#he even took the time to schedule meetings with me to state how much potential i have and advise me on what still needs improvement

[exoahgasebby]

Kinktober Day 1 : Long Distance - Erwin Smith

Pairing : Erwin Smith x fem!reader

Word Count : 1.8K

Summary : Spending so much time away from your husband has you both feeling a little needy - even hundreds of miles apart.

Warnings : Minors/Ageless blogs DNI - 18+ ONLY, Explicit language, phone sex, masturbation

Masterlist ; AO3 ; Wattpad

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

Normalcy wasn’t a term you knew the meaning of anymore.

Before Erwin took this new corporate job, your schedules were synced like clocks. He would get off from work one hour before you did, and when you walked in the door the tv was always blaring whatever show he found interesting at that moment. His body would always be sitting on the couch, and there would always be two glasses of wine sitting on the coffee table in front of him - one patiently waiting for your arrival.

Nowadays, a quiet house is all that would greet you after a long day at work. You would try to cheer yourself up by making a fancy dinner for one, but the lack of company always made it difficult to put yourself in a better mood. Erwin was your go to person that you could vent to, and without him you really had nobody.

Throughout the day, you found yourself checking your phone more often than usual. You scrolled through the messages that you had sent earlier, only seeing read or delivered left next to them. He was obviously busy with meetings or something of the sort, but you couldn’t help but feel hurt that he didn’t respond with even a simple ‘i love you’ or ‘i miss you’.

You tried to get your mind off of everything that had happened earlier at work by drinking an entire bottle of red wine. It wasn’t the smartest idea you had ever had, but it was doing the trick for the time being. You were feeling desperate to make yourself feel better, and wine was the first step to your self care for the night.

In your tipsy state, another form of self care comes to your mind. You hadn’t thought about doing it in a long time, but in this moment you couldn’t help yourself.

You needed to feel something.

Your legs carry your body quickly upstairs to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you. Clothes are thrown across the room as you rummage through your dresser drawers to find your favorite lingerie set - the one you wore on your wedding night. Wearing it that night made you feel like the sexiest woman alive, and that was something you craved right now.

You spot something in the back corner of your drawer containing your pajamas, a smile coming to your face. The dark green lace stands out from the normal brightly colored lingerie pieces that you frequented when Erwin was home. You eagerly take it out of the drawer, hugging the fabric close to your chest as you nonchalantly shove other clothing items back in.

Just as quickly as you had found it, you had completely stripped from your work clothes and slid the one piece onto your body. You walked over to the giant mirror standing next to the bathroom door, standing in front of it as you looked at yourself. The piece still hugged your body in all the right places, accentuating your now much bigger chest even better than it had on your wedding night.

Feeling confident for the first time in weeks, you grab your phone and snap a quick picture, sending it to Erwin to show him what he’s missing out on. Within seconds, his name pops up on your screen as a facetime notification. You quickly accept the call as you sit on the foot of the bed. Once your husbands’ face appears on the screen, you realize just how much you truly miss him.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, love,” he says in a low tone.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t ignore me all day I wouldn’t have to come to such drastic measures,” you say, rolling your eyes. “A simple text would’ve gotten me through the day, but instead I had to drink a bottle of wine and put on this old thing.”

“You know I would never ignore you on purpose, y/n. I was playing chauffeur to clients all afternoon. Figured I would not text and drive, since that would potentially kill everyone in the car.”

“Excuses, excuses,” you sigh.

Erwin chuckles at your childlike nature, knowing you could never truly be mad at him.

“I miss your laugh,” you say quietly.

“Just my laugh?”

“Well,” you say as a blush makes its way across your face. “I miss everything about you. Your laugh, your cooking, the way you hold me at night - hell I even miss you grabbing my ass at the most inconvenient times!”

“I miss you too, babe,” he says with another chuckle. “I most definitely miss seeing my wife in lingerie though. Lemme see it again.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach as you hold the phone above you, scanning the camera down your body so he can see it. You feel wetness gather in between your legs when you hear him take a breath in as the camera shows him your cleavage.

“Your tits look even better this time around in that,” he says with a whistle. “I wish I could be there to rip it off of you.”

Your thighs instinctively rub together as his words make you realize just how needy you’re becoming. Erwin can see it all play out through your facial expressions - the blush on your face telling him how flustered you’re becoming just by his simple words.

“Y/N, my love,” he says lowly. “Put the phone on the night stand so I can fully see my wife’s beautiful body.”

You quickly roll your body over, leaning the phone against the lamp on the nightstand. Once the angle looks right, you back away slowly until your entire body is in view.

“Perfect,” he says with a slight sigh.

“Now what?” you ask innocently.

There’s a moment of silence as Erwin tries to collect his thoughts on the other end of the call. Seeing you lying there in your lingerie has him considering booking the next flight home, just so he can ravage you until the sun comes up. You open your mouth to respond when you hear the quiet sound of zipper on his side of the call.

“Touch yourself, y/n.”

You close your eyes as your hands begin to roam your body, trying to imagine that it’s Erwin’s hands touching you instead. His hands work to release his cock from his now tight work pants as he watches your hands move around your body, paying extra attention to your cleavage.

He watches as you pinch one of your nipples lightly, earning a whimper to escape from your mouth. His mind plays flashbacks on a loop of your tits in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the hardened nipples as you would squirm beneath him. Little things like that would have you as putty in his hands within seconds.

As one hand continues to fondle your breast, your other hand slowly makes its way down to where your craving attention the most. His eyes grow wide as he watches you spread your legs apart, your finger teasing around the edge of the fabric. Your heartbeat races as you hear his pants drop to the floor, knowing his underwear is sure to follow.

“I bet you’re fucking soaked already, aren’t you?”

You are, and even without seeing it he knows it. The power he holds over you in enough to have you dripping within seconds.

“I wanna see it, love,” he says in a rough voice.

Your body moves before your brain can comprehend whats happening. Placing pillows up against the headboard, you sit yourself up slightly to give him a full view of your entire body. He notices the wet spot on the thin fabric that covers your pussy, his cock throbbing at the sight.

“Stop teasing y/n,” he warns as your hand continues to dance around the edges of the lingerie. “I don’t want to punish you when I get home, baby.”

As much as you loved Erwin’s punishments, you loved even more when he treated you like the queen you are.

You comply with his demand, your fingers finally slipping underneath the garment. Your middle finger runs itself along your folds, collecting the slick his few simple words had created. A quiet moan escapes your lips at the contact, the noise making Erwin take his cock in his hand. The tips of your fingers make contact with your clit as you start rubbing small circles on it. The quiet moans coming from your mouth have Erwin nearly foaming at the mouth. He hasn’t heard them in weeks, and hearing them now has him bracing himself against the bathroom wall so he doesn’t fall on his knees.

“Oh, fuck, Erwin,” you moan loudly, rubbing yourself faster.

“That’s it baby. You’re doing so well.”

The little bit of praise has you on cloud nine, feeling your climax slowly approaching.

“I know you’re close baby,” he says in a gruff voice, choking back his own moans.

Erwin angles the phone so you can see him better, your eyes trained on watching him stroke his length. The sight alone almost sends you into a spiral.

“Put a finger in baby,” he commands.

Your other hand makes it way underneath the fabric, your middle finger gathering your wetness as you slowly push it in. The sudden sensation causes a loud moan to erupt from your throat, making Erwin moan loudly on the other end of the phone. The sight of you fucking youself with your fingers is enough to almost send him over the edge.

“Faster baby, I know you’re almost there.”

You insert another finger, moving both of your hands faster as you feel your climax quickly approaching.

“Fuck! Erwin! Gonna -“

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum all over your fingers, baby.”

His demand sends you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through your body. Erwin watches as your wetness drips down your thighs, your fingers fucking yourself through it. Your mouth moaning his name over and over finally brings himself over the edge.

You’re practically panting as you watch cum shoot out from his hard cock, your name falling from his lips like a chant. As your high slowly dies down, you takes your fingers out of your pussy, quietly whimpering at the sudden emptiness. You notice tiny droplets of sweat covering Erwin’s forehead as he cleans himself up.

“Well that was-“

“I’m booking a flight home tomorrow.”

“What? Are you crazy?” you say, mouth wide in shock.

“Crazy for missing my sexy beautiful wife? Absolutely,” he says, picking up the phone to hold it as he normally would on a facetime call. “I’ll let you know when my flight is supposed to arrive.”

“Won’t your bosses get mad?”

“At this point, I truly don’t care,” he says nonchalantly. “I’ll tell them I have a sexy woman waiting back at home for me in lingerie, and I need to go take care of her needs immediately. They’ll understand.”

#kinktober 2022 #attackontitanau #attack on titan smut #aot x reader #aotau #erwin smith #aot erwin #attack on titan #wattpad #aot fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #aotfanfic #erwin smith smut #kinktober

[springfedmagazine]

UNOFFICIAL HIATUS: Catching Up With Mas Ysa

Because the reasons for writing this story are so personal, the end result is as much about me as the subject himself. Conducting the interview, spending time with the music and constructing the profile was, in the end, a sort of catharsis (though admittedly a very delayed one). We writers should all be so lucky. 

[May 2021]

In the summer of 2015 a few of my friends drove the scant eight hours from Marquette, Michigan down to Detroit to see a band called Tanlines. They returned after their whirlwind weekend with plenty of stories. Tanlines was great, sure, but the opener — holy shit, the opener just about killed us. 

They’d gone all that way to see one of our favorite bands, and some solo act called Mas Ysa stole the show.

I dug in as quickly as I could, immediately enthralled. At the time (and, frankly, in any time since) I’d never heard anything quite like Mas Ysa. Interspersed with ambient avant-garde tracks and delicate instrumentals were heavy synth-driven anthems — vocals howled and whispered, lyrics pained and defiant. You could dance to it, you could run to it, you could play it in the car or while you showered or while you studied (well, tried to study). A few of the songs were on such heavy rotation at my place that summer, my roommate threatened to revoke hifi privileges if I didn’t start playing something else immediately. It took a bit, but he came around. 

Two years later I was living in Brooklyn when Mas Ysa played a show at Baby’s All Right, a legendary venue that’s hosted hundreds of the indie and alt-rock greats. I took the G train across town and walked in the front door on that rainy April night, ordered my first drink, and maneuvered my way backstage to post up between the green rooms and the bar space. Within five minutes I found myself face-to-face with Tom Arcenault, the singular artist and performer behind all that was Mas Ysa. 

I introduced myself and shook his hand. Even in his highly-focused pre-show state, he greeted me warmly. I explained that I was a music writer (lie); I told him how I’d just met with an editor at the Village Voice (truth) and hoped to interview him sometime, hoped to make a story happen (another truth — it’s easy to be honest about hopes, quite another to be honest about capabilities). 

That first story I planned to write, of course, never quite crystallized. I enjoyed the show, Tom’s downbeat ballad-like renderings of the powerful songs I’d been listening to for years, and stepped back out into the rain feeling ever-so-slightly changed. But through the ensuing years of working and living and moving around New England, Tom and I stayed loosely in touch and maintained loose plans to get together. 

As it happened, that rainy spring night in 2017 was the last time Mas Ysa stepped onto a stage. Later in 2017 Tom released an untitled Mas Ysa EP, four tracks that could be interpreted as a sort of encapsulation of his own arc both musically and lyrically — punchy, honest, defiant, and heartfelt. While he’s teased some samples and early stages of potential work to come on his Instagram, Tom has remained enigmatic about anything further from Mas Ysa. Nothing, as of now, is forthcoming.

In the summer of 2019, three years after I’d started life as a New Yorker, I moved out of the city and up to New Haven, Connecticut where I lived for two more years while my now-wife attended grad school. And in the spring of 2021, almost exactly four years after Tom and I first connected, I revived our dormant conversation to tell him all about my plans for Spring-Fed. He invited me back to his studio in New York to finally do the interview and write the story I’d hoped to write, and with some deliberation and care, we lined up our schedules. That story begins here. 

——————————————————————————————————

The second time I meet Tom Arcenault we greet one another outside his Palmetto Street studio, deep into Brooklyn and a long walk from the Q train station. His handshake is strong and lingering. His visage has gotten to be downright bear-like, shaggy with gray in his beard, and after we chat for a few minutes outside he leads me on a walk around the area. A boyishness still clings to him, even as the peppering of white hairs in his dark mane reveal the decade between us. 

In broad strokes I tell him what’s led me to writing this story. The years of listening to his music, of memorizing the rhythms and lyrics, years of identifying with his work, using its medicinal powers to sort out my own fear and loathing, coming to understandings and, eventually, moving on to form my own closures, my own paths to growth. His music, as I’m explaining to him in fits and starts, has been a through-thread for all of it. I’ve never been one for hero worship or parasocial obsessions; neither of those things apply to my love of Mas Ysa. I just knew that one day if I could spend enough time with the person behind the music, a strong story would present itself. 

When I finish telling him all this, he’s quiet for a long moment. Then he nods, and we begin to peel back the layers. 

As we move along the sidewalk toward a bodega where Tom hopes to find a blue carton of American Spirits (the full-bodied original flavor, or so I’ve read) he starts to fill me in on what’s happened since that final show, the first night we met and that strange juncture of his life. 

“I feel like I’m less relevant now than ever,” Tom says in smoke after lighting a fresh cigarette. His voice, in spite of many years in and around New York City, retains a musical Canadian lilt. “My last album was… what… six years ago?” 

Seraph was, in fact, released in 2015. His “Untitled” EP that came out in 2017 certainly showcased the same Mas Ysa I thought I knew, the same one I’d shown up to see on that rainy April night several years prior. But following that short 2017 release, he had been notably silent.

“I didn’t have an Instagram for my whole first two tours [as Mas Ysa],” he says, “and then when I did have one, I’d be so obscure and confusing. But part of that was because I’m confused!”

His Instagram is, to be fair, an eclectic gathering of images and video clips. There are musical overtones, but only when you look among the garage-restoration galleries, family scenes and weird apocryphal moments — the artist peeking out from within the man.

After we pace around in a two-block radius I snap a few photos of him and try to get over how tense he seems. 

“I don’t do interviews, you know,” he says. We’re walking past a basketball court where half a dozen boys play a pickup game. He’s looking at me very little, though he asks me about my life almost as much as I ask him about himself.

“What do you mean, you don’t do interviews?” I ask. “You mean, not lately?”

Most of what I thought I knew about Tom, as it happens, hasn’t applied in a long time. Not since that sort-of-farewell 2017 show in Brooklyn. Sobriety is perhaps the largest reason; after years of being a party animal, recording and touring and living among New York’s young artistic elites, he had to put down his vices. And with that change he stepped away from performing altogether. That 2017 show I’d attended, an intimate solo performance, had been a presentation of Tom at his most fragile.

“It was like I went to bed one night and I was nineteen,” he says. “And then I woke up and I was in my thirties. I was older but I don’t think I’d really grown up.” He recounts one story about waiting in some under-the-radar basement club to meet with some people from SPIN Magazine; a few guys showed up and offered him drugs. “Thanks, guys, but I’m not partying tonight — I’m waiting to meet SPIN.” One of them replied, “Oh, that’s us dude. We’re SPIN.”

Such was the scene of his early success, a backdrop of thriving New York City indie music. The same fervor for new music that had fueled the rise of LCD Soundsystem, The Strokes, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs and so on had crested into a powerful wave that carried Mas Ysa, too. But some voyages have more detours than others.

Clearly the environment we sit in now is a retreat as well as a working studio. Multiple guitars lean in one corner, a keyboard dominates one wall, spare cables hang from a pegboard. Effects pedals, daisy-chained together, sit in an arrangement box on the floor. 

“When I was in my first 90 days of sobriety I’d be in my studio here, writing something new, and it would go [mimes a beat] and I’d stand up and swig some water and hold my palo santo like a cigarette, and feel this posture that I used to get into,” Tom says, settling into storytelling mode. “And you didn’t see me like this, because I wasn’t like this at that show [in April of 2017], but the way I’d perform is I’d nurse this hostility and anger toward the audience somewhere in my psyche, and I’d have this scary predatory posture, ready to jump in the crowd and fight. I’d go on the stage as one person, and become a totally different person onstage.” He looks at me, then up at the ceiling, describing the anguish behind some of his music — something I sensed even in my first naive, bewildered listenings of it.  

“There would be a lot of this misplaced drama and, like… summoning up a tragedy that I don’t even really have. It was really kind of a blame-filled, hateful feeling, and I was steeping myself in all this shit. I thought I had to do it that way, or it would be hard to feel in-the-moment." He pauses to shape the air with his hands. "And then I’d get offstage a totally different person, psyched up and feeling like I was the man, but not with any authentically-sourced sense of esteem.” 

Tom also draws some comparisons between what he does and what other electronic artists and musicians do. One artist, who won’t be named here, waits for fans to create emulations of their own sound and then they buy it from the fan who made it. “I get that, you know?” Tom says, chuckling. “It’s like, thanks for making it so much easier to sound like me.” To him it’s not a question of authenticity. Using analog methods can really suck and, in practice, he admits they’re inferior; he enjoys the control and tactility of analog inputs but at the end of the day, you can produce the same thing (probably with more consistency and reliability) if you just go digital all the way. Of course, it’s harder for some people to get up in front of a crowd and perform when you drain all the physicality from the music. 

“I have some friends who make electronic music and they’re successful, and they produce… but they’re designers. You know, they design it. And I used to fucking hate them — not hate them, but I resented that practice.” He mentions Four-Tet, Caribou — artists who make a good living on their music alone. “At the end of the artist’s effort, I wanted the work to stand gleaming and polished, and I wanted them to be beaten and bloody on the floor beside it. And I thought that that’s what had to happen to generate the thing. But that was actually me hiding,” he says. “‘This is what I made, and I was so earnest, and it was made with such little thought and design that it’s indefensible.’ Like, I don’t need to defend it; I’m not scared of it being in the world, or of it representing me, because it couldn’t be anything other than… [what it is].”

Tom goes on to explain how deeply his work is rooted in techno and electronica, telling stories about early rave experiences and warehouse shows in Brazil where he grew up. His first experience with drugs, as one story goes, involved a dropper of MDMA administered into his open mouth while he knelt in some dark alley of the Sao Paolo favelas just before entering an illicit rave show. He’s drawing a web of influences that grows in scope to include Ennio Morricone, Daft Punk, early Bob Dylan and Massive Attack. 

His music has certainly spanned genres, even as a few connecting lines can be drawn to tie most of it together — neatly, even. “I write “Don’t Make” and “Margarita” and I don’t think they're really any different,” Tom says. “I don’t mean to make Margarita as a dance song. It’s just what I’m used to hearing. And for that reason, too, it’s confusing — is it fucking dance music? It’s got all the dance-music tropes, it’s got drops, it’s got sixteenth-note bass things… but it’s not functionally dance music. So I think it’s confusing to try and know what it is... but, then, I’m confused as to what I am.” 

On Mas Ysa’s Worth, his debut EP from 2014, the introductory track is “Vanya.” It’s an unstructured 51-second-long ambient track of synthesizer, woodwinds and horns; track two, “Why,” jumps immediately into some of his most accessible work with strong use of bass percussion, 80s-styled synthesizer, drum machine effects and layered, harmonic vocals. Hell, it even has a chorus. And with his third track on the album, another short one called “David Wessels,” we’re back into ambience but in a sort of blinking cosmic lead-in for “Life Way Up From,” the album’s fourth track and a more traditional composition we’d feel comfortable calling a “song.” Back and forth, in this way, the album proceeds from start to finish. 

“Yeah, ‘Why’ really was the banger from that album wasn’t it?” Tom says, his response to my admission: it’s the first precious thing that hooked me into his oeuvre. 

More than a banger, it was an anthem — when I first heard the song it wrapped me up in rhythms I could dance to, lyrics I could have gotten tattooed across my chest, and an autobiographical sensibility I still feel deep within me when I think back to that period of my life. We can’t ever really know how or when we’ll mark one another’s lives, but “Why” and the summer of 2015 stand out clearly in my chronology as something formative, a dividing point. It’s the kind of thing that keeps you digging deeper, wondering what’s behind a song or an album, wondering about the origin points of the things we love. 

In this way — the back-and-forth stylings of his tracks, the interspersion of singable harmonies with altered nature recordings and abstract compositions — Mas Ysa received some acclaim for Worth and went on to release Seraph a year later. With Seraph’s harder edges and decidedly more techno stylings, Tom explored his dance and rave influences further without straying too far from the anthemic folk-rock — tracks like “Margarita,” “Garden” and “I Have Some” blend electronica with analog and folk rhythms, treading ground he had mostly covered before. But with standout tracks “Suffer,” “Service” and “Running,” Tom leaned more into the intensity of dance and trance… as far as genre-labeling is even effective while you describe a Mas Ysa record. 

As much as I consider myself a music fan, even a sort of buff in the right genres and verticals, Tom clearly reaches deeper into these wells. He distills things into more clear finalities than I ever have. It’s his life, this music, and it has been for years. When you build an identity around your art, you’d better know what you’re doing. 

“I don’t come from, like, ‘oh, America gets techno music in 2010, and then there’s EDM, and everyone in Brooklyn throws out their guitars and gets a drum machine,’ or something. I come from hard techno in Sao Paolo. I didn’t have Neutral Milk Hotel in Sao Paolo; I had TREZR. I had electronic music.” 

But as for what he has always aimed for with Mas Ysa, he says: “I am trying to make folk music — that’s what it IS for me. And it just so happens that the K2000 and the 909… those are my acoustic guitar.”

The gaps of bright blue sky to be seen through Tom’s high studio windows are dimming quickly when our conversation begins to trail off. We’ve been talking — for the most part, Tom has been talking — steadily for over two hours. I reluctantly mention my dinner plans. I’ll have friends coming from different parts of town to meet us back at the Ace and I can’t keep them waiting too long. Tom nods.

As I stand and gather myself we start talking again, almost frenzied. Tom offers to walk me back to the train so we can squeeze in that much more conversation. What he’s recently been listening to comes up, somehow for the first time; Nathaniel Ratliffe and other stuff along the vein, folk rock. It strikes me as sort of funny, such an edgy electronics-first artist being really into wood-whittling music like that. I ask him what his own favorite song is from Mas Ysa’s output. He says he doesn’t know.

Then after we pause and I snap some more photos, playing with the red cast of the sunset above so many brownstones and brick facades, he changes his mind. “I think it’s ‘Shame.’ You’ve got to listen to ‘Shame’ again,” Tom says. “I know I would’ve played it when your friends saw me open for Tanlines. It was on the setlist.” He tells me to listen to the words, then listen again, listen and dance to it — it’s all in there.

I tell him I will. We shake hands, and I sense that he wishes I could stick around a bit longer; I do too, in spite of the friends I’m about to see, the dinner I’m about to enjoy, our one last night in the city before my fiancèe and I take off for the great gloomy southeast. In this moment of departure I’m reminded of a quote that I can’t place now: something about how so many of our greatest exchanges happen on the doorstep. He smiles wide, then turns and walks away, hands jammed back into his pockets. I turn away, too, toward the subway entrance, but I hesitate at the top of the steps to breathe a little more clean air that’s somehow breezing through the Brooklyn streets. It’s the most perfect New York evening I’ve felt in a long time.

Hearing a train on the approach, I leap down the station steps two at a time and swipe my MetroCard to pass through the gate. As I board the mostly-empty train car and sit down I feel a sheen of sweat evaporate from my face in the cool, conditioned air. From my bag I pull out headphones, and from the tracks already downloaded for offline listening I hunt out “Shame” and hit PLAY. I know what's coming; I know the song inside and out. Still, I brace myself.

[sinterblackwell]

just found out i got an A- on one of the most challenging classes i’ve ever had and so i’m just here,,,, trying not to cry because i really didn’t think i would make it.

#❣️ #literally was on the verge of tears a couple minutes ago but not anymore #this professor pushed me so hard because he saw so much potential in me and #he even took the time to schedule meetings with me to state how much potential i have and advise me on what still needs improvement #i never had a professor i wanted to make proud more than i did with him because he was always so passionate about the books we were reading #in class—and that spurred me on to talk even more and feel just as passionate because i love reading and i love the ideas i got to explore #in these discussions we had twice a week #sometimes though i just felt so tired....and i would have to force myself up and try to do my best but i never knew if it was enough #and i know for sure this isn’t a pity grade because yes covid has hit students way too hard for the past year and a half but #all that mattered to my professor was seeing us participate and make some sort of effort to stay engaged in the class #even if we didn’t know what we were talking about sometimes it was enough to give him an idea of how to guide us moving forward #and gradually just figure out on how we can improve by listening to his suggestions and taking him seriously—taking this class seriously #he’s the toughest grader i’ve ever met and very intimidating 😅 but when he sees you trying as hard as you can he’d never forget that #so yeah i’m just happy #personal

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE TWENTY ONE || JUJUTSU KOSHIEN

↳ featuring : basically everyone at this point from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of violence + mention of injuries + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 20 april

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 4.4k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : nonstandard 

↳ next episode : jamais vu

↳ barista’s notes : let me admit, i ain’t confident in this chapter since i started school again, but i hope you enjoy this episode and thank you for being so patient with me as i try to fit tumblr into my schedule with school ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5. for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique : hopefully this video is slightly better...

Destructive Curse Spell Number Thirty-Three : Sokatsui (6:00-6:07) (blue lighting explosion - Itadori Yuji)

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

this is Y/N outfit when she came into the baseball game (blame twitter)

“How much longer are you going to stare at her? It’s creepy”

Snapping out of his daze, Gojo quickly looked up from your sleeping figure to find his stoic student (who was now sitting up) looking at him with a deadpan expression before he turned to look at your sleeping figure as well with somewhat of a worried expression, wondering what caused you to be knocked out since what Fushiguro could recall was that the last time he saw you, it seemed like you were well and confident before he was carried away by Panda.

“Is it bad to worry about my daughter?” Gojo questioned with a hint of a teasing tone before looking back down at you with his small smiling turning into a straight line.

“Student to be exact, but I guess not after what the curses were after,” Fushiguro quietly mentioned causing Gojo to once again, look up to view Fushiguro with a confused expression painted on his face, trying to convey that he didn’t have a clue on what his student was trying to say. “The special-grade was after L/N...but I don’t know why,” Fushiguro instantly declared as if he was answering to his teacher’s perplexed expression leading to Gojo sighing in frustration before taking one of his hands out of his pocket to stroke your hair as if it would bring you some comfort in your dreamless slumber as he then processed to remove his other hand from his other pocket to reveal a carton of orange juice before placing it on the bedside table.

“Is that so?” Gojo asked rhetorically, before making his way towards the door since he was informed that there was going to be a meeting with the Jujutsu Tech principles and sorcerers that were involved with the whole Exchange Event incident.

However, before he was able to grab onto the handle, the wooden door violently flew open showcasing his other students Itadori and Kugisaki on the other side with a box of pizza in hand leading Gojo to smile at them both.

“Oh Gojo-sensei! What are you doing here?” Itadori asked once he comprehended that it was his teacher blocking the way to see his two other classmates.

“Ah~ I was just visiting Megumi and Y/N before I go, make sure to not make too much noise, I’m sure Y/n would really appreciate it,” Gojo answered with a cheerful tone, leading Kugisaki to tilt her head to the side to realise that you were sleeping - much to her disappointment.

“She’s still recovering?” Kugisaki then questioned, leading her teacher to look at her before explaining that you were knocked out due to using an excessive amount of cursed energy within a short amount of time causing Kugisaki to nod to his little lie since he didn’t even know why you were extremely distraught when he came to collect you.

“I’ll be going now, so see you later~ don’t wake up my precious daughter!” Gojo states with a playful tone, before waving his hand to all of the first-years leaving them to themselves with a warm box of pizza in hand.

                                                 ꕥ

“Next up are the casualties: three second-grade sorcerers, one semi first-grade sorcerer, five assistant supervisors, and two cursed storehouse guards. They’re all sorcerers who were standing by at Jujutsu High and working separately from Gojo-san and Principal Yaga. We’re waiting on the report from Ieiri-san, but we’re nearly certain it was the work of the cursed spirit that Nanami-san encountered before,” Ijichi explained as he was looking down at the document sheets he had in hand to inform all the sorcerer that was in front of him about the situation at hand.

“Tsk,” Gojo tutted in annoyance while leaning against the door with his lower face tucked into the collar of his sorcerer uniform.

“Do you think we should share this information with the students and the other sorcerers?” Utahime asked as she turned to her colleagues.

