn’t matter. Everyone knew you were a whore. You covered your breasts in a cloth that exposed your midriff and rushed to take Hvitserk to his rooms with the prayer that Ivar the Boneless would be busy with Katya as he so often happened to be. Your mind was alight as you set him in his bed with the blinding certainty that you shouldn’t be here. But if you went back to Oleg, you knew what was waiting for you and that might have been worse. 

He wouldn’t remember, anyway.

He shouldn’t have taken that poppy. 

He woke with memory of what had happened: the warm mouth wrapped around his cock and the light in Prince Oleg’s eyes. The excitement that sat behind his words of pleasure. How did he end up here? Perhaps it had been a guard that brought him back. He closed his eyes and dreamed of a distant home when he turned over and met the sudden reality that he wasn’t along anymore. By contrast, the warmth of your figure in his bed shook him into disquiet. Your eyes bore into him with intense expression. Hvitserk seized the knife under the blankets, drawing it to your neck in one smooth motion. 

“Who are you?” 

“Just a slave,” you spoke smoothly. “I brought you back from Oleg’s harem.” 

“You’re that concubine from before,” Hvitserk retracted his blade and tucked it under his pillow. He smiles at you in a deprecating but knowledgeable smile. You want to speak up; tell him the truth. Except you did not care for the hard truth of telling him what you had really done in his haze. “Of course. I must have fainted. I was in the world of the gods with Idunn.” 

“Idunn?”

“Our goddess of eternal youth. She was so beautiful with blonde hair like the rising sun. We had sex until the very dawn,” he set his hand to his bed sheets and propped himself up to sit on the side of the bed. He angles to look at you, flicking his tongue at his upper lip. “It was a good dream.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the truth. A Viking like him? He didn’t need to know the whole truth of what occurred; how Oleg had used him for a show.

 “What are you doing here?” 

“I didn’t want to go back.” you spit out, finding the words dancing on the tip of your tongue. Hvitserk’s room was suddenly tiny and hot as if a great hearth waged within it. You couldn’t breathe, and yet your hands were clammy and wet. “Oleg is insatiable. He’ll want sex. He is… rough and I am sore.” 

An awkward quietness followed. Not the dreamlike vision of Idunn and her apples but the harsh reality of a concubine’s life. Being one of Oleg’s concubines meant that you must do things. Things like what you were attempting right now. There’s a knock at the door before it pops open. You recognized that man who walked in with a stab of a creaking crutch.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed.” Your jewelry jingles as you moved toward the edge of the bed. Hvitserk stops you with a hand to your belly. 

“No, no. Stay. There you must be tired. He is just my brother.” 

Hvitserk turned toward the door, narrowing his eyes at his younger brother that came in. Ivar wrinkled his nose at the sight. It wasn’t often that you felt shame; but something in Ivar’s words settle low in your belly. “I see you’ve had your fun.” 

Hvitserk looks toward you, fixing your veil and minding golden jewelry. “Oleg is treating me well.” 

“I can tell,” Ivar stews on whatever harsh words he came here to spew. “Giving you whores to fuck frustrations into. It’s special treatment, Hvitserk.” 

“Don’t talk about her. She is a slave,” he gestures. “She has no choice.” 

You can’t handle it anymore. Not with the knowledge of what you’d done to Hvitserk under Oleg’s words or the judgement that Ivar carries: despite not knowing you at all. He had always been kind toward you. Never an awry word until today. Ivar holds onto his crutch, turning his sardonic eyes to focus upon you alone. “Then let’s talk about you.” 

“Oleg must be missing me,” you gesture, setting your hand at your bare midriff and smiling at Hvitserk. He sets his fist down on the bed, pushing himself up with a word of complaint brewing on his tongue. “I told you--” 

“I will see you again,” you told him. Despite his hateful words, Ivar bows at his waist in some mockery of respect. “Oleg’s whore.” 

You rush out. Ivar doesn’t like you; you don’t blame him. If he knew what you’d done, you shudder to think of what his knives would have done at your throat. You don’t wait around to find out why. 

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071​ @daughterofthenight117​ @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim​ @msmorganforever​ @destynelseclipsa​ @soleil-dor​ @strangunddurm​ @naaladareia​

[lilbabycee]

bunny // steve rogers (part two) 🐰

READ PART ONE

↳ summary: the reader gets an unwelcome visitor

↳ relationship: soft dark!steve rogers x brat!reader

↳ word count: 5.3k

↳ warnings: sugar baby au, eventual dark steve, daddy kink, eventual smut, mentions of substance abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms + relationships, the reader is rich and a little bit of a bitch

↳ author’s note: it’s back! :) enjoy my loves! x

chapter two: it was for me too

---

"if you really listen, then this is to you mama, there is only so much I can do tough for you to witness it but it was for me too"

- r.i.p 2 my youth, the neighbourhood

---

You can do nothing but nod dumbly, eyes roaming the large figure standing in front of you. The only thing that snaps you out of your trance is Natasha’s quiet exhalation of breath through her nose, her little laugh making you woman up and place your hand in Steve’s larger one.

“Likewise,” you speak lightly, your words little more than puffs of air escaping your mouth. His eyes don’t leave yours for a second and the longer you look at his face, the more that you start to believe that you know him from somewhere. But he drops your hand the moment that recognition starts to claw at your brain and the up-and-down look that he gives you snaps you out of any deep thought.

“So, bunny,” a teasing voice comes from beside you, causing you to tear your eyes away from Steve’s. From the way he’s smirking at you, you assume that Sam was the one who spoke up. Turning your whole body away from Steve, you saunter up to the handsome man glowing like bronze underneath the warm light and take the drink he pours for you with a sultry smile - and you know that you should never take drinks from strangers but without really knowing why, you already trust this man.

“That’s me,” you throw him a wink, sipping from the glass slowly.

“Where’d you get a name like that?” He pats the arm of the sofa and as your smile grows, you perch yourself on it, crossing one leg over the other. Natasha follows your lead, situating herself on an armchair to your right, in between the couch that Steve sits on and the one that holds you, Bucky, and Sam. You open your mouth about to answer Sam’s question, but Natasha swiftly steps in.

“I gave it to her,” she grins, running a hand through her loose waves. You can see both Sam and Bucky’s eyes follow her movements which makes you laugh a little, the hunger displayed in both the pools of brown and blue almost overtly obvious.

“Why?” Bucky’s voice rasps, his tongue coming out to wet his lips. Your eyes can’t help but follow the movement - you’re not blind and he’s a very attractive man - but you stop short when you realize that someone is searing holes into the back of your neck. Looking to the side, you can see that Steve has sat down in his previous seat, hands resting on thick thighs and legs spread wide.

His eyes are on you - unflinchingly, you note, even as yours meet his; it’s obvious that he saw your eyes glued to Bucky’s lips. You engage in a quick staring match and even though you’re not usually the type to back down easily, the way that your face heats up and his gaze makes you feel has you looking away after merely a few seconds.

Your eyes refocus on Natasha and stay there.

“It’s because she’s like the energizer bunny,” your best friend snorts, taking the proffered glass of rosé from Sam’s hand and taking a sip. Her statement makes all the men laugh - apart from Vision because he’s too busy whispering in Wanda’s ear for him to be involved in the rest of the conversation and by Wanda’s reaction, you can tell that their conversation isn’t exactly fit for public consumption.

Natasha continues, tracing a finger along the rim of her glass, “Once she gets on something, it’s… she’s, like, stuck on it, you know? Can’t get enough of it - she goes crazy over it, gets super excited and stuff. It’s cute-”

You interrupt her with a groan, causing a chorus of laughs and ooh’s to rise from the group. “Nat- I-I don’t even like that nickname anyway. I’d rather you call me literally anything else-”

“Okay, bunny,” Bucky grins at you and you reach over Sam to swat at his very hard arm, all traces of your previous nervousness having dissipated with the alcohol. Your hand comes back sore but to humor you, you suppose, Bucky recoils from you and dramatically sinks down in his chair, wailing exaggeratedly.

“Sounds good, bunny,” Sam joins in, flashing you a cheeky smile that only earns him a blow on his equally thick bicep that leaves your hand stinging but he too rubs at his arm after drawing a sharp intake of air through his teeth. They’re funny, so you throw your head back and laugh - really laugh - and find yourself slipping off the side of the couch and into Sam’s lap. You let out a little squeal as Natasha and Bucky laugh at you.

“Whoa there, bunny,” Sam chuckles, hands immediately coming up to grip your waist tightly. “Slow your roll.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, but you’re only mock-annoyed: “Christ, Sam, take a girl out on a date first.”

The response you get from the man underneath you is mirthful - “You’re the one who landed on me, darlin’” - and causes you to smile, but then you feel it again , his eyes so intently focused on the side of your face. You choose to ignore it because if this guy has a staring problem, he can take it up with-

“-you,” Bucky flicks Sam’s ear playfully. “I get plenty of women.”

“Oh yeah, Barnes? ‘Cause your lap is lookin’ awfully empty -”

And the two go back and forth like this for what seems like an eternity. You know that you’ve lost Wanda to Viz , the seat that they once occupied currently vacant. You kind of want to be annoyed at her because she promised that she’d help you with what you really came here for in the first place, but you can’t because, for the past few weeks, you and Natasha have kind of maybe been avoiding her to some degree because, really and truly, she’s been such an uptight bitch - and you say that in the nicest way possible - so you want her to get some dick in peace so that she can release all of that backed-up tension.

You love her, really, but a sexually frustrated Wanda has the potential to rival your mother in terms of how completely unbearable they are to be around.

You turn to speak to Natasha but then Steve clears his throat loud enough for everyone to hear which causes all chatter to cease. He sighs loudly, running a hand over his bearded jaw before he speaks. You can’t help but take some more time to admire the beauty of his jawline, so defined and sharp that you wonder if it could cut up the skin on the insides of your thighs-

“I mean, while I’d love to continue this,” Steve checks his Rolex, “we should probably get down to what you girls really came for.” His eyes land pointedly on you, and you realize that you’re still sat comfortably on Sam’s lap. You sit back even further, wrapping your arm around Sam’s shoulders. Steve’s fists are clenched so hard that you’re sure that his blunt nails are digging into the palms of his hands.

You decide that you’re not going to move.

“Right,” your best friend leans forward to put her empty glass on the coffee table where your own lies and clears her throat. She then says your name and gestures vaguely to where you’re sitting, “she’s looking for an arrangement similar to what Wanda and Vision have-”

“-and since Wanda isn’t here to help us explain exactly what all of that consists of,” you butt in, pressing your long thumbnail to your lower lip and pushing it into your mouth, “we were wondering if you gentlemen would be kind enough to help us out?”

Natasha’s head snaps to yours, her eyebrow raised in a way that says this is not what we agreed on and you reply with it’s fine, but then she responds with why don’t we just wait for Wanda and you don’t even think that warrants a reply. You give her a deadpan look and she physically holds her hands up in surrender; you both know that Wanda’s not coming home with the two of you tonight. The three men around you look lost so you direct your attention back to them.

“So?” you follow up, sucking lightly on the end of your nail. Even from where you’re sitting, you can see Steve’s darkened eyes - his pupils are blown and they only leave a thin ring of blue around them. The rise and fall of his broad chest has gotten just that little bit faster.

He’s so pretty.

“The arrangements are different for all of us,” Bucky downs the amber liquid in his glass. “So it’d just depend on who you’re interested in gettin’ to know, doll. Got anyone in mind right off the bat?”

Oh wow - you didn’t expect to be put on the spot like this so early into this conversation. But you don’t mind; the pressure or awkwardness that should come with a question like this in a situation as unique as this one doesn’t come. You only smile coyly, batting your eyelashes and looking down.

“Oh, well,” you start shyly, swinging your legs innocently. “I don’t really know about all that yet-”

“It’s alright, bunny,” the voice ignites a fire in your veins so you know who’s just spoken. “We’ll make this decision easy for you. She’s mine, boys.”

This makes you choke yet again, causing you to clear your throat loudly. Your fingertips press down on your cheeks just to see how warm your face really is from this blatant stake of his claim on you. Normally, you’d be the first one to protest, completely indignant that this man thinks that he owns you in any capacity. But there’s none of that kind of passion here; rather, you’re more- no, probably not- no, definitely turned on by his words.

The two other men, much like Natasha did only a minute ago, throw their hands up in acquiescence. In fact, they both seem so moved by Steve’s words that they trip over each other to speak.

“Yeah, that’s all good, man.”

“Sounds good to me, pal.”

There’s a lull in the conversation while you all digest the implications of Steve’s exclamation. You twist your fingers together, scraping your nails against each other.

“So,” you drag out the last syllable. “Is there some kind of… contract or something?”

---

You wake up in a bed that feels far too crowded to be your own. There’s a body wrapped around yours, another set of legs intertwined with yours and an arm draped over your torso. In your groggy state, it takes all the willpower that you can summon to turn your head to the left and check who the fuck is sleeping in next to you in- your bed (???).

The hand of the arm that isn’t currently being pinned down by another human being comes up to rub at your eyes, clearing up your bleary vision so that you can try to successfully identify your intruder.

You could say that you’ve never woken up in a situation like this but that would be a lie and your New Year’s resolution this year was that you’d try to be more honest - so the truth is that this is definitely not the first time that you’ve woken up in a situation like this and if anything, this is probably the safest you’ve felt out of all of those scenarios.

Half of the person’s head is buried underneath the duvet so you squint a little in the obnoxiously bright morning light - you silently curse the sun for not wanting to take a fucking day off today - so that you can try to make out a defining feature of the body on top of you. Once your eyes focus, the mop of red hair spread across the white sheets makes you groan and close your eyes again.

You honestly didn’t have a game plan if it wasn’t Natasha.

Confused, you attempt to think back to exactly what happened last night. Since you’ve woken up with Natasha, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt and assume that nothing too compromising happened last night. After nights like Peter’s, you normally cannot immediately recognize the person next to you, so you’re going to take this as a glass half full kind of moment and call it a plus.

Nothing illegal took place as far as you can remember which is another first for you - apart from your excessive underage drinking but you turn twenty-one in a year so you shrug it off.

Wow, maybe I am growing.

After your conversation with those men - there was no contract - you had sent Wanda a text to let her know that you and Natasha were heading home. There was nothing at this party that you hadn’t seen before, so frankly, your work there was done and you had no more business at Peter’s. Speaking of, you did manage to run into him right before you left just to say goodbye to him - ever the gracious guest - and tease him some more about MJ. Naturally, he turned redder than the burgundy suit pants he was wearing and gave both you and Nat kisses on the cheek before almost running away from the two of you.

That gave you a good laugh.

You were halfway to Nat’s car when none other than Steve Rogers appeared from the shadows to put your number on his phone. He said nothing other than I’ll call you before walking further down the valet parking to get his own car. Natasha beeped her horn at you when she saw you lingering - you were staring at his ass - so you hurried to hop in the passenger’s seat of her black sports car after she shouted for you to get in the Porsche or I’m leaving your ass on the side of the road.

And now your phone rings; you can’t help that the weaker side of your brain wants so badly for it to be Steve. He left you with a promise - albeit a vague one - and you think that you’re going to hold him to that, although you don’t know how exactly how you’d go about that since he’s the one who has your number.

Shit.

Natasha groans loudly at the shrill noise coming from your phone speakers, grabbing a pillow and shoving it over her face.

