#workplace romance is not allowed or at least keep it low | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amidstsaltandsmoke · 3 years

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prompt 142 👀

...anon, I promise I didn't forget about you! Life™ and writers block/doubt had me stuck for a while. Apologies that this was sent something like 5ish weeks ago? I originally had a whole other idea written for this one but didn't like it and scrapped it. Not sure how much I like this one but I hope that you do!! Someday I will learn how to write an actual drabble-sized drabble. Thank you for sending the prompt!💛 P.S. I changed the wording around a little bit, I hope you don't mind :) ________________________ Prompt: “Hold my hand so he gets jealous.” Dany was a master at these types of work events by now, but the past few weeks, especially, had been draining. That was typical for a start-up, when they were trying to garner as much outreach as possible. Traveling between two different states and another country and back in the span of 7 days was a whole other animal, however.

This affair was meant to be a little more informal, but the air was still stuffy with corporate suits slithering about. Her favorite colleague and come-to-be wonderful friend had been working with her to get the head honchos drunk the quickest, that way they would be less inclined to hover and more likely to forget the goings on entirely.

But it wasn’t any of that that had her so on edge. It was that Jon was acting particularly distant ever since they’d all arrived nearly three hours ago now, and he seemed to almost be evading her.

Jon Snow, the young visionary who co-founded the company alongside her, who developed the technology that was rapidly playing a vital role in detecting and detaining human traffickers. That was sexy all on its own, but tonight he was dressed in a crisp, slim black suit, his dark locks half pulled back behind his head, his short beard trimmed just a little more for the gala.

They'd spent many a late evening and early morning in the office and over video conference working out the kinks of their start-up, smoothing wrinkles and always doing their best to stay ahead of their goals, where seeing one another so groomed and freshened up it was almost jarring. Typically - especially by the end of their days when work ran over - they'd been too riddled with exhaustion to bother keeping up physical appearances. There were more important matters that needed tending. And plus, as magnificent as he looked now, when he was a little disheveled with his riotous curly hair strewn about his head, his black thick framed glasses, his button-down loosened at the collar...there was an odd sort of comfort she found with that, and in knowing he was comfortable enough in her presence to relax.

She devoted so much of her young life to this dream and to have found someone just as driven, reliable, and enthusiastic about it was beyond her hopes and dreams.

But it also came with some side effects.

Months of time spent together between just the two of them had, inadvertently, created a wild storm of feelings for him. She found herself thinking about him on her days off and in her time away from the office, of which she spent more there than home these days. Dinner was more frequently than not held in one of their offices, depending on how they were feeling by the end of a strenuous day - his was always cooler with the air conditioning turned so low she oftentimes wondered how he didn't get hypothermia sitting in there.

On the other hand, she cranked up the heat in hers, and she received mirroring grumbles from Jon, how his northern skin would simply melt and she'd be left scooping him up off the floor.

To her advantage, however, that meant loosened layers of clothing, sometimes less of it if she were lucky. The same went to his benefit, too; he thought she didn't notice his wandering eyes, but of course she did. Just as she felt she was smooth enough to get a study on his stacked arms when he would remote even his button-down and left himself in a snug white or black plain t-shirt. That occurrence only happened once; she possibly hadn't been as discreet about her ogling as her mind had told her. Not when the cotton fiber was stretched so perfectly over his broad, muscular chest and fit his biceps like a rubber glove.

Sometimes, in the last hour of the day when they were already working well over their regular time, they would give themselves a break and kick back. They dove into topics ranging from favorite movies to deeper subjects like their most fucked up childhood memory. It turned out they had quite a lot in common, which fed into her ever-growing "things I adore about Jon Snow" bank that she stored away in her mind.

The trouble was, workplace romance was simply not allowed. At least, not within the same departments, and it still required paperwork to be filled out with an assortment of terms and agreements to abide to. Considering they were co founders together, that made things trickier.

Neither of them spoke any of this into the atmosphere, but it was palpable, and it got more torturous as time went on. Jon was the stronger one out of the two of them, and she knew he would never act on anything if it meant she could get let go or demoted. Their CEO could be a little bit of a hardass when it came down to company policies, but Dany was convinced they could find a way to make things work.

That included doing so behind everyone's backs. In all of the time they spent together without other company, Dany could count on one hand how many times there was ever anybody else in the building besides them when they were pulling extra hours. They could easily keep their hands to themselves during the day around their colleagues. At least, she thought so. It would at least make for a very exciting night cap to the day once they were able to be alone.

Missandei and Oberyn were the only two people she could trust to confide in, and to also keep it between just the three of them. Thus far, they did nothing but root for her luck to change, that maybe one of them would just bite the bullet and finally hook up. She was quite tired of skirting around it when she was with Jon, and the tension that thickened between them was going to reach a breaking point.

If she didn’t do something soon, if not just to confirm that he had it as bad as she did, she would wind up doing something impulsive, like pouncing on him one of these days when nobody was around. Or, possibly, when they had an audience.

Dany turned around and scanned the room until she latched onto him, where he was shaking hands and chatting up other people. He was not the tallest man in the world, but his presence was demanding, despite his humbleness. Every now and again, even in conversation, he would look up and around as if seeking something or someone. A little foolishly, she hoped it was her, though even in heels she was below average height compared to most everyone else in the room and would be a little difficult to locate.

"Go get that ass, girl," Oberyn growled into her ear, whacking her bum with the back of his hand, to which she promptly slugged his arm.

"Ouch!" He hissed, rubbing at the offended area. His smugness returned soon after, lips ticking up at the corners. "You'd better save that strength, you will need it later!"

He was darting off into the crowd with a chortle before she could scold him, and it took all of her professional mind to not flip off his retreating back.

“So...how are you going to seduce the elusive Jon Snow?” Missi inquired with a sassy eyebrow raised, her nearly-empty drink clutched in her hand.

Dany sighed, trying to not be too obvious as she observed him flitting from person to person. “I’m starting to think I’d imagined the entire thing,” she muttered with some frustration.

Missi pouted. “I don’t know about that. Not only are there a lot of snitches here that are probably keeping him at arms’ length, but have you not noticed Jon only goes to these things if you’re here?”

Dany frowned, finally tearing her eyes away from Jon to gape at her friend. “What? No, he’s gone to plenty without me, I’m sure of it…”

But was she? In hindsight, now that she really thought about it, there was never a social work event that Jon ever reported to her when she couldn’t make it. She could recall a handful where she went for the both of them, because he would much rather stay lat to play catch-up than mingle with large groups of people, and whenever there was news or gossip, he was the first person she’d save it for.

“You need to make him show you that he wants you just as bad as you want him. I’m sure he has the same fantasies-”

“Missi,” Dany drawled, tilting her head back and scrunching up her face. Yes, she and Missi may have shared almost daily secret huddles in the office, most of which entailed Dany agonizing over Jon Snow haunting her dreams on a regular basis. Rather than his hands rolling up his sleeves because the air was stifling, it was him doing so and crawling over her. Instead of him crouching down near her feet to pick up the pen he’d just dropped, it was him lowering himself to lift up the hem of her skirt and situate his face between her thighs. Sometimes it was sweeter than that: his hands sweeping wisps of hair away from her face when she gave up on it at the end of the day, or he would say “fuck it” to a prticularly agitating project and would gather her up and they would hold eah other on his office couch.

Reality was reflective of the sweetness of her wandering thoughts, just much less physical. They always texted each other when they each got home safely. By now, they’d each memorized their favorite go-to take-out preferences for various restaurants. If someone was having a rougher-than-usual day, one would send the other home and stay longer to cover them (if they were both having an equally terrible day, it came down to a couple rounds of rock-paper-scissors).

All things friends would do for one another, sure, except for the unbearable pull between them that was almost a physical thing.

In recent weeks, they began texting each other regularly, and most of it did not pertain to work, unless they were poking fun at it. A handful of times, Jon snapped photos of something of interest of Dany’s, and his message screamed “this made me think of you” without the actual words. It was the subtext. Usually something along the lines of, “didn’t you mention you were looking for this for about a million years?” in regards to a really cute coffee bar that had been sold out in her favorite color, a lemon yellow, that Jon had managed to find. And reserved for her special so nobody would snatch it up.

Or the multiple times he would share photos of his beautiful snow-white dog, Ghost, in various odd positions, or making strange faces, and adding something like: “a nightcap to your shitty day?”

And Dany loved to return the favor, though it was no competition. She just genuinely adored making him smile. Sometimes it was taking the piss out of him when he was extra grumpy, which immediately put him in a lighter mood. It was also bringing in an obnoxious box of coffee to share between them during the early dawn hours when nobody should be congregating for work-related endeavors at such an ungodly time. Just last week, he had been fidgeting more than usual and was noticeably distracted. When she had inquired what the issue was, he mentioned that Ghost was probably crossing his legs at that point since Jon was running late. As Dany had another errand to run before stopping home, she’d offered to let him out since Jon had a late conference that evening, and he had been all-too-happy in handing her over his keys.

The snort from Missi that invaded Dany’s thoughts had her turning her head toward her friend, who looked doubtful. “Probably every sane person in this room has had a fantasy about you. Jon is at the very top of that list."

Dany grimaced. "Please don't say things like that when I have to look all these people in the eye tonight.”

She weighed Missi’s words, but nothing came to mind right away. Jon appeared too distracted to notice anything she did anyway, and she also didn’t want to come off as desperate, especially if it might raise suspicions amongst others in the ballroom.

Then an idea struck her when she spotted Oberyn once more. Their marketing sleuth, and someone she had grown fond of because of his warm demeanor toward everyone he met. He was the friends-with-everyone type, and he was flagging her down as if he’d read her mind, so she excused herself and weaved through the crowd until she reached him.

Oberyn pecked each of her cheeks, even though he’d just seen her a little while ago, then held her out by her arms and gave her a slow once-over as if he’d only been seeing her for the first time that night. With anyone else, she would have balked, but she knew him well enough to understand it was a platonic gesture. Once his eyes reached hers again, his dark brow lifted to his hairline. “How has the white wolf kept his paws off of you this long?”

Dany scowled, flicking his shoulder. “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself for the past several months.”

“Well, what’s the hold-up?”

Sighing, Dany made a secret peek behind Oberyn where Jon was moving closer. Briefly did their eyes lock, and she turned back to Oberyn. “Hold my hand,” she said, extending her own for his.

“Why? So he gets jealous?” Oberyn drawled, snatching up her hand and taking it a step further by pressing a kiss to the top of it.

“Maybe,” she replied, straightening her spine by her boldness.

They conversed for some time, getting cozy and giggling away and eventually were joined by some of their other colleagues. When someone made a point to question why they were holding hands, Oberyn was quick on his feet in explaining that there were no rules to dating across different departments, only if two people worked in the same one. But it soured her stomach.

After she and Oberyn stayed that way for a short time, chatting about things she could barely bring herself to care much about as Jon edged past them, her shoulders slumped as she twisted about to watch him make a beeline for the bar.

“Daenerys,” Oberyn called to her sympathetically, “go to him. You’re not going to get anywhere if you keep up this silly game,” he explained and wiggled their conjoined hands, gently returning hers to her.

She swallowed and nodded, feeling childish that she even considered making such a move. Most of the guests were out on the dance floor, so it was easier to maneuver around to get to the bar where Jon had just collected his drink. Her nerves were wrecked, and this time it was the uncertainty of what reaction she may get, despite her earlier confidence.

As he was turning around, she observed him downing a quick shot before he realized she was there. He returned the glass to the counter and gave her his full attention. “Hey,” he rasped, his throat likely still burning from the liquor.

The pessimistic thoughts ate at her once more. “Hey. I didn’t think you’d show up tonight.” She tried for casual conversation, though it sounded forced even to her own ears.

Shrugging, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Figured I ought to make an appearance. You look nice, by the way.”

The tight smile he produced felt uncharacteristically forced, almost nervous. She shifted on her heeled feet, her mouth suddenly parched, her words half choked out. “Thanks. So do you,” she drew in a silent breath, and decided she couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you alright?”

“Aye, just...tired,” he landed on, but she wasn’t convinced. Before she could dig a little deeper, his attention fell on something behind her. She followed his gaze and caught Oberyn heading their way. She wasn’t sure what to make of his determined expression, but something about it made her a little queasy.

“I should probably go before your boyfriend gets upset,” Jon murmured just loud enough for her to hear; he didn’t give her a chance to catch him before she realized what he’d said and disappeared on her.

Oberyn stopped just short of Dany. “What was that all about? It looked like you needed rescuing.”

Pressing her eyes closed, Dany silently cursed herself. “I’m an idiot, that’s what happened. I’ll catch you later,” she cut him an apologetic glance and squeezed his arm before trailing in the direction of where Jon slunk off to.

___________________

The damned ballroom and her petite height made it hard to see above anyone, but luckily she was able to locate him by asking around if anyone had seen him. When she was notified he had mentioned he wasn’t feeling well and wanted to take off without any commotion, her heart sank. She was a damn fool, and now she was half running in six-inch heels, the skirt of her dress hiked up so she wouldn’t land herself a concussion, hoping beyond hope he hadn’t reached the parking lot yet.

She almost passed him up when she barged her way outside, frantically searching over the lot, breathless, to spot his car. A movement to her left made her jump, her hand flying to her chest until Jon stepped beneath the dim patio light and let her breathe again.

"Bloody hells," she exhaled, observing him as he put out his cigarette with his shoe and tossed the butt into the trash.

"Sorry," he chuckled, once more sheltering his hands inside his pockets as he turned his shadowed eyes on her.

"I didn't know you smoked," she mused, still trying to calm her heart.

Jon ducked his head, and she thought she caught a smirk on him, but it was too dark to tell. "Only sometimes. What are you doing out here, anyway?"

So much for giving her heart time to settle - now it kickstarted tenfold. There was no way to be honest without the whole truth. She supposed now was as good a time as any, best as they didn't have an audience. "I was hoping to catch you before you'd left," she paused, his gaze lifting and resting hard on her. So intense that she averted hers to her feet while she sounded her admission. "Oberyn isn't my boyfriend."

After a moment of silence, she sought his reaction. He lifted a shoulder "It's not my business, Dany."

"No. It is, because…," she took a half step closer, then squeezed her eyes shut. It sounded so childish to even say it. "I'd asked him to do me a favor so that it might make you jealous."

It came out so quickly she didn't think he understood half the words. But he was frowning when she braved opening her eyes again. "And why would you want to do that, Dany?"

His voice fell an octave lower, practically purring, and it left her momentarily stunned in place even as he began to close in on her. The use of her nickname in such a manner was leaving her in a delirious state. By the time he stopped, just a hair’s breadth short of their toes touching, she was having to tilt her head up to see him. Even despite the added height of her shoes. Somehow, her voice didn't quiver with the hopeful anticipation that was setting her nerves alight.

With whatever scrap of courage she had left, she voiced it into the world. "Because I really, really, really like you, and it's been torture trying to piece together whether the feeling is mutual, or if it's a figment of my imagination."

His frown returned, deeper than before, his eyes darting between each of hers. "How could you ever think it's one-sided?" He asked gruffly, and a knot firmly wrapped around her throat. Maybe that was a good thing, to prevent her from saying anything that would break the spell. “You occupy my mind ninety percent of the time,” he said, “the other ten is me trying to figure out how to stop thinking about you for five bloody minutes so I can get work done without being distracted.”

She huffed out a breath of relief, finally allowing herself to smile. It was good that it was night time so the red sweeping over her cheeks was well hidden. Still, she ducked her head to give herself a moment to dwell on his confession. His finger gently encouraged her to come back to him though, and suddenly the air between them was thin, his breath puffing against her lips.

A raucous shriek just a little way over inside the building made them both jump apart, a group of intoxicated people bowling their way through the double doors and out onto the patio. One of them slurred their apology as they stumbled out into the parking lot, exclaiming about how they couldn’t wait to get their hands on a fat greasy burger and then throw it up later. There couldn’t have possibly been anything much better at ruining the mood than that.

Jon huffed when he looked at her, rubbing at his forehead. No doubt his heart was beating just as violently against his chest as hers was. Without a word, he snatched up Dany’s hand and tugged her into the grassy area, hidden behind the solid wall of the venue. After double checking over his shoulder, he pressed himself against the rough brick wall and pulled her flat against him while she gasped, gently sweeping away small wisps of hair that got in his way.

His hand cradling her jaw, he finally, finally, dipped his head until his lips were brushing over hers. Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head, overstimulated by months of need for him, her hand fisting his shirt whilst the other curled around the back of his neck. His hands cuffed her waist and kept her close, the tips of his fingers digging into the fleshy bits of her hips when she nudged open his mouth to slip her tongue into the hot confines of his.

The low groan he elicited forced one of her own from her throat, and then everything was escalating at a dizzying pace; their hands were roaming everywhere they could reach, exchanging nips and licks and everything inbetween until they were forced apart for air. Where she had wedged her thigh between his, she could feel the hard evidence of his arousal, and if it weren’t for the consequences she would have her way with him in the dirt and the grass. Thorn bushes be damned.

“We should probably take this somewhere else,” he whispered, winded, and she was happy that he wasn’t about to suggest they stop altogether.

She nodded before the last word was out. “Okay. What did you have in mind?”

Jon considered their surroundings carefully, then grabbed her hand.

_______

Their seatbelts were thrown off so hard, Dany was surprised they hadn’t accidentally shattered Jon’s car windows with the force. They’d snuck off into the parking lot and after a heady makeout session, Jon decided they ought to find somewhere a little more private, settling on a nearby park where the only source of light was several yards away.

The second he cut the engine they crashed together, pawing at one another until he dragged her over onto his lap. His hands molded to her ass, but the material of her dress made him growl with frustration that it didn’t allow him the access he desired, so he slid them beneath and his head smacked back against his headrest when he discovered she’d foregone panties with a groan between his teeth.

Dany moaned as his fingers kneaded her bare flesh, and she took advantage of the new exposure of skin down the column of his neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses and tiny bites where the collar of his dress shirts could mask.

Jon shifted his legs and bumped into the steering wheel with a crack. “Ouch, fuck,” he grumbled, and she realized their current position wasn’t very practical if they wanted things to go any further.

“Are you okay?” Dany asked against his clammy skin, reaching behind her to smooth her hand over the offended kneecap.

“More than,” he replied, curling his fingers around to her inner, upper thighs and making her tremble. He was so close to her cunt that she could feel his heat against it, and her forehead fell against his chest, her hips rocking to seek the friction she so desperately needed. But he never gave her it; in fact, he seemed keen on doing just the opposite, skimming his fingers just at the juncture, trailing them down the length of her thighs, squeezing her ass on the way up each time.

Even when she was left a writhing mess and kissed him savagely, popped open the first couple of buttons so she could get more of him, he still refused to touch her there.

For now.

Jon pulled at her bottom lip, his voice a low, husky whisper. “We’ll have more room in the back seat.”

“What are your intentions, Jon Snow?” She inquired with feigned innocence.

With a light smack to her bum, he chewed on his bottom lip. “Get back there and I’ll show you.”

It took some finagling, but soon enough they were in the more spacious back seats, and she quickly unstrapped her heels. Jon’s shoes were next, and then he was helping her out of her dress, carefully rolling it upward until it was off of her, leaving her completely exposed for his viewing. His arms froze in the air, her dress still clutched in his hands as he took her in. The light didn’t illuminate much, but it was enough to see one another clearly.

Since he was so enlightened by her breasts, she giggled and rose onto her knees, taking her dress and letting it drop to the floor whilst she assisted him in removing his suit jacket. Once that was shed, he instantly filled his palms with her breasts, his thumbs sweeping over her pebbled nipples. He was lucky she had enough strength to not buckle under his touch, her teeth capturing her bottom lip in a hasty endeavor to rid him entirely of his clothing so she could return the favor.

Then she stilled, a thought occurring to her. “Are you sure you want to do this in your car? It might get messy…,” she noted as he briefly ceased his fondling to work on shedding his pants, his dark eyes gleaming in the light.

Once he made quick work of them, his jacket was next in the pile they haphazardly tossed up front. “It’ll give me something to think about on my commute,” he rasped, and it took her a beat to understand what he meant, unable to bite back a grin. By now her cunt ached for him and they’d only just started getting things moving.

Her hands slid over his shoulders, taking his shirt with it, the play of dim light and shadows over his sculpted body making her mouth go dry and her tongue thick and heavy in her mouth. Jon shifted up higher to free his arms, her fingers skimming down his chest and over the ebbs of his abdomen, eyes falling to where his cock was straining and hard in the cotton of his boxer briefs. Without anymore delay, Dany slipped her hand beneath the waistband and curled her fingers around the rigid, hot skin, twisting lightly until he was sucking sharp breaths of air through his teeth.

In a flash, he shucked off his boxer briefs and hooked an arm around her waist, ravaging her mouth. As he pressed tighter against her, his thick length nestled between her thighs, sliding along her cunt and forcing her mouth to pop open with a heady moan.

"You're soaked," Jon whispered harshly, his other hand clutched her ass cheek to keep her stationary, his breaths short puffs over her face as he slowly teased the both of them with long, slow strokes of his cock until he was thoroughly coated with her, their clammy foreheads thumping together.