“No,” the Kyoto principal: Gakuganji quickly answered, as the fellow principal from Tokyo: Yaga explained that it was better for this information to be among the higher-ups as he didn’t want to cause anymore panic to the students residing in the area right now as well as not wanting any of the curse users in their captivity to know that a few special-grade objects that been stolen from the school premises.

“Has the curse user we captured spilled anything?” principal Yaga queried, leading Ijichi to explain that it wasn’t hard to get the certain curse user to talk at all since he was quite cooperative but all they managed to receive was irrelevant information that was deemed somewhat unhelpful to them.

“However, he claims that he only participated in the attack because he was ordered to as part of a deal,” Ijicji added, before informing everyone about the monk that the curse user was talking about when he was interrogated.

“An androgynous monk kid with a bob cut? That ring any bells?” MeiMei asked, as she turned her head slightly to peer at Gojo, who was right behind her.

“Nope! We sure he’s not spouting bullshit? Is there any sorcerer skilled at getting confessions?” Gojo answered before asking his questions since he knew he couldn’t be too sure if the curse user was even telling the truth in the first place.

“How did a cursed spirit and outsiders get through Tengen-sama’s barriers in the first place?” Utahime questioned, as she was still confused on how so many people were able to get in without any problems and alerts.

“That was probably the work of the special-grade cursed spirit the students fought, that one has a unique presence. Even though it’s a cursed spirit, it’s incredibly close to a natural spirit. According to Aoi, it was able to hide among plants and was quite burnt from a few techniques like wood would be, and Tengen-sama’s barrier doesn’t function against plants. Tengen-sama’s barrier puts all its power into hiding, not protecting, so once you get in, it’s kind of weak,” Gojo answered his colleague with an explanation that led the whole room to turn completely silent for quite some time.

‘Are they worried about Sukuna’s Finger enhancing Yuji’s potential? Or are they trying to enhance themselves? Why would they need Y/N then? Something isn’t sitting right’

“For now, let’s be glad our students are safe,” Utahime mentioned with a calm smile presented on her face as there was one calm and good news that they would celebrate on.

‘Safe? How long until Y/N is going to stay safe? For how long?’

“But it goes without saying that the exchange event is now cancelled,” principal Yaga informed everyone as he turned to look at the fellow Kyoto principal, who was sitting right near him.

“Hold on, that’s not for us to decide, is it?” Gojo asked in a light tone, causing everyone in the room to look at him in confusion since they didn’t know what they meant by it not being their decision.

                                              ꕥ

“When did you start getting along with that gorilla?”

At this moment, Itadori and Kugisaki were sitting next to each side of Fushiguro’s bed, as they were visiting both you and him, while all of them were munching on the pizza (which only had a few slices left) that was currently sitting on top of Fushiguro’s legs.

“Well, we got along, but like...I remember what happened, but I wasn’t exactly myself then…” Itadori answered in complete uncertainty as he didn’t even know the answer himself, causing him to scratch his head in confusion.

“What, were you drunk?” Kugisaki questioned in confusion since she was expecting a confident answer from her classmates.

“You believe I could’ve been drinking liquor in this situation? I’m shocked,” Itadori mentioned before looking down with somewhat of a disappointed look that his owl friend thought of him like that. “But I’m glad you and Y/N weren’t seriously hurt, Fushiguro. You’re able to eat pizza now, too” Itadori stated with a smile on his face as he turned to look at the shikigami user before turning his head to see your still sleeping figure on the bed behind Kugisaki causing her to turn around to check if you had woken up yet.

“Come on, bring me something easier to digest,” Fushiguro replied since he was still recovering but nonetheless, took the food that was given to him.

“No complaining,” Kugisaki answered back before taking another bite of her pizza slice before snatching the box away from Itadori, who was about to grab another slice, due to her wanting to save the last remaining two slices of the cheesy food for you.

“Apparently, I got off easier because my cursed energy was all dried up, Ieiri-san was still able to fix me up as soon as the roots were removed, but I didn’t know Gojo used up so much cursed energy as well, Gojo seemed really worried when he went to Ieiri-san,” Fushiguro explained before turning his head to glance at you.

“Huh, so that’s a thing that can happen?” Itadori questioned.

“You fought against them, didn’t you? Also, did you see the flowers right above us when we were in the veil? They were so pretty!” Kugisaki commented, before looking up as if she was going to answer who was the person was that released the technique.

“Flowers? Oh, you mean the pink ones?! Kugisaki, those were so dangerous, didn’t you see the blue lighting explosion that happened right after?! It literally gave the curse a whole gash across its body!” Itadori exclaimed in shock causing Fushiguro to remember the array of flowers that were hanging in the sky when Panda was carrying him just before he crossed the veil.

“It was so beautiful though, I hope to see them again, I wonder who it was?” Kugisaki questioned before finishing off the last piece of pizza.

“Itadori, you’ve grown stronger. Back then, we both said our convictions were proper ones, I still think that’s true. Or, put another way, we’re both wrong,” Fushiguro mentioned with a low tone, causing both Itadori and Kugisaki to look at him as he was talking.

“Huh?” Itadori uttered in a confused tone, while Kugisaki processed to rest her face on the palm of her hand with a small pout.

“Some questions don’t have answers, you know. You’re thinking too hard, you’ll go bald,” Kugisaki mentioned.

“That’s right. There is no answer, it’s just whether or not you can accept it. But there’s no accepting anything if you can’t have it your way. Weak sorcerers can’t do that,” Fushigurp replied back causing the whole room to go silent as they were beginning to process what Fushiguro had said in his mind.

“So I’m going to become strong, too. I’ll surpass you in no time,” Fushiguro declared as he turned to face Itadori with a look of determination.

“You never change,” Itadori responded with a small light giggle.

“Don’t just move the conversation forward without me, we need to catch up with him and Gojo,” Kugisaki mentioned with annoyance painted on her face.

“That’s my brother’s friends for you!” 

Suddenly, the first-year trio rapidly turned their heads forwards to suddenly discover Todo sitting down right in front of Fushiguro’s bed with a smile on his face as he nodded proudly of the conversation that he had interrupted.

Unexpectedly, Itadori rushed towards the glass sliding door next to your bed and opened it with a loud bang before swiftly sprinting away from Fushiguro’s room as fast as a cheetah, only for Todo to follow behind him yelling out where his brother was going.

“I’m grateful to you, but give me a break!” Itadori screamed, causing Fushiguro and Kugisaki to look at the scene with deadpan shocked faces. However, what they didn’t seem to notice was you softly groaning at the loud noise that was happening right now leading your eyes to slowly open but quickly close due to the bright lighting in the room right now.

Hesitantly, you slower opened your eyes again to see a maroon coloured ceiling before blinking a few times to focus your sight, causing you to gradually sit up on the bed you were laying in as your looked down onto your lap leading your hair to cover your face away from your classmates, who now finally noticed that you had awakened from your slumber.

“Gojo, you’re awake!” Kugisaki announced with a smile on her face, yet that smile slowly disappeared once she noticed how you weren’t answering her at all, but rather you kept silent as your hand began to bring itself to your forehead as if you had a headache.

‘So loud…’

After sitting in silence for a while, you noticed that you were wearing a long white button-up with some black Adidas shorts leading you to wonder who changed you since Kugisaki was the only one to ever see you in your undergarments since she was always the one barging into your changing room to throw more clothing pieces for you to try. However, that was one minor inconvenience to think about right now.

Slowly, you turned your body around (so your back was facing Fushiguro and Kugisaki) before placing your feet down onto the wooden flooring, leading Fushiguro to worry about you falling since you had been asleep for quite some time, yet for some reason, you couldn’t hear him at all.

Steadily, you began to stand up with your hand on the mattress to keep some stability in case you did stumble back before you began to make your way towards the gap of the glass door that Itadori and Todo left through before gently lifting your head up to admire the clear sky from above.

‘It’s warm…’

Casually, your body began to lean on the side of the door to give yourself some support as you began to brisk in some of the light warmth the sun was giving you as if that was enough to bring you the comfort that you wanted right now before noticing how the wind was slowly picking up.

“Gojo, you would really get back in bed, you’re still in the healing process and it’s quite cold,” Kugisaki mentioned as she stood up to come to collect you and guide you back to back. However, for some reason, something was telling her to stop as she noticed how you were not listening to anyone at all - or, you just didn’t hear them as it seemed like your hearing was blocked for any human to human communication.

Instantly, the wind that was picking up suddenly blew out a large gush causing some of the leaves from the trees to violently ruffle from its branches while your hair was now messily blowing in the wind as you leaned against the side closer to maintain your footing before you steadily noticed a few pink petals making their way towards you from your right side causing your eyes to widen in shock.

‘There’s still some more?’

Slowly lifting your hand to the sky, you lightly felt the petal grazed your fingers ever so slightly before they slowly become disintegrated to a flow of cursed energy they were made out of causing Kugisaki to look at them in amazement as she stood by your side, as she realised that more was coming towards you both as if you were a magnet to them leading her to come to an assumption that you were the one that cast the flowers back when she was in the veil with the other students and teachers as she remembered that Gojo mentioned that you had used a lot of cursed energy.

“Pretty…” you softly muttered with a small but disheartened smile, trying to hide the emptiness that your heart now had to endure.

“Right,” Kugisaki answered back as she leaned her body on your side while continuing to admire the small flower show that was happening right now causing you both to not realise that the person behind you had his eyes widened as if he had just remembered something that he had completely forgotten about.

                                              ꕥ

“So anyways, a lot happened and some people died, but how about it? Want to  continue with the exchange event?” Gojo asked all the students who were in the room right now...well all of them minus one.

“Where is Gojo though? Shouldn’t she be here?” Fushiguro asked while standing here the staircase as Kugisaki and Maki began to look around the room to see if you really weren’t here with them causing him to look at Fushiguro, scared about his perspective skills.

“Ah~ about that, she’s moving her stuff from her dorm to my clan’s estate for her safety!” Gojo announced before clapping his hands to the side like he did when you first came into Jujutsu Tech leading everyone in the room to widen their eyes at the news since it was quite unexpected since you seemed like the type to reject the idea since Tengen’s barrier was helping you to be protected - but for you, it was easier for you to hide your family heritage if you weren’t in the dorms much to your dismay.

“I don’t know what to say about it…” Itadori muttered as he was thinking of an answer for both the continuation of the Kyoto Sister Exchange Event as well as your sudden move away from the Jujutsu Tech student dorms.

“Obviously...we continuing it, of course,” Todo declared, causing Itadori to suddenly tense up as he steadily backed up near Gojo to have some coverage and security.

“Your reasons?” Gojo asked as he turned to look at the Kyoto student.

“First, only those with a connection to the dead have the right to mourn them, it’s not our place to butt in there and second, if people have died, that’s all the more reason we need to become stronger, besides if it weren’t for the flower technique back then, we wouldn’t have been able to cause more crucial damage to those cursed spirits. Acquired strength comes from the accumulation of results. Tasting defeat and savouring victory is what leads up to grow, the most important part is for those results to exist,” Todo explained as he became to recall the blue lightning that damaged the special-grade curse to a massive degree which was enough for him to gain the upper ground during his fight leading Gojo to internally smile at the information.

“Todo-senpai’s surprisingly reliable,” Miwa whispered to her classmate Mai.

“Reliably crazy,” Mai answered as she rested her head on her knuckles.

“Third, when a student feels like they weren’t able to bring out their best, it hangs over them until they die,” Todo mentioned with a confident smile.

“How old are you?” Gojo suddenly questioned, as Todo wasn’t even as old as he was and the Kyoto student was already talking about ‘hangs over then until they die’.

“I’m fine with that,” Fushiguro mentioned.

“We’ll win anyway,” Kugisaki stated with confidence.

“It sounds stupid, but he has a point,” Kamo replied with calmness.

“Why don’t you rest, Kamo-kun?” Nishimiya mentioned as she stared at her classmate with a fed-up expression due to the bandages wrapped around his face.

“No objections here,” Panda declared as he was answering for the second years in the Tokyo side.

“Salmon~” Inumaki replied back.

“Will we draw lots for the individual battle pair-ups? I want to see Gojo beat Todo’s ass again,” Maki asked before mentioning you since she wanted to see you in a proper fight rather than the million of practice rounds you had with her causing Kugisaki to smile at the thought as well.

“Huh? There are no individual battles this year,” Gojo unexpectedly announced, causing all of the students from both Tokyo and Kyoto to become extremely perplexed.

“I hate routines, you know. Every year, we put the competition methods in this box and open it on the day of,” Gojo explained before tossing the wooden box to Itadori, who looked up for his permission to take out whatever was in the box which he was granted when the teacher nodded at him.

Reaching into the wooden box, Itadori’s fingers felt one single piece of paper within the box before he carefully took it out to see what was written on it, only for him to blink that the wording in pure confusion.

“Baseball?!” Principal Yaga exclaimed in confusion leading Itadori to suddenly discover that both principals from the Jujutsu Tech schools were peering over his shoulders, causing Gojo to walk out of the building with a pleasant smile on his face.

Once outside, he could hear the commotion from behind as he stretched his arms happily before placing his hands in his pocket as he noticed you were standing in front of him with some distance, while one hand on your hips and the other holding a familiar carton of orange juice that he remembered leaving on the bedside table when you were recovering.

“Going home?” he asked before making his way towards you.

                                              ꕥ

Currently, you were walking towards a certain baseball field after finishing some moving your items to the Gojo clan’s estate with an outfit consisting of a simple white button-up shirt tucked into a long black skirt paired with black heeled ankle boots that you decided to wear for the first time since they had been sitting in the box for quite some time after you had brought them on your last shopping trip with Kugisaki.

From what you could hear from the distance, there seemed to be a lot of shouting going on meaning someone didn’t know the rules of the game or they just been called out and the player wasn’t having it at all.

Opening the metal gate, a few people began to notice you coming into the field leading some of your Tokyo classmates to greet you while a certain black divine dog decided to leave it’s owners side to rush to yours before sitting down in front of you with what seemed to be a happy look on its face causing a small smile tp quickly appear on your face as you began to pat its head.

“Hi there,” you greeted it, causing the dog to bark back at you while its tail continuously thumped the ground as if to express the happiness it had when it saw you.

“Shouldn’t you go back to Fushiguro to play the game?” you questioned it causing it to whine slightly before listening to you as it got up and turned back around to head towards Fushiguro, leading you to look at the side to see if there were any seats for you to sit on.

“Ah, Gojo! Are you going to play baseball with us?” Itadori asked cheerfully, causing you to smile back at him before rejecting the offer.

“You guys already started, so there is no point in my playing, but thank you for the invite,” you stated before quickly taking a seat on the bench behind you as you patted your skirt to stop any creases that were going to appear before spectating the game that was happening in front of you right now.

After a while, you had to admit that watching everyone from Jujutus Tech play baseball was certainly more interesting than the actual official game themselves on the TV screen you see from time to time, while Kugisaki throwing her helmet to the ground after the whole pitching machine incident to everyone being shocked at Momo catching the ball on her broom leading Itadori and Inumaki to shout to Todo being hit by Maki’s pitch leading everyone to encourage her further.

‘What a mess’ you thought with a grateful expression on your face that you weren’t playing in his game for the second day of the Exchange Event.

“Are you okay?” someone suddenly asked, causing you to snap out of your thoughts to look to your right to find Fushiguro looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face. 

Unable to say your answer, you nodded at him before turning back to face yourself forwards as you gradually began to recall some of the events that had happened for the past few days before your head steadily placed itself on the middle of your chest as the empty feeling was somewhat still lingering - like as if something was dragged out of your soul.

‘1000 years ago…’

“Yeah...I’m fine,” you answered slowly as more information began to recall in your mind. From how you were sealed a thousand years ago only for the same sealed to be opened fifteen years ago leading to where you were now...surrounded by people that could potentially either keep you safe or do something that had many outcomes, especially with Sukuna residing within Itadori - with relief he didn’t know anything about your real birth.

‘Should I tell Gojo?’

“Gojo...I wanted to ask...have we met before? Like before we met in Sendai?” Fushiguro questioned you with a stutter causing your eyebrow to crook up in confusion leading Kugisaki, who was next to you to look at you with the same confusion.

“No, we never met before, you drag,” you answered, still perplexed on how he came up with a question with such an obvious answer leading you to lift your hand to flick his forehead for such a stupid question.

“Is that so?” Fushiguro muttered under his breath before looking up in the sky with amazement at how far Itadori had hit the ball with his bat while you and Kugisaki did the same.

‘Tiger of the West Middle...still lives up to that name’

Unexpectedly, you heard a childish giggle leading you to turn your head to find Gojo passing the school principals while using his infinity to keep the ants below his feet safe to which caused you to scoff in amazement at how lacked he was to use his technique all the time.

“Let’s go home Y/N!” Gojo shouted, causing you to look at him with a crooked eyebrow before scoffing once again at his playful behaviour.

“Let’s go home,” you whispered under your breath before everyone in the first year stood by your side and followed you out of the field to have a conversation with you before you left to go back to the Gojo estate.

‘Home huh?’

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk imagines #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #itadori yuji #fushiguro megumi #kugisaki nobara #gojo satoru #zenin maki #inumaki to/ge #jujutsu kaisen panda #jjk panda #todo aoi #kamo noritoshi #nishimiya momo #miwa kasumi #zenin mai #nanami kento #ieiri shoko #utahime iori #meimei #jujutsu kaisen mei mei #jjk mei mei #itadori yuji x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #kugisaki nobara x reader

[freddie-weaselbee]

Grade A Business//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Brief semi-nudity, slight language, two suggestive comments, y/n drools on fred but like in a cute way

Summary: As one businessman makes a trip across the ocean to talk to new investors, he meets his new partner, someone a lot more familiar than he was expecting. 

Prompts: Only One Bed with dialogue prompts “if we get caught, I’m blaming you” and “I don't want to be alone”

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Day 2 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge

  Fred had never gotten used to traveling on Muggle airplanes. He never had a need to before, not with everything being a train ride, floo network, or apparition away. But as he and George progressed into adulthood, and the businessman life no less, they found themselves constantly on the move and needing a fast and easy way to travel without drawing suspicion. Except for the one time that Fred’s magical briefcase set off every airport security system imaginable, but he’d learned from that mistake. 

He was relieved to be exiting the JFK airport in New York City, clutching his luggage and thanking Merlin that his feet could now touch solid ground. Being in one of those huge steel contraptions was nothing like flying in a broom. He had no control over anything and it drove him absolutely insane. Luckily, he was safe now, and one step closer to being done with this awful business trip. 

At the beginning of their business endeavors, Fred and George would travel together, trying to pick up business at other locations for Weasleys’ Wizards Wheezes. But as the shop grew and the locations became more and more foreign (so far having shops in Paris, Cairo, and Madrid) the brothers realized that the operations would have to be solo missions to allow for the other to run the shop for longer periods of time. Usually Fred didn’t mind taking the trips by himself. In fact, he rather enjoyed the alone time and flexibility in schedule. But this meeting was supposed to be a big one, and he was feeling quite nervous about having to tackle it himself. 

Big investors located in the states were meeting with him to discuss opening a joint operation in New York City, combining his shop with another renowned wizard business that they deemed would be most profitable. Fred groaned internally just thinking about it. He didn’t want to have to share this new shop with anyone, no matter what the new investors thought. What if the other co-owner was a horrible person? Or worse, what if they had no sense of humor? They’d ruin the Weasley reputation and make it some boring book store. Or puzzle shop? Honestly Fred didn’t know much about the other business, just that he already didn’t like it. 

Hailing a cab, a trick his sister-in-law Hermione had shown him years ago, Fred lugged all of his prototypes--skillfully hidden from Muggle eyes and detection systems by layers of spells--into the trunk before hopping in, giving the address of the hotel the investors had booked for him. He was about to shut the door when a panting scream startled him enough to make him stop. 

“Wait! Hold the cab!”

Doing as he was told, Fred kept the door open and allowed the stranger to climb in, suitcase and all. 

“Thanks,” you said, Fred noting your distinct British accent and strikingly familiar features. “I really need to get to my hotel, I appreciate it--”

“Y/N?”

Shocked, you finally looked at your ride partner’s face for the first time. Soft brown eyes. Freckled face. Bright ginger hair. 

“Fred?! Fred Weasley?” You knew for a fact you weren’t mistaken, this was definitely the Fred you remembered. Or maybe it could have been George? It had been so long since you had seen either of them. Since Hogwarts, in fact. 

Luckily, Fred nodded, confirming your belief that this was the older Weasley twin and saving yourself from heaps of embarrassment. “Y/N L/N, what are you doing here?”

Fred and you both wore matching grins, stretching from ear to ear. What an insane coincidence. What were the chances that you two would be in the same cab, in the same city, in the same foreign country?

“I’m actually here for business,” you said. “After Hogwarts I opened my own shop--”

“Excuse me,” the cab driver interrupted, wasting no time with politeness nor formalities. “But I have cars lined up behind me and I don’t know where you wanna go little lady. So let’s get on with it, if you will.”

“Oh, yeah of course. It’s, umm, oh shit which hotel was it? It’s on 53rd and 10th, I know that…” You trailed off, trying to remember what your hotel was called. You dug around in your purse, hoping to find a piece of paper with the name on it. “I think it was called--”

“Lotus Hotel.”

It was Fred who had interrupted you, once again, and once again you were just as bewildered as before.

“That’s right,” you said after a few seconds of confused silence. “Yes, yes the Lotus Hotel please,” you told the driver with confidence. Turning back to Fred you tried in earnest to understand what was happening. 

“So same location?” the driver asked, to which Fred confirmed before you were speeding off down the crowded streets of the city. 

“Oh, I get it,” you said in understanding. “Same hotel as me?”

“That is correct, love. What are the odds?” He wiggled his eyebrows in a half suggestive half just plain goofy manner, awkwardly shuffling so that his long legs had room amongst your many bags. 

“That is quite a coincidence,” you agreed. “Funny thing is, I didn’t even choose the location. I have a business meeting in the morning with possible investors and they set everything up for the stay.”

Fred’s mouth practically dropped open at what you had said. “You’re kidding. These investors don’t happen to be Robbie Goldstein and Rachel McMillan, do they?”

“Ok, you need to stop doing that,” you said, officially freaked. “That’s the third time you’ve predicted something and it’s starting to creep me out. You never were very good at legilimency.”

He hushed you quickly, hoping the cab driver hadn’t caught onto the magical term you just used. Thankfully, he was too focused on the roads to notice. 

“Ok, Y/N, one last question.”

“And then you’ll explain how you know all this?”

Fred ignored your question and continued with his own. “You said you opened a business. Are you perhaps meeting with another business owner to discuss a collaboration on a new store opening in the city?”

“Yes!” you said, eager to know how Fred could have known that. Was this another one of his pranks? Did he have hidden cameras in the cab somewhere? “How do you know all this?”

He only laughed, a joyous and very relieved grin overtaking his face. Sticking out his right hand, he grabbed yours and shook it eagerly. “Well, Miss L/N, it’s a pleasure to be reacquainted. I’m Frederick Weasley, your new potential partner.”

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

“You know, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Oh thank Godric, I was worried you’d think I was grown up and mature now.”

You laughed heartily as you dragged your bags out of the cab, thanking the driver before he grunted annoyedly and drove off. Your drive from the airport had gone faster than expected, mostly due to the fact that you and Fred had so much to catch up on. 

After he and George had left Hogwarts in their grand exit, they’d created the shop they’d always dreamed of, parking it right in the middle of Diagon Alley. You, on the other hand, went about creating your success in a much more conventional way. After finishing your last year of school, you started working full time at Zonko’s at Hogsmeade, trying to save up enough money to start your own business. 

Many long hours and tiring days later, you opened up your little place, a toy store and puzzle shop. It was a similar setup to what the Weasleys did, but as you described it, “my toys don’t blow up in the user's face.”

You were now very excited for tomorrow’s meeting, the one you had been dreading beforehand. Your business was much smaller than Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and this would be your first international location. You were afraid that the owner you would be forced to work with would be some stuck up rich big whig who wouldn’t allow you to keep any of your small business charm in the new location. But learning that you would be working with Fred, well that was a relief for many reasons. 

Fred rang the hotel desk bell, chatting happily about ideas for the shared shop and new products that fit with what both of you wanted to do. 

“Hello there,” said the hotel receptionist, coming around the corner. “What can I do for you today?”

“Two night stay for Frederick Weasley,” said Fred. “Should’ve been booked by Robbie Goldstein.”

The young man typed quickly into his computer before offering Fred a hotel key card. “Here you are Mr. Weasley, room 504. We serve complimentary breakfast from 6 to 9 every morning down in our west hall. If you need anything don’t be afraid to call down and we’ll assist you in any way we can.”

Fred nodded at the man. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” He turned to leave before you grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled him back. 

“Wait for me,” you said. “I’m not finished talking to you yet.”

Fred smiled and waited behind you as you took your turn at the desk. 

“Y/N L/N, also booked by Robbie Goldstein.” 

He clicked away again but paused for a few seconds, seemingly confused. “You said Y/N L/N?”

Starting to get nervous, you nodded. “Yes, that’s me. Is the reservation not there?” You didn’t want to think about having to find somewhere else to stay, especially because it was getting so late. 

“Oh no,” the man replied. “It’s here all right.” Ignoring the confused looks you and Fred were giving each other, the receptionist handed you a hotel key card and gestured to the elevator. “Thank you for choosing to stay with us. You’ll be staying for two nights in room 504. Don’t forget to enjoy our complimentary breakfast from 6--”

“I’m sorry,” Fred interrupted. “But that’s my room. You did say 504, right?”

“Yes sir,” he replied, not bothering to try to understand the predicament. “Mr. Goldstein booked one room for the both of you.”

Your eyes widened and you looked at Fred, silently asking him to help you figure this out. But instead, Fred just broke out laughing, having to brace himself on the front desk. 

“I guess that’s what you expect when you let two investors who specialize in pranking shops make the room accommodations.”

“This isn’t funny Fred,” you said, although you had to give Robbie and Rachel credit for this joke. Turning to the receptionist, you sighed and ran your hands through your hair. “There’s at least two separate beds, right?”

He glanced down at his computer screen before looking back up at you with a guilty smile. “Well, about that…”

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

“Alright, I’ll take the couch, I’m sure it’s a pullout, it has to be.”

Fred stood in the doorway watching you mumble mostly to yourself. As tired as he was and as much as he wanted to just lie down and sleep, somehow watching you freak out about the sleeping arrangements was a much better use of his time. 

He watched as you threw the pillows and cushions off of the couch and felt around for a lever, something, anything that would allow you a place to rest. Your face lit up as you felt a small impression and yanked with all your might, only causing you to thump backwards onto your butt on the hotel room floor. 

Kicking off his shoes, Fred jumped onto the bed, sighing as he let his body relax. “Come on in darling, there’s plenty of room for the both of us.”

He opened one eye slightly, just enough to see your reaction. You were trying again to make the couch open, although you both knew that it wasn’t a pullout. Nevertheless, you kept pulling at every spot you thought could make a difference. 

It reminded Fred of the good old days, back at Hogwarts when you two were so close. You were always so stubborn, and he didn’t realize just how much he had missed having you in his life. He always wondered what happened to you after he and George left, but with the shop opening up and the war around the corner, he never had the thought to write you or track you down. He hoped this time after you two parted ways you would still remain in touch. 

You groaned loudly, slapping the couch with one of the pillows you had thrown earlier. Nothing was going as planned and you couldn’t be more annoyed. 

“Fine,” you huffed. “I’ll just sleep on the couch, no need for a pullout.” You stomped over to the bed and angrily pulled the blanket from off of him. 

“Hey!” he shouted, trying to grab it back but you were too quick. “That’s not fair, it’s cold!”

“If you get the bed,” you said, wrapping yourself up, “then I get to stay warm. Now go to sleep, I’ll see you in the morning.”

He couldn’t help but giggle at the small bundle of you wrapped up in the hotel quilt, looking like an angry little burrito. Standing, he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it in the corner, followed next by his undershirt before he unbuckled his belt. He turned to face you slowly, feeling your eyes on him as they peeked out of your wrapping. 

You quickly turned your gaze and glared at the floor. “What are you doing?” you said, hoping Fred didn’t see the blush rising to your cheeks. He did. 

He continued to undress, leaving him only in a pair of red boxers that left little to the imagination. “Going to bed, as you said,” he replied nonchalantly. He grabbed a toothbrush from his suitcase and made his way to the bathroom, making sure to walk extra slowly and give you a longer show. 

“This is so unprofessional!” you yelled after him. 

“We’re not business partners until tomorrow, love,” Fred said with a mouthful of toothpaste. “As far as I see it we can do anything we want tonight.”

