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midnightcreator12 · 9 months

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The Portal Home is Built with Roadblocks - Chapter 21

Trying to get the rest of this arc done because I have ~plans~

AO3 Link

Don woke up to a very firm slap to his shell…followed by three more.

He grumbled, rolling over so he could bat away the offending brother, “Mikey-”

“April and Casey sent pictures!” Mikey steamrolled over Don’s protests, shoving his cell into Don’s beak.

Don grumbled and blinked until the blurry screen turned into a picture. One of a tiny, red faced baby, bundled in a pink blanket and hat being held by an exhausted looking April.

Don blinked a few more times before the event before going to get their formally kidnapped family member resurfaced in his memory, “Oh, it’s a girl.”

“Shell yeah, it’s a girl!” Mikey beamed. “You would have known that an hour ago if you didn’t leave your phone in the lab again.”

Don hummed.

“Just like you would have known that the other us’s went to spend the night in Chula’s ship.”

…well, now he was awake.

Don sat up, snatching his cell from Mikey and tapping through his messages. Sure enough, there was an old message from Donnie. When the kid had gotten his number, Don had no idea but he also wasn’t surprised. There were three messages sent within minutes of each other, reading out ‘we went to chulas ship, leon didnt want her to be lonely’, ‘we all went and will return in the morning’ ‘chula will continue to assist in our current project’

Don frowned at the last one, “Why wouldn’t Chula keep working on the portal? She’s the only one who can read those datapads.”

“What you should be asking,” Mikey said, still very much in Don’s space. “Is why she was planning to go to her ship for the night.”

“There could be a number of reasons,” Don yawned, shoving Mikey away and climbing out of bed.

Mikey grumbled, rubbing his beak, “Or maybe she picked up on the weird vibe you’ve all had since you picked her, Leo and Donnie up?”

Don frowned as he started pulling on his gear, “We don’t have a weird vibe.”

“Uh, yeah you do. Leo avoided her the second you all got back and Raph was watching her like a hawk and you are being very tight-lipped about the whole ordeal. I dunno what got under all your shells but if I noticed, she definitely noticed.”

Don winced.

He may not agree fully with Chula’s…methods but he’d thought he’d been doing a decent job of not letting that influence how he interacted with her. Yes, she had gone pretty far, from Leo’s descriptions but…well, not much they could do about it now.

And he couldn’t say with confidence that he’d do much different if he’d been there in her place.

And like he’d said, she was the only one who could translate the datapads, freezing her out would be a very, very bad idea.

Shaking his head, Don started walking towards the kitchen, “It’s still very possible she just wanted to check on her ship and Leon wanted to tag along and the rest followed.”

“Hmmm, if you say so~,” Mikey sing-songed. “But all I’m saying is that I’m an excellent judge of character and Chula Verd? Yeah, she’s one of the good ones. It’s a shame we can’t convince her to stick around.”

“Oh?” Don hummed as he started the coffee pot. “You want her to stay here?”

“Well, maybe not ‘here’ here but it’d be cool if she was around. But I’m betting Leon’s already got a cushy retirement planned for her in his dimension.”

And that conjured up an image in Don’s head, one with Chula sitting on a beach in a floppy hat and holding a cocktail. It made him huff a laugh under his breath, “I don’t think she’s old enough to consider retiring Mike.”

“Dude, she’s fought in at least two wars. Like, actual, full on wars. I think that justifies an early retirement.”

“And she won’t just go back to her dimension for it?”

“Dude, she adores Leon. He’s, like, basically her kid even if he calls her Space Aunt.”

Don hummed again as he sipped at his coffee, “Maybe-”

“Hey!” Raph stormed into the kitchen. “Where’d the neon kid wonders go?”

“Chula’s ship,” both Mikey and Don answered at the same time.

“...why the hell are they at her ship?”

“Because you and Leo and Don are being weird,” Mikey replied as he grabbed a box of cereal and started towards the TV. “Might wanna stop that before Leon decides to enact revenge!”

Raph huffed, “Yeah, I’m real scared of that lil’ beanpole.”

“You probably should be,” Don said. “He is a Leo.”

“...that ain’t the complement you think it is.”

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

After breakfast and training, with cracks from Lou adding to Splinter's teachings, Don started getting the lab set up for another day of translating and observation.

He’d pretty much stopped all progress when Leo and Donnie disappeared and most of his lab was in mild disarray. The pads and translated notes had all been dumped into a box and the Key had been pushed behind a monitor.

Don pulled it out, hefting the totem in his hands.

Donnie had been very cagey with his research about the Key, only mentioning bits and pieces. Through those bits and pieces, Don knew that Donnie had somehow ‘reprogramed’ the Key to track Leo, which accidentally resulted in having it open a portal to a completely different dimension.

Don frowned thoughtfully. Don had mentioned he’d used Leon’s DNA to find him but…it couldn’t be that simple. Maybe it was tracing Leon’s ninpo? Or was it something else? There had to be something that set Leon apart enough for the Key to open the portal in this dimension instead of some random reality. And there was the fact the Key seemed to be more of a compass and battery combination, rather than something that could generate a gateway independently.

Quite the opposite of the Tortuga, if he thought about it. The foundation was clearly there but there didn’t seem to be a way to ‘steer’ the portals, at least in the notes they’d translated so far. The idea was basically…just rip a big hole in between realities. Crude but it had technically worked. But surely there had to be a way to control the hyperdrive’s portals, otherwise what would be the point? Yes, you could hop to another reality but then you’d be stuck jumping from one to the next until you randomly found your original one again.

So if they were going to send everyone back where they belonged, they were either going to have to recreate what Donnie did with the Key….somehow. Or find a way to better control Chula’s hyperdrive portals.

And build something that could generate a portal, if they ended up using the Key.

…or maybe they didn’t have to-

“We have returned!”

Don jumped and spun around to see…Donnie, sitting on Chula’s shoulders as he tapped away at his wrist tablet.

Don blinked, eyes slowly drifting from Donnie down to Chula…who was wearing only her flight suit and vembraces? Her belt was missing its holsters and, by extension, her guns. Even her staff seemed to be missing.

That was…certainly odd.

Donnie made a sound that pulled Don’s attention back up, “If you are done staring, I believe we are a few days behind, unless you were working without us, which I doubt.”

“Kinda hard to focus when my brother disappeared,” Don replied.

“Naturally,” Donnie agreed before twisting and rolling off Chula’s shoulders, “I also have several theories on how we can create not only a sustainable way to go between realities but one that is transportable as well…though perhaps not travel size, there isn’t a viable power source small enough to be travel size.”

“Oh, actually, I was just thinking about that,” Don gestured to the Key in his hand. “If we can fine tune whatever you did to track Leon, we could probably have it find any reality we want.”

Donnie nodded, scooping the Key out of Don’s hand, “I had the same thought. I have been running a few simulations and, theoretically, we could use the Key as a compass and hook it to Chula’s ship to act as the generator and gateway.”

“And since that kinda engineerin’ is far, far over my paygrade,” Chula shuffled around them, dropping into a chair and dragging the box of datapad closer. “I’m going to translate while you two run more sims and get the plans started.”

Don frowned, “You…don’t mind us tampering with your ship?”

“Are you planning to gut the entire thing?”

“Scoff!” Donnie crossed his arms indignantly. “That would be counterproductive to this entire experiment. We really only need to work on anything connected to the hyperdrive and engine. If anything, we’d have to add something on the ship to create the portals.”

“...didn’t the ship already make one without any additions?” Don asked.

“I have a theory on that!” Donnie tapped his tablet, projecting a purple hologram that looked like a very tiny, simplified version of the Tortuga. “Based on what Chula told me about the hyperlanes in her reality, they are essentially space freeways where a ship can safely travel through at incredibly high speeds without being in danger of running into anything.” As he spoke, a tube appeared for the tiny ship to fly through. “This is not an efficient way to travel through dimensions because, as what happened with Chula, you end up in random places by the time you stop.”

Don nodded in agreement, “The current setup on the Tortuga is more like a subway route and you want to make it more like a doorway.”

“Exactly!” Donnie changed his hologram again, turning the tube into a door that opened and closed to let the ship through. “Travel will be much more predictable that way and save energy.” He turned to Chula, grin growing even wider. “You will be the proud owner of the first sustainable dimensional transport!”

Chula snorted, pointing to Don, “Didn’t he make a portal gun at one point?”

“Firstly, it exploded after a few uses. Secondly, and I still question how that even worked, the base was a flashlight.”

“Yeah, I can’t help you there,” Don sighed. “Technically, the other me who was here at the time made it. I think their reality works off of some kind of cartoon logic and they brought some of that insanity with them to this dimension.”

“Interesting,” Donnie hummed. “...we should test that, how much of our reality's laws of physics apply even in another reality.”

“Except our three realities seem to have pretty similar rules,” Chula said. “You’d have to get two drastically different versions for anything viable.”

“A problem that will be remedied very soon!” Donnie exclaimed. “So enough of this chit-chat! We have genius to create!”

Don chuckled, happy to see Donnie was finally out of his funk.

Work would hopefully progress much more smoothly now.

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

It turned out, even with all the tools they had at their disposal, outfitting the Tortuga with a Dimensional Gateway Generator was much easier said than done.

And the first issue was with the main item of their plan.

“How. Do. These. Rock. Work?!” Donnie groaned, head thumping down against the side of the hyperdrive with each word.

Don could admit he was a little stumped as well.

He’d thought the kyber crystals were simply a power source, something to give the hyperdrive a little extra boost of energy needed.

But when Chula handed them a small book’s worth of translated information about the little rocks, that line of thought was very quickly thrown out the window. Because it turned out that they were much, much more than a power source.

Really, even with all the notes, it still didn’t fully explain what the crystals did.

They were deeply connected to something called “The Force’ which Chula explained was some kind of mystic energy from her reality that some people could tap into. What the Force could do was another large unknown but traveling through time and space was on the list of ‘things the Force can probably do’. The crystals concentrated the energy from the Force, acting like an amplifier for it rather than a direct source.

There were also pages about an artifact called the Darkstaff, the main inspiration for Yaotl building this whole thing. It had been made by another faction of Force users called The Sith and the notes about it were…very extensive, almost obsessive if he was honest. And the descriptions of what the staff could do sent a shiver up Donnie’s shell. He was very, very happy that this Yaotl guy hadn’t decided to try finding the staff itself.

But it all ended up here, sitting on the engine room floor of the Tortuga, trying to figure out how to get the hyperdrive to pull power from the Key.

Because the first six attempts to hook the two together had gotten Donnie shocked, Don’s hands lightly singed and Chula on standby with a tarp to smother fires.

“This is certainly…not as simple as I had hoped it would be,” Don agreed.

“Maybe…,” Chula paused. “We entertain the…paragraph we all wrote off as religious interference?”

“They’re rocks!” Donnie hissed. “They can’t be ‘semi-sentient’. And even if they were, none of us have this ‘Force sensitivity’ to communicate with them.”

“But what if we don’t need to be Force sensitive?”

Don frowned, “I don’t think I’m following.”

“Look, the problem we seem to be running into is incompatibility,” Chula gestured to the very large pile of ruined wires. “My best guess as to why is that the kyber isn’t pulling energy from the Key so it’s all building up in the wrong spots with nowhere to go.”

“Yes, we know that!” Donnie groaned. “Are you trying to say the rocks are rejecting the Key?”

“Essentially,” Chula replied.

Don tapped his chin in thought, “It would make sense. From what I can see, kyber only seems to react to this ‘Force’.”

“But we don’t have that here,” Donnie grumbled. “So what are we going to do?”

“Didn’t you say that things from different realities could retain some of the laws of that reality?” Chula said.

“It’s a theory,” Don answered.

“Well, kyber has Force energy in it and Donnie already reprogramed the Key once. Maybe we could do it again but have the energy signature mimic Force energy.”

Donnie frowned, head tilting and eyes narrowing in thought, “...technically changing the energy in the Key was an accident…but if we can somehow recreate that…we’d have to make a different system for tracking dimensions…”

“But it could work,” Don finished. “It’s just going to add to our time working on this.”

“It’s better than no progress at all,” Chula said. “Okay, let’s unhook all this and head back, I’m sure the Mikey’s have dinner going by now.”

“I hope it’s ramen,” Donnie sighed. “I could really, really, go for some of Michel’s ramen.”

“Is it really that good?” Don asked. “I mean, our Mikey puts eggs in his sometimes but-”

“Not instant ramen,” Donnie hissed in offense. “My little brother makes actual ramen.”

Chula snorted, “Okay tough guy, we all know Michel is a very skilled chef.”

“And none of you will forget it!”

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

“Don.”

“Leo,” Don replied as he walked past Leo to get some precious, wonderful coffee.

“How is the portal coming along?” Leo asked.

Don fought down the urge to sigh. Because when Mikey pointed out that he, Raph and Leo were being weird around Chula, Don had started watching.

He himself was more comfortable around Chula now, mostly because of the three weeks of working almost on top of each other. Raph was still wary but he’d gotten less and less curt when talking to her.

But Leo seemed determined to keep any and all interactions between himself and Chula to a minimum. And when they did talk, Leo was always overly professional and stiff when he spoke.

And it didn’t take a genius to know that that clear distrust was the reason Chula only wore the vembraces of her armor and didn’t bring most of her weapons whenever she was in the Lair.

‘How is the portal doing’ was Leo code for ‘how long until Chula is gone’.

And frankly? Don thought he was being a little too stubborn.

“You should really know by now that everything with Falco was just an anomaly with her.”

He glanced over his shoulder, smirking when he saw Leo had paused mid-sip of tea, “...I am aware of that.”

“So why is she still getting the cold shoulder from you?”

Leo went quiet, brow furrowing as he stared into his tea. Don waited, steaming coffee in hand as Leo formulated his answer.

“...you weren’t there Donnie.”

“So explain why to me,” Don settled at the table. “Look, normally I wouldn’t say anything but this portal isn’t going to be a quick project this time. We don’t have Donatello’s cartoon logic science this time and we're working with two magic systems that none of us fully understand.”

“Isn’t one of those magic systems from Chula’s dimension?”

Don shot Leo a flat look, “I think we can safely say that she’s not really the type of person that makes a habit of studying magic.”

Leo hummed in agreement.

“Point is, we’re largely working off the notes of a mad-man and whatever common knowledge Chula does know. Not to mention the Krang Key that, even with all the data Donnie has, is another largely unknown, magical factor. This is going to take a while to figure everything out and the last thing any of us need is Leon getting fed up and locking you two in a closet or something.”

“What makes you think Chula won’t snap first?”

Don huffed, “Because you, brother dear, are an alternate version of the turtle who she basically adopted for a year. That and I’m pretty sure we fall under ‘kids’ in her eyes and are therefore off limits.”

“Lucky us,” Leo hummed.

“Leo, come on, work with me. What’s really under your shell?”

Leo paused again. Before sighed and leaning back, “I saw only a fraction of what she did. She didn’t go for quick kills Don, it almost seemed like she wanted them to suffer as they died…I heard them screaming…she beat a woman to death…she left Falco to bleed out…I left him to bleed out…”

Oh.

“Leo,” Don reached over to press his hand over his brother’s.

Leo squeezed his hand back, “I’ve been…having bad dreams about it.”

“Yeah, that’s probably not helping.”

“Her not…wearing the armor helps a little,” Leo admitted. “But…god, Donnie, she didn’t even care.”

Don frowned, fingers tapping at Leo’s knuckles, “...Mikey…talks with them a lot and Leon’s...mentioned things.”

Leo looked up, frowning.

“I think…she’s been in the thick of wars. Like, actual wars, not the alien invasions we usually resolve in a day or two. Death and killing is not something she’s unfamiliar with.”

Leo’s frown only deepened, “Her spirit is dark and weighted down-”

“...I assume sensei told you that one.”

Leo nodded.

“Look, I’m not saying you have to be her best friend. But maybe if you get to know her…it might help with the dreams?”

Leo huffed, “Maybe…”

“...you know, her and Leon train every day,” Don stood, topping off his coffee. “It’s not consistent. I think when Leon’s getting antsy he just asks her for a spar, but maybe she’d like to go a few rounds with you too.”

Leo shrugged, “I’ll think it over.”

Don smiled, patting Leo’s shoulder as he walked past him, “And you can come to any of us when you need it.”

“...thanks Donnie.”

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

“Test number…twenty-two?” Donnie looked between Chula and Don.

“Twenty-four,” Chula corrected. “You passed out for two of them.”

Donnie stuck out his tongue, “Because someone took my thermos.”

“You cannot drink over nine cups of caf in less than twelve hours, it’ll kill your heart.”

“Scoff! It would not!”

“Can we focus?” Don interrupted. “Please?”

Chula nodded and held up the tarp she’d brought, “Hit it boys.”

Donnie grinned, almost manic as he attached the connectors on the Key mount to the hyperdrive. When they were secured, Don turned off the dampeners, letting power flow through the wires into the hyperdrive.

All three watched in tense silence for a few seconds.

The kyber glowed, humming slightly as power flooded into the surrounding components.

They waited, holding their breath, watching for a spark.

They all sighed in relief when none came.

“Okay, we got the Key and the Hyperdrive to play nice,” Don said. “Now we have to add an external mechanism to create the gateway, develop a system to help pinpoint and organize the dimensions we jump to….we should also trying flying her before testing the gateway to make sure nothing interferes with normal engine function-”

“This is amazing!” Donnie cheered, leaping up to slap a hand against Chula’s arm. “All my theories and simulations are coming to fruition! We are about to make scientific history with this! Trans-dimensional travel! Oh, what a day to be alive!”

Chula laughed, loud and hearty as she ruffled Donnie’s mask tails, “Yes, yes, you two are super genius, well done edeemir’ika."

Don smiled. The checklist could wait for a bit, for now he was perfectly happy to bask in Donnie’s excitement.

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

Edeemir'ika - Little Biter

(ooooh my god, the amount of bs science I made up for this chapter. I love world building but I also hate it....its a very complicated relationship)

#tmnt #tmnt 2003 #rottmnt #lone hunter and turtle #fanfic #tmnt au

2 notes · View notes

xiuminscheeks · 5 months

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WOOO new ep yet again :D and im on time too! Last ask i sent was a couple days after the ep aired, cos it took me a while to get round to watching it 😅 anyway ok so:

-How did mr lee get away w that. How did mr jin just accept him pulling a sword on him like WHAT sldjksk. in what world would he not be terrified or at least concerned. Or call for help or something? He just walks off????

Then when he does bring it up its like ahhh he just seemed kinda off yknow? LIKE YEAH he threatened to kill you with a fucking sword in his hand T.T

-GIRL cover your mouth when you cough...

-The snuggling is so soft goddamit, and im a sucker for a sick character being gently taken care of >.< theyre so endlessly sweet ARGH i need someone to cuddle. Where is a guy supposed to find a man like eunwoo in this economy tho. Sigh

-Please..PLEASE cover your mouth when you cough i beg. The whole lot of them theyre just as bad as each other help

-Yul: "ah with your superior instincts youve sensed theyre dating 😌 theyve been trying to keep it a secret, so keep quiet please 😉"

Min ji: "😐"

Yul: *silently, but with a lot of emotion* "..fuck"

-FUCK YEAH MORE HISTORICAL FLASHBACKS!!!!

-Are we finally gonna get the backstory... i bet its gonna be a misunderstanding plot how much do we wanne bet its a miscommunication plot. They've set up mr lee/mountain spirit too kindly to have him be a full villain i feel. Like they show an equal amount of moments that paint him in a positive light to ones that portray him as a villain. So its gotta be something like a miscommunication plot or a 'redeemed at the final moment of death' or some shit, i can feel it.. (and if im wrong. Well fuck me lol)

-Aw even back in time they were fucking adorable. But I have to say the mountain spirit romance plot takes the cake this episode for me, the tsundere storyline always wins 😔 im easy to please,,, now if only they couldve stayed happy on the mountain with the puppy kid T.T altho it feels weird when translated to the modern day cos while she was a married woman in the flashback shes a whole student in present day 💀

-But i am endlessly charmed by the mountain spirit and his pretty brown eyes and his trying so hard not to get attached to the fragile mortals <3 Also i think i reaallllly vibe with the historical aspect so ill pick up a historical drama from your list next (i still havent started another one yet sksjsk)

-My misunderstanding plot theory gains momentum! Mountain spirit looked away for literally the exact second she got stabbed and just assumes it was the dude like. I mean i get it but gAHHhhh!!

-Now now mountain spirit. Step away from the dog. Please dont kill the dOG-.... Ah.. Too late ... (unrelated but why is the vet sleeping at the animal hospital sksjsj? Protestant work ethic strikes again)

-So anyway this episode was made just to make me fall deeper in love with mr mountain spirit 😔 and im really looking forward to confict and confrontations next episode >:] (also thank you for the new recs!!! Ive added them to my list ^.^)

- 🌱

henlo! its always so fun reading your asks!!!!

pls, the coughing with the mouth open had me so mad afsfgsg i cant stand that. at least we got cute ass snuggling tho, so I felt better

the flashbacks had beautiful cinematography and we finally got some answers! the mountain spirit is cute :( he really has such pretty puppy eyes.

I agree that something major happened when he looked away. my theory is that she shaman girl will remember what really happened and let him know, and end that 200 year beef.

also, I'm pretty sure that the uncle wont die. I feel like he wll return to his human form, cause the mountain spirit will break the curse.

2 more days for the new ep!!

#🌱 anon

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blue-labcoat · 2 years

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Leave Them On

summary: bau!reader thinks that spencer looks great in his glasses

genre: fluff, smut, 4.5k

you can find the rest of my masterlist here!

warnings: nsfw, regular cm case stuff, virgin!spencer, oral (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, dirty talk, kind of praise kink, very brief breeding kink, very sub!spencer vibes, barely proofread. please let me know if i've missed anything.

a/n: glasses reid is near and dear to my heart. this ended up being longer than I intended, but it's fine bc it ended quickly. feel free to let me know what you think here!

I was already in love with Spencer Reid. Really, I had been since the first day I started working at the BAU. When I walked into the bullpen, he had been hunched over his desk, working. Later, when we had been introduced, he gave me a tight-lipped smile and a small wave, explaining that the transfer of pathogens during a handshake was astonishing.

That's all to say, I've loved Spencer since day one. Over the two years that we'd been working together, I had learned to keep my crush at bay, even if it sometimes felt like it was killing me. However, all bets were off the day he walked in wearing a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.

We had been called in on a case, and Reid was the second to arrive in the briefing room.

"Hey, y/n!" He greeted me. "How's it going?"

"Oh! Uh, not too bad," I replied, trying not to stare at him. "I didn't know you wore glasses?"

"Yeah, I usually only wear them at home, and I wear contacts everywhere else, just because I used to get bullied really badly about them. I never really understood why - it's like, just because my retinas aren't where they should be shouldn't make me an inferior human being? Anyways, I started wearing them when I was a teenager, and I just got used to it, I guess. But, I didn't have time to pick up a new box of contacts between our last case and this one, so, glasses it is."

My heart sunk thinking about Spencer being bullied. He had told me about it before, and he knew that I had been bullied in high school too. Probably not as bad as a 12-year old going to high school would have been, but I still understood what he had gone through. It never made sense to me either, that people made fun of me because I was smart.

