#and I am pretty sure MS has never set foot here

[ok-sims]

most of the time I'm pretty content about where I live, but seeing quite some people on the timeline talking about seeing DT and MS on stage has me jealous

[the-bau-quinjet]

But with you, it’s different...

So, I’ve combined two of my great obsessions: Criminal Minds and Taylor Swift. Pretend the reader is Taylor Swift in the sense that she wrote and recorded the songs, but that’s it. Also, the songs are all out of order and not from the albums so just pretend that’s okay. I don’t reference the albums, but individual songs and yeah. It’s honestly kind of a mess, but also makes me happy. This is part 1! I have most of it written, so I should be able to post the other parts pretty soon. I think there will be 3 actual parts and then a short epilogue! Last thing, Spencer is a little out of character. I (try to) explain that later!!

Summary: Reader is a famous singer with a murderous stalker. Spencer has to go undercover to protect her. 

warnings: mentions of murder, anxious reader

Word Count: 7940

You weren’t expecting anything out of the ordinary to happen tonight. It was just the usual Saturday night. Honestly, you were looking forward to having a boring two weeks off. You absolutely loved touring and performing and seeing your fans, but it was going to be great to have some time just to write again. Writing music has always helped you de-stress and get your emotions out, and you were supposed to finally have a chance to do just that. However, the universe had different plans. Plans that involved the FBI.

This was your second night in DC. It was the first of some of the bigger cities on your tour where you were doing two shows, so you are even more exhausted than normal. You really only just started the US leg of your tour, but the two weeks off was well earned from the Europe, Asia, and South America legs.

 As you begin to perform the second to last song, you start to feel the familiar sadness you get when finishing a show. It’s almost as though the adrenaline rush from the excitement of so many screaming fans is wearing off and you can’t help but feel a bit sorry that the fun is coming to an end. After so many performances though, you’ve learned how to hide the emotions and give the audience your best fake smile. The last song is where you have some real fun, so just make it there.

 As you duck off stage to change for the final performance, you can’t help but notice the small group of people conversing, quite tensely, with your security team. They don’t look like the normal fans who would try to sneak backstage, too official. You make eye contact with one of them. He looks to be about your age, but you’ve never been great at guessing. There’s something about him that makes you want to find out exactly who he is right now, but you can’t. 

You’re left wondering about his identity as you run back onstage for the grand finale. You feel a genuine smile appearing as you feel the heat from the fireworks and listen to the happy cheers from the crowd. You’re last song goes off without a hitch, but you’re exhausted. There’s nothing you want more than to just shower and sleep, but there’s always a buzz about the cast and crew that prevents anyone from leaving right away.

 “Thank you for a great second night DC! Goodnight!” You shout into the mic as you duck back offstage to ride out the post show high. You are still chatting with some of the dancers you’ve become friends with when Carrie, the head of security, comes up with one of the men you saw arguing with her earlier.

 “Y/N? Can I talk to you for a minute?” You turn, surprised to see the stern man standing behind Carrie. “Yeah, sure.” You turn to excuse yourself from the dancers, wishing them a goodnight before turning back to Carrie.

 “We can go do your dressing room, that’s where the others are waiting.” Carrie says with a nervous smile on her face.

 “The others?” You ask confused, jogging to keep up with the brisk pace she has set for you and the stern man. “Who are we talking to?”

 “I’m sure you have a lot of questions. We will explain everything as soon as we meet up with the rest of the team.” The stern man spoke quietly, but with confidence as he followed behind you and Carrie. Before you could ask anything else, you were being ushered into your dressing room, coming face to face with the other two people you saw arguing with Carrie earlier. The first one you notice is a woman with jet black hair and fierce eyes. The other is the tall, lanky man you made eye contact with.

 You’re a little excited to get a closer look. He looks a little awkward at first glance, but you can tell he’s a sneaky sort of attractive underneath the perfectly placed tie and the comfy cardigan. Before you can get too caught up in how good looking these three strangers are, you turn to the stern one and ask “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” Your tone clearly indicates the confusion you’re feeling. 