Rolling your eyes, you shed the large blanket and grabbed an oversized t-shirt from your bag, hoping you’d be able to change before Fred finished in the bathroom. As he emerged, he saw the tail end of you throwing the shirt on, flashing your thighs and part of your panties for half a second. He averted his eyes out of respect, but that didn’t stop his imagination from running away with what he just saw. 

You shuffled past him, taking your turn in the bathroom. How in the world had this happened? How had a nice catch-up with a friend turned into an awkward back and forth the night before the most important business meeting of your life?

All you wanted to do was fall asleep, go through with whatever tomorrow brought you, and pretend like this never happened. But as you came out of the bathroom, you saw that Fred had taken the blanket back, leaving you with nothing except your t-shirt and an uncomfortable couch. 

“Fred, let me have it,” you said, trying to yank it from his grip. 

“No,” he mumbled, voice muffled by one of the many pillows he was cuddled with. 

“Frederick Gideon Weasley, give me the blanket now or so help me…”

Instead of responding, he just reached out and patted you on the top of your head before rolling over and pretending to snore. He was infuriating. 

You sulked back to the couch, accepting your defeat. You pulled out all of the clothes in your bag, hoping they could form as some sort of makeshift blanket. But after a few minutes of shivering and curling into the smallest ball possible, you realized that you’d never manage to sleep like this. Fred was staring at you, partially amused and partially concerned. You looked away. 

“You can always share with me, you know,” he said, patting the bed next to him. 

You scoffed and turned away. “Like I said, Fred, we’re soon-to-be business partners. Imagine how that would look! I’m fine right here, thank you.”

After a few seconds of silence you snuck another look at him. He hadn’t moved an inch, and was instead looking more concerned than before. “You’re going to freeze to death over there.”

“Well maybe that’s because someone stole my blanket.”

“The blanket comes with the bed, and the bed comes with me. Take it or leave it.”

It took everything in you not to scream. You wanted that warm, soft, comfortable bed more than anything at the moment. You needed it. Oh but it would send such a bad message if anyone ever found out…

“If we get caught I’m blaming you,” you relented, trudging over to the bed and crawling underneath the covers, ripping the blanket from a very amused Fred. 

“Who’s gonna catch us, Robbie and Rachel? They’re the ones that set this up! Trust me, nothing’s going to happen.” 

“It better not,” you said. “And make sure you stay on your side of the bed, I mean it! No touching.”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” Fred said, rolling slightly closer to you. “You act as if we’ve never done this before. We’ve slept with each other dozens of times.”

Your face went red at his words, wishing he would have phrased it a different way. 

“You know what I mean,” he said quickly, hearing how his words came across. “But the amount of times we’ve cuddled up in the Gryffindor common room or up stargazing in the astronomy tower. It’s just me, there’s nothing to be scared of.”

“We were also 17 and a lot closer back then,” you retorted, remembering the fond memories you had from your high school days. 

Fred huffed and returned to his side. “I’m not saying we weren’t. I just wish you weren’t acting so different now. It’s like we’re barely friends anymore…” His voice drifted off, wishing that he could go back and change the past. It had been 8 years since he last saw you. 8 whole years. Maybe things would’ve been different if he had tried to stay in touch. You’d never even visited his shop in those 8 years, never seen everything he was so proud of. He was stupid to think that one reunion was going to bring back a friendship that was practically already dead. He was even more stupid to think that maybe, just maybe, fate was giving him one last chance to shoot his shot, close to a decade later. What a right idiot he was. 

On the other side of the bed, less than a meter away, similar thoughts raced through your mind. 8 years. Why hadn’t you, in 8 years, made one trip to visit their shop. Sure, there was a war going on and you were busy starting your own shop, but things had been fairly calm the last few years. Why had you never reached out? Almost subconsciously, you reached out physically for Fred. Your hand brushed up against his back before you tensed and drew back. You both stilled for a few moments, before Fred rolled over, facing you. 

The two of you just stared at each other, both playing mental images of what your lives could have looked like the last 8 years if just one of you had done something. 

“You’re not seeing anyone, are you?” Fred asked, breaking the silence. You shook your head. He moved closer. 

“Are you?” you asked. He shook his head. You moved closer. 

Your faces were now about a foot apart. You moved your hand to rest it between your face and the pillow. Fred copied your actions. You laughed softly, the movement causing a strand of hair to fall into your face. 

Fred reached his hand out to move it before hesitating. “Can I?” His voice was so soft, so full of care. His hand hesitated in the air for a second before you nodded. He brushed the strands behind your ear, fingertips so gentle that you got chills up and down your spine. He let his hand linger before it moved to cup your face. “I’ve missed you.”

You smiled and leaned into his touch. “I’ve missed you too, Freddie.”

His hand left your face and moved down to your waist, eyes not leaving yours in case you ever grew uncomfortable. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to him just like you used to do all those years ago. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and hummed contently, before both of you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

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

“Freddie, Y/N! How are ya!”

Robbie Goldstein, a plump man with fading hair ran up to greet you and Fred in the lobby of his and his partner’s office, shaking both of your hands fervently. 

“Hey Robbie,” said Fred, slapping the man on the back. “I’m glad to be here.”

“Same with me,” you said, glad you could finally meet the man with whom you’d been discussing business through letters in person. 

Robbie looked between the two of you, sly grin on his face. “Ah, so I see you’ve already met them. Wouldn’t happen to be because of a little mishap at the hotel last night, would it?”

You groaned internally, hating that someone else knew about the previous night, but Fred only laughed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

“A great prank, I must admit, but Y/N and I actually go way back. I’ve known her since I was 11 years old, so nice try. I couldn’t imagine how that would’ve gone if we were complete strangers.”

Robbie’s face fell a little before he shrugged and nodded his head in defeat. “Well, what are the odds of that?”

“Astronomical,” you said, giving Fred a subtle tap with your foot. 

Robbie gestured for the two of you to follow him into the conference room where discussions about the new business would commence. “Well, I’m glad that you two seem to get along then, this is going to make things a lot easier. Oh, and don’t worry about arrangements tonight, I’ve decided not to let my joke stretch on and I booked another room for one of you for your last night in town.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Fred, and stepped into the conference room. “Thanks Robbie, that makes things a lot easier.”

“Yeah,” said Fred hesitantly, “thanks for that.”

He shut the door behind you and straightened up. There was no place for personal feelings in this business negotiation. He needed to do what was best for his company and yours, no distractions. No thoughts of crushed hope that suddenly plagued his mind. 

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

Fred hated the bed he was sleeping on. Granted, it was the same bed as the night before, but this time it felt different. It felt like it was mocking him. You had been the one to offer to change rooms and it seemed like you couldn’t wait to get out of there and to your own bedroom, free of any Weasleys. It made Fred sick to think about. 

He had just gotten used to the idea of something happening between the two of you. Last night, it all seemed perfect. You had cuddled the same way you had before, talked like nothing had changed. Hell, he even woke up with you lying sprawled out on top of him, a little trickle of drool falling onto his chest. He didn’t mind. 

But now, everything that happened the night before seemed like a dream. 

Fred knew he’d at least get to see you sporadically from now on. Your business negotiations with Robbie and Rachel went great, and the two of you, three counting George, were going to be combining forces and opening a joke and toy shop in the city sometime within the next year. It went exactly how Fred had wanted it to go, and yet so horribly wrong at the same time. 

He didn’t want to only interact with you as a business partner and casual friend. He wanted so much more than you were willing to give him, and having to see you and write you and work with you was going to be torture for him. He buried his face in the pillows, gripping the large blanket to his chest, wishing it was you instead. Stupid Robbie and his stupid pranks and stupid business and--

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Fred lifted his head to check the clock. It was 2 in the morning. Who in the world would be knocking this late at night? Fred slowly got out of bed, too tired to bother putting anything more decent on. He looked through the peephole of the door but his eyes were too blurry to make anything out. Groaning, he unlocked the door and pulled it open. 

Standing in front of him, clothed in the oversized t-shirt from last night and a pair of booty shorts, was you, looking nervous and embarrassed. Fred hadn’t noticed the previous day, but the shirt you had been wearing was one of his old Quidditch practice jerseys, all beat up and way too huge on you. He remembered the day he gave that to you, or rather when you stole it from him because you complained about it being too cold. Fred had to hold back a laugh at the irony. 

“I, umm,” you started, not knowing what to say to him. How were you supposed to explain that you missed him so much that spending one night away from him was too much for you to bear? How last night had been the best sleep you had in years because of how content and at peace he made you feel. How could you convey all of your feelings to him at this very moment?

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Fred wasted no time in picking you up, laughing as you screamed and kicked your legs around. “Fred Weasley, you put me down!”

He did as he was told and threw you onto the bed before jumping, arms and legs spread out, and landing straight on top of you. “I’m so glad you're here,” he said, peppering your cheeks with kisses. He pushed himself up, scanning your face to make sure what he did was ok, but you grabbed his face in your cheeks and pulled him down into a long kiss. Fred smiled through the kiss, almost laughing at how everything was working out. Maybe fate did have something to do with it after all. 

Fred pulled away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. “So,” he said, mischief glinting in his eyes, “how about we put this bed to good use?”

Tag List: @famdomhideout​ @amourtentiaa​

#theweasleyslut's 2k writing challenge #fredweasleyimagine #fredweasley #fred #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fredweasleyfluff #only one bed

[americxn]

Welcome to the Cortez

James Patrick March x GN!Reader

《 as a detective, the reader attempts to infiltrate James’ life at the hotel for information regarding several disappearances centred around the Cortez 》

requested by @just-some-lesbian - the original request asked for smut, it is likely that I will write a part two and incorporate smut into that but this scenario seemed too heavy and inappropriate for smut. (I’ll write out the headcanons you requested too, I just really liked this idea and wanted to turn it into a full fic!)

wordcount: 3.8k warnings: swearing, blood, violence, gore, death

Your stomach leaped as James opened the door, a mere second following the last rap of your knuckles against the hard wood. Dressed in his usual finery, his appearance sucked all moisture from your throat, your fingers betrayingly stiff as you expected the hand he held out to you. You had been meeting twice weekly with the man, your nervousness in his presence seeming to only grow with each dinner you were subjected to; this evening, your nerves were at an all time high. This wasn’t a scheduled meeting. Several hours ago, Mr. March had instructed Miss Evers to invite you for an impromptu meeting that evening, which could only mean bad news for you, an undercover detective that had been secretly prying into the several recent disappearances at the Cortez, Mr. March being your prime suspect.

“Come in, dearest. You look wonderful.” He drawled, leading you into the all too familiar room, full plates of food and tall glasses of wine already ornamenting the long dining table. You thanked him, allowing him to lead you through the twice weekly routine: pulling out your chair, pressing a swift kiss to your temple and offering you a cigarette before skirting around the table to his own chair, the brush of his fingertips on your shoulder a cold, lingering touch as he moved away from you. “So, why did you call me here?” You enquired, taking a deep drink of your wine in the hopes that it would quell your nerves, your words presenting a feigned confidence. “Not that I mind, of course.” You adding quickly, causing James to smile softly as he glanced down at his food. Your own stomach growled quietly, the fragrance of the food beckoning; James never ate in your presence and out of caution, you didn’t dare touch the food either. “I just wanted to see you again, my apologies for any convenience.” He’s lying. You smiled pleasantly, looking down at your plate in faux flattery. “No convenience at all, James. You know I always look forward to our dinners.” Now who’s lying? You silenced your inner voice, taking another sip of your drink, utilising the opportunity to scan the room over the rim of your glass, looking for anything out of place that could potentially raise alarm. James never did anything without ulterior motives. That was something you had learned very quickly; he always had a reason for everything. James matched your easy smile, taking a swig of his own drink, some sort of liqueur. Strong liqueur, if the smell of it was any indication; he was always drinking but you had never seen the alcohol hold any effect over the man. You had always just written it off as high tolerance, but watching him now as he drained the remaining liquid from the glass before immediately filling it back to the brim, the ice softly clinking from within, it tugged at some part of you, willing you to question why. The room fell into awkward silence, your eyes flicking back to James as you lowered your glass, setting it gently back onto the table. He was already staring right at you, his eyes dark and gleaming with something you couldn’t place as they searched your face. You blinked at him, shifting slightly on your seat, his intense gaze unsettling. The corners of his mouth rose, almost as if he knew he was making you uncomfortable and took pleasure in it. “So, uh, you were telling the me other night about those hotel renovations. How are they going?” You took absolutely no interest in whether or not James recent renovations to the Cortez were going successfully or not, but asked anyway, if other to clear the awkward tenor of the room. “Progression is slow, but I suppose that perfection can’t be rushed.” He responded mildly, his eyes still trained on you. Clearing your throat, you nodded, your spine prickling in warning. Leave. There was no ignoring the voice whispering from the darkest pocket of your mind, not as James cocked his head, predatory intent settling over his pale features. Your stomach tightened to the point of pain, your eyes dropping in a vain attempt to avoid his vindictive scrutiny. “Well James, I appreciate you having wanting to see me this evening but I’m feeling kinda tired. Do you mind if I go back to my room? Sorry, I know I haven’t been here for long.” James’ mouth quirked upwards at your timid explanation, taking another long sip of his drink before leaning forwards, his eyes flicking down to the fist you had laid on the table before you, your fingers tight with stress. “Yes, I do mind.” Your mouth went thoroughly dry, your mouth parting in surprise. “I dismiss you. And I’ll be damned if I let you leave so soon.” All coherent thought cleared from your mind at his statement, his dark eyes filling with utter amusement at the mask of alarmed surprised that slipped over your features. “What do you mean?” You ventured, your feet shifting beneath the table, soles pressing firmly into the floor, readying to flee from the man if this interaction grew any more worrying. He seemed to blindly track the moment, his self-satisfied smirk only growing. “I mean, I’m not permitting you to leave yet.” He spelled the words out for you, taking pleasure in employing a condensing tone into his voice. Your spine straightened, your eyes flicking around the room to ensure that there was no one hidden within the dark corners of the space; James was an odd, eccentric man, his energy charged with a strange humour. But even for him, this situation was uncomfortably disarming. “You don’t get to ‘permit’ me to do anything.” You breathed, pushing back your chair slightly as you readied to stand, wanting nothing more than to be out of this room and away from the man before you. James sat back, his eyes twinkling in the light of the candles scattered across the surface of the table between you. Pulling the small silver case from his breast pocket, he flicked it open with a thumb, surveying you darkly as he took a cigarette and tapped it on the lid. A lighter appeared in his other hand, a spark flashing before a small flame sprung up; James lifted the cigarette to his lips, storing it between his teeth as he brought the flame up, a swift inhale lighting the cigarette. “You’re prying around my hotel. I would be inclined to argue that I can permit you to do as I please.” His words clanged through you. Prying.| Taking a glance to the side of the table, your eyes landed on the smaller wooden table beside the one you dined on; several platters, their contents spilled on the plates before you and James, resided on a silver tray atop it, but you didn’t miss the gleaming slice of the edge of a knife, almost completely hidden from your view behind a large bowl full of untouched buttered vegetables. Flicking your eyes away from the knife, careful to keep your possible intentions hidden from the sly man before you, you focused all of your attention on his predatory scrutiny, not daring to so much as shift under his stare. “I want to leave.” You stated firmly, growing increasingly anxious as to the real reason he called you here, and having absolutely no intention of staying in his presence long enough to find out. “You don’t get to leave until I dismiss you.” “Then tell me why you actually called me here.” You threw your words across the table at him without hesitation, every nerve in your body attempting to recoil from his dark gaze as his eyes widened with glee. “I have a sneaking suspicion that you already know full well why I called you here... detective.” You were on your feet the moment he uttered the first syllable of that condemning title, your chair falling onto the floor as you reached over the dining table, your fingers straining to reach the knife winking at you from the silver tray. The carving knife was as long and cruel looking as you had hoped it would be, a cool weight in your palm as you pushed away from the table, twisting towards the exit and preparing to step over your fallen chair. You squealed in surprise when, instead of meeting open air, you slammed into a hard, suit covered body, the knife in your hand tilting and driving up into his stomach; it was a reflex, a terrible, terrible reflex and your mind emptied as you stared at the hilt in your hand, already slick with hot blood, the blade fully submerged is his gut. Your eyes were wide as your gaze travelled up his body, his own already trained on your face, his head tilted to the side with what you could only describe as curiosity. You recoiled in horror, the edge of the table hitting the backs of your thighs as you released your hold on the knife, his blood running in hot rivers down your hand and wrist, dripping onto the tips of your shoes as James’ mouth curled upwards in a slow, predatory smile. “That was one of my favourite shirts.” He mused, gripping onto the simple handle of the carving knife and drawing it from his abdomen with a flourish. You gaped at him, rooted to the spot as the sharp intruder was removed from its burrow, expecting him to collapse to the floor as a torrent of blood spurted in wake of the knife. A multitude of questions formed on your lips as you watched him take a step towards you, frozen as he chucked the knife onto the table behind where you stood motionless with a loud clatter, his hand bloody. All words dissipated into the cold air as James reached up, looking right at you as he pulled his signature neck tie away from his throat, the fabric immediately drinking in the thick coating of blood on his pale fingertips. Ripping open the top button on his neatly laundered shirt with one hand, his smirk turned positively feral as your eyes widened, your jaw falling slack as you beheld the fleshy chasm marring the base of his pale throat, sinew and torn tissue exposed in a deep slice. “An admiral effort, darling. But you can’t kill the dead.” You lurched to the side, stumbling over the long legs of the capsized chair as every nerve in your body bleated in terror, urging you to put as much distance between you and the ghost leering before you as possible. The floor swooped towards you as you lost your footing, only just managing to recover before your body slammed into the soft carpeted ground. It took a matter of seconds for you to cross the room, your palms slamming into the surface of the door as you ran at it, unable to slow your momentum as you reached for the handle, wrists creaking at the impact. Pulling the door open, you threw a sparing glance over your shoulder, your racing mind slowing as you beheld James standing motionless where you left him, his bloodied neck tie discarded on the table as he placed another cigarette between his lips, watching you with an amusement disposition as he coaxed a flame from the lighter. Time seemed to slow as you turned back around, Sally appearing before you on the threshold of the room, her lipstick-smeared smile teary as she reached forwards, taking ahold of the side of your head and slamming it into the wall to your left with a savage force, hard enough to cause the world to slip away into blackness. 

Reality presented itself to you in throbbing waves, light infiltrating your lightly shut eyelids, coaxing you to stir with a small groan. Your allowed your eyes to open, trying to pull a hand to your throbbing temple; in your dazed exhaustion, your inability to move your hand failed to register as you forced your eyes open wider, the dim light of the room aiding in the slow process of pulling your mind back to full consciousness. James surveyed you from across the room as you stirred, the artful pleasure he took in having you at his disposal evident in the neatly tied ropes that secured your wrists to the centre of the dining table you had sat at hours earlier, your torso stretched to the edge of the table, your legs dangling freely off the side. He walked slowly to you as you turned your head, your eyes alight with terror as the brutal seriousness of your situation settled over you. James smiled warmly as you beheld him, hot, unrestrained tears already sputtering from the corners of your eyes as you watched him near, dressed in a fresh shirt, another necktie neatly secured around the base of his throat. You moaned in defeat as he paused by your head, taking a long pull on the old fashioned pipe clutched in his pale, slender fingers. You jerked away from him as he dropped his cold gaze to your face, physically recoiling from his stare and shifting on the surface of the table as far as the ropes would allow. “I’ve spent a long while thinking of what, exactly, I wanted to do to you.” You felt physically ill at his words, the pounding headache racking your temples doing nothing to soothe the sudden roils of nausea.  “But then I realised,” he began, his mouth quirking to the side as he leant down, running the tip of his finger down the side of your wet face from your ear to the sharp angle of your jaw, “why should I have to choose just one scenario?”  You willed your mind to fade back into unconsciousness, your mouth turning utterly dry as his finger completed its journey down the side of your face.  “You knew.” You groaned quietly, James’ eyes flicking from the exposed length of your throat to your lidded eyes.  James didn’t need an elaboration to know what you were talking about. “Of course I knew. I was made aware of your prying intentions from the moment that you stepped foot into my hotel.” His face blurred through your gathering tears, pouring down the sides of your face and disappearing into the wisps hair just above your ears. At your silence, he sighed, withdrawing his finger from where it rested on the line of your jaw, ensuring that his nail scraped against your soft skin as he did so. You flinched, looking up at his harsh face. “Aren’t you curious to know what I’m planning to do with you?” Your chin wobbled at his question, the hesitant shaking of your head in response worsening the pain radiating through your skull; your very scalp felt tight, with pain or fear, you could’t tell. Perhaps both. James tutted in disappointment, moving to sit on the table just above your head, your eyes straining to follow him as your chin lifted slightly, terrified to take your eyes off him for so much as a second. “Well, I suppose I can let you in on my plans. It’s not as if you have anywhere else to be.” He winked down at you, malicious cruelty twinkling in his eyes. He was toying with you, taking twisted delight in watching your eyes shutter with terror. “Cruel bastard.” You hissed quietly, shrinking away from him once more in regretful fear as soon as the words were spoken. “Yes.” James mused simply, taking another puff on his pipe, directing the exhaled smoke down at your face. “Yes, I suppose I am.”  He closely tracked the movement in the column of your neck as you swallowed thickly, a dim ache glowing in the back of your throat as you fought to keep your cries contained, a wave of sobs trying to claw their way out of you, threatening to spill over. “As I was saying.” He continued, his eyes locking with yours as he explained with brutal simplicity: “I intend in killing you first.” The air caught in your throat, your worst suspicions confirmed with condemning simplicity. But James continued, elaborating further: “As I’m sure you have come to realise, no one really dies in this hotel. Therefore, once I’ve taken your life, you will be unable to leave these grounds and your eternal punishment will begin.” The fruitful information that he had just provided you regarding the supernatural nature of the hotel fell deaf on your ears as his final statement settled over you. “No, James! Please. Please, I’ll leave. I’ll leave this hotel and not say a word, I swear.” He smirked in response to your frantic words, pulling a short, slender blade from his breast pocket. You shrieked, bringing your legs up onto the table and twisting your torso away from him, your eyes squeezing shut as his cold grasp settled on your wrist, holding your trembling arm still as he cut the rope securing you to the table in one smooth motion. One of your eyes cracked open hesitantly as he did the same with the second coil of rope, the two of you moving in synchronisation, anticipating one another’s next move as you pushed yourself upright, lurching forwards; James’ arms wrapped tightly around your torso, pulling you back to him before your toes could so much as skim the deep red carpet. A sob bubbled up from your chest as your body collapsed into his, your arms clawing at the hands he had secured around your waist in savage desperation, his lips moving to your ear. You stilled as his warm breath settled over the side of your face. “Plead all you want.” He sneered, his voice a low growl in your ear. “In fact, I prefer it.” You clenched your teeth, lunging forwards in his hold with a cry of indignation; it was an attempt made in vain, his hold was too strong. “Are you familiar with my black closet?” He crooned, taking immense pleasure in your futile struggling. Groaning despairingly, your head fell forwards as more tears built and spilled, staining your hot cheeks with salty streaks. “Let me show you. And then you get to make a choice.” James slid off the table, taking you with him, forcing you to stand and heaving your body across the room, through a small archway set into the wall and depositing you in the large room that served as James’ personal bedroom and living space. With a harsh kick to the back of your calf, he forced you deeper into the room, spinning you around to face him and gripping onto your jaw, forcing your head up and exposing the flesh of your throat to him. You reached up, hitting at his chest and clawing at his face. In his other hand, a cruel, curved blade was summoned into his grip, the metal cold as he pressed it to your throat. You froze, your breath catching as your eyes searched his, pleading silently with him. “It’s your choice.” He grunted, eyes bright with perverted excitement. “Choice?” You repeated on a stammering breath as he pressed the wickedly sharp blade further into he soft flesh of your neck, itching to rip into skin, to spill blood. James’ eyes flicked over your shoulder, an exalted smile curving his lips upwards as he applied even more pressure to the knife at your skin, his other hand coming to grip the back of your neck, pulling it towards the instrument at your throat. Small scarlet beads of blood appeared around the sharp edge, igniting a pyre of utter dread within you. You took a step back, James closely mirroring your actions, closing in on you. Heart hammering at his close proximity, you stepped back, again and again, your eyes frantically searching his, his own glowing in building excitement as he backed you to the wall. Your back bumped against the edge of the room, cruel amusement slipping onto James’ face. The wall behind you gave way slightly as he pressed you even further into it. “Excellent choice.” He uttered darkly, eyes flashing before he allowed the knife at your throat to fall to the floor, his hand coming to rest on your chest. Your brows furrowed, your relief at the removal of the blade at your throat short lived when he gave your chest a sharp shove.  The wall behind you parted entirely, James quickly driving you into very small, dark room, the air suffocatingly stale, his force on your chest causing you to stumble back. A blinding pain ignited in your lower back and you cried out, straining to push away from whatever was causing the pain. But James’ body proved an impenetrable barrier and he gripped onto your throat with both hands, driving you even further into the room. An ungodly scream ripped from your throat as the pain worsened, your insides bleating as they were unforgivingly torn through, bone splintering, skin ripping and stretching. James’ face was alight with perverted satisfaction, your shoulder blades hitting the wall behind you. Pain like you had never know radiated outwards from your centre, your hands falling to your stomach as more burning pain grew from the front of your abdomen, akin to the one at your back. James landed a harsh kick to the front of your thighs and with a sickening crunch, your full back collided with the wall, your mouth parted in a silent scream as the world spun, dangerously close to pulling you under.  You prayed that it would, begging the darkness to quell the unbearable pain radiating through every nerve of your body. Your hands fell onto something hard and slick with warmth. In the dark, it was almost impossible to make out what it was and the sickening spinning of your pain fogged mind only made it more difficult to decipher what you were touching. James watched on in eager delight, releasing his constricting hold on your throat, allowing your head to fall forwards. The world tilted on its axis as you beheld the impossibly thick wooden stake running straight through your stomach, your blood running off the dull end, it’s surface marred with deep gashes and bumps; it pried your flesh apart, your hands completely covered in the blood that ran in torrents down its length, dripping from the blunt tip and pooling around James’ feet. James leaned in as the corners of your vision began to fade, your body beginning to slump around the stake that held your upright.  You felt utterly numb, the pain dimming as the world was swept away. “Welcome to the Cortez.” He whispered, pressing a sickeningly sweet kiss to your temple before every sense of life slipped from your limp grasp, consciousness and feeling fading into blissful nothingness.

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler @liandav @tatesweaterweather @evanmybeloved @tatelangdonsupremacist @ikkleroniekins

#american horror story #ahs #american horror story fanfiction #ahs fanfic #american horror story fandom #ahs fandom #american horror story james march #ahs james march #ahs hotel #american horror story hotel #hotel #hotel cortez #james march #james patrick march #james patrick march x reader #james march x reader #evan peters #evan peters ahs #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters fandom #evan peters james march #jpm #american horror story season 5 #ahs season 5

[agustdakasuga]

Between the Bloodshed | Chapter 7

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

Going with your parents to an event, you didn’t think to meet some familiar faces there. And finally, the 7 boys get to see the family that you refused to speak about. 

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

The dreaded friday morning finally came. Your mother had spent the whole night before on the phone with you, squealing excitedly about the dress she chose for you. 

“I’ll see you tonight, Kookie.” You stroked his head, making sure the rabbit had enough food and water for the day. Adjusting your hair in the mirror, you cringed slightly at yourself, clad in a light blue sundress your mother always liked. You slung your bag over your shoulder and headed out the door. 

“Can I have a coffee to go, please?” You ordered. The maid bowed and scurried off to make your regular iced coffee order. 

“Woah.” Jungkook came down. 

“One word and you’ll be unconscious.” You grumbled. He choked, whistling innocently instead. 

“Have a nice day, agashi.” The maid placed your to-go container on the counter. You nodded your head and took a sip. When you turned to head to the front door, you saw 7 pairs of eyes staring at you. 

“What?” You hissed. 

“Nothing.” Taehyung shook his head. You rolled your eyes, walking to the front to wear your shoes. 

“I’ll be back tonight.” You mumbled, giving a backwards wave before leaving the house. Your father was already waiting by his car for you. You gave a small wave and headed over. Without a word, your father just gave an acknowledging nod and entered the car. That was your relationship, strictly professional. Frankly, you were thankful for that. 

“Your mom is very excited for you to visit.” He said as he started to drive. 

“I know. Work gets busy so it’s hard to stop by.” You shrugged, putting your seatbelt on. 

“This family seems well off.” He commented. 