"They look good on you," I told him shyly. "I really, really like them, Spencer. You should wear them more often."

"Thanks," he mumbled almost inaudibly, looking down at his hands. "I like your glasses too. When you wear them, at least."

"Oh, yeah. I actually prefer wearing glasses to contacts, because I always feel like the bags under my eyes are so much darker and more noticeable when I'm not wearing glasses, but it's just easier to wear them in the field. You get it." I was rambling, but Spencer didn't seem to care. He nodded, giving me one of those signature Spencer Reid smiles.

We sat in an awkward silence for a moment. I was trying to think of a way to extend the conversation, but before I had a chance, the rest of the team arrived. Penelope began the briefing, and I turned my attention to the case file in front of me. We were headed to Seattle to investigate the disappearances and murders of three girls in their early twenties.

After the flight to Seattle, Hotch sent Reid and I to the ME's office to get the information we needed from the first two victims. The third girl that was missing hadn't been found yet, and we were hoping that she was still alive.

Back at the precinct, Reid began to set up a map on the board that we'd been given. I couldn't help but stare at him as he worked - it was those goddamn glasses. I couldn't quite lay my finger on what it was that made them look so good, but whatever it was, it was severely affecting my ability to focus.

"... y/n. y/n?"

"Sorry, what was that?" I shook my head, refocusing on what Reid was trying to tell me.

"I was just saying, do you think that we should consider the fact that both of the victims at the morgue worked at a strip club? Aside from age and sex, we still have nothing connecting the victims."

"Maybe," I started. "But the third girl, the one that's still missing, she doesn't work at a strip club. I was thinking, maybe the traces of sage that the ME found on their lips and noses might have something to do with it. We kind of assumed that that was part of the UnSub's signature, but we never considered that that might be what connects the girls? Maybe they bought it at the same store, or used it for the same purpose, and that's how the UnSub connected them?"

"That's a great idea," said Spencer. "Sage has a ton of health benefits and plays a huge role in holistic medicine. We should have Garcia look into that, and see if she can connect that to the third victim."

I nodded. "I'll call her right away."

Later that day, the rest of the team met back at the precinct to start to put together a profile.

"I think we need to send someone to the strip club where the second victim worked," commented Hotch, flipping through the case file. "Reid, y/l/n, do you mind going right now? We still have some time before they close, and getting a better idea of the place where she worked will help to narrow down the profile."

"Sure," said Reid, standing up and grabbing his bag.

"Great. The two of you can head back to the hotel when you're done there and fill us in tomorrow. We'll finish the profile and deliver it tomorrow morning."

I nodded and followed Spencer to the car.

"You can drive," he told me, walking towards the passenger door.

"I thought you didn't like my driving?" I teased, smiling. It wasn't that I was a bad driver, necessarily, but I didn't have a lot of respect for speed limits.

"You speed!" Spencer exclaimed, defending himself. "Not only is it illegal, it's dangerous!"

"Well, I slow down when I need to," I said. "Plus, you're letting me drive, so it clearly doesn't bother you that much."

Spencer shrugged and mumbled something to himself, but didn't respond.

When we arrived at the strip club, a young woman dressed in a thong and a small, silver bra greeted us.

"Hi there! I'm Angie. Can I get you two a table?" She smiled, eyes flicking between the two of us.

"Oh, we actually... uhm," Spencer stuttered. He was bright red, and making a very strong effort to avoid looking at her chest.

"That's okay, honey, you don't have to be shy," the girl said, smirking at Spencer. "Lots of couples like to come to shows together. Let me find you guys a seat."

"That's okay," I cut in. "We're with the FBI, I'm Agent y/l/n and this is Dr Reid. We're investigating a string of murders in the area, and we were wondering if we could ask you a few questions?"

"Oh, sure!" Angie agreed. "You guys aren't a couple, then?"

"Um, no?" I said. "What makes you think that?"

"Just the way you're dressed, I guess," she said, motioning at us. I looked down at my clothes - I was wearing a light pink cardigan with dress pants and red converse. Spencer was wearing a navy blue cardigan over a lilac dress shirt, and he had on his converse, too.

"Plus, you guys just have the same energy, I guess. I can't really explain it," she continued.

I could feel myself blushing, and I knew that Spencer would be too (although whether it was from the suggestion of us being a couple or the fact that we were in a strip club, I couldn't tell).

Wanting to avoid any further conversation about Spencer and I, I began to ask her questions about the victim that she'd worked with. We didn't end up getting a lot of information that we didn't already know, but we did find out that the victim, Michelle, was thinking of quitting.

"Thank you for your help," I told Angie as we were getting ready to leave. Spencer began to head to the car and I began to follow him when she called my name.

"Agent y/l/n?" I turned around. "Are you and Dr Reid really not dating?"

I laughed. "No, we're not."

"But you want to, right?"

I paused. "I... how did you know?"

"I can just tell these kinds of things," she smiled. "He feels the same way, just so you know."

I blushed.

"You don't have to believe me," she continued. "I just thought you should know. I hope you catch the scumbag that killed Michelle."

"We will," I said, still thinking about what she had said about Spencer. "Thanks again for your help."

I walked to the car, where Spencer was waiting.

"What did she want?" He asked as we got in.

"Oh, she just wanted to make sure that we were going to catch the guy who killed her friend," I lied. Well, not completely, but I left out the part about her thinking that he liked me.

Spencer was quiet for a minute while I pulled out of my parking spot and onto the road back to the hotel.

"You know," he spoke up after a moment. "That's the third time that someone's thought we were a couple while we were on a case?"

"Really? When were the other two?" I racked my brain, trying to remember what he was talking about. I was certain that I wouldn't have forgotten something like that happening.

"Oh, well, you weren't there for either of them. The first time was in Atlanta - do you remember that disgusting cop that was hitting on you the entire case?"

"I think so, yeah. He tried to feel me up in the file room."

"Yeah, him. He asked me if I was 'hitting that', because if I wasn't, then I shouldn't act like your boyfriend because other people might want a chance."

I shuddered. "God, that guy was a creep. I can't believe that they let these people become cops - it's those kinds of guys that we're trying to put away."

"I know. The second time, it was that case with the psychic. She made a comment to me about us being a couple, and then was surprised when I told her we weren't. Something about our 'energies' matching up."

I chuckled weakly. That was exactly what Angie had told me. Maybe the idea of Spencer feeling the same way about me wasn't completely unlikely after all. I don't know what it was, but something made me want to take a chance.

"Why do you think people always refer to us as a couple?" I asked, turning to look at him.

"Look at the road!" He screeched, leaning over and grabbing the wheel. "If you're going to speed, you at least need to pay attention to where you're going."

I rolled my eyes. "We're fine, Reid. There's not even any other traffic, and I only looked over for a second. Answer my question."

"Well, if I had to form an educated guess, I would say that it's probably just the way we act around each other. We're very comfortable around each other, and we're really good friends. I guess that since we work well together, like, professionally, it could be construed as romantic compatibility."

As in, he considered me a good friend that he worked well with. Not a potential romantic partner.

"Then again," he continued. "Today, it might have been the fact that you couldn't stop staring at me."

My mouth opened, then closed again. "What- what are you talking about?"

"I- well, I just noticed that you were staring at me a lot today. I'm not completely sure why, but Morgan said it probably has to do with my glasses."

I grimaced. "You told Morgan that I've been staring at you all day?"

"Yes. You have been. Morgan said that it's because you like me, and that my IQ gets slashed to 60 when it comes to noticing when someone I like is interested in me, but it doesn't, it's just that I get nervous." He blurted everything out very quickly, then turned his head to look out the window.

"You- you like me? Like... me? As in, a couple-y way." I had to talk myself through what he had just told me, because there was no way that this could be happening. I was just sleep deprived, and imagining things.

"I- yes. I like you. I wasn't going to tell you, but then I considered the facts and ran the probability of you feeling the same way. I came to a conclusion based on your level of comfort around me, the amount of time we spend together outside of work, the fact that other people think we're a couple, and the fact that you complimented my glasses this morning and have been staring at me all day. There are other things too, but those are the things that play the biggest role in coming to the conclusion that you like me, too." He finished with a curt nod, but I could tell that he was nervous because of the way that he was fiddling with the buckle on his bag.

I pulled into the hotel parking lot and parked before turning to him.

"If you don't feel the same way, that's fine," Spencer started. "My math might have been wrong, I just-"

"No, Spencer, your math is right. As usual," I joked, but my expression turned serious after a second. "I really, really like you. And for the record, Morgan was right. I don't know what it is about your glasses, but yeah. You just look so good in them, I can't keep my eyes off you."

He blushed again. "Okay," he squeaked out. "I don't really know where to go from here."

"You could... come up to my room if you wanted?" I suggested.

Spencer's eyes went wide and he gulped. "O-okay."

I smiled, and we got out of the car together. When we got in the elevator, I pressed the button for our floor then turned to face him.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" I asked, looking between his eyes and his lips. His tongue darted out to wet them, and he nodded. I set one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck, then pulled him in as I leaned forward to gently press my lips against his. We stayed like that for a moment, then his hands found a place on my waist and he deepened the kiss, pulling me closer against his body.

Suddenly, the elevator dinged and we sprung apart, breathing heavily. We stepped off, and walked quickly to my room. As soon as I unlocked the door, we stumbled in and I moved to push him against the back of the door. When I did, though, he recoiled.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" I asked, worried that I had hurt him, or done something to make him uncomfortable.

"It's nothing, really, it's just that, um, technically speaking, I'm a- a virgin?" He said it like it was a question. "I'm sorry, I know that it's weird, I mean, I'm 25, and-"

"It's not weird, Spence," I told him. "You get to choose what you do with your body. If you don't want to have sex tonight, that's okay with me. We can do as much or as little as you'd like."

"That's the thing, it's not that I haven't wanted to, it's just that there's been a, uh, distinct lack of opportunity. That is to say, I want to do this with you. Tonight. If that is also what you want." He looked at me with wide eyes, Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat.

"Believe me, I want it. I want you, Spencer. I just want to make sure that you're sure that this is what you want."

He nodded frantically. "I do, I want you so bad, y/n. I need you."

This was going to be fun. I wasn't, well, experienced in a very big way, but I could tell that Spencer wanted me to take the reins, and I was very happy to do so.

"Promise you'll tell me to stop if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, or if I'm doing something you don't like?"

He nodded again, and with that, I pushed him against the back of the door like I had been about to do, and caught his mouth in a hot, urgent kiss. I grabbed his tie and pulled him towards the bed, shoving him down onto the mattress. His pupils were blown with lust, and he looked up at me from his spot on the bed with his mouth hanging open, panting.

"Sit still," I ordered him. "Keep your hands by your side, and watch me. No touching."

He followed my instructions, and whimpered softly as I took my shirt off. I bent down to take my pants off, purposely giving him a view of my boobs as I did so. As I stood up, I saw Spencer squirming on the bed.

"Like what you see, baby?"

"Yes, god yes," he managed to get out.

I smirked, and reached behind me to undo the clasp on my bra. Spencer groaned when I removed it, finally giving him a full view of my chest.

"Please, can I touch you? I just want to make you feel good," he begged.

I pretended to think about it as I approached him. "Hm, not yet," I decided. "Remember, baby boy, keep your hands on the mattress."

I undid his tie, and unbuttoned his cardigan and dress shirt, then pushed them off his shoulder and discarded them next to the bed.

"Stand up."

I undid his belt, and slid it out of its loops, then pulled his pants down. He was already hard, and there was a small wet spot on the front of his boxers. "Sit back down, hands by your side."

Spencer was a whimpering mess, and I could feel myself getting wetter with each desperate sound he made. I climbed onto his lap, purposely avoiding brushing against his cock, and lowered my lips to his neck. I placed a few kisses up and down the side of his neck, before settling just above his pulse point and sucking.

Spencer let out a loud, high-pitched moan and bucked his hips up.

"Patience, baby," I teased, nipping at the same spot and then soothing it with my tongue. My nipples were hard, and I intentionally leaned in so that they would brush against his chest.

While I continued to suck over his pulse point, I brought a hand down to roll his nipple between my thumb and index finger. As he let out another loud moan, I rolled my core firmly against his aching cock.

"y/n, please," he gasped out. "Please let me touch you. I just want to make you feel good."

I pulled back and looked at him, continuing to grind against him. His face was flushed, and his jaw was slack. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were hooded with lust.

"Okay. Since you've been such a good boy for me, you can make me feel good." I climbed off his lap and onto the bed, laying my head amongst the pillows. Spencer clambered onto the bed, leaning over me and kissing me passionately. He worked quickly down my neck, leaving a few little marks, but kept moving until he reached my boobs.

"You- you're so gorgeous. So beautiful, I'm so lucky," he rushed out, gently rubbing my nipples with his thumbs. I threw my head back with a breathy moan.

"Can I- can I suck on your nipples?" Spencer asked, looking up at me.

"You can do whatever you want, baby boy," I told him. "Show me how you can make me feel good."

He immediately bent his head down to capture on of my nipples in his mouth, continuing to stimulate the other with his fingers. He sucked gently, then swirled his tongue around it. I let out another moan, and dragged my hands up his back to tangle my fingers in his hair. I gave it a soft tug, causing him to moan against my chest. The vibrations from his moan went straight to my core.

After a minute, he switched his attention to my other nipple, following the same process. He then continued to make his way down my stomach until reaching the waistband of my underwear.

He gently brushed a few fingers over my clothed core, whimpering. "You're so wet, y/n."

"It's all because of you, baby," I told him. "You can take my panties off, now."

He obeyed, hooking his fingers in the waistband and pulling them down my legs. I let my knees fall to the side.

"Should I take my glasses off?" He asked, fiddling with his hands at the end of the bed.

"No, leave them on," I said with a cheeky smile. He blushed, but kept them on.

"Can I taste you?" He asked, looking up at me again for permission. I nodded.

First, he dragged one of his long fingers through my arousal, collecting the wetness that had collected, and brought it up to my clit.

When his finger brushed over my clit, my body jerked. He got the hint, and rubbed the bundle of nerves gently. Without hesitation, he then brought his head down and licked a long stripe up from my entrance to my clit, then wrapped his lips around it and sucked. Hard.

My hips shot up off the mattress, and I brought my hands down to his hair again, pulling his face closer against me.

"Holy fuck, Spencer!" I cried out. "You're so good, don't stop."

He continued to eat me out, alternating between swirling his tongue around my clit and sucking on it. After a moment, he experimentally slipped a finger into my heat.

"Oh my god, Spencer, shit!" I moaned as he curled his finger inside me, hitting that spot. "I'm so close, baby, you're doing so good for me."

He had removed his mouth briefly to focus on his fingers, but as he began to pump it in and out of me, he returned his lips to my clit.

I could feel my orgasm building deep in my stomach, and Spencer could too. Just as I was about to come, he slid a second finger in, hitting that spot over and over again.

I came hard, with a shout of his name. My head was thrown back, and my back arched against the mattress. He continued his motions, gradually slowing down as he worked me through my climax.

Finally, he pulled away and sat up, his mouth glistening with my arousal.

"God, that was so hot," he mumbled, crawling over me to give me another kiss. I rolled us over so that I was sitting on top of him, with my core sliding up and down his hard cock.

"You were so good for me, Spence," I told him. "Are you sure you've never done that before?"

He shook his head no. "I might be a virgin, but it's not like I've never, you know... researched it. How to please a woman. Just in case."

"You researched it?" I asked. He nodded shyly. "Fuck, that's so hot. That you want to be able to please me."

I continued to rub up against his cock. "Are you still sure you want this?" I asked, just to make sure.

"Yes! God, I want it so bad, y/n. I need to feel you around me, please," he begged.

"Okay. I don't have a condom, but I'm on the pill. And I'm clean. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes, as long as you're good with it too."

I nodded, and smiled down at him. I reached down between us to guide his cock to my entrance, and slowly lowered myself down, balancing myself with a hand on his chest.

Spencer threw his head back and let out a strangled moan. "Oh my god, y/n! I- you- fuck, you feel so good."

I would have smirked if I hadn't been in so much pleasure myself. Without lifting myself up, I ground against his hips, causing the tip of his cock to brush deliciously against my g-spot.

"Shit, Spencer, you feel fucking amazing," I groaned. "You fill me up so well, baby."

"Please move, please, I'll do anything," he begged, squirming underneath me. I took a moment to admire him beneath me - his chest was heaving, and his face had a pink flush to it still. He was tense, and I could tell he was trying to be good for me and not move. His glasses were slightly fogged up, but I didn't want him to take them off.

"You've been such a good boy for me, Spencer," I told him as I started to move, agonizingly slow, up and down. "Following my orders, pleasing me with your mouth and fingers. Keeping your glasses on, just for me. And that's very lucky for you. Do you know why?"

"Why?" He whined, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

I bent at my hips so that I could whisper in his ear. "Because good boys get to come." With that, I sat back up and began to move faster and faster up and down.

The friction and angle at which I was moving was perfect. He was hitting my g-spot every time I dropped down, and my clit brushed against his pelvis with each movement. The noises that Spencer was making spurred me on, and we were both reaching our highs quickly.

"Open your eyes," I ordered as I neared my orgasm. "I want you to watch me come." Spencer's eyes shot open, and focused on my boobs, which were bouncing up and down with each movement.

"I can't- I can't wait much longer," he managed to get out. "Please can I come?"

"Wait for me," I demanded. "I'm so close, baby. You're doing so good for me, you stretch me out so nicely. I can't wait to see what you look like when you come - knowing that I'm the only one that's ever seen that look on your face. I can't wait to feel your come filling me up. Want to have your babies inside me, Spence."

I don't know where that came on, but it just kind of slipped out and within a second, Spencer was coming with a guttural moan and cries of my name. The feeling of him spilling inside me was what pushed me over the edge.

I collapsed with a groan onto his chest, barely able to move from the pleasure. After a minute, I gave him a peck on the cheek and rolled off of him.

"I'm just going to the bathroom," I told him. He hummed and smiled lazily at me.

When I returned, he hadn't moved.

"Was that okay?" I asked, crawling back into bed and snuggling up against him.

"That was perfect. I think I'll be wearing my glasses more often from now on."

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #friends to lovers #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #glasses reid #dr spencer reid #spencer x reader #criminal minds smut

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strawberrymilkgeorge · 3 years

Text

Part Six. Movies and Speedruns

warnings: swearing, many memes word count: 3.8k (not including pictures) (wow okay ash pop off!)

behind the screen (irl!dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

A/N: LETS ALL JUST AGREE TO NOT LOOK AT THE DATES ON TWEETS AND STUFF BC SOME CHAPTERS ARE SO SCUFFED WITH DATES!!!! JUST KNOW THIS STORY STARTS MID NOVEMBER!!!!!!!! (in a world where covid doesn’t exist btw)

**********

Unknowingly and unintentionally, Y/n let out a big sigh as she poured a glass of water.

"What's wrong, Y/n?" Naomi asked gently, coming up behind her and hugging her tightly.

"Peter."

Naomi hummed, a sign that she was waiting for Y/n to lead the conversation so she could follow because if it were up to Naomi, she would immediately start trash-talking Peter and she wasn't sure if that was the vibe right now or not.

Y/n shook her head in disbelief as she jumped up to sit on the counter. "He got so mad when he found out I slept over at Karl's."

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I wish you would just cut him off completely."

"I don't know. I know I should but... part of me wonders if he could ever go back to how he was when I met him. I would probably date that guy again but not who he turned out to be."

Naomi looked horrified. "No. You sound like you're considering hearing him out. No, is that a joke? He's a bad person."

"I'm not," Y/n reassured. "I'm just thinking hypothetically. Probably because I miss having someone..."

"Y/n, you have a ton of thirsty people in your mentions. If you really want someone that bad, just scroll through, land on one and I bet they're a million times better than that sack of burned potatoes."

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled lightly. "Most of those are jokes."

"Not all of them," she teased.

"I know you're going to tell me anyway so just say it. Who specifically do you think isn't joking?"

"Dream," Naomi sang.

"Okay, crazy." Y/n reached over, staying seated on the counter as she grabbed a bowl from a cabinet on her left. She then leaned all the way right, reaching as far as she could, but couldn't quite grab a cereal box from the top of the refrigerator.

Naomi rolled her eyes as she helped, handing Y/n the box. She even went the extra step to get Y/n a spoon and the milk because she was that nice. "I'm not joking. Neither is he. Karl and I have talked about it and we both agree."

Y/n paused at her friend's words, her hand hovering over the milk that Naomi held out for her. "You guys gossip about my love life?"

Naomi set the milk next to Y/n, tired of holding it out for her. "Of course? Like we don't do that about Karl? Or you and him about me?"

She couldn't argue there.

"Karl says there's a different vibe from Dream when you join calls and I believe it. I mean, I've seen it during streams myself so I can only imagine how much more obviously in love with you he is during private calls.

"That 'vibe' is Karl's delusional mind creating things. He's too scared to talk to cameragirl so he's projecting onto Dream and I."

"Yeah, okay," Naomi agreed sarcastically.

Y/n huffed. "Besides, he's in Florida. I'm in North Carolina, in case you weren't aware."

"So you're saying if you lived in the same state, you'd date him?"

"I didn't say that." She honestly had never thought of it. Sure she liked hanging out with Dream and her stomach got butterflies when he talked directly to her and he made her smile harder than anyone ever had and he—

And she didn't like him like that. She had only officially met the guy like a week and a half ago and she didn't know what he looked like. There was no way you could catch feelings for someone without seeing them.

Naomi's expression fell again. "Distance doesn't matter, anyway."

"I swear if you say something about George I will slap you," she threatened through a smile and Naomi gave her an innocent grin back.

"If you're lonely, get on Tinder, not Peter. Or get on Dream. I have no qualms with that."

"Peter isn't even an option, Naomi." Y/n sighed, ignoring the comment about Dream. "Also," she swallowed the last of her cereal and set the bowl down with a clank. "I'm gonna tell Peter I don't want to be friends anymore. Dream and George can be added to the list of Peter haters."

"You talked to them about it?"

She nodded. "You know how I have little gossip sessions with George? Well, Dream was there too this time."

"Well, of course Dream would hate Peter. We've established that he likes you."

"No, no, you and Karl delusionally hypothesized that."

Naomi tapped the counter methodically, a sign Y/n knew to signal that she was thinking hard. "Somehow, one day, I'll prove he does."

"Good luck."

"Wanna watch a movie?"

"Yes," Y/n perked up. "Go pick something, I'll get blankets."

She went to her room, grabbing her favorite cuddling blankets. She started leaving her room when she heard a ding on her open desktop, signaling that she had a call incoming from Discord. Cool timing.

"I'll be just a second, Naomi!" she called across the house before dropping the blankets on her bed and sliding her headset on, answering the call from Dream. "Hi, Dream!" She sat on her chair and tucked her knees to her chest.

"Hi," he greeted sweetly. "How are you doing today?"

"Much better than when we last talked. How are you?"

"Great now that I'm talking to you," he said smoothly. Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "Are you busy?"

"Unfortunately, yes. My roommate and I are about to watch a movie."

"Ooh, what movie?"

"Not sure yet. Any suggestions?"

"Dark Knight. Unless you wanted me to say, like, Tangled or something."

"Yeah, girls' night is exclusively princess movies. Do you know nothing?"