Dany gripped his lats with her hands, trying to be mindful that she didn't score his skin with her nails, but barely had half a mind to care. She rolled her hips with him, her entire body quivering when he dragged his cock over her clit. The sounds erupting from her seemed to drive him mad as he echoed her.

She chanced a glimpse down between the narrow gap between them each time he pulled away, her peak so near the edge already that the sight of his wet, shiny cock disappearing between her thighs had her nearly coming just there. "I need you, Jon," she whimpered, grateful that he was as desperate as she felt. Any other time she would gladly drag it on, but she'd waited long enough to have this with him, and she was far too impatient to wait a second longer.

Carefully, she was lowered onto her back. They shared a few soft chuckles as they tried to figure out the most comfortable position for the both of them. Finally, she settled one leg off and planted the tips of her toes on the floor, the other tossed over his shoulder, while he knelt one knee on the seat and held himself up with the other on the floor.

He allowed himself some time to take her in all sprawled out for him, dragging the soft pads of his fingers down the length of her body just as she did his earlier. His hands stopped to gently massage her breasts, which were beginning to heave with anticipation, and he traced every curve of her body.

Dany swallowed, cuffing her hands around his biceps as he lowered himself to kiss her softly. Lips locked together, he nudged hers open, drawing in her upper lip and suckling on it, one hand braced near her head whilst the other made her squirm as it explored her hips, her inner thighs, until he have her exactly what she was near begging for. He barely glanced over her juices and she was moaning so loudly she was glad they'd gone somewhere more private.

Jon sucked over the soft skin just below her jaw and circled her clit with the flat of his fingers, her legs about as strong as jelly, head pressing into the seat and back arching into his touch. Jon growled at how reactive she was, his lips and tongue leaving a tinging trail down to her chest, not stopping until he pulled a nipple into his mouth and made her a wiggling mess beneath him.

His fingers added a little more pressure, gathering more of her up and ticking up his pace. Dany's mouth was dry from how harshly her lungs were begging for air, stomach sucked in and muscles going taut with the stimulation.

When he plunged a finger into her heat, she gasped sharply, and he paused all movement. "You alright?" He asked sweetly, pecking the corner of her mouth.

Dany nodded frantically, lifting her hips to get him to move again. "I'm...I'm not gonna last much longer," she practically squeaked.

A devilish smirk took over his face. "I'd better get to work then," he declared, then made her pout as he lifted to his knees and stretched himself between the front seats, searching.

It didn't take long for it to click. "I'm on birth control," she told him, and she snorted at his visible relief.

He resumed his position and his head rolled back. "Thank the gods. Pretty sure they don't equip new cars with condoms and mine are all at the house."

Dany giggled and grabbed for him, wanting him closer. "Wait, this is a new car?" Now that she actually thought about it, it did have that lingering 'new car smell', but she'd been so preoccupied with his distinct scent and getting him naked that she didn't notice at first.

"Aye," he responded, nipping her neck, "everyone says cars are the worst investment, but…,” he laved his tongue over one of her nipples and made her groan, “I beg to differ."

Dany smiled with a hum and smoothed her foot over his leg, too pleased and distracted by his attentions to think of a witty retort. Instead, she responded by canting her hips and grinding over his cock, his forehead dropping between her breasts, his curly head lifting to see her out. He took himself in hand and pumped a few times before lining up, and drove home in one slide, making stars burst between her eyes and a cry out into the night air.

Jon’s face distorted with a muffled grunt, giving them both time to adjust. He blew out a few long breaths, but she was too needy and languidly rolled her hips, stretching her arms as far down as she could and filling each hand with his marble-soft cheeks, gently encouraging him to move. She was out of her mind delirious as he set a pace that had them each panting and sweating, the mechanics of his ass under the grip of her hands and the slight burn of his cock pumping from root to tip and filling her entirely.

His responding, wolfish grunt and groans spurred her on, and she could tell he was trying to be gallant and hold back, but by the way his muscles were tensed and his movements became erratic, plus the twisting of his beautiful face, he was ready to let go and she was ready to fall with him.

Dany tilted her hips so that he was grinding over her clit, which sent her in a restless frenzy below him, whimpering and moaning and squirming with the build. "Fuck," he breathed, eyes fixed on hers, his teeth clenching and jaw muscle flexing. Dany lifted her hand above her head and braced it against the door, the other carding through his hair. She gave a soft tug to his damp locks which he seemed to enjoy, if the way his hips were snapping against her was any indication.

“Jon…,” Dany warned, he throat constricting against any more words she thought to utter, but it was enough for him to understand, the corded lines of muscle prevalent in his arms as he steadied himself and ground into her, and she broke in fragmented gasps and pleas of his name, a second wave overwhelming her already tender body as he leapt right after her.

His head fell against her shoulder with throaty grunts and groans, thrusting and then stilling as he spent inside of her. It was music to her ears. Her arms weakly found him, securing themselves over his back and easing his tired body down onto hers. He went without protest, carrying the brunt of his weight on one knee so he didn’t entirely crush her,

Part of her foggy mind wished they'd waited the extra ten minutes and taken this back to one of their houses so they could sleep right then, but the other parts of it were too thrilled by the idea of just going for it. "How am I to get through the work day without wanting to lock you up in my office?” Dany mumbled against his shoulder, pressing a kiss thereafter.

A groggy huff left him, the warmth of his breath tickling up her neck. After a moment and finally evening his breaths, he lifted his head, several damp strands of springy black curls falling over his face. “I know of a few less populated conference rooms with far less windows that we could sneak off to,” he smirked, her hands lifting to smooth away some of his hair so she could get a better look at him. Then, his expression morphed into one of mock sternness. “To go over our presentations without interruptions, I mean.”

With one brow arched and a sleepy giggle, she asked, “and how long have you been dreaming of using said rooms for these particular “work” activities?”

Jon sucked air through his teeth. “Longer than I’d ever admit,” he confessed.

“Sounds like I ought to report you for indecent thoughts,” Dany muttered, her head rising to kiss him softly.

He sighed against her and thumbed away some hairs at her temple, speaking against her lips when he needed air. “S’pose we ought to get out of here before someone finds us and we get reported for public indecency.”

Dany nodded, a tiny motion, pecking his still-swollen lips. “Okay,” she whispered. He pulled out of her with a wince and when he sat up, she bit her lip, getting a fuller view of him. Or, as much as she could in the slightly cramped backseat of his car. He was too much to resist, and she was quickly snatching his shirt out of his hands before he could pull it on over his head. “Wait,” she said, straddling his lap and easing his frown as his hands slid up her ribs. She braced her hands on his shoulders, smiling devilishly while his pupils grew dark and fat with want. “Let’s do it again.”

#jonerys #jonerys fanfic #jonerys quote drabble unquote #to the other anon that sent me two prompts i promise i also didn't forget you #working on that one next!#my drabbles

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bibbykins · 4 years

Text

Tandem Heartbeats and Close Calls

A/N: Hi everyone! I had started this little drabble forever ago and recently finished it in a half-asleep stupor, so I hope you can forgive the quality. It’s not my best work, but I do want to give the time I spent finishing it justice by posting. Also, I know a ton of people want some sort of part two or continuance for Embroidery, and I do too, so until I can muster a proper part-two, please enjoy this drabble... which is also me committing myself to a series of fight/make up drabbles for the soft yan boys. Either way, I hope you all enjoy and have a lovely day/night!

Pairing: Soft Yandere! (Embroidery) Kim Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: toxic relationship, unhealthy relationship, panic attack, sensory overload meltdown/reaction, mean/degrading words, dissociation (kinda), emotional manipulation- this is not a depiction of a good or healthy couple this is an installment in the dark romance that I write for a mature (18+ since the first installment is rated as such) audience and do not wish nor intend for anyone to glorify or strive for this kind of relationship and I do not think anyone in BTS would act like this at all IRL, this is a work of fiction depicting a relationship that could not exist as such or functionally IRL,I could go on for days about this but please know that much. Also if I left out anything else I should add in the warnings I am so sorry and please let me know.

Summary: He just wanted to stand up for you and you just wanted to stand on your own. The thought of you doing anything on your own, without him, shakes him to his very core.

You hated tension. You hated anger and the silence that came from having no words to properly express emotions. Yet, here you were with Taehyung, sitting in his living room as he paced wildly, the both of you still in your work clothes. The disagreement turned full-blown fight stemming from an issue that seemed so silly to you.

You looked at your nails, chipping off the polish as you spoke, “I don’t see why you’re overreacting to misogyny in the workplace like this.” You mumbled, "And mad at me for it." You huffed, only earning a scoff from the pacing man.

“I don’t see why you’re so intent on being pushed around by lazy workers.” He seethed, “Youngmin knows better than to throw his work on you, he’s a production manager!”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at this. You already knew that. You were just about to tell Youngmin that before Taehyung stepped in needlessly. This had definitely not been the first time people dumped work on you purely because you were a capable secretary and someone who looked like a pushover. You knew how to handle these situations, regardless if you ended up doing the work. Taehyung, however, seemed to not have any such faith in you considering the scene he made on the entire accounting floor, embarrassing the life out of you.

“That doesn’t give you the right to make a scene on my behalf.” You hissed back, "I can stand up for myself, if you just gave me the chance."

Taehyung scoffed and it made your eyebrow twitch at his patronizing demeanor, “Well, what else do I do if you’re being pushed around?” You huffed at the comment.

“I’m not being pushed around.” You tried to reason but Taehyung wouldn’t have it.

“Well, I’m the one making sure of that!” You flinched at the volume of his voice, but he didn’t catch it from his pacing while you stood, making him freeze.

“Then why are you the only one pushing me around?!” You huffed, tears in your eyes while Taehyung felt his heart crack. You had never yelled at him before, let alone cried because if him. The same realization seemed to dawn on you as you faltered for a moment, “I-I can handle things myself sometimes, you know.” You spoke incredulously, “I was a person of my own before you, do you not get that?!”

“Oh yeah? Who?” He snapped and you gasped lightly. Is this what he genuinely thought about you? Did your own boyfriend think so low of you and you couldn't see it, “I just remember you being a receptionist that cried on the phone and couldn’t be bothered to so much as make her own lunch, so what were you, if not mine?” He finished his words with a hard glare fixated at you which immediately softened at your glassy eyes with betrayal lying in your pupils

"How could you say that to me?!" You seethed, your eyes void of any affection or love for the man before you, making him freeze, “Do you know how hard I’ve worked to be who I am, and that person is not just your girlfriend, do you want me to prove it?!" Your words felt like a veiled threat, like you would leave him and he felt your words like a spear to the heart.

He could not let that happen, under any circumstances. You could not leave him. He could never allow it. You were his world, his everything, his reason for existing.

Going into panic mode, the man spoke in a hushed tone “Baby, I didn’t mean-

You held your hand up, silencing him as you shook your head, “I need some time to, you know, figure out who I am." You spoke sarcastically but voice quiet as you shuffled to the door.

"W-What do you mean?" He tried to keep the panic in his voice at bay as you slipped on your shoes.

You shrugged, "I don't know." An honest answer did make the situation less frightening for the both of you. What the fuck did you mean? What the fuck were you going to do by yourself?

Wrong answer. In order for you to leave this place, he had to know you loved him and would still continue to do so.

"You know I love you, my Venus, right?" His restraint was hanging by a thread as he watched you slip on your shoes.

"Right." You spoke, barely above a whisper.

Strike two. You didn't say it back. Why would you not say it back? How could you not say it back?! Taehyung watched his nightmare unfold at his own hand. You were slipping away from him, and for the first time, he had no idea what to do.

"I don't want you to go home this late, my love." He took slow steps toward you as your shaky hands tied your shoes, not accustomed to this kind of conflict, "I can just sleep on the couch, and you can..."

You whimpered as you couldn't tie your damn shoes. Your hands were shaking along with the rest of your form as you couldn't focus on the task at hand. You were overstimulated to say the least by everything. From the work day, to the scene, to the fight, to the brokeness of everything around you. Taehyung and you rarely ever fought and each time it was mentally exhausted, but it had never been this bad. You had never felt so sub-human and worthless. Were you just an accessory this whole time?

Had Taehyung loved you or just your company? You felt like a burden to him and just like a shitty excuse of a human all around. What the hell are you if not his? Maybe he was right.

A whine sounded from your closed lips as tears fell to the ground. Your shaky hands had paused on your laces completely, the knots tangled and resembling nothing like the bunny ears you needed. Goodness, you couldn't even tie your damn shoes correctly.

Taehyung's words evidently fell on def years as only distressed sounds and whines came from you. The word was blurrying from your tears and just being overwhelmed all around as your chest squeezed around itself and you opened your mouth to choke on a sob before two hands covered your ears, pushing your face into a familiar chest.

You fought against the embrace before falling on your bottom and defeatedly ceasing your struggles as you focused on the quickened heartbeat your partner had. Why was he so panicked? Surely you were not significant enough to make the ever cool Kim Taehyung's self-confidence shake, right? His heart was pounding furiously, just like yours, though. You thought back to his comment about tandem heart beats on your first night together. Now, the reasoning didn't sound so crazy as the synchronous heartbeats you both shared resounded between your forms. Your sobs evolved into just heavy breaths as your shoulders relaxed a bit, signaling the man holding you to pull back a bit. His hands slid down to cup your cheeks and stroked them softly, a sad smile adorning his beautiful face.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay, hm?" He kissed your forehead, eyes glossy as he pulled back, laying his forehead on yours, "I'm so fucking sorry I was being such a piece of shit." His voice shook, "Fuck, I never meant to hurt you like that, I didn't even mean what I said. I was just fucking projecting because I was nothing until you came into my life-"

"What a lie." You sniffled, "You have always been Kim Taehyung, campus prince, successful businessman, a fucking CEO- board member- whatever." You sighed out, "You've always been something-"

"None of that meant anything to me, barely does now, I never cared about anything until I met you." He breathed shakily, "I love you so much and you brought so much color to my world and I felt like all I had to offer you was protection and I have no damn idea how to be of use to you while you're so effortlessly the focal point of my existence."

Your breath hitched at this, "I-I… What the hell are you talking about?" You huffed out, "This whole night I have felt like such a burden, like I was just a pet for you to look after, like I would be nothing without you- like you said-" Pain flashed across his face. He did say that. He didn’t mean it, but he said it and it affected you.

"Shit, I did not mean that at all, please believe me." He begged, voice cracking, "I am nothing if not yours, I can't take care of myself without you, my life is nothing without you in it." You opened your mouth to protest but he continued after a heavy breath, "I remember you as the receptionist who didn't care who liked her and who didn't, but you were still so shamelessly human and it was, and still is, fucking beautiful to see, you are so dedicated and hard-working. I felt the only way I could even get involved with you was through anonymous lunches because I was too cowardly to just approach you. Why would you like me to begin with? You never once needed me, but I have spent years now, needing you so shamelessly and it makes me feel so small when you don't need my help and I lash out like a child about it and say things I don't fucking mean, at all." He took a deep breath, "I love you more than anything, more than life itself, and I never want to make you feel like anything less than a fucking goddess and I'm so sorry I fucked up so bad." You couldn't find words as he gave you a short kiss on your nose before pulling away, averting his eyes as his cheeks glistened and he focused his hand on your shoes, "If you still need time on your own, I understand, and...and I will respect that." He spoke softly, defeated, as he gently undid the tangle of knots on your left shoe before beginning to tie it correctly, "Is that too tight?" He murmured.

You shook your head, tears heavy on your cheeks, "Stop, Tae-Tae." You pleaded softly but he could hardly register your words until you laid a hand on his, making him look up at you.

You studied his face, tears fresh on his cheeks with stains beginning to dry from previous ones, "Baby?" His voice was so broken.

"You can just take off the shoes, I-I want to lay down." You looked at him as he met your eyes with hopefully ones, "With you. I want to lay down… with you." He nodded before gingerly taking your shoes off, as if to give you time to change your mind, "I love you Tae-Tae, I really fucking do, and it's so scary because I want to be perfect for you like you are for me and I feel like I keep falling short and so to hear you say that earlier it just…" You shrugged, not sure how to vocalize how you felt.

He sighed, "I really didn't mean it, but it doesn't change the fact that I said it." He began to take off the other shoe, "I do think you're perfect and I need to be better with my stupid fucking insecurity about it and stop being such a dick." He slipped the other shoe off before pulling you into a tight embrace, "I love you, so much, and I would give up everything in a heartbeat just to be with you." You held him back, giving him peace of mind after being so vulnerable.

Your body was exhausted as he carried you to his bedroom. You could barely help him as he dressed you for bed and tucked you in carefully before sliding in next to you. He cradled you delicately in his arms, not squeezing until you held him against you tighter, "I forgive you." You whispered against his chest, "I love you, I really do."

"Thank you so much, my Venus." He sighed in relief at your words, "I love you too, so fucking much." He leant down as you kissed his lips softly.

Taehyung lightly admonished himself for a moment. He nearly lost you. He could never let that happen again from his own foolishness. He couldn't live without you. He would never fuck up like that again, and he wouldn't. He vowed to never make a scene like that. He had to do that shit in private, obviously. He slipped up, but he would not be so obnoxious again.

Before he could continue to curse his stupidity, you snuggled against him, "G'night, my love." You murmured and he relaxed instantly, head cleared with only thoughts of how much he loved you.

"Sweet dreams, my Venus." He kissed the crown of your head and you hummed in delight at the gesture before he joined you in closing his eyes and drifting away into a peaceful sleep after one of the scariest nights of his life.

Thankfully, Taehyung never made the same mistake twice. Especially a mistake so critical. Who knows what he would’ve had to do if you were dead set on leaving him? Again, thankfully, neither you, nor Taehyung, would not find out. Not that Taehyung planned for you to ever find out just how far he was willing to go to keep you with him, to keep your requited love, to keep both of your hearts beating, together.

Masterlist

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#bts #bts fanfic #bts series #bts drabble #kim taehyung #bts v #soft yandere bts #yandere bts #bts angst #bts fluff #yandere bts drabble

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yoonsshadow · 3 years

Text

BLIZZARD BLUES ⎯ myg

⇰ summary ; There’s a storm coming. Literally. And some idiot is standing outside singing Christmas carols.

⇰ pairing ; yoongi x fem!reader

⇰ genres ; strangers to friends to lovers[?], snowstorm!au, romance, fast burn [?]

⇰ themes ; fluff, a bit of crack

⇰ warnings ; talk of a natural disaster [blizzard], lots of banter, brief talk of male genitalia [balls lol], a bunch of sweetness

⇰ word count ; 1.8k

⇰ note ; Happy holidays everybody!! I hope that you all have a safe and happy day, no matter what you are celebrating. [Also this is largely unedited.] xx

It doesn’t always snow on Christmas Eve. Sometimes, when the sky feels selfish, it will open its clouds and welcome through the sunlight, especially harsh against the previous snowfall that is melting on the ground. What was once a white wonderland, snowflakes clustered together in a fine powder, becomes a muddy expanse of grass, dampened by the flowing tears of the melted icicles.

The magic of Christmas, so often associated with the pure white sheen of snowfall, is gone within hours of a clear sky.

But not today.

Today, the sky is selfish in a very distinctly opposite way.

“Temperatures will be reaching a record-low tonight, and snowfall is expected to only get heavier. With the possibility of a blizzard on the way, citizens are urged to stay indoors tonight.”

“Aish.” Licking droplets of mulled wine from your lips, you sigh at the latest news update. Just yesterday, you had been complaining of the warmth in the air, expecting yet another disappointment out of Christmas Eve. The universe seems to have answered your pessimism with a natural disaster.

Thankfully, you are one of the many lucky ones with a roof over your head tonight. The townhouse is small by standard means, but it feels so big to you. Though it may be cosy, it holds everything that is important to you, every memory that you have collected over your life, every momentum that has ever brought you joy. It is an extension of yourself, of your innermost being, and now it even protects you from the howling wind that you can hear picking up outside.

As you sit in front of your roaring fireplace, wrapped in blankets and listening to the Michael Bublé christmas album play on your scratchy record player, you think that maybe this is serenity; this feeling of calm, of contentment, when chaos surrounds you.

A harsh knock at your front door breaks through the sound of the wind.

At first, you think that maybe it was a trick of the mind, or perhaps a branch hitting a window, but the rapid knock-knock-knock against the wood is far too deliberate to be a mistake. Plus, when it’s followed by several more⎯⎯less patient⎯⎯knocks, you know that someone is here. At your house. At ten o’clock at night, as a blizzard is brewing.

It takes a moment to detangle yourself from your comfortable cocoon of blankets, but you eventually shuffle to the door as quickly as your cold toes [the things just never seem to be warm] will allow. You’re expecting an emergency official telling you to evacuate, or a neighbour asking to borrow supplies.

You don’t expect a shivering, disgruntled man reluctantly singing ‘Oh Christmas Tree’.

“Your boughs so green in summertime...stay bravely green in wintertime...O tannenbaum, O Christmas Tree...How lovely are thy branches…”

“Are you seriously carolling right now?”

The man stops his ‘singing’ to glare at you, as if you’ve just interrupted the most important performance of his life. “Hey, either let me finish the song or let me move on. It’s fucking cold out here.”