 “Ms. L/N, my name is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. I am the Unit Chief for the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI.” You can feel your eyes go wide as he shows you a badge with his picture and title. Before you can respond, he begins talking again. “These are SSAs Emily Prentiss” the woman gives you a reassuring smile and slight wave, “and Dr. Spencer Reid.” The sneakily attractive one nods his head in your general direction.

 The woman just introduced as Emily chimes in “we are here because we believe there is a killer targeting fans of your music. We have been tracking murders for the past two weekends. The first was in Louisville, Kentucky, then Columbus, Ohio, and then two right here in D.C.”

 “I was just in Louisville… and Columbus.” You feel yourself beginning to get dizzy as you try to comprehend what the agents are telling you.

 “Yes, and now you’re in DC.” The boss man is talking again. “We made the connection this afternoon as you had two shows here in DC.” The room is starting to spin as you listen to the man talk. “After more digging, we found each victim had purchased a ticket to your show. Additionally, they all had social media accounts dedicated as fan pages to you.” Agent Hotchner continues speaking as you nod along, trying to comprehend how this was happening. You don’t even realize you are tuning him out as you begin to sway on your feet. You can see his mouth moving, and the growing look of concern on his face is the last thing you see before the world goes dark.

 --

 You can hear a faint beeping as you begin to wake up. For a moment, you are blissfully unaware of the murders before the memory of meeting the three agents comes back to you. You instantly sit up and look around, trying to figure out where you are. You can see a very muscular bald man through a window, talking to someone in scrubs.

 Scrubs. A nurse. You are in the hospital.

 Your heart rate begins to calm down before skyrocketing again when you hear “Ms. L/N?” from the other side of the room. Turning with wide eyes and a scared expression, you throw your arms up to defend yourself from the unknown voice.

 “Sorry! Sorry, uh- I didn’t mean to scare you! I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” Instantly you relax again at the familiar face. You drop your arms back to the bed, shifting into a more comfortable position before asking “Okay, Doctor. What’s wrong with me? Why am I in the hospital?”

He looks at you with a sheepish expression, rubbing the back of his neck before he admits, “Oh, I’m not that kind of doctor. I’ll go get a nurse or someone. Try to think back on what you remember before waking up here.” He shuffles out of the room as you try to replay the conversation with the other agents.

 Well, it wasn’t much of a conversation with them doing all of the talking, but still. The unknown man from outside your room window and the nurse he was talking to come into the room with Dr. Reid. The nurse begins checking your vitals as she asks you some questions.

 “Hi there. It’s good to see you up. How are you feeling?” She wears a small smile.

 “Oh, um, I feel fine. I think. I’m just confused about how I ended up here. I remember talking to the agents at the arena, but that’s it.” You close your eyes as you try to remember more, but nothing comes to you.

 “That was only about 45 minutes ago, dear.” The nurse’s kind voice helps settle you. “You fainted while the agents were talking to you. They brought you here. You should be good to leave in a few minutes as long as your vitals are good.”

 “Thank you.” You return her kind smile as she marks information on your chart before leaving the room.

 “Ms. L/N, this is SSA Derek Morgan.” The Doctor Agent is talking again.

 “Please, call me Y/N.” You rub your head, continuing to try to remember more about your condition. Before either man in the room can speak up, a new thought occurs to you. “If I fainted, why doesn’t my head hurt? The floor in my dressing room is not soft.” You look between the two men for an explanation.  

 The doctor shifts his weight from foot to foot a blush appearing on his face as Agent Morgan speaks up. “That is because Pretty Boy over here” he claps a hand onto the doctor’s shoulder “caught you before you hit the ground.” “Oh, um… Thank you.” You can feel the blush beginning to form as you think about his arms being around you.

 “It was no problem, really. Can we ask you a few questions?” He moves on quickly. “Oh sure thing Dr. Reid. Or Agent Reid. Agent Dr. Reid?” You can feel the blush growing as you ramble.