"Apparently," he said with a laugh.

"What's up?"

"Oh, well, I was just gonna see if you wanted to be on call later with me, George, and Sapnap while I stream speedruns, but you're hanging out with your roommate so nevermind."

"Oh," Y/n deflated. "That sounds fun."

"I can push it back if you want to be part of it. If not, that's fine. I just thought it would be cool."

"No, no, no I really do want to, but I don't want you to have to push it back. When were you planning on starting?"

"In about an hour."

"I'll just join later if you're still playing. If that's okay that I come late."

"No. You have to be on time or not at all," he joked. "Of course that's fine," he assured. "And if I'm not playing anymore, you can still join... we usually talk for forever after we play games and it's fun. I would, er, we would love for you to hang out with us."

Y/n couldn't help the large smile on her face from staying even after they hung up and she walked back into the living room with her pile of blankets. She couldn't help it even when Naomi pointed it out and asked why she was so happy.

"Oh, uh, I've been invited to join Dream and them later for a stream."

"That vague answer doesn't warrant the shit-eating grin you have."

Y/n shrugged and cuddled more into her blankets. "What movie did you pick?"

*****

As the end credits rolled across the screen, Y/n yawned and looked over to Naomi in the dark. She was out like a light. Y/n stood up and made sure Naomi was covered in the blanket and she had a pillow. She crept back to her room and slid her headphones on, pulling up Discord where she saw the three boys' names still in a voice call.

She pulled up Twitch on her second monitor and looked for Dream's stream. It was already about an hour in. She clicked on it and her headphones echoed with the sound of George and Sapnap laughing like they said the funniest thing in the world.

"Shut up," Dream muttered. "Guys, what were the coords for the portal? Seriously, come on."

"Nobody tell him," George joked.

"George!"

"Where's Bugsyyyy?" Sapnap whined. "I want her to make fun of you with us."

"Half the stuff we're making fun of him for is about his big fat crush on her so..."

"George!" Dream yelled again. "No, it's not!"

Y/n smiled as she heard that, knowing it was a joke but laughing at the way Dream laughed at the accusation. She knew it wasn't serious or else they wouldn't talk about it on stream. George and Sapnap teased a lot, but certainly, they wouldn't out someone's crush in front of a hundred thousand viewers live.

"Oh!" Sapnap spoke out loud as George laughed loudly, both reading the text at the same time. "Speaking of..."

Dream waited for either of the two boys to elaborate but neither of them offered one. "What happened?"

"Bugsy texted us," George said off-handedly, typing a response to her. "She's coming in a second."

"Oh."

"What do you mean 'oh'?" Sapnap laughed.

"You guys have a groupchat?"

"Aw, jealous?" George asked.

Y/n joined at that moment, the first sentence coming from her Discord instead of Twitch being from Sapnap saying, "Would it make you more jealous to know our group name is Bugsy's Boys?"

"No, Sapnap, that's the one with Karl," George corrected. "The one with just you, me, and her is Bugsy's Boyfriends."

"WhAT?"

"I still don't approve of that, by the way," Y/n commented.

"Bugsy!!" Sapnap giggled happily. "You're finally here!"

"BUGSY!" George cheered.

"Hi guys!" Y/n laughed at the enthusiasm she was greeted with. "Hi, Dream!"

There was a few seconds of silence before, "Dream!!" George yelled right before the death screen appeared on the Twitch tab still opened on Y/n's right screen. "You idiot, what are you doing?! Why did you throw that run??"

She covered her mouth with the hoodie collar and laughed. "Off to a great start, bud."

"NO!" Dream yelled, knocking something, or somethings, off his desk. "Noooo! I didn't throw it, George, I FELL! Oh, that was going to be such a good run."

"What happened? How did you miss that huge ravine?" George asked while laughing. "It was literally right in the open. You didn't even try to use your water bucket."

"I-I was... I was distracted."

"By what? The completely open field with nothing blocking your vision?" Sapnap criticized with a laugh as well.

Y/n giggled to herself before letting her eyes trail to his chat, which was filled with the same accusations and guesses.

user5: BUGSY!

user2: DISTRACTED BY BUGSYS VOICE

user4: imagine saying hi so cutely that you make a man fall into a ravine

user1: are they dumb? obviously bugsy saying hi made his brain short-circut

user6: guys stop it wasn't bc she said hi. it was the g i g g l e

user3: DISTRACTED BY BUGSY!!!!

user8: HI BUGSY

user10: how to kill a man: hire bugsy to giggle and say hi directly to him

Y/n immediately blushed and covered her face again. She really had a habit of hiding even when no one could see her.

"Oh my gosh," Dream groaned, leaving the world and starting a new one. "Oh. My. Gosh. That's so annoying. I was doing so good."

"Oh," Sapnap laughed. "I understand now."

"What? What did I miss?" George asked.

"Just read chat," Sapnap explained. "They have the answer. Dream, your chat is so smart. Thanks for solving the mystery, chat!"

"No, they aren't ri— that isn't true!" Dream defended. "Chat, shut up."

"You sure?" Y/n asked teasingly, watching as his character paused when she started talking. Was she really making him this flustered just by talking? Surely not. He was just playing into the joke. He continued playing without saying anything, which made George and Sapnap laugh more.

The subject eventually changed and the atmosphere quickly became more relaxed and chill. Tonight was not a feral night like George had texted in all caps.

"Hey George," Y/n started, biting on her hoodie string with a smile because she knew Naomi would hear this when she watched the VOD the next day. "My roommate says hello."

"Oh my gosh," he muttered, making her laugh. "Let it go."

"Wow, I guess that's one way to treat your fans..."

"Fine," he sighed. "Tell her I say hello."

"Well, not if you don't mean it," Y/n teased.

"Yeah, George, you sound so unenthusiastic?" Sapnap asked.

"He's just flustered," Dream commented. "It's okay George, you can have feelings."

"Dream, you fell into a ravine because Bugsy said hi."

"Oh, come on! That's not—I just— I missed the jump! That's it!"

"I'm not flustered or unenthusiastic, I'm just tired, okay?" George explained, ignoring Dream, a yawn spilling out of him to prove it.

Y/n smiled. "Well, you could always let me give her your number if you really want..."

"No. If she had Discord you could give her that but not my phone number."

"Wait, really?" Y/n gasped. "Seriously?"

George laughed lightly. "Yeah, sure, why not?"

"YES! Okay, a huge win for the girls. Well, a huge loss for the fangirls but a huge win for the girls of this apartment."

"Oh my gosh," he muttered and she could practically see him rubbing his face in embarrassment.

"I'll send you her hashtag when she makes one so you know who to add back."

"She's going to make an account just to talk to George?" Sapnap giggled.

"Yes, dude!" Y/n defended. "She at least wants to be his friend, let her shoot her shot!"

Dream ended the steam soon after, not being able to focus enough to beat the end on any of his runs. He had streamed for just under two hours so he seemed to be getting tired as well. George went to bed soon after and after 20 minutes of talking with Sapnap and Dream, Sapnap mysteriously disappeared.

Y/n was about to leave as well, not wanting Dream to feel obligated to stay on the call with her when he spoke up.

"Does Naomi actually like George?"

"Yeah, she does."

"Then I want him to accept her love."

Y/n laughed. "How is he with long-distance relationships?"

"Well, he and I do just fine..." Dream joked. "Oh, not what you meant. I don't know, you guys are the ones that talk about each other's love lives apparently."

"You're still bitter about that?"

"Yes!"

"Suck it up," she laughed. "Naomi would do probably anything to date him so I doubt distance is a problem for her."

"George's sleep schedule is completely messed up, so the time difference wouldn't matter too much. And when he comes to America they can meet in person."

"Wait, he's coming to America?" Y/n gasped happily. "When?"

"There's no set date, but yeah eventually. He'll probably just come to Florida but we've all talked about having a huge meetup with a lot of our friends."

"Oh... cool..."

"Bug? You know you'd be invited to that, right?"

"Oh, really?" she smiled.

"Of course. You're part of the group now."

"Sick," she muttered to herself, but he heard.

"Bug, you're one of my favorite people, do you know that?"

She blushed. "Really?"

"Really."

"You barely know me, Dream."

"Yeah, well, I know enough to know that I'm sorta attached to you."

"Attached to me? In what way?"

He suddenly sounded nervous as if his brain caught up with what his mouth was saying. "I don't know, nevermind."

"No, Dream, what do you mean?" her voice was soft and understanding and it made him feel safe.

"I just... I don't know. I care about you a lot. We met only, what, like a week or two ago, and I already worry about you a lot. Playing games doesn't feel the same anymore unless you're playing with us."

"To be fair, we have been tweeting at each other for much longer than a week or two."

"Yeah, that's true. But it's not the same as actually talking to you."

She smiled shyly. "I care about you a lot too, Clay." His name sounded strange as if it suddenly made everything much more serious. "Sorry, that just kinda slipped. I won't call you Clay if you don't want me to—"

"No, it's okay, it, uh, I like hearing you... say it. But, uh, you can call me whatever you want."

She smiled widely at the nervousness in his voice and the hard pounding of her heart. "I've heard from multiple people that you never stop talking about me."

He laughed timidly. "Maybe. Do you talk about me?"

"Ask Karl," she giggled. "My guess is yes." Her stomach felt tingly and her hands shook lightly. Why did she feel like this all of a sudden? It was late, she reasoned. That, or it was because Naomi had planted the seed of curiosity in her mind. Did Dream like her? No... right?

"I'm sorry if my chat was making you uncomfortable at the beginning when I died..."

"Don't worry, I wasn't uncomfortable."

"It was true, by the way," he paused, "what they were saying. Just... in case you were wondering."

Y/n couldn't wipe the smile off her face, which was growing painful at this point. "What, my voice makes your brain short-circut? That was one comment I saw."

Dream laughed. "More like your entire presence, but... yeah I guess so."

How is someone supposed to respond to something like that? The sweetness in his voice almost made her sick but in a good way.

And just like when he named her Minecraft flower something sweet knowing that no one would see it, why was he still playing up the joke when no one was around?

Not knowing what to say, she decided to let him in on a little secret. "If it matters, you're one of my favorite people too."

"It does."

There was a deathly moment of tense silence as if both of them were screaming to say something but neither did.

"Basically, if we do have a meet-up, I'll sue you if you don't come."

Y/n laughed. "My pockets are empty, sir, so... good luck."

He laughed and it was music to her ears.

"Are you not nervous to show everyone your face? Like, if or when we do all get together."

"Not really. Especially not if it's just to our friends. Are you?"

"Yeah," she admitted.

"Why?"

She sighed. "I'm sure people have me painted in a specific way in their heads and I've seen fanart of me that is way different and way more attractive than I am. I just don't want to let anyone down by not living up to their expectations."

"Bug," Dream said softly, "you couldn't let anyone down."

"You don't know that."

"You can't disappoint real friends or real fans with the way you look."

"To be clear, Dream," she laughed nervously, afraid she would sound conceited, "I don't think I'm ugly. I like the way I look. I'm happy with me. But that doesn't mean I can't still let people down."

"Different than expected doesn't mean disappointing."

His words smacked her in the gut. He was right. Reality and imagination are very different. Neither has to be better or worse than the other. She could look the complete opposite of how someone expects but that doesn't mean they will be either disappointed OR pleased. And why does it matter anyway? If she likes how she looks, who cares what other people think?

"It's also scary to think of getting recognized in public," she admitted. "Being recognized from the start is one thing because it starts off slowly with only a few people knowing your face but if the first time people see your face is when you have millions of fans, the recognition would be overwhelming."

"That's true. I don't think I would mind that much, though."

"Of course not, you're you."

"What does that mean?"

"You like the spotlight."

"I guess. Not all the time."

"Well, what about you?" she asked. "Are you afraid of people knowing what you look like?"

"No. I want to do a face reveal soon but I don't know how I would do it. I want to do it at some kind of event or something but I don't know."

"I need to schedule around when you do it because you'll break the internet. Give us content creators a warning so we can prepare to not get viewers for a week."

Dream laughed. "Oh come on."

"Twitter would just be full of the same picture of you in every single tweet."

"It won't be that big of a deal."

"Something tells me your millions and millions of subs say otherwise."

"Whatever," he said. "As if you wouldn't break the internet too."

"Maybe for a day or two. But you'd break everything for weeks."

"Sure." There was a long pause before Dream softly said, "Karl's lucky."

"How so?"

He didn't speak for a moment, almost like he wasn't prepared for that question because he didn't mean to be heard. "I wish I could know you the way he does."

"You could. He and I knew each other in person first so it's different. You and I could get there eventually."

"You think so?"

"I know so. I trust you a scary amount for someone I met weeks ago."

"I didn't mean to sound like I'm trying to pressure you into showing me your face or telling me your name. I didn't mean like he gets to know what you look like and I don't. I meant, like, I wish we could hang out in person because I prefer that over talking in Discord."

"I get it, Clay. I feel the same way," Y/n said softly. There were a few moments of silence before she spoke again.

"Oh, gosh, it's already four."

Y/n's head snapped to look at her clock, which read 3:57am. "Already?" she whispered. "Dang."

As if acknowledging the time changed the atmosphere, it suddenly felt like 4am. Her back ached from her shifting in her chair so much over the last few hours, never being able to find a good position. The house was eerily quiet and all she heard was the low hum of the heater. The house felt stale, not used to its occupants being so alert and awake at that hour.

"I should probably go to bed..."

"Yeah, me too," Dream agreed. His voice sounded tired. "Thanks for joining us, it was really fun with you."

"Thanks for inviting me. Sorry I made you die. Hopefully you'll still let me back again."

"You're always invited to barge into my streams. Actually."

Y/n giggled again and mentally slapped herself for sounding like a little kid. "Well, you too. You can interrupt my streams anytime."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Goodnight, Clay."

"Goodnight, Bug."

**********

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**********

taglist: OPEN (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn @itshaileyn @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot @jabby16 @mae-musicbitch @hungoverhellhound @dreamyteam @kuroo-icedtea @stuffforreferences @menacingaesthetic @sapphic-soot @fangeekkk @haseulreturns @queenwastaken @peteysgf @losingvienna @bi-narystars @zero-nightshade

#rpf #real person fic #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x y/n #mcty x reader #mcyt x y/n #clay x reader #smau #dream smau #dreamwastaken smau #social media fic #social media au

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mxlti-fand0m-imaginess · 3 years

Text

Ouija Board // Tate Langdon

request: none

prompts: none

warnings: use of a ouija board, murder, crying, scaring people

a/n: i just used random names for the friends, so sorry if that’s your name :)

“Come on y/n, don’t chicken out on us now!” Liz said, dragging you towards the house.

“It’ll be fun! I promise,” Dylan said, grabbing a large rock to break the doorknob.

You were stood in front of the infamous Murder House. And stupidly, you let your friends talk you into coming here and using a ouija board. You never really believed in ghosts or anything like that, but you were still scared nonetheless.

“There are easier ways to get in you know,” Liz said, rolling her eyes as Dylan smashed the rock against the doorknob, knocking it to the floor.

“Yeah but this is more fun.”

“Should we really be doing this? We could get in trouble for breaking in. I don’t think I could survive jail.”

“Oh my god y/n, we’ll be fine. And Dylan knows what he’s doing. Besides, don’t you wanna talk to ghosts?”

“Nope, not really.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun.”

“Ok, I got the door open!”

The two of you looked towards the door where Dylan was. The door was now open, and he had already walked inside. You felt your stomach drop, wanting nothing more than to get out of there. But Liz had other plans. She grabbed your arm and began to drag you inside.

With a sigh, you gave up on fighting and figured you might as well try to have fun. When you vented the house, an overwhelming smell of mold filled your senses. It was disgusting. There was sheets over the furniture, and leftover belongings scattered everywhere.

“That’s weird, there isn’t any dust here,” Dylan said as he swiped his finger along the mantle.

“Maybe there’s a maid ghost who has to spend eternity cleaning. That sounds like an awful afterlife,” Liz replied, laughing softly.

“Can we just get this over with already? I’m getting bad vibes from this place,” you said, feeling as if someone’s eyes were trained on you.

“That’s kinda the point. This is supposedly the most haunted building in the world. So many people have been brutally murdered. I would give anything to live here.”

“Dylan, you are really fucked up,” Liz said while laughing.

You rolled your eyes at your best friends, and followed them deeper into the house, until you arrived in front of a door.

“Here it is, the basement. I’ve read online, that most of the ghosts like to stay down there.”

“Let’s go!” Liz squealed, pushing the door open and speeding down the stairs.

Dylan followed her, leaving you alone at the top of the stairs. You sighed and started to walk down the steps. The. you heard a noise from behind you. You quickly turned around to see that the door was shut.

You brushed it off, thinking you must’ve bumped it, and continued down the stairs to find Dylan and Liz setting the ouija board up. You sat down beside them and tried to calm yourself, knowing it would all be over soon.

“Ok, place your fingers on the cup, and then we can talk to the ghosts.”

You and Liz did what Dylan said, placing your fingers on top of the glass placed in the middle of the bored.

“Is there anyone there?” Dylan asked.

Nothing happened for a second, but then the cup started to move. It dragged itself over to the ‘yes’ and then stopped.

“Oh my god,” you murmured, starting to feel fear come over you.

“What’s your name?” Liz asked the ghost.

The cup moved again, and began to spell out a name.

H-A-Y-D-E-N

“Y/n, ask them something!” Liz said smiling excitedly.

“Is there anything you want to tell us?” you asked, not really sure that you wanted an answer.

R-U-N

The lights in the basement flickered off leaving you guys in the darkness.

“I’m pretty sure that’s our cue to leave,” you said, beginning to stand up.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Liz said.

The three of you got up and ran towards the straits, trying to get out of the basement. Liz and Dylan made it out, but the door slammed in front of you before you could follow.

You pulled on the door knob but it wouldn’t budge. You started to pound on the door, screaming for Liz and Dylan, but they were too far away to here you.

“They can’t hear you. They already left,” a voice behind you said.

You turned around and stared into the darkness.

“Who are you?” you asked, feeling your voice quiver.

“Wow, you forgot me already? Ouch. I’m Hayden, remember? I told you to run, but I guess you didn’t wanna listen.”

You didn’t get the chance to say anything, before you felt yourself being shoved down the stairs. You tumbled down them, before landing on the concrete floor of the basement.

You carefully tried to pull yourself up, but you were immediately pushed back down again. The lights turned on and you screamed at what you saw before you. A monster like creature hovered above you, and the next thing you saw was black.

You slowly opened your eyes and sat up, feeling your conscious come back to you. You looked around, panicking, trying to remember where you were. Then it all came back to you. The basement. Murder House. Liz and Dylan. They left you.

You wanted to be angry, but you didn’t have the time. Right now, you just had to get out of here. You wanted to go home and be safe in your room. You took off running, heading up the stairs and out of the basement.

You ran toward the front door, pushing it open and heading towards the street. But then, you were back in the house. You ran out again, only to end up back inside once more. You tried over, and over to leave, but you couldn’t. You kept ending up back inside the house.

You gave up. You let your weight fall against a wall behind you, and slid down it, curling into a. ball sobbing. We’re you going crazy? What was happening to you? Why couldn’t you leave? Why can’t you remember anything after entering the basement?

Then you felt a presence beside you. A teenage boy, with wavy blond hair and dark brown eyes. He was beautiful. You might’ve been feeling butterflies, if not for the overwhelming sense of panic that currently filled you.

“Hey, I’m Tate,” he said smiling softly.

“Y/n,” you replied hesitantly.

“So, I bet you’re pretty confused right now.”

“How’d you know?”

“Well, I saw you running around, trying to leave.”

“Why can’t I?”

He fell silent for a moment, and locked away.

“Uhm, you’re dead.”

Your eyes widened and you immediately stood up and backed away from him.

“What? I’m not dead! My friends and I came here to talk to ghosts and now they’re gone and I can’t leave. But I’m not dead! That’s crazy!”

“Y/n, I saw you die. I moved your body,” he paused for a second before continuing,” Do you wanna see it?”

“Wait so let me get this straight. You just watched me get murdered and did nothing about it, you moved my body, and now you wanna show it to me? You’re crazy! None of this makes sense! I’m not dead! I can’t be dead! I think I would remember dying!”

“You can’t. No one can. I don’t remember my own death. I’ve only heard what people told me.”

“Oh really? You’re dead too? Fine, then tell me? How did you die?”

He went silent once more.

“I don’t wanna tell you.”

“See, I knew it! You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying, it’s just-, if I tell you, you’re going to be scared of me.”

You laughed once more, not believing a word that he was saying.

“I doubt that. If you really are dead, just tell me!”

“Fine! I was shot by the cops.”

Then it hit you. Shot by the cops. You remembered hearing about that when Dylan went on one of his rants about the house. Wait, Tate as in Tate Langdon? The guy who shot up your high school in the 90s?

“Do you believe me know?” he asked softly.

“Oh my god. You were that guy who shot up my high school like thirty years ago right? Wait, so you are telling the truth. But I, I can’t be dead. There’s so much I still wanted to do. I’ve never even fallen in love, I’ll never have a future. I’ll never get to do anything with my life.”

You started to sob again, realization washing over you. He wasn’t lying. You were dead. You were really dead. You felt a pair of arms wrap around you, and you looked up to find Tate hugging you.

Slowly you wrapped your arms around him, desperately searching for comfort. But that said comfort was soon gone when someone else started to speak.

“Aw, am I interrupting something?”

That voice. You’ve heard it before. Part of it came back to you. It was her. She pushed you down the stairs. You pulled away from Tate and glared at the girl.

“You! You killed me!” you yelled at her.

“No, no, no. I didn’t kill you. I just helped that creature down there do it.”

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“It was getting boring. I wanted someone new around here.”

“Go away Hayden,” Tate said, glaring at her.

“Ugh fine,” she said before disappearing.

“Well, I guess I’ll show you around?”

a few months later

It’s been a few months since you’ve died, and you’ve already adjusted to your new life. Things weren’t so bad. You were kinda friends with Violet, and you and Tate have been dating for a while.

Being dead didn’t really bother you anymore. You’ve started to see the bright side of it. No more getting sick. You didn’t have to take your finals. And you never had to see your so called “friends” who left you here to die.

At least that’s what you thought. You and Tate were sitting together in the basement when the door opened. You didn’t think much of it, until you heard a familiar voice.

“How do you even know she’s here?”

You gasped. It was Liz. And Dylan was walking right behind her. They were back. You were so angry at them for leaving you. They left you behind to die.

The two of them sat down next to you and Tate, setting up their ouija board. You looked at Tate and smirked. You were going to have fun with this.

“Is anyone there?” Dylan asked.

You walked over to them and pushed the cup to yes.

“Who are you?” Liz said, seeming a little more nervous than she was the last time she was here.

You moved the glass to spell out your name, laughing when you saw how scared the looked.

“Y/n, we’re so sorry! We thought you were behind us! And when we finally got outside, the door wouldn’t open,” Dylan said.

You moved the cup once more.

Y-O-U-L-E-F-T-M-E

“Y/n we’re sorry! No one believed us when we went to get help. Your parents thought you ran away. We tried! We really did!” Liz pleaded.

Y-O-U-D-I-D-N-T-E-V-E-N-C-O-M-E-B-A-C-K

“We were too scared. We’re so sorry. Y/n, please.”

