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londonalozzy · 3 years

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Don’t Tell Bucky 1/2

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Drama

Summary: The reader arrives home one night after drowning her sorrows, thinking she doesn't stand a chance with the guy she loves most, Bucky Barnes. She is so out of it that she ends up revealing all of her feelings to the first person she sees. The man himself.

Masterlist

I've been teased my whole adult life about what an old fashioned, hopeless romantic I am.

Yes, I'm an Avenger. Yes, I can kick ass when the occasion arises. But the rest of the time, the usual place to find me, is curled up on the couch with my head buried in a Jane Austen novel.

A couple of years ago someone came into my life that I thought was the key to it all. He was destined to be the Darcy to my Elizabeth, the Edward to my Elinor, the Mr Knightly to my Emma. Oh, how wrong I was!

When Steve first brought Bucky to Avengers HQ it was like a modern day version of when Bingley introduced Mr Darcy to the people of Meryton at the ball in Pride and Prejudice.

He was the archetype of the aloof romantic hero. Tall, dark, handsome, brooding and quiet. He kept himself to himself, observed everyone with eyes of an eagle, and only spoke when spoken to. I was well and truly hooked.

As weeks turned into months, Bucky and I came to an understanding, a friendship that only got more complicated as time went on. After everything he had been through, it was hard for him to open up to people, to let his guard down. What he did yearn for though, was companionship, someone to sit beside, someone to just be there if and when he needed them. I became that person for him.

Every time I decided to sit silently with a book in hand, it wouldn't be long before I had a certain super soldier at my side, just embracing the company, not having to worry about putting on a show for people he didn't feel comfortable with.

The complication in our relationship came when I realised how much I had come to depend on him being there for me.

My aching for him first made itself known when he started going out on missions that I wasn't apart of, when he went on all day training sessions away with the guys, and whole nights out when his confidence finally got a boost. I missed him. I missed him with every fiber of my being.

"So, I'm guessing you've heard the latest gossip on Barnes?" Nat asked me one morning over breakfast, her eyes not leaving her plate of blueberry pancakes as she spoke.

"Gossip? What are you talking about?" Any news on what Bucky was up to was music to my ears. I'd barely seen him these last few weeks, and it was seriously messing me up in more ways than I'd like to admit.

"You mean he's not told you? You? Princess Y/N?"

To say Nat was surprised by my ignorance was an understatement. This must be something big if she is shocked about it. When did it change to others knowing more about Bucky than I did? I thought we were best friends. He calls me Princess for Christ's sake.

"Maybe you should ask him yourself," Nat suggested, reaching across the table and rubbing my forearm. "I just assumed he would have told you first."

Now I'm seriously freaking out. "Nat, please just tell me what the hell is going on."

"You know Theresa down in medical?" Oh, shit. I've got a bad feeling about this.

"Yeah. What about her?"

"They're dating." Oh no!

It felt like my heart had leapt into my throat. I couldn't think, never mind know what to respond with. I knew it would happen eventually. I knew he'd end up with someone. I just assumed it would me. How stupid could I be?

"Y/N, you need to tell him how you feel." Why does Nat always have to be so good at this observation stuff?

"I don't know what you're talking about," I choked with a traitor tear in my eye, and a jump up from my chair when I suddenly felt the need to escape.

Nat followed me down the hall to my room, putting herself in front of me as I tried to change into my running gear. I had to get out of there. "You can't pretend this isn't happening Y/N. This is Bucky we're talking about. Your Bucky. You'll regret it if you don't tell him."

"Yeah, well I'll regret it a hell of a lot more if I do tell him and then lose him completely."

Nat grabbed my arms, stopping me in my tracks. She was one of my closest friends for a reason. She knew what made me tick, what scared me, what mattered the most to me. It's just not a risk I can take though.

"If you don't talk to him, all of this will get bottled up inside and it will ruin your friendship anyway. Y/N you need to get this out."

She was right. This was Nat. She was always right. My head and heart couldn't handle all of this new information. I didn't know how to deal with it, how to react.

So much for that epic romance I thought I was destined for. Looks like, for me, I'm only meant to be the friend, the side character in someone else's love story. I'm Eponine and not Cosette.

Deciding to lay off of me for the rest of the day, Nat rounded up Wanda and a few others and we headed out for a few drinks. Well, what started out as a few drinks anyway.

By the early morning I had at least 10 too many tequila shots in my bloodstream, partnered with a sore throat from overly emotional karaoke renditions of some of the best known heartbreak songs. I was a mess. A mess that could barely remember her own name.

"Are you drunk?" A random voice echoed through the hall as I stumbled around, trying and failing to get into what I hoped was my room at 2am.

"Why would you think that?" I replied to the swaying figure as they moved closer to steady my feet.

"Probably because you're trying to unlock your bedroom door with a lip stick. Plus the fact that the door doesn't have a lock on it anyway. What's up?"

Ignoring the nosy stranger, and giving up on getting into my room because the handle kept moving all over the place, I went in search of the nearest soft thing I could find to park myself on. Standing up was over rated anyway.

"You don't normally drink like this Princess," the randomer observed, leaning over me as I started making rug angels on the shag pile in the common room.

Why is this guy talking like he knows me? Who the hell does he think he is calling me that? "I've just got a lot on my mind. And don't Princess me. Only Bucky gets to call me that."

"Noted," the randomer laughed with a shake of the head, then joining me by laying at my side.

Staring at the ceiling as the silence engulfed us, I decided to confide in this handsome newbie. "If I tell you something, can you promise you won't tell anybody?"

"I promise," he responded without hesitation.

"I mean it, nobody can know. Especially Bucky. He can never find out." I pulled him into a sitting position and put my hands on either side of his face, trying to stress how important it was that he keeps this to himself. He really was pretty.

"I swear, Bucky will hear none of this from me."

"Ok. Here goes," I jumped up, frantic all of a sudden. "I want him to break up with his girlfriend, and it's seriously stressing me out."

"Why would you want him to do that? She's a nice girl isn't she?," pretty boy questioned in confusion, getting to his feet as well. Why did he care so much? Where the heck did he come from anyway? I swear, if this is one of Tony's robo experiments again I'm gonna flip.

"I'm sure they're perfect for each other," I groaned. "I just know that I don't want him with her. At first I had no idea why. He's one of my closest friends. I should want him to be happy right?"

"Of course," Mr Blue eyes confirmed with a furrowed brow and by gripping onto my now clammy hands.

"Then I started thinking about it. Why was I feeling like this? Why was it bothering me so much? I realised, it wasn't just this one girl I have a problem with. It's all girls. All except one."

"Who?"

"Me."

"Wait? What?" He bellowed, leaping backwards and pacing the floor. "You want m...I mean Bucky to go out with you?"

"Yeah. I mean, I think so."

"Y/N, you can't just come out with something like that and respond with I think so," he screeched out in loud exasperation, so much so that I burst into flood of tears.

"Why are you shouting at me?" This guy is such a meanie.

When he saw how upset I was he immediately calmed down, placing his palms on my face and wiping the salty drops away. "Y/N please don't cry. This is just a lot to process."

It took me a while to calm myself down, hiccups escaping my lips as the crying finally subsided. Slowly, the angel man, stranger, person, thing walked me over to the couch and sat us both down. His eyes were boring into me, beautiful azure pools that looked slightly familiar. Maybe it was those bath bombs Steve keeps buying from Lush. I don't know.

"Why do you even care about all this? It's not like you know him or something?" I enquired, now looking at anything other than in those beautiful bath fizzer eyes.

"Just try to explain to me what's going on in that crazy little head of yours," he pressed.

Oh well. I may as well carry on now I've started.

"I've been with the Avengers for a long time. They're my family, my home. And don't get me wrong, I know they care about me, love me even. It's just easy to be sidelined, you know? To become an after thought when you're part of something so big. Bucky changed that. When I met him, it was like everything shifted. He became the reason I smiled every day, why I looked forward to getting out of bed. For the first time in my life I felt like I was at the top of someone's priority list."

"So are all of these feelings because you think you're gonna lose that? You think you're gonna lose him? I swear to you it won't happen." If it only it were that easy.

"I wish it was that," the tears building up once more as I eventually decided to look at him properly. "It would make all of this way less complicated."

"What is it then?," he pressed in urgency.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm head over heels in love with the guy."

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #reader #james barnes #Winter Soldier #Sebastian Stan #marvel #Avengers #captain america #falcon #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #oc #romance #comedy #drama

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deannaroxannewrites · 3 years

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Tropetember Day 2: Coffee Shop / Tattoo Parlor / Flower Shop / Other Retail AU

Coffee and other ways to heal the soul.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: General Audiences

TW: Valhalla arc (mentioned), coffee, NCIS cameo

AN: Day 2 of @tropetember. I was really struggling with the coffee shop AU but once I got going, really got way too into it and could probably pad this out into a short series. Is that something people would be interested in?

Also, not really sure if I managed to capture Spencer but remember this is an AU and that's my excuse!

Enjoy!

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 2.4k

One of the biggest advantages of owning one of the few coffee shops in Quantico that wasn't part of a massive chain, was the constant stream of senior FBI and Navy personnel desperate for high quality, well made coffee. It had become such a lucrative venture in fact that you could afford to hire enough staff to rarely even have to be behind the counter at all.

The surge in popularity has even allowed you to convert one of the spare upstairs rooms into a meeting room. In hindsight, you should have converted more because once your regulars found out about it, there had been outright war between the Navy and FBI to try and get meetings booked in. A couple of your regulars had even managed to get both institutions to hardwire connections so they could host even more briefings and meetings in the friendly, comfortable space.

Today's winners were a Unit from the FBI, who had booked it out for a whole day. Aaron Hotchner, the BAU chief, came in most mornings and was a real sweetheart. You'd been trying to get him to drink something other than his normal americano since his return from Afghanistan a few months ago, but had not been successful so far. You were excited to meet the rest of the legendary team. He always spoke fondly of them when he bought extra coffees to boost morale.

With that in mind, you quickly throw together the pastries and beverages he'd preordered for the start of their session and head in to do a quick check that everything was ready.

Like any meeting room, there was a large table in the center but you'd made sure to surround it with comfy and artfully mismatched chairs. The floor was a deep walnut colour and matched the numerous floating shelves which were covered in plants and books. The place was homey and extended the cosy chic look you had been trying to achieve throughout the shop.

After a little bit of organising, including making sure the FBI cables were accessible and tidying any of the Navy’s equipment, you head downstairs to the main space.

Charlotte and Jessica were behind the tills this morning, making quick work of the line and exuding friendly helpfulness out of every pore. They were both grad students and you were already dreading them graduating. Their natural effervescence would be impossible to replace.

To pass the time until your booking arrives, you catch up with NCIS Agent McGee who is on the coffee run, trying not to hold him up too long in case he ends up getting in more trouble with his big bad boss. Apparently Agent DiNozzo had knocked over Gibbs coffee but McGee had then slipped in it and done some minor damage to some of the equipment. He told you he much preferred coffee run to door knocking duty round a 6 block radius like DiNozzo.

As you wrap it up, a group of people enter the shop, led by a woman in colourful clothes and a sunshine demeanour. It's not until you see Agent Hotchner's suited and booted presence bringing up the rear that you realise this is the infamous BAU.

Donning your friendliest persona, you politely excuse yourself from McGee and head to greet them, calling Aaron's name across the way.

The profilers seem surprised by your use of their bosses name but quickly shake it off as introductions are made. You receive hand shakes off most of them with the exception of Penelope, who gives you a hug because of course she does, and Dr Spencer Reid who gives you a shy wave and looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.

It didn't take a profiler to see the physical distance between the genius and the rest of the group. He was always a step away from the nearest person and automatically avoided any physical contact from them.

How strange.

Brushing it off you lead them upstairs and get them settled, letting them know that they're welcome to come and go in the shop as need and that all their drinks would be added to the discounted tab and left them too it, all the while trying not to puzzle over the handsome loner and his cute sweater vest.

-----

If there was one thing Spencer Reid hated more than anything, it was team building.

Normally, back before everything happened, he would just grit his teeth and bear it. That's been a lot harder after finding out that Emily was alive.

Processing the joy at her being alive and the rage at being led to believe she was dead in the first place, particularly by the people he trusted the most, was not easy. He was trying to forgive them. He was trying to let it go, to accept the damage but move forward.

It was still a work in progress.

That's why, when Hotch announced a team building/meeting day, he had momentarily considered resigning. Though there was no longer outright hostility between himself and Jennifer, things weren’t exactly comfortable between himself and half of the team. The only bright side to this whole endeavour was the location. No coffee shop lasted long in Quantico unless the coffee was actually good. It was a small mercy.

He followed the rest of the team into the coffee shop, eyeing the surroundings and taking note of the other visitors. As the rest of the team joked about, he stayed back, simply waving at the nice owner of the shop when Hotch introduced them.

They appeared to be about his age which was very impressive considering the success of the café. And there were a couple of sci-fi references hidden in the décor that he would have loved to ask about, but he doubted they’d appreciate him going off about Star Trek this early in the morning. Instead he just gave a tight-lipped smile and followed the team upstairs.

Spencer tried his best to concentrate throughout the morning but to say he was relieved when they were left to their own devices for lunch would be an understatement.

-----

After a productive morning in the office, you wander back out to the main part of the shop to check on things. The lunch rush can be unforgiving but the girls seem to have it in hand. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Tuesday lunchtime.

What you didn’t expect to see was Spencer Reid hidden away at one of the back tables with a ginormous book in front of him, a small scowl on his face and the rest of his team nowhere in sight.

You agonise silently with yourself for a few moments before you decide to head over. You figure if he doesn’t want company he’ll let you know but you feel drawn to him. It was strange. Maybe it was just your instinctive need to collect strays.

You smile gently at him when you reach his table, indicating the seat opposite him in question. He gives a quick nod but doesn’t fully look at you.

“Everything ok?” you ask.

He takes a moment and seems to be considering his options. He looks at you with a little tilt of his head, likely questioning your motives.

Finally, he seems to decide you have no sinister intention and quietly replies “I just wish things could go back to how they were”.

You had heard about the events involving the BAU in the last year or so. It had been a hot topic of gossip in the shop numerous times. Aaron also occasionally talked about his guilt at what he put his team through when he stopped by, needing a friend to talk to. It’s the first time, however, that you think in depth about how faking a close friend's death likely affected the team members who were unaware.

This isn’t to say you didn’t care or didn’t think that it must have been terrible for them. You did, but had agreed with the justification that it was for Agent Prentiss’ safety, that finding out she was alive would make up for it. It’s apparent in the sadness of Dr Reid’s expression that that isn’t the case.

“Can I touch you?”

His eyes shoot up in surprise and he hesitantly nods. You gently grasp his hands, wrapping your fingers around his.

“I can’t even imagine,” you begin slowly, “how difficult this must be. But if you ever need to talk to someone, you’re always welcome here”

He gives a short, sharp nod and squeezes your fingers which you take to mean thank you.

“Also, this is totally not my place but, a therapist, one outside the Bureau? Might not be such a bad idea?” You give a sardonic grin and admit ” It worked for me”

After you give his hands another quick squeeze, you leave him to ponder your statement and head back to your office. Paperwork doesn’t do it self after all.

You hope Spencer manages to find some support though and decide that if he wants it, you’d be more than willing to help him.

---------------

It was a few weeks before Spencer Reid showed up in the coffee shop again.

It was early evening and you only had a few people in. You’d opted to close up tonight to ensure Jessica, who had been on the afternoon shift, had time to work on her assignment for class. She’d been complaining about it for the last few days.

The sound of the front door opening distracts you from your thoughts and you glance up to see who has entered. When you realise who it is you can’t help but smile.

“Fancy seeing you here Dr Reid” you say in greeting. He gives you a small smile in return.

“Well, it’s good coffee and, erm, the company’s good?”

You understand the question implicit in that comment and glance around at the few remaining patrons. They all have a beverage and it’s a quiet night so you can afford to take a step out behind the counter between orders.

“Sure, let me make us both a drink and then I’m all yours.”

You take his order (how much sugar?!?!) and get you both sorted out and settled into a small booth. You look at him, taking in the nervous expression on his face and let him settle in and start the conversation.

“I, erm, I took your advice”.

“That’s good. Are you finding it’s helping? Having someone outside of work to talk things through with?”

He nods his head.

“One of the things she pointed out was that so much of my life is wrapped up in work, that when things go wrong I don't have an external support system. Not that I didn't know that already but, someone else pointing it out made me realise how much if an impact it has.”

You bob your head thoughtfully, acknowledging his comment but not forcing him to say more.

“She suggested I try to find people outside of work to talk to. I was... I was wondering if you could be one?”

His nerves seem to have failed him slightly as he can’t look you in the eye, but you give him a big grin. Of course you want to spend time with this lovely man.

“I’d love to” you say, which gets him to look up and give you a smile in response.

You spend nearly an hour, with occasional breaks to serve customers, chatting to him before it becomes necessary to close up. He starts gathering his things but you’ve been enjoying his company so much you can’t bear to let him go. Instead, you check if he’s in a rush and, after confirming he has nothing else planned, invite him to hang around and grab something to eat from the diner down the street.

By the end of the night, you’re glad the diner is 24hr. You completely lose track of time, fascinated by the sheer amount of information he can provide and the passion with which he infodumps. It’s extremely endearing.

“I had a lovely time tonight” you tell him as you walk towards your apartment. You don’t live too far from the coffee shop and he had very gallantly offered to walk you home. “I’d love to do it again some time?”

He smiles and nods in agreement before asking for your phone number.

“I don't really like technology that much so I don’t have a smartphone and I don’t really check it that much and prefer speaking to texting…”

“Spence” you say, a little laugh in your voice as you interrupt. “Whatever works best for you. I’m not going to suddenly vanish on you, promise.”

You seem to have hit his worries a little too closely as he sways a little awkwardly, gaze wandering down to his feet.

“Can I hug you?” you check. His answer is to wrap his arms around you and you gently sway the both of you side to side.

He lets go and turns to head back out into the night as you call out “If you’re ever missing me, I know a place you can get great coffee. I can get you a good discount.” A laugh stutters from his lips and he wishes you a good night.

Leaning against your door you sigh happily to yourself. It’s always a good feeling making a new friend.

--------------

It had been over a year since the last time the BAU had booked (and managed to attend the booking). In that time, you’d converted another room upstairs into a meeting room, as well as setting up a shared work/study space in a room out the back.

You grin as you see them all enter, fascinated by the way this family of agents interact with each other. There’s even a tall, handsome genius who stands within the group, laughing and joking along with the rest.

Spencer greets you with a gentle kiss to your lips and it causes uproar from his colleagues. You don’t react much, you just turn to them and shrug.

“Do you know how many germs are passed in a handshake? It’s much safer to kiss.”

Your genius just laughs and wraps an arm around you, guiding the whole group upstairs, his friends playfully demanding details the whole way.

#Trope: Coffee Shop AU #Criminal Minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #tropetember #fanfiction #unbeta'd

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wolf-and-bard · 3 years

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Proper Procedures for Wooing Witches

for @littoraly-art because you are amazing and I already said this, but I hope you have an awesome birthday <3

Pairing: Yennefer/Jaskier

Word Count: ~2.2k

Rating: T, some explicit language

„My darling Yennefer,“ Jaskier calls out as he swoops into his Oxenfurt apartment with a flat carton wedged under his arm. It already nicked the lavender mesh overlay of his newest doublet, but for once, he absolutely cannot be bothered by that. It’s too nice of a day. “Hello?” He kicks off his shoes.

High noon’s just gone by and Jaskier doesn’t expect Yen to be up yet – which means she will hex his ass if he wakes her. His giddiness outweighs his fears though, heart warming, as he takes in the cluttered entryway. Several pairs of shoes are strewn about, his and hers mixing on the ground. Yen’s all look like they could double as a lethal weapon and are some variation of black and white (though one pair is tinged brown from blood that crusts the bottom, he doesn’t want to know). It’s awfully domestic, a product of the temporary living situation they are in.

When Yen requested to use his rooms for a week or so, she explicitly asked for Jaskier not to be there, but, well, he is weak, he wants her, he couldn’t have stayed away if he tried. Yen’s been snippy from the moment he welcomed her with open arms and the prospect of sharing a bedroom, snippy to the point of grumpiness. That’s fair, Jaskier supposes. It’s also fair that she slips out at the most random times of day, coming back only when Jaskier’s gone to the academy for lectures or the pub for drinks with his colleagues. All fair and good. He catches her about once a day which is more than he can say for most of the year. Fair, yes. Nice, even though Yen is rarely, if at all, impressed with his affection for her. A bard can dream.

“Yenny,” he shouts again and whistles to himself as he slides through to the main room. To his surprise, she lounges at his dinner table by the window, one hand curled around a steaming mug, the other holding up one of his most beloved poetry collections (not only because he wrote several of the entries). Her hair falls in rich raven curls that cover her chest, barely concealed by the sheer black dressing gown she wears. It’s the only thing she wears, Jaskier notices, gulping heavily. Yen doesn’t look up from her reading, her lips are pursed and her tone clipped as she replies.

“For every time you call me that, bard, your balls will grow the tiniest fraction until, one day, they will explode, never to grow back.”

Jaskier considers it. Directs his attention downward. They do feel a bit strange, don’t they? But that’s only because he’s thinking about them. Right.

“I shall not be fooled,” Jaskier says, grinning. “But if you so insist, ‘beloved’ will do just as well. I brought you a gift.” Brushing past his dusty bookshelves and cluttered desk, he struts towards the table and drops the carton on it. It lands with a thud and swirls up more dust – how is it this dusty already, Jaskier could swear he cleaned the place, like, last month?

Yen licks her finger to turn the page which makes Jaskier laugh out loud. He rounds the table to glance over her shoulder, but immediately has to retch. There, catching Yen’s precise attention, is Valdo’s vomit-inducing sonnet about his first time taking a tumble with what Jaskier assumes was a professional. It has to be, no self-respecting person would bed the man free of his coin. Jaskier makes a mental note to spread another rumour about Valdo and various sexual diseases, then plucks the book from her hands and lets it drop to the table. She sighs softly under her breath and allows him to put a hand on her shoulder. Is that… does she lean into him? The tiniest bit? Oh, dear.

“That better not be a dress,” Yen says, reaching out. Her fingertips trace the edge of the carton as if she’s in deep debate on whether to pop it open. This is a game they’ve been playing excessively, him bringing her gifts, her making a show of whether to accept them or not. On the few occasions that Yen invites him for a drink or gives the acoustic properties of his lute a small magical boost, Jaskier fails to reciprocate her cool attitude. He’s too in love to feign indifference and it’s not like she would believe him either.

“If we’re using dress in terms of the precise cut it implies then no, no dress,” he replies, thumb rubbing her skin through the slippery material of the gown mostly to work through the tightness in his throat. It hurts sometimes because this farce makes him think she doesn’t want him. Hell, most things Yen does are aimed at making him think she doesn’t want him. But then there are fractions of admittance like this, like when her gravity shifts towards him or he finds her in his rooms, barely dressed, that make him think there might be more there. Jaskier simply has to practice patience.

“Julian, do I seem like a woman easily impressed with shallow gifts of clothes? In case you hadn’t noticed, I have a very particular style.”

“Oh, I noticed. Trust me, Yenny, you are very much one of a kind,” he replies, mesmerized by her fingers dancing on the cardboard. She loses no time in jabbing back.

“And yet you revert to common courting techniques? That’s pathetic and you know it.”

“Bold of you to assume I am courting you.”

“Bold of you to claim you are not. If I remember correctly, the last time Geralt was with us you got drunk off your ass and asked him for his permission to woo me. Which was sweet but not at all his place to allow. Then you continued to exert yourself into my life on every possible occasion with flowers and picnics and awful love songs. How else am I going to interpret all this?” Yen asks, craning her neck to look up at him from under dark lashes. Gods, she is gorgeous.

“Touché. But do not think I would waste the efforts of my best tailor on just anyone. This is advanced courting, dear.”

“I fail to see its distinguishing qualities.”

“The difference is that these clothes are hardly a gift and more a means to an end.” Jaskier winks which has her eyes narrow, fall back to the carton.

“You want to take me somewhere” Yen asks and, of course, she untangles his intentions immediately.

“Not just somewhere. My cousin’s forwarded me an invitation to a ball put on by some countryside nobleman or other. His work keeps him in Kerack so I’m to go in his stead. That is to say, I’d hoped you would go dancing with me.”

Yen looks up once more and Jaskier starts a little. He will never get used to the vibrance of her violet eyes, how they see through him. Once, she said it took no effort at all to pick at his thoughts, that she always feels as though he’s screaming them right at her. So, he does.

Please, he thinks, mouth twitching into a soft smile. Please, just this once. It would mean the world to me.

Yen huffs a small laugh and shakes her head, then draws the box towards her. Inside, she finds a slim-cut blouse made from the finest black cotton in the city, complete with white lace trim down the front and flaring out at the cuffs and collar. With it, Jaskier had the tailor make a white corset belt and a pair of deep black pants that have applications of the same lace. It would look precarious, almost edgy, on anyone else, but on Yen… the thought alone makes Jaskier’s chest tighten with adoration.

“Jules, this is beautiful,” Yen murmurs as her fingers trace the line of the seams on the blouse. Jaskier puts his other hand to her shoulder and holds on for dear life as his ear twitches. Was that? Did she just? Oh, how he itches to make a quip about the nickname. Because it’s funny, yes, but it also gives him palpitations. He feels like a lovesick puppy trying to befriend a wild cat. Which also means that any violation of trust can ruin what they have. It’s just so fucking precious, this whole affair, and if he were on the outside of it, he would squeal in delight and write a whole novel about it. He still might.

“I’m glad you like it. And it will look absolutely stunning on you. You will look stunning in it. Ah, not implying that you don’t usually look stunning. What I am saying is, the other attendees will be stunned.”

“You’re ridiculous… and stupid too. Are you certain you want to take me to the ball? I’m not exactly popular with the local nobility.”

“Quite the tragedy,” Jaskier says and because he feels daring, he bends down and kisses the top of her head. Then, he saunters over to the stove, pours himself a mug of tea and takes the seat next to her. “And yes, I am certain. In fact, there is nothing I’d love more. Let the people talk.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Yen says on another sigh. “Not about what they say or think or do.”

“Which is part of what makes you so damn sexy.”

Yen rolls her eyes and folds the clothes back into the carton.

“These are lovely, but I will not wear them to the dance,” Yen says. Which means she will go with him at least. It’s not enough, Jaskier is dying to see her wear what he picked out, dying to show the world that such a brilliant woman would choose to spend the evening with him. Most of all, he wants to make her happy. “Trust me on this. You have a reputation to worry about and bringing me along already risks that. Bringing me along in that can and will mess with your career.”

“Trust me, when I say that it won’t matter. I’m already famous and folk love to gossip about famous people. Probably more than they love my songs. I could imagine worse truths to be spread about me. Besides, didn’t you just say you don’t care what people think about you? Why then would you worry about what people think about me?”

"Well I never," she says, but her lips soften into a smile and her hand rises to fiddle with her pendant. Jaskier gently pries it off and brings her knuckles to his lips.

"I don't care either," he whispers. "I just want to go dancing with you."

"I'll portal to my rooms in Kaedwen and get one of my old dresses.” Her face is all smiles, but an edge has stolen into her voice which makes her sound forlorn, sad even, and her eyes flicker over to the folded clothes in the box. Jaskier’s throat tightens.

"Why are you so stubborn? It’s obvious you want to wear them. You don’t need to start giving a fuck now.”

"I'm trying to do something for you here, Julian. I don't usually go out of my way to attend stuck-up parties with peacocks such as yourself."

“Please,” Jaskier says. He still holds her hands in both of his and because he has no shame, and because this really does mean the world to him, he sinks off his chair and onto his knees before her legs. Yen’s eyes widen a fraction. “For me.”