 “Just Sp-Spencer is fine.” He cuts you off before you can continue suggesting different honorifics. “What do you remember from what Agent Hotchner was telling you?”

 “He said someone was mur-murdering fans of me.” Tears spring to your eyes as you think about it. “That someone was killed in Kentucky and Ohio and then two people here in DC.” You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall.

 Get a hold of yourself.

 You feel a new weight on your hand before hearing Spencer begin talking again. “Take your time.” You open your eyes to see him patting your hand delicately. He moves back after you take a few deep, calming breaths.

 “I’m sorry. I just feel awful knowing people are dy-dying because of me. Is there anything I can do to help?” You choke on the words a bit, realizing the full gravity of the situation.

 “Do you recognize any of these people?” Agent Morgan pulls out photos of three women and one man, handing them to you to sift through. He seems to be staring at Spencer, but you just focus on the pictures. You can feel the tears building again as you realize who they are.

 “I do.” You take another breath before continuing. “I haven’t met them before, but they are all really active on different social sites. I try to talk to as many fans as I can ya know? They are why I am where I am. Is that why they were killed? Oh god. No no no no.” Your breathe increases in speed as you think about everything that is happening.

 “Hey, hey, hey, none of this is your fault.” Spencer is patting your hand again as he tries to calm you down. Just then, the nurse comes back with some paperwork for you to sign in order to leave.

 “You are free to go Ms. L/N. Just sign these forms and hand them in at the desk on your way out.” She exits the room swiftly.

 “Would you mind coming back to our office to finish talking?” Agent Morgan asks.

 “Of course not. Anything I can do to help.” You turn in the forms before following them to a black SUV. Spencer opens the door for you to get in the back before he slides in next to you. You don’t even have the brain power to consider why he isn’t sitting in the front. You just grab his hand and squeeze it, unable to get the thoughts out of your head that this was all your fault.  

 “This is not your fault. You had no idea what was happening, and now that you do you are trying to help.” Spencer looks at you reassuringly as he squeezes your hand right back. You simply nod back. You don’t trust yourself to speak without crying. You just need to calm down before you get to the office.

 About 15 minutes later you pull up to the FBI building that houses the BAU. They must’ve brought you to a hospital near Quantico. They lead you through security up to the fifth floor. You walk through a set of glass doors, passing a few desks before entering a conference room. “Do you need anything? Coffee, water?” Spencer asks as Agent Morgan leaves the room.

 “Oh, um, no I’m okay for now.” You stare at your hands as you go to sit down. “Actually, could I get a jacket or something?” You gesture to what you’re wearing as you ask. You haven’t had a chance to change yet, meaning you are wearing a black, sequined romper that is basically a leotard with how short it is. Perfect for performing, but not exactly FBI attire. “Of co-course! I’ll be right back.” He practically runs out of the room.

 A few minutes later, he pushes the door back open. “Here’s some clothes you can change into if you want. Or just a sweatshirt.” You look up from your position in the chair, rising to take the clothes.

 “Thank you.” You look from the clothes to him realizing you need to change, but are in a room full of windows in an unfamiliar building.

 He catches on a few seconds later, leading you out of the room. “The bathroom is this way!” He squeaks out as you both walk down a hallway outside the glass doors you came in. “I’ll wait here to show you back.” You smile as you brush past him, whispering thank you as you close the door.

 You instantly take off the romper, sliding on some FBI sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt that smells like vanilla and new books. The scent is oddly comforting. You would think a standard FBI sweatshirt would smell new, but this scent is calming your nerves. You fix your makeup as best you can before heading out of the bathroom. Spencer is a few feet away talking to a beautiful blonde woman. She looks effortlessly gorgeous. She smiles as she notices you, waving you to join them.

 “Ms. L/N, it’s lovely to meet you, although I do wish it was under better circumstances. I am SSA Jennifer Jureau, but you can call me JJ. The rest of the team is waiting for us to join them.” She smiles kindly, but you are frozen in place. You feel like a deer caught in the headlights.