“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard of them. They aren’t exactly hidden from public eye in terms of their achievements and wealth. 7 young men, rich beyond belief.” You scoffed. 

“I do know them, do you?” 

“I would like to think I do. Working for them has been a pleasure, so far. For young men, they keep things very professional.” You said. Your parents always tried to convince you to work in a normal hospital, they always believed your skills should be displayed for others to see. 

“You declined your mother’s invitation for that surgical seminar?” 

“She has other surgeons under her that are equally, if not more, qualified than me. It’ll benefit them better if one of them were elected to go instead of me.” You explained. Your father pursed his lips. 

The car pulled up to the house. It wasn’t a mansion but it was still a rather big property that your parents owned. 

“(y/n)!” Your mother ran out to greet you with a hug. 

“Omma.” You hesitantly wrapped your arms around her. She chuckled, pulling away as she held your hands in hers. Patting the back of your hands, she led you into the house. 

“You look healthy.” She complimented. 

“Thank you.” You gave a small smile. There was an array of dishes on the dining table, ready for you to arrive for a meal. You went to help bring the bowls of rice out. Even if it was awkward with your parents, it was nice to have a sit down, family style meal. Your parents sat opposite you, together, while you sat across the table. 

“The car will be picking us up at 7pm.” Your father said. You nodded your head, chewing the end of your chopstick to stop yourself from saying something you would regret. 

“Stop that, (y/n). It’s a bad habit.” Your mother scolded. You removed the metal from your mouth, picking the foods instead. 

“That’s a nice bracelet.” Your mother smiled. 

“Oh, yeah... Just a token gift from a friend.” You shrugged it off. Through the rest of the meal, you listened to your parents talk about what they have been up to at work, in an attempt to persuade you to work with them. 

“You didn’t accept my invitation for that seminar. It’s prestigious, (y/n), that’s why I want you to go.” Your mother said. 

“One of your surgeons under you would benefit better from it than me, omma. Besides, I’m under a contract to work with my client now. It wouldn’t be responsible of me to just leave for a two week seminar like that.” You scoffed, putting a scoop of rice into your mouth. 

"Have you spoken to your brother recently?” Your father asked. You shook your head. Your brother didn’t live in Korea, he lived in the UK with his family. 

“Well, he has been helping with a lot of big cases in the queen’s court. They may even fly him to the States to give a seminar to some prestigious universities.” He informed. 

“I see...” Your brother wasn’t a doctor like you but he was a big-shot lawyer that worked on tons of famous court cases. 

“He says he wants to visit in a few weeks. You should be here so we can have a nice dinner together. Jumin might want to have the baby here.” Your mother said excitedly. 

“Oh, really...” You weren’t really interested at the thought of your sister-in-law having her second child here. 

“And you can help too.” 

“Omma, I’m working, I told you. I can’t be here just to take care of her new born.” You sighed. You loved your sister-in-law but having to live in a house with her, her new born and your nephew while your brother is here, will be torture for you with your parents constantly telling you how much greater they are compared to you. 

RINGGGGGGG

“Sorry, work call.” You stood up and stepped aside to answer your phone.

“Hello?” 

“Am I interrupting? You just sound like you’re having the time of your life. ” 

“Ha... ha... sure. But no, you’re to interrupting, you called at the perfect time, actually. What’s up? Someone dead or close to being dead?” You asked. Jimin laughed at your joke. 

“Unfortunately, no. Yoongi hyung is complaining about pain so I just wanted to ask if there is anything I can give him.” 

“Well, considering my medicine safe keys are with me, there’s no much you can do. Oh wait, Jin has a spare set. You can get him to open it. Look for the green bottle labelled ‘Celebrex’ or celecoxib. Give him one and that should be enough until I come back tonight.” You instructed. 

“Wait, how come only Jin hyung gets to have a spare set of keys?” 

“As the oldest, I would trust that he is responsible enough to not have a feast with my pills.” You scoffed.

“I’m hurt that you don’t think we’re responsible enough.”

“That doesn’t make me feel guilty at all. Anyway, let me know how Yoongi is. For now, ask him to wear his sling.” You told Jimin. You wouldn’t mind Yoongi having to call you home to help him. 

“He’s still able to curse at us so we should be fine.” 

“Bummer.” You mumbled. With another laugh, Jimin hung up. You sighed, returning to the table. 

“Your dad just got called in for an emergency.” Your mother informed as she cleared up the dishes. You nodded your head, watching your father put his coat on and grab his work bag. With a small wave of acknowledgement, he slipped his shoes on and left. Your parents were both workaholics, they were always highly praised for their work ethics. 

“So, any partners yet?” Your mother asked as you helped her with the dishes.

“Omma, you know I’m not looking for anyone now. I’m very much involved in my work like you and dad.” You said. 

“But still, with our busy schedules as residents, your father and I were able to get married and start a family. If not, you and your brother wouldn’t even be here.” She let out a small laugh. 

“I know. But oppa already made you a grandma with Jisung (nephew), with another on the way. There’s no rush for me.” You shrugged. 

“It’ll still be nice.” 

“I’m gonna rest in my room for a little bit.” You dried your hands and headed up to your room. Conversations like these with your parents were just suffocating and tiresome. 

“I need to get out of this.” You changed out of your dress and slipped on some shorts with an oversized hoodie. 

BEEP BEEP

‘Jimin said you’re having the time of your life. - Hoseok’

‘Yes, I am. And are you supposed to be texting me when I’m off duty? A little unprofessional, don’t you think, Mr Jung? - (y/n)’

‘If you can do wellness checks on us, I can do it on you too. But if you need saving with a ‘medical emergency’ to come back to the house, I’m sure I can injure someone for you. Maybe Jungkook or Jimin can take the bullet. I’ll make sure it’s not fatal. - Hoseok’

‘It’s just visiting my parents. I think I can handle it. But I’m oddly touched that you’re willing to do that for me. Someone kissing a*s here? - (y/n)’

‘With you? NEVERRRRRRR. - Hoseok’

“(y/n)? I wanted to show you your dress that I picked out for you.” Your mother was at your door. Leaving your phone on your bed, you went over and opened the door for her. 

“Look.” She unzipped the cloth covering and revealed the dark blue dress that she picked out for you. It was off shoulder with a flowy skirt. 

“It’s nice.” You forced a smile. 

“I knew you would like it.” She grinned, patting your head. Going to your closet, she hung it up, digging through whatever shoes you had left behind to match the dress. She placed the shoes at the bottom of the dress. 

“I trust that you can do your hair and make up on your own?” She raised an eyebrow. 

“Of course.” You shrugged. 

“Tonight, it’s a gala event to celebrate the approval of a new health campus to be opened. Governors, sponsors and potential candidates for the board of directors will be attending. It’s a rather big event. A lot of big names will be there so naturally, a lot of press ” Your mother informed. You nodded your head, wondering if you would see 7 familiar faces there as well. 

“Your father is a potential candidate for the new psychiatric unit head.” She continued. 

“I’m sure he would love for you to be under him. He can definitely get you a good position under his team. Or you could be under my team when I make the move over.” She looked at you. 

“Wait, both of you are moving over to this new health campus?” You asked, completely ignoring her persuading you to work under them. 

“That’s the plan.” She shrugged. 

“But you’ve been with Korea University Hospital for like... ever. And dad’s already in the board of directors for Seoul Institute of Mental Health.” You frowned slightly. 

“Well, when a better opportunity comes up, means it’s time to move on.” Your mother place her hand over yours. 

-

You had done your hair, neatly braiding it and pinning it up. Sitting in front of your vanity, you did some light make up on your face, finishing off with some shimmering lip gloss. 

“Time to change.” You went to your closet and fished the blue dress out fo the cloth covering. You slipped it on, smoothing down the skirt with your hands and staring at your reflection to make sure that nothing was out of place. Your parents would want everything to be pristine for a good impression.

“(y/n)! Are you ready?” Your mother called. 

“Coming!” Picking up your shoes in your hands, you carried your small bag and headed downstairs. 

“I knew it was a good pick.” Your mother clasped her hands together with sparkling eyes as she saw you approaching. Even your father nodded in approval at your appearance. 

“Thanks.” You murmured. 

“Let’s go.” Your father held his arm out to your mother, who hooked arms with him, and walked out. You simply walked behind them silently. A limousine was ready on the drive way with a driver standing there, opening the door for the three of you to enter. You sat opposite your parents, your hands resting in your lap. Your fingers fiddled with your bracelet. 

“Sir, madam, agashi.” The car came to a stop. Through the tinted window, you saw a row of reporters ready at the entrance of the building. You took a deep breath as the chauffeur opened the door. 

“We’ll answer a few questions then head in. Just smile and answer things briefly.” Your father said to you. You nodded and stepped out. 

“Mr (y/l/n)!” Reporters called out. 

“Is it true that you’re a potential candidate for the new health campus’ psychiatric department?” You stood by the side, a small smile as your father answered questions. 

“Right this way.” The security cut off the questions after a few minutes. You let out a sigh of relief. 

“Let’s go say hi.” Your mother didn’t let you out of her sight, dragging you to meet old men that possibly decided her and your father’s future job positions. All you could do was smile and shake their hands. 

“(y/n), you remember Jaewon?” Your mother smiled, bringing forth a young man in a suit to you. You internally rolled your eyes, here we go. Every event you went to seemed to be a matchmaking opportunity for your mother. She would be very delighted to wed you off. 

“Jaewon?” You tilted your head. 

“He was in my cardio-thoracic team but went to the States 5 years ago for a partnership.” She reminded. 

“Ah, yes.” You smiled and shook his hand. You’ve seen him a few times. Your mother had even invited him over for a couple of meals when youw ere still living with her. 

“How are you, (y/n)? You look amazing.” He complimented. 

“I’m doing good, thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself. I’m glad you still speak Korean fluently.” You raised your eyebrows. 

“(y/n)!” Your mother sent you a disapproving look while Jaewon blinked but laughed, nodding his head. Soon, you saw your mother abandoning you to join your father, leaving you to converse with Jaewon.

“Where are you working now?” 

“Private.” You said, taking a glass of champagne and sipping it. Jaewon nodded his head. 

“Right, you worked with private clients right? As like their in-house, family physician. I know your mother told me that you weren’t comfortable working in a public place. So you turned down a lot of good job opportunities at prestigious hospitals.” Jaewon sipped from his own glass. You frowned slightly, what exactly was he hinting at? 

“What you hear from my mother is what she thinks she knows about my job. Anything to try and convince someone to persuade me to work under them.” You chuckled. 

“That’s not-”

“Sorry, may I interrupt?” A new voice came. There was whispers and murmurs around you. That voice was all too familiar. 

“I was wondering if I was going to see you here.” You smirked, turning around to face 7, all too familiar, men. Jimin winked at you while Hoseok flashed his blinding smile. Jaewon looked confused. 

“Of course we would be here. Sponsors are the main invited guests, you know?” Yoongi spoke first. 

“You know them, (y/n)?” Jaewon asked. 

“Know them? I live with them. Unfortunately.” You rolled your eyes. Jaewon’s eyes widened at your statement. Jungkook placed his arm around your waist, staring Jaewon down. 

“I told you about the touching.” You glared at the youngest, elbowing his ribs. Still, he didn’t lose his composure and just calmly moved away. 

“Well, bye!” Namjoon gave a friendly smile before pulling you away. You gave Jaewon a backwards wave, following the boys to another side of the room. Once you were away from most of the crowd, you let out a sigh of relief, shaking your head while the boys just gave you amused smiles. 

“When you said you had friday night plans, we didn’t expect to see you here, doc.” Jin smiled. 

“Let’s just say, I didn’t come here willingly.” You snorted. 

“Are your parents sponsors?” Taehyung asked. 

“No, they aren’t. They’re supposedly part of the new health campus’ head department team so they’re here to butter people up.” You crossed your arms. The boys weren’t surprised by how honest you were.

“But you look nice.” Jimin smiled. 

“Stop or I will stab your eye. Also, how’s the shoulder Yoongo?” You changed the subject. Yoongi shrugged his good shoulder and you nodded your head with a small smile. 

“(y/n).” Someone called. 

“Dad.” You turned to see your father. He raised an eyebrow and you sighed, walking over to him. 

“I didn’t know you were friends with our sponsors? They’re one of the new campus’ biggest sponsors, you know? Young entrepreneurs with big names.” Your father said. You shrugged. 

“I don’t know if I would call them friends. But they’re the clients I’m working with now. Honestly, didn’t even know that they were coming or that they were sponsors.” You blinked at him. Your father nodded, turning on his business smile before walking over to the 7 young men. They all shook hands with your father, exchanging formalities. 

“I had no idea my daughter was working for the family.” He laughed. 

“Yes, she’s one of our best employees. It’s a pleasure having her work with us.” Namjoon complimented and you mentally scoffed. 

“She could use that talent in a hospital but refuses, sadly.” Your dad joked and you rolled your eyes.

“Shall we get some food?” Jungkook offered. You nodded and headed over to the buffet table with him and Taehyung, leaving your dad to talk to Namjoon and the others. 

“This is boring.” Taehyung complained. 

“You would think that with how many events you guys have been to, that you’re used to all this. I haven’t been to many and I am.” You shrugged, picking up a piece of cheese and putting it into your mouth. Taehyung and Jungkook laughed, they knew you hated being here from the moment they saw you. 

“Shall we get out of here?” Jungkook wriggled his eyebrows. 

“I would actually like to live another day so count me out. I’m here only for my parents and I plan to see to that until the end of the night.” You stated. Taehyung handed you a glass of wine. 

“(y/n), I was looking for you.” Your mother came. You placed the glass down, stepping away from Taehyung and Jungkook. 

“What’s wrong, omma?” 

“You... know them?” She cast a brief glance to the two young men behind you, who had now been surrounded by other young girls that wanted at least half of the attention they gave you. 

“My current clients.” You shrugged. 

“I see... Only clients?” 

“Yes, omma. You know I don’t mix business with personal relations. Everything is strictly professional.” You assured her. She nodded her head. You couldn’t tell if she was relieved or disappointed by what you said. 

~~

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[chaotic-jjk-fiction]

The Surrogate: Nanami Kento x Reader x Gojo Satoru

Please be warned that this piece is 4.3k words

I am willing to write a part two if you guys like it 

TW: Pregnancy, Artificial insemination, Morning sickness, Surrogacy   

You were tight on money, you couldn’t deny that. Sometimes you had to pick between paying rent and eating, but that was just how it was living in Tokyo. You had just graduated from university last year, and finding work wasn’t easy. One night when you and your friends were hanging out and one of them jokingly brought up the idea of becoming a surrogate to make some money. You all laughed at the idea then, but a few months after that conversation took place you found yourself googling the surrogacy processes and the money that could be made. While surrogacy was not actually illegal in Japan but it was still frowned upon by many, however, this wasn’t going to stop you.   

Now you were filling out your application to become a surrogate mother. You went through all of the agency’s testing and formal legal work and they told you that they would notify you if you were chosen by a family. All you could do now was wait and see. You had almost forgotten about your application when you got an email explaining that you had been selected by a couple and that a meeting needed to be scheduled so that both parties could meet and decide if they wanted to continue. You quickly replied with all of the dates and time that worked for you and internally jumped with joy that things were actually working out, much quicker than you had expected. 

The meeting time was also set quickly and you found yourself growing nervous as the day approached and you had to remind yourself that this was no different from any job interview you had ever done. Finally the day had come and you were headed off to meet the family that you would potentially be carrying a baby for. You dressed in your best clothes and did your hair in a way that you hoped would impress them, you knew that if they were able to afford surrogacy, they were probably of high status. The meeting was at the agency and one of their doctors would be there to explain everything to both parties and help everyone feel comfortable. When you made it to the agency you were escorted into an office type room with a desk and three chairs. Two of them were closer together, and the third was more off to the side and you guessed that one was for you, and the other two were for the couple. You sat down in the chair off to side your hands folded in your lap as you looked around the room. You jumped when you heard the door open and you turned around to see two men enter the room. One man was obviously the doctor and the other one you assumed was the husband in the couple. The doctor went and sat down on the other side of the desk, and you stood up and bowed to the man in a tan suite. He was pretty tall, and you weren't going to lie, he was making you feel a bit intimidated. He bowed back to you. 

“My name is Nanami Kento” he said very formally, “Thank you for meeting with us, and I apologize that my partner is late.” You were a little taken back by how formal he was, but then again it was what you were expecting. 

“My name is y/n'' your voice wavered a bit, “and the pleasure is mine.” You two bowed again, and then he took his seat and you followed. There was an awkward silence in the air and you just tried to focus on your hands which laid in your lap and not the intimidating man sitting in the chair a little ways away from you. Five minutes passed before the door slammed open and you jumped in surprise, whipping your head around to see who had busted in. A man with white hair and sunglasses stood in the doorway. 

“Sit down” Nanami said in a stern voice, “your late Satoru.” The man in the door frame made his way over to the chair next to him and sat down before turning to you, 

“The name’s Gojo Satoru'' he stated and then turned back around to face the doctor. You were a little shocked, but you also turned back to face the doctor. You noted the wedding rings on their hands and you realize that they were the married couple that you would be potentially carrying a baby for. It made sense, obviously they couldn’t have a child together, and it made you hope that this worked out. The doctor soon began his speech on how surrogacy works, explaining  how you would be artificially inseminated with a semen sample that the men provided. You would then be monitored closely throughout your pregnancy and updates would be provided for Nanami and Gojo. They would pay any medical bills that were related to the pregnancy, and how the three of you could work out specific details on which doctor you would see and which hospital you would give birth as you pleased. You just sat there silently nodding every now and again to show that you were listening to what was being said. The thought of actually carrying a baby inside of you for nine months was intimidating, but you really needed the money. After the doctor had finished his part of the meeting he then opened the floor to questions and open discussion. You really didn’t know what to say, and you were glad when Nanami pulled out a notebook and began asking the doctor questions and taking notes. You felt so unprepared compared to them. After he was done interrogating the doctor, he turned to you and you panicked a little about what he was going to ask. 

“Thank you again for meeting us here today” he started off formally “Would you mind if I asked you some questions?” You nodded, 

“Of course not.” He looked down at the page of questions decide which one to ask first, before finally deciding to start with your relationship status. You explained to them that you hadn’t been in a relationship since you were in your first year of university. He went on asking questions about family history and health, and other stuff along that line, you answered every question to best of your ability. You noticed that his husband, Gojo appeared to be antsy and trying not to start bouncing off the walls. You wondered how these two had ended up together. After Nanami had gone through everything he had to written down, he asked you had any questions for them to which you responded, 

“I only have one,” you paused a moment before continuing “What brought you two to deciding that you wanted a child” Nanami looked back at Gojo before looking back to you 

“Well” he started before getting cut off be his husband 

“Because we work with kids all day and seeing them all grow up and mature makes me want to have a kid of my own to help grow and mature” Gojo exclaimed “Plus babies are cute as hell” You couldn’t help but giggle at his last statement, Nanami however just shook his head. 

“Ok” you said “So far I’m feeling good about going through with this. You two seem like a wonderful couple.” Both of them looked at you smiling, and a grin broke out on Gojo’s face. Nanami nodded in a very business like manner, 

“Before we sign any papers” he interrupted “We have a few terms and conditions” you smiled and nodded and he went on

“We would like to be at most, if not all of your ultrasounds” he explained

“I think that’s perfectly reasonable” you chirped 

“We would also like to see your living accommodations, we need to know that our baby is being cared for properly, even before they are born” you paused for a moment before answering. 

“That can be arranged,” you said slowly. And just you were signing the legal papers that set your fate in stone, setting a date to get inseminated, shaking hands with Nanami and Gojo, and then you were on your way back home.    

Your appointment to be inseminated at the clinic was fast approaching and you were a tab bit anxious, but you were also pretty giddy. You were happy that you could give such a sweet couple the baby they wanted. Some time passed, and the next thing you knew you found yourself seated in the procedural chair, your legs in the stirrups watching a doctor pull on gloves before she took the odd syringe with a long thin tube on it and held it up.

“Ok” she said “I need you to try and relax as much as you can and just take a deep breath. '' You did as she said and tried hard not to pay attention to how uncomfortable it was. She slowly injected the liquid, which you knew was sperm through the tube, and you found yourself wondering which man's sperm it was. 

“I’m all done” she informed you as she moved to clean up “We’ll be seeing you in a week to see if an egg fertilized” you nodded as you redressed. Two weeks and few days later you found yourself back in the doctors office with Nanami and Gojo waiting to see if you were pregnant or not. The room was tense as the doctor looked over your blood work in his hands

“Your hCG level is at 21” the doctor stated. All three of you were on the edge of your seats, “Congratulations. You're pregnant” he said looking from the paper up to you. She let out a sigh of relief, you felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. What you weren't expecting was to suddenly be lifted out of your chair and hugged, the action causing you to let out a squeak of surprise. 

“Put her down Satoru” Nanami commanded. You were then set down so that you were standing on the floor looking up at Gojo who had apparently been the one to pick you up. Nanami stood up and took your hand 

“I’m very glad that this worked out” he said a little stiffly “I look forward to what’s to come for all of us.” You nodded happily with a big smile on your face. He felt a smile tugging at his lips as he looked at your bright eyes and happy expression matching Gojo’s. 

“So, who is you obstetrician?” Nanami asked after the initial excitement had died down. You paused, looking down avoid eye contact

“I don’t have one” you said sheepishly. The two men exchanged glances before looking back at you, your head still down. 

“We can set an appointment up for you with one of our choosing if that’s alright with you” Nanami offered. Gojo quick budded in with

“And we’ll pay for it of course.” You looked back up at them, before you nodded

“That sounds great. Thank you so much”  

“It’s the least we could do” Nanami said with a soft smile on his face “You are carrying our child after all.” Gojo made his way to his husband's side and took his arm and pressed a soft kiss to kiss cheek. It made you happy to see the two of them so happy, you were feeling pretty good about your decision to become their surrogate. Two weeks later they called you to set up your six week ultrasound with a doctor they had picked in Tokyo, that when you looked her up seemed pretty high scale and you were glad you didn’t have to pay. All three of you set a date that would work, with the agreement that after the appointment they would come over to your house and check it out and you agreed. They also asked about how you were feeling so far, you explained to them that so far your breast had been pretty tender, you were definitely bloated, however, you hadn’t had any morning sickness yet. They seemed relieved to hear that you were doing good. You hung up after setting the date for your first ultrasound and the waiting process began again. Two more weeks passed until it was finally the day of your appointment. You had developed morning sickness around the middle of week five and you found it was mostly triggered by certain smells. Your breast, you were pretty sure had also gotten a bit bigger.

 You took the bus to the station closest to where the doctor was before walking the rest of the way to the building. You took a seat in the waiting room after filling out the patient intake form. It was a fancy office, that was for sure. Nanami and Gojo soon walked in and took a seat on either side of you so that you were in the middle of them, you felt so small. A nurse called your name and you stood up and followed her, the two of them close behind you. The room she took you to was pretty big, it had two chairs against one wall, an examination table in the middle of the room, and an ultrasound next to the examination table along with a rolling stool for the doctor. You laid down on the table as a technician put a little blue pee pad type thing on your thighs before pulling down your pants a bit and instructed you to pull up your shirt, which you did. 

“The gel will be cold” she warned you before squirting it onto your belly, it was indeed cold. She took the ultrasound wand and pressed it to your belly before starting to move it round, spreading out the gel. All three of you stared at the monitor with baited breath, and there it was, a fuzzy, little bean looking thing that was your baby. You looked over at Nanami and Gojo who were sitting in the chairs to see Gojo holding his husbands had tightly eyes wide looking at the screen. 

“I’m going to see if we can find the heartbeat now” she informed you. You looked back over to the monitor, watching the little bean. You watched as she moved the wand, and tapped some buttons, trying to capture the little beating heart she pointed out to you. You felt like you wanted to cry. You were actually carrying a tiny precursor to a human being, with its own, functioning, heart. There were a few more less enjoyable parts to your appointment, but you guessed you were going to have to get used to people looking at your “lady parts.” You walked out of the office with Gojo and Nanami at your side, Gojo was holding a file of your ultrasound, along with some pamphlets from the doctor about what to expect in the first trimester.

“Are you ready for us to go to your house?” Nanami turned to you and asked. You froze, you had completely forgotten that you’d agreed to that, you gulped, then nodded 

“I’m ready” you informed them. They led you to a car and Nanami helped you into it, although that really wasn’t necessary in your mind. You were surprised to find that the car had a driver, who was introduced to you as Ijichi Kiyotaka. He asked for your address and you gave it to him, although you felt embarrassed saying it out loud, and the silence in the car wasn’t helping. On the ride to your apartment you were seated in the middle seat, between Gojo and Nanami. About halfway to your house, Gojo opened up the folder and pulled out the sonogram pictures that had been taken, before going on a little rant about how cute they were going to be while looking at the image.   

Before you knew it, the car had pulled up in front of your hole in the wall apartment building and all three of you were getting out and making your way up stairs to your floor. The first thing the two men noticed was that the building didn’t have an elevator, that didn’t seem good as you would most likely have trouble with stairs later in your pregnancy, especially since you lived on the fourth floor. One they made it up to your unit you unlocked the door, but before opening you turned around to face them

“I apologize for any mess in advance” you said and then pushed the door open. All three of you took off your shoes before entering the actual living space. The thing that stood out most to them was how little furniture there was. You had a sofa and a coffee table in the small room, along with a bookshelf and a little rug but nothing else in your living room. The kitchen was practically non-existent. You had a fridge, a microwave, a rice maker, and a small gas stove next to an equally small sink. Nanami looked around skeptically and Gojo headed straight for the fridge, opening to find nothing but a few kinds of convenience store pickles. 

“What do you eat?” he exclaimed, obviously shocked at the lack of food, he then proceeded to go through the few cabinets finding a bag or rice and some instant miso soup mix. He looked at you in shock and you could feel your cheeks turning red with guilt. 

“Is this all you have?” Nanami asked, looking at you. You looked from one to the other, before letting your eyes rest on the floor. 

“Money has been tight recently,” you explained. Both of them looked from you to the other one, they seemed to reach a silent, mutual agreement before Nanami spoke. 

“You do know that this is not an ok environment to be pregnant in, right?” He looked genuinely concerned and it just made you feel so much worse. 

“I know it’s not ideal” you said, “but I can’t afford anything else.” There was a gap of silence until Gojo spoke up, 

“You could stay in our guest room” he exclaimed “we never use it, and it would allow us to keep an even closer eye on you” He was basically jumping up and down about his new idea. 

“I couldn’t” you stammered “I don’t want to impose on your life” Nanami thought for a moment before expressing his opinion. 

“Satoru is right'' he paused, “I would be better for you to stay with us, and it would be better for our peace of mind as well.” You were at a loss for words, could you really take their offer? Was that even an ethical thing to do? 

“Please” Gojo whined putting his face in front of yours. You took a moment before sighing 

“Ok” you said “it still doesn't feel quite right to me” you added. You looked from Gojo to Nanami, waiting to see their reaction. Nanami nodded, 

“I understand. But please do not feel as though you are intruding, we are welcoming you” he reassured. Gojo put his hands on your shoulder and pushed you forward from behind. 

“Go hurry and pack” he beamed, you staggered forward a bit before whipping around to face him. 

“Right now?” you gawked. Gojo just nodded and smiled before ushering you forward again. You looked to Nanami to see what he had to say. 

“I mean there’s no reason to delay your move” he remarked. And so it was decided, you were going to move in with them tonight. You went to your room and pulled out a duffle bag and began to pack the clothes you thought you would want most. Before you went back out to them, you also packed your favorite pillow and blanket, along with your toiletries. You made your way out back to the living room where they were still just standing in the middle of the room. Nanami took the bag, and Gojo took your arm, and you all walked back down to the car. Nanami placed your bag in the trunk and got into the car. The ride to their house was fairly long, and you found yourself drifting off, your head starting to fall on to Gojo’s shoulder. He just watched as you fell asleep, making no move to push your head off. 

“We’re here” Gojo announced, waking you up from your nap. You got out of the car and came face to face with an upscale apartment building the likes of which you’d never seen. You were in shock as they led you to the elevator and up to their floor, which you could only access with a key.

“We’ll make sure to get you a key tomorrow,” Nanami commented, before pressing the button for the fifth floor. You just nodded in awe. Once the elevator reached the fifth floor the two of them stepped out and into a little hallway type room with  the door to their actual apartment a few feet away. Nanami took out another key and unlocked the door, pushing it open to reveal a beautiful entrance room. You walked inside and took off your shoes before allowing yourself to step inside and marvel at the magnificent furniture and design of the living room. 