She says your name exasperatedly, “I thought I told you to put that shit on silent-”

“Sorry, sorry,” you tell her, rolling your eyes because you don’t remember her telling you that, and then you sit up. At this moment, you realize that you actually aren’t in your own apartment and are in Natasha’s very grey and white bedroom that you always have something critical to say about. Reaching for your phone, you’re shocked that it’s not dead and is at a respectable 16%. The caller ID shows you nothing useful - unknown caller - and this only gives you some more hope that it’s the handsome man you met last night. You clear your throat before pressing that green button.

“Hello?” you wince at the dryness of your throat, spying an unopened water bottle next to where your phone lay. You grab it and pop the cap hastily, taking a swig while you wait for the reply of the other person.

A very distinctly feminine squeal makes you sigh in disappointment before you pause, the familiar voice making you smile sleepily.

“Shit- fuck, get out of my way- brother-” the person says your name loudly and you know by the rich accent and the impatient tone that it’s-

“Shuri,” you muster up as much enthusiasm as you can for a call this early in the morning - you pull your phone back from your ear to see that it’s actually already 10:33 a.m and wince - because you are actually genuinely excited to hear from your Wakandan best friend. Natasha pulls the pillow off her face at the sound of the girl’s voice through the speaker, and a grin of her own lights up her face.

“Hi, bitch!” Shuri yells and you close your eyes, shaking your head but smiling nonetheless. “I’m almost at your place - I’ll be there in ten.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your chest and you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “Whose phone are you calling from? And Shuri, I’m not at home right now-”

“‘Koye’s - mine’s dead and in the back. Are you with Nat?”

“Well, yeah-”

“Are you two fucking? Without me? ”

The redhead next to you can’t contain her laughter either, curled up in the sheets next to you gasping for breaths.

“Sorry to break it you like this, babe,” you play along. “No, Peter had a party last night-”

“I know - I heard about it. Sounded like fun, but my Baba and I had to do some appearances in D.C yesterday before we came to this goddamn crowded city- brother, I’ll call it whatever I want to call it - Bast, get out of the car.”

There’s some rustling and the sound of a car door slamming before Shuri releases a deep, tired breath.

“I didn’t know you were coming this week,” Natasha has sidled up next to you, resting her head on your shoulder so that Shuri can hear her voice after putting your phone on speaker.

“Neither did I,” the Wakandan princess snorts, the sound of deafening car horns and faint yelling in the background almost drowning out her lilted tone. “It was kind of a last-minute decision. But enough about me - you don’t care about all this stuff. I heard you guys met with Bucky Barnes last night-”

“How do you know Bucky?” You frown, picking at your nails.

“Long story,” she says flippantly, sighing before clearing her throat. “But that’s not the point - I know what kinda guy Bucky Barnes is. What kinda business did you two have hanging around people like that?”

“Well, I wanna hear the story-”

“Shut up,” Natasha doesn’t even look at you when she says the words. “We’re- actually, it’s not even me- she’s looking for a-”

“-sugar daddy?!” Shuri exclaims so loud that both you and Natasha flinch as you move the phone further away from you. Maybe putting her on speaker was a mistake. “What- no, Okoye, not me...yes I’m sure,” the princess’ voice becomes more hushed, “bunny...what do you of all people need a sugar daddy for, miss princess of New York?”

Nat chortles louder than you like so you shoot her a glare, smacking a pillow over her face before redirecting your attention back to the confused girl over the phone. “Daddy cut me off and-”

Shuri;’s laugh is completely mocking and would definitely be offensive if it were anyone else, but you can do nothing but sit there and pout. Natasha’s laughter becomes louder and you roll your eyes, standing up and stretching your arms over your head. You throw your phone at your best friend, causing her to almost fall off the side of the bed trying to dodge it.

“Shut up, both of you,” you scowl. “Shuri, let me know when you’re here - I’m going to go take a shower and reflect on my taste in friends. You guys are both the worst-”

Already halfway inside the en-suite, you only hear a faint chorus of “ We love you too!” before the lock clicks behind you.

---

When you stroll out of the private elevator that leads directly to your apartment, you’re staring at something funny that Shuri’s sent you on Instagram as you walk through the front door, a blindingly white smile on your face. The chunky black and white Balenciaga sneakers on your feet pound the floor lightly and your hand comes up to tug absent-mindedly at one of the strings of Natasha’s black hoodie before running it down the leg of the matching cycling shorts. You push your sunglasses to the top of your head, the minty flavor of your gum filling your tastebuds and the loud sound of your nails clicking against your phone screen echoing against your high walls and tall ceilings.

The sound of a throat clearing makes you blink hard, your eyelash extensions brushing your skin as you look up to determine the identity of your intruder.

Once you see who it is, you physically are unable to prevent the loud “fuck” from falling from your lips. So when she stands up from your couch in your living room with her arms folded over her breast implants and her full, fake lips pursed while her eyebrows shoot to her hairline, you can’t help but laugh, surprised that she can still look like a raging bitch with all that botox in her face. 

Her grating voice squeaks your name indignantly making you roll your eyes as you drop your oversized black bag by your shoe rack. Kicking off your trainers, you breeze right past her and flop down on one of your sofas, the plush material soothing your aching bones.

It’s been five days since Peter’s party and since then, Wanda had given both Bucky and Sam your number upon their request - you’ve been texting them all week. As much as you love your friends, these men are hands-down two of the funniest people that you’ve ever met. Despite your frequent conversations with his two best friends, there’s been radio silence from Steve Rogers. You don’t want to give these men the impression that you’re desperate - even though that’s exactly what you are - but you’re getting impatient. You don’t chase anybody; not once in your entire life has anyone made you work for their attention, so this whole situation is making you antsy.

You’ve just returned from the gym with Sam and Bucky where you were shocked to turn up outside only to see the two men shirtless, a huge but not unwelcome surprise in more than one way - “you have a fucking metal arm?!” - and it was truly a gift from above to essentially watch them work out from your place on the treadmill. You couldn’t even run - you almost fell on your goddamn face - because you were so distracted by the strong, glistening men across from you. You had instead slowed to a walk, texting Natasha and Shuri, sending them videos of these gorgeous men lifting seemingly impossibly heavy amounts with such ease and agility.

You couldn’t deny that it was making you feel things.

They then insisted that you should come and lift with them because “it’s rude to stare, bunny” and that was definitely less fun than just watching them.

And now here you sit, lounging carelessly and purposefully ignoring the presence of the woman sitting across from you. She sighs loudly, drumming her freshly-manicured red claws on the armrest of the couch, her eyes glued onto your face. Clearing her throat louder this time, you can feel the heat of her gaze on your profile burn hotter.

“Honey, are you just going to let me sit here all day?” your mother whines - like a child, you think - and flicks her hair face from her face.

“Yup,” you pop the ‘p’ and then fall silent, chewing your gum audibly, satisfied when you see her eye twitch in your periphery.

The two of you sit like this for a while, the deafening quiet weighing heavily on your mother’s shoulders. She’s always been a woman who’s liked to talk, fill moments of peace with mindless chatter and you’ve hated it all your life.

“Stop slouching,” your mother suddenly snaps, letting out yet another sigh, but one of relief as if it’s been painful for her to hold in her chest. With the silence effectively broken, you give a sigh of your own and finally meet her eyes, the same pretty color as yours shining back at you like a mirror. Then you assess the rest of her: the bleached blonde extensions, over-lined lips, and the designer coral pantsuit. You hold her gaze as you slip further down onto the couch, your posture even more relaxed than before. She narrows her own at you and a Chesire cat grin spreads on your face.

“You didn’t come here to correct my posture, mother,” you tell her, looking back at your phone, “so to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You haven’t been returning my calls,” she arches an eyebrow, dusting an imaginary piece of lint off of her pants, “even though I told your dad to tell you when you called him a week ago-”

“You don’t think there’s a reason that I’ve been dodging your calls?” you ask rhetorically, running the pad of your thumb over an eyebrow. Your birth giver cocks her head at you curiously, as if she’s truly confused as to why you don’t seem to like her-

“I don’t know why you don’t like me,” she states airily, examining her nails contemplatively. Your eyes dart back to hers in surprise, your jaw literally dropping because you’re that floored. “I’ve been nothing but kind to you-”

“Get out,” you say quietly, immediately shutting her up.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said get out,” you repeat, tossing your phone onto the couch behind you and standing up swiftly. Your mother is still sitting across from you, so you gesture with your hands so as to emphasize your point. “You should be lucky I haven’t fucking blacklisted you from this apartment-”

She exclaims your name, “-don’t cuss at me-”

You power through, “-after all you’ve done to me - so what I mean, mother, is get the fuck out of my apartment!”

Your voice carries through your home. When the echoes finally stop, the woman in front of you turns her nose up at you, clutches her taupe Birkin, and clicks those stupid stilettos all the way to your elevator. When she presses the button, she turns around to glare at you, failing to notice your defensive stance or how you’re fighting tears that you thought you’d already spent years crying out.

“Your father will be hearing about this,” she smirks and the doors open, bathing the side of her face in bright, artificial light. You don’t even look at her as the elevator chimes and the rose gold doors slide closed. But when they do, all of the breath leaves your body in a loud sob, your shaking hands coming up to wipe at your eyes.

The ringing of your phone interrupts you, the caller ID a number that you don’t recognize. In your current state, you answer it unthinkingly, not even registering that you’re about to be speaking to a total stranger.

“Hello?” You sniffle over the phone, running your sleeve over your cheeks to rid them of any tear tracks.

The person over the line greets you by saying your name in a deep tone that shoots straight to your panties, meaning that you know exactly who this is. It’s the call you’ve been waiting for the whole week and of all times, this is when he decides to pick up his damn phone and remember that you exist?

Motherfucker.

“Steve,” you breathe, gulping down large amounts of air to try and keep any residual tears at bay. “I-, uh, hi.”

His chuckle on the other end of the phone causes your cheeks to heat up because it should be illegal to sound like that. “Hi to you too, bunny-” you interrupt him with a shaky breath that’s louder than you anticipate, “-hold on, have you been crying?”

Shit, you think, massaging your temples. “Yeah,” you admit, sniffing again. It’s likely that your ears are deceiving you, but you think that you hear him groan, a sinful sound from deep in his throat that makes even more moisture pool in your underwear. “It’s not a big deal though - it’s nice to hear from you.”

“Are you doin’ okay?” he asks softly, making your heart do little flips in your chest.

“I’m fine,” you state almost automatically, hoping to brush off any concern and move on. You walk over to your fridge, scanning the contents before your eyes land on the row of clear, blue-capped bottles with a pink flower on the front. You put your phone on speaker and place it on the counter as you snatch one of the bottles of water from the shelf, cracking it open and taking a long swig from it.

“You don’t sound fine,” Steve protests, sounding borderline amused. “Maybe you can tell me all about it when I take you out to dinner tonight.”

He tells you mid-swig and of course, there’s no way for him to know his, but you’re so taken aback that you falter, subsequently choking on all of the water in your mouth. The coughs that wrack your body are violent, and there’s a burn in your throat from the strength of your body’s automatic reaction. You have to shut the fridge door and turn around, bracing a hand on the island counter where your phone lies.

“Sweetheart?” he probes, probably holding back a laugh but you can’t really discern whether or not that’s true over the ear-splitting sound of your coughing.

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologize, wheezing through the paralyzing attack on your body. “That sounds great - where are we going?”

You finally recover, taking another - slower - sip of your drink, tears stinging your eyes.

“Hey now,” Steve laughs again, and you can’t help but notice how carefree he is now compared to the night you met him. It makes you smile. “That’d be telling. Just be ready by 8 - I’ll get my driver-”

“-oh no, that’s okay - if you give the location to my driver, he can take me-”

“No,” his voice is booming, even through the phone, and it gives you pause. His authoritative tone should’ve made you cry, especially with all that’s happened in your past, but instead, a tidal wave of desire makes you shudder and threatens to pull you underneath the surface. “My driver will pick you up at 8,” he repeats and you press the power button on the side of your phone so it shows you the time: 2:49, “and I’ll send over something appropriate for you to wear. Are we clear?”

“Yeah,” you exhale, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

“I asked if we were clear, sweetheart,” his voice has taken on a warning tone now and you can’t deny the heat that courses through you.

“Yes, sir,” you give him the answer almost instinctively, frowning afterward because you feel like you’re in school.

“Good girl, bunny baby,” he coos and it’s this that makes you almost audibly moan.

You? A praise kink?

Absolutely.

“I’ll see you then, hmm, honey?” he prompts you to respond. Normally, you don’t let anybody that you’re romantically involved with call you honey because it reminds you so acutely of your mother, and you suspect that she knows that which is why she keeps calling you that stupid nickname. But with Steve, you already feel like you’re in no place to be making demands.

And for the first time in your life, that doesn’t bother you all that much.

“Yes, Steve,” your eyelashes flutter and you squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease yourself of the growing discomfort at your most sensitive area.

“Good, good,” he speaks, sounding distracted. “I’ve got a meeting now, bunny - talk later.”

You don’t even get an opportunity to say your own goodbye before he ends the call. You save him to your contacts quickly before you forget, and then a thought hits you that makes you freeze.

How does he know your size and - more importantly - how the fuck does he know where you live?

tagged: @evnscvll​ @donutloverxo​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @literaturefeen​ @smutdiariess​ @90sinspiredgirl​ @cruelsummer-s​ @honnneyybee 

[brattyfics]

Cape Disappointment | Part One

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Black!OC [Chantel Williams]

Summary: Miguel doesn’t rescue a damsel in distress because Chantel Williams is not a damsel in distress.

Warnings: None yet.

Chantel Williams was a lot of things. Quirky, witty, sarcastic. Condescending, impulsive, sometimes even chaotic. She could be all those things and more, but she refused to be anyone’s victim.

“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m not a damsel in distress…” She chanted over and over in a low tone. 

On the side of a low traffic road, snow raining down on her head, Chantel willed the words to be true. Unfortunately, she remembered very little of what her Papa taught her about cars, eyeing the confusing parts under the hood with frustration.

Papa was a school teacher but he worked as a shade tree mechanic on the weekends to be able to afford dance classes for little Chantel. Teaching was his passion through and through. He would talk her ear off in the car on the way to recitals or while she did homework on the bench in his workshop. Being a bratty kid, she learned to tune him out when the topic didn’t interest her and not for the first time she regretted not soaking up more of Papa’s wisdom before he passed. 

If she had, maybe she wouldn’t be stuck on the side of the road with no solution in mind. Empty handed and no closer to fixing the car, she shuffled through the snow. It wasn’t much warmer inside the car despite the thick North Face coat she wore with a matching hat and pair of gloves. She was sure she resembled a wet dog as she shook the snow off, not wanting the ice to melt into water droplets that would surely sting. 

Just a week earlier, she’d splurged on the fanciest new smart phone after losing the older model at a dinner party. Even with all its promised features, it was useless. No signal and no nearby WiFi networks to connect to meant she couldn’t call her sort-of-sometimes boyfriend for help even if she wanted to. She couldn’t even call a tow truck! 

Pride. 

Another one of Chantel’s many traits. She liked to think of it as a positive thing. It kept her from being desperate, saved her from being dependent on others for her happiness. No one else seemed to agree her pride was a good thing. 

Among the naysayers was her sort-of-sometimes boyfriend, Adam. Pride was what had led her to take off from the Yurt they shared on their week-long winter break getaway to race back to her industrial loft in the heart of Seattle despite the weather advisory. She would never admit it to anyone else, but she realized her pride didn’t always serve her well. 