 Spencer grabs your arm lightly, pulling you out of your trance. “It’s okay. Just breathe.” He whispers as the three of you start walking back toward the conference room you were in earlier.

 He lets your arm fall back to your side before guiding you back into the room behind JJ. You freeze again upon entering the room. You recognize Agents Hotchner, Prentiss, and Morgan, but are surprised by the other two faces. There is an older man with salt and pepper hair smiling kindly at you. He reminds you of your father. Then there is a very bubbly blonde, in a very colorful dress and matching glasses.

 They introduce themselves as SSA David Rossi and technical analyst Penelope Garcia. The unit chief begins to describe the case again, going slower this time given your earlier episode. “We believe the unsub is targeting fans of yours who he believes is unworthy of your attention. He worships you and views his victims as people who are not devoted enough to you.”

 You can’t decide how to respond, so you wait for another agent to continue. “Do you know of anyone who might be overly obsessed with you? Maybe they sent you letters that were a bit more personal than normal?” At this point, you decide you are done being controlled by this situation. What happened to those people is awful, but you can’t change it. You need to be strong to help prevent it from happening to anyone else.

 “I haven’t finished my fan letters from this week yet. I try to go through as many as possible, but there is only so much time in a day.” At this point you are pacing. Walking around has always helped you with thinking things over. “There is one letter that sticks out from three weeks ago. That was before the murd-” you stutter on the word. “Before anything happened though. Could that be relevant?” You ask, looking hopeful. If the agents are surprised by your change of attitude they don’t mention it.

 “It might be. What did it say?” Agent Hotchner asks, the same stern expression adorning his features.

 “I don’t remember all of it, but it looked like it was written on a typewriter, so it stood out. It said something about how they wondered if my hair smelled like peaches after I finished a show. I thought it was weird because my shampoo is peach scented, but how could they possibly know that? I figured I must have met them in passing, you know. I meet a lot of fans just walking around the different cities. Something just felt weird about this letter though. Like a bad feeling. I mean, my hair doesn’t really retain the scent of my shampoo all that much. So how could he know that unless he knew what shampoo I use? But actually, I use a personalized shampoo so I can change the scent every time I but it- it must’ve been a lucky guess, right? Maybe I just look like I would use peach scented shampoo” You feel like you are talking a mile a minute, but you can’t get yourself to stop. You practically fall back into your chair as you finish rambling about the letter, looking up to see unmistakable expressions of concern on the agents’ faces.

 “What? What does that mean? Oh god- How does he know my shampoo smells like peaches?” You look between all the agents as they seem to be communicating with just their eyes. You resort to taking calming breaths again. They’ll fill you in eventually, you need to breathe. You drop your head between your thighs as you push your chair away from the table. Breathe in for 7 seconds, hold for 7, and breathe out for 7. This always helps calm you down before a show.

 You choose to ignore the agents quietly talking to each other again as you focus on slowing your heart rate back to a normal pace.

 “Ms. L/N?” You look up exasperatedly, “Please, just call me Y/N.”

 “Then you can call me Penelope!” The woman has such a kindness to her that you can’t help but smile back at her.

 “What can I do for you Penelope?” She seems a bit surprised, but she responds in kind.

 “I just wanted to ask if you wanted some coffee. Or water or anything?” You smile at her kind gesture, rising from your seat.

 “Actually, some tea would be wonderful. But, please, let me come help you. These guys seem like they need to talk and it would probably be easier if I wasn’t in the room.” You smile as you walk out the door, leaving the agents slightly stunned at your observational skills in your distressed state.

 Penelope follows you out and leads you to what you assume is the break room. “We don’t really have much tea, but I know where the good doctor keeps his private collection.” She whispers conspiratorially as she searches through a small cabinet. “Aha! Here it is.” She presents you with a pretty impressive collection of teas. You opt for the simple peppermint. You have always found peppermint tea the most soothing.

 She hands you a mug before gesturing to the Keurig on the counter. You place the teabag in the cup, selecting the largest cup on the machine, and brewing hot water for your tea. The two of you don’t say anything while it steeps. Penelope speaks up when you move to sit down at the small table.