“Let me show you to your room” Gojo proclaimed as he took your arm and led you through the living room, which you could now see was connected to their kitchen, down a hallway and past a few doors before he stopped in front of one. He flung open the door to reveal a room as big as your old living room with a twin bed, a bookshelf, a dresser with a mirror, and a little sofa in one corner. The thing you found most amazing, was the huge window that allowed you to look out onto Tokyo. Nanami placed your duffle bag down on the sofa before turning to see you in a state of shock. 

“I hope you like the room” he said “your bathroom is right across the hallway, feel free to put your toiletries in there. Satoru and I’s bedroom is upstairs” You nodded at his words, internally screaming at the fact that the apartment had an upstairs. 

“We’ll leave you to get settled” he added “Please come out when you're ready and have some food with us.”

“Ok” you agreed and watched as the two men left the room, closing the door behind them. You flopped down against the bed and relished in how soft the mattress and sheets were. After just allowing yourself to process the events of today, you got up and started to put your clothes into the drawers before you laid your blanket and pillow on the bed. You took your toiletries out of the duffle bag and set them back down on the sofa, you then placed the now empty bag on the bottom of the bookshelf. You picked up the items off of the sofa and left your room and opened the door to a wonderful bathroom with a separate shower and bath so that one could wash off before getting into the tub. The toilet was also fancy. You put your bathing products on the shelves cut into the shower wall and set your toothbrush along other oral hygiene products and your hair brush into their respective places on the sink counter. After taking one last look around the room you made your way to the kitchen where Gojo was sitting on a high bar stool at the counter and Nanami was standing behind the counter cooking something. You took a seat one bar stool away from Gojo and looked at what Nanami was making. It looked like he was putting together rice with a fried egg, topped with, what you were guessing was salmon leftover from their dinner last night, and nori. It looked amazing and you were excited to be able to eat it, because, in all honesty, you were incredibly hungry. Nanami set a bowl in front of you along with a pair of chopsticks. 

“Itadakimasu” you and Gojo say in unison. You take your chopsticks, and pick up a clump of rice with salmon on it. Before you can place the bite in your mouth, you feel bile rising in your throat. You carefully set down your chopsticks and cover your mouth before hopping off the stool and speed walking to the bathroom where you promptly threw up the contents of your stomach. You looked up to see Nanami and Gojo standing in the doorway, a look of concern on their faces.

“I’m sorry” you apologized, your voice rough from the acid. You gagged again feeling more bile coming up your throat and you turned back to the toilet bowl and threw up once more. You were breathing heavy, your eyes were watering, and your face felt hot. It wasn’t until you calmed down a bit before you realized that Gojo was kneeling behind you with hand on the small of your back. He quickly supported you as you stood noticing how shaky you were. 

“I’m sorry” you apologized again, flushing the toilet. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it” Gojo chirped, “You're pregnant.” He helped you two the sink where you washed your mouth with mouthwash. You looked over to Nanami who was still standing in the doorway,

“Thank you for cooking dinner, I’m sure that it’s delicious, but right now I think I really just need sleep” you explained. He nodded in understanding

“Of course,” he said “I understand. If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask, Satoru and I will be staying up a bit later.” You bowed your head and thanked them again before going into your room, changing into your pajamas and laying down. You found it fairly easy to fall asleep thanks to how tired you were, and how comfortable the bed was.

#tw pregnancy #jjk x reader #nanami kento #gojo saturo x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen pregnancy

[ackerlert]

Sneaky Link

Pairings: Porco x fem reader x sugar daddy!zeke

Summary: University reader becomes Zeke’s sugar baby after meeting each other at her work, which is a stripper, ofc. Eventually develops a relationship with Porco Galliard, of whom Zeke employs ;)

TW: alcohol usage, oral (m / f receiving), food (icing) play, mirror sex, phone sex

You needed some money during college, and tutoring stupid high schoolers wasn’t making the bills. Plus, you couldn’t put up with their slowness one second longer.

When Sasha took you out for a night at the strip club to relieve some stress, her joke that you could always make bank shaking your ass for old men actually sounded quite appealing. It was a lot more fun than tutoring, anyways. 

Out of curiosity, you found yourself browsing the internet for openings at nearby nightclubs. Soon you were watching YouTube videos of strippers going through their daily routine, counting their tips, and describing their success in the industry. You were hooked.

You ask Hitch to take pole dancing lessons with you, and she doesn't suspect any of your true intentions, since this was on your bucket list of things to do together.

Soon you secured yourself a job at a local strip club. The first person you confided in was, unsurprisingly, Hitch. She was surprised you actually pursued being a stripper, but the shock didn't really last for long considering her knowledge of your freaky tendencies.

Hitch advised you to be careful, and she was particularly worried about how you would manage to fit this new job into your tight school schedule.

It was simple: you would take your classes, do your assignments, and report to your job at night. You’d work through the closing shift and get back to your shared apartment with Mikasa, Sasha, and Hitch sometime past 2am.

Zeke is a regular.

He gives you larger tips than any of the other girls.

He even pays for private sessions, which consist of you dancing for him mostly an hour at a time.

Eventually you two fuck it out in a booth of the club.

He asks if you'd like to “do this again sometime”. Naturally, you agreed. He exchanges phone numbers with you and asks for your cashapp. 

Blushing because you didn't realize he intended on compensating you for your arrangement, you agree to give him your account number.

You and Zeke continue this for a couple months, growing more addicted to the orgasms he gives you every time.

You had two generous sources of income now.

You found out a lot about zeke: he owned a decently large company, fucked a lot of women before he met you, and he was even more freaky than yourself. 

One day after a session with Zeke, you're sprawled out on the side of his bed, toying with the golden hair that trailed down his torso, and staring up at the ceiling, mind completely fucked out.

“I have a business event coming up soon,” Zeke states.

You hum in approval, not expecting zeke to continue on.

“It’s plus one.” He pauses, “I was wondering if you would like to join me.”

You turn your head to look at Zeke, almost asking him to repeat himself. Was this like a date thing?

Zeke turned to look at you too. His eyes glossed over at the sight of your surprised face and post-sex hair floating around the crown of your head. He smirked, visualizing the way he had made that sex hair. Gripping your h/c locks and pulling your head back, pounding into you from behind.

Your lips were swollen from being stretched around his thick cock, making him cum round after round. Now they were parted, unsure as what to make of his question.

Zeke repeated himself, “Are you free next Saturday?”

“Y-yes. I’m free.” You said, “I would love to go to your work thing with you.” A smile graced your lips. He fucking loved that smile. Loved seeing it bloom on your face when your eyes rolled to the back of your head, begging to take more of his cock.

“Alright,” he grabbed for his phone, pulling up the information from his calendar. Your phone dinged, no doubt zeke sending you over the event details. “It’s formal attire. Do you need to buy something to wear?” He glanced up lovingly from the screen at you for a mere second. “Fuck it, never mind that.” His eyes reconcentrated back onto the phone. Your phone dinged again, the familiar melody of the cashapp notification filling your ears.

“Let’s take you shopping, princess.” His legs swung over the side of the bed. A back completely full of endless scratches faced you while he stretched those long arms of his. His back muscles rippled as he did so, the sight making your stomach flutter with butterflies. 

“Wait!” You say desperately and propping yourself up on the bed. You didn't intend on opening your mouth, but now you had to commit to it.

Zeke side glanced at you, acknowledging your pathetic request.

“Let me suck you off one more time,” you said. You added, “before we go.” A husky chuckle escaped from zeke’s throat. “Such a slut for me.” “What a good girl, knowing just the way to make me hard.”

Porco and you meet each other at the business event, it’s an instant click. He’s employed by Zeke. Soon you're exchanging numbers with him.

These business parties became more frequent with Zeke. And every time, Porco was there. You two would sneak off to help yourself to drinks while Zeke was bombarded with potential buyers inquiring about his product.

Porco makes you laugh so much. Honestly, it’s probably the alcohol, but every joke he cracked earned a cute giggle from you. It only made him harder for you than he already was.

“I could go a lot longer than him, you know.” He whispers in your ear.

Sooner than later you’re texting Zeke that the alcohol was killing your stomach, and you just had to get out of there right away. 

Porco didn’t wait to stick his strong hands in your pants when you tumbled into the taxi.

“Gonna take you away from that old man’s dick, yeah baby? Give you this big cock like you deserve?”

You make it back to his large apartment, practically humping his clothed leg on the elevator ride.

By the time you’re inside his place, your panties are soaked and the black lace Zeke bought you is falling from your shoulders.

Porco throws you on the bed, not leaving you any time to remove your heels. 

He climbs over you and just starts completely obliterating you with open mouthed kisses across your collarbone.

You don't fail to notice the mirror above Porco’s large bed, seeing the way he straddles over your small body.

Porco sits up from his position on the end of the bed and grabs for your ankles, yanking you closer to him. Just as he hums into your folds, a buzzing emerges from your purse in the middle of the living room.

“Shit,” you say, recognizing the pattern as Zeke’s contact. “It’s Zeke,” you groan.

“Answer the phone, pretty girl.” Porco says with a devilish smirk.

“Wha-?!” Your face fills with terror.

“I said answer the phone.” Porco grows stricter in tone.

“O-ok” your hands shake as you make your way across the floor to where your purse was.” As you accept the call, Porco motions you back to the bed.

You nod, doing as he says.

“Hey princess,” Zeke says with a smile on the end of the phone.

“Hi,” you say shakily. Porco gives you a menacing look.

“Not feeling good?” Zeke refers to your text. 

You let out a shy “Nuh-uh” in response.

“I’m sorry baby,” Zeke says, “I can pick you up so you can spend the night with me in case you feel any worse.”

“No!-“ You say startled, “I mean, no, my girlfriends have me all bundled up back at my apartment.”

Silence from Zeke.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad.” He adds, “I wanted to make you feel a little better than they could tonight.”

You look at Porco, a little intimidated by his intense stare on you. He can hear Zeke’s toying with you from the other end of the phone. He nods, urging you to play along.

You giggle softly, a bad attempt at sounding sicker than usual.

“Really? How so?” Porco slides down the edge of the bed, focused on your legs.

Zeke clears his throat, obviously getting off at the anticipation of phone sex.

Some shuffling is heard on the other end of the phone before Zeke says, “You know, maybe cook you some food. That layered strawberry cake you like yeah?”

You hum in satisfaction, but quickly noticed how your approval angered Porco.

He aggressively pushes your legs apart, eyeing your wetness.

“Use that icing on you.” Zeke says, “Make you filthy when I run it over that pretty body of yours. I’d fucking lick it off you because you taste so good.”

Porco starts to kitten lick between your folds, earning a whimper from you.

You imagine Zeke piping the vanilla icing onto your torso as he pushes himself into you, smearing it across your breasts and stomach with his rough hands.

The pressure between your legs rises as the licks grow longer and rougher across your clit. Porco suckles on that bundle of nerves, and you can’t help but cry out a moan.

The sounds from Zeke’s side of the phone indicate he’s jerking off vigorously at this point. “Say my name, kitten.”

You look wildly down at Porco, who stops his motions to shake his head at you. No way he’d let you moan another man’s name on his own bed.

“Daddy,,” you drawl out. You earn approval from Porco, who resumes lapping at your pussy.

Porco taps your thigh, indicating to you that it was time to hang up on Zeke, who hadn’t cum yet. 

“Oh gosh, Zeke baby” you start, “One of the girls is coming in i have to go-“

“Wait, y/n-“ but you didn't let him finish. You sigh with relief knowing you can fully indulge in Porco now. He grips your thighs roughly, leaving bruises to be discovered tomorrow.

“What’s Zeke doing now, huh?” “Pumping his weak cock thinking about this tight little pussy of yours?” “I wonder what he’d think if he knew your pussy was taking my tongue so well right now. Acting like such a whore for somebody else.”

Porco pulls himself off of your sweaty body, panting and licking up your wetness. 

His eyes are dead set on you, and you felt small under his glare. His hands grab under your arms, quickly flipping your positions. “Bounce on me for it,” he growls.

You nod eagerly, situating yourself above him. Your face reddens as you align your entrance up to him, nervous about his judgement. 

Porco softens, noticing your hesitance, “It’s okay baby girl,” His warm hands caress the side of your cheek, thumb grazing your plump lips, “You’re doing really good,” Porco looks earnestly up at you, flashing you a soft grin. You press into his hold on you, strands of hair covering your forehead that tangled around Porco’s fingers.

You finally push yourself down on Porco’s length, his large girth stretching you full. Porco moans at the new feeling, and you can’t help but whimper at the burning pleasure. Your hands roam around Porco’s strong torso, feeling down his thick abs and rubbing circles into his sides. A low groan emits from his chest, and you admire his expressions from above.

You begin moving along his hard length, his tip hitting just the right spot each time. Keeping a slow pace, you tease Porco a little longer, but he’s quick to bark at you to go faster. You let out a playful giggle, “Okay, you’re the boss.” “Doing so good putting Zeke in his place, hm?”

Porco groans at your words, and you swore he was growing larger inside of you at the thought of demoting his Zeke.

Your movements quicken and Porco continues to let out strings of curses.

“Yeah ride my cock baby, just like that. Just like you do for Zeke.”

The thought of another man puts butterflies in your stomach, and you feel yourself falter. 

Porco doesn’t miss a beat, however. He quickly thrusts up into you, earning a gasp from your mouth. His hands fly to your sides, balancing you while he does all the work. You whimper at his rapid pace, nearing your climax.

“Porco,” you moan, “I-ah, g’nna cum.”

“Ok, baby,” he says in between thrusts, “Cum then.” 

That was all you needed to hear before spilling your release over Porco.

He continued to milk you out, eventually finishing not too long after. He lets you fall on top of his frame, palms rubbing circles into your and easing you from your high.

“Good job, y/n.” You lift your head up to look at Porco’s face. He smiles back at you tenderly. “Alright let’s clean you up.” 

He settles you on the bed next to his side and slides off the bed to grab a clean towel from the linen closet and discard the condom in the trash. You watch his muscle-y body move across the apartment floors, his clear focus on grabbing the right things for you. 

He comes back with an iced water and starts cleaning up your thighs. 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you smile, “I can do it myself.”

He looks up at you, eyebrows screwed up in confusion, “What? No, I’m doing it.” He continues his work at cleaning you off. 

“..oh, ok.” You say shyly, butterflies in your stomach from his actions. 

“Does he not do this for you?” Porco asks, not looking up from fixing up the sheets below you.

You replied slowly, “No, not really.”

Porco sighed, “He’s such a selfish dick.”

You laugh at Porco’s attitude. But now that you think about it, Zeke was always thinking about himself. The thought passed as soon as it came, and you did consider the fact that he was paying you.

Porco nestled himself on the side of you after he was done, grunting a little from his tired state. His big arms hugged around your smaller body as he pulled you in close.

“Porco?” You called.

“Hm?”

“Thank you,” you muffled into his chest.

Porco blushed at your comment, but simply toughed it over and patted your ruffled hair, “Mhm”.

A few pings were heard from your cell phone as you drifted into sleep, no doubt from Zeke, and each time Porco pulled you in tighter. A smile curled crept onto your lips, “It’s not like I’m gonna leave, Pokko,” you giggled.

“Good,” he said, “I wasn’t planning on letting you anyways.”

#zeke jeager #zeke jaeger #zeke yeager #zeke yaeger #zeke #zeke smut #zeke x reader #porco galliard #porco #attack on titan porco #attack on titan zeke #porco smut #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kiyojin #snk #attack on titan smut #aot smut

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 29 - No Sound but the Wind

Masterlist; Chapter 28

Summary: Stalsk-12.

Warnings: Angst™️, swearing.

Author's Notes: Here we are... at the end of all things. My take on Stalsk took a lot of pain and time to figure out and actually write down so I hope it will be satisfactory. As usual, thank you Shet, for life saving diagrams and patience, as this wouldn't be possible without you.

Still probably 2-3 chapters to go so we're not quite at the end end just yet 😅 With that said, this chapter is as much a finale is it could be. Do hope you'll enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated!

Waking up on the morning of the battle was strange. After the group conversation on the bridge, you and Neil collapsed into the bed, falling asleep instantly. The dreamless night was a welcomed surprise, and so, when you finally resurfaced on the side of consciousness again with the phone alarm ringing in your ears, you felt kind of rested. With the tight schedule, you took no liberty in wasting minutes cuddling and promptly got up, with Neil asking you to join him in his cabin in a quarter for the suiting up. There was no chance in hell you would refuse that.

It was once he left, after a kiss and quick reassurance that somehow it would be alright, the reality dawned with full force. Anxiety settled in your stomach, the nauseous feeling growing with every minute. A strange ache in your right shoulder, radiating down the arm, adding to the rising pile of questions. And doubts. At the edge of your consciousness, a festering thought that would not disappear. What if… what if? The question too terrifying to name, let alone answer.

Desperate for a distraction, you looked outside at the blue skies dotted with clouds, painting a contradictory image to the inside of your mind. At least you didn’t have to worry about the inverted rain… Sighing, you took one last look at the right shoulder and massaged the area with a frown permanently etched onto your face. Maybe it was nothing. With the time nearly running out, you quickly grabbed the battle gear and left the room.

As expected, the suiting up with Neil proved to be the distraction you needed. The moment he opened the door for you, wearing nothing but dark green combat trousers and a matching fitting long-sleeved shirt, your jaw fell slack. Somehow, out of the mess in your head, the only thought that survived was the attraction towards him. Because he looked very good. The shirt complimented his upper body in all the right places, making your eyes widen, overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings. The unbelievable luck and the gravitational pull that always pushed you towards him. And not without reason. Neil instantly caught your wandering gaze, took your hand in his, and pulled you inside the room, letting the door close behind you. The clueless look, checking your sanity from up close, before he asked:

“Why are you staring at me like that?” running a hand through his hair, making the strands stick up in every direction.

Adding to the charm. Stifling a groan building up in your throat, you placed the clothes on the empty chair before turning to face Neil again. Utterly perplexed in his dark green outfit. Stupidly hot. Just… fuck it.

“Because I can’t believe how attractive you are,” stating the truth felt relieving, but still like an understatement, “Like- my god, I-” you huffed, annoyed at both him and yourself.

Passive aggressively, you took off the shirt and pants, taking fleeting pride in how Neil seemed transfixed as well, watching your every move with fascination. Yet, it was much easier for him to shake off the mood and grab the holster. The brow furrowed; coherence lost:

“Seriously?” he was looking at you as though you have lost your mind, thoughtlessly fiddling with the thigh holster.

It was the glimmer of uncertainty that you noticed in his gaze that made you push forward. In any other moment, you would have backed off, pretended the exchange never happened, or responded with a joke to change the subject. But faced with the slightest potential that Neil could be genuinely doubting your claim, embarrassment and pride had to be abandoned. You quickly buckled up the trousers and took a step closer, taking a long look over his body. Your eyes were instantly drawn to all the details that never failed to make you want him. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you nodded:

“Yes. Being this fit is unprecedented,” grinning, you took in his stunned face, letting the frustrations and feelings lead the speech “It’s those broad shoulders and the narrow hips that always distract me when you’re wearing shirts,” letting your fingers skim over his chest and down the stomach in appreciating strokes “Long legs with those thighs… Darling, you’re making that holster look almost illicit” you eyed the accessory encircling his upper thigh with unhidden hunger, the tip of your tongue poking out to deliver the punchline “And let’s not even get to the best part because you know what I think about it” settling your palms on his hips, you grinned wickedly, meeting his gaze.

“What?” Neil swallowed hard, his hands instinctively wrapping around your waist.

Still so adorably confused. But now, you could notice the faint flicker of gratitude. And amusement. Might drive the point home then…

“Always knew you’d be a spectacular lover, but Jesus Christ… you’re making me regret half the times when I said no to you before” brushing over his backside and pulling your lower bodies flush together, you teasingly slipped your thumb underneath his shirt.

Taking immeasurable joy in the shallow gasp, he let out upon the simple action. You observed as he slowly shook himself awake, blue eyes searching yours, and then a hand raising to cup your cheek, tenderly brushing over the skin:

“What’s gotten into you?” the outpouring of affection waking up the butterflies in your stomach “Not that I’m complaining, though,” he shrugged, the slight concern tinted with happiness.

With your brain eager to remind you about the terrifying reality and the spikes of pain pulsing through your right shoulder, you chose to dive headfirst into the feelings warming up your chest. You shrugged and covered his hand with yours:

“Adrenaline fucked up and activated the wrong part of my brain. I’ve no clue,” your lips twisted in a hesitant smile, “But I want you, and that’s that” with the free hand, you traced the outline of his jaw.

Running over the stubble on his chin and the fading bruise underneath his ear, light blush spreading over your cheeks at the memory connected to it. It still felt strange sometimes to be this open with him. To speak your mind without fearing rejection or ridicule. To know that the sentiments were reciprocated with equal strength.

“Can we move that to after the battle?” Neil wrapped his arm around your waist, searching your face for clues, “Because now… now I just want to hold you. Kiss you, maybe” the timid whisper tugged at your heartstrings as he ran the pad of his thumb over your lower lip.

A familiar gesture, sparking up the fire and asking for consent. As if he still needed to.

“Maybe?” you arched an eyebrow, latching onto the word if only to make him smile.

Neil grinned, happiness radiating from his gaze as he tipped your chin upwards, syncing up with how you rose on your feet to meet him halfway.

“Certainly,” the murmur laid to rest on your lips.

The slow, gentle kiss, beginning with the tenderest of touches, his lips gliding over yours, carefully igniting the flame. It was as though he wanted to commit it to memory, softly drawing out sighs from your throat with the delicate pecks and ghostly brushes. The texture of his lips getting imprinted on yours, the taste of his kisses becoming a permanent memory. The hints of Earl Grey tinting the tip of his tongue as he finally deepened the kiss, trailing along the outline of your mouth and slipping inside to give you the necessary fix. You tangled your hand in his hair to bring him closer and to feel the strands between your fingers. Running out of air, at last, you withdrew by a millimetre and smiled against his mouth, giving in to the chaste pecks, extending the contact even if for a second. Neil grinned back, his thumb caressing your cheek in soft strokes, eyes showing everything you should need to know. The intimate moment awash with affection, adding meaning to the scene. Holding his gaze, you made sure to return the sentiments with equal strength before you leaned back and took in his lovesick expression.

“Don’t worry, I’ll address all of what you said later… Because I’m flattered” Neil broke the silence at last with a glimmer of gratefulness shining through the blue irises.

You grinned, allowing yourself a rare dose of hope for that later. May it come. Sending silent prayer to whatever god could be listening, you brushed away the hair from his eyes before responding:

“Good, because I meant it,” your eyes roaming over his face, admiring the striking features, “You handsome bastard,” the nickname coming out without hesitation.

How very fitting. Your grin only getting brighter when you saw Neil’s double-take, eyebrows scrunching up in confusion once more, only to be replaced with an uncertain head tilt and a thoughtful pause.

“… that sounded way too enticing than it should’ve,” he admitted finally, drawing you closer with his hands on your hips.

Confirming the sentiment, he licked his lips thoroughly with the gaze focused on your mouth. Bingo. Unable to stop the smug smile from spreading on your lips, you suggested an answer to his predicament:

“Maybe that’s just because I said it,” the rare rush of confidence and pride spreading blush on your cheeks.

Once more, you were separated by a breath of space with your lower bodies flush together. That impeccable pull, doing its work as usual as you felt his breath ghost over your lips. Then Neil smiled, confirming the beliefs with a simple statement:

“Yes, that too,” another kiss shutting down the worries and strengthening the feelings.

It only took three more before you continued with the suit up. To prevent distractions, you settled on the opposite side of the cabin, slowly assembling the military outfit, the silence occasionally interrupted with comments. It was once you have adjusted your thigh holster and slipped in the faithful Glock that the reality has once more dawned on you. You were about to head into a battle. An actual, large-scale battle, on the Siberian steppes, armed with nothing but a handgun and rifle. And Neil, both the protector and the protected. Not that it made any sense.

Sighing at the mess of thoughts in your head, you turned back to the man in question, observing him for a moment. He was busy packing the military backpack with the needed supplies, half-dressed in the top layer of the suit. With the hair grown out and the slight stubble on his chin, the outfit gave him the ‘rough mercenary’ look that could not help but quirk your lips in a tiny grin. Luck, and all that. As your gaze fell on the dark green backpack, your eyes got caught by a pendant attached to the zipper. With the curiosity piqued, you crossed the space to see the trinket, asking the question in the process:

“What’s that?” tenderly, you reached out to touch the pendant.

It was a vintage coin from India, attached to the zipper with a red and orange piece of yarn, washed with the years of use. Upon your innocent question, Neil let out a long exhale. Nervous. Perplexed, you glanced at him, immediately noticing the shy smile and hesitant gestures. Running a hand through his hair, he finally strung together a sentence:

“I… uh, that’s something Alex gave me and I- I can take it off if you-” stopping the panicked ramblings, you placed your finger upon his lips.

Idiot. Smiling gently, you let go of the trinket and took Neil’s hand in yours, slowly rubbing out the tension and cherishing the feel of his palm in yours. There were no doubts as towards what you had to tell him in response to something this outrageous.

“Neil, why do you think I’d want you to get rid of that?” you watched as he struggled for an answer, the adorable pinkish tint darkening his cheeks, “I’m glad you had him. And that he was lucky to have you” as his eyes turned glossy, you swallowed the sudden rush of tears and added “I can only hope I’ll be fortunate enough to have you for the rest of however much have we got” the uncertainty creeping in, forcing to add the necessary disclaimer “If you’ll-”

If you’ll want me for that long. But you never got as far as telling that. Neil closed the gap, pulling you close with cheeks wet with tears and eyes full of inexplicable emotions:

“Shut up” he brushed his nose over yours as a prelude before covering your lips with his in a kiss.

A hungrier one this time, a way of returning the feelings you have poured into your words. His teeth grazed over your lower lip in a familiar expression of passion. In response, you could only draw him closer, sighing when the salty tears tinged the contact with boundless weight. Somehow you knew that whatever would happen beyond this moment, the love you had was real. Probably the only genuine feeling you ever had the luck of experiencing. With the realisation fresh on your mind, you could only whimper quietly when Neil broke the kiss at last and pressed another to your forehead. He kept on holding you close as though worried your time was running out. Overwhelmed with the conflicting emotions, you reached out to brush away the evidence of his tears, caressing his face in a dream-like daze. Finally, he broke the silence:

“Never thought I could love someone that much again, but there we are. And you know what?” the happy smile contrasted how his eyes glistened with melancholy, “I like it,” you mirrored the grin, letting the blue of his eyes pull you under “Emotional compromise has never been this tempting” reference to the nightly conversation making you giggle.

A perfect opportunity to lighten up the moment and shake off the premonition shadowing your every gesture and word. Distractedly, you placed your hand over his beating heart, glancing up at him with a playful smirk:

“Does your gob just like… never run out?” Neil’s grin widened, your interference doing its magic, “I’m impressed,” as a confirmation, you patted his shoulder humoredly.

Neil shrugged, the look in his eyes clear: you knew what you’re signing up for. And you did. Frankly, you would not have it any other way. No matter the consequences or the future. Love is merely a madness, after all.

“And I-” when Neil spoke again, you could tell what was coming.

Getting into the temptation (and because you haven’t said it in an hour), you interrupted him with your confession:

“I love you. I know,” a smug smile splitting your face once more upon seeing his reaction.

The eyes widened for a split second, furrowed brow and lips open in a gasp. Before Neil somehow became even more beautiful as the morning light lit up the joyful glimmer in his eyes. The hair caught on the golden fire, giving him the look of an angel that has fallen straight from heaven. And was yours, for some unknown reason. Your affirmation added a spark of confidence to his expression as he thanked you for it with another breathless kiss.

The rest of the dress-up continued in that manner, often interrupted with kissing, hugs, and banter that seemed to wash away the fears. Even if only for the moment. As you adjusted the bulletproof vest and made sure the front pocket was full of the extra magazines, you checked the time. A little too tight, considering you were yet to assemble the oxygen tank and prepare the rifle. Looking up, you met Neil’s attentive gaze as he was shamelessly staring at you. For a second, you could tell that you were both considering never leaving the room and ignoring the reality. Just saying ‘fuck it’ to the universe and abandoning the post for whatever cost to never let this moment end. But it had to. The mirroring mournful smiles on your faces contrasted with the desperate hope you tried to hold on to. Finally, without breaching the gap, you remarked quietly:

“We should move, or else they’ll leave without us” a meaningful look at the window.