-----

They dance. Oh, how they dance. Jaskier always considered himself a great dancer, he has music in his veins and has flirted and whirled his way through every ball room and banquet hall on the Continent, and it’s clear that Yen is no stranger to this art either. They are exuberant, relentless, they laugh and pirouette and demand their ground, much to the detriment of those with lesser skills. The lack of a dress doesn’t subtract from their flair, if anything, it allows for a broader range of motion

"The only way we could draw more eyes is if we'd brought Geralt along,” Yen giggles. Fuck. She’s so carefree it brings tears to Jaskier’s eyes.

"Gods no," he laughs. "He would ruin all the fun with his growling and brooding. If you're looking for more attention however..."

"Jules-"

Jaskier twirls her and, in that motion, catches her around the waist and dips her low, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips which are parted on a yelp. Before he can tug her up again, her hands come forward to cup his face and she presses into him, grins into the kiss.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous,” she whispers.

“Admit it,” Jaskier drawls as he brings her back upright and they fall into an easy basic waltz, closer to each other than the dance strictly necessitates. “You love me.”

“That is awfully presumptuous of you.” But she laughs, and kisses his cheek, and Jaskier thinks that maybe one day, she will. “Don’t bet on it, bard.”

#the witcher #witcher #jaskier #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer x jaskier #yenskier #I'll reblog with ao3 link later #ficlet #my writing #fluff

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waywardimpalawriter · 3 years

Text

Cake Thief (Marcus Pike x F!Reader)

Cake thief

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Fluff, tooth rottening fluff, a little spice

Word count: 2,023

Summary: You’d been thinking about that last piece all day especially how crappy of a day it’s been.

Notes: Inspired by a favorite cupcake show that’s in my area and because Marcus Pike is just the sweetest.

Shit show that’s what you’d call it. The whole damn day from missing the morning goodbye kiss from Marcus to someone stealing your lunch and now soaked to the bone from an early evening downpour. Sure you could’ve waited the storm out in your car. But all you wanted now is a nice hot shower, fluffy pajama’s, Marcus’s arms wrapped around you and the last piece of decadent red velvet cake from your favorite place.

Shuffling through the door dropping purse and keys on the end table behind the couch, carefully shrugging out of your soaked jacket to not soak the carpet and carrying it towards the small laundry space. Kicking your kitten heels off while adding to the jacket your black dress trousers, and burgundy wrap tunic blouse a favorite that you wanted off to show Marcus. But that’ll have to wait for another time as a shiver runs down your spine rain drops cooling your skin when the air conditioning kicks on. Cursing the rotten luck you’ve managed to acquire today while bending to scoop up your heels and head towards the bedroom. Nice hot shower calling your name only pausing long enough to grab up one of Marcus’s dress shirt’s and a pair of panties before heading towards the bathroom.

Getting the water to the perfect temperature before stripping your under garments off and stepping under the warm spray. Soft moan leaving your lips the steam enveloping you in a welcoming hug. Heating your chilled skin and chasing away the shivers, hot water soothing out the tightness in your shoulders from your crappy day. Wishing and not for the first time that Marcus would’ve beating you home.

Foolish though you know since most nights he’s always late given the importance of his job with the FBI. Remembering your best, scratch that ex best friend snorting at you when in great detail you explained Marcus’s job. Never feeling so much anger in your life towards another human being. Sure at the time it’d been only three months into the relationship and Marcus brought his work home some nights. What hurt the most were snide little comments she’d make on how he didn’t have a real job at the FBI. Just played with art the whole time, wanna be artist she’d called him. Most of all when she started to question his true intent, that he’s damaged goods, divorced and coming out of another failed relationship. If there’s one thing you learned about DC it’s that gossip floats around like yesterdays trash.

Finding out through the gossip channel that Matty boosted about how she’s just a couple more pushes away from getting her hands on Marcus. Alluding to the fact she felt you weren’t his type, not thin enough and in her opinion not pretty enough to keep a man like Marcus Pike interested. Needless to say one snowy afternoon your iced caramel macchiato happen to find itself poured down the front of Matty’s body. To this day two years later the memory still made you giggle more than it should.

Soaping up the loofa and starting to wash your soft curves remembering the shock in those sinful brown eyes of Marcus’s when you explained what happened. How he spent the rest of the night reassuring you and maybe even himself that your the woman he wanted. Those thoughts cause a delicious shiver of a different kind to slide down your spine. Rushing through the rest of your shower hoping by the time you’ve dried off and dressed Marcus would’ve come home.

Lost in your thoughts, shower covering most of the sounds coming from the living room as the man in question drops his keys besides yours. Relieved sigh leaving his lips at finally getting home. First real smile tugs at the corner of his mouth hearing the shower run. Sure it’s only been ten hours since he saw you last but it didn’t stop the need to hold you from stealing over him. Normally going to join but he hears the water shut off signally you’ll be joining him soon. Instead he heads towards the kitchen to pull fixings for dinner out. Spying the last slice of red velvet cake he debates with himself for the better part of five minutes before pulling the piece from the cold confines of the refrigerator. Slowly licking his lips while opening the plastic container, fragrant sweet cream cheese frosting hitting his taste buds before a single morsel.

He wastes no time grabbing a fork to dig in moaning around the fluffy red velvet cake and metal tines of the fork. Back pressing against the counter now, eyes having closed in bliss. Not knowing you’ve come from the bathroom, his dark blue dress shirt covering your plush body. Steps halting when you find him enjoying your last slice. Part of you wanting to snatch it from his hands scolding him for taking what’s yours. However, you’ve learned to share after all and Marcus did deserve to have a sweet treat. With those thoughts combined with a very erotic idea, you glance down unbuttoning a few more to expose your cleavage.

Hands coming to rest on your wide hips one jutting out and clearing your throat trying to hide the smirk when Marcus jumps. His eyes fly open and wide to stare at you. “Whatch ya eaten there Marcus?” Brow lifting, watching as he licks those sinful lips, Adams apple bobbing with a hard swallow. Itching to run your mouth over the tanned skin take in his scent, drowning in those warm chocolate pools still shocked wide.

“Last piece of cake,” knowing it useless to lie. Recovering himself, trailing his eyes over your body slowly, voice deep with barely hidden arousal at seeing you in his shirt. Normally not a possessive man but there’s something about seeing you in his shirt which brings out a feral need in him. “Want a bite?”

Capturing your bottom witnessing the heat flaring to life while trying to keep the smirk from becoming full blown. You take a step closer, “You know that’s my last piece Marcus I’d been looking forward to it all day long. Especially after the shit show of a day I had.”

Warm smile slides over the very kissable lips, not matching the desire swimming just beneath his veins. “I’m sorry sweetheart had no idea your day sucked.” Scooping up another bite and holding it towards you, “You know I’ll always share.”

“How sweet of you,” closing the distance between you. Mouth opening to wrap your lips around the fork while keeping eye contact with Marcus. Slowly pulling back, taking the moist cake and sweet frosting into the heated cavern of your mouth. Soft moan sounding from deep within your chest as you savor each decadent flavor bursting on your tongue. Licking your lips to catch the smallest of crumbs, “Mind if I have another bite?”

Swallowing harshly, struck mute for a moment. “Of course baby…” swallowing his tongue on the last word with a swipe of your finger through the cream cheese frosting. Watching with peaked interest as that single digit makes its way towards your mouth. Pink tongue coming out to lick a good portion off eyes closing to savor the sweetness. Wrapping your lips around the tip to suck off what’s left. Watching transfixed by the erotic sight your presenting him. Room in those normally loose dress pants becoming a high commodity with each moan vibrating through your chest.

“Hmm not bad,” full blown smirk gracing your lips passion filled eyes opening to stare at him. “But it’s missing something.”

“That would be?” Intrigued by your words, Marcus reacts first. Container placed on the table beside you, reaching to wrap an arm around your waist. Pulling you flush against his chest white dress shirt wrinkling with you pressed together so intimately. “Before you answer that, have I told you how beautiful you look in my clothes?”

Shaking your head one hand comes up to draw patterns on his tie before wrapping it around your hand to give a little tug. “No you’ve never said,” looking up through your lashes. Admiring the way his chocolate browns deepen to almost pitch with every tug on his tie. Only broken when you feel cool sticky fingers brush over your throat head tipping back to give him access. Soft lips following the sweet trail he’s painted on your skin eliciting whimpers from you throat. “Is…” swallowing hard trying to form words to speak. “Is this what you mean by sharing, Cake Thief?”

“Cake Thief huh?” Drawing his nose up the column of your throat to that little spot just behind your ear. Nibbling softly smirk tugging at his lips hearing another whimper sound from your mouth.

Nodding trying to keep from giving yourself away, “Yup you stole my last piece of cake.” With much difficulty you pull back from his questing lips that threaten to draw another moan from your willing body. Eyes locking then diverting when his hand comes up with another bite held carefully between thumb and forefinger.

“Ah but how can you call me a thief when I’m sharing?” Bringing his fingers to your mouth, opening enough so he can place the divine morsel on your tongue.

Lips closing around his forefinger to suck the last bit of frosting off. Swallowing the bite before nibbling, laving your tongue over the rough pad then sucking gently. Watching him gulp down a breath of air when you let go with a wet pop. “Hmm you have me there love but you’ll have to make it up to me somehow. Especially since someone forgot our goodbye kiss this morning.”

Wrapping his free hand around the back of your neck, fingers gently massaging your skin, “That I will apology for and correct right now.” Slanting his mouth over yours stealing your breath with the tender kiss. Teasing the seam of your mouth till you part your lips, inviting his tongue in to tangle with yours.

Tasting the sweet cream cheese from the warm cavern of your mouth making a deep groan ramble from his chest. Tightening the arm around your plush waist to pull you closer, counters edge bitting into his back but he could care less with you in his arms. Devouring your mouth, expertly dragging another whimper out, biting your bottom lip too sooth with the flat of his tongue causing a gasp to exist. Taking advantage and thrusting his tongue against yours. Drinking from your mouth as a thirsty man searching for water. Wanting to draw out more sounds that never fail to drive him crazy with desire.

Your own hands shooting up to card through those soft locks. Tugging to angle his head just right taking in a bit of air, noses bumping as you take over the kiss. Returning the nip to his tongue getting a hiss in response and a tightening of his grip on your thick waist. Knowing those nimble fingers leave behind bruises only heightens your arousal and want for this man. Air or lack there of becomes needed and you pull away, resting foreheads together as you both gasp to fill your burning lungs.

“Apology accepted,” mumbling the words against his skin. Occupying your lips with tasting his jawline, nibbling a path down to the collars edge. Brushing your nose against his ear, “There’s a way you can make it up to me for stealing my cake.”

Hands drop down to cup your plush ass, giving a squeeze to hear you moan in his ear. Vibrating through his whole body, “And that would be?”

“Be my canvas and let me paint you with the last of the frosting?” Biting the lobe before pulling back to stare at him. “What do ya say Cake Thief?” Mischief making your eyes dance while watching him.

Smirking sliding over his lips, “You’ve got twenty seconds to grab the cake and run sweetheart. Because,” seeing you arch a brow at his words, higher when he pauses to ghost his lips over yours. “If I catch you I’ll be eating you instead of that cake.”

#Marcus Pike x F!Reader #Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader #pedro pascal character's #Pedro Pascal Character's fiction

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tmabigbang · 3 years

Text

Masterpost of TMA Big Bang 2020 Fics

To prevent clogging up anyone’s dash, we have put all of these fics under a read more since there are 28 wonderful fics created for this bang, which makes for a bit of a long post! Below the cut are links and summaries to all the fics created for this bang!

In addition to this post, you can also check out our fic page (which you can find here)! The fic page includes links to all the fics, art, and the team members that helped create them! You can also use some basic filters for rating and oneshot/multichapter to find fics.

Thank you again to all our participants, and we will see you next year!

Your Job’s A Joke (You’re Broke) by @bisexualoftheblade and @desert-lily

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27590578

Summary: Working at the Magnus Institute was stressful by default. With monsters, mayhem, and potential primordial entities, it has very little expectations for being a comfortable job. However, everyone is allowed to have a little fun sometimes - even an archivist, their assistants, and their really creepy boss. Fueled by spite and a rampant lack of heterosexuality, they all try to balance their work life with a bit of fun and a healthy dose of bullying twelve-times divorced Elias Bouchard.

I Know The End by @williammatagot

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27947966

Summary: Except, for all that beautiful poetry, Eliot was wrong, because the world doesn’t end with a bang, sure, but it doesn’t end with a whimper, either. It ends with the distant-yet-deafening voice of the man Martin loves shouting through a ragged, wild throat--I open the door. (The world ends, Jon shatters, and Martin tries to fix it. The house tries, too, in its own way.)

From the Depth of the Spiral by @trickstergod14

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27842941

Summary: Michael had no idea what was going on. He suddenly woke up in the tunnels under the Magnus Institute with no memories of the past seven years after that fateful trip to Sannikov Land. Watch as he slowly spirals into madness, regaining his memories while strengthening his bond with the Distortion along the way. Can he hide all this from the other Archival Assistants? What will happen when Jon wakes up from his coma? And what does the newly crowned Distortion Avatar, Helen, have to do with all this?

Every Word I Say is Kindling (But The Smoke Clears When You’re Around) by @ohnoimdeathing

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27956897

Summary: The unknowing left Jon stirring in the nightmares of others, watching their torment and suffering and making everything worse. He wanted to wake up, to go back to Martin, Tim, Basira, even Daisy. But he didn’t know how to. Until a voice told him to choose Though, to be honest, he doesn’t remember actually making the choice to stay a monster and live rather than be human and die. The only injury the doctors will talk about is his missing eyes, and why are all the doctors Scottish? At least Martin is here.

Spinning ‘Round (like two sides of a coin) by @awayofunderstandingit

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27835756

Summary: Time is a construct. What we know as past, present, and future all exist at the same time, ad infinitum. • Guided not by time but a spoken word poem, follow along the lives of two intertwined souls, Timothy Stoker and Sasha James. The story of their friendship from the time they meet, through growing apart, to when they fall back together, and through their time working at the Magnus Institute. Witness slices of their lives—not memories, memories would suggest the past—as they exist, ad infinitum, even at The End.

retrouvailles by @jet-siquliak

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27818092

Summary: The Magnus Institute burns. The archivist, for all intents and purposes, burned with it. In a dingy hospital room lies what remains - Jonathan sims. weak, powerless, and insignificant. On Jon’s last day in the hospital, Martin awakes from a coma, unscathed. Melanie King kicks the dirt that once housed the institute. Tim stoker wakes up in the middle of nowhere. Elias Bouchard is dead. No one knows where to go from there. Or: the destruction of one home and the making of another.

Still, I’ll Always Keep the Memory by @revolutionnaire-e

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27932125

Summary: [MARTIN turns, stepping out of the shadows towards him. It is blood, not tears. His left eye is not his own. His eyes never shone that blinding green, never shone with such malice or self-satisfied pride.] MARTIN BLACKWOOD Pleasure to see you again, Archivist.

Making Home by @cuddlytogas

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27664805

Summary: After the events in the Panopticon, Jon and Martin rush to leave London. But making their home in an idyllic safe house isn't that easy: between the layer of dust, and Forsaken still clinging to Martin's heels, it could be some time before they reach an understanding.

called your name ‘til the fever broke by @corpsesoldier

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27845161

Summary: Basira made a promise to her partner. At the end of the world, a monster comes and demands she keep it.

assorted family photos by @lesbianbirds

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27903979

Summary: When setting off on a research trip, it is advised that you prepare yourself for certain oddities that may greet you. or; key moments in a world where the entities are weaker and everyone got a bit more therapy

Timothy Stoker’s Guide to Dating by @pezilla

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27841267

Summary: Timothy Stoker has a lot of advice when it comes to matters of the heart, online agony aunt, gossip monger and general love guru. He has a list and he sticks to it. Or he did. That was before he took a job at the Magnus Institute and before he met three of the most fascinating and frustrating people to ever come into his life. Rule #7 under no circumstances fall for a co-worker. Yeah, that rule was starting to become a problem.

Running the Institute by @drowsy-salamander

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27878306

Summary: Caroline Ferguson, the entirety of the Magnus Institute's legal department, is furiously ignoring any weirdness that could be going on in her workplace, from the tech issues to the vanishing colleagues to the everything about Artefact Storage, Caroline will turn a very deliberate blind eye. They're are not her problem. Now if only those murders could also stop.

kindred spirits (not so scarce as I used to think) by @pollylittlehigher-littlelower

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27914821

Summary: An Anne of Green Gables inspired AU, set in modern day England. Jon and Georgie are childhood best friends, but the two stop talking after a falling out. Even doing their best to avoid each other, Georgie struggles to escape him, even while dealing with her own mental health issues and a blossoming romance with her housemate, Melanie. Is Jon truly the kindred spirit she once considered him? Or will the two eventually part ways for good?

Friends of Empty Graves by @artswaps

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27974807

Summary: After the coffin, she cuts her hair. Who is Alice Tonner? People are searching for her in the space she left behind, in the person she was. Daisy looks elsewhere, and tries not to choke.

just let the feeling grow by @ajkal2

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27838447

Summary: Jon is a musician. He plays songs for a living. Except love songs. He doesn't do love songs, and he makes this quite clear with anyone interested in working with him. Except his manager has booked him for a wedding. Without asking. With days before the festivities start, Jon needs help. Desperately. He won't get it from his hosts, the Lukas family. He certainly won't get it from his manager. However, there's a certain amateur poet on the Lukas' staff who has a talent for making love sound genuine.

World Cold and Hard, Moth Boy Warm and Soft by @lcjenkinswriting

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27827491

Summary: Jon, a young moth fairy, leaves the nest in search of a place that feels like home

tapes winding forward by @ghostbustermelanieking

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27858721

Summary: Martin ignores him, stops him mid-sentence to say, "Jon, what have you heard about time travel?" --- Martin and Jon wake up two years in the future. It goes about as well as can be expected.

MAG 26.5: Beach Episode by @ebenrosetaylor

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27882746

Summary: Sasha is aware of the rising tensions in the archives after Martin was stalked by Prentiss and after she had her own encounter with Michael. In an attempt to boost morale and bring them closer together, Tim suggests that they all visit the beach to unwind and get their minds off of all things paranormal. Sasha takes it upon herself to make sure that everyone has fun and relaxes, but she forgets to give herself that luxury.

Rewrite The Rulebook by @radiosandrecordings

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27823774

Summary: "Panic! Bloody panic! I've been out since I was fifteen and never once actually brought someone home. I think I just wanted to seem like I had my life together, y’know? Mainly I just... I think I just wanted someone to be there with me, so I wasn't just alone with her the entire time. A bit of comfort.” There was pause as Martin let out a dramatic sigh, seemingly relieved to ramble out his thoughts. "... I could go with you. If you want."

A Test In Patience by @talking4the1

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27917749

Summary: Elias is going about his day as the new head of the Magnus Institute in 1995. Some spreadsheets to do, meetings to attend mundane and supernatural. Nothing seems out of place until The Eye calls him to Bournemouth.

Of Mothers and Memory by @loverdontleave

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27856585

Summary: There is a story to be told, of two people, a mother and a son. Of their history together, and the sacrifices they made for each other. Perhaps they loved each other once, but that thread of connection has weakened on one end, fraying away. And it is so, so cold.

Would That I Were Golden Dust by @that-one-girl-behind-you

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27734197

Summary: The world is a lot more dangerous with your soul walking by your side, and Entities aren’t shy about feeding on golden Dust.

Till Death, Parted by @bigowlenergy

Ao3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27749680

Summary: Jon gets caught after ripping out Gerry’s page by Trevor & Julia, and through a comedy of errors ends up engaged as an excuse. Somehow, Jon gets out alive, Gerry is freed, and they have the two hunters accompanying them as bodyguards - and as best man and best woman - without a fight. Living alone in Gerry’s London safe house afterwards will be totally fine. Jon is fine. He knows what coping is and everything! Totally fine.

The Spoken Word by @drumkonwords

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802708/chapters/68066326

Summary: Jon wants. Their pinky twitches — stretching and curling to the tune of something musical. The song of wanting, with its motifs of long, low notes. Starting quiet and mumbling up into Jon’s chest until the strings of their heart vibrate like the strings of a double bass and all they can do is wonder who’s tune they’re matching. But they know.

First Aid by @platypik

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27948284

Summary: Jon is certain Martin has been acting strangely all morning. When Martin offhandedly mentions he took a bad tumble off the tube to work, Jon suddenly Knows that the fall had given Martin a nasty fracture. Despite his desperate pleading, Martin stubbornly refuses to let Jon drive him to the hospital. In fact, it seems he would much rather take care of it himself than have Jon worry and fuss over him. Jon would disagree.

Burning Bright, In the Forests of the Night by @triffidsandcuckoos

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27915400

Summary: The safehouse bursts into flames at their backs. You can choose to change the path. Just be ready for what else you might change.

i’ve been static for too long by @furryjefferson

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27887878

Summary: Jonathan Sims ends up with a stranger’s phone on the way home from work. All signs point to the Magnus Institute, and all roads lead to its mysterious archivist: Martin Blackwood.

through the clouds like a moonbeam by @digital-waterfall

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tmabb20/works/27877402

Summary: After passing through the Vast’s domain, Jon is left with an unexpected surprise-- a pair of wings. Unsurprisingly, Martin finds them beautiful. Also unsurprisingly, Jon does not.

#tma big bang 2020 #fic masterpost #the magnus archives #tma

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collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Bay Breeze - ep. 04 - Rafe Cameron

Summary: A good day takes a bad turn.

A/N: Chapter 4 rewrite...hopefully I’ll get the last two chapters out too.

Holiday in the Sun Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

“Rafe!” Ward’s voice traveled through the door in something of a harsh whisper followed by a quick rap at the door.

You pressed your lips against Rafe’s shoulder and closed your eyes, trying not to make too much noise as Ward called through the door once more. Ward’s pounding on the door had startled you awake first and, once you realized where you were, you had woken Rafe though he seemed far less bothered. The last thing you needed was his dad coming in to find the two of you in his bed.

“Rafe, let’s go! Everyone else is already awake and ready!”

“I’ll be right there!” Rafe promised, the volume of his voice so early in the morning a little shocking to your system.

“Where are you going at,” you rolled away to look at your phone on the bedside table, “4:30?” You and Rafe might not’ve known too much about each other but you were fairly certain that nothing about him screamed morning person.

“Fishing.”

“God I hate your family,” you groaned as he pulled you back into him, shifting so that you were beneath him. You tried not to laugh as he pressed kisses into your collarbone and neck, all the way up to your mouth, “stop, you have to go remember?”

As if you had timed it with him, Ward called through the door again, “Rafe!”

“Fuck.” Rafe cursed, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours. He wanted to will his dad away, to prolong the best thing that had happened to him since the last time they took a family trip. If he could have just five more minutes.

You tilted your head back enough that you could kiss him, brushing away longer pieces of his hair that fell in his eyes and moving your hand to hold the back of his neck. Rafe kissed you back eagerly, tongue running along your bottom lip before he bit down on it gently, pulling on your lip as he pulled away.

“I’ll see you later?”

You nodded, humming as he rolled off the bed and hurried to get dressed. Once he was gone, you got out of bed, grabbing your clothes off the ground and slipping them back on before sneaking across the hall to your bedroom. You doubted anyone would think much of finding you wandering around the house except that you were wearing the same outfit you’d been in at dinner and you were leaving Rafe’s room. That would definitely raise a few eyebrows, not to mention it would out Topper and Sarah as sharing a room.

It wasn’t until you were back in your bedroom, changed into actual pajamas, that you realized you had forgotten your phone in Rafe’s room. It was still sitting where you left it on the nightstand. You could leave it and chance going in when everyone was awake or go back in now. You got out of bed and snuck back into his room, swiping your phone off the nightstand.

“Rafe went fishing with the guys.” Wheezie piped up from behind you and you jumped, turning to the door to find her standing there with the flashlight from her phone shining into the dark room.

“I know,” you replied, “I was just coming t get my phone, I left it in here.”

“When?” Wheezie asked, walking further into her brother’s bedroom as you clutched your phone to your stomach. This kid needed to pursue a career in the FBI at this rate.

“What?”

“When did you leave it in here? Last night?” She continued the interrogation, flashlight shining at your face for a moment before she lowered it, “I saw you and Rafe go into his room last night.”

“Uh, yeah, we were...talking.” You offered, not sure why you felt the need to justify yourself to a kid.

“I’m not stupid, you know. I’m thirteen.” Wheezie said, fixing you with a surprisingly icy glare for someone her age. “Did you have sex with my brother?”

“Whoa, okay...listen Wheezie, whatever I do or don’t do with your brother is not your business.” You replied, walking passed her out of his room. There was no way you were going to discuss your sexual history with the youngest Cameron

“Where are you going?” She asked, turning off her flashlight and following you down the hall toward your room.

“My bedroom, can I go to my bedroom?” You said, turning around to look at her. A pout on her face similar to the one that Rafe gave when he didn’t get his way, “What?”

“I can’t sleep.”

You sighed, “okay, come on, we can watch a movie or something.”

“Can we watch gossip girl?”

“Are you allowed to watch gossip girl?” you asked, holding the door open for her to walk into your room.

“I’m 13!”

“Just checking,” you laughed.

Wheezie climbed up on your bed, settling back against the headrest like she was in her own room while you grabbed your laptop off the nightstand and set it up between the two of you. Gossip Girl had been an obsession of yours for a significant enough amount of time that you owned all the seasons.

“You’re from New York, aren’t you?” Wheezie asked, looking over at you as the first episode started, Penn Badgley’s unfortunate hair cut coming into view.

“No, I’m from Connecticut.” You replied, “we’re kinda close but not New York, definitely not their New York.”

“Do you like it?”

“What?”

“Where you’re from?” She asked. Geography was not Wheezie’s strong suit but she definitely knew Connecticut, and New York for that matter, were far from the Outer Banks. “Do you like it or would you ever go somewhere else?”

“Well, I’m 17 so legally, I can’t just leave my house. Plus I’m still in high school.” You replied, “but yeah, I guess I like it. Why?”

“Cause if you date Rafe he’ll be in the Outer Banks and you’ll be up in Connecticut and if you don’t come down he’ll move up there-”

“Whoa, slow your roll Wheez, no one is moving anywhere.” You assured, “and your brother and I aren’t really...dating.”

It didn’t really matter what you said about it. Wheezie had been giving a lot of thought to the distance between you and her brother ever since she caught you kissing the day before. If you were dating her brother and he moved away to be close to you, because he could, she would be alone with Sarah, Ward and Rose. Not the worst thing in the world to happen but she was partial to Rafe over the rest of her family.

Her freaking out thinking about you and Rafe dating wasn’t helping your internalized freak out trying not to think about the two of you being together and what that could possibly mean.

“Do you wanna date him?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” you replied honestly. Right now was fun and you had always dreamed of Rafe liking you the way you liked him. But you weren’t sure if it was that thirteen year old in you finally feeling like she mattered or if the two of you really had something as natural as it felt. Did you like him because you liked him or because he liked you? “I don’t really know that much about your brother, to be honest. We haven’t seen each other in four years.”

“You could get to know him.” Wheezie replied. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the two of you possible dating or her brother catching feelings for someone but she did know that she liked you and that Rafe had been considerably nicer this trip. It was rare that Rafe be this happy when Ward was always around but Wheezie was definitely benefiting from the positive mood boost.

You and Wheezie fell asleep before the first episode was even finished, ragging on the ridiculousness of the plot and talking about how creepy Chuck was. By the time you woke up again your mom was talking about going shopping. There was no arguing the matter either, with the guys gone for the day Rose had decreed shopping as the go-to solution.

“I hate shopping.” Wheezie mentioned, following you and Sarah through one of the small stores along the shopping district. It was filled with all the cheesy tourist stuff that made gift shops so profitable, Sarah nabbing a couple of bathing suits to try on.