 “I just have to say, I am a huge fan of yours.” You can’t hide the smile that forms on your face. You have always loved meeting fans. They are just so sweet and you appreciate them beyond belief.

 “Thank you so much!” She seems a bit relieved at your response. “That’s honestly so nice to hear right now. I kind of feel like a mess.” You gesture to the oversized clothes you’ve got on.

 “Please, you look so gorgeous right now. It’s amazing. Your music is amazing too. I absolutely love Begin Again! It’s so romantic!” She gushes over the song.

 “Honestly, that one took me forever to write. I was in a pretty bad place after a bad breakup, convinced I would never love again. Dramatic, I know.” You roll your eyes at yourself. “But then I saw these two people in a café, and they just looked so happy. The idea of a new love forming so casually right in front of me was beautiful.” You smile thinking about the couple, wondering if they are still together.

 “Wow, so you can really right about anything?” She looks while asking the question.

 “Pretty much. I mean, they won’t all be good. It could be the tiniest moment or a huge thing in my life. Inspiration comes from everywhere. A lot of songs actually draw from multiple experiences, not just one thing. I could totally see myself writing a song about you.”

“No way! That would be insane.” You smile at her enthusiasm.

 “I’m serious! You just give of this energy that is so positive, it’s hard to remember ever being sad. I think it would be about how confident you are. Something like…” you trail off as you begin to hum, setting up your phone to record. “You’re the only one of you, baby that’s the fun of you. And I promise that nobody’s gonna love you like me!” You hum a few more bars before ending the recording.

 “That was insane. How do you do that?!” She has a wild kind of excitement in her eyes.

 “I don’t know. You just inspired me.” You grin at the shocked expression in her eyes.

 “Sing it again!” And you can’t help but give her what she wants.

 You hum a bit more of a melody that could work before jumping into the words you already said. You add a few more here and there, but nothing concrete. In your focus on singing, you don’t hear the door open behind you.

 “I’m the only one of me, baby that’s the fun of me. Oh oh oh. You’re the only one of you, baby that’s the fun of you. And I promise that you’ll never find another like me.” “I don’t doubt it.” You turn in shock to look at the person behind you, seeing none other than Spencer Reid in the doorway. You don’t notice the flush of embarrassment on his cheeks that you heard his comment, just like he doesn’t notice the matching expression on your face. Penelope though, she notices. And, she can’t wait to tell Derek.

 Spencer clears his throat before speaking again. “We’re ready for you to come back in if you’re up for it. We want to talk to you about a plan to keep you safe.”

 “Sure thing.” You grab your tea from the table before you and Penelope follow Spencer back to the conference room. You sitting cross-legged in your seat. You feel much calmer after chatting with Penelope. Song writing has always been cathartic for you, and it is reassuring that hasn’t changed.

The agents waste no time getting down to business. “We believe the unsub has broken into your tour bus. If the letter was from him, it would explain how he knows about the peach scent.” Agent Rossi starts.

 Agent Morgan continues, “It’s an easier target than a hotel room or your personal home since fewer people would be securing it.” You nod along with them. You are determined to stay strong through this.

 “We want to completely ensure your safety, so we think it best to send an agent to stay with you while we work on the case.” Agent Prentiss chimes in. You feel like you’re going to get whiplash looking between all their faces.

 “Since we haven’t ruled out people on the crew, we want this to remain as secret as possible. We will inform the head of security on your team, but other than that the agent will be undercover.” Agent Hotchner, stern as ever, appears to be studying your reaction.

 “Okay.” You sigh. “Okay, I can handle this. I’ll be fine. I’ll have an agent with me. Who’s going undercover? Do you have a cover story planned?” You look at Agent Hotchner with nervous eyes.

 “We wanted to plan the cover story with you to make it as believable as possible. What are you planning on doing for the next few weeks?” You consider what your plans consist of. Honestly, nothing but songwriting.