Yet without urgency present in your heart. Because you did not want to go. Not at all.

Neil could easily read the sentiment from your face, for he picked up the remaining parts of the equipment and asked:

“Do you think there’ll be bears?” the innocuous question dropped with the needed effect.

A distraction. A way of making the exit easier for you.

“… what?” staring at him with confusion written all over your face, you gaped.

Beloved idiot. He grinned, taking that one step closer to brush away the hair from your eyes with extra care.

“You know, bears, Siberia… Rasputin?” his lopsided smile adding the punch to the ridiculous statement.

And then, just as you were sure the situation would not get stranger, he started humming. Boney M. Rasputin, naturally. You groaned, pondering life decisions. Seduction through talking absolute nonsense and humming Boney M? Sure, why not. Ignoring the urge to facepalm, you let the amusement and bewilderment spill through the glare you gave him. He shrugged in response. Another message easy to understand: your idiot. Taking his hand in yours, you decided to play along:

“I don’t think it’s that sort of Siberia,” you frowned, looking for the correct metaphor, “Think more like… Chernobyl, graphite, and radiation poisoning. Inverted, at that” wincing at the mental image, you squeezed his palm.

The quiet reassurance complementing the silent conversation. All that you did not need to say but knew anyway.

“Inverted Chernobyl?” Neil met your absent gaze with a laugh reflected in the blue irises.

The laughter never felt this important before. Clutching his hand tightly, you collapsed into his arms. A few minutes of delay wouldn’t hurt anyone.

***

If anyone later were to ask you how the briefing looked like or about the specifics of what you did before boarding the container attached to the chinook, you would not know what to tell them. As though in a dream, you attended the meeting led by Wheeler and crafted to fit the needs of the Blue team, registering half of what was said. You had the plan for your unit memorised, and that had to be enough. Rest was up to fate. With the pain resonating through the shoulder and the suffocating anxiety making a home in the pit of your stomach, Neil’s presence right next to you and his hand resting on your thigh mattered more than usually. You had a feeling he knew, shooting you worried looks now and then and focusing intently on Wheeler at the same time. As though he knew that he had to be the strong one. The leader. You could only hope that you would not disappoint him or fuck it up. After all, the fate of the world was a pretty crucial cause to fight for. Even if your world has shrunk to that 1,85m, blue eyes, and dyed blonde hair. Fighting for your future together was good enough, too.

You settled on the bench in the blue container, struggling to find the air to breathe in the cramped space, weighted with the fears and the suit covering every inch of your skin. As the chinook rose and the wind shook the container with force, you strengthened the hold over the helmet resting on your lap and screw your eyes shut. The throbbing sensation in your arm only seemed to get more prominent with every passing minute as though sensing that Stalsk (and whatever awaited there) was getting sooner for you. Trying to keep the mind at bay, you went over the plan once more. The bullet points straightforward enough to be recited like a prayer: upon the landing, exit the container and run towards the epicentre, following Neil; stay out of trouble; enter the dead-drop chamber with 5 minutes to spare (ideally); cover Neil as he deals with the lock; leave and arrive at the drop off zone in time to come back. Simple, right? You glanced at the watch on your wrist. It already felt like ten minutes from the explosion will not be enough. Because what if you were stopped? What if something went wrong, and you will never make it to the lock? What if you mess it up by letting nerves take over everything else? What if something goes wrong?

With the questions multiplying at an alarming speed, you quickly found yourself struggling for breath. The mask and the constant rattling of the packed container were not helping. Shit. A louder gasp was unnoticed by everyone but the man to your right. Neil turned on the bench in a second, scanning your face for the obvious signs. As your wild, panicked gaze met his, he tilted your chin firmly:

“Hey, hey,” the gentle whisper urging you to focus on him only “Look at me” he searched your eyes for something and then asked, “What’s wrong?”

It was that patience and kindness that always got you. No matter the circumstances or the advancement of your relationship, Neil always reacted with the same gentleness. And that was both the reason to love him and to be disappointed by your inability to keep it together.

“Sorry, it’s just nerves… and… fuck, I’m sorry” stumbling over the words, you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, betraying you “You need me, and I’m already fucking it all up by being too weak-” your rant was gathering speed, stopped only by Neil.

“If it wasn’t for the bloody oxygen masks, I’d make you shut up now,” he sighed with exasperation, eyes glancing at your mouth to point out the true meaning of the sentence “Stop it, give me your hand” obediently, you let him entwine your fingers “Actually, I’d be a little worried if you weren’t scared. But we’ll manage because it’s us. And there’s nothing we can’t do” the words spoken with confidence you could only dream of having “Do you trust me?” he asked the question with startling resolve in the blue eyes.

Despite the mess of thoughts, the answer was too easy.

“With my life,” you squeezed his palm for comfort and added, “And heart too, apparently” a sheepish shrug to complete the confession.

But is it still a confession when it’s glaringly evident? Talking with Neil like this with the troops all around and the chinook’s rattle overhead, everything felt surreal. But it did not seem like anyone noticed your ‘heart-to-heart’. Thank fuck.

Neil did not seem to mind, staring at you with that familiar affectionate glimmer in his eyes. He brushed his thumb over your knuckles, soothing the anxiety and reasserting his presence.

“I’m glad because I kind of need your heart to pull this off,” he grinned, the sudden tentativeness endearing and distracting you successfully “Because this way I know that it’s all worth fighting for” locking your eyes with his, you somehow knew what was coming “Do you remember the promise?”

Of course. It was not as if you spent many hours thinking about it. And praying that you will never have to break it.

“Yeah, I… I hope it won’t come to that” the careful answer to make sure he would not catch on to your doubts.

And the countless plans you have made in the quiet of your mind. Just in case.

“Me too, but if- If it’s me, or you, I’ll always choose you,” the simple statement made the breath hitch in your throat.

As did the look in his eyes, assuring you that he meant it. Boundless love, pouring out of every glance and expressed through the firm hold over your hand. There was no escaping it.

And I, you. The answer unspoken; whispered only to yourself. And that had to be enough.

***

The moment of quiet did not last long. Soon after your conversation ended, the wind picked up, increasing the shaking of the container. Even without windows, you could tell that you were getting closer. After another violent jolt, Wheeler stood up, holding on tightly to the railing overhead:

“We’re coming in on the shock wave,” her voice rang out loud and clear, “Hold on, people!” with the warning, you strengthened the hold over Neil’s palm and used the other to tighten the seatbelt.

You tensed, body preparing for the impact and everything else that could come after. As though following your instincts, you turned to Neil at the exact moment he glanced at you. Your gazes locked as the chinook flew through the explosion shock wave, eliciting gasps from the troops and increasing the feeling of doom. The only anchor, the blue eyes gazing back at you with love and determination, were a perfect place to wait for the landing. You kept on staring, letting yourself find a piece of hope in his face and knew Neil was doing the same. But the time was already running out.

Two minutes later, the blue container touched the ground with a thud giving you the signal to stand up and prepare for the charge down the ridge. You fastened the helmet and prepared the rifle, ready for the strike. As the doors opened, you got struck with the piercing light outside. The area was covered in the sandy steppe, the ruins of the city littered with crumbled grey buildings and blocks. The blue skies, giving nothing but a contrast to the scene with its startling serenity. As Wheeler gave the Blues signal to begin, you followed the troops, running out of the container and down the steep ridgeway, instantly noticing the hundreds of mercs in your way. Inverted, normal. Everything the hell had to offer. You could see the Reds fighting them off, trying to create a safe passage for the splinter unit. Before it began, one final thought resonating through your head – you never even got to say goodbye to TP. It felt strange. And yet.

You did not have much time to process the realisation as Neil tugged at your hand in a clear signal: C’mon. You followed him down the hill, rifle comfortably placed on your shoulder to allow easy aim if needed. 9:35. The bullets were wheezing past, inverted, and normal. An additional level of chaos was introduced by the crumbled buildings, flying upwards in denial of physics. That’s what the training was for. Focusing on staying alive and relatively unharmed, you swerved between the rocks and walls, eyes open on those that behaved differently. Rounding up the corner of one derelict building, Neil pulled you to crouch as he scouted the horizon for obvious traps. The construction acted as a hideaway, giving you a moment to catch the breath burning your lungs and give the legs a millisecond-long rest. The ringing in your ears seemed permanent as you stared at Neil, awaiting instructions. 8:00. The blue digits on the watch speeding up the pounding heart. After too long a pause, you asked:

“Are we clear?” your voice wavered, showing the anxiety brewing underneath.

“One second” Neil glanced at you before going back to risk assessment.

You tensed, closing your eyes for a split second to ground within the moment. To find clarity in the chaos of the battlefield. A breath in and out. Hand tightening the hold on the rifle. The other was squeezed by Neil. The sign to sober up.

“Go” your eyes shot open as he whispered the command.

Without a second of hesitation, you leapt up, turning around the corner and running straight towards the bunker. You could hear Neil following close, the sounds of your footfall the only noise you allowed in. And then the third one joined. Startled by an explosion nearby, you looked to the right in time to see a merc running in your direction. Inversed, luckily. He was too close to use the rifle, and so you faced him for combat. A kick there. A backhand to weaken the enemy. Adrenaline rushing in your veins as you successfully brought him to his knees. Now it was just the question of pulling the trigger. The shot echoed in the space as he fell on the ground with a thud. It never got too easy. Stifling a heavy sigh, you only managed to turn on your heel when Neil’s yell broke the silence:

“Watch out!” you saw the worry in the blue eyes before the world turned upside down.

In a flash, you heard strange noises coming from the rumble laying all around. There was no time to jump to the side as the stones flew up. A piece of rock hit you in the shoulder as another large boulder made you trip, landing face down on the ground. Fucking physics. The breath knocked out of your lungs as you groaned:

“Fuck,” the curse coming out as you tried to pick yourself back to standing.

The time was still running out. You winced as the pain radiating from the right shoulder increased by a notch.

“Are you alright?” Neil pulled you up with a frown etched onto his face.

No.

“Yeah, let’s go. It’s close now” you offered him an unconvincing smile and looked towards the buildings.

From the distance, it looked like a barrow or a war-time bunker with the top covered with soil and the entrance through a dark tunnel. The main way in was not yours, however. Projecting the mental map of the compound, you searched the terrain for your entryway. Soon, just where you expected it to be, you noticed a metal trapdoor in the ground, partially hidden by the shadow of a crumbled building. You knew Neil noticed it too, for he gently pushed you in the direction without a word. 6:02. On time. Sort of.

The rusted padlock keeping the door shut gave way after a forceful kick. You stood on the lookout as Neil opened the flap with a creak of the old hinges. Making sure no one was on the horizon, you looked over your shoulder to see the progress. It seemed like your way in was a vertical tunnel with ladder steps ending in eerie darkness. And beyond? God knows what. Fantastic. As Neil peered down the hole with a small torchlight, you frowned:

“A dark hole in the ground… brilliant” letting out a small sigh, you met Neil’s eyes as he looked up at you.

A glimmer in the blue irises told you he was up for no good. And you were right.

“… there lived a Hobbit?” Neil completed the quotation in an innocent tone.

Just as if you were not in the middle of the battle with bullets wheezing past and explosions punctuating every heartbeat.

“… Neil, what the actual fuck?” gaping at him, you almost forgot the reality.

For a split second, there was no ticking clock and worry of death waiting around the corner. Only you and Neil, entangled in yet another dialogue of nonsense. As it was supposed to be. You knew he understood, for he squeezed your hand once more before responding:

“Sometimes I ask myself that too,” a perfect punchline to elicit a sharp gust of laughter.

But there was no time. You both checked the horizon one more time before Neil pushed you in the direction of the entrance:

“Go, I’ll follow,” a whisper, giving the necessary support.

No chance of backing out. With a final sigh, you secured the rifle on your shoulder and took the first step down the ladder. The railings were cold and corroded by time and elements, giving that additional spark of anxiety you did not need.

Looking down, you could make out the end, and so, making sure to ignore the aching body and screaming mind, you began the descend without a second of hesitation. There was no time. With only the light from the world above, you soon lost the count and the ability to see, relying only on your instincts not to slip and fall.

After what felt like hours, your feet touched the ground with a shallow thump, resonating through the cavern. The tunnel was lit by a single fluorescent, giving out its swan song underneath the Siberian ruins. As you took a step to the side to let Neil join you, you scanned the surroundings. The dark cave with rusted pipelines lining up the ceiling and the metal crate and railings covering the ground. You exchanged a glance, similar reactions mirrored on your faces. It was easy to feel unwelcomed.

You turned to the right, as the maps indicated, following the tunnel towards the epicentre. With each step, the anxiety rose, manifesting itself through the shaking fingers and shallow breaths. You could feel the inexplicable feeling of dread fill your heart with nothing to blame it on. Until you finally turned the last corner and found yourselves at your destination.

The dead drop chamber had a high dome with the entrance at the top and a cage-like construction underneath, edging a dark cavern. In the poorly lit space, your eyes took a second to adjust and take in the necessary details. Inside the cage, you could see TP and Ives, hunched over a mysterious, steel object, shaped like a coffin. The Algorithm. A shudder ran through your body as you noticed the yellow countdown clock attached to the item. Next to them, there was a body. A man lying flat on his back with a gunshot wound in his head. You immediately recognised the face from the folder given to you long before the mission took off. Volkov, Sator’s right hand. Your blood turned cold as though anticipating something that was yet to happen. The pain in your shoulder has reached the levels of tolerance, increasingly growing to make sure you could not ignore it. Tough luck.

“Neil… something’s wrong,” you whispered, grasping his hand in yours, seeking comfort.

Even though he could not offer anything beyond his presence. You knew that whatever would happen, you had to face it alone.

“I know,” the low murmur bringing you back to the present moment.

As you locked eyes with Neil, you could see the worries confirmed. He was tense as if anticipating the worst yet not knowing when or how it would come. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Ives and TP stare at both of you, seemingly unsure of how they should act or which part to play. The body language, showing nothing but unease and confusion. You knew Neil noticed it too, for he quickly closed the space to the lock and rummaged in the front pocket of his vest for the tools.

“Let’s…” throwing a look at you with the necessary determination.

No time to waste. You nodded, blocking out the pain, if even for a second longer. Job to be done.

“I’ll watch your back,” the assurance he did not need, but you gave anyway.

As Neil began the lockpicking, you positioned yourself sideways, hoping to have a good vantage point to observe the inside of the cage and the tunnel leading to the epicentre. A glance at the watch picked up the heart rate. 03:27. With the muffled sounds of the battle above the cavern, you could hear your heavy breaths filling the silence, sometimes interrupted with backwards gibberish coming from the splinter unit and Neil’s curses. The time was both suspended and was ticking away mercilessly.

Upon a louder sigh, you glanced in his direction. The question died on your tongue as you perceived movement through the bars of the chamber. A gasp pierced the silence as your eyes landed on Volkov raising from the ground. No bullet hole in his head. Fuck. Before you could utter a word, a gunshot resonated through the space. Ives lowered the gun, staring at you with a strange emotion. Neil glanced up, a shaky breath the only sound on the comms.

It was easy to put together the pieces. And make the decision. Ignoring Neil’s startled look, you crossed the remaining gap to the cage. The gate was almost open, needing a few seconds more, at most. And after… It made so much sense. Easy. No need to think or analyse. Shield Neil, keeping your gaze fixed on Volkov. The pulse, pounding in your ears. The backward gibberish, coming from the splinter unit, talking to the henchman. It all did not matter. You awaited that faithful sound of the lock opening. A breath in and out. It would be alright. It would be worth it.

The click came both sooner and later than you expected. A jolt of adrenaline ran through your body, elevating the heart rate, making your reactions fluent. Fear is your companion. As the gate creaked, Neil’s tools clattered to the ground. He looked up at you, questions and worries multiplying in the blue eyes. He didn’t know yet. Taking comfort in the realisation, you smiled at him. For reassurance. I got you.

And then swiftly threw yourself between him and the now open door as the second gunshot echoed in the chamber. A flash of pain ripped through your shoulder; the inverted bullet tore through the tissue before you could perceive it. Of course. Everything made sense now.

Volkov lowered the gun and retracted through the tunnel in the dome. With a strangled yell, you fell onto the ground. Your knees hit the crate as you toppled onto your side. The edges of your vision darkened; your brain overwhelmed with the increasing agony. As though through the glass, you could hear Neil scream your name before he gathered you in his arms. Through the tears, you could see his furrowed brow. The eyes glossy with unshed tears of his own. You wanted to brush them away. To tell him that you are going to be alright. That you love him. But no sound could come out through the tightened throat.

The warm liquid was pooling inside the suit and spilling through the gaping hole. Pain flooded your vision as you fought to keep your eyes open. Through the ascending fog, you could hear Neil’s whispers, begging you to stay with him. To stay awake. Easier said than done.

Slowly, he stood up, cradling you in his arms. Horror and determination etched onto his face. You laced your hands on his neck, following the instincts that played out their roles without your actions.

The tunnel. Please, don’t cry. Bright light, hurting your eyes. Explosions in the distance. The boundless blue cast with fear. I love you. Burning agony radiating through the body. I don’t regret it. Neil’s panicked screams. I’ll do everything for you. The soil underneath your fingertips. You’re my everything. Scarlet hands. Pain.

No sound but the wind.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil x reader #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet fanfic #neil tenet imagine #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

[juyeonjin]

Exquisite Encounter

Genre: Smut

Member: Taehyung, Jungkook

Warnings: smut, double penetration

Word Count: 2K

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Taehyung and Jungkook rented an apartment far near the coastal areas for the a week since they had the whole month off, with no schedule. The previous months before were well loaded, with constant performances and interviews and they just wanted to kick off and relax and just enjoy some tranquility. Initially it would have been with all the members but they thought it would be safer to not bring everyone since it can result in some unwanted scenarios. The other members also went to different places with Jin and Namjoon to a private Island and the rest to a rich friend's mansion, very far from the tumult of the city. Though separated, they all had one thing in common, doing what they can't do anymore because of how popular they were and busy they got. It was nearly eleven and they both got back from a luxurious restaurant and they would have arrived later if they were heading to a club to indulge in alcohol and have private lap dances but this time they had their own slut to use, who was waiting for them in the apartment.

You were a fan of them and mostly loved Jungkook and Taehyung and when you captivated the eyes of Taehyung during one of their concert, Taehyung asked one of the guards to bring you discreetly so he could meet you. Soon enough you were talking backstage and you couldn't keep your body from shaking from the nervosity and almost believed you were going to be banned from concerts for whatever reasons. "I swear, I didn't do anything, I didn't even bring my phone with me to take pictures or what not", you uttered in front of a smiling Taehyung who placed his still veiny hands from on your arm and replied, "Haha, you are so cute, do not worry you did nothing wrong, maybe only having my attention the whole time when I was on stage." When you heard that your heartbeat accelerated, and he then sighed, "How am I supposed to give you my number without your phone with you, pretty girl."

And that was it, the last amount of strength you had to keep you from mentally screaming, evaporating and your mind just, "What the fuck did I just hear, have I actually been knocked out by the guard that brought me here, is the man of my fucking dreams asking me out, ...!? wait does that mean I have to wipe out all information about me and start a brand new celebrity life, am I ready for this, I thought I was prepared but oh god, this is so sudden....", you stopped yourself from thinking when you heard a faint cough from the side and you wished you didn't turn your head to the direction when the Jeon Jeongguk made his way near his brother, all sweaty, veins very apparent and smirk on his face. "So I see I wasn't the only one to have been distracted by her the whole time I was performing", Jungkook said with a flirty tone and Taehyung smirked back at him then to you, and then replied with what could be the equivalent to the final blow to elimate the final boss in a game, "Her face and body just calls you and compels you to savour each moment your eyes lay on her", "My thoughts exactly hyung", Jk added.

___________________________________________

You were in a dream state for real cause how is this happening right now!? The two hottest man in the world and the ones behind your fantasies right there in front of you, talking to you and potentially wanting to date you? or was it just going to stop there, though you hoped it didn't since not only was your blood rushing so fast but the heat that formed in your core was clouding your thoughts and the desire to bring your fantasies to life was becoming harder to repel. "So if I understand, you both are in love with me," you said teasingly knowing well how they would react and you just wanted to hear that for some reason. "Love? Isn't it too fast princess, I don't even know your name yet and also I can only start considering after I get a taste of those lips" Taehyung said while Jungkook grinned knowing well what Taehyung was trying to do and he wouldn't want to miss that too. You would've have been taken aback if you weren't already thinking of both of them railing you against the wall of their company and without thinking too much of it, "Well if my first kiss will have to be with master Kim Taehyung, I can only comply, unless master Jeon might want to do it first" you said moving your eyes onto Jungkook who was loving everything that was going down right now.

Taehyung loved it too, he was going to fuck you but not with his eyes like he did while on stage. He loved how you teased them back, called him Master!? and he would be your first kiss!? unless Jungkook gets it first, which he wouldn't let happen since he was the one who brought you here and began all of this. Both him and Jungkook's bulge were being obviously apparent from their their pants and you noticed that and you could only internally scream, " Omg, it's actually going to happen!". The thought of both of them fucking you in all your holes, when they bring you back at the company or maybe in one of their houses? all sweaty and roughly pounding you and dumping several loads in you made you soaking wet however before that one last step of having them inside you, a staff came and urged the boys to come back. Though, it made you think and even realise that obviously they couldn't just make it happen liket that, unless they could? but now you felt you eyes starting to get wet as you thought that all of this would end. "Were they just playing? was it just some teasing and flirting and nothing more? Am I not going to have them inside of me?" Taehyung who sensed that you were starting to doubt got closer to you while Jungkook stayed behind. His hand held your wrists and he slowly came near your ears to whisper, "Do not worry, we will meet again, you just have to remember my number unless your mind would be to busy thinking of my cock." He then whispered his number slowly, the air coming from his lips tickling your ears softly and you could've have sworn you felt like he was fucking you from how intense all of this was, how close he was too you, how his breath traveled around your collarbone and his hands gripping your wrists.

He lifted his head and looked back at you with his adoring smile, which actually calmed you down and made you trust him and that you will see him and possibly Jungkook too again. "I sincerely hope I can see you again and up until then I would not stop thinking about you", he told you and Jungkook added, "Try to keep those lips for us until we see you again, baby."

Taehyung chuckled and you smiled back at them and you then you said jokingly, "Well I'm going to another concert in two days, so.... Idk what crazy thing is going to happen this time around", knowing very well you had no conceet to attend or whatsoever. They both happily smiled back at you guessing that you were teasing them again which made the anticpation to meet you even more intense and you couldn't help but let out a laugh, which they joined. They said goodbye to you and looked at you with gleaming smiles and with eyes that said, "See you soon" as you disappeared from their view.

___________________________________________

"Oh look at our baby, so impatient for her daddy's cock", Taehyung said with his deep voice that made your heat rise instantly. Jungkook and Taehyung got close to your naked body, kneeling on the long sofa and looked down at you with their piercing and lustful eyes. You couldn't believe it, it was really the start of a whole week of being the slut of these two hot men and the idea itself was enough inundate your veins with this erotic poison.

Taehyung: "Take off my pants and have my cock in your mouth baby, it's all yours."

You didn't hesitate to proceed and you unzipped his pants and pulled it down together with his gucci boxers. His was massive and already stained his boxers his pre-cum. You licked his whole length from the base to the tip with a slow tantalising motion, making you to keep your eyes fixed onto Taehyung's. Jungkook has already removed all of his clothes and was sitting next to your pretty figure.

Taehyung: "Come on baby, show me how you much you want this more than any candy,"

You nodded sheepishly and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock as you took all of it till it reach the back of your throat. Your gagging sound, didn't skip Taehyung as he groaned with his hips travelling back and forth into your warm entry, trammelling your breath.

Taehyung: "You love that hmmm? Pleasure your daddy's cock at the expense of your own comfort."

You removed his dick from your mouth as you nodded to him but he placed both of his hands at the back of your head as he penetrated your mouth and began bucking into your throat.

"I didn't say that you could take your mouth off now did I!?" Taehyung confronted.

Jungkook placed his hand onto your slit and began rubbing your sensitive area with a soft motion that made you wetter each second. You shifted and now you were enclosing Jungkook's dick inside your mouth. He hissed in satisfaction and began thrusting upwards into your mouth causing your eyes to water. Taehyung was behind your rounded butt and had his tongue work throughout your slit. He was so good at it, eating you like his favourite dessert. Before he could release into your mouth, Jungkook lifted you up by the hair, freeing his dick from your lips and he stared at your eyes for a few seconds. "Babe, you really love this cock of mine, hmmm, a little more and I would've you swallow my seeds. Taehyung it's time to make her go for a ride."

They were seated in opposite directions with their cocks aligning next to each other as you descended. You opened up nicely for them, welcoming their throbbing dicks inside your walls.

Jungkook: "Oh baby...., you are taking us so well."

Taehyung: "Mmmm yeah...., so wet and soft. You're gliding up and down so easily... fuck..."

The conjoined moans of the two men was the ideal music that made every motion of your hips more and more pleasurable. You couldn't hold it any longer and you came onto their dicks still inside on you. They both groaned louder when your walls tightened around them.

Jungkook: "Fuck..! That felt so good just now."

Taehyung: "Come on baby, be a good girl and make us cum inside of you."

Your bounced onto them a little faster, taking them as deep as you could until you felt their cocks shoot ropes of cum inside of you, filling you immensely that it was dripping out already.

You continued riding them for a few more seconds before sliding out and then got onto your knees on the floor. They both sat up on the couch and you went to suck Taehyung's cock slowly while jerking Jungkook's cock at the same pace.

Jungkook: "She was so good, right hyung..?"

Taehyung: "Yeahhh.... let's see if she can take us both in her other hole...", he replied lazily since you were sucking on his whole length still sensitive from the fuck you've just had.

#jungkook smut #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts jungkook smut #kim taehyung smut

[doubledgesword-2]

Can I get Vil Schoenheit x Rival Celebrity? They shoot insults at each other but end up flirting? Take it as far as you want! Any gender reader is fine lol

Oh, ma Gooosh!! This is the first Matcha Tea I've gotten, and I'm all for this. I had so much fun with this one, and I want to show you lil' sugar cubes the difference between characters I know and the ones that I don't. I do my research before writing a character that I'm unfamiliar with, but I will be sincere: I butchered the last request (Shalnark's). I will try to rewrite it, but other characters apart from the stated ones are a bit hard for me ( ˘︹˘ ).

I will always try my best for ya'll! Enjoy this steaming Matcha (❛‿❛✿)

“What a shameless potato,” nimble fingers scrolled down on their phone, looking at the menagerie of pictures from one single account: yours.

You and Vil were from the same industry, just not the same department per se. While he was a model and actor, you were a j pop star and actress. Your popularity and his were on the same level, but he was slightly higher if you asked him or his fans. Ever since the two of you met on set for a fantasy-like movie, you repelled each other’s presence like oil and water.

Amethyst eyes glared at your smiling picture, and a thousand critiques passed through his mind. Your make-up did not complement your features; what was your make-up artist thinking? That nail polish didn’t match with your skin, and your haircut didn’t go with your face and countless other thoughts. But that wasn’t his place to tell, and besides, you living in his head rent-free wasn’t good for his skin. Stress kills, and thinking about you was very stressful.

The subway doors opened, and Vil gripped his side bag, adjusting his beret and sunglasses and walking out with the amount of confidence and power it took to walk down the runway. The sea of people diligently coming and going parted for him without a cue. They just did like mindless fish around a predator. It was in their nature to give in, in the presence of something so regal.

Vil had a photoshoot to go, and he couldn’t miss a beat. His agenda was full and complicated; anyone who tried to follow it would surely lose their minds after the first three days of the same arduous pace. But he could handle it with the grace of a swan. He was the great Vil Shoenheit. He wondered if you could handle a week in his shoes. You probably would drop exhausted and disheveled, complaining about the hard work. The thought made him smirk smugly, and passerby fans who recognized him couldn’t even keep up to ask for an autograph.

He just couldn’t fathom how you had such a fan base with your attitude and manners. Sure, in front of the cameras, you were a sweetheart, stealing everyone’s hearts, singing like an empowered angel, and making them think you were as far from the villain he knew you truly were. Vil knew your kind and recognized it the moment he met you on set. Heck, you couldn’t even contain your disdain in interviews when the two of you had to sit side by side. It was uncomfortable, to say the least; the poor reporter was so painfully awkward trying to alleviate the tenseness in the room.

“So (Y/N), how do you feel being an actress in a big-budget movie while also singing and performing the next week? Is it exhausting?”