“No, but like, why are you singing at all? Didn’t you see the news?” The chill of the wind is biting at you even through all of your layers, so you don’t know how he’s surviving right now.

The man sighs, the air fogging in front of his face. “Look, lady, I lost a bet, okay? I gotta sing these carols, and I’m not backing out just because it feels like my internal organs are shutting down. So, what’ll it be? I can take song requests, if you’re feeling spicy.”

It takes you barely a moment to make your decision. “Option C. Come here.”

And you all but drag him into your house.

“Y’know, this could be considered kidnapping,” the stranger says as he slides out of his soaked jacket and toes off his boots. Despite his words, he doesn’t seem at all reluctant to be within your warm abode. “You could at least take me to dinner before inviting me in.’

His voice sounds harsh, mean even, but for some reason you aren’t intimidated by him. Maybe it’s the way his nose shines pink from the cold.

“Well,” you say, already gathering some towels for him, “it seems as though you haven’t watched the news in the last three hours. There’s a blizzard on the way, buddy, and you looked about halfway to frozen already. I thought that I would save the neighbours the trauma of digging your body out of the snow.”

“How considerate.”

“What’s your name, by the way? Since I’m extending my home and hospitality to you. I’m Y/N.”

“Yoongi. Also, you barely extended anything. More like forced. But, I’m a kind man, so I’ll let you believe that you’re being selfless. It is Christmas, after all.”

“And a merry Christmas to you too, mister Yoongi.”

“Ugh. Don’t call me mister.”

“Whatever. You should go take a shower to warm up, I should have some of my dad’s clothes for you to wear. I also have a shit-tonne of blankets and a big pot of mulled wine, so whenever you’re done just come downstairs and sit by the fire. And don’t steal anything. Or piss on the carpets.”

“Oddly specific, but okay. Thanks, generous kidnapper.”

Yoongi takes nearly an hour before he re-emerges from upstairs, to the point where you wonder if he’s actually pissing in your carpets. He looks clean, though, and flushed with warmth. And absolutely adorable in the ugly, oversized Christmas sweater that you laid out for him.

“This is fucking horrendous.”

A snort escapes you at his blunt statement, watching as he sinks into an armchair opposite you. His hair is sticking out from where he’s hastily dried it. “Thank you. My dad is the reigning champion in his workplace ugly sweater competition. He takes immense pride in inducing nausea. Want some wine?”

“Absolutely.”

When you pass him a mug, the liquid steaming and aromatic, he seems to pause, hesitation in the grip of his fingers. You give him the time he needs to arrange his words.

“I guess, um...thank you. For bringing me inside.” Yoongi isn’t meeting your eyes, but the tips of his ears are turning pink. “I was probably too stubborn to realise how bad it was and...I don’t know, it could’ve ended up really bad. So. Thanks.”

“Hey.” His eyes flicker up, briefly, but enough to see the bashfulness hiding behind all that sarcasm. “It’s seriously fine, but you’ve got to make a habit out of taking care of yourself. I’ve known you for two hours and even I can tell that you don’t take yourself very seriously. Hell, I could’ve been a serial killer, and you still just walked into my house.”

“I could’ve been a serial killer as well, hypocrite.”

“Killer Caroller does have a certain ring to it,” you admit. He’s deflecting, but you accept the divergence easily. “So, mister serial killer-”

“Don’t call me mister.”

“-Why don’t you tell me about yourself? There’s a chance that you’ll be here for a little while, so we may as well become acquainted.”

Taking a lingering sip from his mug, Yoongi keeps his eyes trained on the fire before him. “My name is Yoongi, I’m a Pisces, and I enjoy long walks on the beach.”

“Romantic.”

“I was born in Daegu.”

“Makes sense.”

“I’m a music producer.”

“Impressive.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, though they hold more mirth than annoyance. “Oh, and what about you, miss charity? Tell me about yourself.”

Biting back a chuckle, you reposition yourself in the armchair to face him better. “Well, my name is Y/N, and I have never been to a beach.”

“That’s sad.”

“I take self-defense classes.”

“Convenient.”

“And I’m a social worker.”

“Very fitting.”

The quick banter between the two of you pulls a smile across your face before you can tamp it down, but it seems like Yoongi is fighting one of his own.

Somehow, you have both converged to your larger couch, huddled together in a wine-drunk, giggly mess.

“No, I seriously would’ve won! But then he totally caught me off guard. I was sabotaged.”

Yoongi’s recounting of the story of how he lost his bet is nothing short of hysterical. “This Jeongguk guy sounds like a menace,” you say, throwing your legs over his lap. “I mean, who swings their balls in a friend’s face just to distract them? That’s just low.”

“Right?!” His voice is so loud, but your little bubble is barely disturbed. “And they were all hairy, too. I swear that I found a pube in my hoodie.”

This sets you off, for some reason, and your chest erupts in light giggles. Yoongi has only told you a few stories about his six male friends, and it has filled you with a kind of joy that you don’t remember ever feeling.

“It’s just...I bet that women aren’t this immature with each other. Am I right?”

You hum. “Sort of, but also not really. A friend of mine once stole my diva cup just because she was mad at me for using her hair brush. I tried to explain that it was an accident, but man was she pissed.”

Yoongi pauses. “What’s a diva cup?”

Blinking at the man that you’re draped across, you bring a hand up to pat his soft cheek. “Oh, honey,” you whisper, offering a small smile.

Slowly but suddenly, his hand comes up to cover yours, keeping it on his face. Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t notice.

“You’re really nice,” he says. His pupils are blown from drinking, and maybe from your faces being so close. Your cheeks are flushed for the same reasons. “And totally not a serial killer.”

“I’m still undecided about you,” you joke, breathing out a laugh. “But I do know that you’re pretty nice, too. And not as bad of a guest as I thought you might be.”

“Is it-” Yoongi cuts himself off, takes a slow breath as he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he seems determined, if a little nervous. “Is it weird if I say that I enjoy spending time with you? And would, maybe, want to spend more time with you in the future?”

A lazy grin stretches your cheeks as you tuck yourself a little closer to him. It’s peculiar, maybe, that you’ve just met a man that you feel you’ve known your whole life. Curious, perhaps, that conversation with him feels more natural than with most people you know.

But weird?

No, you don’t think so.

“No. Not weird.” You lean forward a bit, shyly; wait for him to maybe do the same. “You do owe me the rest of a Christmas carol, after all.

He does lean forward, just a bit, and just as shy.

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jungcity · 4 years

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥.

genre: romance, fantasy, erotica

au: fallen angel, reincarnation

pairing: jung jaehyun x female reader

note: This is a work of fiction. The portrayal of the celebrities included in this story does not reflect their true nature in real life. I am just using them as a way to bring life into the story and to give entertainment to readers. Concerning the plot which is about Lucifer, I do not— in any means— sympathize with the devil and I do not intend to offend any religion. Furthermore, I discourage you to continue reading if you feel uncomfortable with this type of stories. I’d appreciate it if you'll leave some feedbacks! Thank you so much!

“he was the worse of his kind—

dared the Almighty with

pride in his mind.

banished from heaven,

the infamous fallen.

the one you cannot tame;

lucifer, that is his name.”

Unable to process the words printed out in the sheet of paper that was in your hands, you stare dat your termination contract with dread slowly creeping up into your face. Maybe you want to scream or to cry– heck, you have no idea what to feel as yet another hindrance towards a stable life lay heavy in your palms. An exhausted exhale of breath escaped your lips as the realization hit you– you were indeed terminated by the management of the fast-food chain you were working on for the reason that they could not meet their quota anymore and they had to terminate some employees. Unfortunately, you are one of those workers.

You have witnessed as the same dread fell upon your co-workers while they skimmed the paper in their hands. The fast-food chain stood as your only means to support yourself and your sister, so you never once took it for granted and did your work diligently despite the low wages and the awful workplace it had offered. Now, you have to find another job or else you will surely die of hunger.

You do have a talent in arts, and you graduated with a fine arts degree. But life after college was beyond what you had expected when you were still studying. You had anticipated to have a stable job suited for your skills, but life did not go as you planned. Your mother fell sick and died a year after you graduated, leaving you and your sister all alone. From that day onwards, you became the modern Atlas who carried the world in your shoulders. Yet you couldn’t complain. And despite all of the hardships, you only felt the need to take care of your little sister even more.

You continued walking the side streets like a ragged doll being pulled sluggishly by whatever force there was, thinking of other ways to get by tomorrow. Being jobless wouldn’t be so hard if you didn’t have another mouth to feed. Your sister will be a freshman in college next year, and that’s the sole reason why you needed to work your butt off harder than before. And life isn’t really helping right now. So you grabbed your phone and rang your best friend’s number. She picked up after fifteen seconds.

“Hey, gorge—”

“I am jobless,” you greeted Soojin. There was a surprised ‘oh’ in the other line and you could imagine your best friend looking at you pitifully. It made you bite your lower lip to fight the urge to cry in front of the judging eyes of the city.

“Tell me, is there something I can do to help?”

“I don’t know what to do anymore. I am deep in fucking debt and Yuqi’s going to college soon. I couldn’t possibly pay for our rent with my current situation— oh. I am a mess!” You heaved a deep sigh, your chest constricting from all the emotions you were keeping locked up inside you. Different set of eyes were on you as you tried not to crumple in the side streets. There were adults giving you sympathetic looks and children almost laughing at you.

“Hey! Hey, Y/N! Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale!” You did as you were told. Gulping a large amount of air, you didn’t even bother how polluted it was now that you were in the heart of the town. You have to get a new job before you lose your mind.

“Okay, is everything calmer now?” Soojin asked.

“Yes. Yes,” you replied, still taking deep breaths.

“I could recommend a job, Y/N.”

Your ears perked up. “I’m listening.”

“But it wouldn’t be an easy one,” she sighed on the other line before continuing, “The job is right here in Jung’s Fiscals. Luckily for you, the former secretary of Mr. Jung decided to resign today; rumor has it that it’s because of the cold and ruthless demeanor of our CEO. I know you’re fit for the job because you’re one hell of a hard working bitch. However, I want you to give it a thought. Mr. Jung is not someone to mess with. Heck, he does not even—”

You replied before she even had the chance to finish her sentence, “I’ll take it. I’m really not in the position to say no to a job right now, am I? I badly need one so whatever the character of this Mr. Jung, I’d cooperate with him.”

You heard your best friend sigh in defeat. She knows you too well to try to stop you. So she simply directed you to prepare your resumé and other documents for the interview tomorrow.

“God! Thank you!” You kissed the mic of your phone as thanks to your best friend-slash-life savior.

You were too desperate to even think about her advice and the possibility of the CEO mistreating you. As long as there is money in your card to support your sister and food on your table, you are always ready to serve anyone— even if that person was forged straight from the womb of the devil.

All energetic and ready to take the challenge of the world again, you blew your friend one last kiss before ending the call and trudging towards the bus stop.

It was a night of simple ready-to-eat-ramen pack. Your sister had already known about your termination and currently feels bad that there is nothing she could do to help.

“It’s okay. Worry about school and nothing else, Yuqi,” you told her. The younger girl pouted her lips, reluctance clear on her face. “And I could not possibly let you work. We know enough not to overwork you.”

She has a weak stamina. Asthmatic since she was a kid, you never allowed her to do any part-time jobs for the fear that it would take a toll on her health. You couldn’t afford to lose the only relative you have, so every attempt of hers to help you boils down to nothing.

“I mean, who am I in this household? I don’t want to be a leech, sucking all your money and energy like that.” She scrunched up her nose.

“Yuqi, it’s my responsibility to take care of you. This is nothing, really.”

Even though you had almost lost your mind earlier thinking about the fact that you were indeed jobless, you tried to show your strong façade and smiled encouragingly to your sister. The least that you want right now is to worry her.

“Not to mention that you have to work in that wretched company– where the CEO is Jung Jaehyun. I’ve heard a lot of rumors about him, you know. They say he fucks—”

“Language, please,” you warned with a glare.

Yuqi rolled her eyes before continuing, “They say, he brings famous models into his penthouse every single night. And some say he does it even in his own office.” She talked while pointing her chopstick at you, munching her food deliciously like it was the best ramen she has ever tasted.

“Well, let’s be glad I am not a model then.” You shrugged. The both of you laughed.

She rambled about Jung Jaehyun the whole dinner with you, half-listening to her. Yuqi almost sounded like she was a fan and you seriously couldn’t grasp the need to be cautious towards Jung Jaehyun. You were hell-bent to impress him tomorrow that you refused to indulge yourself around the bad rumors circulating his name and well-being. All that matters to you is you are going to get that job, and you will do your best to stay in that office long enough to support your sister’s education.

This is the day where your fate is divided into two. You have a chance to make everything better for you and your sister, or you can prove that your life has been cursed and there is no more hope to rescue it from the depths of poverty.

The fate is in your hands and right now, your palms are sweating and your hands are trembling. Shaking your head and clearing your mind— with a determined heart— you trudge inside the thirty-story building of Jung’s Fiscals.

You were greeted by your best friend, Soojin. She was wearing a slightly loose pencil skirt paired with simple white polo sleeves. Her hair was styled into a neat bun, just like any other girl at the front desk. You have presumed that that would also be your hairstyle once you got the job.

“You got this,” Soojin mumbled as she led you towards the elevator. Unfortunately for you, she couldn’t accompany you all the way to Mr. Jung’s office for the reason that the building is buzzing with work and she couldn’t leave her position at the front desk for too long. You wave her a nervous goodbye before pushing the button on to the 28th floor.

There was really something about CEOs preferring to locate their offices on the top floor of their building. It was not like you mind, but you truly couldn’t believe that it really happens in real life. You once thought that they only appear in televisions.

Surrounded by the shiny metal covers of the elevator’s interior, you decided to check on your clothes and overall appearance. You have picked your best set of formal clothes for this day because you obviously wanted to impress the CEO and look presentable on your possible first day of work.

After a few minutes of standing alone inside the shiny elevator, it finally dinged and opened. You step outside, eyes roaming around the surroundings before taking a step forward. A nice and wide room greeted you as you walked through. The secretary’s table was made of polished wood, with the company’s logo engraved in gold. There were sets of black marble columns at the back and two comfortable armchairs in front of the secretary’s table to serve as a waiting area.

A woman, with the same bun as Soojin, stood up from her seat to greet you. Unlike your best friend, she was wearing a brown blazer that slightly hugged her waist and a fitted black dress underneath it. In your own opinion, she was too young to resign in this prestigious company. Which made your mind fall back into thinking that maybe the rumors were true– that the CEO, indeed, mistreats his employees.

“Good morning, Miss. Mr. Jung is ready to meet you.” She greeted with a slight bow. Her whole aura screamed professionalism. Something that you were not acquainted with— being a former waitress at a fast-food chain. All you had to do was take orders and smile and obey inquiries but you had never, ever, worked in a place where those aforementioned skills were almost nothing compared to the huge building that you were— hopefully— going to work in. Although, you suppose you have a bit of advantage when it comes to noting something and smiling. The only difference is that, rather than French fries and diet coke, you would have to take notes about meetings and business trips.

You breathed slowly, calming your nerves. The woman must have heard your heart thumping against your chest since she hesitated to open the door.

“Just be yourself, Miss. Do not worry too much. You’ll get through this.” She offered you a kind smile. You couldn’t help but think that she was accompanying you towards your own doom. You returned the smile even as you felt your lips wobble. A few inhales and exhales later, you told her you were ready. She slowly opened the door to Mr. Jung’s office and Jesus Christ— you thought you would collapse by the expansive space that greeted you in.

Typical CEO, he was obviously sitting on his swivel chair, the back of it facing you and the secretary. You have guessed he was looking at the spectacular view outside. The interior of his office wasn’t quite different from the secretary’s. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked the skyscrapers and buzzing life outside. Light brown wood with grey walls surrounded you, partnered with black leather furniture. Hints of gold in the CEO’s table were also visible and there were minimalistic abstract paintings with the same hue as everything in the room.

Jung Jaehyun. CEO. — was printed on the glass plaque on top of his table.

“Leave us.” He said without turning his chair. The voice was deep and raspy— clean and masculine— the kind of voice from someone who knows he was in authority and that he owns the whole place.

Shivering, you almost begged the woman not to leave you with the predator sitting not two meters away from you. The secretary gave you an encouraging nod before turning on her heels and walking away. At the sound of the door clicking close, the swivel chair whirled.

You expected to see a grey-haired, middle-aged man to greet you. As a large company like this one, the CEO wouldn’t be as young as the man in front of you now. You tried to focus your breathing because fuck— the man is beyond gorgeous. It has been a while since you had encountered a creature as beautiful as him.

Hair, raven black against the white swivel chair that stood out in the whole room like a throne only for his to take, his lips were too red as a freshly plucked cherry against his pale skin— so white you could almost see the blues and the violets of his veins. And those eyes— the perfect dark brown; screams calmness after the storm and the rage of the hurricane fused together.

“Are you quite done staring?”

His voice shot you back to reality. You prayed to the saints that you hadn’t been drooling as you took in his whole features. If that was the case?You were absolutely doomed. Your chances of ever being hired beginning to thin.

“I… my apologies, Sir.” You bowed your head, suddenly confused as to why your body reacted that way. This is not a medieval fantasy where you were inclined to bow before the king, but the man in front of you exudes the energy of the likeliness of a monarch and it felt right to bow in front of him.

He didn’t answer. You could only assume that he was looking through your documents by the sound of the papers shuffling.

“Fine arts degree? To a waitress?” His words ended with a ‘hm?’. He almost sounded disgusted by your resume. It made the veins on your temple ticked but you really couldn’t blame him. The job that you landed on after graduating wasn’t really what you expected after those too many sleepless nights struggling to finish all your plates.

“And with this basic resume…” Your head automatically recovered from the bow and your eyes stared at him. He didn’t call your resume basic, right? But he did. It was crystal clear in your ears, ringing in your mind. And all your hopes of getting the job were gone in an instant. “… why should I hire you?” he finished.

His eyes were emotionless but his voice was taunting. Despite the insult of calling your resume basic, you smiled at him. It was your time to prove yourself and there was no stopping you now.

You cleared your throat, “Because I am a hard-working woman ready to give you her utmost effort—”

“You’re hired.” He simply declared with a wave of his hand.

You blinked, doubtful of the words that you have heard. “Sir?”

“You’re hired. Go and talk to Maggie about everything that you need to know,” he coldly stated, not looking at you but into his computer.

You could really jump from happiness, right in front of him. And you didn’t even care that he interrupted the speech which you practiced all night with the hopes to impress him. What truly matters is you got a new job not twenty-four-hours after you were terminated from that wretched fast-food chain. However, you wouldn’t provoke him to fire you on your first day so you remained calm.

“Thank you, Sir!”

Clasping your hands together was the only vessel you have to let go of a fraction of the happiness that you have felt. You turned on your heels with a smile that could reach your ears. But before you could open the door, he spoke again.

“Try harder when it comes to your clothes, next time. They don’t match mine.”

It was the best pair of formal clothes in your wardrobe. You inhaled sharply and faced him with the same smile, already not so fond of your newly-acclaimed boss.

“Alright, Sir. I understand.”

Then you dashed outside, instantly regretting being his secretary even before your job to serve him had begun.

The secretary, Maggie, introduced you your new workplace. She must’ve seen how happy you were when you departed Mr. Jung’s office that she automatically guided you towards the secretary’s table with a smile.

Her corner was neat, the folders clearly stacked on one end and notebooks at the side. The computer was placed on the right corner alongside the telephone. It was easy to move around since everything is in its place.

Then she guided you towards the pantry. It was decorated with the same brown, grey, black hues with a hint of gold accents. Adjacent to it is the meeting area, composed of the same black leather furniture and a glass table partnered with a minimalistic chandelier. Everything around you looks so expensive that you felt out of place all of a sudden.

“Mr. Jung wants his coffee a little bit warm in the morning. There’s a coffee maker ready, you just have to watch a few coffee making videos and you’re gonna be alright.” You shared a chuckle. It would seem as if Jung Jaehyun is meticulous when it comes to his coffee. So you mentally reminded yourself to watch some coffee making videos tonight.

“Sometimes he likes it cold. Plus, he usually drinks iced-americano. Easy to make,” she said with a wink.

Is working for Jung Jaehyun also requires you to be a barista? Cool.

“For his breakfast, you have to ask him every morning if he’d like to eat. More of the times he does not. And I think one of his personal pet peeves is when someone wastes food. So be careful about that.”

You listed everything she has told you, emphasizing the words ‘ask him’ to remind yourself not to impulsively make him food for there was no guarantee that he was going to eat.

“On the days that he wants to have breakfast, he usually likes to eat scrambled eggs with slices of bacon and don’t forget about the apples. He loves apples,” she exaggerated, “You just have to cut them in equal pieces or else he won’t eat them.”

Bringing a ruler with you won’t do any harm, right? So you listed it together with the reminders that Maggie informed you of. She continued walking you through the works that she does: from the emails that you need to go through to make sure no insignificant message would irate Mr. Jung, to her techniques in taking notes and arranging schedules for the boss.