If not for her bruised ego, it would have been funny that her car had chosen to break down a few miles north of Cape Disappointment State Park. It was where she had been staying with Adam. The yurt was too far away to walk back to in the snow but still close enough that it only made sense to stay there for the night once the car issues were resolved. She wasn’t looking forward to ending the night with him. 

Remembering Papa’s belief in God showing up when most needed, Chantel sent up a quick prayer. She really hoped she wouldn’t have to wait long for someone else to come down the otherwise deserted road. Winters in Washington were fairly mild so she wouldn’t lose her extremities to hypothermia or anything crazy like that, but she’d certainly suffer by way of the shivers. 

Any sane person was cuddled up next to the fireplace in their cabin with a bowl of chili, or participating in heat-inducing sexual activities in their yurt to keep warm, not on the road driving. It was only natural for her thoughts to snowball into all the types of un-same people she could run into. 

Indigenous women from Washington and Canada went missing far too often on roads just like the one she had so conveniently broken down on. Chantel had a bad habit of researching everything there was to know about topics when they peaked her interest and she knew too much about human trafficking in the area to not feel a considerable amount of fear. 

“That would be my luck.” She muttered meanly to herself, resolving that whatever happened would be her own fault. 

It wasn’t like a whole lot of people would come looking for her anyway. She had a large group of friends in Seattle, but she kind of had a reputation for taking off without saying much. She hadn’t even told anyone about the weekend excursion to Cape Disappointment! The family she had left she wasn’t close to, and by the time Adam realized she hadn’t made it back home it would be too late. 

Yellow headlights bathed the narrow road, the light blinding her the closer it got. Her hazard lights blinked red, signaling that she was broken down, but Chantel second guessed whether she wanted the help. 

“I’m going to be a sex trafficking victim all in the name of independence. Way to go, idiot.” 

Her fingers fumbled around in the gigantic backpack she’d been using as a purse for the weekend, hastily pulling at the zippers until she found what she was looking for. A purple taser she purchased on Amazon for a whopping ten dollars. She doubted it would stop anyone in their tracks, but it was better than nothing. 

It turned out the man who knocked on her window wasn’t an axe wielding serial murdering rapist, or at least he didn’t appear to be. She tucked the small device into her side as the ridiculously handsome middle aged man with a salt and pepper beard smiled at her through the foggy glass. 

He looked harmless enough, sporting a pair of smart designer glasses and what Chantel knew to be a really expensive cashmere turtleneck sweater underneath an equally expensive Canada Goose coat. She wasn’t shy about looking him up and down as she assessed the risk. What if the male model was a decoy?

His neatly manicured eyebrows twisted down in confusion and she thought it was one of the cutest things she had ever seen. 

She rolled down the window with a nervous smile.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” 

She hated how breathy the words came out but he was truly stunning. 

Tall, fit, well-dressed. 

“Are you alright? It looks like you’re having some trouble.” 

A gentleman.

“What would make you think that?” Chantel spoke before she thought it through, but the stranger didn’t seem to take offense if the amused smirk on his face could be trusted. “I’m kidding. Yeah, no. I’m not alright. The car was making weird noises so I pulled over and now it won’t turn back on. I looked under the hood but I have no idea what’s wrong.”

He nodded attentively while she spoke, watching her lips with interest. She noticed him staring and licked them.

“I don’t know how much of a help I’ll be.” His bronze skin reddened with the admission and she wondered if he was blushing or if the cold was getting to him. “I don’t know anything about cars but I can give you a ride wherever you want.”

She’d like a ride alright. In his cushiony truck that may as well have been a royal carriage considering the circumstances. Or on his handsome bearded face that she couldn’t stop staring at. 

Chantel wondered if he could tell what she was thinking. 

Movement caught her eye and she noticed an identical black SUV pulling off the road to park behind the one Prince Charming departed from. Her hand squeezed around the taser instinctively. 

Was the sexy stranger bait to catch naive, unsuspecting girls? 

“...but I’m sure we’d both rather leave it to the professionals.” He gestured back towards the dark truck and paused, noticing they weren’t alone. Her breath caught in her chest when four bulking men slammed their doors shut and started walking in their direction.

“I apologize. That’s my security team. I left without telling them.” 

Hmm. A kindred spirit. 

Who was he to have a security team? Was he telling the truth? Or just stalling? 

She wanted to believe him. To trust that it was in human nature to help one another without some ulterior, sinister motive. 

Did she even have a choice? How long would she have to wait on the next passerby? There was no guarantee they would be any better than the (so far) kind stranger and his friends.

Chantel Williams was a lot of things, but she was not naïve. With surprising coordination, she swung the door open, knocking the man back several steps. Her boots crunched as she landed in the snow. 

“Back up or I’m going to tase you!” She warned, putting space between herself and the stranger while keeping an eye on the approaching men. 

The corners of his mouth turned up as he fought back a smile. 

Chantel scoffed. He wasn’t taking her seriously. 

“I’m not fucking around!” She insisted, charging up the small device. The buzz felt more powerful than she remembered. The man seemed to think so too, changing his approach. He spoke in a soft tone. “Can we slow down?” 

“Don’t patronize me. Just back up like I said. No, this way!” She ordered until he stood across from her with his back to his men. 

Behind him, they speed up their approach but they could only move so fast in the snow. Following her gaze, the strange man looked over his shoulder and gestured for the men to stall at the front of his truck several feet away. One of them shouted at her to put the taser away from his position. He sported two braids and a cut in his brow. Chantel shouted back at him to ‘shut the fuck up’

Mr. GQ gave another signal and like he was the conductor of an orchestra, all noise ceased. Well, all external noise at least. Chantel swore she could hear the sound of her heart ringing in her ears. 

“Hey!” He demanded her full attention. His hands were up in a defensive position. “What are you looking for here?” 

It was a great question but she had no answer for him.

Trouble maker. Fire starter. Full-time agitator.

Chantel was that way even as a child, responding to normal adolescent teasing with violence. Sharp bites in the classroom or royal rumble style fights on the playground were her specialty in grade school. She made anyone stupid enough to provoke her regret it whether big or small, male or female. That wasn’t to say she was organized or calculating in her plans. She acted and dealt with things as they came. 

She had no idea what the endgame was when she pulled the taser, but she had to stick with it. The crowd of onlookers made her feel more justified in her rash decision.

“I don’t think you really want to hurt me.”

“Now, what would make you think that?” Chantel asked incredulously. He didn’t know her from Eve. 

She was even more steadfast in pointing the taser in his direction but he didn’t seem phased.

“When you want to hurt somebody, you don’t wait around or warn them. You just do it.”

“Are you suggesting I should’ve tased you?”

He shrugged as if they were discussing the weather.

“That certainly would have been more effective.”

Was he serious?

“I mean I still can. If you keep talking I just might.”

He had the gall to laugh in her face. 

Hysterically. 

And it wasn’t fleeting or sarcastic. It was genuine laughter from deep down in his gut. She hated how beautiful he was, even in the middle of showing blatant disrespect for her ability to harm him. 

“Seriously?” She griped, fighting against the way her face muscles twitched. 

Giggle box.

When somebody at church mispronounced a word during the announcements or when her aunt murdered a hit song, she giggled uncontrollably. Papa chastised her for it, but it couldn’t be helped. When the urge struck and she got that itch in her throat, she had to laugh.

So naturally, like two birds of a maniac feather they shared a laugh in four (and counting) inches of snow.

***

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[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

the worlds collide - i: an old face

Summary: Who are you? Now that the new world has collided with the remnants of the old? 

Pairing: BTS x reader (slight Got7/Jackson x reader)

Warnings: Referenced violence, covert sexism, zombies  Notes:  I knoooow I should be working on lessons to build and looking back at you but this idea just won’t let go. I originally wrote it for my 30 minute challenge but it got out of hand. So here it is, a zombie au! Not sure how long it’ll be yet but we’ll see! UNEDITED. Word Count: 3.2k

At the center of the end of the world, humanity was stripped to what it only needs to exist - strength, camaraderie, and grit.

With the undead nipping at your heels day and night, the only thought that remained were thoughts of where the nearest exist is, how to store food, how much farther for the next stronghold, and how long will that stronghold last. To survive, you stripped away everything unnecessary from your former life. All the bashfulness, the shame, and coated yourself with an armor as thick as the new callouses on your fingers - you still remember the first time you’ve went topless around Namjoon, and neither of you flinched.

Frankly, you’ve forgotten how to be anything else but this brought you to your new role in the new world. You’re no longer a girl, or a woman - you’re a survivor.

And with your old life etched in the sinew of your muscles, of your arms and your legs, you became a valuable member of the group. Along with Jungkook and Hoseok, you carry the front, bashing heads of zombies left and right, clearing the way to a new possible food source and haven.

It was a tiring existence, the type of tired that can’t be washed away by sleep. If that’s what you can call those pockets of peace you have when you’ve finally trusted them to watch your back.

It took long for you to finally drop your guard around these boys that you now call your family. Understandable, given that men didn’t really have a great track record for women to trust them even prior to the apocalypse. But you’ve met them in a tight circumstance, that had them trusting you before you even bothered to try.

(It was Jimin who first reached out, somehow unchanged by the cruelty of the new world. Always soft, always yearning.)

The seven of them had been friends before shit went down, and you were just a lucky one to be part of their orbit.

You remind yourself of this now that the new world has began.

This is the longest you’ve stayed in one place since two years ago, and it’s starting to feel like a place everyone could plant their roots in. The town’s largely untouched by the apocalypse, its strategic location in the mountains and quick response had them building trenches and walls, to keep the hoard from closing in.

It’s an extra precaution thoughtfully made by a self-sustaining community. For once, isolation brought forth more benefits than mishaps. They’ve barely lost people, largely untouched by the terrors of the world outside theirs. Innocent. Their lives went on. No nightmares, nothing.

The first time one of the pleasantly-dressed girls approached you with what could’ve been friendship, you flinched.

The boys were taken to it so easily, perhaps being as weary as you are didn’t make them jaded as it has made you.

Namjoon was swept away by the village committee, his brains and leadership evident with how he led you to safety. Jin and Jimin’s apprenticed under the village doctor, Yoongi’s turned to farming along with Taehyung, while Hoseok and Jungkook’s muscles are put to test building houses at the craft shop.

Everybody’s found a place except you, because while this town’s been untouched in all the good ways, it’s also been untouched in a sense that it kept to all the antiquated ways of the old world.

And, you hate how much you resent it in your deepest of hearts.

It’s as if they thought that putting you in a dress will wash away all the blood in your hands, as if you didn’t shed as much as all the boys did if not more. You’ve been turned away from all the things you could do, and are now being forced into things they want you to.

It’s suffocating, being torn with the desire to put your foot down and the fear of being perceived as ungrateful.

“They don’t understand, do they?”

You blink out of your thoughts and turn to a familiar face making himself comfortable beside you.

Jaebeom’s pushed away the unfinished basket to the side and pulled up one of his long legs to rest his elbow on.

By his side is his gun, locked and loaded, always ready even after months of quiet. You didn’t even hear him come in, but instead of being unsettled, you’re a slightest bit relieved to know that at least someone hasn’t gotten rusty.

The scar on his eyebrow stands out underneath the moonlight, and on  the porch of your little house way’s away from the center of the town, you two make a fine pair of outsiders.

“No, they don’t.”

Even in times of peace, loss is inevitable.

Namjoon mulls over this as he looks at the list of names up for the next supply run. Two names have been crossed, and two funerals were attended last week. One had a body, another didn’t.

Old man Jungho died of a heart attack after his son died outside, and along with the grief, Namjoon could feel the pressure placed on his shoulders by a community unused to “unnatural” losses.

He’s developed a cycling procedure that makes it slightly fair to everyone who volunteered. Marked with blue ink are the ones who were in the previous run, those in black are the ones who are up for the next one.

With the latter list down by two, Namjoon turns to a different corner of his notebook to see your name. Until now, he’s had every excuse not to put you out there but now…

“Fuck,” Namjoon sighs and rubs his face with his hands. He doesn’t know why you’ll want to do this again. He’s tried asking you but somehow, you’ve grown farther and farther away.

When he tried to find you in the village garden with Yoongi, suddenly you’re out getting water. When Seokjin did your monthly checkup, you’re as impenetrable as the walls, when Hoseok tried to approach you with improvements for your home, you brush him away saying you’ve dealt with it with Jaebeom.

Jaebeom.

Whom you’ve only met a month in after you’ve settled into town. Who somehow’s been rumored to visit your house after dark, when the boys you’ve spent two years with haven’t even gotten the chance to step into your home.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath. You’ve been so unreachable it’s made him cry out of frustration when the nights are dark and the seven of them feel your absence the most in their own quaint home.

They miss you, so much. Even Yoongi who’s as taciturn as they come has tried reaching out to you, working endlessly hard in his own little garden at the back of their house to produce strawberries that you love so much.

“Who’s on the list?”

Hoseok steps in the kitchen and jolts Namjoon out of his longing. He’s wearing his “fight” pants and boots, his gun taken out of the secret cellar and empty go bag slung on his shoulders.

Namjoon pushes his notebook towards him and watches as his friend’s face grow dark at the sight of your name.

“No.”

Namjoon sighs at the conviction in his friend’s voice. It draws in Jungkook from the living room, wearing the same pants and same tension in his shoulders every run.

It’s different when it was just the seven of them, now, they have to lead a bunch of unseasoned people outside the walls just so they don’t go in blind when - not if - shit hits the fan. The loss of the Youngho weighs heavily on Jungkook. They were of the same age, but not the same life experience and ultimately, that was what killed him.

“No, what?”

Jungkook takes in the tension of the room and glances down at the open notebook. “Oh.”

He mouths your name silently, treasuring each syllable. How long since he’s called you? How long since you two talked? Back outside, he liked to believe you and him had a special bond born in the midst of danger and trivial common hobbies from the old world.

He still has that photo card of an old gaming character you two loved.

“I can’t play favorites.” Namjoon states, teetering between duty and keeping you safe inside the walls. If you knew, you’d probably hate him for this, but you don’t.

“You can - you have!” Hoseok slams his hands on the table, the sound echoing inside their house. Everything falls silent followed by footsteps from the second floor.  “What makes it different now?”

“The difference is the fact that we lost someone!” Namjoon bellows, his anger and stress rolling off him like waves but Hoseok doesn’t stand down. He knows its selfish, but the only thing that has him going now that you’ve pulled away is the knowledge that you’re safe.

“We always lose someone—“

“It’s not just us anymore, you know that, Hobi.”

Hoseok bites his cheek at Namjoon’s use of his nickname and he could feel the rest watching him like a hawk. All at once the fight goes out of him. It’s true. In exchange for safety, the get a community - for better or worse.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he turns to Taehyung, who in turn offers a strained smile. “At least, she has two of you to keep an eye on her out there. Like old times.”

Hoseok never thought he’d feel nostalgic about the times they’re elbow-deep in zombie gut but — “Yeah, like old times.”

Except, it isn’t like the old times.

Jungkook’s always been an awkward guy around girls, especially pre-apocalypse. He was all long limbs and Bambi eyes, not quite steadfast on what he was as a man and easily shaken by every attractive girl’s attention.

And although he’s grown a bit, confident in his looks and skills in this new world, he still hasn’t mastered the art of rejecting someone.