You sided glared at Vil, and gave the reporter a smug grin. “Well, I think I can handle a little bit of work. It’s not in me to sit around and look pretty, you know. But then again, I guess that’s what some people are into, so we can’t judge them. They might not understand hard work.”

Vil smiled with closed eyes. You were such an amateur. If it weren’t for the fact that you were actively throwing shade on him and being so annoying at it, too, he might think you were cute.

Of course, Vil wouldn’t back down; that’s not what he was taught. The crown was his, and he would take it with hard work and determination. Which means potatoes like you don’t really matter in the long run of things.

“Vil-senpai, how do you manage your modeling gig and your acting? I mean, it must be hard to run from one event to the next since they’re so close behind each other?”

“Well, dear, we models are more than just a pretty face. We represent big companies and events that many couldn’t even fathom getting into. My schedule might be a bit tight, but I was born into this lifestyle, and I have learned many skills to help me move and work in these types of environments. I can say one thing for sure not a lot of people can handle my agenda, one day in my heels, and they might slip if you know what I mean, darling.”

You scoffed under your breath, and it made Vil’s smile grow wider.

“Ahh, Vil-senpai is a hard worker for sure. Perhaps one day I could do an interview that can provide insight to one day of your agenda.”

“Anytime you want, darling, it would be lovely,” he knew with every word that came out of his mouth; you simmered even more.

“Are there any hobbies or activities that can fit into your schedules?

Vil was about to open his mouth when you beat him to it.

“Well, I don’t think he’s allowed to have any, you know, with his busy schedule. But I do love partaking in (hobby). I think it is a nice way to unwind and take my mind off of everything. Since stress it’s not good for your vocals, you know. I try to keep myself in top shape for my lovely fans.”

Vil was raging. How dare you interrupt him when he was clearly about to talk. Didn’t your parent taught you any manners, or are you so much of a spoiled brat to care for?

“Ahh, interesting. Does Vil Sendai have any hobbies in particular?

“As a matter of fact, I do” you were looking at him with an expectant smirk. You were genuinely curious to hear what he had to say. “I like to make beauty and make-up tutorials that are beneficial for a lot of my fans. I like to show them how to use brushes correctly what and what not to do with concealer. Those are bonding moments for me and my fans. I think they are important.”

At the end of that interview, a single question brought the anger and tense meter to burst. Now the tensions and dislikes weren’t palpable. They were visible.

“Oh, I’ve had some partners, but I like to focus more on my work, unlike some other artists who like to jump around; my projects come first, and I don’t want to ruin my partner’s and I relationship by not spending enough time with them.”

“Wow, he really doesn’t like to have fun.”

“I do just not with the likes of you.”

“Come on, pretty boy, you couldn’t handle me even if you were begging pretty on your knees.”

“Dream on, potato, you might be prettier than most potatoes, but you’re still that a potato with some potential. I bet if push came to shove, you wouldn’t last seconds with me.

“I bet you wouldn’t make it into the second round without having to retouch your make-up with me. Besides, it’s not like you’ll last long enough to even sweat that much.”

“Well, that’s a relief to know I wouldn’t have to put much effort into pleasing someone like you.”

The reporter was utterly flushed, and that was cut from the interview recording. Good thing that it was, or people might’ve gotten the wrong impression. That you liked each other or something.

Or something.

After that interview, rumors spread like they always do, and fans started gossiping about the two of you secretly together but having to hate each other in public to save face since it’s a big rumor that singers and models don’t actually go well together in the industry.

Such wild imagination and machinations fans have. It brought out a small chuckle.

Vil passed through the automatic doors telling the receptionist his name and guiding him to the set. Once there, he settled his stuff over the make-up table and sat back to look once more through his phone.

“Have you seen this?” A text notification annoying appeared on the screen.

Vil tch and opened the message to reveal a very well photoshopped photo of him and you sitting and drinking at some café. You were smiling like he just told you you were beautiful, and it was a good look on you.

This was outrageous. Who would go to such lengths? Suddenly a bag dropped right on the table next to him. He looked up to meet your eyes as you took off your sunglasses, slowly realizing who was sitting beside you.

“Oh no,” you faintly muttered underneath your breath but not faintly enough that Vil couldn’t hear you.

He scoffed and went back to look at the stupid picture, texting his manager as mad as he was.

“Oh, you saw it too,” you commented, sitting down and looking at your own phone.

Vil didn’t answer. He really didn’t care about your opinion on this; his credibility was on the line. He was supposed to hate you, and that’s how things should go.

“Well, at least they got a good angle of my face, not to mention I’m actually smiling for once.”

“Actually, smil- what are you talking about potato? All you do is smile in all of your pictures. That’s why you have to hide your wrinkles with make-up,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Well, as presumptuous as that was, proud little peacock, I actually never smile genuinely for the cameras. My genuine smile is reserved for good moments. I guess not anymore.”

At that, Vil felt like the two of you clicked. He knew the feeling, the invasive nature of fame, and the lack of privacy was very real in the industry. It’s the first thing you have to get through. But listening to you say made him realize you’re just like him.

“Well, if you behave during the shoot, I might feel inclined to reward you for good behavior” he grinned at you.

“Mmm, you make it sound as if you don’t like the way I make you crumble in front of everyone. It’s like you’re denying yourself the pleasure, and here I thought you liked the masochism.”

“Hahahaha, I’ll step on you once we’re done here. Maybe that and a little bit of discipline will put you in your place. However, your lack of manners and running mouth might be a problem; perhaps all you need is a nice pacifier. I can help with that.”

You both were so close to each other muttering salacious threats that you didn’t realize how flustered everyone else was in the room.

It was going to be another one of those shoots.

#twisted wonderland #vil x reader #vil x mc #vil shoenheit #twisted wonderland fandorm #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland fic #fanfiction #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland vil #disney twst #twst vil

[calciumcryptid]

I Have Elected to Ignore Midnight's Death

Polarmare's First Day

It was the first year Kenta would be teaching at U.A. A longtime friend of hers requested to take up the open teaching position, and who was Polarmare going to deny a change of scenery?

Besides, her sister lived in Japan and was elated to know that the Fuyuhito sisters were getting back together so that was the housing situation solved in under five minutes.

U.A. paid good as well which was good for a single mother like Kenta. She adored Seko with all her heart from the first time they met in Japan two years ago when she saved him from prison. Sure the paperwork was a bitch, but Seko loved the opportunity to meet so many different heroes.

So they packed their bags, and headed off to Japan where she was reunited with her sister.

The day after they arrived she made sure her paperwork was sorted by the Hero Safety Commission, then made sure to pick up Seko for her tour at UA.

There she met Nezu, who seemed just as crazy has he had been over the phone and her fellow coworkers.

She took an instant liking to Powerloader and Snipe as they bonded over creating weapons. Vlad King and Ectoplasm seemed chill too, and it was nice to see other dedicated teachers.

Midnight was cheering about another woman on the staff, though seemed to deflate when Kenta snipped her sexual flirting at the bud.

Present Mic was loud, but reminded Kenta of a friend in America so the familiarity was nice.

It was interesting meeting All Might after seeing his last stand on the news, but Kenta hoped they would be able to get along even if he seemed like a bumbling mess half of the time.

Recovery Girl was alright, a bit jaded but it was hard to find a hero so old who wasn't.

Aizawa seemed like someone she needed to keep her eye on, his knee jerk reaction upon learning she was an international hero was hostility while he worked under the impression she was a spotlight hero.

With a swing of her axe, and a clarification of the fact she was a Neighborhood Hero who worked mostly under Rescue and Underground terms, he simmered down real quick.

The General Ed teachers seemed chill, and Kenta hoped she would be able to grab some drinks with them after a long day of work.

Seko loved every one of the them, and was excited by the prospect of their quirks though Kenta made sure to cover his eyes and ears whenever Midnight was in the room.

After final arrangements with Nezu, she was given the dates of the entrance exams. The Fuyuhito family left in good spirits.

The day of the Management Entrance Exam came around, and Kenta came in her formal hero uniform. She took a seat beside Snipe and Powerloader, and was introduced as Polarmare.

Polarmare watched as potential students came in to present one by one, and she made notes. At the end of the day after helping the potential support students present Polarmare was happy with her picks.

It wasn't over though as she spent a while in her new office she looked at each students history, made a few calls, and at the end picked out a good sixty for the first years.

Sixty may seem extreme, but there were many parts of management and business so they wouldn't all be in one class.

She went home to tend to her son, and went to see the sights with her family.

The day of the hero entrance exams arrived, and Polarmare took a seat in the viewing room. She studied the motions of the potential students, their interactions, and was pleasantly surprised to see Nezu took her suggestion of making Rescue Points public and hiding a new type of points known as Cooperation Points.

The big scale robot had been toned down a bit, and at the end Polarmare had a few qualms but didn't have any outward complaints.

Eventually, the first day of the school year came around and Polarmare did her introductory presentation. She explained each branch of management and business, the schedules, and sent them on a tour with Snipe of the business building.

While that occured, she had a meeting with the votes on representatives and outlined what she expected of each of them. She was pleasantly surprised to find them ready to meet the challenge, and was off once again.

She let the students spend the first week exploring the changes she made, and getting used the renovated building. She didn't see the need to challenge them too much considering they were in a new environment.

At the end of the day, Polarmare made her way to the Conference Room and took her place. The first thing she noticed was a lack of Gen Ed teachers present, which concerned her.

Snipe and Powerloader seemed surprised to see her there, and it was Snipe who leaned over.

"The Management teacher usually doesn't come to these meetings as they center primarily around the hero course."

Polarmare took in the words before responding, "Business and Management is a huge part of heroics so I believe I should be present for any meetings regarding the Hero Course."

Snipe nodded, and straightened back up.

After a couple more looks, the rest of the teachers settled down to prepare the meeting.

Nezu got up on his little podium, and smiled. "Welcome to the first hero course meeting of the year. Since we have a new teacher with us this year, I would love to hear her thoughts on how she plans on interacting with the hero course."

"First, may I record the meeting?" Polarmare asked. "I work better if I have audio to listen to afterwards."

A few of the teachers gave each other looks, but Nezu nodded.

Polarmare tapped her recorder before she stood up. "I plan on calling the second year students to the business building to discuss their media presence. With permission from you and their gaurdians, I want to make sure they have profiles set up on Hero Watch. It would be good for them to interact with other heroes, and it will open internship and work study opportunities for them."

Nezu hummed, "Permission granted, you may start as soon as you can."

"Once I get their gaurdains approval," Polarmare resaid with a firm stare. "I shall send out the email tonight, and set up conferences if needed."

Polarmare noticed some of the teachers looking at her in confusion, but she made her notes.

The rest of the teachers went around, and Polarmare made her notes. Admittedly more on their body language then what they have to say.

The last person to talk was Aizawa. He stood up and gathered a couple of papers.

"All of the expulsion forms have been filled out." Aizawa passed them around towards Nezu.

Polarmare slammed down her hand before they could be passed the final length. She turned them over to look through them.

"Polarmare, may I ask what you are doing?" Aizawa asked through gritted teeth.

"You know Eraserhead, this seems quite light for expulsion papers. I see a distinct lack of reference to any evidence or record of you meeting with the student to discuss the expulsion."

"What are you talking about?" Aizawa asked.

"According to the Student Rights, the student should be made aware of their expulsion with any evidence before they are expelled." Polarmare looked over to Aizawa, "I assume this is the first time Nezu has seen these, so I also assume he has been expelling students based on your word without a meeting or evidence."

Aizawa stared Polarmare down, "U.A. does not work on the regular rules schools are legally allowed to abide by."

Polarmare shifted the papers in her hand, "Actually, Student Rights apply to all schools. If this is the case, and you have been expelling like this, it is a miracle you haven't been sued."

"Nezu handles the lawsuits," Snipe said.

"Ah, that explains that. Let me clarify, it is a miracle that someone who outranks you hasn't caught on and sued you." Polarmare adjusted her posture, "Now what is your reasoning?"

"The students show a lack of potential," Aizawa stated matter of factly.

Polarmare raised an eyebrow, and waved her hand. "And?"

"What more is there to say?"

Polarmare sighed deeply. "Tell me Eraserhead, how do you measure a concept as abstract as 'Potential'."

"A series of trials," Aizawa stated.

"Yeah, I saw those trials being performed. I noticed that they are all physical. Are you saying you are measuring potential on how physically experienced your students are?"

Midnight giggled.

Polarmare shot a glare before turning back to Aizawa, "I am going to look through these students and read out loud their quirks."

"This is uneccesary-"

"Marinette, this quirk allows the user to control those with human intelligence or faux human intelligence like robots as though they are simply puppets. Hmm, I don't see how this could apply to something like a grip test or ball throw. Though this could be a way to give heroes confidence or maybe even to control villains. This student sounds like a great Underground or Neighborhood Hero if they so desired.

"That is only-"

"Oh! Gnaw. This one is interesting. This quirk gives the user sharp appendages as long as they are made out of keratin on some level. Can't think of how this would help a sit-up, but imagine there was a super strong net that could be useful. This student sounds like an amazing Rescue Hero if they so desired."

"Two-"

"Slowdown, a quirk that allows the user to slow down anything that is moving. That is amazing on its own, and if they know how to dismantle robots in the time allowed they have to be some sort of mechanical genius! They could go down any hero path they wanted and he so successful. A shame I can't think of how this would help on any trials unless they were sabotaging others. Were they sabotaging others?"

"No," Aizawa said.

"This is a bad trend Eraserhead," Polarmare warned. "Of course if you insist on wanting to expell them, then why don't you allow me work out some private study transfers. I know what, like five? Ten? Twenty? Probably like something hundred pros who are on the waiting list that would love to work with some of these quirks."

Aizawa glared at her.

"Then again why is there such a focus on their quirks? Oh! I know, it is because you don't care how they act if Mineta and Bakugou is anything to go by." Polarmare said. "Don't think I've noticed the large amount of tapes and complaints filled out regarding them."

Polarmare looked up at Aizawa, "I'm just saying there is some good evidence here to create a good quirk discrimination and abuse of power case. Unfortunately for you, I happen to be friends with a lot of lawyers and reporters who don't exactly love UA and would love to get their hands on this information."

"Nezu!" Aizawa shouted.

Nezu who was blankly smiling throughout the whole exchange looked at Aizawa. "What? She has a point, and we can not take another hit like this to our reputation. Polarmare you have permission to disband the expulsions."

"Thank you."

"Oh shit," Present Mic muttered but it was audible due to the complete silence of the room."

"With that, I believe this meeting shall be adjourned. I employ you all to spend some times to reevaluate your students."

Polarmare collected her notes, and looked over the expulsion sheets. She wasn't lying before, she was sure she could find some good mentors for these students depending on what they want to do. She'll have to add those meetings to her calendar. Maybe Seko had some ideas, and her sister would probably snatch up one of th-

Something ling and grey wrapped around her mid section, and she didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"Eraserhead, what do I owe the pleasure?" She turned her head to see his eyes aflame with red.

"I have been managing my class like this for years, and I do not appreciate you coming in here and dictating what I can and can not do."

"I do not dictate it, the law does." Polarmare sighed as she looked at his eyes. "Cancelling my quirk is useless considering it isn't and offensive quirk," She pointed out.

Aizawa let his capture scarf wrap back around his neck as he blinked. He stared at her with narrowed eyes.

"Bakugou is a perfectly fine student, and I do not see why you brought him up-"

"The boy has a record of telling people to die, I don't care if it is his thing it fucks with your head. Not to mention the physical assault and berating he does, because unlike you I read the complaints."

"The complaints are useless, I judge my students without any prior knowledge."

Polarmare raised an eyebrow, "Does that include background checks because I thought UA prided themselves on those."

Aizawa gritted his teeth.

"If that is all, I need to get home to my family."

#polarmare #bnha writing #bnha fanfic #bnha ocs #bnha business course ocs #bnha management course ocs #aizawa is nezus favorite #aizawa critical #aizawa negative

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 141

Last week I posted a day early because vacation was doing vacation things to my sense of time.... This week I forgot to queue the chapter up because Monday was a work holiday, so I forgot today was Tuesday. *insert facepalm here please*

Thanks on this one go largely to @baelpenrose who rightfully pointed out that one part made very little sense to him and therefore was unlikely to make sense to a reader.  The clarification smoothed things out quite a bit, I think.  Just in case, whoever spots the area I’m talking about gets a cookie as soon as travel restrictions lift.

As always, thanks go also to @the-raven-fae, @charlylimph-blog, and @anotherusrname for completing the corners of my support system. And, a super-duper extra-special to @drinksteawithcake! I don’t know if I am allowed to tell everyone why, but you know why you get the extra-special, and I hope you are having fun!

BWAAAAAHP!   BWAAAAAHP!

“Uhhh?” I squinted in complaint as flailing arms clambered over me. One pair snagged me around my waist to drag me from bed before depositing me shakily on my feet. “What are you - ?”

BWAAAAAHP!  BWAAAAAHP!

Any trace of sleep was shoved out of my system, replaced by sizzling alertness when I realized I was hearing ship-wide alarms.  Shoving myself into the first clothing I grabbed, not even bothering with shoes, I was hot on Conor and Maverick’s heels as we raced out of our quarters and into the corridor. We paused only long enough for both men to kiss me and for “I love yous” to be exchanged before they turned and headed toward the areas indicated on their datascreens, while I hauled ass toward the Archives, ducking and twisting to avoid anyone in my path.

“Forty minutes,” Tyche told me crisply as I basically fell through the door, panting. “The Ark could be invaded and the battle over by the time you make it.”

“I ran….huff….the whole….ugh….way….” I managed to gasp out.  Part of me felt like puking, but I was pretty sure the muscles in my abdomen were too busy to figure out the logistics.

Clicking her tongue, she pulled me up from the floor. “Alistair, make a note to suggest to Xio that Sophia’s quarters be relocated once we have a better idea of when we are dropping into real space.”

I nodded numbly. “And probably… amp up… sensors… give… earlier… warning.”

“Nice outfit, by the way,” she laughed quietly as we finally reached the shelter point within the Archives.

Glancing down, I had to suppress a sigh. The first thing I grabbed to dress myself had apparently been a pair of Conor’s boxer shorts and a very filthy t-shirt that I assumed belonged to Maverick, since Conor’s was usually under coveralls. “At least you can’t say I took my time getting dressed.”

Her shaking head was greeted by faces in various states of wakefulness - this had been a drill, and woke nearly the entire Ark during their sleep interval on Delta shift.  But we weren’t out of the woods, yet: the drill didn’t end until all of Xiomara and Evan’s scenarios played out, including the mock combat and various tests of concealment for the other shelters.  As such, Tyche stood guard over the choke-point into this section, while Alistair had stayed behind at the entrance.

Early on, when the drills started, there had been fifty-fifty odds that the mock-invaders would make it this far, but over the past few weeks, that had narrowed to maybe twenty-percent.  It was still too high a chance in my judgement, and Xiomara clearly agreed as she stepped up training schedules and randomized the timing of the drills. 

Taking a swig of water from a stash of bottles, I queued up my datapad and stood next to Tyche, watching the ‘casualties’ from a point where no one could see over my shoulder to avoid panic, which I would have done in a real situation. “They didn’t find mess hall seven this time,” I murmured.

She glanced at my screen. “Acoustics are still too damned high. She must not be simulating for that this go around.”

One of the decoy locations lit up. “Looks like this time it’s heavy on thermal.” The location in question had been equipped with a cooking surface, triggered to activate when the klaxons that had woken me up went off.  Which Xiomara knew, but did not tell the ‘pirates’ for authenticity.

“How did they get past the combatants this time?” She asked, both curious and slightly worried.

Rolling back the sensor data, I watched it carefully. “Looks like these got in during the initial breaches, multiple points. But the line has held since, that’s good.”

Doing another check toward Alistair’s direction, she didn’t seem to see anything concerning. “How many?”

“Four,” I confirmed.  “Sam’s thermal camouflage is working beautifully, though.”  I couldn’t help but grin, and Tyche snorted at the same time. ‘Thermal camouflage’ was a bit of overkill as a name, but it was working well in every round. Potential access points were equipped with fast-acting environmental simulators - originally designed for temporary habitats on inhospitable moons - modified to release atmosphere like a Terran equatorial rainforest within one minute in an enclosed space.  It was a much more simple and elegant solution than any others we had found for giving combatants defending the Ark an advantage - instead of trying to create technology to make them look colder, make the entire area match human heat signatures.  Boom, instantly blinded enemies.

A tense half-hour later, the ‘all clear’ sounded, queueing grumbling from those who had dozed back off as everyone stood to make their ways back to their quarters. I waited with Alistair and Tyche for everyone else to be accounted for on the way out, and the three of us headed back toward our quarters together.  Alistair peeled off first, living closest to the Archives, and no sooner had my sister and I reached my door than the page sounded for the post-drill meeting.  She waved me off as she answered on her databand, and I did the same as I pushed into my quarters and flopped on the couch. “Councillor Sophia Reid, present, audio only,” I answered. “And no jokes, Pranav… I look like I smell awful.”

“Alistair Worthington, present, audio and video. I can confirm that she does, and she does.”

Laughter filled the comms and the rest of the group leaders and Councillors joined the debrief.  Finally, everyone was present and Xiomara called the meeting to order.  First, the leaders of each shelter reported in, as those usually went the fastest. There were a couple malfunctions in the deployment of the shielding to disguise the entrances and hide heat and electrical signatures, but nothing Huynh’s team couldn’t fix.  Tyche and Alistair made the recommendations around earlier detection and the need to move those sheltering in the  Archives closer as we approached time to drop out of relativistic space. 

Once that was out of the way, it was on to the combat and invasion teams. Overall consensus was that Sam’s trick with the portable environments was a rousing success and would be installed at each point determined to be most likely as a breach, with trigger conditions to be determined later. “I hate to say it,” Michael sighed, “but we also need Charly’s team to crank up the scovilles on the arrows and grenades.” His team had played the ‘invaders’ this go around, equipped with sensors and readouts to simulate the effect our defenses would have on the various species who most commonly were found on pirate vessels.  Evan had worked intensely with Pranav and Derek to ensure that the strategies provided by the readouts were modelled after similar strategies based on which ever species each team member was assigned, to ensure we weren’t accidentally drilling against human tactics.

Michael hated it, but he was strict about his team complying nonetheless.

“Seriously?” I squawked, and I wasn’t the only one. “One of those things accidentally went off in my quarters…. Can confirm, they’re pretty potent.”

“They dissipated too fast against my team, and also the contact element left a lot to be desired. Charly, you may want to consider adding a sticking element.”

“Duly noted,” she chimed in with a yawn, her normal pep doused by being woken up and then the drop in adrenaline post-combat.

“What about the sonic weapons?” Xiomara asked, moving the meeting along.

“Still less effective than Nixe is on her own,” a familiar voice I couldn’t put a name to responded with a sheepish tone.  “How hard would it be to train more people to shatter glass with their voice?”

“Incredibly,” Grey stressed. “It takes a very unique combination of training and the right vocal chords.”

“Then we may need to work on adding a projection component.  The sonic devices can match the pitch, but not the actual tone and direction. They’re very effective given time and especially contact, but we need something more immediately disabling.”

Xiomara groaned. “Are we back to Mariah Carey on this one?” Objections exploded until she muted the comms. “It’s that or opera.” Votes started scrolling up the screen, and I could see Xio nod. “Opera it is.  Let’s find a suitable piece and try using more analogue-style speakers.”

“I still say that death metal would work better,” Arthur suggested as soon as the comms were back on.

“Annnnd we already tested it, I will remind you. The volume works, but the pitches aren’t high enough to hit a broad enough population of species sensitive to sound.” After that nearly-obligatory objection, the meeting continued going through reports from each combat team until finally Xiomara announced the end results. “I have to admit, this was one of our best drills yet. Ten percent casualties of the combatants defending the breaches, only two percent among non-combatants, and the invaders were only able to traverse three decks before they were subdued.” She let the cheers go for a couple seconds before getting everyone’s attention again. “Yes, great job on the improvements, but let me remind everyone - those numbers still leave us below threshold for a healthy genetic population. Engineering teams, make the necessary adjustments with whatever resources are necessary. Shelters Three and Seven, you will start training for armed and unarmed combat with Shelter Fourteen and Combat Team Two daily.  Sophia, your team will coordinate schedules. Any questions?”

There were no arguments, not even a groan or mutter as the meeting was dismissed. Before I could even add the new task to my agenda the next day, I received the notification that Alistair had beaten me to the punch.

Glancing at the time, I wanted to hit something.  I had to be back up and at work in four hours, and the realization weighed me down with exhaustion.  The guys had come in and gone to bed while I was in the debrief, and I could already hear synchronized snoring coming from the bedroom.  Rather than risk waking them with my now-frozen feet, I pulled the quilt off the back of my couch and rolled myself into it.  Only minutes later, a heavy weight oozed across my hip and started purring furiously.

“Yeah, buddy. I agree. We need a nap.”

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

[eggtoasties]

Chapter One: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

Counter point: Good counterpoint requires two qualities: (1) a meaningful or harmonious relationship between the lines (a “vertical” consideration—i.e., dealing with harmony) and (2) some degree of independence or individuality within the lines themselves (a “horizontal” consideration, dealing with melody).

It was illogical really, Kuroo thought to himself, having to take a mandatory arts class. He was an athlete. He would probably major in STEM or business the next year if he didn’t go pro. But here he was, staring at the course catalogue, deciding between different bands, choirs, art classes, and orchestra. Irritatingly, Kenma had finished his arts requirement last year, taking a video editing class which Kuroo thought was definitely cheating since he figured Kenma already knew the basics. Plus, he not-so-secretly believed that Kenma would benefit from another non-electronic hobby.

Sighing, he assessed each class. He knew he was tone deaf and did not want others listening to him sing. Plus, he’s seen the red cummerbunds and bow ties the choir had to wear for concerts and refused to give his teammates the blackmail fodder even if Yaku thought it looked “refined.”

To be honest, Kuroo didn’t know much about the arts. He only had the vaguest understanding of the differences between Watercolor 101, Figure drawing 101, and Oil Painting 101. While he thought of himself in the studio, palette in hand with an apron tied around him, working intently at the easel on the next generational masterpiece, he remembered when Kenma threw his pencil-drawn mockups of promotional posters in the trash and told him not to show the rest of the team.

While maybe he could try digital media, he couldn’t help but imagine himself against the romanticized backdrop of more traditional arts.

He had to choose between the several band electives and orchestra. He couldn’t do marching band—he wouldn’t be caught dead in those uniforms, wind ensemble had auditions he surely wouldn’t pass, jazz band had mandatory solos, but symphonic band was for rookies. ‘Beginners welcome,’ was typed out with an asterisk under the listing. But, so did orchestra. Doing a quick search to figure out the difference between band and orchestra, Kuroo weighed his options.

He took piano lessons from ages four through ten before finally convincing his parents to let him quit—wearing them down by crying every week and throwing a mini tantrum at daily practice—not that he intentionally did it as an elementary school student. But, even from an early age, he knew volleyball was it for him.

While he wasn’t well acquainted with classical music, he had grown up with it from his parents. Well, when they were irritated with the bickering matches between him and his older sister, their parents would crank up the car radio, drowning their yelling. His mom would tell him she used to play Mozart for him when he was a baby which is why he grew so tall—which he would always say makes no sense—and occasionally, a film score would make the hairs on his arms rise even when he was trying to focus on the scene.

So he decided. He’d enroll in orchestra for the year, make himself unnoticeable in the back, and fulfill his arts requirement so he could graduate high school and maybe apply to university. Plus, he figured, as he ticked the box next to orchestra, he’d finally be able to wear his suit his parents bought him, saying that he’d need it eventually.

Folding the course registration paper and sliding it into an envelope to be sent to Nekoma High, he stood up from his seat at the low dining room table and decided to go to Kenma’s, figuring they could squeeze some volleyball practice before summer vacation ended.

.

The first day of his third year was unextraordinary. He woke up tired, coaxed his bed head into something manageable, and started his commute to school, picking Kenma up on the way. Double and triple checking his course schedule on his phone and reminding his teammates that they all had to help out in advertising the volleyball club—well, maybe except Yaku—he tapped his toes with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

His classes were nothing special, most of them a continuation of the year before or courses he carefully picked with the advice of his seniors. But, walking towards the orchestra room at the far side of the building where all the music classes were, he felt a familiar rush of nervous adrenaline spike—not unlike the nerves before a big match. But this time, he couldn’t be confident in his own skills or rely on a team to back him up. Counting the room numbers until it matched the one on his registration, he found the room with its double doors propped open.