You and Tate laughed at their pleas. You weren’t going to forgive them. You couldn’t. Not after what they did to you.

“Go mess with the lights!” you asked Tate.

He nodded and ran over to the light switch, flicking it on and off.

“Dylan, maybe we should get out of here!”

L-E-A-V-I-N-G-S-O-S-O-O-N-?

“No we’re not! Liz, come on we have to talk to her.”

“I don’t know Dylan, they seem angry.”

You decided to let them hear you. You kept yourself hidden, but let your voice be heard.

“Angry? Why would I be angry? It’s not like the only people I’ve ever trusted forced me to come when I said I didn’t want to and them left me to die. Oh wait? That did happen.”

When you finished speaking, Tate left the lights off. The door opened at the top of the stairs, and Dylan and Liz ran. They left the board and left the basement, heading for the open front door. Before they could get out, Tate slammed it shut. They both screamed.

“Aw, you’re leaving already?” you asked, before laughing.

Then you let them see you. You appeared in front of the door, and you made your wounds visible too.

They gasped when they saw you. Covered in scratches and dripping blood. Clothes torn to shreds. Bruises littering you.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” Liz said stepping closer to you.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’m sorry,” Dylan said to you.

You didn’t say anything you only glared at them. Then Tate appeared beside you.

“You two should leave before you’re not able to anymore.”

Then you and Tate disappeared and opened the door, allowing them to run out, before slamming it shut once more.

As soon as they were gone, you both burst out laughing. Sure you’ve scared people who’ve tried to buy the house before, but this was the best reaction you’ve ever gotten. They were terrified.

“So do you finally feel like you got your revenge?” Tate asked, smiling brightly at you.

“Yeah, thanks for helping me,” you said, pulling him into a tight hug.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’d do anything for you.”

Taglist: @ahsxual @darlingkitt @1800-fuckbitchesgetmoney @horrorgirlx @jamespotterslover

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theunholygrails · 3 years

Text

Foolish Games Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: Introducing new characters and some drama! Percy is still sexy as ever :'(.

Warnings: BJ

I woke up to a door slamming so hard it joined the symphony of my pounding headache. I groaned, hoisting myself over the back of the couch to investigate to intrusion. A brunette head of long sweeping hair rushed through the foyer, barreling towards the kitchen. A familiar mop of black hair hurried after.

Reyna was speaking so fast in Spanish my brain scrambled to keep up. I noted lots of curse words followed by a series of sentences too fast I was surprised she even knew what she was saying. Percy was answering in slow measured words, probably fighting a hangover of equal measure. I ducked behind the back of the couch, reaching for my phone plugged in on the coffee table.

It was noon. 2% battery and a couple messages from friends. Nothing from my ex thank gods. Five from Annabeth being nosey. I opened my uber app, squinting in the sunlight breaking through the cream curtains. I managed to get my driver secured.

A door slammed and I winced, peaking to check that they were in another room. I did not immediately spot my dress in the chaotic. I grimaced remembering the midnight swim. When I sat up I finally noticed the white tshirt I wore and the basketball shorts. And then I went rigid remembering what happened after the swim.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered.

Now I really had to get out of this house. I checked the arrival time of my driver. Three minutes away. Great. I made my way on shaky knees to the large wooden front door. My keys were still in the collection dish. I grabbed them quietly and turned the door handle a fraction of an inch before another door slammed open and Reyna came barreling back into the foyer, brown eyes landing promptly on my guilty ass. Behind her, Percy pursed his lips into a thin line and raised both of his hands to lay on top of his head. His biceps strained nicely against the thin t shirt.

“The fuck is this?” Reyna whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” I babbled.

“It’s just Noa, Rey. Gods,” Percy said.

“I can see that, Percy!” She snapped. I was glad her spear was not strapped across her back this morning. “Why is she sneaking out of my house in your clothes?”

“People were swimming last night. Her clothes got wet.”

“I’m sure the fuck they did.”

“Zeus, Rey! You ended it with me. Why does it even matter?”

“Because I still fucking love you! I’m sorry, okay?” She burst out crying and Percy instantly pulled her against his chest. The memory of being in those arms drove me out the door like a nest of hornets.

~~~~

“I’m just saying. You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Annabeth paused to sip her iced coffee. “Unless they get back together and then you sleep with him. But as of right now, you’re good. Trust me. Been on the Percy train. We’re still friends. You’ll get over it. Just a harmless rebound for both of you.”

I groaned, laying my chin on the cool metal table parked outside our favorite coffee shop positioned between our New York apartments. Just two Manhattan women enjoying their Sunday afternoon. The air was cooling as fall neared. I pulled my baseball cap closer to the top of my sunglasses.

“Should I call him?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Let him deal with his relationship drama. Reyna is a lot to deal with. Still nothing from fuckface?”

“Nope and that’s fine.”

“Good for you. We will hydrate you, get you a good dinner, hit the gym before work in the morning and then get back on our bad bitch mental track. Agreed?”

~~~~

“Good Monday, yogis,” I chirped from my desk at the corner of my studio.

The third class was beginning to trickle in and I was settling into my rhythm. Hot yoga was next and hopefully I would sweat out all the negativity I’d allowed lately. I was in the middle of emailing back a potential client when someone rapped at the wood of my desk. I glanced up to a blonde male who waved gently.

“Heya, sansei Noa,” he said.

“That’s karate. Can I help you?”

“Do you do trial classes?”

I hit send on my email and closed my laptop. The guy was built like a poser with the defined muscles and chiseled jaw but his voice was soft and tempered. He was clean shaven and dressed like a basic gym bro.

“Normally you have to schedule them beforehand because of class size,” I gave my standard answer.

“Right, my bad. Sorry. I was just passing by the front and it looked like the kind of place I needed right now. Can I go ahead and pick a date then?”

I was staring too long into his pale blue eyes, honed in on the polite response. A nice change from the daily demanding consumers. “You know what? Ive got space right now if you like? Have you ever done hot yoga?”

A brilliant white smile showcasing sharp canines. “My favorite.”

“Perfect. I just need a name, number and email to get you a file started.”

He leaned large hands on my desk. “It’s Luke Castellan.”

Before he could give the contact information, I cut him off. “Wait. I know you.” His tanned skin paled significantly.

“I…”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” I blurted out.

His eyes skated around the room and he leaned in closer. “That’s not supposed to be public knowledge. I assume you’re a demigod?”

“Luke, you trained me. We took fucking sculpting together. The Apollo table was right next to the Hermes one for fuck’s sake.”

He winced. I heard a murmuring from the rest of my class I was disturbing with my volume. I collected my shock finally. “Take a seat if you want. We should talk after class. I need to start.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry Noa.”

I waved him off and walked over to my yoga mat. I sat cross legged and drew in an even breath to smooth out my emotions.

It was a slow 30 minute class. Each pose and movement dragged on. Finally, I dismissed the group and nodded Luke outside. He was waiting on the bench outside of the studio I split renting with a few other instructors. I sat next to him, wiping sweat from my face with the towel slung over my pink sports bra.

“Alright, talk,” I said.

“Not much to say. I was given a second chance at my hearing. Here I am. Starting over.” A shrug of well-defined shoulders. The muscles flexed beneath his gleaming sweat. His red tank top stuck to his chest and stomach. “I wish I remembered you, truly. That time is such a blur in my life.”

“It’s ok. You were a lot older than me and to be honest I had a massive crush on you so I probably hid most of the time.”

A surprised smile slipped across his lips. “I’m assuming the betrayal helped you get over that?”

I laughed outloud, slapping his knee. “No shit! So where are you staying these days?”

“Just around the corner actually. Got a job at the local gym.”

“Yeah I bet the fuck you did.” I squeezed his forearm between both of my hands. I wanted to roll my eyes at me falling back into my school girl giddy at him. Betrayal of the gods aside. He was even more gorgeous than ever. The scar down his face gave him a dark sexy vibe. Like a bad boy even though he claimed he was rehabbing himself now.

“So how, did you feel about the class?”

“I mean, I’d like to sign up for it a couple times a week, that’s for sure. And I’d like to take you out to dinner to make up for not remembering a beauty like you.”

I almost bit my cheek biting out the response of “Yes!”

“You’ve got my number,” he said, chuckling quietly. “I’ve got to get to work.” He shouldered his gym bag and excused himself.

The bike back to my apartment was spent reliving my tween fantasies about bad boy Luke. I opened my apartment door and screeched seeing a man sitting at my kitchen counter. Percy turned to face me.

“You know you live in New York? You should really lock that.”

“It was!” I snapped.

A quick grin. “Yeah. But it was easy to break into.”

I dropped my bag onto the floor and brushed past him to get a protein shake from the fridge. “I have to shower and get prepared for my night classes.” I told him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

He paused, studying my face in the shitty lighting of the single bulb hanging between us over the counter. “Are we good, Noa?”

“Of course. What’s a little head between friends?”

“Okay…I can’t read you. Can you not play tough just for a minute?”

I chugged the shake and set the bottle down between us. I leaned my arms on the chilled counter, bun knocking against the light. “Honestly, Percy. I’m fine. We are good.”

“Reyna moved back in.”

“You’re engaged again?”

I drank from the empty bottle to give myself something to do. He watched me with those green eyes. He’d known me for far too long. He was nearly impossible to deceive, but I was determined today. The fact that I had dreamt of fucking him two consecutive nights was irrelevant if he was off the table. Even if his lips did look incredibly juicy tonight. Even if they had done near illicit things to me just nights ago.

“I don’t know. She said she wanted to work on things. And it’s her dad’s house, so I can’t ask her to go and I don’t want to go to my mom’s and admit defeat.”

“You know you could stay here, Perc.”

He worked his jaw silently, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks. I do know. Even if we aren’t officially back together, I think we should work on it…” he trailed off.

“And not tell her about you eating me out?” I leaned closer because I was mean to both him and myself. Because I knew this top combined with this angle gave him a simple opportunity. And he took it.

His tongue slid out between his lips as his eyes flicked down, stayed, then dragged deliberately back up. “Probably not,” he agreed.

For a long moment neither of us said anything. He had more to lose now than me. We were no longer on equal playing fields. So, I left the ball in his court. “I’m going to go shower.”

I was done washing in the first ten minutes. The second ten was giving him a little wiggle room to decide. I had my hand on the faucet to cut off the water that was beginning to go cold when I heard the door creak open. I watched through the fogged glass, catching a hold of my breath. I watched as he tugged his shirt off. My stomach flipped over itself when he reached for his jeans. What had I done?

The opening door let in a rush of cool air, perking my skin to attention. My eyes raked unapologetically over his naked, aroused body. His dark hair quickly slicked against his stubble covered jaw. His eyes were no longer the sea green but murky like the deep water of the ocean.

“Hey,” he said quietly, cautiously.

“Hey,” I giggled, reaching out to touch his rough jaw. He winced, catching my hand with his. “We probably shouldn’t kiss again.”

“Sure, whatever you want, Percy. What can I do to you?”

He groaned, turning his mouth into my palm, scraping teeth against the vulnerable skin. “Touch me,” he said.

My free hand instantly planted against his chest, scraping at the muscle. His eyes fluttered closed, head tilting back to expose his throat. I slid my other hand into his thick hair, tugging it tightly between my fingers and pulling to grant myself more access to the strong column of his neck. I bit it first, backing him into the tiled wall when he shuddered. I kissed over the reddening skin and moved my hands to his flat stomach, feeling the shuddered breaths beneath my touch.

“Like this?” I asked.

His reply was unintelligible. I kissed down his chest, moving my hand lower still as I went. When my fingers brushed over the v-line of his hips, I shifted my route away from the center and to his thighs. An annoyed grunt escaped his lips. “Hush,” I scolded, getting my knees under me. The now cold water was hitting the back of my neck and flowing down my body. I placed my hands on the inside of both his thighs, trailing them upwards and upwards until he nearly contorted when I gripped him. He let out a scandalous string of curses that quickly turned to moaning silence when I took him into my mouth.

He unraveled in minutes and I let him cum all over the breasts I had teased him with earlier. I rose in front of him, my own rosy cheeks mirroring his. “Now we’re even.”

#percy jackson smut #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson #logan lerman smut #logan lerman fanfiction

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munohlow · 3 years

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Ok real quick gonna propose an idea for that powerpuff girls reboot:

Don’t

But it if they really must (they shouldn’t!), there’s some better ways I think they could go about it, as well as what I’ve seen floating around (like don’t).

Pretty much all of these are assuming they’ll go the gritty reboot route because that’s pretty popular atm. A dark gritty take on anything is getting a bit tired, I think people are more open to weird and sincere stories, whether they’re adaptations or original. But recently a lot of comics (good comics!) 10+ years old are getting faithful adaptations (good adaptations!) and reviving that early/mid 2000’s taste for “what if Superman, but bastard?”

Aright one route they could go would be like that of Samurai Jack season 5 on Adult Swim. Written and animated by the original team and keeping to its truest nature while maturing it a bit along with the original fan base and maybe have an overarching plotline. The difference being that keeping it like the original ppg would create a stronger contrast with more mature and brutal violence, similar to Invincible’s friendly neighborhood Spider-man vibes and use of graphic violence.

This would be the second best way to adapt besides not doing it at all..... but that would also take more money and might not last beyond a season, ending with a solid conclusion like Samurai Jack did. Plus I’m semi doubtful the original team would be on board to drag out the girls’ story, especially like this.

Addressing the leaked script, a common comparison made was to the Netflix adaptation of The Umbrella Academy. Both are loose adaptations about child superhero siblings coming together after years of being apart, dealing with childhood trauma and their parent’s wrecklessness as adults.

And talking monkey.

Where Umbrella Academy made changes for the sake of depth and character development amidst the sci-fi madness, the CW Powerpuff Girls script attempted to be edgy and gross for the sake of being edgy and gross. They just want to be mature and topical while ignoring everything enjoyable about the original. It also just straight up sucks. I’m no writer but it seems like a lot of people who are writers are pretty pissed about paid professionals pushing this to the point of post-production. Well not post production, it was being filmed, but I enjoy alliteration. That’s also pretty far into development for something this bad, while it was rejected and is being reworked, it still got approved by enough people to shoot a pilot. If the leaked script itself isn’t a marketing ploy, I imagine that’s the real reason it was shut down. CW probably would’ve went through with it, otherwise. Maybe just keep it cancelled, yeah? Yeah.

This idea isn’t mine either but instead of the child star allegory, it could be more interesting to sort of see it carry on from where it left off, as the continued adventures of the powerpuff girls. Similar to the The Venture Bros. (a show I have not watched but know vaguely about, again this is someone else’s thought, I just think it sounds good) the girls can be grown up but start to realize they want to explore their lives and goals as individuals outside of heroism.

This at least appeals to me because you can keep the show’s status quo, keep the characters together, and have them grow into better more interesting characters as opposed to starting with a dour world where everyone is dead or just worse insufferable people. Instead, begin where audiences are comfortable and open to a new interpretation then let the characters realize there’s more to life and explore what kind of people they can become. (Or just don’t do it.)

Also just hear me out, but maybe, possibly? perhaps the professor was a good dad in the original cartoon? And let’s keep that? Let him remain a wholesome father figure? Is that okay? Don’t make this reboot? But if they do, keep him a nice loving parent?

Since this is the CW/ Warner bros who own DC comics, the best case scenario (cancelled) would be to make it more like the MANY SUPERHERO SHOWS THEY ALREADY MAKE. The good ones, anyway. I’m pretty sure the girls have crossed over with some DC characters in the cartoon already, why not make them canon DC characters? Maybe not. Could be cool! Better not, though. But they could still model the show after some of their better shows. Flash, Arrow, Supergirl are all not bad depending who you ask. I just finished Gotham, that was neat. Superman and Lois sounds like it’s pretty good so far. Powerpuff girls would better suit an earnest, straightforward, lighthearted take. Keep the humor, idk maybe up the violence to keep it dark and cool if that’s what people want (we don’t) and have it contrast with family drama like Invincible. All that to say that a darker, comical, well-written, DC-ish superhero thing they should look to for reference should be Doom Patrol.

This show fuckin litty. It’s like the better parts of Legends of Tommorow and Titans put together, as in it’s super weird and dumb but in a way that’s fun and moving. I recently rewatched season one as refresher before getting into season two and dammit if it didn’t get me in my feels amidst the quarantine. It’s about broken people working through their issues and pulling themselves together to help one another. Admittedly, it doesn’t have the best representation of those with disassociative identity disorder, as one character sometimes referred to as “Crazy” Jane has a different superpower with each of her alters. The character is very much a product of the 80’s but the writers of the show do their best to show that Jane respects the alters and their free will. But it also deals with topics of abuse, self-image, trauma, disabilities, homophobia, discrimination, and more in a way that gave me some catharsis while watching after all that’s been going on the past couple of years. Aside from all the comedy and action, it all flows together naturally, which is what you want in any series, not just your gritty superhero show. Doom Patrol is also batshit weird, every episode feels almost self contained/ freak-of-the-week while still following the main overarching plot, and Powerpuff Girls is very much like that, without the bigger plot or mature themes (as it should remain, let it be). Many will find it vaguely similar to The Umbrella Academy because GERARD WAY WAS INSPIRED BY DOOM PATROL TO WRITE THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY. The og comics, not the show, but still.

Also let’s address this

The hell was this about?

Anyway Idk maybe I sound like “Old Man Yells at Cloud,” but this really isn’t the way to go. Don’t do it, CW. Leave it alone, CW. Just don’t do it. We don’t need more sequels and reboot cash grabs, there’s plenty of up and coming writers with good original ideas waiting for their shot. And even with all those new edgy shows and movies, some of which are actually not bad, not everything needs to be so grim. Like sure Teen Titans Go! is a goofy reboot but it’s still just a fun dumb cartoon, it’s not bad, I bet that other ppg show was also just fine. Maybe YOU are “Old Man Yells at Cloud.” But what do I know?

And all THAT to say you should go watch all those other things I mentioned and some old ppg episodes back to back, instead. Don’t fuckin do it, CW

#powerpuff girls #powerpuff cw #powerpuff bubbles #powerpuff blossom #powerpuff buttercup #the cw #samurai jack #invincible #the umbrella academy #venture bros #doom patrol #dc #gorillaz #more nerd shit #long post #umbrella academy #don’t do it

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superhero--imagines · 3 years

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Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here!

Donate to Higher Ground HERE!

Song for this Chapter - (X)

A/N: Posted a day early because a few people asked me to, I think y’all are going to like this chapter :)

* “So what’s your pick (Y/N/N)?”

* You turn to your right, seeing Tyler’s grinning face.

* “Pick for what?” You take another modest sip from your glass.

* Conner’s throwing a party at his house since his parents will be gone all weekend.

* Half the school must be here, his house is almost as big as the Cullen’s

* Tyler exchanges a look with Conner and Mike and grins.

* The three of you and Angela are sitting in his Dad’s study, drinking his finest brandy

* You’ve just been taking very small polite sips to throw off any suspicions

* The upside to being a vampire: you can’t taste anything other than blood so the alcohol just tastes like water

* The downside: you stay drunk until you force yourself to throw it up

* “F*ck, Marry, Kill: me, Conner, and Mike.”

* You wrinkle your nose and Angela laughs

* “Gross questions like that are why I don’t sit with you guys at lunch anymore.” The others laugh and you take a sip of you drink as Tyler grins

* “It’s a game, everyone’s gone except you”

* Have they? You’ve been pretty tuned out, Jessica and Bella left to go to the bathroom like 20 minutes ago.

* To add, you haven’t seen either Edward, Emmett, or Rosalie since you all came together in the jeep.

* Things are still...different between you and Edward

* He’s not outwardly hostile towards you or anything but...

* He doesn’t smile at you anymore

* Not like he used to, with that carefree boyish grin

* Just thinking about it gets you down

* You were fairly surprised when he said he would come with you, Rosalie and Emmett to Conner’s party.

* You were less surprised when he basically abandoned you as soon as you got into the house

* You’ve been trying to see if you can hear any of your friends in the house but you haven’t been able to distinguish any voices yet

* You sigh, holding your drink out to Mike

* “Marry,” the bright grin on his face almost makes you feel bad.

* “Kill, kill” your drink sways as you point to Tyler and Conner.

* Another roar of laughter

* “Hey that’s not fair, you can’t kill both of us!” Tyler protests, you roll your eyes moving to stand

* “Fine F*ck Conner, kill Tyler. Angela you wanna come with I’m going to the bathroom”

* You want to go see what’s holding Jessica and Bella up, but you don’t want to leave Angela alone with three boys.

* Mike’s here, and nothing would probably happen, Conner and Tyler are flirts but you like to think they wouldn’t do anything like that.

* Still you don’t want to risk it.

* She nods, gulping down the rest of her drink. Following you out.

* “Did you hear that?! They said they would f*ck me!” You hear Conner shout triumphantly after you’ve closed the door

* “Yeah but they said that they would kill you first, doesn’t count” Mike says, you hear the clink of ice as you assume he pours another drink

* “Oh getting arrogant just because they said they would marry you huh?”

* “Bet he wishes it was Bella who said she would marry him.”

* You roll your eyes holding out your hand to Angela

* “So we don’t get lost.” She smiles as she takes it. You have to practically slither through the crowd

* Conner’s house is needlessly complicated. Hallways that don’t lead anywhere and so many closets.

* The O’Malleys really should have hired Esme to design their house

* “Ah, there they are!” You see Jessica and Bella leaning against the railing of the second floor. It looks like they’re talking to someone-

* Oh it’s Edward

* Jessica notices you and works her way over to you

* But your eyes are glued to Edward and Bella, they haven’t even noticed you yet. Or that Jessica left them.

* Bella’s eyes are twinkling as she looks up at him, her cheeks are tinged pink, and Edward-

* He’s got a sparkle in his eye, his mouth quirked in that boyish lopsided grin.

* So that smile is really just for her now

* They really do look good together

* “Hey what’s wrong?” You didn’t even notice Jessica was standing in front of you.

* Are you crying right now? No of course not, you can’t cry.

* “Nothing! We were looking for you and Lauren. Mike and Tyler are playing this game that I think you two would be very into” you give her a sly wink and she blushes

* “I thought we came to go to the bathroom.” Oh sh*t you did use that as your excuse.

* “Well I didn’t wanna be obvious yknow?” You say to Angela, catching another glimpse of Bella and Edward behind her, looks like she’s laughing at something he said. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

* You turn your attention back to Angela who’s nodding.

* “Jessica why don’t you show her where it is, you just went right?” Jessica’s eyebrows thread together

* “Yeah I did but-“ she doesn’t want to leave you alone. Before you can reassure her you’ll be fine you feel someone throw their arms around you

* For a second your heart skips a beat.

* Edward?

* “Oh my god babes you look so cute, we have to take a picture together!”

* Oh it’s just Lauren

* Wait why are you disappointed? This is perfect.

* “Of course I was just looking for you!” You nod to Jessica and Angela. “We’ll meet you both back at Conner’s dad’s home office.”

* Jessica gives you a reluctant look but nods, leading Angela into the crowd.

* You take one last glance at Edward and Bella, from here he almost looks human.

* This is the way things are supposed to be.

* “Hey Lauren, wanna do some shots?”