(He’s never had to, not when it was you.)

And so, he’s stuck at the last meeting with his back against the wall and one of the town’s remaining daughters - Hyerin-  crowding his space as opposed to being beside you across the room.

He doesn’t even know that Hyerin signed up for the run, especially with how he’s told her that it’s dangerous and that she hasn’t had the proper training to go out there. It rankles him all sorts of wrong when she said that her father said that “it isn’t as dangerous as they made it out to be” as if they’re lying about the dangers they’ve faced.

And sure, they’ve cleared out a large space around the town of zombies but things can always go wrong, and if there’s anything Jungkook has learned is that things have a habit of luring you to a false sense of security before fucking everything up.

Hoseok’s giving the briefing to their small group of ten, and he could see his friend’s eyes linger a second too long whenever it passes you. You with your hair pulled back and back straight, it almost brings him back.

But then you smile at something Jaebeom says and Jungkook feels his chest tightening on cue. You haven’t smiled nor even looked at him since the start of this briefing. What had he done wrong? What have they done wrong that drove you away?

“We might encounter people on this run, and I want you to remember - people are more dangerous than zombies.” Hoseok reminds the group, “They can think, they can plot - and are much harder to predict. We’ll need someone to bring up the front before we flank the space—“

Before Jungkook could raise his hand, yours shoot up along with Jaebeom’s.

“I’ll do it.”

From the back, Jungkook could clearly hear the murmurs of the men in the group. Someone, someone stupidly brave enough speaks up, “I think you should let the men handle this, darling.”

Jungkook sees you put your hand on Jaebeom’s arm before turning to where the voice is. It’s one of the older folks, large and burly with eyes alight with mockery.

You smile sickly sweet, “Oh? I’m not the one who puked on the side of the road during the last run, am I?”

The man sputters and laughter erupts around him, his friends who were equal parts terrified at the sight of a half-torso crawling towards them last month. It’s easy to laugh when it’s not your ass on the line.

Before he gets another word in, you remind him, Hoseok, Jungkook and everyone in the room how dangerous you were on the outside. And how dangerous you still are here.

“And for the record, could you stomach killing a man when you can’t even finish off a zombie? I can,” you pause the silence being answer enough, “So, no, I’m not leaving this to the men.”

“Antagonizing them isn’t earning you any points.”

Keeping your eyes on the road helps you steady your nerves. Outside, you could see the remains of pushed over cars as your caravan makes its way away from the forest and down the mountain.

According to the last team’s run’s intel, there were traces of people loitering down the town proper and so Namjoon’s sent a team before you get caught unawares.

Hoseok coughs, “Y/N. Are you listening?”

“I didn’t know there were points to earn.”

One line, and its scathing but, Hoseok thinks, at least you’re talking to him. He was afraid he’s forgotten your voice.

He may have abused his power a bit to split you up from Jaebeom but it still makes sense, given that you two have worked together longer outside. You with your speed and him with his agility, you make a pretty good team.

And with your pretty face, people tend to underestimate you until its too late.

Hoseok pauses and mulls over your statement. Adjustment is hard, he knows, pandering to people who don’t know how hard it is on the outside but it’s needed. He doesn’t understand where your dislike of it comes from, so much so you’ve decided to ostracize yourself not only from the people in town but also from them.

(He’s a man. Of course he doesn’t understand. Old or new world, men can only touch the surface of what damage the world has done to women.)

“Y/N, it’s just so we could live with them peacefully. No trouble.”

You finally turn to him and he shivers from the coolness in your eyes. “When have I caused them any trouble? I help out, don’t I? I’m a functioning member of the community - is it required to be all chummy with them?”

Framed like that, Hoseok doesn’t have any answer but a semblance of the truth lying in a question, “Why don’t you talk to us anymore?”

Outside, the caravan reaches its destination and people pour out of the old trucks.

“Is there anything to talk about?”

Of course, of course there is, Hoseok wanted to say. But job calls, and  when the sight of tracks greet your group, everything goes back to the back burner.

By the looks of it, there were at least four people about. All with large feet which most likely mean they were males.

Hoseok made a executive decision and sent back all of the group except you, Jaebeom and Jungkook. Given the situation, your group had too many people for this run turned reconnaisance and moving that many people will slow down any retreat you might need to do.

So he sent them back up with a message to Namjoon about the situation. He’ll get a lashing later but he’s sure the guys will understand. A small group is more manageable, but a group with established trust and dynamics (at least with the three of you) is more than ideal.

Your tracking leads the team to one of the larger convenient grocery stores in town. It’s long been looted and cleaned out, but somehow, one of the older craftsmen in the village figured out how to run the generator. Now, it’s store room is being used to hold and freeze any meat and fish you can’t afford to salt. How long you’ll have it running with the generator, who knows?

At what previously was an aisle for chips and snacks, you and Hoseok tread lightly, guns cocked and hands steady, your ears straining to hear any off-beat step as you get deeper into the store. Somewhere across the room, you know that Jungkook and Jaebeom are doing the same, closing off the larger exit.

It’s four on four, the odds may not be on your favor if it comes down to it but it’s not on theirs entirely either -whoever they are.

The morning light filters through the broken glass windows and reflects on your gun as you step forward to the large space at the end of the aisle. At the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook, -free of that girl hanging off his arm- tilt his head towards the large freezer ahead of you.

Behind him, Jaebeom moves to the right, taking position for a surprise attack while you three continue to advance. The freezer’s door is slightly ajar and you could almost make out the conversation and the shadows moving about inside. There’s unfettered laughter and guffaws, pulling you into a false sense of familiarity.

That laugh…

You were so in your head that your next step crushes a stray glass and echoes in the store. For a moment, it rings in the air, suspended like Hoseok freezing to look at you, before suddenly everything just- drops.

Out the door, someone tackles you to the ground, grabbing your gun and tossing it under the shelves. Your head bounces against the tiles and it steals your breath in pain but without missing a beat, you drive the heel of your palm to the man’s chin, hard enough to unbalance him off your waist.

The man rolls to the side and tries to grab your foot before you break free and kicks it to his face. With satisfaction, you hear him grunt in pain before grabbing at you again.

To the side, you see Hoseok trying to reach you, his gun similarly tossed away by the paler and taller man clutching his shoulder, slumped against a turned over cart. You’re ears are ringing, and you might’ve hit your head but vaguely you could hear someone punching someone at the other side of the aisle.

Everything happens so fast - and ends so quickly.

Your vision clears up as a cock of a gun rings clear, pausing everyone’s movements.

In front of you is a face you’d never thought you’d see again. He’s darker, with what seems to be a permanent five o’clock shadow on his jaw, but his eyes light up at the sight of you and a smile stretches on his lips, his hands up but uncaring of Jaebeom’s gun against his head.

“Y/N, long time no see.”

You gasp, frozen on the floor. “Jackson.”

End Notes: Hearts are appreciated but comments are gold. Let me know what you think and if you want to be included in a tag list!

[miraculousandbts]

OT7 | Bosses Of A Kind

Summary: Two bitches at work target you, just because you’re close to the CEOs, who they were crushing on. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t know you.

Pairing: None

Genre: Fluff, Savage (?)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Light profanity (I should probably put that in my other posts too…). I guess that’s it.

You were hurriedly getting ready. Somehow managing to comb your hair and zip your pants at the same time, you hopped on your right foot while wearing a sock on your left one, fully knowing that there was a ninety percent chance you'd fall down. Heaving a sigh when you tripped but caught yourself before you fell, you did the same thing for your other foot.

You grabbed your shoes, hair tie, car keys, and office bag and ran to your car in just your socks. You saw your neighbour and a good friend shake her head at you, adorning an amused smile. She was used to your antics. You gave her a small smile in greeting and got in your car.

You started your car and tried to slip your feet into your semi-formal shoes. Finally stopping your car at a traffic light, you tied your hair. You bent down and put on the velcro on your shoes. Not wanting to wear heels, finding the men's office shoes too formal and sport shoes too casual, you had opted for some simple and stylish school shoes.

You weren't like most girls in your office, wearing tops or shirts with opened buttons showing cleavage, and pairing that with skirts and heels and wearing a lot of makeup and stylish hair. Some women did wear suits, but that looked like they were overdoing it. You simply wore a normal buttoned shirt with trousers with your hair always tied up. You also didn't wear any make up except some lip balm. And your friend f/n was just like you...as long as it came to outfits; she was more girly than you could imagine.

You finally reached your office, parking your car and being extremely careful to not hit another car. You took the thick file from the passenger seat and opened it, checking every document properly and mentally ticking off stuff from your list of things required for the meeting today.

You gathered the papers band put them back on the file. Taking your office bag and tucking your file beneath your armpit, you stepped out. You just stood there for a moment, relishing in the chirping of the birds and swishing of the trees with closed eyes and a serene smile, thankful that one of your bosses was just as much of a nature lover as you were. You opened your eyes when you heard a couple of snickers. Looking around, you saw the two girls known throughout the company for gossiping and crushing on the seven bosses, instead of doing the work they were given. You often wondered why they were still working when they never even submitted their work on time and always lacked behind. The only thing they were great in was spreading rumours.

As soon as they saw you looking their way, they looked away and tried to hide their laughing faces unsuccessfully. You just closed your car door and made your way towards them. Thinking you were coming for them, they moved to the side and nervously pretended that they were laughing at something they had been talking about. But all you did was enter the building, hurrying up a little when you checked your wrist watch and saw that the meeting was starting in half an hour.

You didn't care what they thought about you; you were going to do what you wanted to.

You dropped all your stuff on your desk, and took all the things required for the meeting to the conference room. Inside, you found seven men sitting there doing nothing. One had his head on the desk, sighing every now and then, clearly indicating he was bored. Three of them were talking about something you couldn't hear about.

One of them was being productive and was going through files, while the another was just sitting there staring into nothing. The last one was busy on his phone, and donned a set of headphones, looking out of place in the room.

They were your seven bosses, and none of their antics surprised you at all. Seokjin was the one chatting with Jimin and Hoseok. Namjoon was the responsible one going through the meeting files. Taehyung was the one getting bored. Yoongi was the one with the headphones, and Jungkook was the one staring into space. (Inspired by Jungshook.)

You cleared your throat, and everyone but Yoongi looked at you. Satisfied, you walked towards Namjoon and handed him the file. And nodded his head as a thank you and went back to proofreading the documents. When they saw that it was just you, they went back to doing what they were before. You made your way towards the cabinet and took out some other files. Sitting between Namjoon and Jungkook, you started doing your work.

*****

You plopped down on your very comfortable chair in front of your desk. That meeting was exhausting. At least the deal was finalised. You just laid there for a bit, closing your eyes. You would have definitely fallen asleep if someone didn't poke your stomach suddenly. You opened an eye and looked up in search for the culprit, fully knowing who was it.

As soon as you're eyes fell on her, she gave you a cheeky grin. "Hey, y/n!" She innocently cooed and fluttered her eyelashes. She was such a girl. A lot of times both of you wondered how you both were friends despite being polar opposites, but as they say opposites attract. This was just not that kind of attraction. You narrowed your eyes at her playfully. "F/n, you bitch!" You got up suddenly, taking her by surprise, and started poking her stomach. She squirmed and laughed, trying to get away from you. Thankfully, both of you had the brain enough to not be loud.

After finally calming down, you both sat down, her on your chair, and you on your desk. "How was the meeting?"

"Great. The deal's finalised. The idiots are happy. Which means that we may get to go home early today. You can thank me later." She squealed and hugged you. You smiled and returned the gestured. Then you both heard another one of your colleagues calling her. Giving you a small wave, she went towards him, asking about what happened. You tuned out and decided that you finally had energy enough to start working.

You switched on your PC, logging in. Just as you started typing, a voice was heard behind you. "Miss y/n." You could recognise that voice anywhere. You got up and turned around, mentally grumbling that you hadn't gotten even a little bit of work done the whole day. "Mr. Kim," you saw Seokjin. And then Namjoon came, "and Kim," you furrowed your eyebrows as Taehyung followed Namjoon and came in your line of vision, "and Kim?" You said the last Kim like you were asking a question.

All the three men looked amused and you raised an eyebrow. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, just wanted you to invite to a thank you lunch. Again." Namjoon seated himself on the edge of your desk, as Taehyung leaned against Seokjin. "And you needed to come here yourself to tell me that? And you brought not one more person, but two. Mind tellin' me what's actually going on?"

Taehyung and Namjoon smiled bashfully. "We were getting too happy and too bored." Taehyung explained. You raised an eyebrow, mentally noting you have been doing that a little too many times. "So what do you want me to do? Entertain you?" You leaned against the other end of your desk, opposite Namjoon. Seokjin sat down. "Yes."

"Shut up!" You laughed, the three men joining in. "Anyway, if there's a lunch, you have to— "

"Invite f/n too. We know. She's been told already. Chill." Seokjin interrupted you.

The four of you spent your entire afternoon until lunch break sitting there chatting about everything and anything. You saw some girls shoot you looks of jealously and hatred. But you only ignored them, not wanting to get into silly fights for no reason; it's not like you were crushing on either of the CEOs. And if you started using your mouth at those girls, they wouldn't stand a chance.

At last, the lunch break came, and all of you went to a nearby restaurant, well-liked in the area. Most of your colleagues often found themselves there, including you. You and f/n both noticed those two girls following you all, trying to be discreet but failing miserably. They were the ones laughing at you in the morning and the ones who were giving you glares just minutes ago.

F/n rolled her eyes in your direction, and you gave her a look which said 'what did you expect from them?' Reaching inside the big building, a mouth watering aroma hit you immediately, making your eyes go wide. You had been visiting this restaurant since you started your job three years ago, and yet, the food always had this effect on you. You looked at the seven men giving each other big smiles, hardly able to wait for the food. And none of you were even seated yet.

*****

You and f/n were both staring outside at the big beautiful trees and the shrubs decorating the bottom. Flowers were everywhere and they made you smile. Both of you had nothing to talk about right now and both of you were sick of the two girls being fake-asses and sticking to the boys like leeches. It was amusing to see the uncomfortable glances they sent each other and you at first, asking for help, but it got tiring when the girls just couldn't get a hint and leave you all alone in peace.

They had followed you and given a very stupid excuse to join your fun, naming our peaceful lunch as a company party and saying that they deserved to be one of the people having fun because they contributed so much to get the deal. Being the kind people the guys were, they allowed them to join, despite knowing that they didn't do any work. They weren't even given any work related to the deal in the first place.

"Oh, really?! That's great!" You heard a nasally voice pierce your peace of mind. F/n gave you a deadpan look and rolled her eyes, regretting coming here. You made a face and nodded back  at her, telling her you understood. The guys were not just your seniors, they were also good friends with both of you, and you were hoping to have a good time with your favourite people and favourite food.

Instead, all you got was a headache. And they guys wouldn't even let either of you leave, as you were sitting facing each other near the window. You saw them give one of the girls a stare. She was the one who said that whatever they were talking about was great. You raised an eyebrow at Jungkook, who was sitting right next to f/n.

"They've been giving positive reactions to everything we say. The last to last deal being cancelled is not great." He whispered, not even trying to be subtle. He wanted them gone and you knew it.

And then it finally happened. The other girl turned to you. "Y/n! Why have you been so quiet? And I can just tell by what you're wearing that you don't have a sense of fashion," she gave a stale glance to f/n, who was still lost in her own world, and continued, "You should come hang out with us, we'll give you fashion advice and help you do your make and hair every morning. It's time you let go of your trousers babe."