“Maybe we can go to the beach later or something Wheez?” Sarah suggested, clutching her findings to her chest as she turned to look back at you and her sister, “for now, just try to appease Rose so dad doesn’t throw a fit later. I’m gonna try these on.”

“Why do you hate shopping?” You asked, thumbing through a rack of coverups.

“Cause my mom is always like, ‘no, don’t wear that, wear this, it’s more feminine’ and it’s always something ugly.” Wheezie replied, pitching her voice to mock Rose.

“Trust me, that never ends.” You replied, “but we’ll hide from them, promise.”

“Who are you hiding from?” Rafe’s voice sounded from behind you, his hands gripping your waist, “sup Wheez?”

Wheezie’s smile grew at the sight of her brother, a little bit of the afternoon saved now that he had shown up. “Rose forced us to come shopping.” She looked passed him to Topper, “Sarah went to the dressing room in the back.”

“Thanks.” He nodded, heading back through the racks of clothing to find his girlfriend.

“What are you guys doing back? I thought you were ‘spending the day’ on the boat?” You asked, twisting out of Rafe’s grip, suddenly conscious of the position with Wheezie around. You didn’t need any more interrogative questions from the youngest Cameron. You definitely didn’t need her spying on you at four in the morning to determine whether you were dating her brother. There was enough confusion around your feelings that you didn’t need to make sense of them for a thirteen-year-old.

“It was overcast.” He shrugged, “my dad decided to turn around. Rose told us you guys were here and I just followed the sound of Wheezie bitching,” he teased, ruffling his sister’s hair.

“Stop it!” She jerked away from him, trying to fix her hair.

“I’m just teasing.” He laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. Wheezie stuck her tongue out at him as she passed the two of you, walking over to where Ward had just come in. Rafe watched them for a second before turning back to you, ever mischievous grin on his face. “So, Top and I were thinking that the four of us could take the boat out tonight.”

“Tonight?” You echoed, trying to keep your attention on the rack of brightly colored cover-ups and not on Rafe. It was useless really, you could feel his presence as he stood there, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to give him some sort of yes or no. “Why tonight?”

“Midnight swim.” He replied easily, “boat’s got lights, it’d be chill.”

“What if we get caught?” You asked, finally looking up at him.

“Get caught by who?” He asked, grinning, “it’s my dad’s boat. Him and Rose’ll be sleeping and so will your parents.”

“Fine but I better not get into any trouble.” You replied.

“I swear,” he made a motion of crossing his heart, “no trouble babe.”

You hummed, pulling a cover-up off the rack and heading for the changing rooms in the back of the store. Rafe was about to follow you when Wheezie called him over, asking if he would walk her down to get smoothies because no one else wanted to go.

“Get me one!” You called over your shoulder as you.

The yacht that they took out that morning, that you were standing in now, was imposing but not unfamiliar. You could remember a trip out in it with Rafe, Sarah, and Scarlett when you were thirteen.

Topper offered to drive the yacht out of the dock and Sarah had gone up with him, leaving you and Rafe alone again. You weren’t sure if he planned it that way or if that was just how your luck was going lately but you didn’t fight it, standing in the middle of the lounge area, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet.

“What’s with the face?” Rafe joked, grabbing a beer from the mini-fridge.

“I don’t have a face.”

“Yeah,” he sat on the couch, the very definition of man-spreading, “you do. It’s your ‘I don’t like this’ face.”

“Last time I was on this boat Scarlett told me I looked like a fat troll in my bathing suit.” You replied, walking close enough to him that he could pull you onto his lap. You grabbed the back of the beige leather couch as you fell against him and he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“I don’t remember that,” he admitted, “but I’m sure Scarlett was just being a bitch.”

“I don’t know, I was pretty rough back then.”

“Yeah okay,” he rolled his eyes, “well, you look gorgeous now.”

“You’re really good at giving compliments, you know that?” You teased, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“How long do you think they’ll be up there?” He asked, nodding his head toward the ceiling before leaning toward you, placing a kiss against your jaw. He continued kissing your neck and you shifted on his lap, angling yourself away from him a little.

“Not long enough, I’m sure. I thought we were supposed to be swimming anyway.” You replied.

“Yeah, once we get away from the coast.” He said, trying to kiss you again. When you tried to move out of his lap, he tightened his grip on your waist, “nice try.”

“I thought so,” you laughed. You finally surrendered, kissing him and brushing your hand through his hair and down to the back of his neck. Rafe deepened the kiss, tongue slipping in your mouth as his hand slid up under your cover-up. Before you could go any further you heard footsteps rushing down the stairs from the deck and pulled away, standing up.

Rafe laid his head back against the couch and groaned as Topper came into view. “Hey guys, hate to interrupt but we got a problem.”

“What do you mean ‘a problem’?” Rafe asked at the same time that you turned to him, eyes narrowed.

“You swore no trouble.”

“What kind of problem Top?” Rafe asked, getting up and leaving his beer on the table as he followed Topper out onto the lower deck, you right behind them. Sarah had come down as well and she was standing there, watching as three coast guard boats got close enough to turn on their sirens, calling for the yacht to kill it’s engine.

“Is that the coast guard?” You said, leaning over the railing, “Rafe!”

“Shut up, let me think.” He snapped, waving you off.

“You guys told dad you were taking the yacht right?” Sarah piped up, looking at her brother as Topper ran up to cut the engine, “did you tell dad?”

“Shut up Sarah.”

“My brother,” Sarah said, turning to you, “so glad you decided to hook up with him, aren’t you?”

“Sarah! Shut the fuck up!” Rafe shouted.

“Just fucking stop talking, both of you!” Topper cursed as he came back down the steps. He looked over at you apologetically, as if he was used to this kind of thing, and rubbed your back, “it’ll be fine.”

“This is not fine.”

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ghostgothgeek · 3 years

Text

Blush. Chapter 7

Hello! Finally another update!

Rated M for language and actual sex ed talk.

FFN || AO3

---

“Hey guys,” Sam smiled warmly at her two friends as she shut her locker. “How’s it going on your end?”

Danny didn’t look directly at her, but muttered a “hey”.

Tucker snickered next to him. “Oh, I think Danny is having the time of his life!” Danny elbowed him in the ribs, “Ow! Hey, I even used a life or death pun for you!”

“That bad, huh?” Sam laughed. “Can’t say I’m doing any better though. By the way, Danny, I’m going to have to...warn you about a few things. Your secret is still safe, but there’s still going to be gossip about you. Both of your halves.” Sam shut her brain down before she went back to that fantasy. “Sorry, I really tried. The girls at this school are indubitably so fucking stupid, they wouldn’t know what the actual truth is, even if it bit them on the nose. Honestly, how they even made it to twelfth grade is beyond me.”

Tucker noticed Sam getting all worked up and frowned. “Hey, the day’s almost over though!”

“Huh? Wait, what do you mean gossip?” Danny finally looked up at her.

“Ugh, Paulina has some twisted thoughts.” Sam rubbed the sides of her head as she tried to calm down. “She’s been the biggest pain in the ass all day. Just be prepared for any gossip that Phantom flies commando, and know that I tried to stop it.”

Danny’s eyes went wide, “why would they-?”

Tucker busted out laughing, “You HAVE to tell me how that happened!”

“Ugh guys, please not now.” She grabbed each of their shirts and pulled them towards the cafeteria.

“Man, I wish I had my PDA! I hate being out of the loop!” Tucker complained.

Sam unpeeled her banana, trying to ignore any innuendos and return to normalcy, as she listened to Tucker’s bellyaching. She took a large bite as her stomach growled. If Skulker hadn’t shown up on the way to school, she probably would have been able to actually grab some breakfast before this whole ordeal. Sure, she had a salad waiting for her, but that wasn’t going to cut it today.

“Damn, look at Manson deep throating that banana like a pro!” Dash quirked. Danny snapped his head to look over at Sam. Oh god. Woah...wait NO!

Without missing a beat, Sam chucked her half eaten banana at Dash, hitting him directly in the face. She smiled proudly as Tucker chuckled next to her.

“Nice shot, Sam!” Tucker held his hand out for a high five, which Sam returned. Dash made an attempt to take a jab at her, but Kwan stopped him. Kwan had to protect both of his “best friends”, after all.

Danny was silent, unable to comprehend his enjoyment of Dash’s misery at Sam’s behalf. That’s my girl, he had thought. Ugh, why? Why did he keep coming back to this? Sam is just a friend. Dash’s dumbass comment just stirred the pot even more. Now Danny had a new fantasy about his best friend to worry about. He looked over at Sam again and blushed before quickly looking away. With the amount of times he’s blushed today, he didn’t think it was possible anymore. And what is she talking about with all these rumors?

Tucker nudged Danny with his elbow and raised an eyebrow at him as Sam caught up with Valerie and raced for the salad bar. “You okay? I thought you’d always dreamt of Sam hitting Dash in the face.” Tucker laughed to himself. “I know I certainly have.”

“Not the only dream of Sam I have…” Danny muttered to himself.

“What?” Tucker looked at his friend again.

“What?” Danny looked back at him confused, grabbing a tray after Tucker.

“What was that now?” Tucker smirked as he grabbed two burgers. Terrific, Tucker had heard him after all.

“Nothing,” Danny said sternly before grabbing some mac n cheese.

“Uh huh.” Tucker’s smirk grew as he piled more food onto his plate.

“It’s nothing!” Danny insisted as he grabbed the rest of his food and followed Tucker to their table.

“Alright, alright. Calm down dude.” Tucker sat down and immediately took a bite of one of his burgers.

“Sorry,” Danny sighed. “Between dumbass number one and dumbass number two over there,” he pointed towards Elliot and Dash, “I’m not thinking straight.”

Tucker nodded and swallowed as Danny took a sip of his drink. Tucker looked over at Sam, pursed his lips, then paused for a moment before saying, “you know, Sam is actually pretty hot, now that I think about it.”

Danny spit his drink out across the table and started coughing. “What?!”

“Oh relax, I’m not gonna steal your girlfriend or anything,” Tucker rolled his eyes as Danny muttered some “she’s not my girlfriend” line. “I’m just saying. I mean, she’s super cool and fun to hang with, she looked great at the freshman dance, and she already has made mini skirt Friday an everyday kind of deal! Like if she just lost the tights or whatever, holy smokes. And like, dude, she has boobs. BOOBS. We’ve been so close this entire time!”

Danny caught his breath and scoffed at Tucker before realizing he kind of had a point. If Danny had learned anything that day, it was that he definitely had conflicting feelings about Sam. It wouldn’t surprise him if other guys started noticing her more as well. Actually, they had, if you counted dumbass number one and dumbass number two.

Danny forced out a small laugh, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I mean, I kinda…” He trailed off before getting a nod of encouragement from Tucker, silently letting it be known that this conversation was strictly between them and would most likely never be repeated again. “I mean, she’s Sam and she’s so pretty and smart and cool and she hangs out with us, like what the hell? And I ran into her in the hallway earlier after dealing with Johnny 13, and I was bleeding and stuff and her boobs were like, right there in my face while she was trying to help me and with all this dumb sex talk, I had to run to the bathroom before anything happened or became noticeable. I’ve been embarrassed more than enough for one day.”

Tucker let out a loud laugh and slapped Danny on the back. “Damn, dude. I didn’t think you’d ever admit anything.” Danny’s hand immediately went to rub the back of his neck and his face turned crimson for the millionth time that day. “So you ran into Sam, huh?” Tucker wagged his eyebrows suggestively and laughed again when Danny threw a fry at his face. “Don’t worry, dude. I still respect the bro code. I won’t say a word. But like, excusing the fact that she’s like a sister to me for a second, what were they like?”

Danny opened his mouth as he thought of something to say, before jerking forward after Dash slapped him on the back (hard) and took a seat next to him. “You’re talking about Manson, right? She is pretty hot. You’re a lucky man, Fenton.”

Was Dash actually...being nice to him? Because he thought that he and Sam were actually...doing things together. What the fuck was happening today?

“What’s she like? Really?” Dash stole one of Danny’s fries.

“She’s definitely feisty, that’s for sure.” Elliot smirked as he sat across from Danny. This asshole again?!

Danny made tight fists under the table. “Shut the fuck up and leave Sam alone! You guys dated for like a week! That’s nothing!”

“It was enough to cover all of the bases, if you know what I mean. And I’m pretty sure you know what I mean.” Elliot smirked while holding up his phone with the picture on it and leaned back in the chair, nearly falling over as Danny stood quickly from the table, shaking it in the process. He was ready to pounce.

“Shut. The fuck. Up,” Danny growled as he got all up in Elliot’s face. Elliot accepted the challenge.

“No, I don’t think I will. But what I do think will happen is me and Sam again.”

Dash raised an eyebrow at the two boys arguing, “What’s with this? Is Manson like, secretly a sex goddess or something? Maybe I’ll hop on that too.”

Danny’s eyes flashed green for a brief second before almost being knocked over by Tucker, who shoved him out of the way.

“You have a phone?! How did you sneak that in? Can I please have it for five minutes? Please?!” Tucker made a grab for the phone as Elliot held it behind him.

“Depends. What kind of dirt do you have on Danny and Sam?”

“Oh man, where do I start?”

“TUCKER!” Danny glared at his friend, not believing he was actually considering this.

“Oh man, this I gotta hear.” Dash leaned in for a better listen.

“Okay, one timeback in middle school, Danny-” Tucker’s sentence was muffled as Danny slapped his hand over Tucker’s mouth.

“Shut the fuck up!” Danny hissed.

“Oh no, please go on,” Elliot smirked as he waved his phone in the air, “You may just buy yourself 2 minutes.” He tried removing Danny’s hand from Tucker’s mouth.

“Get lost, Elliot.” Danny stood from the table and stared him down again. “Tucker isn’t that desperate.”

“Eh, I think he is,” Dash chimed in. “Foley looks like he’s about to shit a brick.” All three boys looked at Dash, just now remembering he was there.

Across the cafeteria, Sam raised an eyebrow at the crowd around their usual table and looked back at Valerie. “Thanks again for having my back in there. I really owe you one.”

“Nonsense. If anything, take it as repayment for how much you guys have saved my ass from ghosts. And for me trying to kill your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, but thanks.” Sam grabbed a tomato from her salad bowl and popped it in her mouth. “Hey Val, do you want to sit with us?”

Valerie grinned, “Love to, thanks. And he’s not your boyfriend yet. I’ll help get you there.”

Sam laughed. “Okay, sure. We really should hang out more, you know. I need a boost of estrogen every once in a while.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Valerie stopped in place for a moment, staring at the guys at their table. Sam followed where Valerie was looking and ran closer to her friends.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Sam yelled as they approached the group of guys who were trying to tackle each other across the table. Danny and Elliot were staring each other down as Elliot held his phone as far back behind him as he could while Tucker, half on top of the table, reached for it. Dash was actually the most civil at the table. They all paused and fell silent as she spoke up. All four of them were staring at her with a weird expression on their faces. “What?” She questioned cautiously, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious. Valerie snickered to herself, taking a wild guess as to what (or who) the boys had been arguing about.

“Uh, nothing.” Danny forced Tucker back into his chair and sat back down next to him. “They were just leaving.” He glared at Elliot.

When the faux goth and the jock refused to move, Sam slammed her tray down on the table. “Get the fuck out of here before I start kicking people. I have my good boots on today.”

Elliot was the first to make a move to leave. “Told ya, feisty.”

Dash stood as well as he looked Sam up and down. Actually not that bad. Fortunately, Sam missed that, but Danny hadn’t. He was practically seeing red as Dash returned to his own table.

“We’ll talk after lunch!” Tucker whispered to Elliot as he passed by on the way back to the other end of the cafeteria.

“What was that all about?” Sam sat down and stabbed her salad with her fork before taking a bite.

“Elliot and Dash are being shitheads and pushing all of Danny’s buttons today,” Tucker announced as he started his second burger.

“Do I wanna know?”

“No.” Danny picked at his food, shutting down that conversation.

Valerie sat down next to Sam and across from Tucker. Noticing his fidgeting, she smirked, “Must be a tough day for you, huh? No technology of any sort?”

Tucker groaned, “It’s killing me! It may actually kill me!”

“Stop being so dramatic, it’s only been a few hours and we’re almost done,” Sam pointed her fork towards Tucker, “You wouldn’t believe all the shit I’ve had to go through today.”

Danny looked up at her, “What happened? Are you okay? Did anyone say anything to you?” He glanced over towards the A Listers’ table, where everyone was passing around Elliot’s stupid phone and making crude noises and gestures towards Danny when they noticed him staring. He flushed again.

“Chill, I’m fine. I’m just apparently the school’s gossip victim for the day.”

“Yeah, Paulina has been pretty ruthless today,” Valerie pointed out as she started her lunch.

“Fuck!” Sam groaned, which gave a certain part of Danny’s anatomy some life again. “I got salad dressing all over my leggings.” She started unlacing her boots.

“W-what are you doing?” Danny squeaked.

“Taking them off. I don’t want to smell like vinaigrette for the rest of the day,” she started peeling off her leggings and with a brief hand from Valerie, she crumbled them into a ball and tossed them into her backpack before she started lacing up her boots again, careful not to lift her legs too high for anyone to accidentally see anything.

Tucker’s eyes widened slightly, as if his conversation with Danny earlier had somehow summoned this to occur. He looked at Danny and raised an eyebrow as if proving his point.

“Don’t even think about it,” Danny warned lowly.

Valerie hid her smirk behind her hand as Danny gripped the table. Danny and Sam were both smitten with each other and both so, so oblivious to the other person’s feelings.

“Anyway, uh...yeah, you’re probably going to hear some gossip, just please know it’s not my fault.” Sam sighed and took another bite of her salad. “Honestly, how I have gone almost 4 years without seriously injuring Paulina is beyond me.”

“I’ll admit, I’m a little shocked too. But you definitely wanted to deck her after she said you were cheating on Fenton with Phantom,” Valerie chuckled as Sam whipped her head towards her and sent her a menacing glare. Valerie just shrugged, knowing damn well what she was doing. Danny and Sam just needed a little nudge, and she was gonna give it to them.

“Oh my god, WHAT?!” Tucker burst out laughing, some of his soda coming out of his nose in the process. Gross.

Danny’s head snapped up as a light pink blush dusted his cheeks. “Uh, w-what? Paulina thinks...you and I...and you and Phantom?”

Sam groaned as she set her empty tupperware container back into her backpack. “Yes, Princess Shit-For-Brains thinks I’m intimate with both sides of you.”

“At the same time?” Danny asked.

“Oh I don’t need to hear this!” Tucker covered his ears.

Sam kept her head down, hair covering her face, as she blushed a deep dark red. “I tried to stop it, I swear.”

“Suuuureeee you did. I bet you hated that implication,” Tucker smirked.

Sam managed to whack him in the back of the head from across the table, nearly giving Danny another pleasantly unfortunate view once again.

“Hey! When I said I wished girls would hit on me, this is not what I meant!” Tucker rubbed the back of his head and readjusted his beret.

Sam smirked. “Be careful what you wish for. Desiree can pop up at any moment.” Tucker’s eyes widened.

“Desiree?” Valerie whispered.

“Genie ghost. Gotta be super careful around her,” Sam replied. Valerie nodded.

“I...uh, okay...well, thanks? For...trying to stop it?” Danny said uncertainly. He had noticed in the past that when he was Phantom, his emotions definitely were stronger and he had always felt more overprotective of Sam. As Phantom, he almost seemed to have less control over his emotions.

“No problem,” Sam muttered quietly.

“Okay, but can you please explain the “Phantom goes commando” thing?” Tucker leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table.

Danny hiccuped, and to his relief, it was his ghost sense. Oh thank god. He stood up, receiving a few looks from the other tables.

“I gotta run, I need to...basically die of embarrassment elsewhere,” Danny said slowly. Nobody seemed to think much of the phrasing. Though Tucker and Sam both immediately caught on.

“I’ll come help you not die,” Sam replied. Anything to get out of this situation. She elbowed Tucker before standing as well. “Come on, we need to help Danny not die.” Tucker waved her off, as Valerie finally understood what was happening.

“You two lovebirds go on ahead,” he told them, “they’ve got this,” he whispered to Valerie. Danny narrowed his eyes at him.

“Don’t go around telling a bunch of our secrets,” Danny spoke with an underlying threatening tone. Tucker nodded.

“Of course. But you are losing your fries,” he informed him, and the teen helped himself to the remaining fries on Danny’s plate. Danny accepted this, and he motioned for Sam to follow him. “Also…” Tucker threw a condom at Danny. Danny shot him a look and let the condom bounce off of his chest and land on the floor. Sam hastily grabbed her backpack, and they both fast-walked out of the cafeteria, earning several stares and eyebrow wags.

Danny groaned, “Ugh, fuck me!” He was sick of this.

“Damn, well now we know who initiates it. Never pictured Fenton to be the dominant one,” Dash laughed. Danny growled and began to turn around before Sam pushed him forward and out of the cafeteria.

“Not now. We probably have Kitty and I assume Johnny to worry about right now.” Once out of the cafeteria, Sam pulled out her wrist ray and put it on. She searched for her pocket knife in her boot, pulling out the Ecto Lipstick Laser by accident. “Ahh!” She dropped it as if it had been on fire and watched it roll down the hallway. Danny raised an eyebrow at her. “Nothing!” She quickly replied as she ran forward to grab the weapon and put it back in her boot. “It’s just the Ecto Lipstick! I swear!” She said a little too loudly. God damn the Fentons for making their inventions look like vibrators. God damn Planned Parenthood for pointing that out in the first place.

“I know?” Danny raised an eyebrow at her as they rounded a corner. “Let’s just get rid of Johnny and Kitty and hope that takes up the rest of the day.”

“Oh, there you two are!” Speak of the fucking devils.

Danny flinched as he turned to see the ghostly pair that had been harassing them both all day. Kitty and Johnny stood together, both grinning excitedly.

“Can’t you guys just go fuck around with each other and stop fucking around with us?” Danny complained. Kitty gave a small scowl.

“We’re trying to help,” Kitty insisted. “I know Johnny already talked to you, but I’m pretty sure he left out some important stuff, like make sure you wash your hands. Clip and file your nails so that they’re not sharp or super long, make sure your hands aren’t freezing. Foreplay is very important.”

Danny wanted to die. He glanced at Sam, who seemed to mirror his emotions. Her face was red, and she wasn’t even looking at the pair, instead digging through her backpack. Likely in search of the Fenton Thermos.

Johnny gave an amused scoff, and he waved his hand. “Nah, it’s not that important,” he replied. Kitty shot him a look that could re-kill Pariah Dark himself. Johnny instantly seemed to realize his mistake.

“Yes. It. Is,” she spoke through gritted teeth.

“I mean, we could overshadow you to show you how it’s done if you want,” Johnny suggested.

Danny and Sam both froze, eyes wide, and turned a brilliant shade of red before spitting out objections.

“NO! Nope! Not necessary!” Danny yelled as he covered his eyes, thinking that would somehow block the mental images in his head. “I can’t...Sam...ughhh. No, gross.”

“Well don’t seem too excited now,” Sam spat sarcastically, rolling her eyes in the process.

“N-no! It’s not that I wouldn’t want...I mean you’re pretty and...I like...I mean, you...what do I mean?” Danny groaned and dragged his hands down his face.

“Oh, dude,” Johnny shook his head, “don’t go there unless you want to be sleeping on the couch.”

“But I-” Danny started until Sam slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Chill out, Romeo. Now is not the time to remove your foot from your mouth.” She removed her hand before Danny licked it. That was something Danny and Tucker did. Ugh, boys.

“Nice touch ditching the tights though. You definitely had boys’ heads turning...even a few girls’.” Kitty tried to get them back on track.

“Uh, what?” Sam looked down at her legs.

“Yeah, even that big blonde sporty kid was saying some pretty graphic things about you,” Johnny added.

“WHAT?!” Danny snapped his head back towards the cafeteria.

“Oh that hit a nerve! Jealousy works, you know. That’s how I keep bringing Kitten back to me,” Johnny grinned.

Kitty rolled her eyes, “Yes, that is exactly what happens.” Her sarcasm was almost as good as Sam’s.

Danny completely ignored the ghosts bickering, focusing his attention on Sam. “Did you hear that? DASH was talking about you like that! I’m gonna kill him…” He trailed off as he made a fist and looked back towards the cafeteria.

“Danny, chill. It’s not a big deal. Dash isn’t into me because I spilled salad dressing on my tights,” Sam rolled her eyes and set her hand on Danny’s shoulder to bring him back down to Earth.

Danny swapped his attention back to her. “Uh, no...look, I mean, you’re very attractive and you’re only wearing a crop top and a mini skirt, it’s an easy step away from imagining you naked.” Sam raised an eyebrow as she put a hand on her hip. “N-not that I am imagining that, and not that I wouldn’t want to! I mean of course I’d want to, it’s just - you’re just….I’m going to stop talking now.” He glanced down at the floor and hoped he could somehow dig himself out of this pit that he just kept digging deeper for himself.

Sam pressed her lips together, both amused and flattered with only a hint of embarrassment, “You think I’m very attractive?”

“And he wants to see you naked,” Johnny added.

Danny’s eyes widened before he snatched the thermos from Sam’s hand, his face burning. “Alright that’s enough of you two!” He promptly sucked them into the thermos, spitefully shaking it a bit before putting it into his locker. “They can sit there the whole weekend for all I care.”

“Do you though? Think I’m attractive?” Sam asked shyly. “I feel like you and Tucker just see me as one of the boys and that’s how everyone sees me. I’m not cute like Paulina and Star.” She saw the panicky look on his face and smiled a bit, “I’m not going to hurt you if you answer this one. You have a free pass.”

Danny looked like he was having an internal debate in his head about whether or not she was telling the truth about letting him off the hook, but when he looked into her eyes, he knew she really wanted an answer. He never would have guessed that Sam was a bit insecure. He gulped before rubbing the back of his neck.

“Uh…” Was he really about to admit this? Out loud? To himself? To her?! He couldn’t help it, she was giving him a free pass. He started at her pale legs and trailed his eyes up her body to her perfect hips, pausing at her breasts for a few half seconds longer than he probably should have, and finally setting on her face. “Yes,” he choked out, his voice husky, “very much so.”

Sam relaxed a bit at his answer, feeling relieved. She smiled softly as she approved of his answer, and then that smile became quite sinister. “And you want to see me naked?”

Danny was a deer in the headlights, opening his mouth to speak before deciding against it. He couldn’t tell if this was still part of the free pass or if she was just fucking with him now. He was mostly sure it was the latter. He grabbed her hand and yanked her down the hallway towards the classroom. “Yeah okay, don’t wanna be late for that sex ed class!”

Sam laughed heartily as he hastily fast walked them from one personal hell to another.

#Tucker is my favorite part of this entire chapter #Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Sam Manson #Tucker Foley #fic #stephanie writes sometimes

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whatissleepeven · 4 years

Text

I -

I can't stop thinking about it -

About what, you ask?

An Obey Me! and Fate/Grand Order crossover

(Warning: Long post ahead!)

Either the bois get summoned to Chaldea or they're able to summon Servants themselves

(...I'm leaning towards the first)

The tomfoolery! The shenanigans!

Imagine: Humanity's Last Master (aka you) ends up summoning them as they trek through Rome with Mash and the Servants they already summoned

They set up the summoning circle, but one minor mistake is made and the summoning glow looks a bit darker than usual and BOOM

"S-...Senpai...is this normal?"

You have no idea what's normal or not, I mean you're time travelling to save your people for fucks sake -

"Servant of the Rider Class. My True Name is Lucifer. Do not expect me to cater to your every whim."

...Wait he's a what now??

They were not supposed to have this whole "Class" thing designated to them (it's not how demonic summoning works he swears), and yet they do for some reason

(You can tell I had fun thinking of their Classes)

The introductions are...cold, to say the least

"Saber Class Servant, and none other than The Great Mammon, Avatar of Greed! I got better things to be doing, so don't go calling me whenever ya want, got it?!"