“And there’s a proper uniform made for you,” she said while eyeing you from head to toe. But not in an insulting manner like what Jung Jaehyun did. Her scrutinizing was more on the calculating side. It would appear as though she was mentally analyzing your body size.

“On Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays– you will have to wear this same outfit as I am wearing.” By that, she means the dress and the brown blazer.

“Tuesdays, and Thursdays, you have to wear slacks the same color as this blazer. It’s paired with white silky polo sleeves. Nothing uncomfortable, don’t worry,” she chuckles. But your tongue wanted to ask whether you were going to buy your own set of clothes. The uniform looked so neat and expensive that by the lookds of it, surely you do not have the luxury to buy one. As if reading through your knitted brows, Maggie told you that all uniforms are provided by the company. Thank God.

“On Saturdays, you can wear anything you like. Just be mindful of it. Mr. Jung does not like it when his secretary—”

“Wears cheap clothing? And does not match with his?” You finished the sentence for her. It was the sentiment of the CEO before you exited his office.

Maggie’s lips was formed in a thin line, telling you to go along with it. “It’s not exactly like that. But you have to at least try to catch up to his fashion sense.”

Well— Jesus Christ— the man exhales the air of Balmain and Versace and you do not have the richest to afford a Chanel outfit to pair with him even if you sell your soul to the devil.

“Is that… really necessary?” You asked her, clearly agitated. If that was what the CEO wants, you would gladly go back and work in that cursed fast-food chain and wear the same uniform six days a week than thinking about robbing a famous clothing brands’ store every fucking day to match his highness’ clothes.

“Yes. But don’t worry. The clothes I wear every Saturdays were all thrifted. You just have to really dig every clothes to find a decent one.” She winked at you. You smiled at her nervously. You wouldn’t trust yourself thrifting clothes, simply because you do not have the patience for it. But your little sister, Yuqi, does. So you would have to trust her taste and maybe she wouldn’t feel so helpless anymore once you give her the task.

“That’s pretty much all you have to know,” Maggie declares while clasping her hands together. You suddenly felt the need to ask her the reason why she was resigning. But it seemed too personal to inquire. You shrugged and let the question die in your mind.

“How long have you been working here?” You asked instead. She smiled at you, looking around the place like she was reliving some kind of memories.

“I interned in this place when I was still in college. Mr. Jung applauded my performance so I decided to work here when I graduated. It’s been three years, to be exact.”

Jung Jaehyun must’ve been owning this empire at such a young age, based on Maggie’s story. He was the CEO when she was still in college until now. You wonder how old he was when he took this company.

“Mr. Jung’s must’ve been really young when he took over this company,” you voiced. Maggie nodded and told you she was impressed by how young yet clever Jung Jaehyun is to be managing a top company such as Jung’s Fiscals.

After a few minutes of small talk and reminders, Maggie bid you goodbye. Her things were all gathered and she was ready to go even before she walked you through the rules and reminders of the company. However, before she left, you asked the one question that you have been itching to know the answer to the very moment you walked out of Mr. Jung’s office.

“Is he… is he really terrible? Like in the rumors?” You know it was not pleasant to ask such things regarding your boss. But you need at least some warnings before you dive in headfirst to the trouble.

Maggie chuckled and you didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. “He doesn’t mistreat his employees. It’s more like, he doesn’t really care enough. I don’t know. He’s excellent in his field but he’s aloof towards everyone. Never really socializing and talking outside of business.” Maggie smiled and you hate to be the one to noticed it, but it seems like she adores Mr. Jung. With the possibility of romantic feelings bubbling beneath her weak facade.

Before you knew it, your tongue is rolling and asking the question you whispered only to yourself. “Do you like him?”

At your question, all the professionalism deteriorated from Maggie’s presence. She looked like a giddy thirteen-year-old lovesick teenager when she answered, “Who wouldn’t like him? The man is like, rich-rich. And that aura? That body? I’d let him spit on me.”

You were slightly disgusted by the latter but you were not going to argue that Jung Jaehyun is indeed the kind of man who could easily wreck you. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. He has that power in him and you know it the second you laid your eyes on that beautifully cruel face. Those eyes— oh boy— eyes that could make you feel alive but drown and capture you within the depths of them— yet his looks; looks that could almost kill. Men like him know their place, and that is above everyone else— including you.

Your first week went smoothly. There were new emails sent to Jung Jaehyun’s inbox that you need to check. There was also a telephone call, once, from a girl named Chaelin who wishes to visit Jaehyun once his schedule wasn’t too jampacked to bother. You silently asked your boss whether he would allow it, checking his schedules first before asking. He told you to insert Chaelin’s visit on one of his them. That made you wonder if she was one of those rumored models caught leaving Jaehyun’s penthouse and office. But you shook your mind off the thought. Clearly, you have no business wondering about those kinds of things. He is your boss and you are his secretary. You would never meddle in his personal life.

Maggie was right, Jung Jaehyun was indeed aloof. He eats alone and employees never really stay in his office longer than ten minutes. Maximum. And they would always come out with their hand on their chest, heaving a deep sigh. He didn’t welcome small talk and he was all about business. Slowly, you have grounded and reminded yourself exactly where your place was inside the office; and that is inside his territory, but out of his life.

It was easy to master the perfect taste of his coffee. And yes, you would admit, you almost collapsed on your knees when he first tasted your office-made americano. You even stayed for two minutes after he took a sip, hoping for some good comments but he just raised a brow at you. That was your cue to exit. Just like what Maggie reminded you, Jung Jaehyun does not eat breakfast often as a normal person would. But today, he finally ordered one.

Chaelin, who called you, finally arrived fifteen-minutes ago. If Jaehyun looked like a king, Chaelin was his queen — or so you assume. She carried the dominant female aura in her; ash grey hair, red lips, and red bottoms, with a 90’s silk dress hugging her body paired with a Chanel purse. Everything about her screams perfection. You were glad that she smiled softly towards you after you guided her towards Mr. Jung’s office; making you more comfortable in her presence instantly. Maybe that was why you were preparing breakfast for the duo.

The whole office is lonesome. The surrounding eerily silent with literally only the three of you on the whole floor. All you could hear was the crisp sound of the slices of bacon as you fry them, and the thud of the knife against the chopping board as you prepare his apples— fresh and pristine on the plate.

Everything was ready in twenty-five minutes. You placed the food on a clean tray before walking towards Mr. Jung’s office. Balancing all of it with your hip, you pushed the door slightly. The main office stood empty before you, but you heard their murmurs silently echoing from the meeting area that was adjacent to Mr. Jung’s office.

Reluctant to barge in without asking for their permission, your steps slowed. But Mr. Jung ordered for a breakfast today, he must have been hungry. You did not want to make him wait, or his visitor— so you inhaled and exhaled, continuing your walk towards the meeting area.

“So basically, this visit is to tell me to clean up your own mess?”

You heard Mr. Jung asked, contempt clear in his voice. It definitely felt like the conversation is not for anyone to hear. You hesitated in your position.

“This is not my mess. It’s theirs. How many times—” Chaelin was obviously frustrated by the tone of her voice. You heard a playful chuckle from your boss, interrupting the lady’s discourse.

“And how many times do I have to tell you that I. Do. Not. Give. A. Flying. Fuck.”

“Come on! You’re the only creature here on Earth who could do what needs to be done.” Chaelin sounded tired, worn out from the male’s large ego.

You were about to turn on your heel and walk away, the conversation clearly was between both of them alone, and you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You were just torn between serving their food or walking away. You started doing the latter until Mr. Jung’s voice boomed in the whole office that you literally felt the plates in the tray shook.

“Who’s there?!”

You froze on your spot— and your breathing too. It wasn’t just a question. It was a scream of command to reveal yourself. You didn’t even know how he had known someone staying outside the meeting area. Before you could run away from the scene, you heard footsteps coming your way. You turned around to face your boss, you regretted doing so. He was looking at you with his emotionless eyes. And you felt a trickle ran down your spine as he continued walking towards you— grabbing your arms like he wanted to crush your bones. You were too shocked to even feel the pain but it was there, slowly slicing through your skin, certain it was going to leave a bruise.

“What did you hear?” He asked, rage evident in his voice. Chaelin was looking at the both of you, not enjoying the scene but also anticipating for your answer.

You squeezed your eyes shut because you couldn’t stand looking at his eyes as they seemed to burn you to ashes. “N-nothing, Sir.” You trembled.

He pinned you down with that same, deadly stare. His body only a tray away from yours, you could smell his spicy perfume mixing with the smell of portions of bacon and eggs. And his face, too close, so close he almost seemed familiar. He stared at you, not saying anything with his mouth but shooting you death threats with his eyes. You couldn’t stand it. Your knees began to wobble but before you could lose your balance, Chaelin decided to intrude.

“Jaehyun, let go of the girl. She’s telling the truth.”

His hand automatically slid away from your arms. He drew a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his raven-black hair. You let out a sigh of relief. But it was short-lived as he spoke with his toneless voice again.

“Get the fuck out of this room. Now.” His back facing you while he gripped the edge of the table.

You gathered all your strength, placing the tray on the small table two steps away from you. You were dumbfounded and beyond scared, you didn’t even bother to arrange their plates, you dashed towards the door like a contender in a marathon.

The moment the oak door closed behind you only did you allow yourself to breathe. It came out shaky. But surprisingly, there were no tears rolling down your cheeks. You simply clutched your chest; the pain in your arm numb because of your fear.

It was only your first week. Yet all you wanted to do was resign and get the hell out of the building.

With a glass of liquor in one hand, Jaehyun stared at the vast expanse of the city lights below from his penthouse; thinking that every twinkling light is his to conquer. He was always been fond of high grounds; it reminded him of his place before he was cast out of heaven and became the most infamous fallen in the history of mankind.

The fall. History had withered and repeated itself for millions of years. Yet he still could not forget how it felt like to fall into nothingness, with the gates of heaven closing in before his very eyes.

Did it hurt? The poets tried to ask the unknown; they bled ink trying to fathom the feelings of Lucifer when the Almighty and every angel declared him a traitor. Yet no poem had the exact metaphors to decipher his doom.

Did it hurt? Jaehyun sometimes asks himself the same question. Did it hurt when his wings started to smolder with fire as he plunged into the abyss of nothingness and into the Earth? Did it hurt when every bone in his body twisted and shattered as he landed into hard ground of a place too grave to be called heaven? Did it hurt when he was all bruises and blood and ill-fated to burn into the pits of hell? Just like the poets, Jaehyun has not found the metaphor to describe the feeling; but unlike them, he knew too well how it felt like.

He had lost count of the millennia that had past. He had lost count of his own age if he ever had one. The world made its inevitable change. And it continues to change, leaving him behind. Because he was still him; all wings and sins. Forever damned, forever unforgiven.

He was there when religion had been born, and he watched as the pious made different names to describe him; Prince of hell, the devil, Satan, the Fallen Angel. He watched them cursed him and condemned those who believed in him. And back then he realized that people were quick to describe and hate something they do not understand.

Kings and queens died. Kingdoms rose and fell, and he watched them all with obloquy in his face. Because he couldn’t believe that despite the spitefulness of humans against each other, the Almighty still loved them above all else.

They say he was destined to burn in hell, but his true punishment lay more grievous than being scorched alive. He pulled a locket out of his pocket with his too pale hands. Opening the little old golden thing, it didn’t fail to make his breath run wild every time he looked at the picture inside. The girl is smiling, the one thing she does not practice usually.

How many years has it been? He forgot the faces of his friends and of his enemies. Yet the one thing he could not forget is her ocean eyes and how her lips tasted salvation in his.

One hundred years, my love, he whispered.

One hundred years of her gone, and one hundred years of him keeping her closest to his aching heart despite the death that separates them both. And he would do everything to live; to keep her as his secret, to keep her alive in him.

That was when his thoughts weaved its way to you. A girl who has the ability to ruin everything he holds dear in his damned eternity. You might’ve heard things earlier; he wasn’t sure. The way your eyes looked at him frantically and how your body almost convulsed in his touch, he couldn’t explain why but he never wants to see that same reaction painted on your face again.

Drinking the last contents of his glass and with a touch of warning in his voice, he whispered your name against the miles that are separating you both. With the hopes that it would caress and remind you of the storm coming.

A mere mortal like you is nothing compared to his ancient greatness. Yet the thought of a human knowing his secret nagged in his system even if he didn’t want to. He couldn’t let you out his sight. Not tomorrow, not ever.

masterlist.

#jung jaehyun au #nct au #nct 127 au #nct smut #jung yuno imagines #nct scenarios #jaehyun nct au #jaehyun au #nct imagines

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squidbatts · 4 years

Text

we could stay-

Or: Your name is Kankri Vantas and your father may be out for the night, but a certain wannabe greaser is in

((i challenged myself to rewrite a fic that i wrote in 2013 and this is the result (though this version is mostly makeouts and dry humping while the original was very “chaste kisses and gentle cuddling” but like, that’s what the kids call growth). anyway: humanstuck, not Quite explicit but certainly more than suggestive, so ymmv))

{ao3}

“I’m only going to be gone a couple of hours, alright?” Your father says as he pulls on his coat by the door. You stand straight-backed and nod. Your brother slouches at the foot of the stairs beside you and rolls his eyes.

“Sure,” Karkat says, sarcasm coating his every syllable, “Just text us when you decide you’re staying the night at the Leijons’.”

“I’m not- who even- why would you-?” Your father splutters, flustered. “Listen, that’s none of your business. Anyway,” He says, regaining control of himself, “No parties, no guests, Kankri’s in charge.”

“I take the responsibility incredibly seriously, father,” You say dutifully. Karkat rolls his eyes again, this time with a dramatic full body motion. You ignore him.

“Great. Please don’t destroy the house while I’m gone.” Your father says, as he always does when he goes out on what he refuses to call Date Nights. Karkat mutters something expletive-filled but you merely smile, waving goodbye as your father walks out the door. You continue to stand there, watching through the window as his car starts and pulls off. You watch until it disappears around the corner, then you look down at Karkat.

“All clear,” You say.

Your name is Kankri Vantas and you are in charge for the night.

“Cool, I’m going to my room, don’t fucking bother me,” He says, but you can see that he’s already on his phone. You have no doubt that he’ll be back downstairs welcoming in a gaggle of his little friends in less than half an hour, which means that you have some time to kill. You don't send any texts, but keep your phone close by just in case. You do your homework, eat some of the lasagna that your father prepared for you and your brother, and search through the family movie collection. There are a lot of romcoms.

It is, if you’re being honest, mostly romcoms.

But you knew that before you started looking, because you’ve gone through your family’s movies with almost alarming frequency of late.

Regardless, you pick out a movie, put it into the DVD player, and wait. Eventually, you hear a knock on the door, but before you can open it or call him down, Karkat stomps downstairs, scowling.

“Can you douchenozzles not read a simple fucking text? I said not to knock, jesus fucking christ,” Karkat says.

“Language,” You chide, mostly reflexively, as you walk up. There are five children outside your door, including the youngest Maryam, who is holding a pizza box and avoiding your eye. You wonder how she got her mother to let her out of the house on a school night, but decide it’s very much not your business. Still, you’ll probably text Porrim about it later, just to check.

“Shut the fuck up,” Karkat snaps back, likely also only on reflex. This is a dance you both do often.

“Hi, Karkat’s brother,” One of the kids, a boy in blue, says. You can’t stop your mouth from twitching into a slight frown.

The kids know your name, you know they know your name, and yet they insist on calling you ‘Karkat’s older brother.’

“My name is Kankri,” You say, despite all this.

The boy grins and Karkat snaps out a quick, “Yeah, no, we aren’t fucking doing this tonight,” and ushers the all of them in and up the stairs, shooting a quick, “Text me if dad’s actually coming home,” to you over his shoulder.

You nod, agreeing to your own side of the unspoken Date Night agreement you two have. There’s something of a comradery in breaking this one rule; others you won’t allow, and five friends are pushing the “no party” rule in ways that you’ll detail to Karkat in a thoughtfully crafted note tomorrow, but this one... Well, it has benefits for everyone.

Brother and friends firmly dealt with, you pull out your phone and send a simple text of your own: I am going to be watching a movie tonight while my brother and his friends yell and do whatever else children their age do on weeknights upstairs, as my father has gone out with Ms. Leijon and is likely to return late, if at all.

There’s a brief moment before you get a response, like the person on the other end was sitting in their bedroom, part of their attention dedicated to pretending to know how to play a guitar but mostly just waiting for you to text. got it chief, the reply reads, and a smile flickers across your face. Ten minutes later, you hear the sound of a hot rod roaring past your house and around the corner, gaudy and loud with a royal purple finish. You stand, making your way into the kitchen and opening the back door in time to watch Cronus Ampora trip over your neighbor’s hose and his own untied Chuck Taylors. He recovers easily enough, and saunters the rest of the way between the yards and to your door, hips swinging as his expression melts into a smirk like an ice cube on a stovetop.

“Hey there, doll,” He says as soon as he gets close enough to speak to you quietly. Your face scrunches, but he laughs and cuts you off before you can begin yet another treatise on how calling you doll is rude and embarrassing. “I know, I know, K. Won’t do it again.”

He will, almost certainly. You let him in anyway. You leave him in the living room to call up the stairs, “Karkat, do you want any lasagna?”

It’s a test, both to see if Karkat can hear you from the bottom of the stairs and to see if he’s hungry enough that he’ll want something from down here in the next hour or so.

“Fuck off!” Karkat yells back, over a chorus of laughter. You don’t roll your eyes, because you’re not your brother, but you do add another paragraph to the note -- no, email, it would probably work better as an email rather than a series of post-its on his door by now -- that you’re going to leave him tomorrow. You return to the living room and press play on the movie. You barely even remember what you’ve put in at this point, but you give yourself a moment to stare at the screen as the blonde love interest starts her day and rushes around her office, and to take a deep but subtle breath, before you turn back to Cronus.

Cronus is sprawled upon the couch, one leg spread across all three cushions while the other hangs onto the ground and the rest of his body sags against the arm, barely moving as he boredly scrolls on his phone. He’s shed his leather jacket and wears purposely distressed t-shirt that you know he cut the sleeves off himself. You clear your throat.

“Am I going to be allowed to sit down?” You ask. Cronus smirks and you immediately continue, “If you even begin to offer your lap as an acceptable place to sit-”

“Relax, K, I would never do somethin‘ so -- what’s the word? -- demeaning.”

You raise an eyebrow, begrudgingly impressed. “Yes, demeaning is the right word there.”

Cronus flashes you a shark’s smile as he rearranges himself to take a reasonable amount of space on the couch. “See, I know all my lingo, chief. Talk at a guy enough and anyone can pick up your social justice stuff.”

Your jaw tightens at his words but you make yourself relax. You don’t hang out with Cronus Ampora for his aptitude at activism. You, in fact, don’t hang out with Cronus Ampora at all.

Except for movie nights.

Behind you the movie plays on, and though you’re not watching it, you know what’s happening: a proposed article shot down, a bet and courtside basketball tickets, the consoling of a recently dumped best friend. You’ve seen this one many times, because Karkat and your father have unfortunate affinities for them. You, at least, have the decency to keep misogynistic, predictable, degrading things as a rarely indulged guilty pleasure.

You take a seat beside Cronus. Far enough apart that your bodies do not touch but close enough that you can feel the heat from the arm Cronus has thrown over the back of the couch. You sit, back straight, hands in your lap. You can feel Cronus looking at you. The fingers on your left hand twitch against your pant leg.

“Kankri,” Cronus starts to whine, but you cut him off with a shush.

“I am watching the movie.”

“Is that how we’re gonna play it tonight?” Cronus asks. When you hum in the affirmative, he huffs childishly. You’re surprised that he doesn’t cross his arms and stamp his feet too. “Fine then.”

It’s quiet for a moment, Matthew McConaughey the only voice in the room, before Cronus clears his throat and says, “So, uh, what’s this movie about anyway?”

Your eye twitches. You wish it didn’t but you know it did and you can almost feel the waves of smug glee radiating from Cronus as he shifts ever so slightly closer to you. You hate explaining movies while the movie is playing, but you suppose that since you did make him miss a bit of the beginning, it’s only fair that you help him out.

“She writes how-to articles for a women’s magazine but she wants to do hard investigative reporting, and he’s a marketing executive who’s trying to get a deal to represent a diamond seller,” You explain.

“Alright,” Cronus says, his thigh meeting yours as he leans in, voice pitched low so you can still pay attention to the movie over his questions. “How’d they meet again?”

“The women at his workplace -- they’re both named Judy -- asked him to prove that he understood romance so he could acquire the diamond deal from them, and then tricked him into choosing her as the woman he would ’woo‘.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes!” You exclaim, shoulders rising in annoyance at the lack of attention Cronus is paying to the movie. When they fall again, Cronus’ arm slips over them. “She is trying to sabotage a relationship for her column, so he’d never be able to sincerely start a relationship with her, even if he wasn’t approaching her under false pretenses.”

“Uh-huh, got it. One more question,” Cronus says, voice shockingly close to your ear. You turn and he is- close. Very close. Your breath catches in shock. “How many times have you seen this one?”