You had made a face of distaste as soon as she had started speaking. "I would rather be like this than hang out with people like you who laugh at others enjoying the serenity of nature and stick to their bosses like glue. At least I have some dignity." Your reply was very blunt and straightforward.

Both the girls became very flustered at your reply. You hadn't realised but when that girl was speaking f/n had suddenly directed her attention at her, and had listened to your whole answer. You heard her very obnoxious laugh when you stopped speaking, and that made you smirk. You could see the seven men trying to hold in their laughter, trying not to be rude.

"Seriously, it's lunch time, from angle does this look like a company party to you? None of the work concerning the deal was given to either of you, because the whole building knows what would have happened if you were allowed to even help a little bit. And about that," you pointed an accusing finger to her tightening her hold on Jimin's arm, "do you even know Chim's birthday? His favourite colour? Even his fucking personality?! Fuck, you don't even know why his nickname is Chim in the first place.

"I will never ever be hanging out with you. Give one more look to f/n and I'll have your throats. I'm not going to convert into some bitch like you. I sometimes wonder if you even use a bra with the amount of times you've opened your shirt buttons to show off your cleavage. Learn to get a hint, both of you. That, and get out of our faces." All this time, you never even raised your voice, but somehow attracted the attention of most of your peers around you anyway.

Both of them had been getting more and more nervous by the second hearing what you were saying. You opened your wallet and took out money enough to pay for everything you all had ordered. Slamming the notes down on the table, you attempted to get out, and this time, the guys let you. F/n followed suit, and you saw her give a proud smile in your direction. The girl holding Jimin's arm let go on her own, but Yoongi had to snatch his arm from her hold. The guys walked behind you too.

You were in full mood to have a stern talk with them. F/n knew what you were thinking and went to do her own work. You went straight to the boys' office, and they could do nothing but follow you. You seated yourself on the table, taking off your shoes, opening the collar button, and hitching up your pants a little. When they all came in and closed the door, you were comfortably seated on top of the big table with crossed legs.

"Before I start talking, what's wrong Hobi? The last I heard you talk was during the meeting." He had been looking worse for wear since after the meeting, and you had thought about asking him during lunch. "This idiot didn't sleep last night, and now he's exhausted." Seokjin hit the back of his head. "C'mon guys, there's not one CEO running this big ass company, there's seven of you. You need to start taking care of yourselves."

Hoseok rubbed his face and came towards you. Keeping his forehead on your shoulder, he sighed. You rubbed his hair. "I thought I'd regain my energy during lunch by having fun with you all, but now I have a headache because of those girls. I didn't even know they were working for us."

"Me too!" You whined and kept your head on his shoulder. You heard all of them chuckle.

"Well, I guess it's going home early for both of you." Hoseok slightly raised his head. You let yourself fall behind, knowing someone will catch you. "I love you, Joon!"

"Stop being over dramatic and get out." The person who was holding you said. You opened your eyes and found an upside down Taehyung. You gave him an award-winning smile. "Fire those idiots. They've been trying to mess up with me since the day I started." Suddenly, there was blanket of quiet around the room. You got up saw them all frowning. "Why didn't you tell us?" Jimin was the one to speak up.

"Uh...because I'm a grown woman and can handle them myself?" You gave him a 'are you dumb?' expression. Being the same age came with privileges. "I mean, I'm asking you to fire them for their safety. If I see them even look in my direction one more time, I swear to god, I will break all the 206 bones in their body, exchange the places of their lungs and intestines, and dispose them off into the next century!"

They all were looking at you with wide eyes. "I really really think you need sleep. That headache is messing with your brain." Seokjin gently pushed you off the table and guided you and Hoseok to the door. "Call me when you reach home, both of you."

You both nodded and went to your desk. Finding f/n there, you quickly explained the whole situation to her while collecting your stuff. She bid you both goodbye and went to do her work.

You dropped off Hoseok to his house and firmly told him to go to sleep, even making him promise to you. Half an hour later, you found yourself snuggling a pillow in your bed, already half asleep.

*****

It was your third day off. You had unexpectedly gotten sick, not that you cared. You still went to office the next day, but when Jungkook saw you drinking glucose instead of water the whole day, he dragged you to their office. When you told them that you had had a fever the whole day, they had guilt tripped you into taking some leaves.

You were in your kitchen, drinking a glass of water. The fever was still there, and that's why you didn't go to work. You were hating this; even in school, you had barely ever taken a day off if you got ill. Then the doorbell rang. Wondering who could it be, you opened it, only to find a big basket filled with your favourite foods. It had a cute little card attached to the handle, and you read it.

Get well soon!

- Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook

You chuckled when you saw that all of them had signed their full names on the small card. You also found quick-to-make noodle soup in the basket.

You called Yoongi. Knowing he had the phone on speaker, you closed the door and said very loudly, "Thanks guys! I love you, you idiots!" Making a 'muah' sound, you hung up.

[crystalgirl259]

Life of a High School Vampire One-Shots 6 One Night Stand

WARNING! This chapter will include alcohol use and implied sexual content. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

**************** Summary: After a high school drinking session, Kai is trying to slip out on his one-night stand when his date wakes up needy, but he quickly gets clarification on what real neediness looks like... ****************

Kai groaned in pain as the morning sun peaked through the curtains and into his closed eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep when his ears and brain were filled with the loud, annoying sounds of dozens of birds chirping loudly. His head was still banging from last night, it felt like someone was using his head like a drum and using ice picks from the drumsticks. He could hardly remember anything about last night. The last thing he could remember was Lloyd dragging him and a reluctant Jay out for the night.

All the schools in the city were gathering together for tournaments and some of the older ones were going out drinking, something Lloyd all but bullied his teammates into.

After that everything was a blank. Groaning, Kai sat up in his bed and he rubbed his sore head and tired eyes. He was never drinking alcohol again. As he opened his eyes, however, he made a disturbing discovery. This wasn't his dorm room. Looking around, he nearly screamed when he saw a strange man fast asleep in the same bed. The man had dark skin with shaggy, raven hair, bushy eyebrows and was snoring loudly. He was so muscular, that Kai thought he was in one of the sports teams that showed up last night.

That is until he saw a sweater from the uniform for the boarding school known as Marty Oppenheimer School of Performing Arts.

Kai didn't care about that, however, as he quickly backed off the bed, falling to the floor with a heavy thud and taking the covers with him. It was then he saw that they were both completely naked, with their clothes scattered around the room. Kai also took note that everything below his waist was aching, but he hoped that that was just from him falling off the bed. Unfortunately, he wasn't stupid. He wasn't a virgin and had been with both men and women, so he knew what that pain was.

As he got to his feet, Kai looked around the room and found a student lanyard with a badge.

On the badge was a picture of the man, showing his soft green eyes and his name; Cole Brookstone. That was when everything came rushing back to Kai. He remembered going to the bar with Lloyd, Jay, and dozens of other students from other schools. He remembered meeting Cole when he left on his own and they started talking. He remembered Cole confessing all his problems at home, school, and with his widowed father to the young vampire as they both got drunker and drunker.

Thankfully, Kai wasn't drunk enough to tell Cole he was a vampire.

The brunette looked the human over again and blushed when he fully took in Cole's body and sized. When his eyes reached Cole's feet, he burst out laughing when he saw it. However, the sound caused Cole to groan and Kai panicked. His instincts suddenly kicked in, telling him to either bite the sleeping man before he woke up and alerted other humans, or hide and escape before he got discovered. Kai quickly dove under the bed, trying not to gag at the hills of dirty laundry and take-out boxes, and waited.

Luckily Cole didn't wake up and soon started snoring again.

Not that the human would probably believe him anyway. Once he was sure his one-night stand was still asleep, Kai carefully crawled out from under the messy bed and started getting dressed. As he collected his clothes from around the room, he found large dumbells, many types of vinyl of soft rock, and dozens of CDs scattered around a large boom box. He also found a few framed pictures of Cole with what Kai assumed to be his friends and father.

He wouldn't be shocked if Cole turned out to be sarcastic and possessed a strong passion for music and exercise.

What shocked the vampire was a picture that showed Cole outside a concert hall with Jay, his and Lloyd's roommate. Kai wondered if should ask Jay about this strange conscious, but he decided not to. It wasn't like he was ever going to see this Cole person after he left. Just as he grabbed his bag, Cole groaned again and started waking up. Kai considered making a break for it but thought against it. He was curious to see how much this Cole remembered and what he thought about Kai.

After a few minutes of waiting, Cole's eyes slowly blinked open, only to cry out and jump when he saw Kai standing in the doorway in all his Gothic glory.

It took a few seconds for the human to fully wake up and calm down, and Kai could hear his racing heart return to a normal pace.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were a ghost or something." Cole gulped as he stifled a yawn and sat up. It was clear to Kai now that Cole did indeed remember what happened between them last night, and that just made this more awkward to the vampire.

"You're sweet." He replied before adjusting his bag and turned to leave.

"Wait! You're taking off already?!" Cole shouted after him in confusion and hurt, causing Kai to stop and turn back to him.

"I didn't want to rouse you, you were resting in peace." He shrugged, figuring that if Cole wanted him to stay then he would creep the human out so much he would run for the hills, just like all the others.

"Yeah, sorry if those birds woke you up, they're like the worst." Cole chuckled lightly and glanced out the opened window as the birds continued to chirp. How anyone could sleep through that was beyond Kai. An awkward silence filled the bedroom until Cole cleared his throat. "Well, before you go, do you think I could get your, uh, get your number?" he asked with a nervous blush, catching Kai off guard.

"Why do you want my phone number?" He asked. Humans always either avoided him or mocked him, not ask for his phone number. The only ones who spoke to him on a near-daily basis were Jay and Lloyd, but that only because they shared a dorm room together.

"I don't know, so I could call you or something?" Cole replied in confusion.

"I don't really use a cell phone." Kai shrugged, not lying. When they found out he didn't have a phone, Lloyd got him one and had already put his and Jay's numbers in it, without the ginger teen's permission, saying that a phone was a necessity in a teenager's life. But Kai didn't believe that so he often left his phone at the dorm, just like he did last night.

"Cool, yeah, I don't want to be a prisoner to technology either... so that's awesome, I guess." Cole chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but it just made things more awkward. "So I take it that you're not online either?"

"No," Kai replied harshly. The thing he hated more than humans were their dependence on social media. There were too many disadvantages of social networking. It caused a lack of emotional connection, gave humans a license to be hurtful, decreased face-to-face communication skills, conveyed inauthentic expression of feelings, diminished understanding and thoughtfulness, and caused face-to-face interactions to feel disconnected. This response just made Cole even more uncomfortable, which is what Kai wanted.

"Oookay, um, so how can I get in contact with you?" The noirette asked.

"I have an email address; inmemoryofKaiSmith ." He replied, trying to hide a smirk as Cole process that.

"That makes it sound like you're dead." He laughed.

"I like to plan ahead." Kai shrugged, but to his annoyance, this only seemed to make Cole more eager.

"Alright, so I'll email you then." He smiled at the brunette.

"Do you really wanna see me again?" Kai asked, feeling an uncomfortable mixture of anger, frustration, and confusion as Cole's insistence.

"Yeah, Kai, of course! I mean, I like you." He admitted with a blush, and Kai was horrified when he felt his own cheeks heat up with his own blush. "You're not like other guys I've seen in Ninjago."

"That's accurate." He smiled weakly, but he still didn't like the fact this human wouldn't take a hint.

"D-Do you like me?" Cole suddenly asked, soundly slightly worried but hopeful, but Kai saw this as another chance to get rid of the teen.

"You're alive, aren't you?"

"Yes?"

"You're welcome," Kai smirked as Cole paled slightly. He could tell this human was different from all the others he had met and it might be fun to see him again. "I'll find you when I'm ready to see you." He added as he grabbed his bag again and made to leave once more.

"B-But you don't have any of my contact information!" Cole exclaimed.

"Don't worry, you won't be hard to track down."

"Let me at least walk you out." Cole offered as sat up some more to get up.

"I appreciate the gesture, but your chains don't reach that far." Kai grinned mischievously and started walking again. Cole frowned in confusion and he made to get up, only to freeze when he felt something on both his ankles. He ripped the covers away and gasped when he saw a pair of thick, metal shackles on them and chains connected to them to the bed. Cole looked up again to ask Kai what was going on, but the brunette was long gone.

Before Cole could think of what to do next, a bone-chilling banshee-like shriek filled the air outside the bedroom window, followed by the birds going crazy and a sickening crunch.

All was silent after that. There were no birds, no people, or cars driving past for a few seconds before they returned. All except the birds annoying chirping. He just shrugged it off as a cat or two attacking and scaring the birds away. Cole sat in his bed for a few minutes as shock, fear, and excitement filled him. He couldn't explain it, but something about Kai thrilled him and he couldn't wait to see the brunette again. If he ever got out of these chains, however.

With a heavy sigh, Cole grabbed his phone off the bedside table and called a locks smith.

This was going to be hard to explain...

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Emp-Ire, “The Oracle.”

I had very little time to write today, but I have had people request the story behind this one, so I thought I could open it quickly today before I get swamped.

Again forgive me. I had to write very quickly. I hope you have a good day!”

The world shone like a beautiful marble beneath them, vast stretches of blue water under swirling clouds of white. The landmasses were mostly green like on earth, though there was more orange present here than there would have been on the human homeworld. 

There was not one singular landmass, or even a few large ones, but thousands of little islands clustered together like shards of broken glass scattered across the floor after one drops a plate. 

Ramirez looked out the window his hands and face pressed to the glass as they descended downwards towards the blue glittering surface.

“Remind me what the theme of this planet is.”

“Planets don’t have themes Ramirez.” Adam Said, crossing one ankle over his other knee.

“Ok yeah yeah, but I mean, what microculture do they have.”

Adam shrugged, “Some kind of Greek-Roman thing going on.”

Ramirez grinned, “Excellent?”

Adam’s brows furrowed together suspiciously, “Why?”

“You know how the Romans and the Greeks were….” Adam blinked, “No?”

Ramirez raised an eyebrow, “I don’t have to give you a lecture on WHY olive oil was so popular during Roman times, do I?”

Adam stared at him for a long moment before it finally clicked, “Oh… oh…..ew.”

“What? Got a problem with that?“

“I definitely did not want that image of you in my head thanks.”

He grinned, “That means you were thinking about it.”

“You were holding me as an intellectual hostage, and I do not negotiate with terrorists.” Ramirez laughed as they lowered through the clouds .

“What is their major export?”

“I thought it was Textiles, some kind of silk though I forget what kind. I think they also quarry certain kinds of stone, but I could be wrong about that too. All I know is they have extreme restrictions on what kinds of equipment can and cannot be used planetside, so they have to keep everything…. Not medieval per se, but no emissions,and extreme infrastructure is a no go.

“Alright cool, where are we landing.”

“I think they are calling it New Athens or something.”

Ramirez leaned back in his seat, “Do you think these people actually believe all this stuff or is it just like elaborate roleplay?”

‘I think that even if it is elaborate roleplay, it won’t be for long. Soon enough people born here are going to believe it.”

The struts on the landing gear cracked and popped as they settled into place. Outside the window the landscape was mediteranian, with rocky hillsides and low lying bushes interspersed with the occasional tree-like structure. Long grass of some kind poked up from the soil, orange in the daylight which had a strange yellow cast.