* Lauren has her faults, but she’s always down for anything you might suggest. It’s kind of weird, but she reminds you a little of Alec.

* So you’re a little impressed when she finds a several bottles of vodka hidden in a various books.

* “Conner’s mom has a drinking problem, shhhhh don’t tell anyone”

* Yeah you kinda figured

* “We brought vodka!!” She shouts when she enters the study earning cheers from the rest of the boys.

* Looks like Jessica and Angela aren’t back yet.

* Lauren stole your spot on the armchair so she could flirt with Tyler. You sigh sitting carefully on top of the desk.

* “You leave with one girl and come back with another, how do you do it?” Conner’s got a devilish grin as he leans in to ask you.

* You drink straight from the bottle.

* You’re going to play a drinking game, anytime any of these boys try’s to flirt with you you take a drink.

* “I’m really hot.” You say bluntly

* Conner and Mike laugh

* “Yeah-I mean, yeah you definitely are.” Mike stutters

* If you were human you would probably be nervous by this situation, you’re basically sitting on the desk between Mike and Conner. Mike is on the end of the sofa, and Conner is sitting next to you in the office chair.

* But now that you’re a vampire, you could kill both of these boys with a simple flick of your wrist

* “So what’s going on between you and Cullen really?” Mike asks and you remember the look on Edward’s face when he was talking to Bella.

* “Nothing, we’re just friends” even less than that at this point. You’re just someone who lives in his house

* you’re worried they’re going to press further on the issue and all the emotions you’ve kept sealed away will come out overflowing.

* But they don’t, maybe Conner senses somethings happened because instead he says:

* “So you would f*ck me huh?” You laugh

* “Oh my god are you still stuck on that?”

* “And you said you would marry me?” Mike is grinning so wide he’s actually grinning.

* “You guys are ridiculous.” You’re laughing so hard you cover your mouth.

* “Alright, out of the entire friend group, f*ck, marry, kill, who are your picks?” Conner leans a bit closer, you wonder if he’s been eating healthier lately, he doesn’t smell nearly as bad as he used to.

* It’s still pretty bad, but now there’s a sweeter herbal undertone

* “Hmmm you guys go first I have to think” you lightly shove Conner by the shoulder and he actually rolls back a bit.

* “Alright hmmm-“ he rubs his chin in mock thought “well marry you of course-“

* “Of course” you nod taking another swig of Vodka

* “F*ck Mike”

* “What?” Mike is genuinely flustered and you grin

* “It’s that golden retriever vibe he gives off right?” You say and Conner nods

* “Exactly! Also he looks like a good cuddler.”

* “Definitely a little spoon”

* “Definitely”

* Mike looks like he’s going to combust from the attention from how red his face is.

* “Kill.... I guess kill Edward, the less competition the better” Conner gives you a meaningful look

* Well you don’t know how to feel about that so you just take another swig of Vodka. The more you drink the easier it’ll come out later right?

* “Your turn Mike.”

* “Marry Bella-“

* “Of course” you and Conner say in unison, clinking your bottle to his glass after you do.

* “Fuck you, kill Edward”

* “Damn no love for Edward at all huh?” You say with a gasp of surprise.

* You’re a little annoyed he didn’t pick Jessica.

* You like Bella and all, and her shy bookworm thing is kinda cute, but Jessica is clearly the superior choice.

* “Don’t deflect now that it’s your turn.” Conner lightly bumps your knee against yours

* Wait when did he move from the chair and sit beside you on the desk?

* You roll your eyes and take another swig of vodka

* “Marry Jessica,” they both sputter at that, Conner actually spits out his drink mid gulp.

* Ew Gross.

* “Fuck Conner, Kill Mike.”

* Conner does a fist pump and Mike looks genuinely hurt.

* “I’m sorry Mike but it’s either marriage or kill, there’s no in between.”

* Mike pouts, before sitting up straighter

* “I bet I’m a better kisser than Conner.”

* You take a long drink of Vodka

* “No way dude, you and I both used to date Lauren and I don’t think she would have dated me again after you if you were a better kisser”

* “That was in middle school! I had braces back then!”

* “Yeah, that’s why you’re so bad at kissing.” Conner says matter of factly taking a sip of his Dad’s brandy straight from the decanter

* “No, I had to lea-“

* “Oh my god would you both shut up?” You shout and let out a huff of annoyance before reaching out and grabbing Mike by the collar of his shirt, tugging him forward

* Your lips meet his briefly, your eyes are closed, and his are open. He adjust to the situation quickly, cupping your cheek and tilting his head slightly

* Not bad

* You break away, turning to Conner, he’s a bit more ready than Mike. He cups your face with both hands, mouth parting slightly as one of his hands slides into your hair.

* You break away sweetly, with one last peck.

* “Conner’s better” you say the bottle of vodka already on your lips. Conner’s laughing while Mike protests.

* “What-no, I wasn’t ready, I want another chance!” You roll your eyes as he looks at you expectantly

* “Fin-“ he breaks you off with his lips, this time is better than the last. He’s standing, and the angle adds to the technique, his hand is on the back your neck, tilting your chin up with the other

* Oh wow.

* You’re a little dazzled when you break apart. Jessica is one lucky girl.

* “Wait if he gets another chance I want one too.” Conner protests, you just nod dumbly.

* That was a really good kiss. You feel all warm and fuzzy.

* Before you can think Conner wraps an arm around your waist tugging you close, he dips you back before kissing you. You open your mouth from the surprise and he takes the opportunity to sweep his tongue in.

* You’re seeing stars, and then abruptly you’re yanked by the shoulder.

* Oh does Mike want another turn?

* Without even opening your eyes you kiss the person who pulled on your shoulder.

* These lips feel different then Mike’s, almost-sticky? Or is it slippery? They smell different too like boiled broccoli-

* Oh shit

* You hesitantly open your eyes, only to see a very shocked Jessica

* “Oh my god” you pull back quickly, cupping your hand over your mouth so you don’t kiss anyone else by accident “I’m so sorry Jess- I didn’t-“

* Before you can finish someone tugs your arm, you vaguely understand what’s happening, one of your arms grasped by a very strong hand and your other carrying a bottle of vodka.

* It’s Edward, you recognize the blue collared shirt he’s wearing, you bought him that shirt last year for his birthday.

* “E-Edward? Wait where-“ you turn to the side to see Jessica who’s standing very still, your eyes briefly meet Bella’s and they flash with-hurt?

* What did you kiss her too when you weren’t paying attention?

* “H-hey Edward that hurts!” If he heard you he doesn’t seem to care, dragging you through the party and through the cluster of people all along the front yard

* You’re vaguely aware of the stares your way. You both must look pretty weird, or at least like a couple of kids dying to f*ck

* All you can see when you look straight forward is Edward’s back. His broad shoulders and the slender curve of his back.

* For some reason, the safest place you can imagine is the middle of Edward’s back. You bet it’s so warm and safe to be nestled there.

* You bet it’s the place Bella feels the most safe in

* A prickle of irritation burns in you. And in your impatience when Edward starts to slow you wrap your arms around his waist-

* “(Y/N), what are you-“ He grumbles, but you don’t pay it any mind, you nestle your head in his back, right below the spot between his shoulder blades. Breathing his scent in deeply.

* Edward always smells so good, like Argon oil and Rosemary

* You feel him sigh, his hand resting over yours that are intertwined on his stomach

* You stay like that for a moment, you’re not sure how long, it might have been hours

* But it feels too soon when Edward pulls away from you.

* The whine of protest that’s building in the back of your throat dies when you see his face

* “Hey, what’s wrong, why are you upset?” A hand lifts to cradle Edward’s face. His mouth is pinched into a frown and his eyes... they look so sad

* Your compassion only seems to irritate him further because he shakes your hand off of his face

* You’re a little hurt, and very confused

* “What were you doing in there?” You can tell from the way his voice trembles he’s barely contains his anger

* “We were playing a game” you say in a small voice. Edward gives out a bitter laugh

* “And what game was that, spin the bottle?”

* “Who’s the better kisser actually” you mumble, looking down at your shoes feeling a little embarrassed

* “You can’t even imagine the vile thoughts they were-“ he cuts himself off, averting his gaze from you

* You feel like a bucket of cold water got dumped on you

* They’re your friends. You were just having a good time. It was all just harmless fun wasn’t it?

* oh god you kissed Jessica! Jessica your best friend.

* How are supposed to face her now

* “Have you been drinking?” He asks, tugging the bottle hanging limply from between your fingers.

* It’s almost empty, less than a quarter left.

* “H-hey I didn’t drink all of that, Lauren drank quite a bit too, and I’m pretty sure it was already half empty when we got it.” Edward raises an eyebrow and you avert your eyes. You’ve going through too much to handle facing him head on.

* “(Y/N), what’s going on, this isn’t like you” He let’s out a long sigh.

* Why did you drink so much?

* Maybe if he wasn’t so wrapped up in that human he would realize-

* Realize what? Where was that sentence going?

* You remember seeing Edward and Bella talk, the smile he gave her-

* No you can’t think about that right now

* “Nothing’s going on,” he looks at you skeptically and you look back to the ground “I just-I just want you to be happy Eddie.”

* He scoffs

* “You have a funny way of showing it.” He’s about to move back but your hand reaches out to stop him, resting on his forearm

* “No I really want you to be happy Edward, and I see the way you look at her-“

* “What?”

* “And I want you to know that it’s okay!” Your eyes stay fixed on his chest, the pocket of his shirt. “I know everyone around us, including Carlisle, have been hoping we would end up together, but don’t worry about that. You can say it was me if you need to, and-“

* He stops you by placing both of his hand on your face, your eyes meeting his.

* “What are you talking about?”

* This time you’re the one that scoffs

* “Bella of course,” he lets out some noise of disbelief, a mix of a scoff and a snicker

* “Bella? You think I love Bella?” He’s laughing at you! The criminal is laughing at you!

* “Im not stupid Edward!”

* “When have I ever said I have feelings for Bella?”

* “You don’t have to! I see the way you look at her! Like just now-when you were up by the stairwell, you looked at her like she was the only person in the room.”

* He doesn’t scoff now and he averts his eyes. You feel your heart sink a little.

* It’s okay, this is for the best.

* Bella’s going to give him everything he wants.

* Even a baby.

* You can’t give him that.

* “Oh my god Bella! She probably has the totally wrong idea! We have to go back, we have to-“ you’re already moving when you feel Edward grasp your arm, holding you back.

* Your eyebrows thread together in confusion

* “Edward what are you doing? We have to-“

* “I don’t love Bella” he interrupts.

* You’re confused, and then you’re angry.

* Is he lying to you? Straight to your face after you’ve already told him you know everything? Why even bother? What is he trying to save his pride or something, because you’re 100% sure that Bella’s feeling it just as much as he is

* “You don’t need to lie to me Edward-“

* “I’m not lying!” He tugs you closer, the bottle of vodka falling to the ground with a clang.

* You’re caged in his arms, each of his hands is holding your by the elbow. His gold eyes look straight into yours

* “There’s only one person I’ve ever loved,” a gentle smile curls onto his mouth. “They’re impossibly stubborn, when they get an idea in their mind. And they have no sense of self preservation whatsoever.”

* This sounds like Bella. Is this a trick or something?

* His eyes get warm as he looks down at you, his lips twitching as his smile widens

* “But they’re also very compassionate, they’re someone with endless amounts of hope, and everything around them is so-different- so fun! They make me feel....”

* he’s been inching closer this entire time, your chest is practically pressed against his.

* “Human” he finishes with a grin

* His forehead presses against yours and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach.

* “I’m in love with you, (Y/N), it’s always been you.”

* Before you have time to process the bombshell Edward just dropped on you, Edward moves an inch closer and places his lips over your own.

* Your eyes are open at first, mostly from shock, but they drift close when Edward’s hand trails down the edge of you face, resting on your cheek.

* His kiss is so different from Mike and Conner’s kisses.

* Their kiss had been passionate, almost possessive.

* But Edward’s kiss- his kiss makes you feel safe.

* His hand rests on the small of your back, the other lightly touches the side of your face.

* It’s firm, but you know if you didn’t like his touch, if you wanted it to stop, you could end it anytime.

* He’s leaving you an escape

* He’s still your Edward, Your kind, considerate Edward.

* If you were human tears would prickle the corner of your eyes.

* Instead you stand on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him in even closer.

* You’re seeing stars when he finally pulls away, and in your daze you actually follow him, stealing one last peck.

* You stand tall, looking straight into his eyes, he’s got the biggest goofiest grin you’ve ever seen

* Even goofier than the one he had when you said you would move with him to Forks.

* “Um, so how was I compared to Mike and Connor?”

* You roll your eyes, he’s still trying to lighten the mood with dumb jokes

* You doubt he needs you to answer. He knows you loved it. He’s so happy he’s glowing. You feel almost feel dizzy looking at him.

* And there’s a million things you want to say to him, but you don’t say any of them.

* Instead you lean over and puke all over his shoes.

* “That bad huh?”

BONUS:

* “Was it just me, or were they like really cold?” Mike asks, his lips still feel a little numb

* “Yeah, but I kind of liked it, it’s like ice play.” Conner grins, and then spares a glance to his friend “How you doing over there Jess thinking of coming down anytime soon?”

* Jessica’s got the widest goofiest grin on her face, her fingers trailing her lips every so often.

* Bella sits beside her with her mouth pinched into a frown

* “It’s always the blonde’s that have all the fun” She mumbles

Tags: @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796 @moose-squirrel-asstiel @hotmessgoodness @jaimewho @corabmarie @what-am-i-doing10 @alluring-venus @imdoingathingmom

#twilight #twilight imagine #twilight saga #twilight headcanon #twiligh reader insert #edward cullen #edward cullen imagine #Edward Cullen x reader #bella swan #bella swan imagine #bella swan x reader #mike newton #mike newton x reader #conner twilight #cullen imagine #superhero--imagines #midnight sun

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taeescript · 3 years

Text

29 + 1 (Part Two)

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

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

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

𝔴𝔠: 7.6k

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

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

part one || part three

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

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

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

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

You tip the shot back with no chase.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do know – ”

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

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

You shake your head.

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

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

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

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

He shrugs. “Just Taehyung.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God help me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He offers you his water to drink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raise an eyebrow at his pet name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

Seokjin blinks to refocus.

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

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

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

Junho grumbles something intelligible.

“What did you say?”

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

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

“It’s been going...”

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

10:17pm “Safe and sound, Teddy Bear.”

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

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

10:18pm “Real good**”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seokjin’s phone buzzes again.

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

A moment of silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s my best friend.”

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

A sigh. “Are you free next weekend?”

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

He senses your trepidation. Quickly, he explains himself,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

“You suck at metaphors.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please stop reminding me.”

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

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

“Um… I, uh…”

“What?”

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

“I’ve got plans tonight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry again,” you apologize.

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seokjin rolls his eyes and pulls you along with him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smiling, you type in your response.

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

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

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

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

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

12:24am “First name basis 🙃”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you a secret alcoholic?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Charlotte Dior Laurent,” you correct him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see what they have at the bar.”

...

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

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

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

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

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

He smirks from the spot.

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

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

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

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

“It’s still a stupid last name.”

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

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

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

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

You readjust your positioning following his instructions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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pain-in-the-butler · 3 years

Text

The time has come once again

The Bloodbath

“I’m simply one hell of a butler” says Sebastian as he starts cleaning as usual

Okay so Agni’s taking no prisoners

Work Nerd, Science Nerd, and Jock Nerd team up to form the Nerd Trifecta

Team One Brain Cell joins up with Phipps, who is quite possibly their only chance for survival

Ran-Mao remembers how Harcourt beat everyone in the unfortunately deleted round and said “Not in my backyard”

So far, everyone else has simply run away unscathed or grabbed a weapon they won’t use because the game doesn’t record weapons. Rip Tanaka

Day 1

Ran-Mao bringing the canon energy by adding a second weapon to her arsenal

Phipps somehow always turns into Team Dad during these, so I’m glad to see he’s finding time for his favorite hobbies

Undertaker up to his usual Sneaky Antics

It hasn’t even been twelve hours yet. Kind of impressive honestly

Considering Harcourt lost his mace, I’ll just assume the attack Grell “escaped” from was the vicious stabbing of his trim little schoolboy fingernails

Bad vibes

It appears that Lau also brought his canon game

Sebastian in the most recent chapters be like

I’ve actually never had this event come up before and it has to happen between two of the more innocent characters in the series;;;; god Lizzie you deserve better even in the Hunger Games Simulator

Where’s a Safety Nerd when you need one

What’s better than this? Guys bein dudes

This is probably what happened after Ciel left Weston

Sebastian will take care of this for ya, huh bud

Other events:

Agni practices his archery

Wolfram goes fishing

Othello finds a cave

Soma goes ‘splorin

Edward goes huntin

Day 1′s Deaths: Tanaka, Sieglinde, Lizzie, and Macmillan. Someday one of the ladies will win

Night 1

Butler slumber party in the woods, BYOYM (bring your own young master)

It takes a lot of energy to be this blond

I’m happy for her :)

Yeah I’ll bet you probably do Lau

A tonal shift so abrupt I got mental whiplash

Can we go back to when Grell was looking at the sky pls

Thought about science too hard. Got a concussion

Thought about Ciel dying too hard. Got an infection

Aww dad :( Hope you caught some fish tho

Looks like Harcourt won’t be winning this one, gang

I stg the hunger games simulator is misogynist because the ladies always DIE /j

Ran-Mao is hopefully here to prove the previous statement wrong

Other events:

Bard gets a hatchet

Undertaker also passes out from exhaustion

R!Ciel goes to sleep in a tree

Day 2

Oh you five are SO going in my burn book for this. It’s what Grell would’ve wanted

Ahaha just like in the real manga... right guys (;

Idk about you but I’m rooting for her

I don’t think the simulator could’ve picked four people who were less likely to team up than this

I would too if I saw my best friend was palling around with an opium dealer, a grim reaper with a lawn mower, and another grim reaper that the first grim reaper doesn’t like

Other events:

Othello chases Wolfram

That’s the only other event actually

That means today we lost O!Ciel, Mey-Rin, Harcourt, and Grell. ffs, I hope Ran-Mao kills all of you

Night 2

I’ve missed you, rare pair simulator

The “unknown sponsor” was Undertaker and the “fresh food” was O!Ciel

Confirmed: Lau doesn’t get high off his own supply

Once again a ceasefire between the strong hungry boys is formed

Girl, you don’t have to do that

“Did you kill Ciel?” Sebastian asks

“No that was William,” Othello says

Sebastian punches a tree so hard that it combusts. “God damn. Fuck” Sebastian says

Wolfram just realized I put him in the Hunger Games simulator

Other events:

Phipps thinks about “Are you winning son”

Undertaker gazes at space

Ronald becomes Lost Ronald

Soma passes out

Bard gets some water

Day 3

Damn Agni who haven’t you flirted with

Finny sees that Bard has water and thinks Bard cooked it himself, so he wants no part of that (might be burnt)

What did he even have that was worth stealing? A fish?

Well I can tell you who isn’t creating that smoke: Lau

“What’s worse than two young masters? No young masters. Now get over here and make a contract”

Everything about this sentence is a fever dream

Other events:

Undertaker decides he wants a slingy shot too

Edward chases Dad I mean Phipps

Othello gets some ouchies from picking berries

Night 3

When your young master dies, you just get an infection apparently

damn Finny’s playing hardball

I don’t think anything bad has actually happened to Bard yet. It’s just been a grand frolic the whole time

I barely remember reading the first Hunger Games but Ran-Mao’s the Foxface of this journey: she deserves to win and I just know she’ll die in the stupidest way possible

Sebastian’s like a cat that can’t reach the bird it wants to attack, so it attacks the nearest other thing instead. Poor Dad

Two white-haired anime boys and a not-white-haired anime boy talk about who will die tomorrow. Anime doesn’t exist yet so the white-haired anime boys don’t know their hair color automatically spells their doom

Other events:

Edward starts a fire, which means he’s capable of smoking opium

Ronald gets some medical supplies

Othello gets a hatchet

R!Ciel thinks about winning

Lau gets an entire explosive, but he won’t be able to light it, so no it’s no big deal

Day 4

In Soviet Hunger Games, white-haired anime boy kills you

But why murder someone when you could just mess with them

Other events:

Grey scares Bard

Finny goes hunting

Night 4

Have you four even killed anyone yet

The list of “people who didn’t start the manor fire and also don’t smoke opium” now consists of Lau and R!Ciel

The mood is too light now. Someone needs to die and it better not be Ran-Mao

At last, Father Phipps has chosen his son for this round

Agni gushes about all the hot guys he’s simultaneously in love with, giving Ran-Mao a clearer idea of who’s still alive

Day 5

Girl, it’s about time, go claim some trophies

Finny’s easily got the longest kill streak and it’s a little unnerving

Father Phipps finds a new secret fishing hole

Othello doesn’t

Lau continues to put in all the efforts of a kindergarten bully

Oh no. He’s a yandere

Other events:

Sebastian fucks around and explores the arena

Bard fucks around and hunts for tributes

Undertaker fucks around and sleeps

R!Ciel fucks around and picks flowers

Night 5

I’ve never met anyone who ships Sebastian/Undertaker but I know you’re out there

Okay, maybe these four are even less likely to team up than Phipps, Ronald, Undertaker, and Lau

Edward sees I’m making jokes about people who build fires and stays hidden

Day 6

Canonically, that is the only way R!Ciel would win a fight, so

I probably could have predicted this

I hope these are the faces they made when it happened

The “unknown sponsor” is R!Ciel and the “fresh food” is an ear that fell off his own head

I’m not sure if I should be concerned or unsurprised that Bard’s Hunger Games life is more chill than his canon life

the “unknown sponsor” was the fish and the “clean water” was “fish water”

Other events:

Ran-Mao gets her third weapon that she doesn’t want to use, which is a hatchet

Finny finds a river

Agni practices archery again, but he doesn’t kill anyone because he wants this to go on forever

Night 6

Ran-Mao I beg you please. Release us from this purgatory of mediocrity

And suddenly we’re back to canon Bard

I guess not everything can be canon

Other events:

Both Agni and Phipps pass out from exhaustion. It’s 2:50 a.m. so I should really be taking a page from their book, but unfortunately everyone refuses to die

The Feast

Finny has been a stone cold killer this entire match, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the girl I wanted to win would get eliminated by him, but it still hurts ✌️😔

If you cheat on Othello, he will overpower you, killing you

Everyone else decided not to go to the Feast. Honestly, I don’t remember what the Feast is, but everyone who did go either murdered someone or got murdered, so I guess that was probably a good call

Day 7

I’ve had enough of this dude

Jesus Finny I can’t wait to see how many kills you got, I feel like you and Agni were the only two who took anyone down

Bard, Undertaker, Sebastian, and Phipps all hunt for other tributes but they’re useless and don’t kill anyone

Arena Event: Volcano Eruption

In one fell swoop, we lose Sebastian, Undertaker, R!Ciel, and Finny, jeez. But... that means it comes down to.............