"Lancer Class...Leviathan. I have an mmorpg raid coming up, so I can't stick around."

"Berserker Class. My name is Satan. What? Are you surprised that I seem calm for a Berserker? It's quite alright; I get that reaction often enough. A word of advice: Be careful what you wish for."

"My name is Asmodeus, but you can call me Asmo darling! I'm a Caster, which is good. I can't mess up the work done on my nails and hair!"

"Hm...Oh? Sorry, I was thinking about lunch. Servant Class: Ruler. I'm Beelzebub, but most people call me Beel. Do you have any snacks on you?"

"Servant Class: Avenger. My name is Belphegor, but I doubt you'll be alive long enough to remember that. I won't do your dirty work for you, human."

You are just...done at that point. You are literally carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders and their attitudes are not helping

"Yeah, yeah, here's the gist: there's a war going on and we're trying to save the planet. The future's been incinerated, and it's our job to fix what went wrong. I don't have time for your uncooperation; get on board."

(Mash is worried for your mental health)

It takes some time, but they do manage to open up to you

The main catalyst for this is when they heard you talking to Robin Hood, who was summoned in France

"Say, Master...I gotta ask: Why are you doing this?"

You pause what you're doing, shooting him an incredulous look. "You mean saving the world?" You ask in return.

He shrugs, tilting his head forward in a slight nod. "Yeah. There's other people who could do this, aren't there?"

"There isn't." The brothers hear you say firmly. Beel almost went in because he wanted a snack, but the others held him back; the conversation had peaked their interest, and they wanted to hear what you had to say.

"Robin..." Your voice comes out strained, as if you were barely holding yourself together. "I watched innocent people die in front of me. Good people. The world outside is gone. I can't even go see my family, because they're dead. I'm not expecting you to understand, but it hurts so bad that somedays I don't feel like getting up. If I die, it's all over; humanity's done. I'll never be able to see my family's smiles again, I'll never be able to hear their laughter; I'll...I'll never be able to go back home.

"So, instead of asking why I'm doing this, you should be asking "How far are you willing to go?" instead."

Robin is silent for a while. Mammon shifts on his feet. The Green Archer finally speaks, somber but curious tone filling the air. "And? What's the verdict, Master?"

Your voice has a tone of finality to it that shoots them back to the past, back towards the Celestial War. It's final, but it's tired. "Whatever it takes."

(And, so, the brothers come to understand and even sympathize with your situation a little bit. You had to fight for the sake of others without rest, you were a leader, you were a savior, but most of all...you were alone. And something about that didn't sit right with them.)

They would fit in perfectly with Chaldea's dynamics, actually

Mammon has a gold sword he lovingly calls Goldie (yes it changes into his beloved credit card)

His Noble Phantasm is literally him raising his sword and mountains of Grimm burying his opponents from the sky as he cackles out:

"Don't worry, I'll take all that money off ya hands!"

Or, in a proud declaration:

"My sword is my love, and my love is my sin. I'll take all that you have on ya! STULTUS IN AVARITA!!"

(Translates (from Google) to "Greed of the Fool")

(It also gives you an increased drop rate in materials)

Leviathan's weapon is his trident

He's surprised that he wasn't summoned as a Rider, once he got used to the "Class" thing (which was fairly quick, he's seen an anime like this before). I mean, he has a giant snake named Henry 1.0 and Lothan that he would've loved to fight side by side with

He usually doesn't fight, but he proves to be invaluable in Okeanos since he has knowledge on war strategies at sea

His Noble Phantasm is a bit strange, but endearing (sad). He rushes forward with his trident glowing, saying either:

"I can't get the latest Ruri-chan merch because you blew up the world...I won't forgive you. I can't forgive you!"

Or, in a somber tone:

"Even though it's fun, a gamer's life becomes stifling if you keep playing by yourself. I hope you're watching, (Y/N)! EX SOLA INVIDIA!!"

(Translates (from Google) to "Envy of the Lonely")

(Chance of Death increases with Overcharge, and it hits a single enemy)

Satan? Even though he's a Berserker, he behaves more like a Caster (initially)

He's holding a book that shoots out beams of pure energy at his opponents

His Noble Phantasm is...more violent

"Ah, so you've decided to call upon my Noble Phantasm...don't blame me if it's too much for you."

Or, he begins in a deathly calm voice:

"I am me; that's all I need to be. I know this, so why...? Why does this happen? TELL ME! "

He discards his books altogether, grabbing a single enemy with his bare hands and ripping them to shreds.

Asmo’s skill is charming his enemy, which confuses most people since you’d think it’d be his Noble Phantasm

Instead, it boosts his allies’ attacks and NP by 30%

“Don’t get too hurt out there~!”

Beel’s Noble Phantasm heals all allies and increases their attack

“We can’t fight on an empty stomach.”

(Once he hits his last Ascension, your party gets the added bonus of him attacking a single enemy with a lance. All other Ascensions has him using his fists for attacks.)

Belphie’s Noble Phantasm is almost as violent as Satan’s, and yes...he chokes out a single enemy out (rip MC)

“HA! You think I’d work with the likes of you, a lowly human? Get out of my sight.”

It’s Instant Death, unless Evasion or Invincibility is activated

Lucifer’s pride is a bit wounded. He’s a Rider, of all things??

(...He eventually gets used to it though)

His Noble Phantasm is him literally mounting Cerberus and raising his spear towards the heavens, looking as radiant as the days before the Fall

“It seems drastic times call for drastic measures. Cerberus, I trust you to handle things here.”

And Cerberus runs forth, either chomping the enemy in two or breathing fire at them and turning them into ash. (It hits everyone)

Satan and Jekyll hang out a lot because, well...they’re a lot alike

Mammon can and will do stupid shit with the Cu Squad and you cannot change my mind

One time he teamed up with Cascu to steal the other Cu’s spears (Mammon wanted to sell them on Akuzon), and well...half of Chaldea is still in repair to this day

Merlin of all Servants is the one to look after Belphie and Beel

They usually hang out in the garden Robin tends to, Asterios occasionally joining them while bringing both food and Euryale

Asmo frequently visits Medea, dragging Medusa into their group

(Dantes grows fond of Beel overtime, I mean Beel is just so pure there’s no way you couldn’t like him)

Lucifer and EMIYA butt heads at first, but they end up becoming friends despite that

Lucifer admires EMIYA’s skill to keep up with Servants who have a black hole for a stomach, and EMIYA admires Lucifer’s skill to round up his brothers effortlessly when the need to arises (or so he thinks, because he does not know about the Hate Lucifer Club which is run by Satan and Belphie).

Levi and Fran have a pure kind of friendship that must be protected at all costs

He shows her new animes and games, and even though she’s confused most of the time she never fails to listen to his ramblings, nodding whenit was appropriate

BONUS: Undateables (+ Luke)!

Solomon’s situation is...peculiar.

He’s not a Servant, but he behaves like one??

(He’s actually a mage that helps you on your journey to save humanity)

Unlike Da Vinci, he’s able to accompany you to the Singularities (free of charge, too!)

Once he sees the other Solomon, all he says is “I see...interesting.”

(Ngl he probably figured out everything by the time you all went to Okeanos)

Asmo also drags him into his group (consisting of Medea and Medusa), offering to paint his nails as they talk about anything and everything

Simeon is a Lancer and you can’t change my mind

He’s more of a buffer for your team, like Asmo. His skills are primarily healing, and his NP saps the health of an opponent while healing someone other than himself with that health (he cannot heal himself)

He gets along great with Karna!! The two are so nice and kind that it hurts to look at them both for too long

Solomon tells him about the gossip Asmo has on the other Servants. He always listens with an amused look on his face.

Luke is a smol Caster, but he will not hesitate to break your kneecaps

He, too, is a buffer for your team

“I’ll defend you from those demons, (Y/N)!”

His Noble Phantasm heals all allies, restoring their health by 20%

He bakes with Fsn Cu at night, having Proto Cu and Robin Hood try out his sweets. Beel is there 10/10 times, eating any failures or rejects

Diavolo is Ruler Class because he is literally the Ruler of Hell

Surprisingly (to you, at first), he’s the one who always asks to accompany you. He’s very open and considerate, wanting to help wherever and whenever he can

“The Human Realm is essential if we are to establish harmony between the three Realms. Without it there...angels and demons would fight each other for eternity.”

He tells you about his ideas for an exchange program and you offer him input

His Noble Phantasm is applying Invincibility to two allies for 3 turns after dealing heavy damage to a single enemy (cannot apply Invincibility to himself)

He likes to talk with Caster Gil and Archer Gil about their past, going to Ko Gil on occasion. He helps look after the child Servants, and he can often be found reading bedtime stories to them

(Everyone was scared of him at first once they found out who he was, so he usually held off revealing his True Identity)

Barbatos, at first glance, seems like an Archer...but in reality is an Assassin

(HE CONTROLS TIME FOR F*S SAKE)

His Noble Phantasm, depending on the enemy selected, can revive a fallen ally and add them to the Sub Team

(This is only if the enemy that killed the ally is selected)

This stuns him for 3 turns no matter what

He likes to chat with the Tamamo that helps EMIYA in the kitchen. How the two are communicating without issues is up to anyone’s guess

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littletayyswriting · 3 years

Text

Title: Last Chance Surprise (1/3)

Author: LittleTayy

Rating: Teen

Characters: Addison Montgomery, Mark Sloan, Callie Torres, Derek Shepherd

Summary: The casual sex Mark and Addison had been engaging in before the no sex bet causes some unexpected results. Set during Season 3. AU. Canon Divergence. Maddison.

Read On: AO3 or ff.net

Last Chance Surprise

~in these uncertain times~

It's fourteen days into your no sex bet with Mark when you start to feel sick. You're nauseous and exhausted - you feel so drained you've almost fallen asleep at the nurses station multiple times over the last week. On call rooms have become your best friends as of late; and not for illicit purposes, though Mark wiggles his eyebrows playfully any time he sees you heading for one.

A whiff of Karev's cologne one morning has you turning green, hurtling for the nearest restroom, Callie following you in worriedly. "Addison...you okay?" Callie asks and you feel her pulling back your hair and you can't help but think she's a good friend.

Ten minutes later and you're washing your hands, gazing tiredly at your reflection in the mirror as Callie leans against the sinks. "Can't believe you still look good after throwing up like that," Callie teases, casting her gaze over you.

You can't help but chuckle, shaking your head. "At least I feel a little better now," you tell her when you catch her worried gaze, answering her before she can even ask.

An eyebrow raised. "Really? No more sick feeling? Cause I was gonna suggest you should go home or something…" Callie tells you and you sigh, turning to face her properly; hip resting against the counter.

"Honestly, I feel fine Callie. Still tired but it's just one of those weeks, I think," you tell her with a small smile and a shrug. "But hey, at least it's kept my mind off the no sex," you joke, throwing her a playful look.

However, the mention of the no sex bet, triggers something in your mind. You frown as you contemplate everything you've been feeling in the last few weeks and then you're counting back the days and you realise you're late. 22 days late, in fact and you gasp in alarm.

"Addie?"

It's then you remember that Callie is standing in front of you. You look up at her, eyes wide and mouth dropped open in shock.

"Callie, I think...I mean, I need you to take my blood. Right now," you insist, almost desperately.

You watch her brows furrow. "What? Addison...what's going on?" She asks and you grab her hand, dragging her towards the restroom door.

You take a moment, wondering whether to spill your suspicion to the ortho surgeon. But Callie has been a good friend to you so far and you feel like you can trust her. Hell, she already knew about the first baby and the abortion you had.

"I think I might be...pregnant," you whisper to her urgently, glad that the bathroom is empty. You'd be mortified if that little tidbit of gossip somehow made its way out. The nurses have no scruples when it comes to gossip.

"What?!" Callie exclaims, her eyes wide, her expression shocked but somehow delighted. "Sloan?" She questions after a moment, name drawled carefully.

Your face crumples, a pout on your lips as you nod. You glare as she whistles even though you can see she's just trying to lift your mood. "What are you going to do if you are?" She asks as you both make your way as discreetly but quickly as you can towards a deserted exam room.

"I don't know," you tell her, despite the fact you've been thinking about a baby a lot lately. One thing you know almost for certain though, is that you want the baby. If there is one; you won't be getting another abortion.

You step into an exam room, Callie following closely behind and you're glad to see how private it is. You're in a daze as Callie takes your blood and you're grateful when she keeps your name off of them. You're still sitting on the exam table when Callie gets back from dropping the blood test off, wringing your hands as you try to think of what you're going to do.

"You know, we could always just go up to Obs and commandeer an ultrasound machine," Callie jokes, arms crossed as she leans against the door.

You can't help but laugh at the idea, shaking your head. "I'm not sure that'd be a good look," you say, though the amusement is clear in your tone.

"You're the Head of Obstetrics!" She exclaims. "You should be able to commandeer anything you want up there," Callie tells you with a grin.

You laugh because she's right. But you'd rather not risk anyone finding out just yet. You're about to say as much when your pager goes off and you're suddenly reminded you're meant to be working; the both of you.

"I have to go deliver a baby," you say, pushing up off the exam table as Callie straightens up too. "Page me when you get the results back. Please?"

Callie nods and then you're both exiting the room and going your separate ways.

. It's close to 6pm when you trudge into the Attendings lounge, intending to grab your stuff quickly and get back to the Archfield. You pause for a moment as you pull out your handbag; if you're really pregnant you're going to have to find a house or an apartment. A hotel is no place to raise a baby.

Of course you try to shake the thought off, you don't even know if you're actually pregnant yet. But the more you thought about it as the day wore on, the more convinced you've become. All the signs are there and you rack your brain to try and figure out a conception date. It is, embarrassingly, harder than you thought it'd be to pinpoint - you and Mark had been sleeping together rather frequently before the sex bet.

By your current symptoms though, you'd estimate you're at least 5 weeks pregnant. And as you make your way out of the attendings lounge, you're glad to see Callie waiting for you; test results in hand. At least if you can see your hCG levels, you know you can figure out just how pregnant you actually are.

It doesn't even surprise you when Callie nods, handing the results over. She knows you well. You need to see them for yourself so you can finally realise your suspicions were right. "Thank you," you murmur to your brunette friend as she falls in step beside you.

"So?" She asks as your eyes take in the results and readings in front of you.

Your hCG levels are higher than you expected them to be and you realise you must be six weeks along. Almost seven weeks in fact.

With that information in hand, one night stands out in your mind. The night after the woman with the toxic blood incident. You remember how worried Mark had been about you and you remember how surprisingly intimate your evening with him had been. The fact you'd been deliciously sore for days after had annoyingly boosted Mark's ego to a ridiculous degree.

It seems fitting, you think, that that's the night he got you pregnant. Again.

Silently, you curse yourself for not using protection. But you had both wanted to feel each other - all of each other and it wasn't like it had never happened before. In fact, thinking back, you realise Mark is the only man you'd ever been so reckless with. Even with Derek you had been careful. Mark just always seems to make you lose all sense.

"Addison?" You hear Callie's voice and you pull your eyes away from the results. You'd completely forgotten she was even there for a moment.

"Sorry," you murmur, tucking the test results into your handbag as you gaze over at your friend. "I guess I'm just trying to process…" you tell her and frankly it's the truth.

Mark has managed to get you pregnant twice in a year. It's ridiculous really. Fourteen years with Derek and not even a scare; two hot albeit one misguided, nights with Mark and you're sufficiently knocked up. He's got to have some kind of super sperm.

You can't help but wonder how many potential illegitimate children Mark Sloan has running around out there. You can't believe you're going to add to the number. It's uncharitable to think, you know it is, Mark is your friend but you can't deny that there's a good chance Mark really does have a child out there he doesn't know about.

Which leads you to realise that you can't keep this child from Mark. From his point of view you've already taken one of his children from him; even if it'd been the right choice at the time. You sigh as you and Callie stop at your car, your mind focused on Mark and the embryo inside you. You need to tell him but you truly don't know how; especially with the current bet between you both.

"Yeah. It's probably a lot to take in. But...it's a good thing isn't it?" Callie asks.

The question freezes you. Is it a good thing? You're not quite sure yet. Your life is nowhere near what you'd thought it would be but you do want a child - even if you hadn't thought it'd happen quite like this. You're not terrified like you were last year and it's still not an ideal situation; but you think it will be a good thing.

"I think so. I suppose I just need to get used to the idea," you tell her with a smile and a slight chuckle. "I-Callie...please don't tell anyone, okay? Especially not George. I don't need the interns knowing because then it'll only be a matter of time before Grey tells Derek and I can't handle that right now. Plus, I need to tell Mark first…"

You let out a sigh of relief as Callie nods and you can see she gets it. "Of course! Addison, my lips are sealed," she assures you and you smile.

"Thank you Callie," you breathe with relief. You truly don't know how you'd get through your days without Callie, she's become one of your closest friends here in Seattle. One of your only friends really; you can't count Mark as a friend anymore, not when he makes you lose all sense and you're pregnant with his child.

"No problem. Go home, rest or whatever. I'll see you tomorrow," Callie tells you with a smile and makes her way towards her own car.

You watch as she leaves before getting into your car and heading for the Archfield. You've got a lot of thinking to do.

It had been over two weeks since you'd found out you were pregnant and Callie is still the only other person to know. You know you should tell Mark but you've still got the whole no sex bet going on; which you realise, is complicating things a bit. You'd told Mark that if he could go 60 days without sex, you'd give him a chance and though you'd never admit it, you want him to pass. Your own part in the no sex bet barely crosses your mind.

The problem is the fear you have at telling him about your pregnancy. He'd be wary but excited and you know that'd push him to take the sex bet even more seriously then he is already. You don't want him to want you just because of the pregnancy. You want to know he wants you for, well, you. It's ridiculous and Callie has told you as much but you can't help it - you've already been hurt too much in the past few years.

You're bringing a child into the world and if you and Mark are to have a relationship; you don't want it to be based purely on the child. You won't subject your child to the kind of upbringing you'd had with Bizzy and the Captain. And though you don't want to admit it, you know Mark would understand that - his own upbringing as empty as yours.

So no, you're not prepared to tell Mark about the baby. Not yet anyway. Callie thinks you're being dumb and you don't know how but she's managed to wrangle a promise out of you; whether Mark lasts the sixty days or not, you have to tell him. You were a little offended when she brought it up but you had to admit, at least to yourself that the younger woman knows you. Apparently well.

You've been feeling like shit for the last few weeks that you've almost forgotten your part in the bet. If Mark wasn't having sex, neither are you. Frankly, the way you've been hugging the toilet morning, noon and night, sex has been the last thing on your mind. You're sure that the surgical wing thinks you've got one persistent flu - you hope so anyway. Callie can only cover for you for so long.

Mark however, has gotten more persistent and considerate in the last week. He's stopped the dirty jokes and suggestions and instead been watching you with worry clear in his eyes. He's started bringing you tea in the mornings and chicken soup to your hotel room at night. If you didn't know better you'd think he knew you're pregnant. Because of course, if he knew that he'd have asked you - there's not a part of him that'd keep silent about that.

You're on your lunch break, a measly hospital salad in front of you because it's light enough not to set off your stomach, when Mark slides into the seat beside you. You're focused on the lettuce, trying to ignore the intense look Mark is giving you. From the corner of your eye you can see he is relaxed back in his seat, dark scrubs setting off his eyes and an amused smirk on his lips. It takes everything in you not to stare, his ego is already big enough.

"You still got that flu?" He drawls and the way he says it, you worry he knows the truth. But you shake it off - there's no way he could possibly know.

You simply roll your eyes in reply, finally lifting the lettuce to your lips. Your lack of a verbal answer doesn't seem to deter him, it never has in fact.

"Cause, I know I'm irresistible. But I didn't think you'd go and get yourself sick just to stop yourself from jumpin' me," he teases and you can't help but laugh at his words.

You realise too late that that was his intention all along. But despite your realisation, you can't help the warmth that spreads through you at the thought of him trying to cheer you up. It's sweet and it doesn't surprise you because Mark's always been that way with you. It's part of the reason your feelings grew from friendship to something a little more for him.

"Oh yes, I just want you that badly," you tease right back, actually enjoying the light banter.

You're both grinning at each other, Mark clearly ready to reply with some kind of innuendo when you realise you've been overheard. Derek is standing not far from you both and by the look on his face, you know he's heard your words. You freeze for a moment before realising that you no longer have to care what Derek thinks; though a part of you still does. You're going to have Mark's child, even if no one else knows that yet, so you figure there's no point worrying about what Derek thinks any longer. You two aren't married and he's been perfectly clear about how he feels for you now.

"Something we can help you with Dr. Shepard?" You ask, the petty part of you enjoying the strained look that flickers over Derek's face at your use of we. Mark, you can tell, is amused.

"I need Dr. Sloan for a consult," Derek replies tightly, gaze flicking between you and Mark before settling on the other man.

"Ah," Mark sighs as he pushes himself up from his seat. "Well, duty calls. I'll see you later Addie," Mark tells you, winking at you playfully.

You can't help but smile at the gesture. You wonder if it means he'll turn up at your door with dinner because despite your vomiting jaunts, you've enjoyed him bringing or sending you meals. Maybe you'll even let him convince you to eat together tonight.

Watching him leave with Derek you can't believe how easily he can turn your mood around. You're still worried over everything, of course. Whether to tell him now or after the bet is over is constantly weighing on your mind. It's not that you're planning to keep it from him forever but you just don't know when the right time is. Nausea swirls in your stomach and you give up on the lousy salad; you move to stand up, the nausea strong and feel a wave of dizziness wash over you.

Black spots dance before your eyes and as you move to pick up your tray, your body feels heavy. You take a few deep breaths before darkness crashes in on you.

Your eyelids feel heavy and you feel sick. It's not a good combination and you want to throw up but you want to at least wait until you can open your eyes. You groan, feeling downright icky and no it's not a medical diagnosis but it's the accurate way to describe how you feel.

Slowly, you open your eyes as you hear people talking around you. You grimace as the bright lights of a hospital room greet you and you wonder how you got from the courtyard to here. Miranda Bailey and two of her damn interns are there, so is Richard and to your surprise, so are Derek and Mark. All look worried but it's Mark you direct a soft smile towards.

"Welcome back sleeping beauty," Mark says, the first to speak and you can see Derek's eyes roll. Miranda and Richard don't look particularly impressed either.

"What happened?" You ask, choosing to ignore him for the moment, gaze flitting to Miranda's. This is clearly not a surgical case but she's checking you over anyway.

"You fainted Montgomery. In the courtyard," Miranda tells you and you can already feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. Fainting in public is bad enough, it's even worse in your book considering you're an Attending. You can only imagine what people are saying about it.

"Oh," is all you murmur, your embarrassment clear. "I'm feeling fine now though," you announce, pushing yourself up into a better position. "I can get back to work," you insist but already you know that won't work.

"Not going to happen Addison," and this time it's Richard answering. You turn your eyes to the man and though you see him as a sort of father figure, you know you won't be able to talk your way out of this. "You've been sick for over a week and now you've fainted. You need to lay there and rest. I have half a mind to send you home until you're not throwing up or passing out on us," Richard continues, arms crossed as he gazes at you worriedly.

You sigh, nodding in acceptance. You know there's no use in arguing with him. "Fine."

Two sets of eyebrows raise in surprise and you know it's because they've never heard you accept being sidelined so easily. You glance at Mark and Derek out of the corner of your eye and can't help the little grin on your lips as you realise how worried both look. It amuses you, if only because you know they are probably both confused by your behavior.

It's Miranda's voice now that cuts through your amusement. "Alright. She's awake now. I'm sure she's enjoying the gawking but let her rest. Don't you have patients to see?" Miranda says sharply, her shrewd gaze on Mark and Derek. Mark looks amused and Derek looks alarmed as they nod and head for the door.

"I'll spring ya outta here soon Red, don't worry," Mark throws over his shoulder as he exits and you can't help but giggle a little. A giggle that dies down at the knowing gaze of Miranda. She's ushered her interns out the door too and Richard's not far behind.

"Rest, Addison. I can't have one of my star surgeons ill," he tells you but you know he too is worried.

You expect Miranda to leave too but instead she shuts the door behind the Chief and turns to look at you. You try not to squirm under her scrutiny but you can't help it.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong Montgomery? Or should I wait for the blood results?" Miranda starts and you sigh a little. It's clear she knows something and you trust her, especially after she helped you with your poison oak situation.

"I'm pregnant," you say eventually, letting a hand stray low on your stomach and a small smile settle on your lips.

You watch Miranda and you're not surprised when she doesn't seem all that surprised. "Didn't think it was a three week flu you had," she scoffs, shaking her head a little. Her gaze settles back on you then and you're surprised by the spark of curiosity you can see in her eyes. "Do you know how far along you are?" She asks and you grin.

"Nine weeks and a day," you tell her softly. You're happy about this and you hope if you can convey that, Miranda will be happy for you too.

"Nine weeks… Do you...uh," and she stutters here, waving a hand around in front of her. It's clear to you what she's trying to ask and you feel your cheeks flush once again.

"It's Mark's," you tell her softly.

Miranda scoffs then, shaking her head. "Couldn't keep ya knees closed around him, hm?" She teases, harkening back to an early conversation you'd had with Miranda when Mark had first started working at Seattle Grace. That seemed so long ago in comparison.

"I told you I lose sense around him!" You spout, huffing a little though there's no weight to it. You can't convince yourself any longer that you're as opposed to Mark as you'd like people, him included, to believe.

Miranda simply gazes at you, lips pursed in the way she's wont to do. You simply look at each other for a moment before she shakes her head. And you know that will be the end of that conversation. You're grateful that Miranda is choosing not to question your decisions too much regarding Mark.

"You're probably dehydrated and got low blood sugar. I've seen the way you've been vomiting all week. You need to start eating better or more at least," Miranda advises though you both know you know all this already. In fact, you're usually the one giving this advice; it's odd to be on the other side receiving it. "I'm going to get you hooked up with an IV and get some more fluid in you. You've gotta do better Montgomery," Miranda admonishes and you can't help but grimace sheepishly.

"I know, I know," you murmur. "I've been trying but I can't keep anything down. What'd you do about morning sickness?" You ask her, slumping back a little in the hospital bed and hoping she'll have some good advice.

"My morning sickness wasn't too bad. But you can never go wrong with saltines and ginger ale," she tells you and you chuckle. It's the same thing you've said to your patients thousands of times.

"I'll try it," you say, giving her a smile. She seems to be done now and is heading for the door. "Oh, Miranda. Could you not mention...my situation to anyone? I haven't told Mark yet and I don't want him to hear it from anyone else," you call out to her softly.

You can see her considering you and your words before nodding. "Not a word from me. Don't worry. But tell him soon, I'm sure there's already bets going around about what's wrong with you," she informs you and you can't help but shake your head. Mostly because you know she's probably right.

One minute you were glaring at the nurse hooking up your IV and the next you're waking up to Mark Sloan lounging around in the seat next to your bed. You weren't officially admitted but you'd cleared your patients for the day considering Miranda and Richard didn't think you could even stand on your own. You hate being confined to a bed but you can't deny how well rested you feel now that you've woken up.

"Mark?" You call out to him as you watch him so focused on his phone. You have a sneaking suspicion he's got a game of Snake going on. You smirk as he startles, he'd clearly been engrossed.

"Red!" He grins at you, seeming happy to see you awake. His wide smile and caring eyes send warmth shooting through you. "You're awake. Was worried you were gonna sleep through the night and I was gonna have to sleep in this chair," he continues, complaining playfully as he sits up straight and stretches a little.

You shake your head. "You wouldn't have to stay with me," you tell him, stretching a little yourself.