“I haven’t-”

“Come on, Vantas, don’t lie to me,” He says, whispers, inching ever closer to you. Your mouth feels suddenly dry and you lick your lips, watching Cronus’ eyes track the movement. “Hey, Kankri?”

“Yes?” You prompt, voice barely a murmur. Cronus’ nose touches yours.

“I really don’t care about this movie.”

What happens next is inevitable. You wish you could say that Cronus kisses you and you’re entirely taken unaware. You wish you could say you don't know who moved first. Unfortunately, you know that it was you who saw the look in Cronus’ eyes, who felt the heat of his body and smelled his ridiculous expensive cologne, and leaned in, unable to keep up an uninterested face any longer. You go to kiss him and Cronus happily meets you, easy and hot and just what you wanted, wonderful enough as he bites at your lip and runs a hand through your hair that you barely even mind that you can feel the smug twist of his mouth against your own. You shift to get closer, to get a better angle to map the shape of his mouth, eventually giving up all decorum and tossing a leg over him to slide into his lap.

“Not a word,” You say.

Cronus raises his hands in surrender though his eyes still flash with mirth. “I’m not the one with the talkin' problem, chief.”

You kiss him again to shut him up. Admittedly, the way he licks into your mouth, how his hands slide over your hips and his fingers edge under your sweater, they’re all enticing, but they’re all particularly nice pluses when the main concern is occupying his mouth with something else. Your pocket buzzes and you think, somewhat vaguely, Oh, my phone. I need to get that.

“One second,” You say, and Cronus immediately starts to whine. You only manage to pull your phone out of your pocket before Cronus decides to switch his energy from whining to paying attention to your neck, taking care to suck and bite only at places that will be under your usual turtleneck’s coverage.

Suddenly, you’re no longer worried about your phone.

It’s fine, You think, dropping your phone to the carpet and shoving a fist into your mouth as Cronus presses an open-mouthed kiss to your jawline, Whatever’s happening can wait. You weave a hand into Cronus’ gel-stiff hair, mussing it as you tug to get Cronus’ mouth back up to yours. Cronus groans, low and needy and cut off as you greedily swallow the sound. From your perch on his lap, you can feel that Cronus’ whole body is very interested in the proceedings; you don’t grind down because that would be undignified, but even a slight shift of your weight is enough to make Cronus’ hips jerk.

“Jesus fucking christ, Kankri,” Cronus gasps into your mouth, “You’re gonna kill me.”

Something like pride fills your chest as something like interest warms your stomach. You shift again. “Am I?”

“Fuck, alright, lemme just,” Cronus starts brokenly before gripping your thighs and easily laying you onto the couch before leaning over you, arms bracketing your head. “This okay?”

You throw a leg around his waist and an arm around his neck, pulling him closer. “I find it perfectly acceptable.”

“I’ll show you ‘acceptable’,” Cronus says with a roll of his eyes before he’s kissing you again, his whole body a warm, shifting weight against your own. When he grinds into the couch, into you, you arch into it, heel digging into the small of his back.

You aren’t sure how long you’re there, kissing and rocking against one another, but eventually you hear a faint rumble over the now-ignored sounds of your movie. It sounds familiar, and something inside you, a part of your mind that’s somehow been able to retain its ability to think about anything but the sensations you’re experiencing now, says Pay attention! You reluctantly shift some of your focus to listening, allowing Cronus to go back to mouthing at your neck; it takes you a moment but you’re able to remember that it’s the sound of a car pulling up to the house. You jolt with shock and horror as you place it even more specifically as the sound of your father’s car.

“Fuck.”

Cronus leans back on his haunches, eyes wide. “Kankri Vantas, did you just curse?”

“Now is not the time,” You reply, pulling him back down and out of view from anyone who might look into your living room windows. “On the floor, now.”

“Are you being bossy now? Is that the move?” Cronus asks, laughing.

You don’t have time to explain or deal with his humor as you see the shadow of your father pass by, so you just shove him off the couch and cut off his grumbling by saying “My father is home.”

Cronus presses himself flatter to the ground. “Oh, fuck.”

“Exactly. Stay down and stay quiet, I can handle this,” You say as the lock turns. Cronus nods and mimes zipping his lips. Your father enters the house.

“Karkat? Kankri? You guys up?” Your father asks, kicking his shoes off. You sit up, hoping you look more sleep-rumpled than hand-mussed.

“Oh, father,” You say, affecting a yawn. “You’re home early.”

“Yeah, Di- er, Ms. Leijon, she felt sick, so we decided to call it a night,” He says. Cronus, from his spot lying completely flat and supposedly still, taps on your knee. Your father is not looking at you, busy removing his shoes and coat, so you entertain Cronus with a glance. He’s pointing at a nearby chair over which he threw his jacket, but you know it’s out of eyeline from the foyer so you shake you head subtly, eyes still on your father, and emphatically gesture something you hope he interprets correctly as stay still. Your father says, “I texted you.”

You think of you phone, on the carpet under Cronus, and curse past Kankri. “Ah. You must’ve sent it after I’d already fallen asleep.”

“It’s bad for your back to sleep down here,” Your father says, muffled as he opens the coat closet. “What were you doing anyway?”

Nothing really, despite my best efforts, thinks a sullen and unnecessary part of your mind. The rest of you clears your throat. “I had just been watching a movie.”

“Which one?”

It takes you a beat longer than it should to remember. It feels like there’s been a millennia of kissing Cronus between you picking out the movie and now. “How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days.”

“Oh, that one! I really-” Your father turns to you finally and pauses for a moment. When he continues, his voice is more disbelieving. “How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days, huh?”

“Yes,” You answer, off-put by his tone. The movie is still playing on the television behind you, so you’re not sure why he’s acting like it’s out of the realm of possibility. Somewhat defensively, you continue, “It’s one of my favorites.”

Cronus doesn’t laugh, because he values his life and is staying quiet, but you can see how he tenses like he’s holding in laughter in your peripheral vision. It takes effort not to scowl at him.

“Mhm. Well, you should probably be getting to bed soon.”

“Will do.” You say, and then you stare at your father with a fixed smile as he watches you with a raised eyebrow. It is the most stressful minute of your life. Eventually, he shakes his head and smiles.

“Alright. Goodnight, Kankri,” Your father says, and you reply in kind. You sink into the couch in relief, sharing a still-panicked we did it look with Cronus.

“Oh, and Kankri?”

You freeze and pop back up at the sound of your father’s voice. He’s not in your eyeline, speaking as he walks up the stairs. “Yes?”

“Next time, make sure that your friend isn’t taller than the couch is long.”

Your eyes dart to the floor and catch on Cronus’ stupid candy cane socks are far past the edge of the couch, where they can definitely be seen from the foyer. “I-”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, I’m too tired for this right now. Night, kiddo.”

You facepalm, with both hands for good measure. Below you, Cronus whispers, “Sorry.”

“You should just… Go, please. I’ll,” you run a hand down your face, embarrassment quickly overpowering whatever brief bits of relief you felt. “I suppose I’ll text you, after I speak to my father.”

Cronus nods and you help him to his feet. You walk him to the door, at which point he asks, “So… no more movie nights?”

You tighten your jaw so hard that your teeth ache. “Are you seriously thinking about that right now?”

“Yes- No- I mean, okay, yes, I’m wondering about like, this, about hookin’ up and shit, but also, I’m gonna… miss hanging out with you,” Cronus says, looking out into the yard rather than at you, which is good because your face feels hotter than it ever has before and you’re sure you must look ridiculous. “We don’t talk at school, obviously, so this was the only time I got to spend with you in person, y’know.”

“I-” You open and close your mouth in shock. “Cronus-”

“But I’m also gonna miss touching that sweet ass of yours,” Cronus continues, absolutely destroying the mood.

“Go.”

“You’re cute when you’re pissed,” Cronus says. You scowl, but still lean into it when he kisses you goodbye. Everyone has their vices. “See you, doll.”

Your splutters drown out his laughter as he books it for his car. To his retreating back, you hiss, maybe too loud for this time of night but absolutely necessary, “Don’t call me doll!”

#cronkri #kankri vantas #cronus ampora #homestuck #humanstuck #one shot

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bngtanah · 4 years

Text

I’m (not) With The Band. | o4

summary: Adrienne is an indie producer who is hired to help co-produce BTS’ next album alongside their resident producer; Suga. Despite the initial opposition on both ends, the pair spend time together, share a few stories, dreams and aspirations and begin to hit it off really well. Wrapped up in the whirlwind of late nights and heated disagreements and reconciliations, Min Yoongi and Adrienne Rolle find themselves growing closer and closer. One night they decide to cross the barrier between personal and professional and do their best make a relationship work against all odds.

pairing: idol!Yoongi x Named OC

word count: 2.9k genre: drama, romance, smut(eventually)

chapters: prologue| o1| o2| o3| o4| o5| o6| o7| o8| o9| 10| 11|

warning: light angst, smut, fluff, workplace relationship, slow burn, sexual themes, ambw, enemies to friends to lovers, developing relationship

a/n: still a fool. still re-uploading.

Adrienne had a certain way of approaching the music-making process, she liked to be completely immersed in whatever she was working on. That meant blasting the sounds she haphazardly blended together as loud as possible until she could think of a way to make them work together appealingly. The sounds of unfinished demos blasting, the scent of lavender incense burning and filling up the interior of the Bangtan work room while Adrienne danced around to get her blood flowing had become a common thing to hear at any hour of the day or night when she was working alone over the past few days. It was a crazy process to look at from the outside but it hadn't failed her yet so Adrienne was planning on sticking with it.

Of course, just because she planned on doing that didn't mean that she would get to.

The incense and loud music worked fine when she was alone but once Yoongi was in the room that all came to a stop. He preferred to work in silence, or as close to silence as he could get. Which meant he had his headphones in to listen and critique every subtle sound effect and background noise that he wasn't sure about adding. Doing that calmed Yoongi but made Adrienne anxious, she was constantly bursting with energy and that seemed to amplify during the nighttime when she was in a pleasant mood and Yoongi just felt like curling up and going to sleep. Adrienne needed the conversation, the back and forth of ideas that could really be the best part about being forced to work with someone else. Their partnership seemed to be in a slightly more stable place than it was last week, even though they still barely knew each other and had definitely not stopped arguing about nearly everything; they were at least willing to communicate instead of shutting down when complications arose.

It was after twelve on a Tuesday night, or was it after one? Truthfully Adrienne stopped keeping track hours ago, the only thing she knew for sure was that it was dark outside and the halls outside the workroom door sounded empty which meant that it was late enough for people to have already headed home. Adrienne planned on heading out herself as soon as she made some progress on the melody she had been working on for most of the day. It started off with the intentions of being something upbeat and whimsical but over time it morphed into something lighter, more gentle and Andy was having trouble finding a balance between the two styles.

"Are you okay?"

Yoongi's voice yelling over the music from the door made Adrienne stop the strange interpretive dance she was acting out in the middle of the room. With her arms stretched upwards and her neck extended towards the ceiling she kind of resembled a stork preparing to take flight. If Yoongi wasn't so unbelievably tired he might have found the energy to laugh at her.

"Ah, Yoongi-ssi,"

"-oppa,"

"You said I should be respectful, -ssi is very respectful."

Yoongi grumbled and moved his tired body towards the couch, motioning for Adrienne to turn down her song like he always did. Andy sighed and moved to the computer desk then took a seat.

"What are you doing here? I thought you guys had schedules all day today."

"I wanted to get some work done before I go to bed, and it's two o'clock in the morning; what are you doing here?" Yoongi answered with his head resting against the back of the couch.

"Oh shi-, is it really?" Adrienne gasped and turned to look at the bottom right of the computer screen, it indeed read 2:13 am and Andy groaned and pressed her forehead against the keyboard. She wanted to be in bed hours ago but time completely got away from her.

"I've been working on this song for.... well I'll just be honest, the entire day and I just cannot get it to sound right. That's why I'm still here." She pouted.

Yoongi huffed and looked over at Adrienne, who looked back at him with a slight smile, and made a spectacle of getting up and trudging over to the console where Adrienne sat. He leaned forward and pressed his palms on the edge of the desk then looked at Adrienne like he was waiting for her to do something.

"What?"

"Let me hear the song,"

"No, it isn't arranged!"

Yoongi frowned and gave her a slightly harsh look, making Andy suck her teeth, hit play and immediately cover her ears so she wouldn't have to listen to the song again. She was getting sick of hearing the reminder of her incompetence.

Yoongi, on the other hand listened carefully to everything that played over the speakers. He could see what she meant about it not being arranged properly since it was still very rough around the edges but there was something there that could be worked out with more time and attention. The corners of his lips turned upwards slightly when the gentle voice that had been harmonizing to the melody switched to sound more aggressive and raspy.

"Is that you singing?"

"What? Oh yes, that's me. I knew which of you I want to sing which part so I tried to imitate your voices with random lyrics,"

"Was that supposed to be me?"

"Yes, I didn't think you would notice," Adrienne chuckled.

"I don't sound like that," He retorted with a playful frown.

"Yoongi, that's exactly what you sound like. My imitation of you is actually the best one."

Yoongi rolled his eyes but didn't disagree and returned to the couch once the song ended.

"You're a good singer,"

"T-thank you," She answered, slightly taken back by his sudden compliment since it was the first one he'd paid her since they met.

"About your song, it has potential but you're making the backing instruments way too loud, it's distracting,"

Adrienne frowned gently and brought her knees up to her chest, his suggestion had crossed her mind earlier but she was afraid that if she lowered the instruments, it would lose the dynamic feeling.

"I don't even want to think about it anymore," She rested her chin on her knees "Thank you though."

Yoongi nodded silently as he sank further and further into the cushions of the couch, his plan was to work once he was here but he was already falling asleep just sitting there.

"Yoongi-ssi..."

"Hm?"

"Didn't you say you wanted to want to work on something?"

"Yeah, I will" he answered but made no attempt to move.

Adrienne sniggered and shook her head as she got up from the office chair and occupied the empty seat next to him on the couch.

"You should go home if you're just going to sleep,"

Yoongi snorted and sat up straight, his spine becoming rigid when he heard her so close to him.

"I'm okay, I just need a second to wake up,"

"Well, if you want some help, you could answer my question of the day!"

'Question of the day' was something that Adrienne suggested last week in an effort for them both to understand each other better. They each got to ask one question per day that had to be answered honestly by both parties. Yoongi was against it at first but Adrienne soon realized that he would agree to do most things if she pestered him enough. So far it had only been basic questions like 'where were you born?', 'how old are you?', 'who's your favourite artist?' and Adrienne learned that Yoongi was exactly one year older than she was and he had just as much trouble pinning down just one favourite artist as she did. An inaudible rasping noise of displeasure rumbled in Yoongi's throat even though he hadn't moved an inch since sitting up. He didn't have the stamina for a conversation right now.

"Oh, come on you child, it's a simple question!"

"Fine, fine. What is it?"

"What made you want to become an idol?"

"I didn't,"

"Yoongi-ssi..."

"What? I answered your question,"

"That can't be the entire answer," Adrienne pushed.

Yoongi cursed under his breath and ran a hand down the length of his face.

"That is the entire answer. I never dreamed about being an idol, I wanted to make music, I knew there was only so much I could do on my own so I came to Seoul to have the opportunity to make music as well as I could."

Adrienne nibbled on her top lip and studied Yoongi while he answered her question, he looked like he was still sleeping with his beanie pulled down low over his forehead and the back of his head still resting against the back of the couch. He had a certain way of saying a lot while not really saying much at all when they spoke, always giving Adrienne just enough information to satiate her curiosity but never really allowing her to get closer to him. It was frustrating in a way but Andy didn't want to rock the boat again when they'd just started getting along and she wasn't exactly an open book herself. Then again, he never asked her anything that would require her to be guarded, Adrienne was sure that her age and birthplace and other general facts were on file with the company and that was all he ever asked about.

"Do you like it?" She paused "Being an idol, I mean."

"One question," Yoongi answered and held up his index finger which Adrienne pushed out of her line of vision.

"Fine, what's your question?"

Yoongi shuffled around in his seat and switched his seating position so he was facing Adrienne instead of leaning into the cushions and staring up at the ceiling. It took a second for him to think of a question to ask since he didn't have one ready. Well, that wasn't true, he had lots of questions but none he felt comfortable asking out loud.

"Why did you come to Korea?"

"You know why I'm here,"

"I know they offered you a job, you didn't have to accept it,"

Adrienne smirked and glanced to the side in thought.

"Do you want the proper answer or something thoughtful?"

"Proper,"

"I needed money," she laughed softly and Yoongi joined her with a closed mouth chuckle of his own.

"Honestly, I didn't really want to come at first. I knew nothing about this country or the music and it was all so different from what I was used to... if my sister didn't threaten to fight me I wouldn't be here right now. I was so scared to come here."

"Scared of what?"

"Of...." Adrienne paused and raised her gaze to Yoongi's eyes, she wasn't exactly sure how to word what she wanted to say next. "Give me your arm."

Yoongi's forehead wrinkled, but he complied and stretched his arm forward, Adrienne held his hand in her palm and pushed up his sleeve so that his forearm was exposed then she scooted closer and placed her bare forearm directly against his warm skin. Andy's bronzed skin wasn't the deepest shade of brown and she knew that but it definitely stood out compared to Yoongi's fair tone.

"Of being too different."

He was confused at first but after the second glance at their arms next to each other and Adrienne's face Yoongi nodded with a quiet realization and lowered his head and arm.

"Not everyone is... it's not like..." He stumbled over his words in a way was so unlike him and Adrienne shook her head quickly and held both of his hands in her own to reassure him.

"I get it, Yoongi," She smiled and let go, "I'm not that scared anymore but there's always something terrifying about the unknown..."

Yoongi nodded, tilting his head to the side and resting it against his hand. Adrienne wasn't looking directly at him when she spoke and that gave him ample opportunity to drink in her sharp features without being detected. He had taken up the habit of gazing at her when she wasn't looking in an effort to try and figure her out. She was such a strange person to him with her slightly eccentric behavior, bubbly nature, and interesting personality. Girls like this usually annoyed him but with Adrienne Yoongi only wanted to know more about her and that was a feeling he knew he had to keep under control. He was a professional there was no reason for him to allow fleeting emotions to cloud his thinking, no matter if he could physically feel his heart twinge beneath his chest when Adrienne's eyes met his own.

"Anyway, thanks for listening. You can work now sorry for being a bother."

"Don't worry about it," Yoongi nodded and slowly picked himself up off the couch.

"I should go home now," Andy yawned but didn't get up as she watched him move over to the computer desk.

Yoongi nodded and turned to bid Adrienne a good night when the sound of the door swinging open drew his attention there.

"Hyung! We're going to eat are you com-" Jimin paused when he noticed Adrienne still seated.

"Oh, Andy~ I didn't know you were still here, do you want to come eat with us?"

"Hey, Jimin" Andy greeted with a wide grin "Um... I don't know if I can..." Just at the mention of food, her stomach grumbled and reminded Adrienne that all she'd eaten that day was a packet of saltine crackers and going home alone on an empty stomach wasn't something she wanted to risk.

"I'll come," she laughed "I mean if that's okay with everyone," Adrienne said everyone but really she was looking for Yoongi's approval since as far as she knew he was the only member of the team she hadn't really won over yet. Jimin encouraged her to come but Adrienne still looked over to Yoongi for his answer.

Yoongi wasn't particularly interested in going since he didn't really want to eat and he still hadn't started his work but when Adrienne looked at him with her silently pleading eyes Yoongi didn't have it in him to tell Jimin to go away so he could work in peace. So instead, he got up, adjusted his beanie and headed out the door without a word while being followed by his oddly energetic youngers.

The seven of them plus Adrienne piled into a booth at a tiny pub not too far from the studio since that was the only place open so late at night. Despite being tired like Adrienne was sure they all were the atmosphere was loud and active as they all ordered and only got more lively when someone, who sounded oddly like Taehyung, suggested that Adrienne treat them to a drink. She objected at first but that only made the requests become cuter and more annoying to ignore.

"Okay! Just this one time" Adrienne finally relented and motioned for the server to come back to their table.

"You don't have to do that," she could hear Yoongi almost whisper from his seat next to her but Andy dismissed his concern with a gentle smile. "I don't mind."

The night continued until Namjoon being the responsible leader that he was, informed everyone that they really needed to get some rest before their day tomorrow. Everyone except Yoongi and Jin groaned and complained but made preparations to leave nonetheless, they were undoubtedly feeling the heavyweight of sleep rest comfortably on their shoulders once everyone was outside on the sidewalk since there was a noticeable drop in noise level and general conversation.

"Well, I'm going now!" Adrienne said behind a body-draining yawn as she waved towards the group and began walking backward.

"Are you walking by yourself? You shouldn't catch a taxi so late alone, I can walk with you." Namjoon said quickly and took a step forward but Adrienne shook her head.

"I live really close to the studio, I can make it by myself. I'll be safe,"

"Okay. Well, you should text me when you get home, so we don't worry." Namjoon said, quickly adding the bit about everyone worrying to save face.

"I will, good night!" She assured him and waved again to the rest of the boys before turning on her heels and heading towards her apartment.