 “I plan on mostly working on songwriting. I usually go to cafes, parks, or anywhere really with people for inspiration. If I already have an idea, I’ll write from my hotel room or from home if I’m there. If any of you have any musical experience, then we could make up a cover story about a new writing partner. Nobody would really question it because I write with new people all the time.” You glance around the room to see if anyone is willing to take you up on your offer. Nobody says anything for a minute. They are communicating with looks again.

 Penelope chimes in “Reid knows how to play the piano!” You can’t help but latch on to the statement as you turn toward Spencer.

 “Really, that would be so helpful! I normally write to piano or guitar and then add any additional instrumental later in the studio. If you can play, then the story would look even more believable!” You are actually getting excited about this idea working out. You finally feel like you’ve helped them with something. They probably could’ve figured it out without you, but still.

 “Yes, I can play. I mean, it’s just mathematics if you think about it.” Spencer responds quietly, like his mind is somewhere else.

 “Reid, if you feel comfortable with it, that story sounds like great cover.” Reid nods at Agent Hotchner. “Great. You can go to your place and grab some clothes and anything else you’ll need.” He says to Spencer before turning his attention to you. You watch as Spencer walks out with the rest of the team before turning to meet Agent Hotchner’s eye. “It’s best if we stick to your plans as closely as possible. If the unsub is someone who works with you, he will likely notice if you start changing your behavior too much.” You nod in response, mentally going through everything you do from day to day.

 “Agent Reid will stay with you in your hotel room if you are comfortable with it. That is the safest arrangement since he will be close by if anything happens. We will also have agents tail you when you go out in public. We’ll have a rotation of agents in the rooms around yours each night to allow Reid to rest as well. He knows how to contact us, but we will program our numbers into your phone as well for backup. Do not hesitate to call any one of us if something feels even remotely wrong, no matter the time. Do you understand?”

 Again, you nod in response. It’s a lot of information to take in and honestly, you’re still thinking about sharing a hotel room with Spencer.

 “We will need to see the letter you mentioned earlier if you still have it. We would also like to go through the fan mail you currently have and any new mail that comes in. If you see anything else that feels off or seems suspicious, tell Reid or call one of us. If you remember anything else, tell Reid or call one of us.” He gives you a questioning glance to ensure you are following.

 “Basically, tell Reid everything. Got it.” You try to remain lighthearted even though Agent Hotchner’s serious expression hasn’t waned in the slightest.

 “It’s good to see you’ve got a good attitude about this. It’s hard to remain calm, but it will help limit any suspicion on the part of the unsub. We don’t want to escalate his plans. Do you have any questions for me?” He gives you a reassuring look as you contemplate everything he’s told you.

 “What does unsub mean?” you blurt out, surprising both of you. “Sorry, that was loud.” You cringe. “I just meant, why do you call the criminal, unsub?”

 You can see the faintest of smiles on his face as he replies, “Right, we can get pretty wrapped up in a case. It stands for unidentified subject. We try not to assign nicknames or anything to the perpetrators as it can affect their behavior.”

 “Right. Behavior.” You try to sound like you understand, but honestly this is so much different from all the detective shows you’ve seen. Apparently, Agent Hotchner notices and explains more.

 “We catch criminals by analyzing their behavior and trying to predict what they’ll do next.”

 “Like psychology? Nature vs. Nurture and mental disorders?” You ask, suddenly very curious about how this all works.

 “Yes, just like that, although we normally go a little deeper.”

 “So what can you tell about this unsub? That way I know what to look for.” Agent Hotchner seems pleased with this question.