Mark simply smiles and shakes his head. "I know that. But I want to Addie. I've been worried about you. You've been very sick lately…" he trails off then and you can see clearly just how worried he's actually been. It surprises you but you know it shouldn't. Mark cares about you, he always has.

You sigh, frowning a little as you realise you need to tell him. As touching as it is that he's so worried for you; you don't want him to worry anymore. Knowing Mark he's probably deduced your recent bout of illness to some kind of incurable cancer. You'd rather not have him thinking you're dying.

"I have been very sick lately," you agree with a nod, wrapping your hands around each other nervously. "But I'm not sick per se…" you continue, hesitating for a moment. Your eyes meet his and you can see the worry and confusion mix. "I'm pregnant Mark. Nine weeks."

You exhale. You've finally told him and the weight you've been carrying around has finally lifted. But the anxiety rears its head as you watch Mark, trying to figure out what he's thinking.

His eyes flit between your face and your stomach and you see he's processing. "Nine weeks," he murmurs, brows furrowing a little. "When you went in to put that girl with the toxic blood under again?"

"Yeah," you say with a nod, eyes still focused on the man. And you can see he's thinking about that intimate night you'd spent together. You'd both been exhausted the next day and the fact you couldn't walk properly the next day had made him unbearably smug.

"So it's...mine?" He asks almost cautiously and you can't really blame him. The last time you'd been pregnant with his child you'd terminated it after all.

"Yes," you reply firmly. You seek out his gaze and can see the unasked question in them. "I'm keeping the baby. I want this child Mark."

You hadn't expected the sigh of relief but you had expected the grin. "Really?"

"Really," you echo back to him and you've barely got the word out before his lips are on yours.

You grin into the kiss despite yourself, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as you kiss him back. It's a quick kiss though and he pulls back quickly, sitting on the edge of his seat. One of his hands has found yours and he's squeezing enthusiastically.

"We're going to have a baby Red. I want to be involved. Anything you need… I want to be a Dad, Addison. I know you think I'd be a terrible father but please, give me the chance to show you differently-"

"Mark," you interrupt because you can see where he's going with this. "I-I'm sorry for saying that. Our situation back then was very different to our situation now though. I want this baby to have both their parents but that being said...there's still a lot we need to figure out," you tell him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

He sighs but nods. "You're right, of course. But I just...I want you to know I'm in Addison. You know I love you and I want this to work out. I want to be a family with you."

You can't help but smile at his words. This was the kind of love you'd thought you wanted with Derek. You never expected this from Mark and somehow, that makes it feel better for you. Mark wants you, Mark's been choosing you for so long now and you think it's about time you let yourself choose him too.

"I know you do. I want that too Mark," you tell him softly, your smile wide as you gaze into each other's eyes.

"You do?" He questions and you can't fault him for asking, for making sure.

You nod, reaching out your hand to take one of his, entwining your hands together. "Yes. You're changing Mark and I suppose I haven't ever really given you enough credit for that. The Mark from New York wouldn't have agreed to a no sex bet…" you shrug then, lips pressing together as you try to think of what to say next. "We're going to have a child together. I have to see you for the man you are now. And that's...well, that's my issue. Not yours," you admit sheepishly.

Mark is simply watching you with a grin on his face. It's slightly unnerving. "Thank you," he murmurs after a moment and you don't even know what for. It must be clear on your face because he continues. "For giving me a chance. To be with you and to be in the baby's life. And just so you know...I think we should both stick to the bet. As much as I enjoy sex, especially with you Red, we need a foundation that isn't built on it. Especially with a baby coming," Mark tells you and you're surprised by the maturity and can't agree more with his assessment.

Thus begins the start of your dating life with Mark.

#grey's anatomy fanfiction #grey's fanfic #addison montgomery #mark sloan #grey's anatomy fanfic #lcs.1

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newts-fan-case · 4 years

Text

Pride - Henry Cavill x OFC

One-shot/Chapter number: This is part one of a new series/challenge I’m doing called “The Seven Deadly Sins” you can find more about it here.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC called Olivia, established relationship

Genre/Warnings: No warnings except for a little disclaimer: i took some creative licenses regarding the “movie” Henry is in, and the whole prep and red carpet stuff. Also, English is not my first language so a little help in grammar would be nice.

Rated: General Audiences

Word Count: 1,747

A/N: I just wanted to say hello to all the Cavill fans who are reading this, I hope you like this and hit me up with ideas for the next sins or prompts or any constructive criticism that you have. As always, the story is under the cut for better scrolling.

Pride: a feeling of deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one's own achievements, the achievements of those with whom one is closely associated, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired.

Oscar’s night.

One of the most important nights on Henry’s life, or maybe the most important to this day, at least. He was nominated for Best Supporting Actor for his role as Sherlock Holmes. And what a fantastic job he had done. His portrayal of the genius detective was phenomenal, and he showed a new side of the famous detective, doing a characterization that had never been seen before.

Olivia was so proud of him and his successes. He had already won the Golden Globe for best actor and she was sure he would win the Oscar too. He really deserved it.

They were preparing for the event. She was wearing a beautiful deep blue dress; it was flowy, and it barely brushed the floor. The dress was striking in its simplicity, not flashy at all because she wasn’t the main event. Henry was. But nevertheless, she looked ethereal in it.

They had been together for two years now and this night was the first one of them going to an event like this. How could she not be by his side in such an important night? She wasn’t going to be walking the red carpet with him, though. Olivia didn’t enjoy that kind of attention and she wasn’t a fan of pictures. Her decision caused a little quarrel, but Henry understood where she was coming from and he didn’t want to jeopardize her comfort and wellbeing. The important thing was that she would be next to him during the ceremony, cheering right by his side.

Henry entered the bedroom where a stylist was giving the finishing touches to her updo. Almost emptying a can of hairspray on her head. She looked gorgeous, so elegant and resplendent. Henry was elated for being the one man that got to be with such a marvellous woman. Olivia always said that he was the pretty one in the relationship, but right now she looked like a Goddess gracing his life with her presence and her smile. Where he a less humble man, Henry would say they would be the best dressed of the night.

“You look stunning, baby.” He said while approaching her. He took Olivia’s hand and made her turn around to appreciate her better.

She smiled when they locked eyes again.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, mister nominee.” She teased him, and he smiled at her, proud of his achievements too. “We ready to go?” she asked.

“Yes, I came to check if you were ready. Our driver is waiting for us and the one for the crew is here too”

“Alright, let’s go” She kissed him shortly and went to grab her clutch. It only had her phone, ID and lipstick. Then she turned to the stylist while taking Henry’s hand. “Barbara, thank you so much for helping me get ready. You did a wonderful job!”

“Hey, I only worked with what you already got going on, honey!” Barbara replied, following them out of the room.

Olivia smiled at her, the comment boosting her confidence a bit more.

The three of them, along with Henry’s assistant and publicist made their way to the elevators. There, two bodyguards joined them. And all of them made quick work of getting to the cars.

The happy couple along with Max, Henry’s publicist, rode on the first car, the others were behind them.

“So, Liv,” said Max, “you sure you don’t want to walk the red carpet with Henry?”

Olivia bit her lip and Henry squeezed her hand. She knew how important this was for Henry. They had already discussed it and she would be waiting for him inside, but she knew he wanted to ‘show her to the world’. Henry was proud of her and their relationship, and he wanted to show everyone what an exceptional woman he had by his side at every chance he got.

When she hesitated to respond, looking at Henry with an insecure look in her eyes, he said “Baby, we already talked about this, it’s fine if you don’t want to. I want you to be comfortable.” He kissed her knuckles and rubbed her hand to try and relax her.

“But… I know you want me there. And I want to be beside you too… at all times, but I- It’s- I’m just… scared”

Her eyes full of doubt pained Henry. He put his hand on her cheek, cradling it and making her look into his eyes.

“If you want to do this, I’ll be by your side at all times. I won’t let anything happen to you and if you’re uncomfortable we can cut it short. I don’t care.” He said firmly, she caught a glance of Max cringing in her peripheral vision. “And, we still can go according to plan, you go in with Lucy and wait for me. It’s fine either way.”

She bit her lip, hesitant, “you sure?”

“Of course. I love you. And I don’t’ want to put you in a compromising position”

“I love you, too.” She took a deep, shaky breath, “okay… let’s do it together then, I don’t want anyone getting ideas of stealing you from me.”

Henry beamed at her answer and chuckled. She put her hand around his neck and kissed him, smiling too. He softly caressed her face and deepened the kiss. They were in their own bubble, lost in one another.

“Mmh-hmm,” fake-coughed Max, making the couple part and look at him, “we’re almost there, lovebirds. And with the change of plans we need to sort quickly through possible questions they might ask you. Liv, you’re wearing…”

And that’s how they used their last minutes before they got to the venue. Henry was buzzing with excitement. Olivia was still a bit nervous, but she sucked it all up for her man and focused her attention on what Max was saying. She couldn’t ruin the night for Henry, she knew how important this was for him.

The car came to a stop and Olivia could feel her heart about to beat out of her chest, her hands were getting clammy and Henry looked at her.

“You’re absolutely sure you want to do this?”

She took a deep breath again, this time, smelling some of Henry’s scent. That calmed her down a bit and she nodded. “Yes, I’m ready.”

“All right, but remember, say the word and we cut the carpet short. Okay?”

She bit her lip and nodded. Max only shook his head and muttered something, but at this point Henry wouldn’t let him make his girl feel bad, so he just gave Max a dirty look.

The publicist got out of the car first, making sure their bodyguards had arrived, and when they opened the door Olivia could hear the screaming of people and photographers.

Henry got out then, making the screaming increase in volume. He waved at the people and then stretched his hand to help Olivia out. She took his hand and exited the car very carefully. Mindful of the dress, watching that it didn’t catch in her heels and putting a smile on her face. She didn’t want any gossip about her looking like she didn’t want to be here.

The loud noises and the flashes almost gave her a headache, and after that first shock of noise and movement, the whole “walking the Red Carpet” was a blur. The only constant thing for Olivia was Henry by her side, with his arm around her waist and his whispered instructions or compliments in her ear.

She had to admit, after some time, Olivia did feel pretty good. Especially during the interviewing part, she couldn’t help but look at her man with adoration and pride in her eyes when he talked about the movie and the work all the cast and crew had done. And every interviewer made the point of saying how beautiful she looked. This, in turn, made Henry practically fawn over her and shower her with loving words and compliments. He really wanted to rub in everyone’s faces the magnificent woman that had chosen him to be with her.

Finally, they got to their seats. They were in the same table as Millie Bobby-Brown, who was there with her mother, and with the director of the movie, who was there with her husband. They all made small talk while waiting for the ceremony to start.

When the host finally appeared, the room quieted, and the show started.

The ceremony was going well for their table. Millie had won the award for best actress, which had made her mother, the director and Olivia cry because the young woman really deserved it and it was a huge accomplishment.

Next up was Henry’s category and Olivia could feel him buzzing with anxiety.

“Love, relax, it’s going to be fine. You were great and even if you don’t win -which is not going to happen-, it’s a great feat that you were even nominated” She tried to reassure him while intertwining their fingers and rubbing his leg with her free hand.

Henry sighed and gave her a quick kiss, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, “and I’m already very proud of you either way.”

They smiled at each other for a few seconds and then turned their heads to listen to the presenters of the award. Henry composed himself before the camera pointed at him when they read his name for the nominations and waved politely. Meanwhile Olivia clapped beside him.

“And the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor goes to…” everyone waited with bathed breath. Henry could feel his heart pounding and his ears ringing. “Henry Cavill!”

The room erupted in applauses and Henry was in shock. Olivia’s voice was what took him out of his reverie while she hugged him.

“Congratulations baby!” she said in his ear and then gave him a quick kiss. “Now go, go, go!”

He kissed her again, not caring that the whole world saw them and then hugged the director on his way to the stage.

Onstage, Henry couldn’t help but bask in the attention and the applauses. He could barely see Olivia trying to wipe her tears of joy and he couldn’t feel prouder of his work and what his live had come to.

A/N p.2: I hope you liked it and as you might know, likes, comments and all that jazz are greatly apreciated. If you want me to tag you on the next part let me know! And I hope you all can accept me in the Henry fandom as a fellow thirster for this man. I’ve been lurking for some time and I’ve finally come out of my shell (i think) so if you want to chat or something hmu!

Also, if anyone wants to guide me in the hashtag game to get to more people and all that it would be greatly appreciated

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fan fiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fic #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x original female character #cavillvirus #mywriting #henry and olivia #seven deadly sins #mine

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chuckbass-love · 4 years

Text

Why Him? | Ransom Drysdale | Part 10

A/N : A little earlier than promised but hope you enjoy

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than my Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3. However, reblogs are welcome.

Why Him? MASTERLIST

Claudia’s POV

“I think you have some gossip to share” the familiar voice calls out. I look up “LUCY” we hug instantly, “Sit down. Strap yourself in girl” she giggles as she takes a seat on the chair in front of my desk. “Okay so the sex is a story for another time but anyways he rented out this Italian restaurant just for me and him” her smile is forming, close to bursting with excitement.

“Then a couple days after that, i met his family. I know it might seem a bit rushed but it just happened and i ended up having a big blowout with his uncle. Trust me when i tell you he’s a prick. Then we went back to his after and he asked me to be his girlfriend” and with that, she loses her self-control. Squealing away.

“So before we get into any of that, how is it?” knowing exactly what she means, i reply “On fucking point. Everything from the oral to the size of his. You know” we have to be careful what we talk about in the office. Ashley is pretty laid back but if he heard this conversation, we’d be in trouble.

“So... He’s a good fuck, a pretty boy and he’s romantic?” she asks, making a mental note in her head of all of his good points. “I see no cons in this man” i chuckle “well his family. Excluding his parents and grandad. His family are obnoxious and rude. His uncle asked me if he was paying me to be with him” she hangs her mouth open in shock. “I know. It’s disgusting. He apologised the next day though, which isn’t the point” she just shakes her head as i tell her all the details of that night.

Our gossip session is soon interrupted as Ashley knocks my door. Lucy stands up instantly, heading out to her desk. “So how did you find it?” he asks, i furrow my brows in confusion before realising what he meant. “Oh, Fashion Week? It was the best experience of my life. I’m forever grateful for the opportunity” he smiles, sitting on the edge of my desk. “It’s all part of the promotion. It was well deserved” i thank him again and he exits. I can’t help but feel like he wanted to ask me something but i brush it off and go about my day. Wishing for home time to roll around so i can kick these heels off. Eventually it does.

I leave the office and stroll onto the streets. My phone buzzes ‘I’m in the carpark doll’ i reply quickly ‘on my way’.

I reach the carpark and see him leant against the beamer. Grinning at me. “Hi, how’re you? and how was work?” he kisses my forehead, helping me into the passenger side. “It was good, got to catch up with Lucy which was long overdue” he smiles as he turns the key in the ignition. “I’m glad you had a good day. Listen, what are the plans for tonight?” he begins to drive to my place. I want nothing more than to spend the night with him again but i need some alone time.

My ex Jordan never allowed it, he claimed i was selfish for wanting it. So i’m naturally nervous to say this to Ransom. “Um, if it’s okay i was thinking i’ll just have some alone time, not that i’m tired of you i just-” he interrupts “Baby, that’s fine. You don’t have to explain yourself. I don’t expect you to be with me every second of everyday” he explains, moving his hand to its rightful spot. On my thigh.

Finally home, i kick my heels off and head to the refrigerator to grab a snack and some much needed wine. I pour myself a glass and head up to the bathroom. A bubble bath is also essential. This is my idea of heaven, this and being with Ransom in bed. I try to stop my mind wondering, going over all the things he did to me the other night. I can’t stop it. I feel this hunger in my stomach and i’m not hungry for food.

I brush it off and get into the bath.

It’s not healthy to live in each other’s pockets. It’s been a whirlwind romance from the get go. Each interaction made me want him more. But we all need alone time. I’m so glad he understood. If this were Jordan, there’d have been a row. I roll my eyes at the painful memories and sip my wine.

I step out of the bath, wrapping a towel round my body. I hear my phone ring in the distance, as i come closer i see it’s a FaceTime call from my mother. “Hi mom” i greet as i rest my phone down so i can change. “Hi love” i’ve not spoken to my parents in a couple weeks, not properly anyways. We text but rarely get the time to call.

“So how was Fashion Week? i wanna hear all about it” i shove on a New England Patriots jersey and fall onto my bed. “It was incredible mo,, being over there is like a whole other lifestyle. It was definitely a challenge but it was worthwhile” she beams at me. That proud mother look radiating off of her.

“Did you attend some of the parties?” she asks, a hint of worry in her voice “I did but not like that. I only had one drink and the only time i get drunk is with the gang every other Saturday” she nods “I know i know, i just worry. You know me” i give her a reassuring look.

“I feel like we’ve not seen each other in so long. Did you want to do lunch tomorrow when i’m on my lunch break?” her face lights up at the idea. She lives 30 miles away. “I’d love to, bring Lucy too. It’ll be a fun girly catch-up” she loves Lucy, they are practically the same person. “I’ll text but i’ve gotta go now. See you tomorrow”.

We hang and i text Lucy ‘BTW my mother is joining our lunch date tomorrow. She doesn’t about Ransom yet. I’ll tell her tomorrow but only the PG version’ send. ‘Omg i’ve missed Michelle so much. Ah i see, keep the R rated activities hush hush from mother dearest. Say no more’ i laugh at her response and then i head to the kitchen to get myself more snacks. I swear i don’t know how i haven’t gained weight from all this food i’ve consumed. I’m stuffing my face 24/7. If James were here right now he’d tell me to replace it with Ransom’s dick. His brain is pure filth all day every day.

*THE NEXT DAY*

I head into my office, setting my bag down on the floor and taking my coat off. I start shuffling through my paper work load for the day when Lucy barges in. “You got flowers” i look up to see a bouquet of flowers in her hands, my jaw dropping. They are beautiful.

‘Claudia,

Just some flowers to brighten up your day and office

Hope you love them

Lots of love doll

Ransom x’

“He’s literally the dream boyfriend. He gives you space but still likes to let you know that he’s thinking of you” she’s always been team Ransom. I don’t think that’s ever going to change. I place them on the table in my office, they do brighten the office up. ‘Thank you for flowers. They smell amazing and look even better’ i instantly get a response. ‘Glad you like them. They are beautiful just like you. Can’t wait to see you this weekend. Have the best day doll’ i grin to myself, placing my phone down to crack on with this pile of work.

Lunch time rolls around very fast. Time does go quickly when you’re occupied. Me and Lucy stroll towards the coffee shop. I spot my mom sat in the window waiting. “Mom” i’ve missed her so much. She pulls me into a tight hug then she moves onto Lucy “Lucy, it’s so nice to see you again” we all sit down once we have our food and drink. Oh and a slice of cake too.

“So what’s new with you Lucy?” i look over at her and is pot that smug smile. Oh no. She wouldn’t. “Not a dam thing but Claudia has a boyfriend” that bitch. “Thanks for that Luce. Yes i have a boyfriend” my mom starts clapping as she asks to see a photo. I know i only have one of me and Ransom. We took it on the second date in New York. I pull the picture up and hand my phone to her. She looks up and winks at me. She’s not a regular mom, she’s a cool mom.

“He’s very handsome” i roll my eyes with a smile on my face. “I know, god knows how i managed to get him” we all giggle. I know other girls like him and find him attractive. I see the way they look at him. It gives me an ego boost in a way. Makes me feel very good knowing i’m the one he kisses and i’m the one that get’s his time. I’m a lucky girl.

I start to tell my mom all about Ransom, spilling all of the tea. Except the steamy parts. I can tell her everything, I even told her when i lost my virginity but this isn’t the same. Home boy is rough in the bedroom department. To my mom, sex is something romantic and telling her about me calling Ransom daddy and him fucking me into oblivion isn’t exactly lunch time talk. Nor will it ever even be normal talk with her.

I look up and across the room, just daydreaming when i see someone i think i know. When i focus properly i realise it’s Jordan. Yes that’s right my ex-boyfriend Jordan. GREAT. I quickly nudge at Lucy and she looks over at him. He’s with a girl, a blonde. They seem like they are on a date. Good luck to the girl.

We finish up with our food and coffee and walk out of the coffee shop “You’ll have to come over and have dinner at my place with dad next week” i suggest “We’d love that. Maybe we can meet this boyfriend of yours” she’ll pounce on him if she does. We bid my mom goodbye and part ways on the sidewalk once we agree to make plans.

Time to get back to my stack of paper work. It’s going to be a long week at the office. I can’t shake the thought of Jordan at the coffee shop though. He looked happy which i’m not one to get like this but after all he did to me, happiness is the last thing that man deserves.

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theschizoidblog · 4 years

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Anger Outbursts

Blog 3: 11/07/2020

I want to start this particular blog post by saying that what I am about to describe today, might not be very common in schizoids. Maybe it’s not schizoid at all. Maybe it’s just me. Schizoids have what I’ve seen described as “flat affect” – as in that they show very little emotions. However, during my lifetime, I’ve had a few anger outbursts. These might be PTSD related in some cases. PTSD *is* common in schizoids. These attacks have been happening at an increasing rate in my lifetime. Hardly at all before the age of 30, but then more and more after that age until I decided it was one of the reasons to seek therapy.

The outbursts are usually incredibly brief. Such an outburst only lasts a few minutes, sometimes just a matter of seconds, but the spike of adrenaline often affects me for a few days, and afterwards, I’m a sobbing mess of guilt and other negative emotions for often hours in a row, and I’m exhausted as hell.

I will describe the triggers and my own reaction and what the experience is like. Sometimes I call it an anger outburst, but it could also be a form of anxiety attack or adrenaline attack or panic attack. I honestly don’t know the correct, professional distinction between all of them.

When it happens, my fight or flight response is triggered, and I usually choose “fight”. I’m not sure if I never choose flight, or if choosing flight just doesn’t trigger it and thus I’m hardly aware I even made a choice afterwards.

I really don’t know what the correct label is for my own “attacks”, but if after reading this blog, you feel like you know, then don’t hesitate to reply, send me an ask or reach out to me on facebook.

An overview of outbursts

Very often, my outbursts are work-related.

The very first time I had it was when I was about 16 years old. I had forgotten my homework, something which did happen a lot. I was a good student, but forgetful. I always forgot a book, sometimes I did forget to do homework too, but in this case, I’d done my homework but left the book at home. When the teacher asked, I was ashamed to say I’d forgotten it at home, but I said it. Another girl in my class, someone who I always found disrespectful towards me (and a bitch), was like “she probably didn’t do it!” – even though it was only the first thing she said to me that day, I decided it would also be the last thing she said to me that day. She said it in such a taunting manner that I barked back at her: “I DID DO IT!”

Now, for me to bark was rare. I was usually quiet, friendly and never looking for a fight. I dodge confrontation at all times. I was sooner a mediator or observer in the classroom than a fighter. But in this case, the fight or flight response got triggered, my adrenaline rose up, and I decided to stand up for the truth, and thus I shouted back in her face. She was visibly startled (when you never respond that way and know how to carry volume and fierceness in your tone, it lands) and she backed off immediately with an apology.

The teacher (who really had nothing against me, I was a good student) didn’t mention it either and just let me be for that hour while I cried where I sat.

I was a mess for the rest of the day. The first hour I sat in class crying and shaking, completely confused by what I’d done. Later that day I tried to keep up the pretense I was fine, but I was exhausted.

I don’t think it happened for another ten years afterwards, until as a 26-year-old, something very similar happened at work. I don’t know what the precise cause was, but a colleague of mine was a bit of a sneaky bitch, always gossiping behind everyone’s back. Calling her a bully might be an overstatement, but she was not a great person. She had two faces and I did not trust her. She said something that struck a nerve, fight or flight response was triggered, I chose fight and spoke back to her, then I ran out of the room, slamming the door. Then the next hour or so I spent on the toilet, crying. Very adult. Very professional. In what I call the “discharge”, after the adrenaline had left my body in the rage of anger, there was so much guilt and confusion I could not face anyone.

Skip another few years. A different situation. Once again at work. I do a helpdesk job, but it’s high-demand. We are expected to be flexible, answer phones, mails, social media, in various languages, about various subjects, always creating tickets and being productive. In the morning as I drove to my work place, I saw a small van of the internet company outside. My first thought was: “they better not fuck up our internet connection today, we’re behind on tickets.” An hour later, the internet goes down. I can’t do my job. There’s pressure on us to perform, and I get so angry at the thought that there was no problem but that those two idiots of the internet company outside managed to ruin our internet… While our leads ask us to switch to hotspots, my VPN connection decides not to work along, and I get so frustrated by this ridiculous problem that it triggers another outburst and I have to hide in the toilet in order to sob out my frustration.

Another outburst, one from over a year ago. I’m at work. It’s been busy as hell. I’ve been working overtime. We’re asked to fill in a self-evaluation. It’s a bit of work, but I’m glad to do it, I find it very important to do. So I do it after my time. So it’s 5 o clock and while others are going home, I’m still behind my desk, filling in the evaluation so I can take my time for it. After thirty minutes I’m done and I click “next” – but the site gives an error as though nothing has been saved. In no time at all, the fight or flight response is triggered, I take my keyboard in my hands and smash it down onto my table. I break its tiny fragile legs. A few meters away from me two colleagues were talking and they look at me like “wtf?” – I mutter an apology and sit there shaking, trying not to cry. (In the end, my evaluation got saved correctly, which makes it even worse, the site just gave a weird error after saving. I did not have to do it again.)

Something else which triggered a really bad episode was when I was at home, not at work for a change, and I was in a fandom discord. I can’t remember the exact cause, but mods were angry with me for a specific discussion in which I had not held back. I wanted to defend myself, but they denied me the opportunity to do so and gave me a strict warning. Without a means to stand up for myself or express my own emotions in a safe way, I exploded in anger, then in tears, just behind my computer, shaking, being a mess, eventually feeling exhausted. (This was a PTSD trigger for me, which I recognize as related to PTSD I got at the age of 21.)

This week I had another explosion.

I’ve been working on a new project with a few others of my team. Every week we get a few days to work on the project, each a few days. Last week I did two days, and this week I would be doing three days of work on the project. There’s a ton of work to tackle, so I planned it out and had planned out all three days. The third day, I start working in the morning (at home), with a clear vision in my mind of what I’m going to do that day so that everything is done before my colleague needs to continue the day after.

I’m at it for about ten minutes when I hear from the colleague that she gets to do the project that day, instead of me. She gets to do it for the rest of the week. My brain just short-circuits for a moment. I’m angry as hell.

In this case, it could be compared to a balloon that got inflated to a very big size, but did not pop immediately. Instead there’s a tiny hole of air and it’s deflating. In the minutes while I’m super-angry, I finish some of the stuff I must finish, mails that I had to send out and had already planned the day before. I use the adrenaline boost as a wave to do as much as I can in as short a time as I can. I take the energy from that moment and use it to be productive for the few minutes that I know it lasts.

I simultaneously express my anger about changing the shift on such short notice with the one responsible for this change. (via chat) I don’t blame her personally, but I voice that it affects me a great deal when she makes such changes without me knowing a day in advance. (While I express this anger I remain professional at the same time.) But slowly, the adrenaline wave is ending. A few minutes later, it’s over, my project work is done, and I’m a sobbing mess, unable to do my job of answering the phone while helping customers with their questions.

Luckily, I have a few great colleagues and team leads who know I’m in therapy for this reason, who also know I’m a schizoid, who know that I’m dealing with PTSD and who also know that I’m currently in EMDR treatment, which might cause things to trigger me more easily. So I just have to type to one: “having an attack”, and a few minutes later she’s calling me, and by then the anger is over and it’s a sobbing attack, and I explain through my sniffles and tears that I exploded, over what I exploded, and she’s immediately like: “Okay, what do you need to do right now in order to get over it?”