Once she was out of sight Namjoon followed closely by Yoongi who'd gone silent, and the rest of the crowd began their slow trek back to the BigHit building.

"Hey, hyung don't you think you're being a little too obvious with Andy? Since she is a co-worker and everything," Jimin asked in a gentle tone once he'd sidled up next to Namjoon and began walking in stride with him.

"What are you talking about?" Namjoon responded as if he did not understand what Jimin was insinuating "Should I be rude to her just because she's a co-worker?"

Jimin pursed his lips but let the topic die, he knew that his band member knew that wasn't he meant but it wasn't exactly the right place or time to advise Namjoon so he kept quiet. Yoongi who was also still silently walking behind them took notice of the minor exchange and didn't have a reasonable explanation for the way his heart rate spiked or the scowl that crossed his features while he continued moving with his head down.

Jimin smiled and gently patted Namjoon on the shoulder.

"Of course not, hyung."

#bts #bts fic #bts scenarios #min yoongi #suga fic #suga scenarios #yoongi x oc #inwtb #bngtanah

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lesbianmonsterlover · 5 years

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Female Orc x Plus Sized Female Reader (plot-driven NSFW)

Humans and Houses is the magic universe analog of Dungeons and Dragons. This little group of orcs wintering at an outpost on the border of their lands has been playing since they were in the academy together, what happens when they manage to summon a human by mistake in a world where humans don’t exist except for in stories?

This is a long, long story with some NSFW to it. This is 100% self indulgent romance and comedy borderline crackfic.

“I would like to roll to see if I can guess the password on the device, this comp-tar is no match for my tech prowess!” Balzol looked over at Rokal, who considered and then nodded. The clattering of bone dice followed. “19” he grinned, tusks flashing, and Rokal chuckled.

“You find a scrap of paper posted on the side of the desk, it has some letters and numbers written on it, trying that you’re pleased to see it works giving you access to the information contained within.” Balzol looks pleased with himself, and the rest of the group at the table cheers him on.

Rokal had been running this group of Humans and Houses for a few years now with other orcs in her barracks at the stronghold, although this would be the third crop of characters, this new workplace setting was proving very interesting, much more intrigue and political backstabbing. They were running the university setting, at the request of Shokk, and having quite a good time doing it.

She waits for the noise to die down before moving on, consulting her notes and the new DM guide for this expansion. “You open up a document labeled ‘Second Semester Lesson Plan’ hoping to find some information that would allow you to outdo Jamison at the meeting coming up at the end of the week with the department. You find some class information but, moving further down the document, it seems as though it devolves into a recipe for a human love potion and a desire for a particular librarian at the university to notice him-” Rokal snorts in amusement, and writes out the recipe for the potion before giving it to the team.

Shokk scoffed, the healer of their group who had been trained in magic. “That wouldn’t even work! Stupid humans, love potions aren’t real, just mind control. Besides that this ritual wouldn’t even do anything, look.” The ingredients listed were common, and within a few minutes the laughing group is crowded around a small earthen bowl over a candle flame, dropping in the oils and herbs, Shokk gestured to Rokal. “You, oh fearless leader, should do the honors.” Rokal snorted in amusement and shoved the smaller Orc before standing over the pot and drawing in chalk the symbols pictured in the book.

Grabbing up the dried flower she grinds it between thick fingers into the pot, slowly chanting “by rose, by myrrh, by candlelight, my love will come to me tonight.” Repeating the chant again she sprinkles in the myrrh, and at the third repetition she carefully takes the beeswax candle and ignites the contents of the pot. The smoke is fragrant and heady, but nothing happens, making the Orcs break out in laughter anew until a bright flash of light is accompanied by a snap that sounds like a cracking whip, and when the light fades there’s a small body on the floor.

You, meanwhile, had graduated with your librarianship degree and were beyond thankful that you had been offered employment within the university post-graduation. It wasn’t a high paying job, but the cost of living in the area of the university was fairly low, and the benefits were nothing to stick your nose up at. The only thing was the crippling loneliness. Being gay in a small town is never quite fun, even one as progressive as the little town your university was located in. The majority of other women passing through who might be interested were undergraduates, far too young for you, and the gay scene in this place was so incestuous you couldn’t date after breaking up with your latest girlfriend.

Sighing you tapped languidly at the computer keyboard in front of you, debating whether to get up from the circulation desk for another coffee. With a shake of your head you pull out your knitting instead, finding the repetition of stitches comforting and distracting from the pull of the coffee machine at least until it’s actually your break time. You vaguely register the smell of roses and smoke before it feels like you’re sucked through a straw, twisted inside out, and then dumped unceremoniously onto a roughly hewn wooden floor, your bag skittering to a stop at the boot-clad feet of a stranger.

With a whimper you push yourself up some, blinking against the dizziness. As you come to your senses you look around, this looks like no place on campus you’ve ever been before. Large wooden bunks line one long wall of the room, with a large fire on the opposite wall in a stone hearth. You just begin to register voices, but they’re speaking a language you’ve never heard before, something rough sounding almost like german maybe? But it definitely wasn’t. Looking up the legs of the person in front of you you’re surprised to find green, maybe stockings? A leather skirt, interesting choice, with a skull belt? Very hot, and those abs, leading up to small muscular breasts and broad shoulders. The green skin was interesting, leading up to the face of what looks like an orc, if your nights of Warcraft as a teen taught you anything, and it’s at that point you promptly pass out.

Rokal gapes at the form on the floor as they collapse back down again. What in the actual hells just happened?! Shokk thankfully had more of his wits about him, crouching beside the figure and rolling them onto their back, their soft face slack in sleep. Rokal actually thinks you’re quite pretty, you look so soft and gentle compared to the warriors she has spent her years around. Bending down she picks up the bag that came to a stop at her boots, smiling a little tenderly at the knitting project she finds attached to the ball of yarn inside it. You reminded her briefly of her mother, she couldn’t deny feeling that kind of comfortable warmth inside her at the sight of you. It was somehow different though, spicier. She shook her head, gathering up the knitting and carefully placing it behind her GM screen on the table.

“She’s got round ears…” Shokk is mumbling to himself as he checks the girl over, eyes wide and hands shaking. “Rok, she has round ears, she isn’t an elf, or a dwarf, or a goblin, there’s no fae magic here, no disguises or tricks. Rok...Rok I don’t think she’s supposed to be here.” His voice is a frantic and thin whisper by the end, and Rokal has dropped to her knees beside the healer to try and calm him down. Her hands are on his shoulders as she looks into his eyes, making him breathe with her.

“Shokk, Shokk you need to relax, we’ll figure this out…” Rokal looks down at you. To her eyes, your clothing is strange, and with a cautious glance over at the table she is coming to a sinking conclusion that you look strikingly like the characters printed on her screen. A human...you look like a human. Now she’s the one trying to keep it together, at least visibly more poised than Shokk was. “What the fuck…” She picks you up off of the floor, cradling you against her chest and trying not to focus on the way your soft body molded against hers. She brought you to her own bunk, laying you on the sheets and tugging up the wool blanket that had been crumpled at the foot of the mattress. She strokes your cheek with one knuckle, staring down at you with intense searching eyes.

You stir at the stroking of your cheek, pressing up on your palms you blink your eyes open blearily. Rokal drops her hand, stepping back as you tilt your head cutely, looking confused as a newborn kitten. “What the fuck. What the fuck, did someone drug my fucking coffee?” You lean forward heavily and stare at your hands before you stare up at the group of what look like FUCKING ORCS standing around a table laughing at your outburst. When a throat clears beside you your head whips around to come face to abs with a tall, muscular orc woman. Or you assumed she was a woman, considering the binder over her chest that the others were lacking. “Oh holy shit, I’m definitely hallucinating, there’s no way anything but my imagination could make such a gorgeous woman. Christ, I need to get laid.” The group of orcs in the background laughs louder, yelling something out in that rough language you heard earlier before Rokal makes what you assume is a rude gesture in their culture and their laughing crescendos but they stop the comments.

Rokal is dark with embarrassment, thankful that it seems like you cannot understand their language although she’s sure you’re smart enough to figure out in context they were quite crass. She’s also thankful you seem to speak common so at least she can communicate, although your accent is odd and some of your words are...confusing. “Hello there, little one…” you blush darkly and give her a halfhearted scowl, offering up your name which makes her smile soften. You look like an angry kitten, it’s too cute. She repeats her greeting with your name this time, and you smile. “My name is Rokal, you are in Ecrad at our outpost at the Western border with the nation of Othar. Tell me, where are you from?”

You look confused, you supposed your brain was an odd thing inventing all of this out of thin air. You never thought of yourself as much of a prose writer, but perhaps being surrounded by books for the last several years had rubbed off on you even a little bit through osmosis. You try to explain to Rokal where you’re from, but she only gives you a blank and confused look when you name your home city. You grab your bag and are thankful you keep your small wallet with ID and a bit of cash in alongside your knitting, knowing that you never leave without it. With shaky hands you pass over the leather fold, and it looks tiny in her grip as she carefully examines it. “You are...human?” She sounds wondering, a tremor in her voice that is either fearful or hopeful, maybe even reverential? When you nod and give her a look as if to say ‘what else would I be?’ she shakes her head, looking at you wide eyed as she drops your ID. “Not possible. You aren’t real, you aren’t supposed to exist.” She reaches out with an outstretched finger and pokes the soft flesh of your upper arm, as if to make sure you are in fact corporeal. She looks over at the group of orcs helplessly before looking back at you with the same huge puppy-dog eyes in a startling shade of pure onyx.

You want to reach out to comfort her, but before you can make a move she turns and slumps onto the edge of the bed, sitting heavily next to you. The weight of her dips the bed and makes you slide until you’re pressed up against her back. You can’t move though, it seems as though the mattress has swallowed you whole and you’re just stuck between the soft feather bed and her broad strong back. It would be comforting if it wasn’t so embarrassing.

Rokal rests her elbows on her thighs, rubbing her palms over her face before raking her hands through her mohawk. A human, a real human, warm blood and flesh pressed up against her back right now, and existing in this universe. What the fuck were they supposed to do about this?! Rokal couldn’t very well get her home, and even Shokk with his knowledge of magic would be no use, as he focused on healing and strengthening their unit. It would be weeks or months until the passes would be clear from winter, they were stuck on the winter rotation on the border this year, snowed in just the group of them making sure that the border was secure until another crew would come to to relieve them in spring. Some weeks the weather was clear enough to allow them to trudge to the small village a little over a mile away to stock up on some supplies and even leisure items, like their Humans and Houses game, but there was no one there with a deep enough knowledge of the magical arts to help get this human back to wherever they are from.

The border was secure, peace had been struck between Ecrad and Othar over a century ago and the only things they caught were the occasional animal wandering through the wood without any care for the borders of lands, and the occasional patrol from Othar passing by to share gossip and news. So the border was secure but that still doesn’t explain how the fuck there is a cute soft human lying in her bunk, emphasis on human. The boys gathered around sitting across from her on Shokk’s similarly unmade bed or pulling up chairs from the table. Gurukk, another of the orcs in her company, chuckled, his grey-green skin looking strangely pallid. “Well this is a fucking mess.” His voice is a low grumble, but at least he speaks in common, following in Rokal’s lead. “We’re stuck here until spring, and the first snow was only last week…” He voices the internal struggle Rokal was having, and Shokk chimes in.

“I have no idea how she even got here, let alone how to get her back. It will be months until the mountain passes are clear enough to get her to Mama Rena, and she’s the only one who could do anything to help I think.” Shokk spoke often of his mentor, a stern half orc half elf he called Mama Rena who lived on the outskirts of the settlement he grew up in. She was brilliant with magic, naturally talented in a way that is impossible to teach or train. She was not one to take students, but Shokk couldn’t seem to get rid of her, even before he decided he wanted to study healing magic the strange old woman would simply force her presence on him. Especially infuriating was the fact that his parents encouraged her behavior, knowing the honor for what it was.

You struggled, flailing slightly and feeling for all intents and purposes like a child while surrounded by this group of giants. Finally though you managed to right yourself, scooting up to the side of the mattress and sitting next to Rokal, looking out at this group of orcs. Everyone introduced themselves, the one who couldn’t speak common introduced by other members of the company. You still found your eyes constantly drawn to Rokal though, it’s as if someone took your ideal of a woman and made it big and green with tusks (all of which was a bonus, if anyone wanted to ask you). Tall and broad, sitting next to each other the top of your head only just reached the bottom of her chest binder, with thick muscular arms and a firm stomach, small muscular breasts, and thighs that could crush your head if she let you between them. You wanted to worship every inch of her mossy skin, watch this beautiful creature come undone for you, and then maybe selfishly get pinned down and absolutely ravished by her in return. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice you’ve begun openly staring at the orc woman, only drawn out of it when Gurukk says something to Rokal in Orcish with a teasing tone that makes her cheeks darken and she bares her tusks and growls in his direction. It would be intimidating to be on the receiving end of that, you’re sure, but Gurukk just laughs and turns his face to you with a soft smile, or at least as soft a smile as an orc mouth can manage with tusks as large as his.

“You are welcome here, tiny human, we will keep you safe until we can return you to your world. Tell us, what is human society really like? Is there really no magic? Are there no other races in your world?” The five orcs are looking at you with wide, sparkling eyes as though they’re sitting for story time like the kids from your internship at the children’s library. It makes you laugh, and the orcs look surprised at how gentle the sound is compared to their own. It isn’t as bell-like as an elf or as bellyful as an orc, it’s sweet though and they’re all a little enamored by it, especially Rokal as she stares down at you with some wonderment.

“Well, no, there’s no magic where I come from. At least, I would have said that until I wound up here somehow. I’m still not entirely convinced this isn’t a drug-induced hallucination.” You giggle, and a few of the orcs snort out a laugh. “Magic is kind of a concept where I’m from, but we consider it a myth. It’s a story you tell children, but no one in my world is capable of using or acting on it, and even if they are they’re laughed at and derided as charlatans.” Shokk looks aghast, like he can’t even fathom a world where that was a possibility let alone a reality.

“But...but anyone can learn magic if they practice hard enough!” Shokk speaks up, trying to impress this upon you. “Seriously! Some are more adept than others, but literally anyone can learn basic conjuration at the very least.” He looks confused, and you suppose for a moment that it’s like telling someone that where you come from nobody has ever heard of or is capable of performing some other basic fundamental like math or reading. Yes some people have more difficulty than others, and never progress past a basic understanding or cannot do it because of neurotyping or lack of exposure to education, but to believe that it is fake? You’d never be able to wrap your mind around that. You’re forced to shake your head no, looking at him a little sheepishly.

“No, no magic I’m afraid. At least not that we can access in any meaningful way. I wonder if it’s something that humans are incapable of, or if it’s just that the world where I come from has no magic or weak magic…” You trail off, contemplating for a moment before Balzol snaps you out of it, asking again if there are no other races where you come from that might access magic. “No, our definition of race in my world revolves around skin tone. We are all humans, but we organize based on how dark or pale our skin is, and for a long time we have fought one another based on whose skin tone is superior. Many like to say we’re past that now, and that equality has been achieved, but that is just not true. One subset of the populace is imprisoned at such a significantly higher rate because of systemic oppression and lack of opportunity, but many people in charge simply say it’s because their race makes them more violent or prone to crime. It’s depressing.” You feel a little embarrassed about the rant you’ve gone on, but the orcs looks offended on your behalf as well.

“Orcs are used to such treatment as well, it is why we have isolated ourselves for so long, because other races like to believe that we are more violent and savage simply because we are good warriors. We are treated as if we are stupid just because we are big and strong, and outside of our strongholds and settlements there are many paths barred to orcs because of other prejudiced beings. We promise little human not to underestimate you, or treat you as lesser simply because you are so cute and tiny.” Balzol has done what he set out to do and made you laugh and smile at the last sentence, bringing a smile back to your face instead of the grimace you were wearing discussing your world’s culture. You shake your head giggling.

“Maybe compared to you lot! Back home though, I’m considered quite big.” You gesture at your belly and chubby thighs, kicking out your legs a bit. “It would be more difficult if I were trying to date men I think, other queer women tend to be more forgiving of different body types.” You shrug and then notice the stare that Rokal has fixed you with, blushing a little self consciously. You’re so used to being proudly out in your world that you didn’t even stop to consider whether or not same sex relationships were acceptable in this one. You couldn’t be sure if orcish society here was the same as it was in the fiction of your universe, open and accepting of those who were true to their emotions and experiences, unabashedly themselves. “Are those sorts of relationships not acceptable in your world?” You glance out shyly at the rest of the orcs and find them fixing you with silly grins.

“Oh, no, not at all, you are attracted to who you are attracted to, there is no shame in loving anyone.” Balzol smiles wider, and you think an outsider would find you absolutely insane for not being intimidated by his huge tusks and glinting piercings, but you think he looks like a big overexcited puppy. “You know, our Rokal is the same as you...many find her too big for an orc female. It makes her quite good at what she has chosen to do though, there is no shame in living in your body.” Rokal glances down at you a little sheepishly to find you beaming up at her, your little face tilted up and filled with open affection.

You stare at each other for a moment, and you take in the scars on her face, one bisecting her left eyebrow and a thick one that just pulls the right corner of her mouth down going from her cheek down to her chin. She’s missing a chunk of one ear, it looks like a bite was taken out of it, and on either side of the wound she’s placed a shiny silver cuff. Her other ear is studded with piercings of silver and bone from the lobe all the way up to the pointed tip, a few of them dangling and clinking together when she moved. Her hair is in a mohawk, braided to the scalp and then loose down her back, keeping the hair out of her face but leaving room for traditional beads and feathers marking her achievements. She has intricately embellished rings around each tusk, and you think you noticed the glint of a stud through her tongue.

The two of you are blatantly eye-fucking each other, and you forget for a second that there are others there with you as you take in this huge, beautiful woman. Your mouth runs away from you, “I don’t think you’re too big, I think you’re gorgeous.” Your face burns as you suddenly remember that there are other people there when one of them snorts. You desperately wish you could shove the words back in your throat but sadly that isn’t possible. Rokal smirks at you though, seemingly unphased by your embarrassment.

“Well I can say the same of you, little one.” She almost purrs at you, and you forget how to breathe. She’s flirting. With you. She’s flirting with you. Oh god what do you do? So you opt to stare up at her, blushing and with slightly parted lips, and she laughs deeply. One of her thick arms snakes around your waist, her big hand sitting on your hip and squeezing slightly as she turns back to the rest of the orcs. “So you keep your grubby hands off, she isn’t interested in brutes like you.”

“Yeah, she’s interested in brutes like you!” Gurukk’s retort makes you giggle and lean into Rokal’s side, turning your head slightly to hide your blush. He isn’t wrong, after all. She laughs as well, bright and happy and loud, pulling you closer so your soft thigh is pressed right up against her muscular one.

“And don’t you forget it!” Rokal’s grin is happy, and it’s nice to see her comfortable and less worried. She looks in her element, and it makes you swoon a little more. This confident, brash orc woman was juuuust your type. “Now, little one, would you like to watch us play our game? We were playing Houses and Humans when we managed to summon you here, I’d like to know what you think of it.” Her smile is no less big, but seems gentler when she looks down at you. You nod wordlessly and her smile turns to a smirk as she thumbs your chin affectionately. “Well I am afraid we only have enough chairs for our group, so you’ll have to sit on my lap...unless you’d rather sit with one of the boys.” Your blush returns tenfold, but you smile up at her just a little shyly and shuffle even closer.

Rokal laughs and lifts you up from beside her before standing in one fluid motion. You giggle and cling to her, your arms doing their best to wrap around her broad shoulders and neck. When she settles back down at the table behind her screen you’re struck by how much this looks like a game of Dungeons and Dragons, and you comment on it. You explain D&D, and they laugh, admitting that it does in fact sound similar. You pretend to be magic beings, strong warriors, and cunning rogues, but they live in a world where that is their daily existence so they pretend to be mundane, living in a world where they have to get by on just their cunning, intelligence, and smarts - street or book.

She hands you back your bag of knitting, and you’re thankful to have not dropped any stitches by your count while the rest of the crew get settled back at their spots, refilling mugs of mead and bringing out dried meat and cheese. Rokal feeds you from her portion, making sure that you have had your fill before eating the rest, her rations are plenty big to feed her tiny little human without depriving herself of nutrients she assured you, and you couldn’t help the way your heart stuttered when she called you hers.

You watch their game curiously while knitting, curled up in Rokal’s lap feeling warm and happy. You eventually fall asleep curled up against her stomach, the soothing rhythm of her breath and the occasional rumble of her laugh lulling you into darkness. You are asleep when your arm wraps possessively around her waist while your head nuzzles into the tender skin just beneath her binder. She stills, freezing and looking down at you. The boys roar into laughter briefly before she shushes them with a bare of her teeth while gesturing down at you. They don’t quiet down too much, but keep it to a dull rumble instead of an all out riot. One of her hands pets through your hair, smiling gently as you bury your head further into her. This is what she had been missing, what she has needed her whole life. Someone to protect and care for, someone open and loving who will cherish her as much as she cherishes them. This little human was a surprise, but certainly a welcome one. Even if she only got to be with you for a short time, she would cherish and make the most of it.