FATHER PHIPPS VS. BARD

FATHER PHIPPS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wow... Unlike his manga counterpart, this boy coasted the whole time and won... He basically went on vacation and he actually won... But then again, it’s Hunger Games Simulator and nothing is sacred

Well I hope you learned a valuable lesson today. I hope you did at some point before you read my post, because you sure as hell learned nothing from this. Thank you for wasting precious minutes of your life with me 😏

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji hunger games simulator

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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

Text

Leave Your Boots By The Bed (SPN x BtVS)

Sam Winchester x Faith Lehane

Word Count: 7350

Warnings: It’s smutty! Samhandling, the jockey is MJ’s favorite sex position, lots of discussions of trust and consent, unprotected sex, rimming, spanking, hair pulling, and dom/sub themes. Wee bit o’ feelings but in a nice way with a happy ending. Mostly just a whole bunch of marathon, athletic, probably-not-OSHA-compliant banging.

A/N: This is the Sam/Faith side-quest (idk what else to call it) to Big Damn Heroes, but you don’t really need to read that to understand this. You can also read just the scene where these two meet over here.

This is my entry for @idabbleincrazy and her “What Do You Mean This Is Classic Rock?” Challenge! My prompt was “Girl All The Bad Guys Want,” by Bowling For Soup, which 100% gave me Faith vibes. It’s quoted/referenced a couple times in the story.

It’s also my (second) entry for @stusbunker’s Jam Basket fic exchange. This one’s for @thoughtslikeaminefield, who deserves the world on a silver platter. I cannot give her that, so instead I offer Faith smut. Thanks to @mskathywriteswords for prodding and lotion-related reality checks, and to @fangirlxwritesx67 for the read-throughs and for reassuring me that if I ever write Sam smut without a little psychoanalysis thrown in, she will worry about me.

Title from the Jason Isbell song “Cover Me Up,” which I listened to on repeat while writing certain chunks of this.

“What’s so funny?” Faith asks, looking at him sideways as they walk.

“I just told you I come from another universe and your response is ‘cool.’”

“Am I supposed to be impressed? I like it this way. No chance of you gettin’ all clingy.”

Sam laughs. “Fair enough.”

“Monsters, huh? You ever staked a vamp before?”

“Stakes don’t kill ‘em in my world. But… beheaded a few,” Sam says mildly.

“Yeah?” Her eyes sparkle. “So if we take the shortcut through the graveyard, you’re not gonna slow me down or get yourself killed?”

He gives her an unimpressed look. “What do you think?”

“Let’s go, then,” she challenges, pointing to the cemetery gate up ahead. “Bet I can dust more before we get to the other side.”

“You’re on.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Heads up,” Faith shouts, and tosses him a stake. Sam whirls and punches it through the thing’s ribcage, sending dust swirling just in time to turn and watch Faith launch herself at another vamp.

“Is this where you take all your dates?” Sam wonders out loud, a little bit enthralled by the cocky grin on her face as she sends the vamp stumbling with one of those showy spin-kicks.

“This is not a date,” she snaps, between solid punches. The last hit decks the vamp, and she stakes him before he can hit the ground. She struts toward Sam, brushing dust from her skintight jeans with a Cheshire cat smile. “I like my job. Fuckin’ sue me.”

“Not complaining,” Sam says, sincerely. “Hottest thing I’ve seen in ages.”

She looks up at him suspiciously, like she thinks he’s making fun of her, and Sam lets her see the heat in his eyes. The grin is back, and she’s grabbing him by the lapels and rocking onto her tiptoes, swaying into him with a little sigh and a lot of confidence. Sam slides both hands into her hair and ducks down to kiss her, sucking on her lower lip and tasting waxy red.

Breathtakingly competent and moderately bitchy has always sorta been his type.

“We had a bet,” he points out, before crushing his mouth to hers again. She makes a sound like a purr and wrenches herself away, grabbing him by the wrist and making a beeline for the path.

“I’m gonna say we both won here,” she says decisively. “Let’s go.”

* * * * * * * * * *

She grabs him the second the lock slides into place, backing him against the door, already tugging at his belt. He yanks her jacket off her shoulders and she lets it fall, and then he grabs her by the belt loops, reeling her in until she’s pressed against him, hips flush to his as he slouches against the door. He bends to mouth at the long smooth line of her throat.

“Talk to me,” he says, nipping at her earlobe. She shivers.

“Fuck that,” she says hoarsely. “Didn’t bring you here to talk.”

“Don’t worry, I can multitask.” Sam nibbles at the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, working delicate skin between his teeth, and pops the button of her jeans. He slides a hand down, teasing her clit with his fingertips, and repeats: “Tell me what you like.”

“I like a lot less conversation and a whole lot more nudity,” Faith tosses back, but her voice is ragged, and she tilts her head to the side, baring her neck for his teeth. “I don’t fuckin’ know, dude, are we doing this or not?”

He bends just enough to scoop her up, and she goes with it, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as he cups her ass with both hands. When he turns them around, slamming her back against the door and rolling his hips, Faith lets out a breathy sound of surprise.

He drags his open mouth up the side of her throat and repeats, “Talk to me.”

She pulls him up by the hair, forcing his head back, rough and perfect, and Sam moans against her lips as she kisses him. It’s more like a bite, all teeth and heat.

“Bedroom’s that way,” she says huskily.

She’s so strong, rock-solid where she’s wrapped around him, that it’s barely an effort to carry her through the small, spare living space. She’s got her hands in his hair and her teeth scraping his collarbone, and Sam grits his teeth against the sting as he kicks the door shut behind them.

“Get your fuckin’ clothes off already,” she rasps, tugging at his flannel, and he strips both his shirts off obligingly, leaning back against the wall to balance as he discards them without putting Faith down.

She lets go of his neck to help him, holding herself up with no support other than her abs and her thighs. Sam’s just as turned on by that casual display of strength as by the sight of bare skin — no bra — when she peels her tank top off. He hoists her a little higher, until he can flick his tongue over one hard pink nipple. He blows a stream of cool air over the sensitive skin and she shivers, thighs squeezing his sides as she arches her back.

“What do you want?” Sam whispers, and laves his tongue over the other nipple.

“Fuck, anything, you’re killin’ me here.”

“Anything?” He scrapes pebbled skin with his teeth, savoring the way she squirms.

“Want you naked. Now.” She twists out of his grasp like a cat, sliding down his front and landing gracefully on her feet. Gracefully but loudly, that is; she crouches to deal with her big chunky boots, and Sam toes off his own.

He grins down at her as she tugs on his belt, admiring the way her mouth looks: bright red from his teeth, now, with the last smudges of lipstick smeared down her chin.

Sam bats her hands away from his zipper. He picks her up before she can argue and tosses her bodily onto the bed, and she bounces on the mattress, her hair spilling across the sheet like a dark glossy halo. She lifts her hips to get her jeans off, her torso bowing up in a long elegant curve.

Neither of them hide the way they check each other out when the clothes are finally out of the way. Sam kneels on the bed, looking down at her, and she bites her lip, tracking the movement of his hand as he strokes himself lazily.

“Is this what you want?” he asks. “Ask for it.”

Her eyes sparkle, mischievous and defiant, and she moves so fast that Sam’s taken by surprise when she grabs him — he can’t remember the last time that happened to him, let alone in bed. She pulls him down on top of her and rolls them over, switching their positions, and Sam laughs breathlessly as she pins his wrists to the pillow on either side of his head.

“I don’t like takin’ orders,” she says smugly.

“Is that true?” Sam counters. “Or have you just never met anybody who knows how to give orders?”

She looks startled by that, but instead of responding, she straddles him — sinks down on him wet and tight and perfect — and Sam has to grit his teeth and close his eyes for a moment, adjusting to all that sudden slippery heat around him.

There’s a gratifyingly breathless note in her voice when she says, “Does it matter? Point is, I can take care of myself.”

She’s not fucking kidding about that part.

She arches into a spectacular back-bend, supporting herself with one hand and zero visible effort. Her other hand is between her legs, rubbing her clit hard and fast as she bucks her hips up in little jerky rocking movements — and there’s an image that will (hopefully) be seared into Sam’s memory until the day he dies. For a moment all he can do is watch and try to memorize it. Then he presses the heel of his hand into her lower belly, grinding into her as best he can, and she clenches around him, soaking and squeezing in pulses so intense it almost hurts as she comes with a rough, husky moan.

“This is gonna be fun,” Sam breathes, and he tugs her upright for one searing kiss before flipping her onto her stomach.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Sam offers to wash her hair, she reacts like he just proposed marriage, except instead of an engagement ring, he’d offered her a grenade pin — shock, disbelief, and more than a little fear.

“Please tell me this is a kinky thing,” she says warily, and Sam laughs, tilting his head back in the spray and sluicing water from his face with both hands. When he looks down at her again, she’s still got her lip curled and her defenses up.

“It’s not a kinky thing,” he says, rolling his eyes.

She can’t get far in the shower stall, but she turns her back to him, and Sam’s forcibly reminded of a cat, licking her paws dry after accidentally stepping in a puddle.

“I can wash my own damn hair. Shit, don’t get all touchy-feely on me.”

Sam’s had a lifetime of practice at remaining earnest in the face of someone who’s determined to pretend they don’t want his kindness. He knows better than to give up that easily.

“Come here,” he says, smoothing his hands up her sides. She doesn’t relax, exactly, but she doesn’t shy away. “Faith. Different universe, remember? Not a romantic thing. I just want to touch you.”

She takes a reluctant half-step back, settling against him without a word.

Sam squirts a dollop of shampoo into his palm, tilting her chin up so that her head falls back, and he massages her scalp with his fingertips, rubbing in firm circles.

“Keep your eyes closed for me,” he tells her quietly, maneuvering her into the spray, but he shields her face carefully with one hand as he starts to rinse the lather out, making sure the bubbles don’t go anywhere near the fan of her spiky-wet lashes. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” she croaks, barely audible under the sound of the water. “S’ not so bad.”

“Speaking of kinky things,” he says casually. “We should talk about that.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you like? What’s your safeword?”

“Safeword?” She snorts, dismissive. “What, you really think you could dish out somethin’ I couldn’t take?”

Sam clenches his jaw. He’s glad her back is to him so she can’t see the expression on his face right now.

There are no more bubbles in her hair, but he keeps running his hands through it, just to have something to do as he figures out how to say this.

“I don’t think there’s much you couldn’t take,” he tells her softly. “I think you might be the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”

“Damn straight,” she mutters, mollified.

Sam squeezes out some conditioner, finger-combing it through her hair.

“You don’t trust me,” he says. It’s not a question.

“Fuck no,” she replies promptly. “Why would I? Trust is something you gotta earn.”

Sam’s mouth twists into a smile. “Fair enough. But… it’s not about seeing how much you can take. It’s about you trusting me to stop, no questions asked, if you say that word. You want me to take control, I’ll do it. Believe me, I’m down. But not until you trust me. If you think you can do that, all you gotta do is ask. Okay?”

She takes a breath like she wants to say something, but she seems to think better of it. She lets out a sigh, looking at him — through him — and all he gets is a subdued, “Yeah, okay.”

Sam tilts her head back gently again, working his fingers through her hair until the little crease of a frown fades from her forehead. He turns her in his arms, cradling her against his chest, and she lets him, resting her cheek over his heart.

“Poughkeepsie.”

“Gesundheit.”

“Cute. It’s a city where I — I was in over my head, one time, and I needed help. That’s my safeword.”

She pulls back, looking up at him, confusion written all over her face. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I trust you.”

“Really?”

Sam shrugs. “If somebody offered you a lot of money to kill me, I’d sure as fuck be watching my back. But… as far as respecting boundaries? Here and now, just you and me? Yeah, I trust you completely.”

Faith stares, scanning his expression for a hint of a lie, but when she doesn’t find one, her eyes soften. Her lips curl briefly into a pleased little smile.

“Didn’t really take you for the submissive type.”

“I’m not.”

She cocks her head thoughtfully, gaze calculating, and prods, “Go on, then. You’re the one who wants to talk about everything.”

“No bodily fluids.”

“With you on that one. There’s good freaky fun and then there’s just freaky. What else? Bet you’d look real pretty tied to my bed.”

“No chains. Ropes, cuffs, that’s fine — no chains. Um.. pain isn’t a big deal. I’d rather you didn’t draw blood, but… as far as pain goes, don’t worry about pushing too far.”

“Tryna be a tough guy?”

“No. Just telling you the facts. Temperature play is a hard limit. Ice, especially.”

“Okay. So… if I wanted to blindfold you, tie you up, and ride your face for a while…”

“Works for me.” She gets out of the shower without another word, grabbing a towel, all business, and he laughs. “Somebody’s in a hurry.”

“You’ve got like sixty seconds before the hot water runs out and it gets all end-of-Titanic in there.” She flashes him a grin. “Also, yeah. Let’s go.”

* * * * * * * * * *

She pretends she’s asleep, for a while, but then she slips out of bed, and her bare feet don’t make a sound as she navigates the apartment in the dark. He hears the toilet flush, water run, then the creak of… something.

He gives her a minute to herself before he gets up, just as silent as she was, and follows the smell of smoke to the open window. She’s leaning on the sill, silhouetted by the filtered yellow light of street lamps, and when she takes a drag the orange ember flares in the dark.

“Jesus, fuckin’ scared the shit outta me,” she snaps. The Boston in her voice comes out strong when she’s startled. When she offers him the last bit of the cigarette he takes it, grabbing her wrist with the other hand, and throws it out the window as he pulls her close.

“Hey, I was smokin’ that,” she protests, voice crackly like there’s a popping fire down in her chest.

Sam traces the curve of her cheek. He brushes one curled knuckle back and forth over her lower lip and then drags the pad of his thumb over the pillow of it, watching the soft give as he presses down. Her tongue darts out to flicker over his thumb, but otherwise, she’s motionless.

Faith takes his wrist, holding his hand to her mouth, and swirls her tongue over the pad of his thumb. Then she slides his index and middle fingers into her mouth, sucking on them shamelessly. They slide from her lips with a wet pop. A bolt of heat thuds through Sam’s gut — he’s only human.

“I like your hands,” she purrs, with one last suggestive lick.

“Something in particular you want me to do with them?” he asks.

She hesitates and presses a kiss to the center of his palm before answering: “I bet you have some ideas.”

“Tell me what you want, Faith.”

For a second there’s a deer-in-headlights vulnerability in her huge dark eyes, and she can’t hide the slight frown that flickers across her face.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” she whispers. She’s still holding his wrist. Sam twists to lace his fingers through hers instead, letting their joined hands drop palm-to-palm.

“Because sex isn’t fun for me unless everybody’s getting what they want. Call me crazy, but…”

“I brought you here, didn’t I? You know I want it. That’d be good enough, for most guys. Believe me, if you do somethin’ I don’t like, I’ll tell you about it.”

Sam closes his eyes, thinking of a half-dozen possible answers to that question. He considers telling her about Meg and Gadreel and all the other things that have slithered in over the years and used his body without his permission. He feels a phantom pain in his palm and remembers Lucifer’s taunt — you let me in — and he considers telling her about why he can’t stand the feel of ice or the rattle of chains.

He settles for the most fundamental answer: “Because you deserve to get what you want. You deserve better than ‘good enough.’”

She digests that silently for a moment, and then she guides his hand firmly to her hip, before grabbing the other and placing it flat on her breastbone.

“Just… touch me?” she asks, and Sam smiles, shifting closer, running his hands over her skin: fingertips in the dip of her throat, thumb stroking her collarbone, palm sweeping up and down her side, gentle and deliberately innocent.

“Why does it bother you so much when I ask?” he says softly.

She grimaces, and for a second it looks like she’ll brush it off, make a joke of it.

“Not used to it, I guess. Most guys don’t ask. I think guys look at me, they make some assumptions, you know?”

“Such as?”

She shrugs. “Guess they figure I’m down for anything.”

“Faith.”

“Don’t. Anyway, it’s more than that. Most people, they only offer to give you something if they want something in return.”

“What do you think I want from you?”

“That’s what’s got me spun out. Figured you just wanted a great lay, but… you’re still here.” She drops her gaze. “Bein’ all sweet and shit.”

Sam tries to hide his smile. “Should I not be?”

“Can’t figure you out,” Faith mumbles. “You’re different.”

Sam thinks about that for a moment as he folds to his knees in front of her. He drags his mouth down the center of her chest, tasting salt, and nips at the soft skin under her belly-button.

“How do you mean?” He looks up at her again, holding eye contact as he traces her hipbone with his tongue.

“I’m not the kinda chick that sweet guys usually go for, you know?” She slides her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and Sam hums his approval. “The nice ones know better. I’m the girl all the bad guys want.”

“That seems a bit reductive, don’t you think?”

“See, shit like that. Your mouth’s an inch away from my pussy and you’re using words like reductive.”

“I just want you. All of you, not just the ‘nice’ parts or the shit you show most guys.”

“Might not be saying that if — oh. Do that again.”

“Faith, trust me when I say that whatever you’ve done, I’ve done worse.”

“Jesus, can we talk about this later?”

“What do you want?”

“Want you to get your ass back in bed and quit teasing, for starters.”

“I can do that.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“The fuck did you find in the fridge?” Faith asks hoarsely.

“Beer and pickles,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with a grin.

She’s leaning against the frame of the bedroom door, wearing his flannel and nothing else. It’s open, baring a long slice of pale skin, from the dip between her breasts and down her stomach to a neat trail of dark hair. She looks like a centerfold, but rumpled and sleepy-eyed and real, human, in a way that makes it so much hotter.

“You went out.” She frowns at the front door.

“Are you surprised I came back?”

“Honestly? Not really.” Sam hides his smile at that answer. “Except that door’s supposed to lock automatically.”

“It does. I picked the lock.”

“Anything you can’t do?” Faith comes over and hoists herself up onto the counter next to him, eyeing the pan of bacon eagerly.

“Never been good at walking in heels.” Sam passes her the extra large to-go cup of dark roast he’d gotten her from the local coffee place, and she grins.

“Shit, you really know how to spoil a girl.”

Sam puts a hand on her bare thigh, thumb running back and forth idly as he takes her in, tracing the shape of her body with his eyes. She gives him a raised eyebrow and sips her coffee quietly. There’s none of the wariness or put-on swagger from last night. She just seems comfortable.

“No bruises,” he says, hand sliding up higher, finding nothing but unblemished skin where he knows he left marks. Every imprint of Sam’s teeth and hands and hipbones has melted away.

“Slayer healing.” She leans back on her palms, inviting him to touch more. Sam pulls his hand away — pancakes to flip — but he smirks.

“That’s a shame. They looked good on you.”

Faith’s eyes go dark. “Yeah?”

“I’ll just have to leave some more… later. Breakfast is ready.”

Faith eats with an indecent enthusiasm that reminds him of Dean, but somehow that doesn’t surprise him. Which… speaking of Dean — Sam borrows her cell as they’re finishing breakfast, because apparently other universes aren’t included in his roaming service, and a sleepy female voice picks up.

“Faith?”

“Sam, actually. Is my brother around?”

“Sam? Did you… you and Faith?” Buffy’s voice goes a little squeaky at the end. Then there’s indistinct scuffling.

Faith swipes her index finger through the maple syrup that’s left on her plate, sucking it clean, hollowing her cheeks in a way that’s pretty fucking distracting.

“Sammy?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Hey. You didn’t even notice I was gone, did you?”

“Where are you? Who’s Faith?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam says. “Did Charlie fix the thing?”

“Uh, hang on.” There’s a muffled conversation on the other line.

Faith gets up, walking around the table to pick up Sam’s plate, her movements slinky and deliberate, her hips swaying, showing off tantalizing glimpses of skin as his flannel skims the curves of her body. He twists around to watch her go. Faith sets both plates in the sink and stretches, and the flannel rides up her thighs.

“Pretty sure Charlie’s not awake yet either,” Dean says. “Late nights all around. Go team. Should we save you some breakfast?”

“No, I’m busy.”

Dean is saying something, but Sam’s not really paying attention. Faith is leaning on the table, bent at the waist, the flannel riding up to expose the lower curve of her ass. Sam turns in his chair to raise an eyebrow at her, pointedly adjusting himself in his jeans. She smirks like the cat who got the cream.

“Just call this number when you need me, Dean,” Sam says abruptly, cutting him off. “See you later.” He hangs up before Dean can get a protest in.

She bats her eyelashes, sugary-sweet. “Sorry, did I distract you?”

“Don’t lie. You’re not sorry at all.” Sam shakes his head, mock-scolding, and gives her a light tap, mostly to watch the way her flesh jiggles just right under his hand.

She grins, wiggling her hips and spreading her legs a little wider. “If you’re gonna do it, do it like you mean it.”

There’s a long, weighted pause.

“Are you asking me for —”

“Fuck yes I am.”

“Faith…”

She’s quiet but sincere when she says, “I trust you.”

Sam exhales sharply, and because she looks nervous, now, he quips, “Should’ve known bacon would do the trick.” She laughs at that and relaxes, so he stands up slowly and asks, “Safeword?”

“Dorchester.”

Sam smiles — equal parts amused by the word choice and touched by the trust. He runs a hand down her back and then up again, taking the soft fabric with him, rucking it up. He takes his time, drawing it out to watch the way she pouts, positioning himself behind her and flattening a palm between her shoulderblades to push her down. She braces herself on her forearms.

“Good girl.”

“Well?”

“Be patient.”

“Fucking hit me already,” she says sulkily.

“You can have anything you want,” he promises her, and he grabs a handful of hair, yanking her head back. “You just have to ask for it. Politely.”

He hears the way she sucks in a breath, ragged and desperate, and he smiles.

“Please spank me. Hard.”

“Good girl,” he repeats. He steps back and squeezes before smacking her, nowhere near hard enough to hurt.

“C’mon, is that the best you’ve got?” she teases, laughing.

“You know it’s not.” He brings his hand down with a satisfying sound, and Faith groans.

“Harder,” she grits out.

The next one makes her cry out, ragged and ecstatic. He hits her again, hard enough that his palm smarts, wrist snapping precisely so that the blows are spaced just right across her ass and her upper thighs.

By the time he pauses again she’s panting harshly. He takes a second to admire her, the pretty shade of red blossoming on her pale skin and the way she’s arching her back, putting herself on display for him.

“Fuck, you look good like this.” He kicks her feet farther apart and traces up her center with two callused fingertips. “So wet already, aren’t you?”

She tries to push back into it, to fuck herself on his fingers as she whimpers, “More?”

He lets loose, brings his palm down with a vicious crack, and he can see the way her legs start to shake.

“Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me?” He leans forward, grinding against her, letting her feel how hard he is through his jeans, and when he pulls back again she moans. Her skin is hot to the touch. He runs his fingers over it teasingly before sliding two fingers into her cunt, curling them, pumping and twisting as Faith curses and clenches around him.

“Need you,” she pants. “More.”

“Let me hear you,” he says. He pulls his fingers out and spanks her again, and she shudders, head bowed, pussy glistening wet.

“Please fuck me,” she breathes. He’s reaching for his belt before she gets the word out.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He rubs the head of his cock through her slickness, teasing, and when she tries to push back, his shaft slides between her lips, dragging along her clit. He bites back a groan and plants his left hand solidly at the base of her neck, forcing her to drop down with her cheek to the table, holding her in place.

“Shit,” she snaps. “Fuckin’ give it to me.”

“What did I say?”