Striding in, the large open space was in various states of organized chaos. Other students were already moving chairs in uniform columns, two to a row, and were pulling instruments out of cases. Unsure of what to do, he immediately found the teacher.

“Hi Jouda-sensei, I’m Kuroo Tetsuro,” he introduced. “I’m new—where should I sit?”

“Hi Tetsuro-kun, it’s nice to meet you,” she said warmly. “Ah, yes I see you enrolled as a beginner.” Flipping through the pages on her clipboard she hummed, “Is there a particular instrument you’d like to play?” sweeping a hand across the room. “We could always use more violas, we have enough cellos, weirdly too many basses, but we could also stick you with the second violins?”

Kuroo didn’t quite know the difference between violas and violins but figured ‘second’ violins implied that there was also a ‘first’ violins group and that he’d be more likely to be able to hide in the back in a bigger group.

“Yeah,” he drawled out confidently, “I actually wanted to learn violin.”

“Okay, perfect. Here—” she motioned another student over. “Tetsuro-kun, meet Daisuke-kun.” Daisuke greeted Kuroo with a shallow bow and Kuroo responded with a head nod, mentally rolling his eyes at Daisuke’s subtle disapproval.

“He’s first chair of the second violins,” Jouda-sensei continued, “he’ll get you set up. Daisuke-kun, have him take one of the rentals and teach him the ropes. Today’s mostly getting people set up if they don’t have their own instruments and playing through potential setlists,” she explained while twirling her pen in her right hand. “Testsuro-kun, you’re our only new violin which means everyone can help you learn—take today to be comfortable with an instrument in your hands and observe your classmates!” she finished, walking away.

“I’m Sato Daisuke, a second year,” Daisuke reintroduced, emphasizing his year.

“Kuroo Tetsuro, third year,” he said smugly.

“Ah—okay,” Daisuke said standing straighter, “Kuroo-san, follow me,” turning towards the back of the room.

Chuckling Kuroo said, “Just Kuroo’s fine—you’re technically my senior here since I’ve never played violin before.”

Stuttering a bit and covering it with a cough, Daisuke nodded once. He stood in front of a wall of neatly labelled cubbies and pulling a black rectangular case out, he handed it to Kuroo. Explaining the rules of the rental and making him sign a form, Daisuke taught Kuroo how to properly tighten the bow, use rosin, clean the instrument, and taught him simple exercises to practice posture.

Fiddling a bit with the shoulder rest as Daisuke excused himself for a second, Kuroo ran through the exercises to get himself acquainted with the feel of the violin under his chin and a bow in his right hand. It was uncomfortable, he noted. His left shoulder wanted to scrunch up towards his face, his left wrist wanted to press towards the neck of the violin, and he couldn’t comfortably hold his bow. For the first time in a while, Kuroo felt out of his element—he felt as though his body couldn’t do what he wanted it to do. He felt awkward and unsure and the back of his neck prickled as he caught other students look his way.

Finally, Daisuke came back. Holding a thin blue book in his hand he explained, “This’ll teach you the basics of reading music. The thickest string on the left is G, followed by D, A, and E. Notes go in order of A through G and it just repeats.” Making sure Kuroo was following along, he continued. “So, If we start on the G string and put a finger down,” he moved over to place Kuroo’s index finger on the first tape, “what note is this?”

“A?”

“Yup, great. Follow the tapes for where you should put your fingers, I taught you how to tune and you need to study and practice every night so you’ll be able to partially follow along in class.”

Head a little dizzy with the new information but also proud to have understood some of the basics, Kuroo nodded. Daisuke took Kuroo to the back of the group, explained to a student who Kuroo was, then took his place towards the front.

Kuroo’s stand partner was a first year—Hayato. He’d been doing orchestra since middle school, didn’t take private lessons like many of the other students, but enjoyed orchestra enough to continue in high school as a hobby. Although a little awkward, Hayato was patient when giving Kuroo a more detailed explanation of reading music, since six years of piano lessons had completely left him, and set him up with basic exercises.

“You need to make sure your left wrist is down and relaxed,” Hayato said, tapping a pencil to Kuroo’s inner wrist. “Also, your bow grip is atrocious, but that’s one of the hardest things for a beginner.” He showed Kuroo how the bow was supposed to be held, stressing how it should look relaxed and curved.

Making small adjustments while Kuroo shakily moved the bow across the strings, Hayato said, “Sensei will probably have you come during study hall to practice, but you need to practice at home too or Sato-san and the concertmaster will probably chew you out.”

Bow stuttering crookedly across the strings, making Sato tut at him, Kuroo paused. “The concertmaster,” he asked disbelievingly. “What is that?” imagining some despotic conductor in long tuxedo trails and a clipboard.

Laughing at his confusion, Hayato explained. “The concertmaster is the first chair violinist. In orchestra they’re like the leader of the group. They tune the group, come out second to last before the conductor during concerts, make decisions on bowings, and everyone kinda follows their lead.”

Nodding to himself Kuroo said, “Okay, so he’s like,” he trailed off, “the captain of the team?”

“Exactly. Except she’s a third year like you and pretty well known in the music scene in our area, y’know.”

Frowning at his assumption he admitted, “Ah, okay so,” he trailed off, “concertmistress? I play volleyball, I don’t really know music.”

Hayato laughed and Kuroo raised a brow. “I mean obviously—you don’t really look like a violinist.”

Affronted Kuroo said, “Oi, what does that mean?”

“Kuroo-san, you’re like, huge,” Hayato squeaked out.

Trying not to preen, Kuroo waved his hand and turned his head towards the front of the class.

Jouda-sensei stood on her podium and tapped her baton on the raised stand in front of her. “Hi everyone, good to see all of you again. We have a few new faces so make sure to welcome them and help them out. I’m super excited for our potential set list this year, but before I pass out the folders, let’s a hear a few words from our concertmistress!”

With scattered applause and stomping, a girl rose to the podium as Jouda-sensei stepped off. Holding her violin and bow in her left hand she beamed at the class. Briefly introducing herself and sharing her excitement for the year to make music with everyone, Jouda-sensei interrupted her return to her seat.

“For the first rehearsal, how about you formally tune us?” Jouda-sensei offered.

“Aw, no it’s okay—some people are beginners and all the section leaders already took care of it right?”

Next to her, her stand partner threw an eraser at the podium making her scowl. “Just do it, her stand partner complained,” drawing laughter from the class.

Giving her partner the finger, hidden from their sensei’s view, she laughed good naturedly and straightened her shoulders.

All of a sudden, Kuroo noted, the atmosphere in the room changed. Students were no longer whispering to each other, playing random tunes, or shuffling in their seats. Everyone’s eyes were on her at the podium. She offered an open palm and nodded towards the back of the room. A single note penetrated the silence.

She swept her hand towards the back and Kuroo was suddenly flooded with the sound of the deep and rich brass section. After a few seconds, she repeated the process and the woodwind instruments close to Kuroo in the back began to tune.

Hayato leaned towards Kuroo. “Before concerts and rehearsals everyone should’ve tuned beforehand. This more for last minute checks and also a show for the audience. The order and how many sections tune at once is usually decided between the concertmaster and the conductor—Kuroo-san, we’ll tune last.”

Nodding in appreciation, Kuroo turned his attention back to the podium. The woodwinds trailed off and after a beat of silence, she nodded once again for the tuning note to be played and she waved her hand towards the cellos and basses at her right. The gravelly resonance of the strings filled Kuroo with a strange sense of full contentment and marveled at the size of the basses, whose strings seemed to be quadruple the thickness of his own.

Finally, the concertmaster gave one last nod and tucked her violin under her chin. Hearing the drone of the pitch, everyone around Kuroo began to tune. Unsure of what to do, he stumbled to mimic Hayato who was adjusting his tuners. Since Sato Daisuke already tuned his instrument, Kuroo just played open strings and waited for the rest of his section to stop. Glancing to his left at Kuroo’s right hand, Hayato whispered sharply, “Keep your pinky curved!”

.

After tuning, folders were passed out to each student, filed with sheet music. Hayato organized the sheets on their stand.

“Since you’re on the inside—the left hand side of the stand—your job is to turn my pages,” he explained. “It’ll be good practice to see if you can follow along even if you can’t read, but no worries if you want to spend today just watching and listening.”

Thanking Hayato and teasing when he fumbled in embarrassment, Kuroo spent the rest of class in awe. Although the group was seeing the pieces for the first time, he couldn’t help the goosebumps on his arms as the orchestra came together. Even when he heard Hayato miss a note, noticed when the conductor would glare at a section, or when they had to stop and regroup, listening to individual instruments try come together as one left Kuroo wanting to be a part of it. From the inside, he watched as bows moved in unison and fingers slid up and down the necks of stringed instruments. He was hyper aware of the instruments behind him providing support to the main melody, and leaned towards them to catch their individual parts.

He set his gaze towards the front of the room and watched the concertmaster. Powerful yet graceful, her bow made sure movements across the strings, fingers moving quickly and accurately. Her body swayed with the music and her face, unlike Hayato’s, was not one of extreme concentration. She seemed focused as she watched the conductor and indicated entrances to her section through her body, but despite the multi-tasking, it was clear to Kuroo that she was having fun.

She trusted her section to follow along, for her stand partner to flip the pages at the right times, and for the rest of the orchestra to do their parts. When Jouda-sensei made the class begin again, she would lean towards her stand partner and share whispered giggles and Kuroo caught the glint of shiny pink polish and traced the way her hair fell across her shoulders.

He knew what being a captain was like—he had been captain since he was voted in at the end of his second year and he wondered how long she’d been playing for, how much she practices, and how she encourages her section. He wondered what the differences and similarities were between leading a team and an orchestra were—the differences and similarities between them, even.

At the end of class Kuroo promised to himself to practice a little every day to be able to play with the group and hold his own. For the rest of the school day, he idly hummed the melodies they had played in class and replayed images of bows and hands moving in unison.

.

In the club room before practice, Kuroo came in with his violin case. Greeting his teammates, he started to change.

Loosening his tie and pulling his sweater over his head, Kuroo heard Lev ask about his case. Swapping his school top for his practice one, Kenma responded.

“Kuroo’s taking orchestra for his arts credit.”

“Why would you take a band credit, you should’ve taken sculpture like I did,” Yamamoto exclaimed proudly.

“Your sculptures were ugly,” Kenma said evenly, over the sounds of his video game.

Before Yamamoto could respond, Fukunaga menacingly shook his water bottle at the two of them causing Kenma to turn his back and hunch defensively over his game.

Narrowing his eyes at Kenma, Yamamoto turned his attention back to Kuroo who was idly flipping through the practice book Daisuke had given him.

“Yeah Kuroo, band classes are so much work when you’ve gotta learn the instrument, why’d you enroll?”

Before Kuroo could respond Yaku jumped to Yamamoto’s side and jabbed him. “Band and orchestra are two different things you uncultured swine!”

Doubled over and grasping his stomach, Yamamoto glared tearfully at his senior, then directed his glare towards Lev who was slapping his knee in laughter.

“Kuroo-san,” Lev shouted, “can you play us something?” he asked excitedly.

Gaining the interest of the rest of the team, everyone crowded around Kuroo, nodding in unison. He rubbed the back of his head in uncertainty.

“I’ve literally just learned how to play. I don’t know if you’d really want me to.”

“We really want you to!” Lev said, encouraging him to open his case.

Begrudgingly, Kuroo went to his violin and briefly explained how to setup and tune, to the amazement of some of his teammates. Even Kenma peered curiously over his video game in the corner. He tucked the instrument under his chin, carefully held his bow and placed the hair on the A string and played. Kuroo focused intently on ensuring that his bow grip was loose, but secure, that his pinky and thumb were curved and that his bow was making straight lines across the string.

As Kuroo looked over to his teammates, he noticed Yaku’s shoulders starting to shake while he pointed a finger at him.

“I-Is that the best you can do?” Yaku nearly screamed, howling in laughter. “You’re not even moving your f-fingers!”

To Kuroo’s embarrassment, the rest of the team tried desperately to hold in their laughter and Lev deadpanned, “That kinda sucked, senpai.”

Stuttering out an indignant scoff, Kuroo’s brow furrowed, “I told you I just learned this today! A-and posture is important you heathens!” shaking his bow at Lev and Yaku.

#kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro drabble #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #nekoma high #nekoma haikyuu #kuroo tetsuro fanfiction #kuroo x y/n

[andromedasstarship]

in the stars - chapter 1

photo credit: @ssahotchnerr

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, show rating 16+ for reference. depictions of violence, stalking, murder, angst, age gap couple, drinking, brief mention of drugs.

summary - You finally meet the BAU, little progress is made in terms of the case. 

a/n - early update yay! i take a lot of liberties with movies that reader has starred in, pls dont take irl movie release dates into consideration here lol. more notes at the end 

blog rules 

masterlist // read it on ao3 here 

prologue // next chapter 

-----

Chapter 1 

Flights to California always took an extra toll on the team. Reid had explained it once, in a too long ramble, how the wind worked against the plane lengthening the flight at least an hour longer than the trip back home. 

Hotch was finding it difficult to focus on the files in front of him. The first photo he opened was of victim #3, with her eyes closed and face turned to the side, even Hotch could’ve been fooled that it was you lying there dead. While the rest of the team was mulling over the facts of the case, he was debating whether or not to tell the team about your history. The Unit Chief in him knew this was important information that had the potential to hinder the case; his relationship to you was too personal and his withholding of information could even turn him into a suspect. If the roles had been reversed with another member of the team, he’d have concerns over their ability to even be on the case. For now, Hotch forced himself to tune into the conversation the rest of the team was having; promising himself he’d figure out what to do later. 

“Garcia, what do we know about L/N,” Emily asked, turning ever so slightly towards the screen Garcia had just popped up on. 

“I’m glad you asked my dear Emily. Y/N L/N is totally Hollywood’s It Girl right now, it’s rumored you can’t even get a meeting with her without forking over at least twenty big ones. She’s never had a bad role in her career. Personally, my favorite movie she starred in was Mamma Mia, but like I said never a bad role,” Garcia paused for a moment, the sound of her typing filling the silence, “is it inappropriate for me to ask one of you to get her signature for-”

“Garcia,” Rossi interjected, “anything else we need to know about her right now?” 

“Sorry sir, I promise to be on my best professional behavior. But come on, remember when she swept the Oscars three years-”

Hotch felt himself detach from the conversation yet again, staring out the window as memories of the two of you flooded his brain. 

Three Years Ago 

The team had just finished a grueling case in Georgia. It was long, taking nearly two weeks to catch the unsub, in which he had managed to murder three additional couples right under their noses. Inclement weather forced them to stay another night until the storm passed, leaving them all stranded by the airport. In a turnaround way, being stuck gave them the rare opportunity to relax and bond as a team. Rather than all disappear to their own rooms for the night, they all packed into one small hotel room. Boxes of Chinese takeout were littered around the room, along with various bottles of alcohol. The Oscars were on that night and Hotch knew you’d be on the screen at some point, not wanting to miss it he proposed watching it to the team and they all happily agreed. While it was difficult with their schedules to be avid movie goers, they all were relatively familiar with the contenders for big awards such as Best Picture and Best Actor. 

You were nominated for two separate awards that night, along with starring in a film nominated for Best Picture. It had been a monumental year for you, with three separate feature films hitting theaters and all becoming major successes both financially and socially. You had spent so much time jet setting for press conferences and movie tours that you rivaled Aaron in terms of suitcase living. 

“Everyone shut up! They’re about to do Best Supporting Actress, oh I just know it’s going to be Y/N. Emily agree with me! We saw her in Little Women together, I cried. Oh don’t give me that look Emily, you cried too and you know it!” Penelope said enthusiastically, waving her chopsticks around. It was rare that Garcia ever came with on a case, but the location had been in a remote part of the state and they wanted to avoid being unable to reach her and her technical wizardry; a fact she was particularly grateful for, had this watch party been happening without her, she would’ve been so jealous.  

To anyone else, the grin on Hotch’s face would have been easily equated to the bickering going on between his friends and the effects of the few drinks he had thrown back. It was all for you though, he had caught glimpses of you on screen throughout the night and had snuck more than one glance at his phone to see the pictures of your outfit you’d sent him yourself. When the presenters walked on stage, Hotch sat up a bit straighter, his body naturally inching closer to the edge of his seat. The screen set up so the faces of all nominees and their reactions could be seen, Hotch’s eyes glued to the box you were in. 

“And the winner of Best Supporting Actress goes to…,” the first presenter started, slowly opening the envelope they held, “Y/N L/N!” The crowd roared and the camera focused in on you sitting stunned in your seat, surrounded by coworkers and friends. The team was cheering too, the liquor in their system loosening everyone up. Hotch clapping uncharacteristically loud and long even went unnoticed by the others. 

“I was right, I knew it!! I should start betting on this, you know what I bet I could hack into the system-” Garcia’s voice barely even registered in Hotch’s brain as he watched you. With one hand clasped over your mouth and the other holding your dress you made your way up the stairs and to the center of the stage. 

“Wow,” you started, eyes wide as you stared down at the award in your hands, slowly you looked back up into the crowd and continued, “I really mean it when I say I wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t even prepare a speech, I’m so sorry,” you paused again, the biggest smile plastered on your face as you quickly wiped a few tears threatening to fall, “thank you all so much, for supporting me and letting me do what I love. Thank you to my fellow coworkers who pushed me in this project and thank you so much to the fans who give me the strength to do this every day. Thank you! Thank you so much!” You ended, making your way back towards your seat. Hotch grinned as you flashed a wide smile to the camera following you, throwing a flirty winky that he knew was just for him.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. When you won again for Best Actress, you were barely able to contain yourself on stage, tears flowing freely down your face as you gave your thanks. The joy you felt in that moment was unlike anything you’d ever experienced in your life. At just 24, you had become the first person ever to win both awards in the same night. Hotch had actually jumped out of his seat at your second win, a motion that confused the rest of the team, but the liquor in everyone’s system forced them to ignore it; more glad than anything to see Hotch loosening up for once. 

After the team finally retreated into their own rooms for the night, Hotch wasted no time in texting you, asking if you were free to talk on the phone. His excitement palpable when not even a minute later your contact came up on the screen. 

“Aaron,” your excited voice came through the phone, just being able to hear you eased tension he wasn’t even aware he had been carrying, “can you believe it!” 

“Congratulations, Miss Double Oscar winner.” Even after a year of being together, his voice made you giddy. “Where are you?” He asked, unable to ignore the pounding sound of music and people in the background. 

“After party, top secret location Mr. Agent. I’m in the bathroom! Am I allowed to tell you I definitely see some residue of a line on the counter,” your voice was slurred and rushed, the energy of the moment combined with the liquor in your system causing your mouth to move faster than your brain, “probably not, ignore that. Where are you?” 

Aaron relayed various info about closing the case and what the team had gotten up to that night. When you began telling him about your night, he couldn’t help but feel insecure. Where he told you about $8 takeout meals and rural Georgia, you were talking about some of the biggest names in Hollywood and the luxury treatment you’d been subject to all night. He forced himself to focus on your voice anyway; not wanting to take this time ‘with’ you for granted. The two of you could’ve talked for hours, had it not been for Hotch pushing you to go enjoy the celebrations. 

“I’m so proud of you angel,” he said softly, voice swelling with adoration, “I’ll see you soon, I promise.” 

“I love you Aaron.” 

“I love you too Y/N.” 

When he finally hung up, he leaned against the wall with a sigh, running his hands through his hair. Relationship wise, it had been a tough year for the two of you. With your schedule busier than you’d ever expected, it meant seeing each other in person was nearly impossible. In good conscience you refused to take him away from Jack on the rare weekends he had off. Instead you’d fly in whenever possible, the two of you spending low profile nights together in fancy hotels or his house if Jack was away with friends. It was excruciating maintaining a relationship like this, but something about the success of the night made the sacrifices feel worth it. 

Present Day

“Look into her dating history, any exes that would want to hurt her?” JJ asked, her question pulling Hotch back into the present. Adjusting to the constant publicity you were subject to had been a learning curve for Hotch, the first time the tabloids ran a story of you photographed with some Hollywood Hunk his bad mood had the entire team walking on eggshells for a week. 

“According to my search she hasn’t dated anyone in years, or at least not publicly. I have a theory she’s secretly dating Henry Ca-.” Hotch zoned back out before Garcia could finish, having no interest in hearing or seeing whoever the media was speculating to be involved with you this time. Willing the plane to land faster, he ignored the faint voice in the back of his head that was telling him you were free to be with whoever you wanted. 

----

“If you’d follow me Miss L/N, the BAU has set up in the back conference room, they’ve been waiting for you.” Officer Reynolds said, her back to you as you followed her down the hallway. It was nearly 9am and you had spent the better half of the morning hyping yourself up to see Aaron for the first time in nearly two years. You made last second adjustments to your outfit; an outfit you definitely hadn’t spent all of last night picking out because you definitely did not want to look good for Aaron Hotchner. As Officer Reynolds moved to open the door you held your breath, thanking the years of experience in manipulating your outward expressions. When four heads turned in unison to look at you, you let out a sigh of relief. Aaron wasn’t in the room. 

“This is Y/N L/N. Miss L/N, meet the BAU,” Officer Reynolds said, extending her arm outwards towards the rest of the room, “I’ll leave you guys to do introductions, if you need anything, find me,” and with that she exited the room. A blonde woman stepped forward first, extending her hand out to you. You knew who she was before she even said her name. 

“My name is Jennifer Jareau, I’m the media liaison with the BAU.” She said, she gave you the same smile all the other officers had been giving you, but unlike theirs that reeked of pity, something in Jennifer’s felt authentic to you. After shaking hands with her, the rest of the room took a moment to introduce themselves. You never thought you’d meet Aaron’s team like this. Over the years, he had shown you countless photos of the team, along with hundreds of stories and tidbits concerning their lives. Even though you knew they had probably spent the entire flight to LA looking at your life, it still felt as if you had some creepy advantage over the situation. 

“The rest of our team, Agents Hotchner and Morgan, are currently doing some research in the field, but until they return we’d love to brief you and ask you a few questions, is that alright?” JJ asked, stepping backwards and motioning for you to take a seat at the round table. 

“Of course,” you quickly replied, moving to take a seat; internally you were laughing at the irony of her asking if it was alright, what would you do, say no? Looking up at the other three members still standing you motioned for them to sit as well, “I don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but I’d prefer if you all sat down too,” you paused, before adding, “kinda makes me feel like I’m back at school.” They seemed to smile at that, everyone else moving to find a seat at the table. Before the silence could turn uncomfortable, JJ spoke up again. 

“Does anyone else in your life know about the murders?” 

You shook your head no before replying, “my agent knows just in case I have to go underground and my security guard is aware, but besides them and the police, I haven’t told anyone.” 

“Go underground?” 

“Uh yea, a few years ago I had a stalker. I went ‘underground’ for about three months and the guy seemed to give up. The police have already cleared him, he hasn’t been to LA in over a year,” you explained. 

“That’s good to know. We want to keep your involvement in the case completely out of the media. I can only imagine you want that too,” JJ started, angling her body towards you, “I know you’re probably more than well versed in dealing with the press, but if anyone comes up to you asking about the murders we want you to completely disengage. And of course, don’t tell anyone else about what’s going on.” 

“Alright, now that that’s settled, we just have a couple questions for you,” Emily asked as she stood up, opening up a file from the table, “so what can you tell us about-” 

----

The dump site wasn’t showing any promise. Situated near a highway, the field was hidden from the road, yet still accessible by car. The constant stir caused by the speeding cars meant any leftover DNA or footprints were effectively blown away. 

“Our guy’s gotta be fit. The drop into the field is just steep enough he would’ve had to carry the body at least fifty feet to get it here from the road. He could’ve rolled it, but the bodies were too pristine to have been dropped on the ground like that.” Derek said, looking over at Hotch. The two of them were standing at the edge of the road, looking down at the now empty field. “Not only that, but this is a nice spot. Normally places like this so close to a highway are filled with trash, do you think he might’ve cleaned up?” 

Hotch was silent as he considered this, before slowly nodding, “it’d make sense if he did. Everything we have concerning his treatment to the victims post mortem has been nothing but affectionate.” 

“Do you think there could be two unsubs?” Derek asked, when Hotch looked at him with mild confusion he continued, “All the victims were strangled to death, ME report assumes it was by hand. It takes a lot of strength and persistence to kill someone by hand like that, not only that but it’s intimate, he’s staring them in the face as he kills them. The level of care displayed here seems way more than just remorse.” 

Hotch took another moment to consider Derek’s proposition before shaking his head, “we’ll keep it in mind, but it’s clear whatever connection he has to L/N is personal, at least to him. These women could be failing to replicate some part of her personality and in his rage he kills them. But when they’re silent and unmoving, their likeness to L/N lets him fall back into the fantasy, hence the care.” 

“We should start heading back, Reid just texted me they’re almost done with the initial briefing with L/N, and we should meet her before she takes off for the day.” Derek said, putting his phone back in his pocket before turning on his heel to head back to the car. Hotch’s shoulders tensed at the idea of seeing you, looking back at the field once more. Giving the field one last look, he felt a shiver run up his spine at the idea of finding you in a field like this. Shaking the idea out of his, he turned to join Derek in the car. 

Hotch took the driver's seat, glad to be able to use the road as a needed distraction from the impending face to face. The drive was only twenty minutes, but Hotch didn’t think any time would truly be long enough to prepare himself to see you again. He found himself wondering if anything would be different from the last time he saw you. Did you still smell the same? You had always been quite adamant about your preference for scented lotion, rather than perfumes. What if you completely changed your hair? Were you worrying about seeing him as much as he was? 

“You think she’s gonna be easy to work with?” Derek asked, breaking Hotch out of his mental spiral. 

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N, you know, “Hollywood’s It Girl”,” Derek explained, “if she’s as in demand as Garcia said she was-”

“While we work this case Morgan, I expect you to conduct yourself appropriately,” Hotch interjected, his voice tight, “we treat Y/N the way we would anyone else, do I make myself clear?” His eyes not leaving the road at all, knuckles tight around the steering wheel. 

“Crystal,” Derek responded, raising his hands up in mock surrender. 

As they turned into the parking lot, Hotch scanned the parking lot before finally noticing your car parked in the back of the lot. You used to always park as far as you could, constantly complaining about how people in parking lots stressed you out and you wanted to be able to drive in and out as easy as possible. The corners of his lips turned up, ever so slightly, thinking maybe nothing had really changed for you, at least in that regard. 

“You go ahead, I’m just going to send a message to Jack real quick,” Hotch lied, pulling his phone from his pocket. Derek nodded and got out of the car, quickly entering the building. Hotch put his phone down in his lap and gripped the steering wheel once more. You were one of the few people to ever wind him up this way; it had been like that from the first day he met you, as if you managed to make him melt under your gaze. Five minutes, he would give himself five minutes to pull himself together before letting the Unit Chief in him take over. 

----

“I’m sorry, I just, can I take a break,” you asked, looking up at the agents who were still grilling you about facets of your life you never would’ve considered relevant, “I just need to get some air.” Without really waiting for permission, you were pushing back on your chair to stand up. Slinging on your thin jacket you exited the room, heading for the entrance of the building. The agents had been kind, but you were starting to feel a bit useless. Each time they had a new theory, you came up short in terms of material for them to actually use. They kept reassuring you that what you were able to come up with was helpful, but you weren't convinced. 

You had been in and out of this office so many times, your body went into autopilot as you made your way to the entrance, not even pausing to look up as you started to push open the door. What you missed was the distinct outline of a body pulling the door open at the same time. The added force made you stumble, nearly crashing straight into the man on the other side. Brown eyes met yours and you both froze, uncertain of what to say before speaking at the same time. 

“Y/N.”

“Agent.”

-----

a/n - wow wow! things are gonna start moving in the next chapter, i promise. the response to ‘in the stars’ so far has been so heartwarming. ive said it before, but this is my first fic and i cant even fathom that people are actually interested in what im writing. your support means the world! im trying to get stuff written before university starts up again, but i dont want to nix quality for faster updates so if updates slow down im sorry! comments always appreciated. leave a reply or ask if youd like to be added to the taglist! if you requested before but arent added, just ask again i mustve missed it on accident 

Taglist: @mac99martin​ @iwaizumiee​ @kylorendrip​ @hqtchner​ @lieswithoutfairytales​ @ssahoodrathotchner​ @midsummernightdream​ @weasleylovers​ @evans-dejong​

no permission is given to republish or upload my fics anywhere else. if you see this story not on my tumblr or ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own criminal minds or any of the characters involved

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #hotchner #in the stars #'stori writes #in the stars chapter 1