It is late into the night when they finally stop. The blizzard raging outside means that they will not be patrolling until the weather lets up some. Rokal stands and cradles you in her arms, smiling at the way your face pushes against her neck, searching for her scent and warmth. You seem in tune with your nature, something orcs valued, and your nature seemed very in tune with her own. Without too much thought she sits on her bed, laying you out underneath her sheets and blanket before sliding in next to you. She can’t help the happy sigh she lets out when you curl into her side as if looking for her, one of your thick thighs slung over her leg. Her fingers card through your hair, sending up a thankful prayer to whatever forces brought you here.

You wake in the middle of the night to something caressing your ample breast and teasing over your puckering nipple. With a soft whimper you buck against whatever is between your thighs that feels so hot and firm. Your memories flood back to you, waking up in a world with orcs, and when you realize you’re definitely not hallucinating this time you still. Glancing up you can see that Rokal is asleep, one of her arms keeping you tucked firmly against her side where your full length is cuddled up along her torso, her other arm slung across her stomach and her hand unconsciously fondling your breast.

You gasp when her clever fingers pinch your nipple, moving your hips against her thigh again to press your panty-covered mound against her muscles. She shifts in her sleep, dragging you further up her body as her grip tightens, your core now pressed right into the thick protrusion of her hip bone. Rokal seems to stir at the heat of you against her, and the softness of your breasts dragging over her flesh. She squeezes slightly, making you squeak as it digs your crotch deeper into her hip. Her hips buck in return, the hand on your breast groping as she moans lightly, waking from sleep slowly. Her bright eyes lock with yours as you gaze up at her, pupils already blown with lust from her unconscious stimulation. She smiles down at you, sultry and predatory, her movements becoming conscious as she grinds up against your obvious arousal, feeling the soft flesh of your labia press enticingly against her hard hip bone. You bite your lower lip firmly, trying to keep the whimper in your throat from escaping and failing. She chuckles. “Don’t worry little one, they sleep like the dead, and besides, there is no shame in bringing pleasure to your lover.” Her hands move down to your hips, dragging you to straddle her abs.

Rokal smiles down the length of her body as she strips off your dress to reveal your bra and panties. Her hands squeeze the flesh of your belly and migrate up to grope your breasts. She tries to remove the garment and you giggle at her attempts to pull it off of you before you reach behind yourself and undo it for her. It’s her turn to gape at you as she sees your breasts for the first time. You’d usually be self conscious of their sag, and your stretch marks, but she looks at you with such wonder, her hand trembling slightly as she reaches up to caress one gently with her calloused and scarred fingers. She hauls you further up her body as she pulls your face down to hers. Your first kiss is heated and passionate, but with an underlying sweet loving wonderment, as if she’s pouring everything she’s felt from the moment she saw you until now into this kiss. Her tusks press firmly against your chubby cheeks but don’t poke you at all, you let out a pleased sigh when her tongue slips out from between her lips to push between your own. You were right, she does have a tongue piercing, and when you playfully tug on it with your teeth she growls at you and presses your hips down harder against the hard plane of her abs.

She swallows your whimper, instead moving your hips and flexing her muscles to slowly stimulate your clit. She gives a husky chuckle when your panties begin to soak through, sticking to your flesh and leaving a trail of your essence shining her skin like an emerald in the dim light of the banked fire. You let out a surprised squeal when she moves you up her body again like it’s nothing, straddling your plush thighs around her head while she hooks one tusk through your panties, shredding them away and off your body to flutter onto her chest. She’s panting, chest heaving, as she stares awed at your flesh, the curly hair of your mound glistening with your arousal, lips slightly parted to reveal deep pink flesh within. “You’re so beautiful, my love.” The endearment rolls off her tongue so effortlessly, and sounds so right, you can’t correct her. You think you love her too. Her calloused hands smooth up the inside of your soft thighs, gripping up at the top of your thighs and using her thumbs to spread the outer labia of your sex. Your whimper of ‘Rokal’ just makes her give a sultry laugh. “Don’t worry, little one, I’ve got you.”

Your hand clamps over your mouth at the first contact her tongue makes with your flesh, despite her assurances that the others slept like the dead you really didn’t want them to see you like this, pinned against the face of your lover. The desperate moan she gives you sizzles along your nerves frying your brain. Her tusks are warm and firm pressed against the inside of your labia, and you find yourself marveling for a moment how they hold you open for her as her hands stroke up to grasp your ass, kneading and pulling you firmly against her mouth. Her tongue pushes up into you as her broad flat nose nudges against your clit. You whimper, thighs twitching in pleasure as she presses and angles her tongue just right to push the stud through her tongue on your g-spot. You whimper her name again and she chuckles huskily before pulling away and licking her lips. “You taste so sweet, is this all for me?” Your shy whimper is enough of an answer and she chuckles again. “I wonder what kind of noises I can get you to make…”

Rokal sits up some, taking you with her. You’re flipped upside down, your head and upper back resting on her stomach as her legs are held out in front of her. Your legs are folded back, knees close to your shoulders as she pushes your thighs up, pinning you open completely for her and making it so you can’t move. She hold you in that position with one arm, and you’ve never felt more helpless or turned on. “R-Rokal…” You whimper, you don’t know what you’re asking for but she gives you a comforting pat on the rear.

“Shhh little one, Rok’s got you, don’t worry…” You gasp as her free hand firmly smooths up your ass and the back of your thigh, thumb pulling at the lips of your sex again. She parts you with her middle and forefinger, exposing you to her intense gaze. She chuckles, leaning down to lick a stripe from your asshole up to your clit, making you choke out a whimper. She probes her thick middle finger against your hole, circling teasingly with the rough pad of her fingertip before plunging all the way inside you. The needy moan you let out makes her chuckle, and the only movement from the others is a louder snore from one before it evens out again.

“I liked that one.” She draws your attention back to her, slowly pistoning her middle finger in and out of you. With her eyes locked with yours she presses a second finger into you, crooking them slightly and moving faster. You let out another moan, raising in pitch as her fingers find that spot inside you that makes your inner thighs twitch. Her chuckle is raspier, voice thick with arousal, you wish you could squirm but all you can do is curl your toes and grip your hands into fists. “Such a good girl for me, so good, you can take one more yeah?” You don’t think you can, but you don’t want to disappoint Rokal, so you nod a little and whimper as she slowly fits a third thick finger inside you.

It only takes a minute for you to be a drooling, whimpering mess pinned into submission by this giant muscular goddess while three of her impossibly thick fingers piston themselves in and out of your weeping pussy. The choked gasp that precedes your orgasm is a noise you don’t think you’ve ever made before, Rokal just smirks at you knowingly moving even just a little faster and deeper as you begin to spasm around her. You let out a wail of pleasure, and she coos your name affectionately as she starts to slow, working you through the last of your orgasm and wringing every drop of pleasure she possibly could from you.

Rokal releases you, arranging you over her lap with your head against her chest again, dropping kisses all along your hair and face, murmuring affectionate praises of you as you wither against her, spent with pleasure. Your arms are still slightly shaking with effort as you wrap them around her waist, burrowing into her heat. You want to return the favor, but you aren’t sure you can even keep your eyes open. It isn’t even a minute after that when you fall asleep again, making Rokal chuckle affectionately and kiss the crown of your head. Perhaps over the coming months she could convince you to stay…

Waking the next morning is a much less sensual affair, although you are embarrassed by your nudity at the very least you’re beneath a wool blanket and no one else has to know. Rokal’s hand skates affectionately up her back, the scratch of her callouses a pleasant contrast against your soft skin. “Good morning my love.” The endearment falls from your lips unthinkingly, and when you move to blush and turn away Rokal stills you with a hand on your cheek and beams down at you before kissing you fully on the lips. This kiss is less passionate than last night’s, but no less warm and loving. The wolf whistle beside you makes her lift her hand in a rude gesture and pull back slightly, growling something in Orcish.

While you didn’t love not understanding what she was saying, you’d be lying if you said hearing her speak that the guttural language didn’t turn you on a little bit. She gives you another chaste kiss before crawling out of bed, thankfully distracting the others for long enough that you can put on your bra and the tunic she’s lent you, that’s more like a dress on you. It at least comes down to your knees, and though it hangs bare off one shoulder due to the wide neck, it’s warm and smells like Rokal.

The day passes lazily, with some food and cards, exchanging stories, and Shokk showing off some basic conjuring used to impress young children. The others find it funny that you’re so enthralled, but Rokal just uses her limited knowledge of magic to produce you a pretty flower and the way you giggle and blush up at her makes her thankful that this doesn’t exist in your world. This is something she can give you that no one else can, at least no one from your universe. Perhaps it can be a reason to stay.

It’s three weeks of isolation in the cabin before the blizzard has stopped and the weather cleared enough that the party can patrol. You’re left on your own for the first time since you got here, and find yourself lonely without Rokal. And the others, you hastily tack on, Rokal and the others. But you know you’re lying to yourself. You love that big gruff orc, her cute smiles, the way her cheeks turn a dark emerald when she blushes, those lingering sultry looks, her goofy laugh, the way she tells stories, you could make a list for days. But This wasn’t your world, and you knew it would be too much to hope that she might want you to stay once winter was over and they headed back to their stronghold after finishing their tour.

You’ve managed to work yourself up into quite a tizzy when the door to the large cabin slams open and Rokal comes in calling out your name in a sing-song lilt. You’re confused to find her alone, and give her a puzzled look as she sweeps in to pull you up into a full kiss, one hand under your thighs holding you up while the other cups your cheek lovingly. You melt into her, relaxing under her careful ministrations. She pulls back and smiles at you, full of open affection. “I have something I must ask you, little one, and something I must tell you.” She places you down and cages your face between both of her large hands. You’d be worried if her smile wasn’t so bright and her eyes so full of obvious warmth. “I love you, I have since you landed on the floor of this cabin, and I would like for you to be my mate. I will protect you, provide for you, I will love you for the rest of our days together. Will you stay?”

Rokal is worried momentarily at the tears in your eyes, but when you launch yourself at her, sniffling and murmuring yes over and over again, she laughs heartily and scoops you up, spinning you in a circle. “Does that mean you’re my wife?” You giggle up at her, placing your own hands on either of her cheeks, smiling up with sparkling tear-filled eyes. She nods, giving you a roguish grin.

“Although, my little mate, we have to make it official…” The hungry look she’s giving you fills you with need and you’re looking forward to finally being able to touch her as she has you. Every time you’ve tried she’s told you that your noises are cute and small, but hers are too loud for shared quarters. You’d pout up at her, trying to argue, but you weren’t about to do something she didn’t want and so you let it be. “The boys are all going to spend the night in the village at the tavern, I told them I planned to propose.” She’s got an excited grin on her face but she’s a bit embarrassed. You’re touched by her care, and the fact that she wanted you to be someplace you felt comfortable instead of simply whisking the two of you to the village and letting them all sleep in their usual bunks.

You’re brought out of your thoughts by Rokal’s hands trailing up your thighs and pushing underneath the tunic of hers you’d thrown on today. You’d asked her once why she had them if she never wore them, and she just laughed at you saying they’re to go under her armor when she goes out on patrol or to battle, more to protect her armor from her skin than to protect her skin from the armor. Her hands make quick work of the garment, leaving you bare before her. She groans happily and kneels in front of you reverently, her face in line with your chest as you stand. She nuzzles her face into your breasts, hands pressing into the soft flesh of your stomach, and you giggle. “Rokal, my love, will you let me touch you?” You tilt her face up towards you with your little hands, staring down at her with such love and devotion.

Her answering smile is filled with heat and she turns to kiss your palm before standing before you. Stepping back slightly she pulls off her leather armor, leaving her in tight leggings and a loose tunic that looks just like the one she pulled off of you. The tunic comes off and you can see her usual leather bindings, the small loincloth when she tugs off her leggings though is a surprise, and you can’t help but admire the way it lays over the jut of her hip bones, the flat of her pubic bone leading up to her abs, you were going to be married to a literal goddess. She wants to tease you, but instead of words Rokal simply untucks the end of her chest bindings and lets the leather unravel onto the floor.

Her breasts are small and pert atop muscular pecs, still soft and feminine but they fit the rest of her figure. Her nipples are a dark green and puckered enticingly, begging for your lips, and who are you to deny them? Without preamble you step forwards, placing a kiss to the center of her chest before trailing your soft lips over to one breast. You take her nipple between your lips, sucking gently and teasing it with your tongue, and she lets out a low rumbling moan of your name. Her fingers tangle in your hair, tugging you closer to her breast. You moan against her flesh in answer, sucking on her nipple slightly more firmly and lashing across it with your clever little tongue. You move to take the other in your mouth, lifting a hand to tease and caress the nipple you just released. The words leaving her lips are in Orcish but they sound like pleas and praises to your ears, walking her back to the table you push her slightly until she’s sitting on the edge, long muscular legs splayed in front of her while she leans back onto her palms.

She grins wickedly at your open stare, flexing and posing for you as you ogle. “Do you see something you like, little mate?” You bite your lower lip, nodding as you walk up to her. You kiss down the center of her chest and down her abs, your hands massaging and caressing up the inside of firm thighs before your head and hands meet between her legs. You undo her loincloth without trouble, revealing the puffy outer labia of her emerald green sex, covered in thick dark hair glistening with drops of her arousal. You dive in like a woman starved, and the triumphant yell she lets out is definite proof of why she hadn’t let you do this sooner.

You find her clit, larger than you’re used to but it simply gives you more to work with. Your lips close over it softly as you gently press against it with your tongue, but the way Rokal’s fingers tighten in your hair and she growls at you tell you to go harder. You up the suction of your mouth, slowly increasing until you reach a point where she starts rutting her hips against your face. You lash your tongue over the head of her clit, using first two and then three fingers to push into her. “More!” Her cry is wanton, just audible above the grunts and moans she keeps letting out as she fucks her clit into your mouth. You press in a fourth finger and she glares down at you “I said more, mate.” You angle your thumb to slide in as well and begin pumping in and out to the wrist. She let out a long, loud groan of approval as you fist her, continuing to rut her clit into your suctioning mouth against your lapping tongue.

It only takes a moment of all of this stimulation for her to release all over your face, squirting so much that it soaks your arm and down your front. You don’t stop, milking her orgasm for all it is worth, and as long as she continues moving you do too. After her first orgasm she reaches a second quickly, not squirting this time but still clenching around your hand and screaming your name to the gods along with your praises of how she loves you.

She’s a panting mess leaning back against the table while you step back, giggling up at her a little proud of your handiwork. You made this beautiful, strong warrior into a puddle of melting, feminine goo. It takes her a moment to compose herself and once she catches her breath she stares at you with with a lewd gaze, licking her lips suggestively. “Oh my little mate, you are in such trouble.” She chuckles and you bolt, making her laugh. You barely make it four steps before she’s caught you in her grip and forced you face down onto her bunk.

“My beautiful wife…” She hums against your neck, nuzzling your skin while being careful with her tusks. The feeling of her nude body next to yours is better than you ever dreamed. No leather edges or cold spots, just warm scarred skin and heat. She hikes your hips up and keeps your shoulders pressed against the blanket, forcing your back to arch and exposing your heated sex. Normally she loves going down on you, teasing you until you’re a whimpering begging mess. But today she shoves two of her thick fingers into your waiting channel, knowing this is all she needs to do to make you hers forever.

“Rokal, I love you so much…” Your answering whimper makes her hum against your skin and drop a soft kiss, murmuring her own endearments in Orcish. She’s gentler than normal, but still lets you know who’s in control, using three of her fingers to bring you to your peak. You think you’re going to get rest but she merely pins your legs in place with one of her own and continues pumping her fingers into you. Your second orgasm surprises you, coming so quickly after the first, and that’s when she begins using her thumb to rub your clit. Her stimulation is gentle but still too much, and you try to wriggle your hips and relieve the pressure. She shushes you, kissing your neck and cheek, but keeping you pinned as she continues fucking you with her thick green fingers.

Your third orgasm has you screaming and hoarsely begging, it’s too much, but she just chuckles. “You can give me one more my love, come, it is my job on our wedding night to pleasure you as much as you can handle.” Your pained whimper makes her chuckle again and speed up just slightly. The incessant fingers inside you and on your clit make you come apart one more time as she kisses your neck and spine, whispering praises against your flesh. “So good for me, my mate, so beautiful. I promise you a long life of this.” You whimper, a boneless heap on the bed. She pulls you onto her, resting your head on her breast and cradling you against her body as you lay fully atop her.

“I love you.” Your tired mumble makes her smile and pet your hair, her hands are smoothing over your body, careful not to touch anywhere too sensitive, soothing and relaxing you into sleep. When you awake after your nap you’re alone in bed, but Rokal has dragged out a huge wooden tub and is boiling some water over the fire to make a bath for the two of you. Her muscular naked back contracts as she lifts the heavy kettle from over the fire, pouring the water into the tub until it reaches a comfortable steaming temperature. She gives you a wide smile when she notices your stare from the bed, holding out her hand and asking you to come take a bath. If this was to be your life here, with this beautiful creature who loved you, well, going home was no longer on the table. “I’m coming my love, just let me look at you some more.” Your tender smile makes her blush and rub her neck awkwardly, and you just giggle. Yes, this would be a good life.

#terato #monster love #female orc #fem orc #female reader #fem reader #wlw #lesbian fiction #lesbian love #hopeless romantic #exophilia

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marinsawakening · 5 years

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Seducing Trouble

Genre: supernatural/slice of life

Wordcount: 1716

Notes: based on a prompt by an anon on @aroworlds, but I’m gonna say sorry in advance because I don’t know how well this fills it? There is a casual coming out, but it’s not really the focus, and I’m very sorry. Furthermore, this is set in an ongoing universe of mine, and I hope that I explained the basic gist of it well enough. This has low romance and very light pda, but heavier mentions of seduction of the magic kind, although that gets shut down pretty quick. Also light swearing. Re-upload because the last ‘read more’ link got broken when I changed my url; also did some minor editing/rewriting while I was at it. The original is here.

It was the busiest day they had so far this year, the café was packed, Nancy was outside dealing with two warring dwarven clans, and frankly, Nathalie did not have time for this.

She gave the kid another once-over. He was small, tiny even, but thin enough that it made him look lanky anyway. His bright red hair stood out against his milky white skin, and he was nervously fidgeting with its curls, his hands almost shaking, looking as if a single mean word would make him crumple up into a ball and cry.

In short, he did not seem suited to work at a café where the job description included ‘scare away alien bandits and fight with powerful witches’. And now it was her job to tell him that.

“What was your name again, kid?”

“Ethan, miss,” he squeaked.

Actually squeaked, in a high-pitch voice and everything. He’d be pulled apart molecule by molecule before the end of the week if she let him get this job.

Nathalie sighed. He seemed like a nice kid, and she really didn’t want to do this, but she’d rather have him heartbroken than literally broken.

“Listen, Ethan...”

And of course, right at that moment, Nancy came flying back inside, crashing into the closest table.

“Alright!” she screeched, wringing coffee out of her pink hair. “That’s it! All of you are blacklisted!”

In the doorway, a dwarf watched her, horrified. “But -”

“No buts, I warned all of you that fighting is not tolerated on the premises, and now there’s property damage! Not a single one of you is setting a foot inside ever again!”

“The Darleurs started it!” the dwarf screeched, stomping his little feet.

Nancy sent him a glare, and even with several meters between them, the dwarf quieted. “I could not care less about who started it,” she hissed. “Until you learn to behave like civilized beings, you will not be served here. Now get out before I blow your brains out!”

And the dwarf proved to have something resembling a brain to be blown out in the first place, because he moved out of there, quick.

“Ehm, excuse me?” the man who had been sitting at the crashed-in table tentatively spoke up. “Do I get a new coffee?”

Immediately, Nancy’s demeanor changed from ‘lion on the prowl’ to ‘charming house cat’.

“Of course! Let me just give you a new table. I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright, my own timeline is much more violent.”

Smoothly, Nancy seated the man at another table, and finally headed over to the counter.

“Don’t you think blacklisting was kind of extreme?” Nathalie asked, handing her a towel.

Nancy snorted. “Please, they would have destroyed the restaurant if my protective charms hadn’t kept it standing. This’ll teach them to behave themselves in the future.” She accepted the towel with a grateful look and began rubbing her shirt dry.

Nathalie sent a quick glance at Ethan, who was gripping the counter tightly and staring at Nancy with a mixture of fear and awe. At least he seemed to have some sense of basic self-preservation.

“Does that happen often?” he asked.

Nancy blinked, and only seemed to notice him then.

“And who are you?”

“Ethan, miss. I’m applying for the job of waiter.”

Nancy perked up immediately. “Oh, excellent! As you see, we really need an extra hand. And yes, this happens often.”

Ethan hummed. “Explains why the pay is so high.”

Nancy threw her head back and laughed, and it was all Nathalie could do not to sink her head into her arms from despair. The kid practically admitted that he only wanted to work here because of the high salary, and her response was to laugh. It was moments like these that made Nathalie wonder how on Earth they’d managed to keep the café going for this long.

“Yeah, that’s why the pay is so high,” Nancy finally confirmed, still giggling slightly. “You got any experience?”