 “The unsub is a man, likely 25-40. Age is the hardest thing to predict, so don’t follow that guideline too strictly. He likely suffers from antisocial personality disorder stemming from negligent parents and has always had trouble interacting with people. He is highly organized, which usually indicates high intelligence, but in this case could be due to the time he spends alone planning. His lack of social skills has resulted in him only working menial jobs. He won’t have worked anywhere for more than a few months before finding a new job since people find him odd or off-putting. He has always felt as though he deserves more because of his self presumed high intelligence. It is possible you met him in passing and any act of kindness toward him resulted in an obsession with you. He doesn’t have the courage to approach you, so he watches from afar or online. That’s how he found his earlier victims. Since you don’t have any shows in the next few weeks, his MO might change slightly. That’s why we want to be so cautious and make sure we can ensure your safety.” You sit quietly for a moment, trying to picture anyone who fits the description. You try to meet the people who work with you, but you certainly don’t know everyone. You were honestly hopeful the description would point you toward a suspect, but you’ve got nothing. “I can’t think of anyone like that, but now I know what to look out for. Thank you Agent Hotchner.” “Please, call me Hotch. Do you have any more questions?”

 “Just one, you said earlier that maintaining a sense of normalcy will prevent us from escalating his plans. What plans exactly?” You were nervous to ask this question, wondering if you really wanted to hear the answer.

 “We don’t know exactly. It is possible the unsub has been trying to work up the courage to talk to you, but since you won’t be doing shows, it is unclear how he would make contact. Reid and the other agents will be looking for anyone who appears to be in a lot of the same places you are. If you notice anyone more than one time in a day, don’t hesitate to-“

“Tell Reid or call one of you. I got it.” You smile at him again. “Thank you again.” He nods as you both exit the room. Spencer isn’t back from picking up clothes yet, so you aren’t sure exactly what to do. Penelope notices you searching the room and waves you over to her. She is talking with Agent Morgan.

 “Y/N! I was just telling my Chocolate Thunder about the song you started earlier. I just need to know, what does this fine specimen inspire you to write?” She sounds so excited you can’t bear to let her down. You study the man in front of you, searching for something to sing. You don’t know why, but there’s a certain sadness in his eye. He hides it well with his masculinity and the clear smirk on his face, but you know he’s been through some shit.

 You don’t want to kill the mood though, so you stick to something a little lighter than past pain. “Well, Pen, I have to say he looks like a heartbreaker.” This only encourages the smirk on his face. “The type to love ‘em and leave ‘em.” You have had a song in the back of your mind for a while so why not break it out now. Penelope shrieks as you start humming, drawing a crowd. Again, you set up your phone to record. The rest of the BAU agents crowd around Morgan’s desk as you start singing.

 “Magic, madness, heaven, sin, saw you there and I thought, oh my god, look at that face. You look like my next mistake.” That draws a few chuckles as you continue humming. More words pop into your head as you think about past relationships and what the media loves to say about celebrities. “Screaming, crying, perfect storms. I can make all the tables turn. Da dada da da, Keep you second guessing like, Oh my god, who is she. I get drunk on jealousy.” You hum some more, really getting into the flow of the song. “Cause darling I’m a nightmare, dressed like a daydream.” The group claps as you end the recording.

 “That was actually pretty impressive.” Agent Morgan smirks at you some more.

 “Well, to be honest I’ve had the melody in my notes for weeks, but I just couldn’t think of the right words.” Yet again, his smirk grows.

 “I guess I’m just that inspirational.” You choke back a laugh as you roll your eyes. You hadn’t realized the size of the crowd you had garnered. You can’t help but knock him down a few pegs.

 “You know what, I changed my mind. Agent Morgan’s song would be called I Knew You Were Trouble.” The entire group laughs at that one, but all the sudden you actually have another idea.

Before long, Penelope is asking you what songs you would write about the entire team.

 “Start with Hotch!”

 “Well, Hotch is so serious. So it’s kind of hard. His face just screams ‘I’ve been through it and dealt it out’. Maybe something like… your string of lights is still bright to see oh, who you are is not what you did, you’re still an innocent.” Even as you half sing it, the one line feels like it could lead somewhere big. It’s not quite right, but it’s a start.

 “That’s so cool. Do me next! And please, just call me Emily.” You nod at her as you think back over your previous interactions.

 “Alright, don’t get mad but something just popped into my head and I can’t un-hear it. They say I did something bad, then why’s it feel so good. Most fun I ever had, and I’d do it over and over and over again if I could.” The smile on her face told you everything you needed to know, but so did JJ.