“Want to feel that big thick cock, please,” she says. He can hear the wicked edge in her voice. “Want to feel you fillin’ me up when I come. Just fucking wreck me, Sam. Hold me down and make me scream… please.” She pauses and then asks smugly, “Fuckin’ polite enough for you?”

She could recite a grocery list in that ragged, raspy voice and it’d probably turn him on, at this point; as it is, he feels dizzy from sudden lack of bloodflow to his brain.

“We gotta work on those manners,” he says softly, and pushes into her, just a couple inches, before sliding out again. She whines.

He does it over and over again — one torturously shallow thrust after another — working her open with little rocking motions that are nowhere near enough. She whimpers, and he watches, clocking every shudder that runs up her spine, every involuntary quiver as he fucks into her a little deeper, slick spreading up the flushed-dark length of his cock with each stroke.

It takes every last shred of his self-control, but he forces himself to move slowly, deliberately, until she’s dripping wet and slamming her fists into the table.

Finally, she caves, sobbing two syllables like they’re the only words she remembers: “Please — Sam — please — Sam — please —”

“That’s better,” he sighs, and grabs her by the hips, shifting until he finds the spot that makes her twitch and squirm. She quakes when he hits it dead-on, and he sets an unrelenting pace, fucking her so hard the table hammers against the wall, a rapid-fire counterpoint to her broken, drawn-out cries.

Faith bucks helplessly as she comes, and Sam lets go a split-second later, half collapsing forward as he grinds into her one last time. He braces himself with both palms flat on the wood, and his knees threaten to give out.

His first coherent thought is amazement that the table is still standing, and while he’s trying to remember how to speak, Faith mumbles, “Shit, can’t believe we haven’t broken any furniture yet.” Sam laughs so unexpectedly he almost chokes, and maybe it’s contagious, because Faith starts giggling too.

Sam maneuvers them onto one of the chairs in a messy pretzel of sweat and skin and half-discarded clothes. A surge of pure giddy affection swells in his ribcage, and he wraps his arms around her, squeezing tight, tickling her with his stubble against her neck until she shrieks and twists.

Faith turns her head at an awkward angle to kiss him. Then she mumbles, “Is there more bacon? I could go for more bacon.”

“Anything you want.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Faith stretches extravagantly as she gets up from the opposite end of the couch, and his flannel slips off her shoulders. She lets it fall as she pads over to the fridge.

“Have I mentioned today how good you look naked?” Sam asks.

She pulls two bottles of beer from the fridge and strikes a goofy, mock-sexy pose. “No, but go right ahead.”

“You look really fucking good naked.”

“Not so bad yourself.” She passes him a bottle and sprawls out with her legs draped across his lap. “Why’d you put your clothes back on, anyway?”

“Hot bacon grease and nudity isn’t a good combo. Trust me.”

“Sounds like the voice of experience talking there.”

“Not personal experience,” Sam says with a smirk. “Dean, though…”

She laughs. He tosses the last bite of bacon at her, and she catches it in her mouth.

“Not cooking any more though, are you?” she asks archly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He obliges, though, stripping unceremoniously, and Faith catcalls. She crawls into his lap when he sits back down, leaning in for a kiss that tastes like beer.

“Much better,” she says quietly, pressing her forehead to his.

“Really thought I might’ve tired you out there.”

“Honestly? Yeah, I need a minute,” she confesses, with a laugh. “Just wanted some eye candy.”

“At your service.”

She settles a little more comfortably in his lap, straddling him, and they exchange slow, lazy kisses. Sam can’t bring himself to stop kissing her. Her lips are soft and plush, and every brush of her tongue and nip of her teeth feels like a luxury, like something he should treasure, because he knows this intimacy has an expiration date.

They stare at each other for a long moment, sweet and almost shy.

Sam offers, “Want to watch a soap opera on mute and make up our own dialogue?”

Her dimples really show when she’s surprised to find herself smiling. She grabs their beers and the remote from the milk crate that serves as her coffee table, raising her bottle in a toast, and then she curls up at Sam’s side, naked and soft and bruised. She fits under his arm like she was meant to be there.

It’s the happiest Sam can remember being in a long time.

Normal, he thinks. This is what normal people do — breakfast and kisses on the couch — tenderness and softness and quiet everyday vulnerability.

Then again, neither of them are normal, not really. Maybe that’s why Sam feels so comfortable with her.

* * * * * * * * * *

This time, she passes him the shampoo without a word, sighing as he cradles the back of her skull with one hand and smooths the hair back from her forehead with the other. When he’s finished, hazy honey-colored eyes blink up at him slowly, like she’s coming out of a trance. It’s a dizzying change from the last time they did this.

They haven’t said goodbye yet and he already misses her — misses this — but he knows he’s lucky to have it for a moment, however brief.

The scalding water feels like heaven on his sore muscles. Sam tilts his head to the side, trying to stretch, and his neck makes a series of popping noises. Faith winces in sympathy.

“Shit, man,” she chuckles. “You sound like Rice Krispies.” She maneuvers around him in the narrow space, reaching up to dig her knuckles into one of his many knots. Sam groans, exaggeratedly pornographic.

Her hands are small, but strong, and Sam’s melting under her palms, increasingly loose-limbed and pliant as she works her thumbs in circles down the muscles on either side of his spine.

“We should get out of here before I forget how to stand up,” he mutters, and Faith laughs. “I think it’s your turn.”

“I like the sound of that.”

She lays herself out on the bed, stomach down, and Sam takes a moment to stare. The way she’s put together — sleek muscle and lush curves under creamy skin — is like art. If she was anyone else, Sam might call her delicate, but he knows better; he knows exactly what she can do. She’s a hurricane disguised as a porcelain doll.

He looks down at his own rough fingers, thickly callused from pencils and triggers and punches, and grabs a bottle of lotion from the dresser before he settles on the bed, straddling her hips. His hands seem massive on her shoulders, and when he drags his palms down, wrapping his fingers around the slim curve of her waist, he marvels at the way she almost fits in the circle of his grasp.

He loses himself in the pleasure of just touching her — in the glide of silky skin under his fingers — in the soft grunts and hums she lets out when he works his fingers into a particularly tight knot. He sweeps his thumbs down the pretty little dimples at the small of her back and then lower, caressing and kneading. He’s careful to avoid pressing on the dappled purple-red bruises from earlier, but he skims them appreciatively, feather-light.

“Do those hurt?” he whispers.

“Little bit. I like it.”

He was already half-hard, aroused in a distant, lazy sort of way, but his dick twitches at that.

He brushes his fingertips down the outsides of her thighs, then up the insides, watching the way she spreads her legs wider for him, but he stops just short of the apex, tracing out along the creases where her ass meets her legs instead.

This feels like a form of worship.

Sam bends to press his mouth to the small of her back, kissing one dimple then the other. He trails sweet open-mouthed kisses down the curve of her ass, lips dragging reverently over velvety skin, licking and sucking along the tops of her thighs, drinking in the way she whimpers and shivers.

“More?” she murmurs.

Sam hooks an arm around her, sliding his forearm under her hips to cant them up so he can lick a thick stripe right up her center, swiping his tongue down and up again with a slick slurping noise. The angle isn’t comfortable but it’s fucking hot; it feels like he’s completely surrounded by her, like this, and when he licks deeper, fucks her shallowly with his tongue, the taste of her arousal floods his senses, until the soapy-clean smell of freshly-showered skin is lost under salty-sweet musk and Sam’s mouth and chin are a mess of slick and spit.

She’s trembling as she repeats, “More.”

He drags his tongue in one broad swipe from her clit up between her ass cheeks, and she curses, pressing back against his mouth. He twists two fingers into her cunt, feeling her clamp down around his scarred knuckles and shudder under his mouth, a frisson of pleasure that travels all the way up her spine. He curls his tongue against tight muscle and crooks his fingers, circles her swollen clit with his thumb, and she muffles a sharp cry into the pillow as she comes.

“More — please — Sam?” she gasps, still clenching around him, so wet he can hear the sound of his fingers pumping into her one last time.

He slides on top of her, blanketing her body with his, kissing the nape of her neck as he presses into her. She reaches back and fists a hand in his hair, making a rough wordless noise that sounds like a question, and her fingers twist until his scalp stings and Sam groans. He sits up, straddling her legs, and his entire body throbs with the pulse of blood in his cock as he fucks her. With her legs together like this, pinned under him, she feels so impossibly tight — velvety-soft and steely all at once — he can barely see straight.

She’s crying out with every gasping breath: “More — please.”

Sam wonders what he could do if he could learn her body, learn what she likes, learn how to take her apart in seconds or draw it out until she’s a writhing mess… if he had just a little more time with her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Faith is wrecked and gorgeous on top of him, not riding him so much as undulating: deep scooping twists of her hips, rising and falling syrupy-slow like she’s moving underwater. There’s dark sweat-soaked hair clinging to her temples and a hazy-eyed, rosy-cheeked expression of bliss on her face. Sam watches a droplet of sweat trickle down between her breasts.

He’s losing his grip on time and the boundaries that used to sit so decisively between them. They’re both exhausted to the point that everything seems a little surreal, dreamy, right in that sweet spot where they might be too tired to come again but languid, sensual sex still feels amazing.

“So fucking perfect,” he whispers. “Just like that.”

Faith tilts forward to kiss him, melting against his chest as she rolls her hips. He wraps her up in his arms and flips them, still inside her, still twined around her. He rocks into her, testing one angle and then another, hitching her leg up higher around his waist, grinding and swiveling until he finds the angle that makes her choke out a curse and clutch at his biceps.

“There,” she whimpers.

Heat starts to pool low in his gut, building slowly but inevitably. He leans down to kiss her, tasting salt, mouths brushing clumsily between deep ragged breaths.

“Gorgeous like this.”

“Sam,” she says helplessly, in the shredded whisper that’s left of her voice. “This — you —“

“I’ve got you, it’s okay. I know.”

Neither of them are particularly coherent, but he knows.

Gold rays of sun slant through the blinds in stripes, illuminating the amber in her irises and the suspicious shine gathering in the corner of her eyes. She smiles up at him in a way that leaves him breathless. It takes him by surprise, the trust in her expression and the heaviness in the moment, and he knows she can feel it too.

Sam wants to shy away from it, but he can’t take his eyes off her.

“Where’s that Al Green soundtrack when you need it, huh?” she manages, and it shocks a breathless laugh out of Sam. Faith giggles too, choked-up and overtired and hoarse. Sam can feel her laugh, feels the rippling clench of wet-hot muscle around him; his body reacts with this gut-punch of arousal, and he snaps his hips, driving in deep. She lets out a rough moan and writhes under him, raking her nails down his back.

From there it builds fast, wild and uncontrollable and blinding, both of them clawing at each other, moving on pure animalistic instinct, lost in each other — lost in the moment. It’s the sort of orgasm that hits like a blackout, like Sam’s out of his body for a few seconds that might as well be an eternity.

When he comes to, he’s whispering nonsense into the sweat-slick crook of her neck — babbling endearments, calling her baby — saying sweet stupid things she would never accept if she was in her right mind, but she doesn’t argue; he’s grateful. In return, Sam pretends not to notice the tears sparkling in her eyelashes.

They’re not sad tears, he knows that much. She’s beaming up at him, all this messy pure human happiness shining in her eyes. She’s beautiful.

Eventually they stop shaking, and Sam whispers, “Nap?”

“Yeah.”

She tucks herself under his chin, and he strokes her hair, counting the breaths before she drops off. She’s asleep in ten, and Sam loses count at eleven.

* * * * * * * * * *

They’re woken in disorienting darkness by a jangling ringtone, and Sam’s immediate instinct is to grab the gun he keeps under his pillow. There’s no gun, though — just a warm naked girl draped over him, cursing like a sailor as the phone continues to ring — because there’s no need for a gun here.

Faith answers the phone by growling a suggestion that sounds anatomically improbable, and Sam hears Dean’s gruff baritone on the other end. He snatches the phone out of her hand.

“S’the middle of the fucking night, Dean,” he grumbles.

“Dude, it’s nine. When was the last time you were asleep by nine?”

“Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes and fights the urge to hang up, turn the phone off, and burrow under the sweat-soaked sheets to sleep until he actually feels rested for once. “Yeah, okay, be there soon.”

Sam is about to apologize for waking Faith, but she sits up too, switching on the lamp, looking around bleary-eyed.

“Gonna walk with you as far as the graveyard,” she says, through a yawn. “Vamps don’t take a night off.”

Sam feels like he got hit by a goddamn truck, sore and achy all over, but the exhaustion goes much deeper than that. In spite of it, he’s smiling as they dress.

They’re quiet, nothing but a soft, “You see my other sock?” interrupting the heavy silence. They don’t touch as they leave the dark apartment and head down the dingy stairwell into the warm California night, and they don’t talk. They’re pulling themselves together — rebuilding the walls that separate them from normal people — putting on the emotional armor that allows them to fight the battles they have to fight.

They don’t wander away from the path through the cemetery, this time, and the monsters don’t find them. When they reach the gate on the other side, Faith stops.

“You know how to get back from here?”

“Yeah.” He pulls her in by her jacket to kiss her, deep and bruising.

She pulls away enough to mutter, “Fuckin’ figures you’re from another goddamn universe.”

“If things were different —”

“They’re not, though,” Faith says, smiling ruefully. “And that’s for the best.”

“Probably wouldn’t end well, would it? ”

“We’d never get outta bed, the monsters would take over. Every universe needs its heroes, right?”

“Right.” Sam cradles her face in his hands to give her another soft kiss and says, “Take care of yourself.”

Faith steps back. “Always do.”

She turns, pulling a stake out of her jacket as she stalks away, off the path toward the darker corners of the graveyard. Sam watches her go.

She doesn’t look back, but before she’s out of earshot, she shouts, “Quit starin’ at my ass and go save the world already. You’ve got work to do.”

Sam laughs, and then he rolls his eyes and starts walking, smiling to himself. She’s not wrong.

#1kclassicrockchallenge #sam winchester fic #sam winchester #faith lehane #btvs #spn #supernatural #spn x btvs #supernatural x buffy the vampire slayer #crossover fic #sam winchester x faith lehane

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yniswaifu · 3 years

Text

The bet - 1

You look at the crowd in front of you, eyeing each person for a split second before turning to other. They were talking, they were smiling, they looked happy. Everyone around you and your group were in similar situation – talking, smiling, being happy. But how do we know it was genuine?

Someone tapped your shoulder. You snap back to reality and look at Osamu, the gray head who was also your boyfriend. He had a questioning look on his face, but kept quiet and just smiled at you. You too, smiled back and finished the rest of your food on the lunch tray. Ten more minutes till the end of lunch break.

While you and Osamu weren't the type to be openly affectionate, with the maximum being a kiss on the forehead, the same couldn't be said about the blonde guy sitting across you. He had his girl on his lap, and his head tucked in the crook of her neck. To you, that looked uncomfortable as heck.

"dude, we're in school. Please curb your love." Osamu chimes in, a distasteful expression on his face. His hand was on top of yours, and the other held the special pork bread you get every Friday.

Your eyes turn to the girl, who was blushing at the comment made by your boyfriend. She was pretty, and popular. But she was also nice. So nice that she will might as well take her heart out for you. Her kindness irked you as well, because in today's world kindness was rare, and you weren't sure how genuine that kindness was. You observed her some more. Her hands were intertwined with the blonde's, and she looked happy. Her happy face made something in you hurt when you looked at the 'genuine' love in her eyes, and the 'genuine' love in Atsumu's eyes. Something in you hurt so bad, it made you angry.

You look down and clenched your fist. Conflict was raging in you, making you feel worse with the seconds. You had to decide, and you had to do it now.

The bell rang, and you got up from your seat. Osamu offered to take your tray along with his, and Atsumu followed his brother - trying to be the gentleman he never was. Suna and Ginjima, the other two classmates and friends you had, they too went to keep their trays at the counter. You and f/n were the only people left.

You weren't very close to her. The relationship was confined till "the other twin's girlfriend" category. And since you and her hung out in the same group, you were friendly with each other. A blanket of awkward silence covered the both of you, and while f/n may look uncomfortable, you were scared. Scared of being fake.

"the boys are taking their time." f/n said, and smiled at you. Your eyes widened at her smile, and then turned to her frown. This is wrong. This is so wrong.

"yeah, it seems so. We'll be late for class." you reply, trying your best to smile.

"I know right. Should I go call them?" she asks, pointing towards where four tall dudes stood, talking about something.

You nod your head, and f/n walks over to them to call them. Shutting your eyes tightly, you pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. That's it, you have to tell her the truth. You can't continue like this.

When f/n returns with the rest of the gang, you stare at them blankly, void of any emotion as you feel drained. Osamu eyes you for a second, and quietly asks, "are you okay?"

His arms wraps around your shoulders and he pulls you closer as you all walked back to class. You were in a different section from others, as your grades were better than theirs. But that didn't affect anyone.

"yeah I'm fine. Just feeling a little tired that's all."

Osamu nods, clearly not accepting your answer, but he let it go for the time being. In the two years of relationship you two had, communication was never an issue. So he knew you will tell him sooner or later anyway.

The boys enter their class, bidding you and f/n goodbye. Atsumu places a kiss on her lips, while Osamu just squeezes your hand a little. You cringe at Atsumu and he sticks out his tongue at you before leaving. Again, it's just y/n and f/n.

"f/n..." you start.

She turns to you and smiles, tilting her head. "yes?"

"when the boys leave for their volleyball practice, would you like to walk home with me?"

You wanted to be direct, but you decided to do it nice and slow.

F/n couldn't believe her ears. The girl she admired was asking her to walk home with her. She wanted to jump in excitement but kept her calm. "sure." she smiles.

You give her a small smile as well, and enter your class. You were going to make it right, even if it hinders your relations.

***

You kick the pebbles on your path, waiting for f/n. Nervousness had a grip on you, but you knew that this was the right thing to do. Best or not, you weren't up for discussing that. You were also aware how this was going to affect the people around you, specially a specific pair of twins – one of who was someone you held dear to your heart.

Speaking of Osamu, your mind drifted to him, and his pretty poker face, and his subtle way of caring. He wasn't the most expressive in the block, but you knew, how much he cherished you. Not like you were any different. Maybe that's why you two vibed well, seeing both of you were introverts.

"let's go."

You see f/n approaching, a smile etched on her face. You force a smile yourself, mentally preparing for the upcoming storm.

It was awkward to say the least. You have never done anything like this before, and now that you have decided to be genuine and honest, all sorts of doubts enveloped you. None of you spoke a word, and you wondered what was going on in her head.

Meanwhile f/n is way too nervous to be walking with you. Being in a class below, hanging out with people like Atsumu and others was overwhelming. She may be popular for her looks or personality, but it wasn't like she asked for it. But when she had seen you for the first time, she was fascinated. She liked how well you kept yourself together, how you were honest with your words, and how cool you were in general. You didn't need someone's validation to make yourself better, and f/n really appreciated that. Sometimes she felt as if her way of living was inside of a bubble, and she wasn't exactly being herself.

For f/n, you were someone she looked up to, and Atsumu was someone she looked down at. His extravagant way of portraying himself for being one of the best volleyball player in Japan, and his superiority complex, got on her nerves. She wanted to avoid him as much as possible, and she did succeed. But not for long, because Atsumu's charms surpassed his cons and she soon found herself falling for him. It was pathetic on her side, seeing how deep she was in this ordeal, and developed a form of self hatred for lowering her morals. Or so she thought. That's why seeing and being with y/n made herself feel a little better, or worse, and she felt she could correct herself through the 'cool' senior who walked beside her in silence.

Soon the silence was broken by you, and you stopped under the streetlight, calling out for f/n. F/n turned to see a pitiful expression. It was almost like...you felt bad for her.

"is everything okay?" she asks, concerned.

Sighing, you meet her eyes and say, "no. It's not."

"huh? What happened?" she asks, confused.

Gulping the lump at the base of your throat, you continue. "Atsumu started dating you because of a dare."

There it was. The bomb. You dropped it without a warning, and the blast is going to injure a lot of people.

F/n stared at you for a good minute before speaking. "why...?"

Her blurred eyes signal the start of waterworks, but you chose to ignore it and continue. "entertainment." you shrug. "you weren't really into Atsumu, so everyone made a bet that he will make you fall for him in a month. And...he succeeded. The bet has been going on for four months now."

Your eyes were cold, f/n noticed. She wasn't sure why you decided to bestow her with this news, and why now. After four months of bliss and in love. Why her, of all the people in the world.

SLAP!

A hand flew across your cheek, the painful sting making it's way on your face. You didn't expect that, but you also knew somewhere deep down you deserved that. You couldn't bring up to look at the now crying girl in front of you, so you kept looking down.

"screw you all." were the last words you heard before the footsteps faded away.

Ah, I went and did it. You think, as your own tears streamed down your face while thinking of the aftermath.

Chapter 1 is up! Wow I'm nervous. Anyway, I hope you like it. The second chapter may be posted sometime within this week, so stay tuned.

Have a beautiful day. ✌️

#Haikyuu #Fanfiction #Anime #Osamu x reader #Atsumu x reader #Suna #Ginjima #Volleyball #Imagines #Haikyuu scenario

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luminois · 4 years

Text

･:*✧ 𝗵𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗷𝗶𝗻;

𝟭𝟯𝟴𝟲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀, 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿.

n/a: this piece is related to another work of mine, which you can read here. you don’t have to read it to read this one, but i would appreciate it if you did.

looking up from your lunch, you were met with the sight of your youngest friend and her boyfriend giggling and whispering to each other, blush dusting both their cheeks. from the moment jeongin had confessed to her this had become your new reality, and you were already sick of it. it was cute, adorable even, but you’d quickly gotten tired of having to look at them shamelessly flirt everywhere, completely uncaring of people around them. you understood it was their first relationship, and you were genuinely so happy for your friend, you just wished they didn’t shove it in your face every damn day.

the truth was, you were single. very single. so single it was almost painful, and having a blissed-out couple under your nose everyday wasn’t doing any good to your already blue mood. you too wanted a boyfriend to giggle and flirt around with, and it was driving you crazy how much you ached for it.

shaking the thoughts out of your head, you quickly looked away from jeongin and your friend, hoping nobody sitting around you had noticed. the new couple had brought the two friend groups together and now eight boys were sitting at the table that used to belong to the girls’ volleyball team only. they were all good guys, a bit too loud at times but undoubtedly funny and undeniably cute. some of your friends had no problems in voicing out how attractive they thought jeongin’s friends were, and they were currently laughing at their jokes like they were the funniest things they’d ever heard. you agreed with them, of course. felix and seungmin were entirely endearing, while minho and chan had that quiet and mysterious kind of vibe that lured everyone in. you suspected there was something going on between minho and jisung, but it wasn’t your place to pry. and then, hyunjin.

your eyes traveled to him, comfortably sitting right beside you. he was laying back on his chair, his lips stretched out in a relaxed smirk and black hair messed up just enough to look good. hyunjin was attractive and he knew it, and you liked to pretend his confidence bothered you. him and his ridiculously attractive face and body and everything. he wasn’t arrogant but he loved to tease, and he loved to tease you the most. you scoffed at everything he said, hiding your smile and the way your stomach squirmed with butterflies. but you knew hyunjin saw right through you, he was too smart for his own good, and you didn’t know how long you could keep pretending.

hyunjin’s eyes met yours, his smirk getting bigger at having caught you staring. you rolled your eyes and looked down at your untouched lunch again, your breath catching in your throat as he scooted his chair closer to yours.