Ethan shrugged. “Only worked for a bit in the school cafeteria, but I do know how to make coffee.”

“Perfect!” she shoved a coffee cup in Ethan’s hands. “You’re on probation for today, if you do well we’ll hire you.”

“Nancy!” Nathalie hissed, low enough that Ethan couldn’t hear. Nancy ignored her.

“The man I crashed into earlier wants a latte, so that’ll be your first order. House rules are that everyone who sits here for an extended period of time needs to order something, no one gets free coffee no matter how hard they beg, the currency that’s paid with needs to be from Earth and human at the very least, guests must be respectful to the employees or they get thrown out, and no fighting. March!”

Ethan practically glowed and nodded eagerly, scrambling to the other side of the counter, almost tripping over the broom that rested against it. “Yes, miss!”

“And stop with the miss, call me Nancy.”

“Yes, Nancy!”

“Better.”

As soon as possible, Nathalie pulled her aside.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, sending her a glare.

Nancy just seemed confused. “I put Ethan on probation?”

“He pretty much said that he only wants to work here because the pay is high!”

“Yeah, of course he does, did we have any other reason when we were his age?”

She groaned. “Nance, he looks like a stiff wind could blow him over; he won’t survive a day in here.”

Nancy rolled her eyes and pecked her on the nose. “Babe, don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”

“No pda in the workplace,” Nathalie muttered, but she relaxed as Nancy squeezed her hand.

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry,” she gave a soft smile. “Just for today, okay? We’ve already had to blacklist two dwarven clans, I doubt we’ll have any more trouble.”

Of course, right at that moment, the door opened and trouble walked in.

She was gorgeous, with golden strands of hair framing a face that seemed to house the sun. Her skin was like ivory catching the last rays of sunshine, and her beautiful blue eyes, visible from across the room, shone and glittered like a precious stone.

Immediately, she let Nancy’s hand go.

The woman turned to Nathalie, and she almost fainted.

“Hello,” she said, with a brilliant smile and honeyed voice. “Can I have a cup of coffee from the lovely miss? I’m afraid I don’t have any money.”

“Oh, that’s - I mean - of course!” Nathalie stammered, nervously touching the ends of her afro. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice was telling her that something was wrong, but then the woman winked on her, and all she could think was wow.

“Follow me, please!” Nancy said from beside her, and Nathalie felt the sudden urge to push her to the ground and take the attention back for herself. “We’ll get you a coffee right away!”

“Uh, no, we aren’t.”

Ethan stood there next to the coffee machine, the latte still in his hand, eyebrows raised.

“I thought you said nobody was allowed to free coffee?” Ethan asked.

Nancy waved him off. “We’ll make an exception for this lovely lady.”

Ethan glanced at them, and then at the woman, and slowly set the latte down.

“Yeah, that’s a no.”

The woman strode forward, reaching for Ethan with a radiant smile.

“Oh, please?” she said, latching on to his arm. “Surely you can give little old me something?”

In response, Ethan’s arm shot out to the broom he’d almost tripped over, and whacked her over the head.

She screeched and fell back, loosening her grip on Ethan’s arm. It was like a spell had been broken. Abruptly, Nathalie found her coming back to herself, almost stumbling from the impact, and she blinked, dazed, wondering what had just happened.

The woman, who had earlier been so beautiful, was still absolutely gorgeous. But now she caught the hungry glint in her eye, saw the unnatural way the light danced over her skin, and noticed that her too-sweet voice, much less hypnotic now that she was only screaming, was laced with cyanide.

Next to her, Nancy stumbled, swaying slightly on her legs, and shared a glance with her. “Succubus,” she said, a hard set to her eyes.

Nathalie just groaned.

“Why did you do that?” the succubus snarled.

“I didn’t give you permission to touch me,” Ethan said, stone in his voice, still clutching the broom.

“You’re supposed to be in love with me!”

Ethan snorted. “Aromantic, so that’s gonna be kind of difficult.”

“At least be seduced!”

“I’m gay.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Yup, and I’m just as serious when I say that you’ll either get the hell out of here, or I’m going to beat you with this broom until you stumble out of here with broken bones.”

She turned to Nathalie, batting her eyelashes, but it was too late; the spell was broken.

“Are you gonna let him do that to me?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said, grinning as the succubus’ mouth fell open.

“In fact,” Nancy added. “I’m personally going to throw a grenade of magic into your direction if you don’t do as he says.”

The succubus shrank back, incredulous. “You’re a witch?”

“Yes, and one that never finished charm school, so watch out.”

She blanched, and took off running. But not to the entrance; she ran to the nearest customer, the poor time traveler who had gotten crashed into earlier.

“What about you? Won’t you buy me a coffee?”

The man’s eyes were wide and dreamy. “I -”

“I think the fuck not,” Ethan growled, and he raised his broom.

The next few minutes were spent in a blur of screaming, whacking, and succubi getting run out of the café by a seventeen year old kid who vaguely resembled a translucent twig.

“I don’t care what you say,” Nancy announced. “I’m hiring him.”

#my writing #my posts #aro stuff

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strwbrymoonchild · 4 years

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Creating Our Own Spaces: Open Television and the Importance of Intersectional Streaming Platforms

Open Television (OTV) supports Chicago-based artists by producing indie web series and pilots that tell intersectional stories. The platform revolutionizes streaming by highlighting nuances in the lived experiences of people of color and the LGBTQ community, and by intentionally holding space for joy, healing, and humor. Lack of diversity in film is well-documented; a recent study by the Annenberg Inclusion Initiative shows that of the top 100 films in 2019, 78 had no LGBTQ characters and 94 had no female-identified LGBTQ characters. The study also found that of 4,357 speaking roles, only 61 (1.4%) were LGBTQ, forty-five characters were gay, 10 characters were lesbian, 3 characters were bisexual and 3 characters were transgender. All three trans characters had a total screen time of no more than 2 minutes. About 71% of these LGBTQ speaking roles were white. While there have been both strides and shortcomings in efforts to increase the depth of LGBTQ and BIPOC television characters in mainstream media, diversity, and inclusion behind the camera is just as integral to filmmaking as representation on screen.

There are some perceptions that we are entering into a Black film Renaissance. The rise of shows like Insecure and Atlanta FX in addition to major Black blockbuster moments for films like Black Panther and Moonlight all suggest that progress is being made. However, the figures reported by The Annenberg Inclusion Initiative show that the number of movies with Black Directors in 2019 fell by more than half; only nine movies released in 2019 had Black directors whereas 15 movies released in 2018 had Black directors.Even when we look at Black and POC directors as a whole, the numbers don’t get much more encouraging; the study also found that out of the 112 directors that made movies in 2019, 19.6% were from underrepresented racial and ethnic groups. While representation for Black directors has been halved, the percentage of women directors helming the most popular films more than doubled between 2018 and 2019. Nevertheless, their share of representation remains critically low. The Annenberg Inclusion Initiative found that only 10.6% of directors across the top 100 films of 2019 were women. When it comes to writing and producing, representation for women is only slightly better. Women made up 14.4 % of writers across the top 100 films, and only 21.1% of producers.

Diversity behind the scenes is so crucial because it ensures that marginalized communities can tell their stories using characters that have distinct voices, complex backgrounds, agency that extends beyond tokenistic supporting roles, or even leads roles that myopically reinforce tired tropes and harmful stereotypes. For example, when Black writers are in the room, they can construct characters that speak like us instead of mis/overusing awkward AAVE that’s cut and pasted from Twitter into contexts that don’t fit. When women writers are in the room, they can squelch manic pixie tropes and fridging for the sake of male character development. When LGBTQ writers are in the room they can mitigate issues like queerbaiting or focus solely on the trauma of coming out stories without centering queer joy and romance. Similarly, when producers with marginalized identities are in the room, they can thwart gatekeeping by expanding the production value of films made by marginalized artists with limited resources, and by prioritizing inexpensive and creative ways of funding and distributing media (e.g. crowdfunding, virtual screenings, DIY film festivals, etc.). Furthermore, when filmmaking spaces lack diversity, the result can be toxic and alienating, which stifles creativity and demoralizes BIPOC and/or LGBTQ creators. OTV has shown that one of the keys to creating authentic stories is not only getting diverse voices in the room but also making the room a brave space that emphasizes accountability and community while allowing artists the independence and freedom to innovatively experiment with storytelling without fear of exploitation, bigotry, or violence.

OTV exemplifies how critical it is to not only feed diverse narratives into the mainstream media, but to introduce more accessible, inclusive, and alternative ways of filmmaking.

Executives in the film industry often buy into the misconception that intersectional stories that have characters with marginalized identities aren’t worth the investment because they only appeal to niche audiences. On the contrary, many viewers don’t just want cookie cutter, predominately white shows; they are hungry for diverse content that is striking, informational, and binge-worthy. A study released by UCLA revealed that in 2019, films with 41%-50% minority cast earned the most from box office ticket sales, whereas films with the least diverse casts performed the poorest. The #RepresentationMatters report that the National Research Group released in September 2020 shows that 2 in 3 Black Americans don’t see themselves represented in movies or television, and 86% of Black Americans want to see more representative stories on screen. Taken together, these findings suggest that when underrepresented groups see someone who looks like them in a film, it makes them want to support it more because representation is such a coveted rarity for these groups.

It's not enough to sprinkle diversity into mainstream media to increase sales. OTV exemplifies how critical it is to not only feed diverse narratives into the mainstream media, but to introduce more accessible, inclusive, and alternative ways of filmmaking. Recently, Open Television started the OTV Fellows program for emerging writers and directors from marginalized communities. The program seeks out and supports promising talent, helping them build their portfolios for a career in the film industry. OTV also hosts a seven-part workshop series called OTV Study Hall, which features a wide range of panelists and offers insights into career development, production, and marketing.

When we create intersectional TV platforms that are for and by us, shows that spotlight multiple marginalized identities can reach their full potential, and flourish in conversation with content that has a similar range. There is power and value in seeing multi-faceted, genre-bending, intersectional stories as the centerpiece of streaming, rather than cramming them into a specialty category tucked away in a corner of Netflix or Hulu or trying to make them fit in a category where they don’t belong.

Check out some top picks from OTV’s incredible content below

The T | For fans of Pose FX and Lovesick

The T follows the relationship between a Trans white woman named Jo and a queer Black man named Carter. The two are former lovers turned best friends who support each other through the insecurities and bigotry they face as they re-enter the dating world.

You’re So Talented | For fans of The Incredible Jessica James and Brown Girls

You’re So Talented follows Bea, an actor looking for work in Chicago and navigating the twists and turns of love and life in her twenties. A character many millennial BIPOC creatives out there can relate to, Bea does her best to find meaning through her art while keeping the bills paid. Through it all, her best friend’s Devin and Jesse are always there for her. (You may recognize the actor who plays Bea, Sam Bailey, as the Director and Producer of hit web series, Brown Girls).

The Right Swipe | For fans of Broad City and The Perfect Date

We’ve all seen our fair share of tragic online dating app profiles: a man holding big fish twice his size, stale jokes about The Office, shameless gym mirror selfies, etc.. In The Right Swipe, best friends and business partners India and Margo team up to start a business fixing men’s dating profiles. They extend their services to a diverse set of clients including a trans man, a queer poet, and a hotep. They have 3 simple ground rules 1. They must use their powers for good, 2. They charge clients on a sliding scale, and 3. No sleeping with or dating clients.

Velvet | For fans of Insecure

A hyper-competitive young professional named Demetra attempts to revive her social life by striking up a friendship with her cooler more laidback coworker Cymone. The duo eventually builds a squad of friends who take on the city of Chicago as they explore their own identities and relationships with each other.

The Haven | For fans of Orange Is the New Black (before they killed off Poussey)

The Haven follows the story of overworked and underpaid staff members at a domestic violence shelter. Once accepted into the shelter, residents of The Haven have only 90 days of refuge before they must find a way to propel themselves onto a new life path. The odds are stacked against those seeking a fresh start as they face a range of obstacles including addiction, mental illness, poverty, immigration complexities, and PTSD.

Damaged Goods | For fans of Euphoria

Bathed in technicolor and barely getting by, four young, messy creatives of color walk down uncertain paths of self-discovery in Chicago. When Sanavi tries to dismantle the Boy’s Club in her white-dominated workplace, she’s met with hostility and discrimination. Meanwhile, Caleb navigates the queer club scene and struggles to make ends meet. In contrast, Marlo thrives as a Black wellness guru/yogi/influencer. Ezra supports himself as a weed dealer and Uber driver, but has big dreams of becoming an artist.

Otito Greg-Obi is a poet and aspiring screenwriter based in Washington D.C. Her poetry appears in "small poems for the masses," a quarterly zine by Post Ghost Press. She is a former member of The Excelano Project, a poetry collective in Philadelphia. When she’s not writing you can find her slow-mo milly rocking in the pouring rain to MorMor, baking sourdough bread, over/underwatering succulents, or knitting something cozy. Her favorite color is mint green, and she’s obsessed with pop culture and with television (particularly dramedies and dystopian sci-fi). You can find her on Twitter at @otweetoh

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gonewiddershins · 1 year

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I posted 5,383 times in 2022

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I tagged 5,370 of my posts in 2022

#this amuses me - 1,559 posts

#spy x family - 531 posts

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Longest Tag: 109 characters

#every twilight/thorn princess fanart i see is so hot and/or serious – something straight out of a mafia movie

My Top Posts in 2022:

Book Rec Ask Meme (Part 3 of 7)

18. your least favorite book ever

One of the effects of being a shameless DNF-er is how I don't really have least favorite books. Because they can't be my least fave if I drop them halfway through and go and happily read something else instead. Least favorite book (singular) ever is even worse- why on earth would I read a book I loathe that much? The only answer is "Buddy Reads" and even for that I have drawn lines I will Not Cross. And even if those lines were crossed, I feel uncomfortable rating that book as "the worst" because making me read something I don't like makes me very, very mad and that naturally spills over to my feelings about the actual book.

So I skimmed through Goodreads and randomly picked a book that made me mad enough that I remembered being mad to this day. This actually means the book had potential, because I tend to forget books which had no redeeming features whatsoever. But this is also the third draft of this answer so it's what you're getting. (There is actually book I dislike more than this one, but that's getting saved for the un-recommend question.)

Tangled by Emma Chase is an office romcom. And it would probably be pretty entertaining (my tastes they are so low) if (a) the author did not decide that swearing was an inherently funny action and used it to indicate idk- something positive about the male lead, (b) it weren't for the unquestioned gender essentialism - you know the thing, men are like this women are like that and god forbid anyone deviates even slightly from the norm, and (c) I didn't keep getting smacked in the face with constant workplace sexual harassment.

The harassment was bad enough to have my oblivious self feel mildly uncomfortable when I first read it. When I skimmed through it again to remember why I hated it so much it almost made me want to puke. If any guy thought about me the way the ML thought about the FL I would knee him in the balls. Also, I HATE it when romances end with a "grand gesture" that magically solves everything. Especially in this case. FL, you were so fucking bland that I don't remember a goddamned thing about you but you should have kneed him in the balls. For fuck's sake.

QUOTE: (slime. slime all over my face and my arms.)

Doe Eyes may be telling me no…but her body? Her body’s screaming, Yes, yes, fuck me on the bar. In the span of three minutes, she’s told me why she’s here, what she does for a living, and allowed me to fondle her hand. Those are not the actions of a woman who is not interested—those are the actions of a woman who does not want to be interested. And I can definitely work with that.

23. a book that is currently on your TBR

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3 notes - Posted July 7, 2022

1, 9 10 13 15 16 18 23 52 53 55 60 63 71 80 86 107 121 127 134 135 for ur ask meme

wheeeee~

okay so there's are enough of these questions that I'm gonna answer this in parts because otherwise (a) I'll never finish and (b) tumblr WILL end up earing my drafts and I wince just thinking about that. So here we go-

1. a book that is close to your heart

The Beginning by K.A. Applegate. Anyone who's spent some time on my tumblr knows about my obsession with this series. It drilled into my ear and took over all higher life form function way back when I was an impressionable pre-teen. And then after sometime, when I thought I'd found other things to obsess about, I found copies of the final arc and it decided to permanently take up residence in my brain.

The Beginning is the final installment of the Animorphs series, which famously feature kids turning into animals to fight brain stealing alien puppeteers. It's not a climax- it's a extended denouement, because the books have always been about how children people are affected by war as much as as it was about the actual war. Animorphs also ended on a very bittersweet note, something unthinkable to baby me who had never seen a story end this way before. It was a learning experience.

Quote:

"Jake, you can't . . ." She took a deep breath. "You can't equate the victim and the perpetrator."

"So as long as you're playing defense it's not possible to commit a war crime?" I asked. "That's pretty close to just saying that the winner makes the rules because it's the winner who writes the history."

She grabbed my arm and searched for my eyes, forcing me to look at her. "No, Jake, it isn't. There are a lot of close calls in history, lots of wars where the blame is evenly split between the sides. This isn't one of them. Before they came to Earth no human ever attacked a Yeerk. No human ever harmed a Yeerk. This one is clear: We are the victims. They made war on us."

"That's good," I said softly. "All of that is good. We have justification. We're the good guys."

Marco said, "That's right, Big Jake, we are."

I nodded. "That's good for the big picture. See, my problem is a little more personal."

Ax asked.

"Well, Ax-man, you're right, you did call my attention to the possibilities on the Pool ship. And when you did that I guess I should have thought, Well, Jake, it's a harsh, terrible thing to do, but you're justified because, after all, you're the victim here. But that's not what I thought. You know what I thought?"

Cassie released her grip on me. But Marco just took a step up close, right in my face.

"I know what you thought, Jake. You thought Die, you filthy worms. Feel the fear, Yeerks. Feel the pain. Feel the helplessness. You wanted them to suffer and the idea of them suffering and dying made you happy. You were thrilled. You were high."

Cassie winced. She looked away.

I said, "Yeah, Marco. That was about it: word for word."

9. your favourite book of 2020 2022

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3 notes - Posted July 4, 2022

Book Rec Ask Meme (Part 2 of 7)

13. your favorite romance novel

You should know by now that I don't actually have favorites. I have a list of things I like and how much I like them varies with time, emotions, circumstances, and also maybe the phases of the moon. But The Duke in Disguise by Cat Sabastian was the first book I thought of when I saw this question, so it's the answer by default.

A Duke in Disguise is a standalone (technically it's part of a series, but books in romance novels series are often functionally standalones with cameos) romance story about two childhood friends- a prickly left-leaning publisher trying to keep her business afloat and an illustrator (engraver, to be precise) who turns out to be the long-lost heir to a dukedom. It's filled with class rage and ideas about what independence means and wonderful friend and family characters. The heroine is bi and filled with rage goes to her ex-girlfriend when she wants to yell about stuff. It's great.

QUOTE:

How one was meant to feed all these people on a couple of mutton chops Verity did not know. Supper was supposed to serve four: herself, Nate, Ash, and Charlie. But Nate had come home with three friends he met at the pub, which would have been bad enough even if he hadn’t evidently also invited Amelia Allenby, the half-grown daughter of Verity’s friend. At half past seven, a carriage pulled up in front of the house and disgorged a girl in pearl earbobs and a white muslin frock, dressed as if she were going to dine with the great and good of the land, rather than pick at too few mutton chops and be an eyewitness to sedition. Amelia was seventeen and looked upon Nate with a degree of hero worship that nobody who brought three hungry radicals home to dinner deserved.

15. a book rec you really enjoyed

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4 notes - Posted July 6, 2022

1, 19, 27

1. a book that is close to your heart

The Curse of Chalion by Lois McMaster Bujold. I mean, I love almost everything this author writes but I'd only read her space opera series before this, and space opera was (at least back then) not as much my genre as Fantasy is.

It was also a very different type of fantasy from what I'd experienced. I'd mostly read grand sweeping fantasy epics before CoC, with a dash of Tamora Pierce to even things out. But I think this was the first time I'd seen adult fantasy which was less about world domination and more about people just trying to get by in the face of curses and life in general etc. Caz is a wonderful protagonist because he's so tired and so traumatized and he juxtaposes beautifully with Iselle (who is the /thematic/ protagonist) who's vibrant and a beacon of hope. The divinity-based magic system is wonderful. The way of breaking the curse is wonderfully clever. This book made me actually weep more than once. I just- //flails

It also made me be more active about searching for adult fantasy I was actually interested in, because till that point I really thought all we could have were chosen one quest narratives.

Quote:

“Any man can be kind when he is comfortable. I'd always thought kindness a trivial virtue, therefore. But when we were hungry, thirsty, sick, frightened, with our deaths shouting at us, in the heart of horror, you were still as unfailingly courteous as a gentleman at ease before his own hearth.”

19. a book that put you in a reading slump

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5 notes - Posted July 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

It just struck me how the MCU is milking the hell out of a nearly manufactured out of whole cloth mentor-mentee/dad-son relationship between a billionaire superhero and a socially disadvantaged kid superhero while the dc cinematic universe, which has multiple canon relationships like that, ignored them COMPLETELY in favor of more serial killer showcases.

7 notes - Posted April 14, 2022

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