They stepped out of the shuttle and onto the platform where some enterprising person headset up a vending booth for proper period clothing. The man seemed a bit miffed as the two of them passed by and into the nearby changing stalls, having already been equipped by Adam’s mother.

Adam stepped out a moment later to find Ramirez fiddling with his sandals, and Adam became aware of a slight breeze on the wind as it tugged at the tunic he wore.

As someone who had worn almost every type of clothing under the sun, he had to admit that he was familiar with the sensation of having a breeze, though that didn’t mean he was entirely used to it. 

They turned and walked down the nearby pathway sandals flopping on the ground as they made their way over the next little rise to look down on the still-being-constructed New Athens.

“Holy Shit.” Ramirez said quietly 

Adam blinked, craning his neck back to look at the massive statue rising itself into the air. A statue of what must have been Athena.

“And look, no crane.”

“No shit, and those buildings over there, I think they already finished that one.”

The two of them stopped gawking long enough to make their way down the path and onto the well kept paving stones of the city. They must have entered a market district as men and women called to them from booths on either side of the walkway. Large crowd filtered in and out, and just a few blocks away from here he could see holding pens where they were keeping specific earth animals, like goats and pigs. Strange exotic birds hung in cages, though none of them were earth birds.

Clearly they must ahvebeen native.

In a near daze they made their way up through the city and towards the marble temple erected on a hill at the center of the city. Trees shedding petals like delicate blue blossoms fell onto the street making the scene all together familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Ramirez craned his neck up to look at the still-rising statue as they passed by stepping up the marble steps and under the massive pillars that held up the artfully crafted roof of the structure.

“Wow.”

Little fountains, reflections pools and an elaborate guardian had been built up around the marble structure, and in this palace people had congregated. A couple of men were arguing, what do Adam sounded like the finer points of philosophy, while a man serenaded a crowd of onlookers with a strange and unfamiliar instrument. Humans weren’t the only ones here of course, a couple of Tesraki could be seen lurking around the stalls, and selling their wares though the population was predominantly human.

“I like their idea of exterior decorating.”

He turned to see what Ramirez was talking about, and was greeted by a very fit, very nude, marble statue of some unknown young athlete or demigod..

“Of course YOU would think that.”

Ramirez frowned deeply, “I was merely commenting on the artistic style in which they have rendered the image from stone. The detail and the dedication that it must have taken to-”

“You’re talking about his abs.”

“Yeah, I am talking about his abs, but not JUST his abs. He’s got nice calves too.”

“Calves?”

“I am a sucker for nice calves, you see that’s why you and I would never work, because you only have one real one.”

Adam snorted and looked down at his legs, which were he admitted a bit out of place in the world of knee length tunics. You could almost assume they had walked right into the past and then, boom. Advanced prosthetic leg.

“So what are we going to do while we are here?” Ramirez wondered.

“Not entirely sure yet. Sightseeing, obviously, maybe just hang out on one of the many white sand beaches, we can do whatever we want. Who knows, maybe you could go visit the oracle and ask her why the gods cursed you with such a thick skull.”

“I was thinking about asking which one of the gods is my parent since clearly I am a Demigod.”

“You seek the oracle!”

The two of them nearly jumped out of their skin turning around to find a very tall, very beautiful woman standing behind them with an entourage of admirers following behind her. She stepped forward, making it very uncomfortably close to the two of them.

“Well hello aphrodite.” Ramirez muttered

She smiled at him, “Sweet words can get you far in a place like this.” She traced her hand over his shoulders as she walked around him head tilted.

“Well there is more where that came from I assure you.” Craning his neck to see her more clearly.

She smiled, “I am Althaia devine assistant to the oracle.” She turned to look up at Adam, “And you, do you seek the oracle as well.”

She traced her fingertips down his arm, and seemed rather miffed when he didn’t react other than to pull away slightly, “How much?’

She frowned again, “What do you mean.”

Adam smiled stiffly, “I mean how much do we have to pay to see the oracle.”

Althaia Huffed, “Ten Credits.”

Adam laughed, and Ramirez frowned at him.

Althaia turned to walk away but Adam waved a hand, “Hold on, hold on. I asked how much I never said we weren’t interested.”

She trend to look at them with one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows raised, “Come with me then.”

The two of them fell into step beside her, Ramirez looking like one of her devoted admirers.

She turned to look at him, eyes narrowing slightly, “You seem familiar. What do you do for a living?”

“Just a soldier, both of us just soldiers.”

“And are you seeking…. A quest perhaps.”

He wondered what kind of touristy quest she was talking about. Probably some kind of scavenger hunt that would ring them to the edge of the city where they would find a golden fleece draped over a tree.

“Not sure yet,”

She led them up the temple steps and stopped outside two large double doors. A pair of guards, golden breastplates and blue accent feathers stood before the door. Their shields held to their chests, their spears at the ready crossing them as the strangers approached.

She turned to look at Adam and held out her arm. He smiled as he exchanged twenty credits with her. 

Althaia waved a hand and the two guards uncrossed their spears and stepped aside. The doors creaked inward and Adam and Ramirez were hit in the face by a waft of incense which floated heavily on the wind and into their faces.

“Go, go and speak with the oracle.” She said nudging them forward.

Ramirez sniffed at the air as the doors closed behind them.

He frowned, “Hold on a minute.”

Adam looked at him, “What?”

“This is not JUST incense.”

“Pretty sure that's how it used to work.”

The two of them stepped forward over the marble floor passing more and more marble statues as they walked towards the end, where a group of guards…. With suspiciously bloodshot eyes… stood before an alter, where sat another beautiful woman wearing a light fabric shift, long black hair cascading over her shoulders.

“You have come seeking the oracle?” She said her eyes distant.

He was pretty sure that’s just because she was high.

“Yes?

She looked at them eyes seeming to stare into and THROUGH them, “Two soldiers…. Two soldiers on a quest.”

She must have known who Adam was otherwise that prediction might have been pretty impressive. Either that or Althaia had an earpiece in and was feeding her information about the people coming to see her.”

“Son of Aphrodite, Son of Athena….”

Adam just smiled.

Ramirez elbowed him in the ribs, “hear that, she thinks I’m sexy.”

“Yeah and she thinks “I’ am the smart one, so Don’t get too excited.”

She eyed them shrewdly, and something in her expression made Adam feel strange. It was as if she was contemplating something very very deeply. As they watched, she tapped her fingers against the stone.

��Take a ship, tell them to drop you on the border of Laconia, and then head inland. You will find your quest there.”

Adam smiled, “Thank you, Oracle.”

She waved them away dismissively, and the two of them stepped outside Adam breathing a sigh of relief as they stepped out of the smoke and into fresh air. 

He coughed, “So, what do you think this quest is going to be.”

“I don’t know, maybe we will meet a sexy snake lady.” He elbowed Adam, “We already have a cyclops.”

“Oh shut the hell up.” Adam grumbled as they made their way down towards and towards the docks.

The ships were simple wooden constructions with large sails and lines of chairs below deck for rowing. It was almost a surreal feeling as they boarded and set off on the crashing waves. There was no salt in the air which made Adam think that this was fresh water, which was pretty convenient for the people that lived there. Once they told the captain of the ship where they were going, he gave them a strange look, but took their credits and ordered his men to sail.

Adam was getting mildly suspicious by the time it all started, but decided to go along and see where this would bring them.

On all sides small islands passed by, and on those small islands he could see cities being erected, Vineyards being tended, and the occasional strange and mysterious looking animal disappearing back into the plant life.

“Laconia.” he rolled the word around in his mouth, “Does that sound familiar to you?”

“No, why would it. Here is my thought. We show up, walk to the middle of the island and find a golden sheep or something. I don’t know maybe we meet a guy dressed up like a minotaur and have to wrestle him for it or some shit. Either way, should be fun, and then we can spend the rest of the time lazing around on the beach sunning ourselves.”

Adam nodded but wasn’t sure whether to believe Ramirez as the boat made its slow way down the straights, past other vessels which sailed with blue trimmed sails. It took them almost half a day to reach this, Laconia, which Adam still argued sounded familiar, and disembarked on the sandy shore.

The captain didn’t give them any direction, but ordered his men out once more.

Adam hd expected there to be some kind of pathway or maybe a sign marking where they were supposed to go, but there was nothing, and so he shrugged and motioned Ramirez to follow him as he made his way up the center of the island.

They were walking for a while. This island was a bit larger and so had an expanse of grassland and mountainous terrain interspersed with the occasional tree.

“I have no idea where I am going.” Adam muttered under his breath as they came up around a rock incline.

He nearly leapd out of his skin as a loud battle cry rose up from the stone and a group of what must have been five men descended on them from the rocks spears raised. Not thinking Adam ducked under the trust of one man and shouldered him in the chest. Throwing him back as he snapped upwards to grab the spear.

He wrenched it form the man’s hand as she shoulder him painfully to the ground.

He spun around in a circle, clashing spears with a second man who had come in from the left.

Off to his right Ramirez had been caught off guard and been plowed to the ground by one man holding an absolutely massive circular shield.

His spear was knocked aside in that moment of hesitation and a leaf blade appeared at his throat.

He looked up to see an absolutely massive man standing over him red cloak billowing in the wind, golden helmet with its red plume glittering in the sun. The man was so ripped with glistening muscle that he made the statues outside New Athens look practically puny.

He looked down where one of his men was slowly hauling himself to his feet, another muscle bound brute who looked almost embarrassed.

“Who are you!”

The man demanded.

Adam raised his hands, “I could ask you the same question.”

“I’m not the one with a spear to my throat.”

“Adam, and that one is Angel.”

“What business do you have on our island. Spies for the Athenians.” he snarled, and his acting was so good for a moment Adam almost believed him.

“Uh no…. No, they sent us here but, I don’t work for them.”

The men muttered angrily. Five hulking shapes, five men who clearly made a living of hitting the gym.

“Tan they sent you here to die.”

Adam frowned.

The spear pulled back.

And then a hand stopped him, “Wait…. The king should decide.”

There was a pause, “I suppose you are right.”

“King, king of what?”

The two men turned to look at him, deep frowns on their faces.

“The king of Sparta.”

[moonflower-31]

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist 

Part 4  

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Gun violence, child death, suicide, suffocation, cliffhanger