I state that it’s very exhausting, and that sleeping it off might be good. She agrees. It’s about 9 o clock, I go back to bed, and at 1 PM I am back at work, answering the phone, still exhausted, but at least able to answer the phone in a composed way again. I quit at 5 PM and by 6 PM I’m in bed again, sleeping. My productivity level in the afternoon was low, but at least I contributed in some way.

The Thoughts That Come With The Exhaustion

I feel most of these outbursts in my body for two days. The first day it’s like I just ran a marathon in a period of 3 minutes or so. The second day it’s like I ran a marathon the day before. :-P It’s just very tiring to have these outbursts. It drains my energy and my emotions.

At first there is anger, but almost at the same time there’s also guilt. There’s sadness and defeat. I remember the thought process of my last outburst very well, since it was only a few days ago. It was something along these lines:

“Schizoids aren’t ambitious people. You know this, but you also know that if you want to get your own place, not just rent it, you need to earn more. So you have to prove yourself. You have to work harder. You have to be more sociable. And you’ve been trying just that. This project is a way for you to prove you can tackle important work and maybe that might earn you a promotion in the future. That’s part of why you’ve been doing so much overtime for this project. And it’s a nice project. You like the project. But now that you’re having this attack, you’re only proving that you’re weak. You’re proving that you’re unstable. You’re proving that you need to remain at the lowest possible rank in this company because you can’t be given responsibility with this attitude. Not that you want to be a lead, but how can you be in charge of this project or any other in any way with these outbursts? What if you’d been doing a presentation to the CEO of the company about the project and you had such an outburst? What if he saw that? Not only would he want you gone, it would reflect badly on your coworkers and the team leads that are giving you this opportunity. They’re being patient with you, but it can’t last. At some point, they’ll have had it with you and they’ll see that they can only use you at the lowest possible responsibility, in a job where you’re easily replaced if you have an outburst. They’re good people, but capitalism doesn’t work on charity. In the end it’s about profit and you need to make sure you’re keeping up with the rest. You can still keep up with the rest, but you can’t prove to be more, so you’ll be stuck at the low-level income jobs for the rest of your life. Forget the ambition. It’s not real ambition. You have no ambition. This is why schizoids aren’t ambitious: because it’s defeating to always end up back at the low-level entrance jobs. Most schizoids don’t have jobs for longer than a few years, you’ve proven that time and time again before you landed this job. None of your jobs lasted very long. That’s why we forsake ambition and learn to just do our damn, miserable jobs. We can’t deal with the stress of climbing up the ranks. We can’t deal with the competition because we hate confrontation. So we just take a step back if someone louder and more aggressive says they want the job. Over and over again. No matter our talents. No matter if we have the capacity to out-think and out-work them on our best days. We can’t deal with the confrontation. We have no healthy way to deal with confrontation because we’re damaged in some way. We’re terrified of bad environments. We don’t want our work place to turn bad, so we always take a step back. Give up everything for the good of the group. To keep the peace. Just like how you did as a child. It’s the only thing you know how to do. To try and keep the peace. At the expense of your own happiness. So you bury it, deeper and deeper. What is ambition? You don’t know ambition. What do you want? You don’t know what you want. Or you think you don’t know, because wanting something might mean fighting for it, and fights are bad. Fights make it not worth it. So you remain miserable. Maybe someone else said they wanted to do the job. Maybe that’s why you were taken off the task. You made a mistake the day before. You admitted to making a mistake in the project. That’s why you’re not allowed to do the project today. They’re mad at you. They’re just tolerating you to do it because they need more people to do that work. Make sure you will not get replaced. You like this project. You can’t argue about it. Just be glad you’re back on the project next week. It’s a very busy time right now and you’re letting them down, so make sure that you’re up and running again as soon as you can. You can not afford to be a schizoid without a job. Certainly not during a pandemic. You can deal with people better than most. You just don’t like it when they mess up your schedule without your consent. But that’s going to happen more often in the future so how on earth are you going to deal with it? You have no idea how to deal with it. You’re going to short-circuit again. You don’t know how to prevent it. Maybe EMDR will help. Maybe it will only make it worse. The therapist said it would be worse for a while. But is this linked to your first EMDR session of a few weeks ago? Nothing you discussed in your last EMDR session resembled this situation, so why would EMDR be triggering this now? The therapist said you would get more triggers, but is this one? You shouldn’t blame EMDR. It’s probably not EMDR, it’s just an anger outburst like you’ve had before. Just because you didn’t want it to happen, doesn’t mean it stays away. You knew this could happen. Some colleagues are probably so disappointed in you right now. Some might be wondering where you are, they need you on the phone, it’s busy. You need to rest, you need to be able to answer phones again in the afternoon, you can’t do that in your current state. Think of something else, don’t allow yourself to ruminate about it. It’s not in your control. Not yet at least. Maybe you’ll learn to control it. You’re never going to control it this way. How old are you? You’re going to be dead before you control it. You’ve got depression too. Why do you even care about getting better? Just give up already. You’ve got depression so you shouldn’t be fighting for anything. Certainly not for promotion or approval. You don’t have the energy for that or the capacity to take any hits, so why do you bother? Maybe you should have gone to your safe space, like you were taught for the EMDR sessions? But this was not EMDR related, was it? Besides, it happened too fast. You needed to send those mails, when would you have had time to go to your safe space? You can’t send mails AND go to your safe space at the same time. You needed to ride the wave of adrenaline to get the last bit of work squeezed out of you. You needed to get the word out you were having an attack, so they knew why you weren’t on the phone. You did well enough, you finished sending the mails, transferring the project in a decent way, and you sent them the message you were having an attack. That’s something. That’s all you could have done, you did well. Does the safe space help now? Who are you kidding, you’re too exhausted to go to your safe space right now. You can hardly focus on one emotion or thought, that’s how tired you are, you can’t go to your safe space. That requires energy and focus. You have none right now. What’s it going to help, you need to rest now. Think of something else. Think of something fictional. Try to sleep.”

Harmful Thought Patterns

There are a lot of harmful thought patterns I need to break. Any psychologist could probably find several out of the thought process above. According to my own psychologist, I need to stop telling myself “I’m weak” – it’s a lie about myself that I believe deep in my core. But between knowing what is a wrong thought and between not believing a wrong thought lies a world of difference. I still believe that thought. It’s one of the things we’ll be working on, though I have no freaking clue how we’re going to break that thought since it’s one of my core beliefs.

There is some paranoia too. I don’t have the Paranoid Personality Disorder, but I can have paranoid thoughts during those moments of great sadness and guilt. But usually those thoughts are only there in moments of stress and I can recognize them afterwards, and most of the times at the exact moment as I’m having them as a paranoid thought. For example, thinking they’re looking for reasons to fire me, thinking they’re punishing me for making a mistake, I know that’s not the case. It’s a fear I have that they would do those things, but I know that that is not what they did, that’s not reality. That’s just a bad thought process that pops up after an attack. It adds to the guilt and sadness. It’s not something that I think during a regular day, since I usually don’t feed any emotions.

Not every thought that comes after an attack is a lie. I do believe there’s a lot of truth in my thoughts as well. There is self-analysis in there that is not completely wrong. I get wiser as I age and with the schizoid label also come new ways to look upon myself and my thoughts and history. I am starting to understand better why I am not ambitious. I am starting to understand why I avoid confrontation.

And I think the attack, in part, is triggered by confrontation. When you go back to the part where I describe all the past triggers I remember, it were always moments of confrontation in one way or another. I just have no idea how to deal with confrontation, hence me having a full meltdown whenever I force myself to stand up for myself.

I’m so not used to standing up for myself, that the exact moment I say to myself: “No, you NEED to say what you think about this NOW, you can not just pretend nothing happened” is when I have the outburst with all the unpleasant adrenaline and tears that follow. My communication towards the other party seems to be correct though. I don’t think anything was wrong with the chat I sent my colleague, or when I tell a bitch to back off - I think it’s assertive. But having a breakdown every time you’re assertive, isn’t normal. That’s the issue.

Had I decided not to confront my colleagues about how unpleasant it was to me that they changed my schedule, I might not have had the outburst, I think. (I honestly don’t know.) There’s the tiniest moment before the outburst, the fight or flight moment, where I need to make the choice. And it is a choice that I can make. I have agency in that moment. I can choose what my choice is, but I can not really choose the effect that comes with either option.

If I choose to flee, I’ll be relatively fine. Maybe a little shaken. If I do that, it probably adds another argument to the “you are weak”-narrative in my mind.

If I fight, there’s a possibility I end up at war with myself. In my thought process, I might be entering a war with everyone else. That’s usually not the case. People usually back off. (At least for a while.) But in my thought process, if I choose “fight”, it’s like I’m going to war. In that way, I do think that there’s a big link between my outbursts and some form of PTSD. I don’t see it clearly just yet, but I think I’m getting closer to a breakthrough of what it is.

A Link to Autism

I did not get diagnosed with autism. (Though we did the test!) However, the outbursts often seem autistic in some ways to me. Maybe people with autism experience it in a very similar way. Maybe they don’t and I’m just projecting.

(Just to clarify – before “autism” existed, people with autism all got the “schizoid” label. There are a lot of resemblances between the two. People with autism mostly distinguish themselves from a schizoid like me by not having the same social skills. Schizoids seem to have the skills more naturally while for people with autism it’s usually a skill they have to work on, like maths or languages is to neurotypicals. Or maybe it would be a better comparison to say it’s like they have dyscalculia while the rest of the world can do maths without much of a problem, but apply that comparison to how we as humans learn social situations. Another difference: Schizoids don’t want company, people with autism often do, but don’t know how to go about it. They both come across as asocial a lot of the time, hence some of the overlap between the two labels.)

But if you shorten what happened, if you say: “Her schedule changed last minute, and she exploded” or “A classmate insulted her, and she exploded” – that would seem autistic to some. A change of plans can really ruin the day of a person with autism since they prefer structure. People with autism can also really explode at bullies because they don’t know how to deal with them.

So if you shorten my trigger and my “explosion”, I think an outsider would say: “Oh that has to be autism. She can’t deal with change. She can’t deal with social situations.” My type of explosion is something that people with autism go through as well sometimes.

Sometimes it does make me doubt if it’s not autism for a part, but I suppose I should follow the opinion of my psychologist, and I do have to state that I don’t have a lot of difficulty reading social situations. I’m very sensitive to some situations even, feeling when some people can’t stand each other in a room without even talking to anyone. I think that’s something people with autism often can’t read from the room. I have been called a very good observer by some friends and colleagues in certain situations.

To End It

I’m not sure what else is left to say. Writing this has exhausted me as well, in a way. Going through emotions is hard for a schizoid. We bury them, deep. We don’t do it consciously, we just do it. Bringing it back to write about it, did bring a few of the emotions back. I did shed a few tears while writing this. (I’m not saying this for pity, by the way, just as an FYI to my state of mind while reliving this.)

An anger outburst brings the negative emotions to the surface. Anger (at the cause of the issue), guilt (about getting angry), sadness (about our own state of being), fear (of losing friends/our jobs/respect) are all negative emotions. You don’t want to have these on any day. Most days we don’t have any emotions. But on a day with an anger outburst we experience all of those emotions. In a matter of minutes. In an hour. And then we’re exhausted.

Not all schizoids experience this, and I’m not sure whether to envy those people or to pity them. Envy, because these emotions are all negative. Who needs that negativity in their life? But also pity, because it seems like they’re the only emotions I’m given in this life. Isn’t it sad that some have none at all?

I try to approach it positively and say “at least you have these emotions. If you have the negative ones, maybe the positive ones are hidden inside you as well. You just need to find the correct trigger to bring them out.”

Some schizoids say they don’t want to experience any emotions. I don’t think I’m one of them. I’d rather have a day without emotions than with only negative emotions, but I’d like to go back to positive emotions one day. I don’t want to fake being happy at a party, as I usually do.

And if I can’t have emotions, then all that’s left is achievement in life. To make value in my life, to accrue wealth or status or experience. I don’t mind dying poor as long as I’m not miserable. But imagine dying miserable and weak and poor, that sucks. I don’t want that.

Take care, and remember, if you have anything to share, your own wisdom or your own experience, my askbox is always open.

#schizoid personality disorder #schizoid #autism #anger outburst #ptsd #blog

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jimlingss · 5 years

Text

Jungle Park [4]

Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 4.5 OR Chapter 5

➜ Words: 5.7k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

➜ Warnings: swearing

Right as things seem to be improving and you’re slowly being less ostracized by the others, it plummets all to hell again. It’s no wonder that so many people hate HR. You’re constantly going after the employees and you’re really beginning to feel like Hoseok’s personal henchman. “Am I being fired?” Lisa cuts straight to the point, eyeing how the conference room door is closed and the shades have been drawn for the utmost privacy. She faces you from across the table and glances at Hoseok who’s behind you, chair against the wall, preoccupied with some work and flipping through a stack of papers. “No, no, you’re not,” you try to reassure the female receptionist to no avail. You’re perfectly aware that out of everyone, Lisa has the most hostility towards you. It’s justified too, since you basically fired her best friend and now she thinks you have it out for the receptionists. “Then what is it?” “I would like to just brush up on the dress code with you.” You try your best to offer the kindest smile while damning Hoseok on why he made you do this. It’s your job, but still. “It’s not a huge deal, but the firm’s dress code is business professional and it applies to everyone. For men, it’s buttoned suits with ties or dress pants and sports jackets. And women can wear pencil skirts or dress pants with a top and jacket, or a dress or suit as well. Muted and neutral colours are generally encouraged, but there’s some flexibility there. Shoes can be opened toed or closed, as long as they’re not sandals or sneakers or boots...” Your hands are clasped on the table and you continue, “There are a lot of choices to choose from. But Jung and Park find it especially important for you to adhere to the dress code because you greet clients that come in. In a way, you’re the face of the entire firm—” “So what you’re saying is you want me to button up my blouse more?” She interrupts you and her glare is directed towards Hoseok for a few seconds before she looks down at her own shirt. “Yes.” You retain your reserved smile, keeping your voice light and trying your best to clearly deliver your message without misunderstandings. “It’s a bit revealing. You look fantastic! I really like your fashion sense! But maybe it’s more appropriate for an evening out with friends rather than a professional office setting.” “Maybe people shouldn’t let their eyes wander,” she mutters passive aggressively and moves on before you can address her concern. “If the dress code is so important, then I’d like to tell you that Taehyung comes in his pajamas sometimes.” “I will talk to him about it,” you promise her and she nods, already moving to do up two more buttons on her white blouse. “How is Dahyun? Is she doing alright with you?” “She’s fine,” Lisa says in a curt tone. “If this is all, can I go now?” “Uh...yes, you can go now. Thank you for this discussion.” It’s shorter and easier than what you were preparing for. In the next few seconds, the receptionist swiftly stood and opened the door, waltzing out. You’ve also stood up, shuffling your stack of papers. Hoseok continues to sit there without moving, flipping to his next page, but the corner of his mouth moves. “You need to be more stern,” he mumbles, barely coherent. “I’m doing fine,” you tell him and with that, you leave. No one said your job would be easy. When Jimin told you this place was full of high conflict, he wasn’t kidding. It seems like office drama and gossip runs like the wild west here. But recently, the flood of complaints made against each other seemed to stop entirely. Maybe people didn’t want to file official complaints or they simply decided to band together against you and Hoseok. If it’s the latter reason, you’re happy that you at least got to lessen the tension around the office. It takes teamwork to revolt against authority figures. And….well, even if no one wants to be your friend anymore, you still like your job. It’s a lot better than driving a damn taxi around. “Um, Y/N?” There’s a timid knock on your door and you bolt your head upright, tearing your eyes away from the computer screen. At the doorway, Sebin linger hesitantly, arms holding onto a thick file. “Do...do you have some time?’ “Of course!” You stand, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. Nonetheless, you welcome her in and when she takes a seat, you happily close the door for privacy. You just can’t believe that someone’s actually here, greeting you, asking for your help, and you’re about to pull out all stops. “What can I do for you?” “I just need to talk to someone.” The girl brushes her long brunette hair until it’s behind her, draping her backside. Her eyes divert to her lap, fingers playing with the hem of her beige pencil skirt before she looks up at you. “I’ve been having a hard time recently.” “Do you know what you’re having a hard time with? Is it your family or your personal life or is it because of someone in the office?” She shakes her head with a modest smile. “No, no one’s been anything but nice to me here. I just feel stuck.” You nod, actively listening and reading her expression. “Can you elaborate? What do you mean by stuck?” “I just…” The legal assistant sighs, a heavy exhale squeezing from her lungs. “I wonder what I’m doing. I like my job. I think it’s easy and straightforward. It pays the bills too. I really love and adore everyone here. Jimin was the one who hired me and I feel like I owe it to him to stick this out...but I don’t know...I keep thinking about it and I can’t get rid of this feeling.” “Sebin, you don’t owe it to anyone to stick it out.” You repeat her exact words and you reach across your desk to squeeze her hand. “There’s no one here who would understand better than Jimin.” She smiles, thankful that you’re offering her comfort. “I don’t know if this is what I want for myself anymore. But if I leave this place, I don’t know where I will go, I don’t know where I would get money.” “Do you have any savings?” “I do. But what if I can’t find another job? What if no one’s hiring? I know the economy isn’t great.” “At this point, I don’t think the economy will ever be good.” You grin and she laughs behind her hand, agreeing with you. “There are a lot of reasons why you shouldn't do something. Sometimes...you just gotta go for it, as stupid as that sounds.” The girl is kind of surprised. She expected you to coerce her to stay and she wondered if you’d just turn around and tattle to Hoseok later. She wouldn’t be all that shocked if Hoseok chucked a cardboard box at her head and told her to clean out her desk before the end of the day for even thinking of leaving her job. But Sebin is pleased to hear your encouragements and a part of her thinks you won’t tell Hoseok. Your sincerity reaches her. “Can you be honest with me?” “Of course,” you reassure, wondering when you’ve ever been dishonest. “Do you think it’s dumb?” The paralegal makes wild gestures with her hands. “I mean...my job right now isn’t hard…” “Just because it’s easy, it doesn’t mean you’ll like it.” You hum and begin to reminisce. “I’ve been at jobs for the sake of money before and I was miserable the entire time. Actually, I only have this position right now because I made the decision to quit my old job….for the same reasons as you.” You continue, “And as hard as this job can be sometimes, I love it a lot. I don’t think there’s anything I’d rather do than be here and help people, get to know them and boost office morale while still being a part of the team.” Sebin smiles warmly, in awe at how you speak so passionately even when you know HR is a mundane job. “I’m not even sure of what I want.” “Well…” You lean back. “If money wasn’t a concern, what would you want to do?” “I don’t know.” It’s a typical question, but the legal assistant considers it carefully. “I’d travel. I’d eat a lot. I...I always wanted to become a teacher, so maybe I’d do that. I had a job as a teacher’s aide before. I just never thought I could be an actual teacher. Somewhere along the way, I applied for this job...and then I stuck to it.” “And now you’re really stuck,” you say lightheartedly and she nods. “I think you would be a great teacher, Sebin. You have the patience for it for sure and it’s never really too late to do anything. If you have savings, you could do it, return to school and see what you need to complete your degree. There’re tons of bursaries and scholarships for adult students as well. In fact, I may have something for you.” You open your left drawer, thanking the heavens of your bad habit of taking brochures that you don’t need. In ten seconds, you’ve fished for the right one and you slide the pamphlet over to her. “You can also continue working while going to school. There’s a lot of options out there.” The girl’s eyes are glazed over, holding back tears. “Thank you for this, Y/N. I really appreciate it. I had no one else to talk to and...this just means a lot to me.” “No problem.” If you were happy before, now you were on a high. Why should people do drugs when helping people was for free? “If you want, you can keep me updated on what you decide, but you don’t have to. My door’s always open if you need to talk to someone.” At the end of the conversation, the both of you are over the moon. Sebin leaves while dabbing her eyes with the back of her hand and you’re ecstatic that you actually got to help someone in their career development. At this rate, you’re sure she’ll still be working while going to school part-time, eventually becoming a teacher, or maybe not. She’s promised to see where things go and to take steps to make herself happier. And you couldn’t be happier yourself. Except, the next day, someone by the name of Jung Hoseok takes a big fat dump on your bliss. “You called me?” You pop your head through the door and he motions you in. You’re forced to awkwardly shuffle, moving to stand in front of his desk like you’re an elementary student about to be scolded by the principal. “Explain this to me.” He throws a letter onto his desk and he glares at you hard enough to set your skin aflame. “Sebin just handed me her two weeks notice.” Oh shit. Turns out she won’t be working and going to school at the same time. Maybe it’s better that she fully focuses on achieving her goal. It’s a good decision either way. But you don’t tell Hoseok any of your thoughts. Instead, you manage a skeptical expression. “And you called me because…?” “Because she came in here talking about being stuck and her dreams and needing to take charge of her life. I was thinking about who could’ve fed her all this nonsense and I realized that it could only be you.” There’s a murderous look in his eye and you begin to break a sweat. If Hoseok didn’t hate you before, now he definitely did. You scramble to reply, “That...that’s a big assumption. Aren’t lawyers supposed to avoid assumptions?” “Do you realize that in this busy season, we cannot afford to lose an important member of staff?” “Yes.” “Do you know how much work it will take to hire another paralegal that will fulfill the correct requirements and fit the needs of this office?” “Yes,” you mutter before adding on, “but isn’t it my job to find someone suitable?” Jung Hoseok is not amused and from the way he glares at you dead in the eyes and his hands are clasped, it makes you ponder if this is what Satan looks like in hell. “Did she or did she not visit you in the past few days?” “She did.” “And what did you talk about?” “That is confidential material.” “I am your boss and it is your job to tell me,” he demands and your life flashes before your eyes. You wonder if this is the end, if he’ll toss his sharp scissors at your exposed neck and the rest of the lawyers will end up hiding your corpse and burning it in some forest. They’d get away with it too, considering they’re the top lawyers in the industry. Oh god. How would your mom even react if your death became an unsolved mystery? “Either way, you would’ve had to fill out a report, correct? I could always read it.” “Sometimes reports are not necessary to fill out,” you mumble while scratching your hair and downcasting your head. The lawyer seated across from you persists without missing a single beat. “Did you or did you not speak to Sebin about her professional goals?” “Perhaps.” “Did you at any point suggest that she should quit if she is feeling unhappy?” You’ve watched enough law television shows to know how to respond. It might be ridiculous, but you don’t care. “I refuse to respond on the grounds that it may incriminate me.” Hoseok’s frown deepens, but the corner of his mouth twitches. You’re not sure if he’s become slightly amused or absolutely furious with you. “Are you….are you pleading the fifth?” He asks it like he can’t believe his own ears. You cringe in your spot, avoiding his glare. “Yes.” “This is not an interrogation.” “Then what am I doing here?” The male is brought to a loss for words, so he simply scoffs. He pinches the bridge of his nose and waves you away with his other hand. “Get out of here before I toss my mug at you.” “That’s a threat and verbally abusive, also highly inappropriate.” Despite your words, your legs bolt upwards and you’re on your toes again, collecting yourself as you slowly back away from his desk. “Just letting you know as HR.” “You’re testing me,” he chimes and returns back to his work. “Alright...goodbye.” You run for your life and Hoseok lifts his chin, staring at the space where you just occupied. The corner of his tilt mouth again and he lets out a hopeless puff of air through his parted lips before it stretches into the smallest of smiles. // If life at the office could be charted, it would be one of the craziest graphs you would need to draw. The line would currently dip and rise, like the drop and incline of a rollercoaster with no stops. Often times when you’re having the time of your life, it plummets to the bottom. And when you’re having the worst time, things improve so drastically, you remember why you wanted this job in the first place. At the moment, it feels like things were at a standstill, half between the rise and fall of good and bad. While the employees of the firm aren’t exactly friendly with you anymore, they aren’t hostile or passive aggressive either. Sure, you’re almost certain Hoseok hates your guts and probably wants to throw you out of his window, Jimin has been nothing but understanding and kind. Things are okay. But it’s about to be a new low for you. “Are you the one who fired my girlfriend?!” “Pardon?” You frown in confusion, forced to a halt in front of the office building as the car pulls up on the curb. An unfamiliar man has his head popped out of the window, half his body hanging out as he angrily screams the question at you. It’s only nine a.m. in the morning and your mind is still numb without coffee. “Are you the fucking HR bitch that fired my girlfriend?!” He repeats, shouting so loudly that it hurts your ears. What you don’t notice is who is sitting in the driver seat and the familiar lawyer that is walking down the street, noticing the commotion going on. It happens too quickly. The driver of the car moves the man out of the way to see out the window. You recognize the ex-receptionist immediately and she wastes no time to point an accusatory finger at you. Kei frowns and shrieks, “That’s her!” The man in the passenger seat brings up a bucket from in-between his feet and then there’s a sudden stream that glistens in the morning sunshine. There is the sound of sloshing that follows. The beads glimmer against the light like stars and then it falls like a tsunami. You’re doused in cold water. It shocks your system, hair drenched and clothes dripping, doused from head to toe. There are gasps that surround you, people passing by that move out of the way to not get wet. The man shouts, “Drive, drive!” And then tires screech on pavement as it pulls off and zips down the road. Hoseok runs over towards you and pulls out his phone, swiftly snapping a shot of the license plate before the car is too far gone. If you thought he was furious before, now he was completely livid. “What the fuck!” His hands curl around your shoulders, firm yet still gentle, and he doesn’t notice when you flinch from his touch. “Are you okay??! Y/N?!” The man searches your face before he locks his eyes with yours. “I...I’m fine.” You’re violently shivering, still shocked by the sudden change of temperature and also humiliated by people’s stares. “It’s just water, I’m fine. It’ll dry off.” He doesn’t wait and takes off his suit jacket, draping it over you as if it could warm you up and shield you away from stranger’s gazes. The security guard of the building runs out while catching his breath and Hoseok casts one mere glance at him. “Give me the footage of that security camera.” “You got it,” he responds and goes off again. “Hoseok.” “Do you have a change of clothes with you? Actually no, go home,” he says it quickly, nearly getting whiplash at how fast he turns to look at you again. You can’t imagine taking the subway in this state and he must read your expression well with the next question he asks. “Did you drive here or do you need me to drive you home? Wait, no, we need to file a police report as soon as possible. Okay, let me drive you home to change and then we can head to the police station and file a police report.” “Wait…” “We can get a restraining order by noon. See if we can press charges on grounds of harassment and assault and verbal abuse. From now on, I’m your attorney, understand?” “Listen to me,” you say as calmly as possible whilst gazing into his eyes. “I don’t want to press charges or file a police report. I’m fine.” His jaw clenches and the knit between his brows deepen. “No. You do not get to argue with me on this.” “It was water. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” You just want to go away from the prying eyes and pitiful stares. “I’ll dry off. And she was just upset, she lost her job.” “That does not justify her actions. Why do you let this happen to you?! Are you really okay with it?!” Hoseok’s composure is completely lost and he steps away, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Fine, you might not want to press charges, but I’m still going to get a restraining order for this office. I have a responsibility to protect my employees, do you understand? And you are my employee. No one is allowed to hurt you or put you in danger.” You’re caught in a trance, staring into his brown irises that seems to catch light in all the right places. Eventually, you’re pulled back to attention when Sunyi comes rushing over, asking what happened. Miraculously, the lawyer has a change of clothing since she was planning to switch to more formal attire to meet an important client at two. She’s happy to let you borrow her clothes. The ride up to the floor is uncomfortable and smothering. Everyone in the office stops to gawk, baffled out of their minds at the sight of you, considering you look like you went showering in your attire. But no one whispers or murmurs since Hoseok stomps into Jimin’s office and the door slams shut, hard enough to cause the hinges to break and the goddamn wall to crumble. You change and Seulgi makes a cup of hot coffee to warm you up. Even Lisa lingers in the kitchen and asks if you’re alright. Within the hour, Hoseok appears again, beelining from his partner’s office to yours. He seems much calmer now, vein no longer popping at his forehead, wrinkles no longer prominent and brows not furrowed. “I know you don’t want to press charges. Tell me if you change your mind, but the entire firm is getting a restraining order against both parties. She will not be allowed to be within five hundred meters of this office building.” There’s an extended silence. The lawyer nods, having nothing more to say and he turns to walk out. “Hoseok.” Your voice stops him. “Thank you.” “It’s a given,” he murmurs in an oddly softer tone and then turns so you can see the profile of his visage. The edge of his mouth lifts. “You’re my responsibility, you know....even if you are a headache.” You smile back at him and he leaves.