“they’re cute,” he said, low enough only you could hear. you were extremely aware of his arm now resting on the back of your seat and you decided to indulge yourself, leaning back to feel it against your back.

you folded your arms and turned your head to look at him, almost gasping at how close he actually was. “sickeningly cute.”

hyunjin raised his eyebrows, witty smile never leaving his lips. “c’mon baby, they’re not that bad. i bet you would act just like them if you were in love.”

“how do you know i’m not?” you said, forcing your brain to ignore the pet name. you were stepping into dangerous territory, talking with him about love, and you didn’t know why you were doing this to yourself.

“are you in love?”

“how do you know i won’t lie?”

hyunjin chuckled, pulling a smile from you as well. he carded his fingers through his hair before looking back at you, eyes gleaming with mischief. “you can try, baby, but i know you can’t lie to me.”

your smile died on your lips, and you could swear your heart stopped beating for a good second. he’d hinted at it playfully before, and you knew he knew. but he’d never acknowledged your obvious crush for him so bluntly before, and it made you panic. without thinking about it twice you did the one thing you were best at. avoiding confrontation.

“i have to go practice my spikes,” you said curtly, grabbing your bag and leaving the table without looking at anybody.

you didn’t know if your friends or the boys had noticed you leaving, the noise of the full cafeteria and your heartbeat in your ears drowning everything else out. you darted through the tables quickly, getting out of the crowded room but not slowing down as you crossed the empty hallways. quick steps followed yours and you knew it was him, but you only stopped when a hand grabbed your wrist.

“baby, stop.”

“don’t call me like that, hyunjin, i’m not your baby” you snapped, weakly trying to free your wrist.

hyunjin only held you tighter and tried to make you look at him, scoffing when you kept turning away. “fine, if that’s what you want.”

you gasped as hyunjin grabbed your shoulders and pushed you against the lockers behind you, he hadn’t hurt you, he’d actually been gentle enough that you could’ve fought against it if you wanted, but you went willingly, even if you tried to tell yourself you hadn’t. you were too soft for him.

your eyes met hyunjin’s as his hands moved to cup your face and hold you still. “calm down and listen to me, okay?”

your eyes were open wide and he smiled at how cute you looked in that moment, your usual coldness gone in favor of newfound vulnerability. you looked at him for a long second and then nodded, red staining your cheeks as he smiled.

“i’m sorry, i was too straightforward, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. forgive me?”

you smiled at his cute tone, looking away as you answered quietly. “you’re forgiven.”

“thank you,” he said, “and i’m sorry i called you baby, i thought you liked it.”

“i do.”

hyunjin’s smile grew fond then, and your blush deepened. “yeah?”

“yeah, i like it,” you said, and then you hesitated. you didn’t know if you were ever going to get another chance like this, and you were tired of pretending, too. “and i like you.”

you watched his expression closely, feeling like your heart was going to beat out of your chest and your legs were going to give out under you. hyunjin’s smile didn’t waver and only grew bigger, the most genuine smile you’d ever seen him make.

“i know, baby, i like you too,” he said, stepping closer until you were plastered against the lockers and his body was touching yours everywhere.

you blinked at him, your mouth hanging agape as you looked at him in disbelief. he laughed at your expression, his hands traveling down until his arms wrapped around your waist. “don’t look at me all surprised, it was quite obvious.”

“it wasn’t, i didn’t know!” you said, your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. your hands now rested on his shoulders, wrapping around his neck like it was the most natural thing you’d ever done.

“then you must be blind, baby,” he laughed, “i liked you even before you liked me, actually.”

“there’s no way.”

“trust me, it’s true. when innie came to practice to confess to your friend me and lix were there to help him, and i couldn’t even support my best friend properly because i couldn’t stop looking at you. i saw you and i was gone right there and then, innie is still mad about that one too.”

you shook your head, your frown turning into a smile. you’d been so foolish, but you had no more time to waste. you stood on your tip toes and pulled him down to meet your lips, almost making the both of you fall. hyunjin’s hand flew up against the lockers as your giggles were swallowed in the kiss.

at the end of the hallway, jeongin and his girlfriend looked at the two of you, holding hands and cringing as your kiss got more passionate. “i mean they’re cute but that’s a little much.”

jeongin just shrugged and led her back in the cafeteria, throwing one last fond smile behind his shoulder.

———

do you want to read more?

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foxstride · 2 years

Note

Okay okay but songs that give me hawkivy vibes but it’s hard to find songs specific to my headcanons but uuhhh:

You Couldn’t Teach Me Integrity - crywank (hawk pov?)

Monsters - All Time Low ft. blackbear

I Bet on Losing Dogs - Mitski (Ivy pov)

She Don’t Want To Live - I Hate Myself Because (hawk pov)

Texas Reznikoff - Mitski (ivy pov)

After Dark - Mr. Kitty (hawk pov)

Looking Out for You - Joy Again (hawk pov)

Song for a Guilty Sadist - Crywank (not exactly accurate to the lyrics, but, hawk pov on ivy and the whole dark forest training thing)

Bad Idea! - Girl in Red (ivy pov)

OK SO I FINALLY GOT TO LISTEN TO THESE. Some thoughts while I was listening to them...

You Couldn't Teach Me Integrity - Crywank Hawk in the early days of training Ivy, recognising the pattern he has with obsessing over people, trying to make a change, knowing the impossibilities of this love, questioning if it even IS love

Monsters - All Time Low ft. blackbear & Demi Lovato Hawk knowing that he's putting not only himself at risk but mostly Ivy at risk, and Ivy (thinking she knows) knowing what she's getting into but still going back each night

I Bet On Losing Dogs - Mitski Ivy staying with the Dark Forest and knowing they're going to lose but not wanting to lose a single second she can spend with Hawkfrost. Potential evil!Ivy AU where she gets further down but still knows she's doing Bad. But also AU where Ivy dies in the final battle and Hawkfrost takes her spirit back to the Dark Forest to get lost together

She Don't Want To Live - I Hate Myself Because Hawkfrost trying to convince Ivy to leave the Dark Forest because he wants her to live but she won't leave. Possibly connected into the above. Like. He's begging her to live for them. Bonus if it's a ghost!kits AU too ;)

Texas Reznikoff - Mitski Hawk telling Ivy about the Old Forest <3 Ivy wanting to go back there together, but Hawk doesn't know if he can even leave the Dark Forest long enough to go there, so they dream of this life where they could travel back and return to the forest to be together, just the two of them

After Dark - Mr. Kitty I get both vibes for this, like. Ivy going to the Dark Forest one last time to have one last night with Hawk, trying to draw out the moment as long as she can to be with him. Hawk thinking about her during the day and how he can possibly ask her to be with him, swirling in his head

Looking Out For You - Joy Again Canon-Compliant HawkIvy?? Hawk seeing Ivy pull away from the Dark Forest, maybe seeing her acting as spy and reporting back to the others, but he doesn't do anything about it. And he can't tell her about his feelings. He just can't. He wants to so bad, and they just keep filling time with training, or talking about other things, but mostly anything but talking about themselves

Song for a Guilty Sadist - Crywank I rly like this for Hawk's POV, they're fighting and she wants to keep going and he feels guilty but he holds back his feelings to give her what she wants. They're struggling. Hawk wants to show her love but he doesn't know how to. Ivy wants to keep getting stronger, and that he can give her. They could be soft. But they can't. Not here

bad idea! - girl in red god. yeah. Ivy's regrets, Ivy knowing she should stop, knowing she needs to pull away, knowing this is bad and it's a bad idea but she just keeps going back for more.

thank you for the song recs <3 i have. SO. SO. SO many HawkIvy feels right now

#hawkivy #hawkfrost x ivypool #wc ship #itsfallz #wc headcanon

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Dangerous and Divine - Part 4

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff with a bit of lemon zest 🍋 The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral sex, between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

(My GIF)

“Angel....” he sighed.

“Billy....” you smiled lazily, “...you’re such a big sap.” His barking laugh rang out loud in the room.

He rolled off you, laying on his back, stretching and turning his head to look at you, smiling. “Not somethin’ you should really be sayin’ to an ex-Marine, sweetheart.” You shrugged, “Not if it’s true.” “So, first I’m a puppydog and now I’m a big sap?” You nodded, “Yes. Yes, you are.” He rolled back onto you, kissing you again. “Okay, okay, I’m a big sap. But not a puppydog, alright?”

“Oh, alright,” you grumbled, pushing back an errant lock of that hair. Then you ran your fingers through the whole lush mass of it. He grinned, “You really like my hair, hmmm?” You were still playing with it. “Yeah. So what if I do?” He shook his head forward, so that several strands of it tickled your face. “Another little thing I know about you now.” You blew the strands off, and began pushing them back over his brow again. “Gonna use it against me, Russo?” He chuckled, “You bet.”

He rolled away and stood up next to the bed, pulling the condom off and knotting it before throwing it casually into a bin under the bedside table. A nasty little voice in your head muttered, strategically placed bin, looked very practiced doing that, you sure he doesn’t bring women back here? Oh shut up, you silently answered.

“Like some more wine?” You nodded, so he strolled out of the bedroom (you were totally watching that tight ass walk away) and returned a few moments later holding two glasses. He held one out to you, which you took and sipped from. Really good wine, you thought.

He lay down next to you, taking a drink of his own wine and just gazing at you. “What?” you asked. “What?” he parroted back at you. You poked his shoulder, “Why are you staring at me like that?” He took another drink, eyes never leaving yours over the rim of the glass. “So I can’t just sit and look at my beautiful girlfriend?” You laughed out loud, “What?! Did you just use the G word, Russo? You’re joking, right?” He grinned back at you, “Are you sayin’ you don’t wanna be my girlfriend?” You were surprised to see his grin fade a little the longer you gazed back at him.

Sitting up straighter, you said, “Billy.... tell me you are joking with me? We’ve known each other for like, 5 minutes! And you’re a player, and a very busy boy and I’m a very busy girl. I like you, I really do... but this is all just a bit of fun between us, right?...what else could it be at this stage?” You were surprised when a real frown appeared on his handsome face and he looked away from you. He sat up, resting his wrists on his raised knees, wine glass dangling between them from his long fingers.

“What else...?” He turned his head to look at you, “...somethin’ real. Maybe you don’t, but I feel a deep connection between us, even this early in. Like, I can be myself with you. Without all the bullshit.” You took a long sip of your wine, maintaining eye contact, considering what he’d just said. You reached out and ran your thumb across his bristly chin. “I do think we clicked, Billy. And I’d like to see you again, if you want to.” His fingers went to your thumb where it lingered on his face, and he stroked your skin. “Yes, I do want to. And I want to keep doing this. I mean... us sleeping together.” You laughed, “Now why am I not surprised?” He gave you a small, almost shy smile, “Okay, then.” He put his wine glass on the bedside table and lay back down, propping himself up on an elbow, “You gonna stay the night?”

Taking another sip of your wine, you nodded, “Yeah, think I will. See? I’m even willing to do the walk of shame I promised myself I wouldn’t do for you, Billy.” Now a big genuine grin from him beamed its way to you, “I’m honoured.” “Yes, you should be,” you said, smirking and leaning forward to kiss him softly.

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You and Billy had disappeared under the covers after that, kissing, touching and eventually snuggling into each other before you fell asleep. Waking first in the morning, you looked across the pillow at the exquisite vision that was Sleeping Russo. His face was relaxed and peaceful, his hair tousled and laying over his forehead, lips ever so slightly parted - you could just hear him giving out tiny little breathy snores. He had one arm thrown over your hips, pinning you against him.

Thinking over what he’d said last night, you allowed yourself to be a bit overwhelmed by it. You still weren’t really sure that he’d been serious, but it had sounded like it. Calling you his girlfriend after knowing you for only a few days? That was way too soon, and also didn’t sit well with his super-confident ‘I’m a CEO - look at me - how fuckable am I?’ persona. And you’d seen the reactions of the women in that bar on your first ‘date’, and even in the restaurant yesterday evening.

The eyes of every woman in the place had been pulled towards Billy like a magnetic force was in play as he’d walked in with you. Then their eyes had flickered over you with something close to disdain. Yeah, thanks for looking at me as if I’m a piece of trash. Well, you mentally shrugged, sorry bitches, I’m the one who got to go home with him. And then got to have him.

A tingle ran right through you as your memory provided a reel of you and Billy having sex. Then your mind went back to the ‘girlfriend’ thing, and you couldn’t deny that it gave you a little bit of a thrill that he’d actually said that. But then that annoyingly sensible part of your brain said, “Hey, just chill! Take things easy, see where it goes.” You tried to ignore the other side which was yelling, “Go for it! Tell him hell yes you’ll be his girlfriend.”

You extricated yourself from underneath Billy’s arm and headed to the bathroom, pulling his long white tank undershirt on as you went. Mmmm.. your nose said, Aroma di Russo. Looking into the bathroom mirror, you decided you looked like you’d gone several rounds in the ring with Mike Tyson.

Trying to repair the damage somewhat, you washed your face, swirled some toothpaste round your winey-breathed mouth followed by a ‘rock chick head banging’ rearrangement of your hair. Well now you just looked like Lady Gaga on a bad day. Shrugging, you padded back through to the bedroom, finding a pair of dark chocolate eyes regarding you from the bed as you walked in.

‘Buon giorno,” you smiled at him, getting a big smile back in return, his eyes now sparkling with mischief. “Mornin’ to you too, angel. Uhhh... now what was it someone was sayin’ to me last night about matching clothes?” “Ha ha smartass.. we are not matching, I am wearing one item of your clothing.” Chuckling, he beckoned you back to the bed, but you shook your head, “I better get going, Billy, it’s later than I thought.” You’d been a little surprised to find out it was 10am, you never slept that late - well, not recently since you’d had your own business to run. “It’s Saturday!” he protested, “Where have you gotta be so urgently on a Saturday?”

“I always check in at both cafés on a Saturday morning, it’s our busiest day. And help out if needed.” He contemplated you from his position lazing on the pillows, “A hands-on boss. I’m impressed. I like to be hands-on too.” He saw you rolling your eyes and he said, “Hey! I am actually talking about my business practices here!” You laughed, “OK, OK, I’ll accept the truth of that statement!” You started picking up your clothes, throwing them on quickly and grabbing your phone to call an Uber.

“No, no,” said Billy, leaping athletically out of bed, giving you a nice eyeful as he did so. “I’ll take you home then I’m coming along with you to work.” Your jaw dropped, “Why would you wanna do that, Billy?” He was heading for the bathroom, and said over his shoulder, “Cos I want to spend some more time with you, is that okay?” You spluttered, “Well... yeah, fine,” to his departing back.

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You’d grabbed a quick shower at home - declining Billy’s offer to join you. “I know you already showered before we left your place,” you admonished him. “Can’t be too clean,” he smirked, “maybe there were some places I missed and only you can reach.” Groaning out an “Uhhh!”, you disappeared into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. Not a moment too soon as the door handle rattled a split second afterwards. “Now that’s just not fair!” you heard from the other side of the door. You turned on the shower, grinning at the constant string of pleas from outside but ignoring them all.

Dressed casually for your weekend café visits, Billy dropped you off in Greenwich Village and joined you a few minutes later in the café, after finding a parking space. Here, your three co-workers were already knee-deep in customers, and you were busy taking someone’s order to their table when he stepped through the door. Your stomach did a backflip, and you took a moment to appreciate just how especially hot he was looking today. Black jeans, black V-neck T, black combat boots, topped off with his leather jacket.

Once again, all female eyes tracked onto him like lasers, including your three staff - Stace, Amy and Jen. You sighed, welcome to your new normal you thought. However Billy’s eyes were locked on you, and he smiled, indicating with a raised finger that he was heading to an empty table. You nodded back, mouthing “Two minutes,” at him as you cleared off a table. And now all the female eyes were on you, with a mixture of curiosity and no doubt a dash of jealousy mixed in there. You returned to the counter, walking behind it carrying two coffee cups and a plate, which you rinsed and popped into the industrial-sized dishwasher.

Jen sidled up to you, she was the Jake equivalent at this café. Before she could say anything, you smirked, “He’s my new... friend, okay?” She looked at you, wide-eyed, “Now don’t take this the wrong way, but I would. He’s really hot!” She was just about the only one who could get away with that comment, and you laughed, “You can look, ragazza, but you better not touch!” Her hands went up, innocent look on her face, “Wouldn’t dream of it!” “Can you pass on the gossip to the girls?” you asked, “I’m off to sit with my hot boyfriend.” Moving to the nearest Gaggia, you all of a sudden realised what you’d called him. Oh. You’d better watch that.

Carrying two double macchiatos over to where Billy sat scrolling through his phone, you informed him that you were going to refine his palate, coffee-wise. Amy followed in your footsteps, bearing a plate of pastries. She gawped unashamedly at Billy as she put the plate down in the middle of the table. You sighed inwardly, she was young and had no filter sometimes. “Thanks, Amy,” you emphasised her name, and she snapped out of it, looking at you guiltily before smirking and walking away. You in turn smirked at Billy, “You have a fan.” He laughed, “She’s a kid.” “Yes, she is, and currently sporting heart-eyes for my....” you stopped speaking briefly then continued, “...but she’s a quick learner, she’s only been with us a few weeks and she already makes a mean coffee.”

He added sugar to his coffee, smiling, “What’s this then?” “Macchiato. Espresso, but with a dash of milk foam.” Raising the small cup to his lips, he sipped. “Mmmm, yeah it’s good. A bit stronger than I usually take my coffee, but yeah... I can see you succeedin’ in refining my tastes.” He placed the cup back in the saucer, looking back up at you suddenly, “What were you gonna say? When you said she had heart-eyes for me. Your... what?” He was smirking at you, but his eyes were serious. Truthfully, you’d been about to say ‘boyfriend’ but you weren’t about to admit that to him. You placed your hand on his arm, “Friend, of course.” His hand covered yours, eyes boring into yours, “Well why didn’t you just say that? Hmm?” You could just feel yourself blushing, shit! he’d sussed you out, you were sure of it, but you just laughed, “I don’t know. Cos I hadn’t had my coffee yet, maybe?”

His hand left yours, and he chuckled, shaking his head, “Yeah, okay.” Watching him picking up a pastry and biting into it, you found yourself staring at his mouth before shaking yourself out of your mini-trance. He asked, “So, are we headin’ over to Chelsea soon?” and you nodded, also choosing a pastry and munching on it. “And afterwards?” he questioned you. You thought for a moment, “We could head back to my place for some lunch.” “Yeah, I like the sound of that,” he agreed, devilish smirk in place, “with a hot and sexy session in bed as afters.” You lightly slapped his wrist, “Billy!” your head swivelling to see who might have overheard him - he hadn’t particularly kept his voice down.

You spotted a young woman at the table behind glaring at you as if she was offended, not by the conversation, but by the very fact that you were sitting there with Billy. You quickly looked away from her. Lordy, at this rate you were going to end up with a knife between your shoulder blades just for sharing the same breathing space as Billy. Shortly afterwards, Billy headed for the door as you went over to say Bye to your team. Meeting up with him outside, you saw him looking at a small scrap of paper before screwing it up and tossing it into a wastebin. “What was that?” you queried. Grinning, he said, “Woman at the next table gave me her number on my way out.”

As you two were still standing by the café window, your turned your head until you met the disappointed eyes and angry face of the woman who’d glared at you earlier. You knew she’d just seen Billy throw her number in the trash. Normally you would’ve flipped her off just to drive home the point, but you reminded yourself that she was a customer of yours, so instead you smirked at her, stretching up and softly kissing Billy. He slid his fingers onto your neck and up onto your jaw, kissing you back. It wasn’t as full-on as the kiss in Chelsea had been - which was just as well as she wasn’t the only one watching - but it was enough to send her a metaphorical finger.

You’d then strolled off with him, taking his hand as you did and intertwining your fingers with his. He seemed pleased about this, looking down and smiling at your linked hands. A twinge of guilt hit you, as you’d done it solely to further piss off that blatant bitch who you well knew was still watching and seething with jealousy, but then you did have to admit it felt.... actually quite nice.

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The lunch at your apartment had been really enjoyable. You’d prepared one of your favourite dishes, using fresh pasta you’d made a couple of days prior, and which had been waiting in the fridge just so it could make a suitable entrance. Billy had been fascinated, watching you make ravioli parcels with it and filling them with white crab meat, seasoning as you went along. Then you’d made a light butter and sage sauce to go with it and some garlic bread to have on the side.

He’d polished off stacks of it, saying it was so good that he was going to kidnap you and hold you captive in his kitchen. “Oh, yeah...” you scoffed, “...what is it all those cavemen like to say about women... keep them barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, right?!!”

“If you insist,” accompanied by a smirk and a sly wink. “Not a chance, Mr Russo.”

Even bigger smirk, “We’ll just have to see, won’t we, sweetheart?”

You took the conversation to the bedroom, joking with Billy that while you were indeed a total and utter goddess, there was no way you’d ever end up being a domestic goddess. Billy was laughing, removing your clothes and his in the meantime, while you still chattered on. He finally got you to stop talking by pinning you down underneath him and kissing you with heated passion, telling you that yes, you were his goddess and as such, he was going to worship at your feet.

Billy got up and pulled you smoothly forward by your ankles until you were lying half off the bed, then spent rather a lot of time with his head between your legs, before bestowing a further offering upon your body. This second generous votive consisted of him pleasuring you with his impressive erection, and was the most sensual and prolonged example of worship you’d ever experienced in your immortal goddess-type life. This you graciously and very loudly accepted from your devotee.

You and he fell into a light sleep, both spent after your exertions. Just before you drifted off, you heard Billy whisper, “Next time m’gonna eat some of that pasta right off that gorgeous body of yours,” and your dreams ended up full of Billy, and food, and wine, and sex. And grapes. Well, you were a goddess after all, so you had to have a bunch of grapes to nibble on, right?

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Waking up on Sunday morning, there was a notable lack of a warm body beside you in your bed. Had he just left?...you wondered.... without even waking you? He’d better not have. Not if he wanted to retain his crown jewels, you thought grimly. You got up, rustled around in your drawer for a long t-shirt and pulling it on, walked through to your open-plan living area. There in your kitchen, stood a naked Billy Russo in all his splendour, his back to you as he held the handle of a pan on the cooker, stirring the contents with one of your favourite neon-coloured big kitchen spoons.

“Mornin’, goddess,” he called to you, sniper senses picking up your arrival within his vicinity. You were just smiling at his use of your new pet name when he turned towards you. He leant back on the cooker, arms folded across his chest, giving you a real eyeful of his toned torso and the rest of his ‘equipment’, as he’d called it. You momentarily lost the ability to speak - goddamn that man was a work of art. Quickly recovering, you managed to say, “Morning, Marine.”

A grin curved his lips upwards, “How d’you like your eggs in the mornin’, ma’am?”

“Over easy,” you grinned back. He tapped his shoulder a couple of times with the kitchen spoon, “Ummm.. how about scrambled? And then I’ll give you the “over easy” version afterwards.”

That damn smirk of his, you thought, it’s downright dangerous.

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@blackbirddaredevil23

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Amazing artwork created for this chapter by @lauraeartwork 🥰

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine

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