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess 

~~~~~~~~~ 

"Are you sure about this, (L/N)?" 

"Positive. It's all in the details. We needed to narrow down the suspects, and considering how this woman didn't just shoot these men, and the drugs aren't cheap, I had to make the connection." You insist, placing the map in front of Hotch and putting a finger on the highlighted neighborhood. Garcia had printed it out for you quickly so you could show Hotch and hopefully catch this bitch. 

"It matches the profile in that our unsub is still a medical worker, just in a place where schooling isn't required. Such as a long-term care facility or an urgent care." Spencer cut in, backing up your statement. 

Hotch sighed and looked from you to Spencer. "Alright, have Garcia run the profile by the urgent care near the neighborhood. See if it matches any of their employees. If we get any matches, we'll send out a few people to scout her house." He says, turning around and leaving the room as soon as he had walked in. 

Pretty soon afterwards, you were alone with Spencer again. Not that you didn't  to be.  

"That was good work." He spoke up, gathering the map and papers up from the table. "You wanna call Garcia or should I?" He adds after a moment. 

You keep your head down, afraid that if you look him in the eye he'd be able to see all of the covert thoughts you had about him. Even through the seriousness of this case, your mind wandered back to what had occured just days before. You were still unsure as to what he had meant by any of it. No matter how hard you tried to play it off as just an accidental touch, your heart wouldn't let you. 

You nervously pull a strand of loose hair behind your ear and chuckle to distract Spencer from your lack of looking him in the eye. "I-I can do it. Thanks for the coffee, by the way."

You might've been looking down, but you still caught the wide smile that Spencer flashed towards you. "Of course. You'll sleep when we get home though." He insists, playfully pointing at you. 

"I dunno, I might just live off coffee like my favorite Doctor." You tease, picking up your now cold coffee cup and taking a sip. 

You heard a few footsteps, but no reply. Which confused you. Until you turned your head and finally met Spencer’s eyes that stared intently into yours. 

"Oh, so I'm your favorite now? If I'm your favorite, you should listen to me." He says softly, standing so closely to you and giving you the most intense look with his brown, hazel eyes. You couldn't look into them, no matter how much you wanted to. 

It took you longer than expected to finally respond, but when you did you felt like a flopping fish out of water. "B-but w-what if I don't want to? What if… I prefer coffee to sleep?" He had you in his hands almost like putty. And you knew he could mold you any way he wanted. You just hoped he didn't know that. 

"You sure about that? Did you know that if a strong enough emotion is felt, your voice betrays you if you try to deny it?" You can feel your inner resolve crumbling. And he wasn't even doing anything! He was probably just trying to get you to take care of yourself. Which you should. But you just had to be a brat about it. "It's actually really interesting, we usually go for the facial expression one gives off, but most people can learn to fake an emotion through their face. But the voice…"

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest by now. You could feel his breathing against your neck. He was so damn close! And you had nowhere to run because of his damn legs. He'd catch you in an instant. You gulped and looked him back in the eyes. What were you doing? 

"The voice can't really be trained to not give away how a person feels. Especially when it's strong enough. Now tell me, when did you get the confidence in the last three minutes and 43 seconds to look me in the eye again?" He finally backed away, raising an eyebrow at you as you finally straightened your posture and tried to compose yourself. 

You stayed quiet however, unsure of whatever could be appropriate to respond with to that tone of voice. What was he doing? You wanted so bad to lean forward, take his soft, thick lips in yours and push him against the stale countertops inside the police station. 

"I-I… I gotta c-call Garcia. I'll let you know if we get any matches." You almost feel like kicking yourself as you back away from him and practically flee the room. This was getting to be too much. Were you reading too much into your and his interactions? Or was this really something that he wanted to try? 

You couldn't trust your own feelings anymore. So you did the next best thing: you called Garcia. You hoped that maybe you could chat a little more after you gave Garcia the addresses and the urgent care to go through. You had to talk to somebody and she was the only person that you had gotten the feeling that she wouldn't tease you for how you felt. 

"Hello my lovely! Decided to call me finally? What can I do for you my fine furry friend?" Garcia asks cheerfully. You couldn't help but smile at how happily she greeted you. And she had only just met you. 

"Yeah, sorry Penelope

Everyone else has been calling you for me. So now it's my turn." You tease. "Anyway, I thought maybe we were looking at the income of our unsub the wrong way." 

"Ooh, thinking outside the box, I likey. Whatcha got, Darling?" 

"The neighborhood I had you highlight, I want you to cross reference the residents with the people who work at the urgent care nearby. If any fit, run the profile by their employer. I think we may be able to catch this woman after all." 

"Oh I love the way you think. I'll get on that at godspeed my queen. Garcia out-" 

"Wait-!" You interject, sighing gently. 

"Oh? Can I help you with something else, your gorgeous highness?" Garcia asked, and you could hear the eyebrow wiggle. Guess that's what you got from hanging out with Gabriel too much. 

"Okay, uh, I gotta tell somebody about this before my mouth explodes all my secrets. You think you can keep it?" You ask nervously. You wanted to trust this woman so badly. You needed a girlfriend who didn't put you down for dating any guys. Or liking any for that matter, like Iris.

"Oh, some gossip! I will keep my lips sealed with superglue my lovely! Now tell me all the juicy details!" 

You giggle and look around, being sure no one but Garcia could hear you. "Okay… I don't know what the hell is going on with Reid but… I kinda like him. He's cute, I'll admit it. I used to do some hacking and I found pictures of him. He was my celebrity crush. But make it FBI." You ranted. "And now I'm getting mixed signals from him. Like just a couple days ago, his hand like--brushed against my hip as I went to try and help him with the geographical profile, and he was so damn close!" You hiss into the phone. "A-and today? He got super close again. And he practically had me trapped. But other than that, I don't get any other signs that maybe he might like me. Even if he's just attracted to me. So you can understand my dilemma." You sigh, leaning against the wall. 

Garcia was quiet for a few moments, making you worried that she was going to judge you or put you down for being so stupid. Then you had to pull the phone away from your ear for a few seconds as Garcia squealed. 

"Oh my god I knew it! You two totally hit it off when you came in here for your first day!  I knew there was something there! It's totally okay to feel like that. I don't know what you see in that boy, but go after him like the queen you are." She insists. 

"Heh, I dunno if I'll do anything yet. I want to see if things go anywhere first. Even if he just wants to be friends. I just want to be sure I'm not adding another embarrassing memory that I will never forget. But thanks Garcia."

"Of course my sweetness. That's what I'm here for. Other than being the techie for the FBI." She says sweetly. 

"I gotta go, let me know if there are any matches." You finally lead off. 

"Of course! Wait, hold on," 

"What is it?" 

"You'd think the search would massively decrease the amount of suspects, right? Well all of the suspect-women in this neighborhood, are working at this urgent care. It's like single mom central." Garcia answered, typing away on her computer. 

"That's alright, thanks Garcia. Run that by the employer with the new list of names anyway, see if he'll give any of them up." You say. 

"Will do. Talk soon!" 

You can't help but smile to yourself as she hangs up. She really was untameable. Not that you would want to. 

You turn your head and begin to head down the station hallway as you see Reid race out of the room with the evidence. 

"He-hey! What's going on?" You ask in a mild panic. 

"We have a witness, the unsub tried to kill again." 

○●♡●○

"Any information at all would help, Mr.Greeley." You assure, sitting in front of the man in the chair with his head laid against the table. 

"I want my wife. I want my son." He says in a hiccuped tone. 

"I know, sir. But if you can give us any distinguishing features it can help us narrow down our suspects to find her." You assure again, laying a gentle hand on his. 

"Are they on their way?" He asks, looking at you with sore, red eyes. 

"Yes sir. We've called some of the nearby officers to come bring them. Alright?"

The door to the room opens and you both look up, seeing Prentiss join the two of you. "Everything okay?" She asks. 

"Yeah, he's just shaken up. Who wouldn't be?" You say, sighing. "Darren, would you be up to having a sketch artist come in here? If you don't feel up to sharing what she looked like that's fine." You turn and ask the newest almost-victim. 

"No it… I can give you a few things. She… she had dirty blond hair. It was… messy. Her skin was pale, her fingers were calloused. A-and… her eyes were brown. Oh god her eyes…" he whispered, running a hand through his hair. 

"I'm deeply sorry this happened to you. This information will greatly help the investigation. We will find this woman. Do you still feel okay with the sketch artist coming in?" Emily asked, gesturing towards the door. Silently, the man nodded. You stood up and nodded to Emily, leaving the room to bring the news to everyone else. 

"Did he see her?" Morgan asks, walking up to you from the semi-circle the team had formed near the room you had been talking with the victim. 

"Yeah. Got a good look at her too. Apparently she missed his blood entirely and poured the drugs onto her shirt instead of injecting him with it. So when she pushed him to the ground he got to see her eyes. Garcia's working on faxing us the photos now, see if the sketch will match anything." You nod to him, noticing the fax machine beginning to run. 

Once the photos were faxed, you carried them over to the desk Reid was currently leaning against. You dropped them onto the surface and sighed. "About 23 women, and one description that is super common. How fast do you think we'll get stuck?" You ask him, giving Spencer a teasing look. 

"I doubt we will. Once we narrow these women down to what he saw, we can show them in a line-up fashion. See which one sparks a memory." Reid assures, looking down at the photos and closing the file in his hands. 

"I cannot imagine being this woman and thinking that I should kill these men because they just became fathers. I mean, I can understand her not wanting other women to have to deal with becoming single mothers because their partners decide to skedaddle. But still, give him a chance first." You rant, beginning to sort through the photos by whether or not the suspects fit the description. 

"True. However in her state of mind she probably views all men the same. That they'll all eventually leave her. Maybe her father left too." Spencer suggests, taking a few photos and sorting them with you once he noticed the pattern. 

"That could be true. But I guess we won't know until we get a match-" you sigh. 

Emily hurried out of the interview room and carried a sketch pad with her. "Here," she says, placing the drawing paper in front of you. "Do any of the suspects look like her?" 

You push the unlikely suspects pile of photos away, about to find Emily her answer, when Spencer spoke up for you. 

"Yes, she was one of the first women you sorted." He says, flipping through the pile faster than you ever could and pulling out a photo. "Here, this is her." He says. 

"Let's get this photo back to Garcia, see if she can get us a name." You cut in, standing up and picking up the forgotten pictures. Emily nods to you and heads off to fax the photo back to Garcia. 

○●♡●○

"What do you got, baby girl?" 

"We got a name, Kathy Burgess. She's a single mother, recently gave birth to her son Jason about 7 months ago and--oh my god…" Garcia trails. 

"What is it Garcia?" You ask, hurrying your feet towards the SUV's. She hadn't given you all an address yet, but it wasn't too late not to get ready to head out. 

"Her husband was killed in Afghanistan 3 months ago after being deployed the week before her son was born. He had left them for another woman, who ended up getting pregnant." Garcia answered. 

"Do you have an address Garcia?" Hotch asked. 

"Y-yes, 176 Washington Blvd." 

"Let's go." Hotch announces, pulling out his radio and letting the rest of the team and police know. 

○●♡●○ 

You pulled into the road followed by a SWAT van, unknowing what was going to meet you behind this woman's door. You all piled out of the SUV's and headed towards the building. 

"Is she here? Do we know for sure?" You ask, unholstering your gun and making sure it was loaded. 

"She has to be. She has nowhere else to hide. Neighbors reported her coming home about 30 minutes ago." Hotch answered, beginning to fasten on his bullet proof vest. "I need Morgan and Reid to head in first, try and see if you can get the child out first." 

"Wait, Hotch," you begin. 

"What is it?" 

"Kathy has been killing men because she doesn't trust them. So I don't think she's going to listen to Morgan or Reid. Why don't I go in? Try to negotiate with her. It'll get us more time to find a clear shot of her if she decides to retaliate." You reason. 

"I don't know (L/N). You haven't gotten much experience with negotiating yet." 

"Which is why I should start now. I… I may not know what it's like to have a child and then have the father walk away on me, but I know what it's like to feel abandoned and unwanted." You plead. Reid looks at Hotch hesitantly, turning his attention to you after a moment. 

"She is right, Hotch. She's not gonna get any experience unless we let her." Morgan encourages. 

"Alright. Keep her occupied. Try to negotiate with her. After five minutes, we'll head in after you." 

You nod to Hotch and immediately grab a bullet proof vest, fastening it around your button down shirt you had packed and worn today. It was getting later and later, the sun was about a half hour from setting. You didn't have much time to get her out of there before light was a problem. 

You then headed into the building, easing the burgundy wooden door open as you stalked inside. You aimed your pistol in each direction you looked. This building was a two story. You didn't know the layout, so you had to make it up as you went. 

Once the lower level was cleared, you headed up the stairs, pushing open the door to the master bedroom and the bathroom before you found yourself in front of the only other room upstairs. You sighed and eased the door open. 

Immediately Kathy turned around, clutching a bundle of blankets to her chest while clutching a gun in her other hand. "Don't get any fucking closer! I-i'll shoot him!" She threatened, aiming her gun at the small child in her hands. 

"Ma'am, put the gun down, I just want to talk." You say, holding your hands up. "I'm just going to put my gun away, alright?" You cautiously alert her, putting the gun into your holster again. Pretty soon the gun in Kathy's hand gets trained on you. 

"Leave us alone-I just wanted to save other women from this fate-!" Kathy says shakily, the gun in her hand wavering it's aim. 

"I know, Kathy. What your husband did to you was unfair. But what you did to those women and their husbands is worse. Those men didn't want to leave their children." 

"They would've! All men do it! Harris did! My father! My brother! Every man I've ever known has walked out on me! How would I have known that they wouldn't walk out on them too?!" Kathy screeches, tears building up in her eyes. 

"Kathy, there are plenty of men in the world who would never walk out on a partner or their baby. You can't stereotype them all to be the same. Put the gun down, and I'll get you and your son some help." You assure, taking a step forward. You heard the stairs creaking behind you. You were too late. 

"Who is that?!" Kathy asks, waving the gun towards you more threateningly. 

"Don't worry about them, just focus on me." 

"No! They're all men! All men lie! All men leave! My son's left me too!" She wailed, clutching at the baby in her arms. 

You widen your eyes at her confession, becoming too stunned to listen for Hotch. "Kathy… what did you do?" You ask.

"Kathy Burgess, put the gun down and come with us quietly. We don't want any harm." Hotch called to her. You widen your eyes farther. You had her so close why did they have to come in now- 

"No! All you men do is lie! Lie lie lie!" Kathy ranted, hitting the barrel of the gun against her head. "But I won't let you win again." She says darkly. You begin to jump into action, but it was too late. 

As soon as you took another step, Kathy trained the gun onto herself and shot through her chin, splattering blood against the wall. You race over and catch her falling child before it can hit the ground, slamming your own chest in the process. 

You stand up, holding the child, but feel an absence of warmth. You furrow your brow, a pit of worry in your chest beginning to grow heavier as each of the signs come together. 

You feel a crack form in your heart as you clutch the tiny, blue-faced child in your arms. Tears form in the corners of your eyes. If only you had gotten here sooner. The body was still a bit warm. Meaning she had suffocated him recently. If only you had reached her and convinced her to put him down. 

"(L/N), (L/N) is something wrong with-" you hear Reid begin, causing the hurt in your chest to magnify. You feel your lip tremble as you push past the genius and carry the child down the stairs, never letting go of his tiny body. 

Reid must've taken the hint, as you heard him tell Hotch as you took the stairs to the bottom floor. You had seen your brother in this child. His little curly tuff of hair was something you had only seen in your younger brother. This was too personal. It was like holding a dead version of him in your arms. 

You carried the child out of the house, closing your eyes tightly as the paramedics, who had been called, tried to approach you and take the child. 

"Ma'am, ma'am we have to take him-" the paramedic began to explain, depleting the amount of control you cared to have over your response in an instant. 

"There's no point, she suffocated him at least 5 minutes before I got to her." You answered, snapping just a tad. 

The woman in front of you sighed, directing the rest of her team to head inside. "Ma'am, I'll take it from here." She says, gesturing for you to give her the child. If you were in your normal state of mind, you'd do it no questions asked. But this was different. You held the body even closer to your chest, trying not to cry in front of this woman. 

"(L/N)..." it was Reid. How the hell was he upstairs and then back down to deal with your bullshit? The person you expected to come check on you had been Prentiss. Or JJ of all people. At the sound of Reid's voice, your resolve completely crumbled, and you handed the child to the paramedic. 

"Based on the warmth of the skin and the blueness of the face, he died at least ten minutes before we got here." Spencer started, looking at the back of your head. It was the only way he knew to comfort you in the moment: statistics. 

But that didn't matter to you. 

Spencer sighed, looking at you with sympathy in his eyes. "You… you can cry you know. No one is going to judge you for it." 

That's what broke the dam. You sniffled and turned your body towards his, hugging him tightly almost immediately. You could feel his body stiffen for a moment, almost making you pull back. But then he eased up and laid a hand on your back and one on your head, hoping to comfort you by holding you. He had read that was supposed to be helpful. 

You couldn't help but cry, holding onto him like this. How could your first case go so badly?

○●♡●○ 

By the time you all had arrived home, you were drained of almost everything. You all piled into the bullpen, the eyes of everyone in the room turning to you as they noticed the tired eyes with the darker bags that you wore. 

You sighed and took off your holster, storing it in one of the open drawers of your given desk. You run a tired hand through your hair, looking up at the rest of the team who were equally as tired and bummed out as you were. It was 8 in the morning after all. There had been a delay in getting in the air that had lasted a few hours, making you all late. 

"(L/N), my office, please." Hotch called as soon as everyone was all through and settled into their desks. You exhale tiredly and place your bag down on the desk chair before heading towards Hotch's office.  