As usual, with the new low, comes a new high. And you can only hope naively that things stay this way forever. Rumours of what Kei did to you spread and they evolve to become wilder versions — ones where you threw yourself in front of Hoseok and protected him, or she had hired a hitman to harm people in the office, but you blocked the entrance and protected them. If anything, you’re amused over these stories. But more importantly, the employees of the firm become more pleasant towards you, like when you first joined and won their trust. Maybe they turned a new leaf because they finally realized your job wasn’t as jolly and chummy as it seemed on the outside. Maybe they felt guilty since in the back of their minds, they knew you were being shunned. Maybe their kindness derives from pity. Whatever the case may be, you don’t mind. The others are surprised at how Sebin is close to you. She chooses to sit beside you during lunchtime in the break room and chatters on happily. She even tells you how she got accepted into the first post-secondary institution of her choosing and Hoseok wrote her one of the best recommendation letters that brought her to tears; it turns out the lawyer isn’t angry that she isn’t staying. Before the paralegal leaves, everyone celebrates with cake in the conference room, bidding her goodbye and telling her to visit. You’re sad that one of your best friends have left, but it doesn’t last too long when Seulgi invites you out to lunch one afternoon and the two of you have a fun chat. Even Sunyi has returned to your office every other day to do her regular complaints about Yoongi. Things are good. For the most part. “Good morning.” “Morning.” The elevator doors shut and the tension between you two and the small space is enough to suffocate you. You should’ve known he was close behind you and maybe you would’ve waited for another elevator or took the stairs. Sure, you probably would’ve ended up sticky with sweat, but it would be better than standing alone next to Jung Hoseok. All you do is focus on the rising numbers flashing over the doors…. Until there’s a large ‘clack’, the floor jolting and causing you to grip the side bars. The overhead lights flash for a moment. The bulbs die off, engulfing you in darkness before flickering back on. “That doesn’t sound good,” you mutter underneath your breath and Hoseok moves to spam the elevator buttons. They don’t light up. The elevator doesn’t move. The numbers stay the same. He curses and hits the ‘call for help’ button. “Not again.” He fishes out his phone and speed dials Jimin. At the same time, the intercom flares to life and he doesn’t wait for them. “We’re stuck in elevator two between floors seven and eight.” The woman on the other side remains impassive. “We’re on our way.” Jimin doesn’t pick up and he hangs up with a sigh. Wonderful. As if being in the same elevator with just Hoseok wasn’t painful enough, now you were trapped with him. Trapped. For god knows how long. “Does….” You attempt to break the silence and you finally shift to look at him. “Does this happen often?” “Often enough for it not to be surprising,” Hoseok mutters and sits on the ground. You decide to follow his lead, moving to lean up against the corner of the elevator with your legs out in front of you. There’s a moment of quiet before the lawyer speaks, “The last time this damn elevator did this, it was stuck for four hours.” He pauses and looks at you, smooth timbre quieting, “We should designate a peeing corner. My bladder is beginning to hurt.” Your eyes are full of horror. “Wh-what?” “I’m kidding!” He laughs at your expression. The sound of his laughter is tinkling, foreign to your ears. It’s as if sunshine itself is emitting from his mouth. “In what world would I actually piss in the corner of an elevator? And we’ll probably get out here in ten minutes.” “Oh.” It was a joke. Hoseok’s little chuckles fade off and he looks at you with a smile. “Lighten up, you always act like I’m going to bite your head off.” “Aren’t you?” Underneath your placid exterior, you’re shaken from his lightheartedness and teasing. At the moment, you’re not too sure who’s sitting next to you and if this is the same man who rules the office with an iron fist. But you know this is also a part of him he doesn’t show in the firm — though it painfully reminds you of something long ago. “That would get me arrested and trust me, you don’t want to see prison version of Hoseok.” You grin at how he refers to himself in third person. “What’s prison version of Hoseok?” “Someone who tries to escape and fails and ends up crying pathetically on a cold prison floor with a tramp stamp tattoo of a red butterfly,” he drones on and ends up sounding completely done with his life. You can’t help the giggles that bubble up your throat and he smiles, able to make both your predicaments better. The elevator suddenly creaks, sounding like nuts and bolts tumbling and you quirk your head to one side, grabbing the bar by your head tighter. “The elevator won’t suddenly fall, right? We won’t die, right?” “Don’t worry. If we do, the building will be liable for our deaths and Jimin will sue them.” “Great to know I’ll have a chunk of money in my coffin,” you deadpan and this time, he’s the one laughing. You watch the way his mouth draws up slightly into a heart shape when he’s grinning and how his eyes crinkle softly. The words spill before you can stop them. “Do you really not remember?” His laughs slowly fade away, the last of them streaming from his chest before he looks over at you, tilting his chin towards you, lips together but still pulled into a smile. “Remember what?” You stare at him for a moment before tearing your eyes to the closed silver doors. “Never mind.” “No.” He won’t take no for an answer, not when his irises are sparkling with both mischief and curiosity. “What is it?” “Nothing.” You shrug. “There’s no point if you don’t remember. It was like twelve years ago.” “What? Did you do me wrong and now I don’t remember?” “Not telling.” “Tell,” he demands childishly and leans over like he’s going to crawl closer to you. You’d rather climb up the elevator shaft like Spiderman and end up dying because you’re not Spiderman than to have him close the already small distance between the two of you. “Okay fine!” Luckily, he stops moving and you swallow hard. “I freeloaded off a group project with you.” You watch his reaction. “If you didn’t notice on my résumé, we went to the same university. But actually, we were also in the same finance class in our second year together. It was a long time ago.” “That’s it?” An endeared expression appears on his features. “That’s what you were so worried about?” “Of course, I’m worried! I freeloaded off of you! We were supposed to meet at a library, but I was in a board game club and I ditched you because I was winning at Monopoly.” As if it helps, you add on, “Which I ended up winning, by the way.” “Really?” The little shit is grinning, finding your story all the too amusing, from how you were in a board game club to how you actually knew each other and not just by name. “We failed.” “Well, that’s not too bad.” He muses, “Thought there was something deeper or more important.” “It was forty percent of our grade,” you counter. There’s a bit of a pause and then he shrugs. “.....I still made it as a lawyer and you made it as an HR member.” Since all of this is out and the open, you figure you might as well spill all the beans. “And you may or may not have asked me out to a coffee date, but I rejected you.” A part of you almost hopes that he’ll remember. Except, he doesn’t. “Okay, now I’m just hurt.” He puts a hand over his chest where his heart should be, an over dramatic reaction and he gasps. “How could you?” You laugh and he smiles at the sound, arm dropping into his lap. “Sounded like we were friends back then.” “Acquaintances,” you correct. “Well, the past is the past and it’s not like I can even remember, so you can stop tiptoeing around me.” “I’m not tiptoeing!” You defend, despite it being a complete lie. For the first time, you actually feel at ease being in Hoseok’s presence, like the weight of the past is no longer on your shoulders. It’s nice to talk to him like this, like the both of you are adults with no baggage or resentments. “Yeah, you are.” His eyebrow is cocked. “I know the rest of them are scared of me, but they have reason to be. You don’t. You haven’t fucked up yet.” You’re surprised. “I haven’t?” “Annoying if anything, but no, you haven’t really.” “I’m glad.” You smile to yourself, fiddling with your fingers and looking in your lap. There’s another thought that comes into your mind, but you wonder if you would be overstepping your boundaries. Still, you can’t imagine a better time than now. Your voice is a soft whisper when you speak, full of hesitancy, “Was your accident that bad that you can’t remember anything?” “Hey!” He scoffs in offence. “I remember everything. Just not the small details like acquaintances and stuff. But yeah, I hit a lamp post on the highway and ended up in the hospital for a year of recovery. It was rough.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s fine. It actually worked out in the end since Jimin came to me and told me he had plans of opening a law firm one day and wanted me as a partner. That helped me get off my ass and I finished my third year of law school, did a year of articling for another divorce firm, and then Jimin and I started this place.” “That’s really amazing.” The words spill out in awe. “A lot of sleepless nights.” “But you made it.” “Sure did.” He turns to gaze at you. “You did too.” “Yeah…” The ten-minute estimate turns into twenty and with enough of Hoseok yelling over the intercom for what’s taking so long, you both eventually get freed from the elevator. The paralegals end up crowding you after, asking if being trapped with Hoseok for that long was as horrible as it seemed and if you wanted to hit your head on the walls and die, but you only shrug and keep your responses positive. In reality, you enjoyed talking to him a lot. You missed it. Hoseok disappears for the rest of the day for court proceedings, Yoongi and Taehyung following him and giving him a headache with their bickering. It’s almost as if the conversation and reconnection never happened and you’re a bit disappointed, but then the next day, you have him knocking on your door. “Is there something wrong?” “No.” He plops down his second coffee on your desk and takes a sip with the one in his right hand. You stare at the cup, not sure what he wants you to do with it or if he’s putting it down temporarily. “It’s yours.” You hold it, looking up at him. “Mine?” “It’s my offering of our truce.” Truce. Hoseok ends up leaving without looking at you and your bright smile. In your life, you’ve never had such delicious coffee before.

#Bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts fluff #hoseok fluff #hoseok fanfic #BTS JUNG HOSEOK AS.....an asshole??? OR IS HE??//#OC who's past is shady as allll hellll

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erintoknow · 5 years

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Family

i had things i wanted to do today that weren’t writing, but okay brain, go off? fallen hero fanfic, chargestep, content warning for some sucidal thinking, but not much i hope? also; kissing!? oh no | ~3.1k words

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You ought to be using Jane: to scope out your next hit, to maintain her network of contacts, to catch up with Dr. Mortum. That would be a productive use of your time.

So of course you aren’t doing that.

You’re in front of your work desk, sleeves rolled up as far as you dare. Your suit doesn’t need repairs, but getting in that marginal improvement to the Rat King’s coolant system is better than sleep. Better than making corpses walk. Better than stupid meaningless dreams of coughing blood and their fuzzy half-memories tasting smoke and death. Don’t think about gunshots and lightning, the smiling reflection dripping shark teeth.

Focus on the soldering torch in your hand and the music in your headphones.

It doesn’t matter what you play. Whatever you can get your hands on, the best genre is free after all. Right now it’s some woman you’ve never heard of before with a low sometimes raspy, sometimes screaming voice. She’s energetic, easy to sing along with while you re-solder wiring for the third time.

You don’t recognize that it’s your phone ringing until the fourth chime. You almost drop the torch into your lap scrambling to pick it up before the call goes to voicemail. “Who’s this?”

“Ari!” Oh, it’s Ortega. Of course it is. Why the haste to pick up the phone anyway? Who else was it going to be? The President? God??

“Ortega.” Don’t sound excited, don’t sound relieved to hear her voice.

“I know it’s short notice, but are you busy right now?”

Say yes you’re busy, way, way, too busy, hang up on her. “No, I’m pretty bored for once, what’s up?”

“Great! Can we meet up?”

Don’t say yes. Don’t say yes. Don’t say yes. “Yeah, sure, where?”

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The smell of salt under oil. The water hasn’t been safe to swim in since before you were ‘born.’ Yet, a part of you yearns to run out to the sand and into the crash. Hazy memories of another beach, another shore. Nothing you can remember, more like 0 kb files tucked away in somewhere.

“Careful, with all that fabric on you’ll sink.” Ortega nudges you.

“I’ll just have to push you in first for a raft.” You shoot back.

“You’d think I’d float with all this metal in me?”

“All that hot air makes you a very buoyant old woman.”

You don’t need to look at her to know she’s frowning at that, and just knowing that is enough to bring a small smile. You want to grab her hand, feel the disks of metal that give her namesake. You don’t. You can’t. She’s your enemy even if she doesn’t realize it. Even if you don’t realize it.

The wind pulls at the rat’s nest you call hair. Maybe you’ll start trying to comb it again. Just to keep Ortega from worrying even more about you. You can worry enough for the both of you. “Why’d you want to meet up so suddenly, anyway?”

You can’t read her mind, but you know her enough to pick up on the change in vibe, the way she shifts in how she carries herself. It sets you on full alert. “There’s something I’ve been sitting on for a while actually.”

“Oh?” You try to sound casual, like there aren’t sirens ringing in your head. Like you aren’t glancing around for the best route back up the beach where Ortega can’t follow.

“There’s just never been a good time for it…” She glances at you, and the two of you meet eyes. There’s no hiding your fear that way and she grimaces at it. “Do you have any family? Still around, I mean.”

You can’t take her gaze on you, you step away towards the water, feel the sand crunch under your boots, hide your arms under your shawl. “Family?” You ask, your confusion at least genuine enough. It’s been a long, long, time since Ortega fished that well. “What’s bringing this on?”

“After you…”

“Died?”

“After that. At the funeral–“

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

I’m in deep shit now. The red and blue of ambulance lights reflect off the wall through the window, as I hunch over in the chair. Honestly, it’s just a broken nose, he’ll live. He deserves worse for what he was saying about you. And yet, I’m the one here hiding in the minister’s office while everyone else loads into their cars. Steel puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezes, lets go. I’d rather he give a lecture, that would be at least a gasp of normalcy. I nod at him, he nods back, leaves without saying a word. He’d make a better Marshal than I ever did. He wouldn’t punch out a reporter live on national television. He wouldn’t have gotten you killed.

Everyone else has left by now, probably all gossiping about the fiasco. There’s something unnerving about being alone in an empty church. I wonder what you or Themmy would think of all this. You both would probably both be mortified. A church service? With a priest? Well… you don’t get a vote any more, should have stuck around if you had objections.

“H-hello? Excuse me?”

I look up from my hands, wipe at my eyes to clear my vision. Peering around the doorway is a woman in funeral garb and long straight hair dyed a deep shade of blue, an anxious expression on her face. If it wasn’t for the hair job, I’m guessing she was late thirties, early forties, has that soccer-mom build to her. Older the me, at any rate. I try to look normal. Not like the kind of person who loses it and decks the press. “Can I help you?”

“You’re, uh, you were Alex’s friend then, weren’t you?” Alex? Who’s Alex? The woman looks ready to bolt at any moment. “You are, right? Sorry, I don’t normally make a habit of pestering heroes.”

God, I don’t have it in me right now to be normal, never mind deal with fans. Try to smile, it feels fake, offer a handshake to draw her into the room. It’s a limp pantomime and ends mercifully quickly. “Just Ortega is fine. I don’t believe we’ve met…?”

“Chelsea Becker.” She says as we let our hands drop. That gets my attention. No way that’s a coincidence. You never talked about your family, no matter how many times I tried to get you to open up. Hardly the only fortress you kept locked down tight, but here was someone who might open a gate.

I straighten up in my chair, examining Chelsea with renewed interest. There is a slight resemblance, I guess, with the more angular, almost boyish features, but nothing definitive, nothing I could point to say, ‘a-ha.' So instead I start with a “So you knew…?”

“Alex, or um, ‘Sidestep,’ I guess?” Chelsea says, then hesitates before adding, “but maybe sh- they used a different name with you?” A tiredness seeps into her voice. “That would be just like them.” She steps around a box of church candles, rests her hands on the minister’s desk. “They hoarded names like some women hoard jewelry.”

There’s a pain in my chest, I have to force myself to unclench my hands, keep my arms from tensing up. Practice a calming exercise. Stay smooth. I’ll never live it down if a stray spark of static burns down a church. “Yeah, I–” I have to swallow the words first, “–I was Alex’s friend. I’m sorry, she never mentioned…?”

“Oh, I’d be shocked if she had,” Chelsea doesn’t laugh, just forces a small smile as she pushes some papers aside to sit on top of the desk, letting her feet dangle. “If you knew Alex, you know trying to get her to talk about herself was worse than pulling teeth. Never when you wanted, and when she did, always in tears.”

“She was a private woman.” I say in agreement. It feels like a safe enough statement.

“We hadn’t talked in years anyway.” Chelsea says, not hiding the bitterness in her voice. “We had a big fight about the whole vigilante thing.”

I don’t say anything, I don’t think I need to, thank God. Just listen as this stranger pours her heart out about you. She’s another hurting woman looking for a confessional, and Marshal Charge is never off-duty.

“I have no idea where she came from. Just one day, I’m suddenly watching out for this stick of a thing too proud- no, I think, too afraid to accept help.” Chelsea lets out a long shaky breath, and tilts her head to look me with red, puffy eyes. “Had to keep tricking her into thinking she was helping me rather the other way around. Wasn’t easy.” She gives a brittle smile.

I find myself returning her smile with an exhausted one of mine own. “Misdirection was definitely the name of the game.” I say. “In more ways than one.”

“She had this whole fantasy about making a difference and I–” Her voice hitches. “I told her. I warned her; she couldn’t afford mods and she wasn’t a boost. She was going to throw her life away for nothing.” She balls her hands into fists as she talks. “It was insane idea and she was an idiot who was going to get herself killed.”

“A lot of people owe her their lives,” I gently counter, saying it as much for myself as for her. I should follow the script, put a hand on hers, or her knee, or her shoulder or something. Say some gentle meaningless comforter. Instead I’m trying to process what she’s saying, how it all fits together in the ‘Ariadne Becker’ puzzle box.

Chelsea bangs her fist against the side of the desk. “I know that, God damnit. Everyone knows about the damn Nanosurge. I followed every damn report I could. I just wish–“

“That it wasn’t the last thing you said to her.” I finish. The cold comfort of the script finally coming to me. It’s nothing I haven’t had to say a dozen too many times before, and it feels robotic, inadequate, every time.

“The last time I saw her was right after her first big fight in costume. I told her I was leaving Los Diablos to take a job in Atlanta.” Chelsea bangs the desk again, face twisted in anguish, or guilt, or both. “I couldn’t afford to turn it down. It was just a bad coincidence. But… I don’t think she took it that way. She was always so scared, so paranoid, despite everything. I’d have taken her with me if I could have.”

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

Ortega pauses in mid-sentence, then shakes her head. “Do you know a… Chelsea Becker?” She asks, holding her breath.

A dozen different scenarios run through your head, all of them terrify and paralyze you. “I mean, those are both pretty common names,” you say cautiously, “why?”

“Someone I met at the funeral.” Ortega’s words make you want to sink into the earth, run into the sea. Do anything to get out of this conversation. “Ariadne…” Ortega continues, trepidation in her voice. She’s either oblivious to what’s going on in your head or pushing ahead without mercy. "Is she your mom?”

You blink.

You can’t help it. You start laughing.

Doubled over and clutching your sides. You can’t see straight. Julia calls out, alarmed, and she grabs you by the shoulders before you can fall onto the rocks. “Ariadne!” She taps you lightly on the face. You have to blink the water out of your eyes.

“My mom? You thought she was my mother!?” You repeat, incredulous. No point playing coy after that outburst. You struggle to get a grip on yourself, dig your fingers into Julia’s arms instead. “What did you tell her?”

“I just admitted I knew you, that’s all.” Julia raises her voice, defensive, confused.

“Why was she even there?” You ask, your fascination burning through the absurdity now. There’s nothing Chelsea could possibly know about you that would endanger you now, but it’s never good to get blindsided like this. Past lives, alternate lives, all crashing into each other behind your back. Fuck, what a mess.

Julia gives you a pained look, “It was your funeral, Ariadne. She flew in from Atlanta for it.”

That gets a pang in your chest. You don’t understand it. Stare up at the cloudless sky, the circling seagulls. They don’t have any answers either, brainless feathery assholes. “Ortega, I swear I’m telling the truth, she’s not and i quote, my “mom.” wow, you almost killed me with that.” Of course she’s not, what on earth happened between the two of them to give Julia that impression? Why would she have shown up at all? “Why would she do that?” You whisper, humor giving away to bewilderment.

“She cared about you, of course she came.” Julia insists.

“No she didn’t, you senile old woman. Why would she?” you snap back. You let go of Ortega, try to disentangle yourself from her arms and stand back up again. “Look, you want the truth? Chelsea and I were on the same bus to Los Diablos, like, fourteen years ago.” You shrug, trying to make it seem like no big deal, to play it off. “We ran into each other maybe a few times afterwards, I guess? She was just another busybody who never left well-enough alone. And then one day she did up and leave and that was that. Sound familiar to you?” That’s not a fair barb and you know it. You pull away from her, eager to put some distance between the two of you. You don’t want to see her reaction to that. Power-walk down that beach, restless, aimless. Pull yourself together, remember you’re among enemies: always.

Ortega follows behind, dogging your steps. Never taking the hint, or maybe taking it too well? The problem with lying so regularly is that when it comes time to tell the truth, how can you prove it?

“And your last name?” She asks.

You turn around to face her. “Cosmic coincidence.” You lie, staring her in the eye. Is this the closest either of you have come to openly acknowledging ‘Ariadne Becker’ is a name you made up? You don’t know how to feel about that; how to feel about a lot of things right now.

Ortega doesn’t back down. “I think you should know… she was proud of you.”

You resume walking, put distance between the two of you. “She was proud of an imaginary dead woman then.” You spit out. You hunch your shoulders, pull your shawl up over your chin

Ortega grabs your shoulder from behind as she catches up to you. She slides her hand down following the form of your arm under the shawl. “Stop it.”

You stand there, not looking at her. “Stop what?”

“Stop with the brooding hero routine.”

“Well, I’m no hero, so wish granted.” You should push her away, shrug her off. You want to scream at her. She’s being an idiot. Why does she care about this? Why dig up even more corpses? It’s going to kill her. Why did you come here? Why did you answer her phone call? Why do you keep letting her in?

Ortega pulls at you, hard, forcing you to turn around or be knocked over. She glares at you, and you shrink away from it, from her. “Who stopped the Nanosurge? She demands.

“That’s not–“

“Who’s pulled my ass out of the fire over and over?”

“I was just–“

“Who did an emergency repair so I didn’t electrocute myself in Mexico?”

“I couldn’t just–“

“Who stayed up with me all night after every bad break up?”

You stay quiet.

“Who stayed at my Mamá’s house with us every holiday?”

You can’t look at her.

“Who came to visit me in the hospital after the Gala?”

“…that was a mistake.” You say, voice weak.

“Oh? It was a mistake, was it?” Ortega asks, an edge to her voice. “Were you lying then? Or are you lying now?”

You don’t have a response to that. You need to get out of her grip. You need to get out of here.

“Was that kiss in the elevator a mistake? Or the ones on this beach? What about all the rest of them?”

You want to die. To escape. To not be here right now having this conversation.

“Well, Ariadne Becker, which is it?”

You flinch under the weight she puts on your last name. “…I don’t know.”

There’s a hand on your face, and then Ortega is kissing you. You freeze, every instinct screaming at you to run, and then her other hand wraps around you and tell your instincts to take a hike, and kiss Julia back. It’s too hot for this, so you compromise. You unfasten your broach with one hand and shrug off your shawl onto the rocks before reaching up to run a hand through her hair.

Her teeth catch your lip in the quick pause for breath and then the two of you are fighting to push tongues past each other and it’s gross and you are terrible at it and you keep hitting your noses like drunk jousters and you have no idea what you’re doing while her hands run up your body and you cling to hers as if she’s a life preserver.

It’s the shame of the twinge between your legs that finally pulls you out of it enough to disengage. You pull away from her, smoothing down your shirt, making sure nothing rode up. Cast a quick mental check for any possible witnesses. None, save the seagulls, and honestly? Fuck those guys.

Julia looks at you, face flush, mouth slightly agape. Your heart aches at the sight of it. You don’t want to think about what you look like. You both stand there, in an awkward, flushed silence.

Finally, Julia says, “accept that your mom is proud of you, you pendeja.”

You stare at her. “W-what?”

“You heard me.”

Is this what having a stroke is like? Did you die this morning and no one told you? Are you in hell right now? “Did– did you just… make out with me, to– to– to– to– win an argument about my, my…” you choke on the word, pound your fist against Julia’s shoulder. “Damnit, she’s not my mom! Fucking hell! Shit!”

“She cried for you like one.” Julia’s hand is back on your arm, just firm enough to making running difficult. “Don’t throw those feelings away.”

Your brain is short circuiting. Steel’s going to show up in clown make-up and then you’ll wake up screaming again. “I can’t believe you made out with me to win an argument about my mom.” You whisper, your voice strained, throat tight.

Julia’s expression softens a little, finally. Mercifully. “What can I say?” That old familiar grin slips back onto her face, so smug, so punchable. You want to kiss her again. “I have a unique skillset.”

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #fhr #wlw fanfic #moms are important #mc #ortega #fhr/ariadne #tw: some suicidal thoughts #but not too many i hope #found family #trans character

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kdreamscenario · 5 years

Text

The Boss’ Girl Ch. 11

Lee Minwoo (Shinhwa) X Reader X Jeon Jungkook (BTS)

Office!AU

Rated: M sub!Jungkook, switch!reader, dom!Minwoo

Word Count: 6955 Ch.10

Jungkook puts your stamina boosting advice to good use. When he’s got the time he edges himself nearly to tears. At first he tried not to reimagine you touching him. The humiliation of that day is still bitter and raw but apparently in the best way possible. It didn’t take long until he accepted the kink and caved. He can admit he’d let you do that to him again and again.

The little make out sessions he has with Mina go farther and farther. He can tell she’s less endeared by his holding off. If he wasn’t such a perfect boyfriend besides that she would’ve dumped him. It doesn’t help that he often has dreams about you or Mina. One particularly disturbing dream of you treating him like an actual baby he would like to wipe clear from his memory forever.

He hopes that finally sleeping with Mina will let him forget you and this whole mess. Once Mina finally gets a taste of Jungkook in bed she is insatiable. He was right about learning fast. He also tries incredibly hard to please and perform at his absolute best. Pair that with his charming good looks and his perfect chiseled body, there’s no comparing to anyone Mina had been with previously.

She’s extremely vocal about this at every girls night. All the other girls are understandably jealous. Frankly you’re getting annoyed with her repetitive bragging. It’s not tactful to tell your sex life so openly. You can’t imagine Jungkook would be appreciative of her airing their private business to anyone who will listen.

When the next Friday comes you consider just going home and waiting for Minwoo to call you. He has a business dinner to attend and expects to be out quite late. They’re a long time partner of the company. It’s been a long week and you do need a drink but having to listen to Mina constantly slip in comments about Jungkook is really getting on your nerves.

The office is set up perfectly for Monday morning and you’re picking up your bag to leave. You check your phone one last time to see if anyone else happened to cancel on going out so you wouldn’t be the only one. To you delight, Mina left a message saying she’s headed home. She says she’s been having bad cramps all day and wants to go lie down. Not to be mean but that instantly brightens your mood. It’s very likely she would have Jungkook stay at home with her to treat her like a princess. You could finally enjoy a night out with no problems.

The ding of the elevator doors opening dampens your celebration. It’s completely put out when Jungkook walks into the room. “Jungkook what are you doing here?” You snap a little meaner than you meant to be. He stops and looks surprised by your tone. “Am I not supposed to be here?” He asks looking around at the empty room. “No. Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound that way. I just got a message that Mina isn’t feeling well. I expected you would be with her.”

Jungkook smiles now that he knows you’re not mad. “Yeah. She said she wanted to rest by herself and would probably sleep early.” You figure Mina likely started her period. Knowing her, she wouldn’t want Jungkook to see her in comfy old clothes, eating way too much chocolate, and lounging around with a heating pad. Girls in early relationships have an image to uphold.