You stepped in and closed the glass door behind you. You stood in front of Hotch's desk, nodding to him. "You… wanted to see me sir?" You asked. 

"Yes, (Y/N). Yesterday, you did well on your negotiation. After some reevaluation of the situation I believe you could have gotten Kathy out on your own." Hotch informed, going over the papers. It felt weird for someone to call you by your first name after everyone on the team had been calling you by your last name for the entire case. 

"Thank you, sir." You reply. 

"However, I think the last part of the case got a little too personal for you. I have not looked in your file, but I assume this has something to do with something in that file."

"Actually… Hotch…" you sigh. "I… I saw my brother in that baby. I raised my brother for most of my childhood. And for me to have not reached him in time…" you take a deep breath, avoiding the increasingly obvious sob that wanted to escape your throat. "It was just sensitive for me, sir. I promise, it won't happen again." 

"Since this is your first case, I'll give you a pass. But try to stay focused on the case and not on family matters. Understood?" Hotch clarifies, looking you in the eyes. You can see he's only saying this because he has to. He's flashing you a look of empathy, one you'd been given plenty of times, but never by a man in his authority. 

"Y-yes sir." You reply, the tremor in your voice barely noticeable. 

"Good. Now I expect to see you tomorrow. Go home and try to catch up on some sleep." He dismisses. You nod to him, and shortly thereafter leave his office. 

"Hey." 

You turn your head, brown eyes meeting yours. "Huh? Oh… hey." You reply back, swallowing a sigh as you turn to talk to the genius. 

"Is… uh… is everything alright with Hotch?" He asked. 

"Yeah, he just wanted to let me know how I did and what I could improve on. Nothing much." You reply, forcing your face to stiffen and wipe away the beginnings of tears. But then you remembered what Spencer had said about the voice often betraying the user when the emotion that is felt is strong enough. 

"...Are you alright?" 

You wanted to curse out your own heart for beginning to flutter. Now was not the time to be falling in love with the sexy doctor next to you. 

"I… I think i'll be okay." You say semi-honestly, squeezing your eyes tight. 

"Did you know that it's been proven that talking about one's problems can lead to catharsis, which is a feeling of calmness and relief. Of course… The pain is still there.  But afterwards we have less built up feelings and the hurt hurts just a little less." He informed, putting one hand in his pocket and one on his messenger bag strap. You feel the beginnings of a smile form on your lips, making a small bit of the heaviness in your chest ease up. 

"Is this your formal way of asking me for that coffee?" You tease gently. Spencer chuckled. 

"Maybe…" 

"Consider it a date then." You tease again, a small smile staying on your face. You look up at Spencer, not finding any indication that the idea of it being a date turned him off from the idea. "You wanna get out of here?" 

"Sure. My car or yours?" He asks. 

"Why not walk? Less pollution, and we can talk on the way." You insist. 

"Considering the environment before our own needs. I didn't think that many people were like that anymore." He says, walking with you towards the elevator. 

You giggle softly and press the down arrow. "Guess I'm not like most people." And you could almost swear you heard him reply with a soft 'No you're not.' 

You both step into the elevator once the doors open, letting the doors close after you. Sure, you had left your bag inside, but you wouldn't need it till tomorrow. You had a date with your bed after you hung out with Spencer.  

You both walked towards the exit once the elevator doors opened again, revealing to you the main lobby. 

"So when are you going to reveal to me your favorite coffee order? Or are you going to keep that a secret too?" Spencer teased, walking beside you. 

"Oh come on. I told you all I'd tell you my name soon. I just want to make sure this is where I wanna stay, that's all-" you begin, rolling your eyes with a growing smile on your face that soon plummeted when you saw who was in front of you.  

"(Y/N) (M/N) Grant!" 

Both you and Spencer jumped at the sudden sound, and you turned your head at the sound of your full name. You feel fear invade your heart as you recognize the woman who stood in front of you with shoulder pads and make-up that screamed 'I will squash you like a bug'

"Mother?"

[honestsycrets]

Forgotten Favourite | [ Lagertha x Reader, Ubbe x Reader ABO ]

❛ pairing | ubbe x reader, referenced!lagertha x reader and ragnar x reader and ragnar x lagertha x reader, lagertha x astrid

❛ type | triple shot [SFW this chp]

❛ summary | once upon a time, when things were simple, it wasn’t so difficult to keep Lagertha’s attention. Now that she has Astrid, that’s something else entirely. Maybe Ubbe can help.

❛  tags | ABO, Alpha!Ubbe, Alpha!Lagertha, Omega!Reader, Older Reader, Polygyny, some hallucinations but very minor, angst heavy, much sads reader, but maybe she can get back her voice, dub!con (this chapter has nothing too graphic), chasing, non-canon compliant.

❛ sy’s notes | “Shithead Ubbe” in action.

“Are you well?”

You looked into her eyes, steely and calm, and nodded. Your gaze fell back to the pool of mead between your clean fingertips, chewing on your lower lip. Her hand ran by the neatly woven braid that tumbled down your chest, imbued with gems she brought you from England, and they’re all pointless. If they no longer caught her attention, that was.

“Are you sure?”

“I must be tired, Astrid. I’ll go rest.”

“Should I come with you?” Astrid asked. “It’s…” her hand drops, hovering then at your stomach. “Unsafe.”

“No, no. Don’t strain yourself.” You quipped quickly. “She’ll be looking for you. It is only Kattegat, after all.”

You slipped outside of the Great Hall where a ravenous feast waged the night away on the back of barrels of ale and heaps of bread and fish. She was only a few crowds away discussing alliances with men that she’s earned the respect of being the single most important valkyrie with women like Torvi and Gunnhild. Women of the shield and sword; strong, sexy women like them.

Perhaps that was why she lost interest.

You were regretfully pathetic with a sword. In the world of the House of Lothbrok, you know that outside is not a place you can stay for long being so bad with sword, shield, and even your own fangs. Perhaps its curiosity that led you outside that night. Would she come find you after all these years? After moments turned to minutes, you exhale a cool breath of air.

The answer was plain.

You stepped away from the Great Hall and looked toward the pins with quiet fat piglets, illuminated by the forgiving full moon in the sky. The red hue indicates the start of the festival. Time for sex, drinks, and bond gifting. The mother squeals sound painful as they rutted against their mother for milk before their night’s end.

Your fingers ran across the mark upon your neck. There’s no fancy sigil there, no glowing golden marks, nor claims. Just… the knowledge and reminder of her scent, hurtling you toward a better time. The vastness of the memory is both wide and deep. It would consume you if you let it. It feels less of a bond and more of a distant memory.

“Is something on your mind?” you lifted your eyes from your prison of self-pity to look behind your shoulder. It’s as if the world comes into focus when you recognize him standing there-- Ragnar, his rugged face fading, smoothing-- and no, it’s not Ragnar. Not the man that would steal away in a moment to find you. That face is too smooth, too princely, entitled. It’s Ubbe. He stands a reminder of his father before him when things were easy and good-- and you mattered. He speaks. “You weren’t inside with Lagertha.”

“I didn’t take it anyone would notice.”

He gazes out toward the empty wooden homes, then back, training his eye upon your mutual bonded neck. Your fingers fall away from your neck. “Everyone notices when an omega goes missing.”

It gives you a moment of pause. In the bright moonlight, his long rolls of hair mimic Ragnar’s. Though they weren’t thick and there were no searing tattoos across the expanse of his pale skin. Not like Ragnar’s. How chiseled his body was, cut by scars his younger doppelganger lacked, the likes of the fishhook that dragged from his chest to his bicep. It pangs, strangely, and the memories with it.

And yes, in the heat of the night, under Lagertha’s comforting touch, how he used to sink into you thrust by thrust. You scanned Ubbe over, dragging the soft fur over your shoulders, and stand upright. “Your father told me that once.”

Ubbe’s slender lips pressed together-- firm on thoughts that you could never touch. He ignores the comment. “Come back inside.”  

It’s not a request. It’s an order. He must think that he has something over you to speak to you in such a way, flat and dry, but level in as many parts with commanding. He’s speaking to the wrong woman. Your eyebrows knit together.

“I am not going inside, Ubbe. I am tired of being a wallflower for one night.”

As dramatic as that knowledge was, it was a fact. You had put effort into looking like this, weaving the pearls, fluttering your lashes at her, the only beg for a night. You knew as well as she did that you wouldn’t beg. You were too proud. As was she.

“She’ll miss you.”

Your lip twitches. You look up to hold his gaze, when you can’t anymore because it’s too painful to tell him. Inevitably, you scoff and look at the band around your finger. “We are old enough to be without one another. She has Astrid.”

He grunts. Bent his head down with a small kick out of the rock under his leather boots. Then turning one way before another, he steps forward into your space. As a bonded omega, you instinctually lean away from him, though his arms are unoffending turned one over another, rather than raised against you. His breath is warm against the cool air of the night. “Then let me walk you to your cabin.”

You couldn’t shake him if you tried. You took the first step toward the dusty street that would lead you to your cabin when things had gotten too loud. Bjorn, Astrid, and Lagertha would undoubtedly drink and talk. Bjorn might venture off for sex. Astrid and Lagertha would go to bed together and-- you shook your head to the thought. Your earrings jangle with it.

“Is it an offer or a demand?”

“Maybe both,” Ubbe follows your quick steps with wide strokes. He’s a big man, perhaps bigger than Ragnar, reflecting his mother’s size. He’s like his father, and yet, nothing like him. His eyes share that same heavy shadow after you, but they lack Ragnar’s curiosity. Not in the absence of it, but the purity in which Ragnar was willing to learn.

“You’re approaching a heat. That is why you wanted to leave.”

You stop.

“Is this what--”

“Another strong scent. I thought you were barren. That’s what I’ve been told, after all.”

This then is the part where your lips part, unable to speak your truth. There’s something off-putting about the way he puts it. It isn’t that he’s necessarily off. In recent years, your heats had been coming with less frequency. Your hand feels itchy, fingers twitching, your words were growing in your mind, and failing to come off your tongue.

There’s nowhere to run.

“Ubbe--” you took a step back, then another, and Ubbe doesn’t mind. It excites him. His eyes are wide blown, rimmed with a blue that was clearer than the sea. He is strange. Most men would turn away from older women and yet-- he comes closer. “When was your last rut?”

“Why does that matter?”

He knows why it matters. You know why it matters. It was pure instinct for Ubbe to mate. It did not matter what Torvi or Margrethe said of the matter. You had only thought you were exempt-- given who your woman was. He feels huge compared to your body, illuminated only by the soft glint of the moonlight-- moonlight. It shone in the sky in brilliant disarray. It was a full traitorous moon.

Words fold on one another in your chest, rising and falling with renewed effort, as if to know what he was about to do. Your eyes make the mistake of latching upon his, delving into deep eye contact, one where his eyes look infinitely darker, and where you’re petrified to break it as if to know that the first one who released it would be the first one to act.

There’s something to be said for an old omega-- they know how to run, how to escape the advances of a drunk alpha, who caught a little bit too strong of a whiff of something he was never entitled to have. But, as alphas go-- once the scent was imprinted in their memory, they would never let it go. You know you don’t stand a chance at outrunning him. He’s too young, too spry, too ready. And you had just fallen headfirst into his trap of the perfectly calm carer.

You pivot your heels and run an omega’s run.

Her name is on your tongue like a chant, sobbing past the frustration of your woven sandals snatching sand through the alleyway. He’s not at all like Bjorn. Bjorn you can outrun, his shape isn’t made for long-distance runs. He’s heavy muscle and bad decisions. When you’re faced with someone like Ubbe, limber and quick, you know there is an issue.

It’s too easy for him to slam into longhouses. You scramble over the empty barrels of ale, scratching with desperate squeaks crying out to the stragglers on the streets for someone to hold him back. You fall on the other side of the barrels, catching your long skirts in bundles, and rush out the alleyway.

And it’s quiet.

Your head snaps down the alley where one sole barrel rolls on its side onto the ground. On the other side, it’s eerily still. The only noise is that of your chest rising and dropping to the tune of Kattegat’s rich ocean some great distance away. His scent is there, foggy and strong, seeping into your lungs in suffocating realization. It hits you all at once, connecting your back to an abandoned barn, where only slaves and pigs lived.

“Don’t move.” He’s so strong, pinning your hips to the barn, that you don’t realize how strongly he’s crushing you, ensuring you couldn’t run. Or think. Or cry out with his mouth fitted clasped over your neck. His gnashing fangs bite the fight out of your lungs, snapping time and again, and it hurts, but what can you do?

You sought something out— anything that is a bridge between reality and the teeth sinking into your neck. That encouraged the flow of your juices over your thighs and an undoubted excitement of the hunt. Instead, you’re so full of the rich, syrupy scent of a lover that reality melts like a pat of butter under summer day. It’s all Ubbe, flooding your nose, infesting your senses.

It hurts. And yet, it soothes the distant ache of your loneliness.

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor

[randomingoftherandomness]

Another OT3 fic where they dont realize they love him till he starts seriously someone. Like Booker has always been the single guy who doesnt do relationships since he moved out of France leaving his family. And all the one night stands are women. But then book starts acting differently and spending less time with them. J&N find out the reason is he is on a date! With another guy. And both of them get a spike of jealousy. Oh boy looks like there's something they need to discuss...

Booker is keeping secrets.

Booker is keeping secrets and Joe is curious enough to admit that he hates the fact that he isn’t privy to whatever mystery that was more beguiling than their weekly routine of watching a game of football and holds his best friend’s attentions for long enough; smiling at the screen of his phone and fingers typing furiously and continuously, that he has just missed two chances to gloat when Joe’s team makes very stupid mistakes on the field.

Even Nicky is noticing the way Booker is barely present enough through the game, that by the time dinner rolls around, his husband is raising disbelieving eyebrows at the way Booker declines a steaming plate of his favourite Pasta alla Genovese. Smiling sheepishly as he makes an excuse and his escape out of their flat when before he would take every chance to stay as long as he can in their company.

“I’m not telling you anything,” Nile says when they meet her for lunch at her favourite place the next day. “And before you think it, no, Andy and Quynh aren’t telling you either. Quynh especially. You know how she is about Booker.”

Joe can’t help but bristle at that. Quynh had practically claimed Booker as her little brother from the first time they’d gotten blind out drunk together. It had been hilarious and endearing, but no one had expected either party to remember it the day after, so when Quynh had practically shoved food that she’d cooked especially for Booker into the said man’s hands the following weekend, it had pretty much sealed the very strange and inexplicable deal on their brother-sister relationship.

So yeah, sure, maybe Booker has reasons for keeping things from them, but for the rest of their friend group to know but them? It stings something true and fierce.

“Is he okay? Is it his kids? You can tell us that much, at least?” Nicky asks gently when their drinks arrive. To anyone listening in, Nicky is calm and collected but Joe knows the cadence of his love’s voice well enough to hear the carefully hidden lilt of frustration.

Nile, who is the youngest of their friend group but the only one out of them who is pursuing a traditional career as a lawyer, is not yet immune to the way Nicky tilts his head and regards her with a pleading and hopeful expression.

“He’s alright. The kids are fine and they’ll be visiting next month with their mum and her boyfriend when the school holidays start. He’s not in trouble or anything like that,” She starts before pausing to have a drink of her coffee. “He just needs some space, okay? That’s all I can tell you. Don’t push. He’ll tell you when he is ready to.”

But when will that be? Joe cannot help but wonder. In all the time that they’d known each other - from the moment he’d first clapped eyes on the tall, reserved, French man who seemed so surprised when he started laughing at one of Joe’s super lame jokes and whose happiness was something he treasures as deeply as that of Nicky’s - Booker had never once had any cause to put up any form of impregnable defences around him. In some selfish and sour space in his heart, Joe allows himself to have that breath and moment to accept the hurt that this secrecy wrings in him.

Nicky isn’t any better. For all that everyone sees Nicky as the mousey one between the both of them, Joe knows that his husband is more than capable of taking up enough space to assert himself. And in the face of Booker and the mystery of whoever was taking up his time and attention, Joe can tell that Nicky would be first in line to attack the issue with a viciousness that will leave bodies in their wake.

Logically, they know that there is nothing wrong with Booker wanting to keep things to himself, but logic and the heart are oft times left out of sync. Not when he has a pillow that is his alone in their flat, a drawer for his clothes in their room that is just as much Joe and Nicky’s as it is his, his favourite brand of coffee in their cupboard that neither one of them drinks.

Perhaps it is just as well that this enigma unravels just as quickly as it had become a noose like strain on their friendship.

Maybe sensing that they needed some form of cheering up, Andy dragged them all out for a night on the town. Between the third pub (or perhaps it was the fifth), it is Nicky who sees them first; tightly coiled together in an embrace under the street lamp, hands on hips, fingers in hair, deep in the throes of a passionate kiss that leaves no doubt in the observer’s eyes that there was only one way this evening will end for the two lovers.

Two lovers, utterly consumed with each other, one of which was Booker.

Nicky’s grip of his hand tightens to the point of pain when they see Booker responding eagerly to the tilt of the stranger’s mouth against his. Both their feets stuck to the pavement as they watch the way their friend seem to unfurl, pressed against the lamp post, legs parted to allow the stranger to take port between his thick thighs.

“Was this the secret?” Joe manages around the curious taste of yearning in his mouth for the knowledge of how Booker would feel if he were the one slipping his tongue into the willing seam of his mouth. The thought invades his mind and makes roost before he can dispel it. He has never wanted to kiss anyone other than Nicky, but a quick look to his husband tells him enough to know that the epiphany isn’t just occurring to him alone.

Quynh, when she steps close to them, grips his forearm with a strength that belies only her protectiveness over Booker. Her perfume in the cold night air sticks in his nose and her dark eyes are commanding and fierce when Joe meets her gaze. “I would tell you to be careful with his heart but I know Basti’s got none left to give to the men he has been seeing,” Quynh says simply. “And by the looks of you two, you should sort out whatever it is you’re feeling before you talk to him about this.”

“Yeah.” Joe hears Nicky croak from beside him. Still utterly mesmerised by the way Booker looks, kiss flushed and laughing in the halogen glow of the lights. “I think we do.”