“So why are you here then?” You ask in a nicer tone. Jungkook rubs the back of his neck. “Well I’m going out to the bar again with the other interns. I figured you’re also going out with the secretaries. I thought it would be nice of me to walk you there so you weren’t alone.” You can’t help but smile. He’s really such a sweet guy.

“Thank you Jungkook. I appreciate the offer. Though I worry what others will think to see you with me the first time you’re not with Mina.” You say this casting a glance at the security camera wondering if Minwoo is watching you now. Jungkook’s smile drops. “Oh. I hadn’t really thought about that.” He replies sadly. “I’m sure you didn’t. Unfortunately it’s something you need to always think about in this office.” You add annoyed.

“I could at least ride the elevator down with you? I’ll get off on the fourth floor and catch up with Namjoon.” Jungkook suggests. That sounds harmless enough. It’s very unlikely anyone would get on at any of the floors in between. “Sure. We could do that.” You nod and walk toward the elevator. Jungkook follows quickly behind.

Once the metal doors close with the two of you inside, Jungkook clears his throat. “Can I ask you something?” He asks nervously. You look at him eyebrows raised. “I suppose.” “Does Mina talk a lot about our personal life to you ladies?” “Yes she does. Unbearably often and in great detail.” You answer frankly. Jungkook blushes. He’s not sure if he wants to ask just how much you know.

“Do you not like that she talks about it?” You’re genuinely concerned. Jungkook hums and takes a minute to think. “I guess I don’t mind? A lot of the other guys started cheering me right after it first happened and I was wondering how they found out. They don’t really tease me much anymore now so it’s fine.” That answer doesn’t sound very convincing to you. “If you don’t like her talking about it then say something to her. Honestly, please say something to her. We’re all getting a little tired of hearing about it.”

The elevator stops at the fourth floor as you finish saying this. Jungkook nods. “Thanks for the advice. See you at the bar.” He smiles and steps out of the opening doors. You hope he does say something and your Friday nights can go back to normal.

The bar was really just what you needed. The interns, secretaries, and a few others all sit together at a few big tables. There’s lots of good junk food shared around, pleasant conversation, and plenty of drinks. Jungkook sits almost on the other side of the room from you and barely looks in your direction. You almost forget he’s there all together. Mostly you drink your wine and soak in the atmosphere.

By your third glass it’s nearing 10pm. Minwoo sent you a message a few minutes ago saying he’d likely be out at least another hour. Everyone else has started to suggest heading home or going out to another place. There’s the risk of falling asleep, but going home to wait for Minwoo is the best option to you. Maybe you could get a head start on the fun and be ready with something special.

With there being more than just the girls together there wasn’t much gossip or stories to tell so you all paid your own bills. Most of your group is all piled outside at the same time. The sidewalk is a bit crowded before you’re all parting different ways. You’re close to the curb to hail a cab after you’ve said goodbye to everyone.

Two overly drunk guys trying to pass through your group end up knocking into someone. It causes a chain reaction of people getting pushed. You get pushed in the end. When you step you have nowhere to go but over the edge of the curb. Yoona and Sooji manage to grab you before you end up falling face first into the street, but you end up awkwardly turning your ankle. When they pull you back you yelp out in pain stepping with the twisted ankle.

Everyone nearby who saw what happened or heard your shout start asking if you’re okay and what happened. Yoona and a lot of the guys are arguing with the drunkards. You lean most of your weight on Sooji and hold up your hurt leg. You try but you can’t put any weight on it. Namjoon kneels down and takes a look at it. He gently pushes down around the area making you hiss in pain.

“Good news is I don’t think anything’s broken but I’m sure it will be a pretty bad sprain. Do you want us to take you to the hospital?” Namjoon tells you straightening back up. You shake your head. You really don’t want to deal with the hospital right now. “No. It’s late and I know how to treat a sprain. I can see my doctor in the morning for it.” “Alright. Well let’s get you a cab then.” Namjoon calls for a taxi to come.

“Can you put any weight on it?” JaeHee asks you. You try to take a step even with Sooji helping you but even setting your foot down hurts. “I don’t know if any of us can carry you.” Yoona says. Jungkook steps in then waiting for a way he could help. “I’m sure I could carry her.” He states gesturing to take Sooji’s place as your crutch.

You’re passed off and Jungkook carefully picks you up bridal style. “Oh, wow.” One of the girls audibly swoons. You’re just as surprised. He’s not even straining at all to hold you up. “Jungkook you don’t mind taking her home for us?” Namjoon asks. “Of course not.” The younger answers. You’re just glad no one is teasing or making jabs about him taking you home.

The taxi arrives not too much later. You both say your goodbyes and promises to update when you’ve arrived safely. Jungkook gently sets you in the seat and jogs around to the other side. He asks you if you’re comfortable enough right away. There’s not much you can do about the cramped back seat of car beside take off your high heel. Besides giving directions to the driver the ride is quiet. You have to heavily insist on paying for the ride against Jungkook’s insisting.

He carries you into your building. While he steadily holds you in the elevator you both pointedly avoid making any eye contact. You’re definitely not thinking about how strong and solid he feels. The last time you felt his toned chest was the awkwardly intimate moment with the vibrator. Both of you are pointedly trying not to think about that.

Jungkook has no problem getting the two of you through your door, kicking off his shoes and setting you down on your couch. He’s amazed at how spacious and neat your apartment is. It’s obviously an expensive place. “Wow. Your place is really nice.” He comments looking around. “Thanks. Can you put these over there for me?” You ask holding out your shoes.

He takes them over and puts them in the empty spot on your shoe rack and brings over your slippers. “This is embarrassing to ask but could you help me over to the bathroom?” “Sure!” He picks you right back up and carries you over to the bathroom. It’s a little difficult to do without hurting yourself but you manage to use the restroom. There’s no way you’re getting your stockings back on so they get kicked over to your laundry basket.

You open the door but Jungkook’s not there. “Jungkook?” You call out for him. He comes over in an instant and picks you right back up. He carries you over to the couch again and settles you among the cushions. “You should keep your foot elevated for a little while.” He helps you put a pillow under your legs. “I hope you don’t mind me going into your fridge.” He says pulling a bag of ice wrapped in a towel off your coffee table.

“No, thank you so much Jungkook. You’re doing so much.” The ice feels so nice on the already swollen joint. “I got you some water too if you want.” He says holding out the glass. You take it gratefully. “Wow what service. Mina might actually be lucky to have you.” You regret saying that when you see Jungkook’s stunned reaction. You look away from him and drink your water.

Jungkook asks you if he could use your bathroom. That gives you time to check your phone and settle in. Minwoo hasn’t said anything since his last text. It’s now around 10:40 and you figure he’ll likely be done around 11. You send him a text to let him know you got hurt. He’ll likely come home as soon as he reads it and come to take care of you.

Jungkook comes back and goes right down to the end of your couch by your feet. He lifts the ice bag and sets it on the coffee table. He gently presses around the swollen tissue. You pull your foot back in pain. “Sorry I just want to check again to be sure nothing’s torn or broken.” You let him take back your leg and examine the painful area. “I don’t think it’s anything serious but you should go to the doctor tomorrow.”

He moves his hands up higher to massage the upper part of your ankle into your calf. You stop flinching in pain and enjoy the good feeling. Jungkook takes his time rubbing the muscles. He carefully passes over your sprain and starts massaging your foot. You hum in enjoyment. It’s the worst possible moment for him to remember this is the same foot you got him off with. He tries to put his thoughts into just the massage but it’s difficult when you close your eyes and moan softly.

He takes one hand away from the massage to adjust himself in his pants while you have your eyes closed. The movement makes you open your eyes and you catch him. He stops when you do, so embarrassed at being caught. “You really must have a foot fetish.” You tease. Jungkook goes red to the ears. “No! Of course I don’t. That’s so gross.” He whines. You laugh. “What’s got you all excited then? Still can’t massage a girl without getting hard? Thought you’d be a little better about that by now.”

Jungkook stops touching you all together and stands up. “Sorry. I forgot we established it as a noona kink and maybe some masochism. But there’s no way you actually enjoyed that or want to go through the humiliation again.” You ask seriously. Jungkook steps closer and looks you right in the eyes. “It’s nothing like that at all okay? Isn’t this how any normal man reacts to being alone with a woman he’s attracted to? You want me to act like a stone with you moaning like that? After the things we’ve done before?”

You’re surprised by his outburst. He’s never talked back like this before. The intensity burning in his gaze is unfairly hot. For once he doesn’t look like such an innocent sweet boy. He looks like a man and that’s just not right. He’s not allowed to look that way.

“I’m sorry for offending you Jungkook-ie. I was only teasing. No need to get all worked up.” You break the eye contact and sip your water. Jungkook clicks his tongue in annoyance. He knows you’re doing this to get a rise out of him. You’ve always got the upper hand on him. The way you called him Jungkook-ie in that mocking tone should annoy him the most but of course he loves it.

“Whatever. I just wish you wouldn’t treat me like some little kid. I’m a normal adult. Sorry I’m not up to your standards.” Jungkook huffs. “Cumming in your pants like a teenager sure doesn’t help your case much.” You know you’re plucking at sensitive strings but you can’t help yourself.

Jungkook can't believe you brought that up. Being a little tipsy in the comfort of your home has changed you. You're smiling and teasing him so much. Jungkook laughs and shakes his head. “I've had a lot of practice since then, Noona.” He purposely stresses the title. “I've heard plenty about your practice. Sounds like you had a lot of self practice before you got the real thing.”

Jungkook can feel his ears warming but manages to keep his eye contact. “Yes. I put your advice to good use. I told you I'm a fast learner.”

“Well practice makes perfect. Why don't you be a good boy and show me what you practiced.” You smile and set down your glass. Jungkook's brain short circuits. He must have imagined you saying that.

“Show- show you how I built my stamina?” He asks to be sure that's what you really want. “Yes. I want to see for myself how much you've improved. The teacher should grade the student.”

Jungkook stands there like a statue. What exactly do you want him to do? Should he drop his pants and start jacking off like that? Do you want to be touched at all?

You giggle watching the boy panic. “Poor Jungkook-ie. You need me to give you all the directions again? Why don't you start by getting into position for me? Come here and kneel on the rug by me.” You point at the spot just by your elbow.

Goodness knows why but, Jungkook obeys quickly. He knows he's going to regret this later. You reach your hand out and place it gently on his chest. All the alarm bells going off in his brain quiet once you're touching him. You run the back of your fingers up the center of his chest and stop at the top button. The button pops open with a practiced flick of your fingers.

"Tell me. Do you watch porn when you practice?" You ask. "No!" Jungkook whines. You smirk. "Then what do you think about?" His cheeks flush a little and he looks down to your hand smoothing down further. The second button goes just as easily. "I bet you thought about me didn't you? It's written all over your face. You could have easily thought of your girlfriends naked body but, you thought of me fully clothed getting you off in your pants." Jungkook blushes up to his ears.

"Be a dear and hand me that book will you?" The question is so jarring. Jungkook looks up and has to process what you asked. You're pointing to an old-looking leather bound book on the coffee table. "That one there."

Jungkook turns and hands it to you. He notices that something feels off about it. It doesn't feel solid and heavy like a book that thick should. You set it in your lap and look back to him. "Now be a good boy and take your bottoms off for me."

Jungkook feels a second round of whiplash. He doesn't move, only opens his mouth to ask about the book. "What's wrong? Got stage fright?" You tease. "No, just wh-" "Then do as your told." You interrupt and look at him pointedly.

The boy swallows and starts to undo his belt. He gets everything undone and realises there's no way he can get them off in this position. "Am I allowed to stand, your highness?" He quips. You narrow your eyes. "Don't you talk to me that way. You know how to address me properly."

If you didn't look so serious he would think you were teasing. He's ashamed to say he's a little frightened you'll tell him to leave. He's so weak for you. "Sorry Noona. May I stand?" Your face stays cold and serious. "No. For punishment you can just pull them down as far as they go and be uncomfortable."

He quickly follows your instructions. Pushes his pants and boxers down to his knees. It's just enough for his cock to be freed. Seeing it bare puts your earlier suspicions to rest. He's very well endowed. "Go ahead and show me your improvement."

The start is awkward for Jungkook. Sure he's kind of hard but how's he supposed to get in the mood with you just sitting there staring at him? He starts by running a shaking hand over his whole length then going into some light strokes. Once he starts a bit of a rhythm you reach for the book. With a pull on the sewn in bookmark the cover pops up a little. You open the lid and Jungkook now understands that it's a hollow book for storing things.

His curiosity gets the best of him and his hand has stopped. You give him a pointed look. "Nevermind what I'm doing. You just keep going." You stare at him until he gets back into his slow steady rhythm. There’s no pleasure in his touch now. Not when you’re watching him so intently and he’s so curious about what’s in the book.

Once you’re pleased enough with his actions you focus back on the book. “Since you thought about me while you practice, why don’t I give you something similar to look at.” Jungkook furrows his brow in confusion until you open the book. You pull out a massage wand just big enough to fit diagonally in the box. Beside it are a small stack of condoms and some lube.

The boys eyes go wide and his hand stops again. You tisk at this. “You’re really bad at listening today aren’t you?” Jungkook swallows hard but is still entranced by the toy in your hand. “I think you need a little punishment. Here put this on so you don’t make a mess.” With your other hand you toss a condom at his chest.

Jungkook tries to keep his hands from shaking as he fiddles with the little foil and rolls the rubber on. “Now I expect you to keep stroking yourself no matter what, until I tell you to stop or I’ll really have to punish you.”

The extra glide from the lubed surface of the condom finally makes this start to feel good for Jungkook. His brain goes on a tangent of how this could be a punishment. Where would you have let him finish before this? That train of thought is wiped as soon as the buzz from your toy starts up. It startles him a bit. His gaze snaps back to you.

At first you’re just holding the toy up, judging Jungkook’s initial reaction. His hand doesn’t stop this time so you get yourself comfortable. You bring the wand up to your neck and shoulders, using it for it’s more innocent purpose. You take your time giving your tense muscles a little massage.

Jungkook’s brain overthinks this too. Maybe you really do just use this as a body massager. Maybe his dirty mind automatically assumed it was for something else. No. Given the circumstances he’s sure it must be for other pleasures as well. You’re just teasing him as well. “I know how excited you get from massaging me. Does watching me do it give the same effect?” You tease. Yeah he’s sure you’re messing with him.

“I’d rather be giving it to you.” He quips. You smirk, pleased he can still play along. “Too bad you don’t deserve to. Your hands are quite talented.” From the corner of your eye you notice the stutter in Jungkook’s stroke. “I’ll just have to please myself until you learn some control.”

Without breaking eye contact you move the massager down to your breasts. You can barely feel it through your shirt and bra but it still feels nice. Jungkook’s eyes glance at your chest and come right back to your face. You smile. “You can look. That’s what I’m doing it for. I’m trying to make your practice as accurate as possible.” He looks back and forth between your breasts and your face before settling on the toy. He wishes he could see your breasts bare and jiggling from the vibrations. His cock twitches just from the thought.

You would love to take off your bra and get the full effect but that would be too much of a treat for the boy who doesn’t deserve it. Instead you turn the wand up one setting and take your time pressing it into any sore spots. You spend extra time on your nipples, feeling them peak into your bra. Jungkook won’t be able to see it through your clothes but, he does a fine job imagining it.

Once your breasts are nicely stimulated it’s time to move on. Jungkook watches intently as you move it down. You stop and rub it over the inside of your thighs. Goosebumps rise from how it tickles you. It takes a bit of readjusting but you keep moving down to massage your sore ankle. Jungkook doesn’t realize he huffs out a breath until you give him a questioning look.

After making sure that he’s still moving his hand you smirk and get back to your massage. The massager bumps a little too strong into the painful area. You wince and move it away quickly. “Careful, Noona.” Jungkook says softly, still not stopping his strokes. He’s looking much less fazed. That’s your cue to move on.

You bring the toy back up between your thighs and right to your center. There’s not much feeling through your tight skirt and underwear. You can just barely get it over the top of your slit. That’s just not going to do. You press your hardest for a minute or so, more to tease Jungkook. You give him a quick glance to make sure he’s watching you. His eyes are glued to the toy.

He gives the smallest whine when you click off the massager and set it down beside you. “Don’t you worry baby.” You chuckle. He’d be more upset at your teasing if he weren’t so drawn in by your fingertips pulling up the hem of your skirt. You stop just before the end of your butt and bring your hands under the fabric. With a little wiggling you adjust your panties to be more flush with your clit.

It’s not what Jungkook was hoping for, but once you turn the toy back on and tuck it underneath your skirt, he drops his disappointment. You hum at finally getting the vibrations right where you want them. One hand holds the toy handle and the other keeps your skirt in place.

You let your head fall back on the pillow behind you and close your eyes. It lets you concentrate on the feelings and sounds. You keep your ears perked to Jungkook’s sounds. His slightly uneven breathing, the slick slide of his hand over the rubber in an even rhythm, and the slight hum of your toy. They make it easy to lose yourself in the moment.

Jungkook doesn’t have to know that you’re imagining him using a vibe on himself. You’ll definitely have to add that when he gets better stamina. Well that is if you continue to do this, but you won��t. You can only imagine what you’d do to him if this became a regular thing but it won’t, it can’t. The wrongness of these encounters turns you on much more than it should. It’s dangerous how easily this man breaks your resolve.

Your clit throbs and without thinking you let out a small moan. Jungkook sucks in a breath and moans with you. Ready to scold him, you open your eyes to look at him. You’re caught off guard but how hot he looks. He’s flicking his wrist in earnest, the veins in his forearm standing out against his skin. Even his biceps are stretching the rolled up sleeves of his button down. What really throws you off is his intense stare. Knowing that he’s watching your face makes your cheeks redden. It’s difficult but you manage to keep eye contact with him.

“Are you close?” You try to keep your voice strong. “I could be. What about you?” Jungkook answers nearly as straight. You click your tongue at his attitude. “I could be.” You throw right back at him. “Noona, let me fuck you. It would be so much better for both of us.” Jungkook offers all too easily. You hate the shiver you get. It’s an incredibly tempting offer but that’s a line you do not want to cross with him. “I don’t think you deserve to touch me. Besides that’s not what this training is about.” You reply. “Isn’t it though? I thought the final point was that I could please a girl before finishing myself?” He argues. You hate that he makes a good point. “Such a brat. You definitely don’t deserve it. Just for that I want you to go faster. I think you’ve been holding back a little too much.” You command.

Jungkook wants to fight back but he knows he can’t. You’ll send him home still hard without feeling a bit of remorse. He obeys and moves his hand faster. A groan slips past his lips when you follow along and click the massager up one level. You move it down over your entrance a bit feeling how wet you’ve gotten. It brings up how empty you feel. It would be perfect if you had another toy to fill you up. Too bad you’ll have to do for now with bringing the vibe back to your clit. The increased speed brings you close much faster. You can tell it’s got the same effect on Jungkook. His breathing is heavy and stuttering. Every so often his strokes lose rhythm and he’s fighting not to moan or stop. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and furrows his brow.

“Don’t bite your lip. I want to hear you.” You tell him. He releases his lip with a soft moan. He’s afraid he’ll be crossing a line but this may be a chance to push you over the edge. “Fuck, Noona. I’m so close. You look so hot. I bet you’re so wet right now. Wish I could feel you.” Jungkook moans. His plan works. His words push you right before your peak. You hold long enough to let him off. “You bad boy. I’m close. Go ahead and finish with me.” You pant out and let yourself go. That familiar wave of warmth washes over you, enhanced greatly by the long moans Jungkook lets out as he spills into the condom.

The both of you take your time to come down from your highs. Out of spite and embarrassment you turn your arm to push the massager right to the sensitive tip of Jungkook’s cock. He shouts and tries to roll his hips away. “Sit still.” You scold. It’s difficult but he holds his cock up to the toy. He’s never felt anything like it. In no time he feels a second wave of cum spurting out in the longest orgasm he’s ever had. You’d really planned to push him through overstimulation to a second orgasm but the sound of your phone ringing surprises you both.

Instantly you click off the toy and grab the device. You look at the screen briefly before answering. “Hello?” “Y/N dear did I wake you?” Minwoo’s voice comes over the line. “No I’m still awake.” You answer and look at Jungkook. He’s still panting but sits pretty in position. “Good. Are you okay? Do you need my help? I’m almost home.” “Yes. I’d like some help getting ready for bed if you don’t mind.” Jungkook’s eyes widen in disbelief. There’s no way you just told Minwoo to come over. He starts to shift his weight to stand but you throw him a stern look and point for him to stay still. He must be crazy to obey. “Sure darling. I’ll be there in about 10 minutes.” Minwoo replies. “Sounds good. See you soon.” With that you both hang up.

“Sorry but it’s time to say goodnight. Go ahead and get yourself cleaned up.” You tell Jungkook. He sits there for a moment just in shock still of how you can break this off so easily. If he weren’t terrified of his boss finding him here like this he might have stayed and given you a piece of his mind. Or at least that’s what he tells himself. He feels pathetic, slowly getting to his feet, pulling off the filled condom, and wrapping it in a few tissues from the coffee table. He quickly gets himself cleaned up and redressed.

“You did pretty good. I can tell you’ve practiced. Keep it up.” Your praise is annoyingly good to hear. He doesn’t bother to acknowledge it. He only double checks his pockets for his phone and wallet. “See you Monday, Secretary. I hope you heal quickly.” He bows coldly and lets himself out. You think to yourself that this is exactly why you can keep playing with the boy. He’s smart enough to know his place. So many others would have tried to stay and fight about this or purposely waited for Minwoo to make an argument.

Not long after your doorbell rings and Minwoo is putting in the code to open your door. He kicks off his shoes and comes right over to you. “Hello pretty. Doing okay? What happened?” He shuffles the ice pack that you had tossed back on. “I’ll be fine. Just some stupid drunk pushed me off the side walk and made me twist my ankle.” Minwoo gently brushes over the still swollen skin.

“How did you get home?” “Jeon Jungkook carried me here.” Minwoo looks at you with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Oh he did? That was very kind of him. I really owe him a dinner now.” You hum. “I suppose so. The others offered him up since he’s the only one who could carry me so far.”

“Still it was such a gentlemanly thing for him to do. I’ll have to thank him for taking care of the most important person in the company.” You smile and nod in response. Minwoo could very well be hinting at taking care of you in another way. “He was very attentive until I sent him home.”

“Well let’s get you up to the bedroom first. How does that sound?” “That would be nice.” Minwoo has you hold the ice pack. He comes to the side and puts his arms under you. In one smooth lift he picks you up to his chest and you wrap your arms around his neck. You feel much more at home in this pair of strong arms. The two of you share a smile while he carries you to the bedroom.

With steady careful moves he sets you on the edge of the bed. “Let’s get these work clothes off you first. You start on your blouse and I’ll help you with your skirt.” He reaches his hands around you to unzip it and you try your best to lift your hips for him to pull it off. You pull off your blouse and reach around to unhook your bra. Minwoo starts to slowly pull your panties down your hips but stops when he notices how soaked they are in the center. The wet fabric sticks completely to your core and he pushes a finger right at your entrance. You jump in surprise.

“My, my. What’s got you so wet like this darling?” He asks running his finger up and down. “I’m sorry. I was bad and played with myself while I was waiting for you.” You answer coyly. Minwoo usually has no problem with you pleasuring yourself unless he’s specifically told you not to. He looks you right in the eye as though trying to read if there’s more to it. “You must’ve been needy if you couldn’t wait for me.” “To be fair it started as a regular massage for my ankle.” That makes Minwoo laugh.

“Can’t help yourself can you? Naughty girl. Do you think you should get a punishment?” He asks. Your eyes widen a little. There’s that hidden meaning hanging in the air again, like he knows you’ve been bad. You nod slowly. “Well since you’ve already had your fun, how about if you let me get off and you don’t. I think that sounds fair don’t you?” You pout but still nod. “Yes, sir. I think that’s fair.”

Minwoo starts unbuttoning his own shirt quickly and undoing his belt. “Be a good girl and take those off for me.” He nods toward the panties still clinging to you. By the time you’ve carefully got them off he’s already stripped bare. He comes close and pulls your hips right to the edge of the bed.

With a gentle touch he lifts both your legs. “You need to keep your foot elevated. Can you hold your legs for me?” You follow his direction, tucking your hands behind your knees to hold them. His hands run back down the inside of your thighs right to their apex then slip off. In one swift motion he brings his right hand back up to smack over your clit. You jolt in surprise.

He watches just to be sure you stay in position before swatting his hand at you again. He gives a few more in quick succession a bit harder than the others. “Can you hear how wet you still are?” He asks rubbing his fingers to soothe the sting of the smacks then right down the middle. “Yes, sir.” You can clearly hear the wet sounds of his fingers.

“You’re only wet like this for me, right?” He asks and immediately pushes two fingers into your entrance. You moan out a yes. “That’s right it is.” Yes is what he wants to hear, but he knows it’s not the truth. You know he knows. You’re not sure how, but he does. So when he pulls his fingers out and gives your clit four more smacks you can’t complain. You both know you deserve it.

His touch disappears altogether but is soon replaced. With it gripped in his hand, he rubs the end of his cock over your slick cunt. “Be a good girl now and let me take what’s mine. Don’t you dare cum.” He commands lowly, teasing at your entrance. He waits for your reply of ‘yes, sir’ before pushing in.

He doesn’t give you time to enjoy the first feeling but does start slow. He takes his time stroking in and out slowly, fully enjoying your heat wrapped around him. You spread your legs a little wider to make room for him to lean forward. He breaths over one of your perked nipples but never actually touches. Only teases the touches your wish you could get.

Gradually he picks up the pace. He angles the thrust to hit just where it’s best for you every few times on purpose. Just enough to get you riled up. His lips ghost higher to just below your ear. “You’re lucky I’m too tired tonight for toys. I feel like I ought to leave you strapped to your vibrator for a while. Not sure why I get the feeling you deserve it.” He growls. You’re not sure what to say. He continues on in your silence.

“Maybe I’m just paranoid because you were alone again with that young intern? He’s such a nice young man. It’s a shame he’s taken such a liking to you.” You feel like he really means that. Jungkook is a good worker after all. “Do you wish this were him fucking you to bed? Hm?” “No. Of course not. Only you can touch me. I sent him away.” You pant.

Minwoo has it in mind to ask if you sent him away before or after you had your fun with him but he doesn’t. You could have very easily told him not to come tonight and besides your panties being wet you seemed untouched. “Yes you did. Good girl.” He kisses your neck softly then stands back up straight.

He replaces his hands for your on your legs. “You can touch yourself if you want as a reward, but you still can’t cum.” He offers. It’s a double edged sword. You know he actually means for you to touch yourself in some way to make this more difficult. As a middle ground you decide to play with your breasts.

Minwoo smirks and starts really pounding into in earnest. He’s hitting your spot more and more often and it’s driving you crazy. You try to get the most and the least pleasure out of playing with your nipples. It feels like forever before Minwoo’s thrusts start to falter. All of a sudden he pulls out completely and jacks himself off to completion all over your stomach. Your pussy throbs from the loss. To make it worse, Minwoo leaves the last bit of cum on the tip and rubs it into your clit.

He watches you squirm and moan. He’s got you right on the edge and pushing. Just when you think you might not hold it, he pulls away. It takes a ton of will power not to close your legs and rub them together. Your walls are fluttering in anticipation and tears are coming to your eyes in frustration. By the time you finally start to settle, Minwoo comes to wipe the cooling cum off of your stomach.

“You did good.” He kisses your forehead. It’s a poor consolation but you’re a good girl. You don’t whine or pout. You’re getting just what you deserve. “Let’s get you washed up for bed. Think you can handle that?” Minwoo asks getting ready to pick you up from the bed. “Yeah, especially if you wash me.” You flutter your lashes at him and he smiles. “Sure. I can do that.”

-E.최

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