 “You absolutely nailed it. That is Emily to a tee.” JJ chimed in. “I’m kind of scared to see what you can come up with for me!” Your head is swimming with lyrics and melodies, but it has been so long since you’ve had this much fun writing music with a group of people. It’s become such a solo activity for you, but these people just have so many stories to tell.

 “Okay, let me think.” You pause as you observe JJ. You can tell that she is such a sweetheart from the few hours you’ve known her, but you know you would be intimidated if you went to high school with her. “Sorry to be blunt but, you’re so gorgeous, I can’t say anything to your face. Cause look at your face.”

 “Why thank you!” JJ smiles as you defend the lyric choice.

 “I know you are so sweet and I of course don’t mean to say you are just a pretty face, but you really do have a pretty face.” The group chuckles again and nods in agreement. “Oh, wait! I’ve got another one. You took a Polaroid of us, then discovered, the rest of the world was black and white. But we were in screaming color.” That one came out of nowhere, but it felt right.

 “Beautiful. Okay, okay! Rossi’s turn!” Penelope says right as the man walks out of his office.

 “My turn for what?” He looks skeptical of the group, but in a loving way.

 “Y/N is coming up with song ideas for everyone! She just did Morgan, Hotch, Emily, and JJ! She did mine earlier. So it’s your turn!”

 “Well then by all means, be my guest.” You close your eyes as you think through the words swimming in your head.

 “While, Rossi, you have a kind aura. You seem like a parent to this group of rowdy children. Reminds me of my dad.” Again, the group laughs. You begin humming, lightly patting the desk in front of you as you think back on memories of your own parents. “I don’t know why all the trees change in the fall, but I know you’re not scared of anything at all. Don’t know if Snow White’s house is near or far away, but I know I had the best day with you today.” This tune was softer than the rest, more emotional. Everyone stops laughing as they listen to the soft melody you created.

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to kill the mood.” You feel slightly awkward with the new found silence.

 “Please, bella, that was beautiful. You really know how to read people.” Rossi hugs you as you blush, thanking him for the compliment.

 “That only leaves the resident genius. What would you write about Reid?” JJ poses the question and suddenly all eyes are on you. In all the commotion with the other songs, you didn’t notice Spencer exit the elevator. He walked in soon enough to hear the question. Deciding not to interrupt the conversation, he hangs back to listen to your answer.

 You can feel the blush heating up your face, subconsciously hugging the sweatshirt he gave you to wear earlier. After all the short melodies and lyrics you’ve come up with, you are way too tired to put your feelings toward Spencer into words.

 “I’ll be honest, it’s been in my head all night.” You begin to hum, knowing this would be a song about how you felt when you first saw him backstage, to when you spoke to him in the hospital room and all the little moments since then. “Your eyes whispered have we met…” you fill in for lyrics you’ve yet to write by humming. “All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you.”

 “That was beautiful.” Spencer says from behind you. You jump in surprise, nearly falling out of your chair. You didn’t even realize he was in the room.

 He looks sheepish as he apologizes for scaring you. “Are you ready to go?” He asks, reaching out a hand to help you up. The rest of the profilers share a knowing look as you rise from your seated position. They all wish you a goodnight as you and Spencer enter the elevator to head to your hotel. The ride to the parking garage is quiet. You keep humming that same melody, looking for the right words to fill in the blanks.

 Spencer leads you to another black SUV opening the passenger side door for you to get in the car. He tosses his bag in the back before getting in and starting the drive.

 “Penelope said it was my turn, did you do songs for everyone?” Spencer beaks the silence. You turn in your seat to look at him before responding.

 “Kind of. Mostly just ideas of songs. Morgan’s was the most put together, only because it was a song I already started. I recorded the whole thing though. That way I won’t forget any ideas. I can play it for you when we actually start to write some music!” You are honestly surprised by the range of ideas you have.

 “Wh-what? You actually want me to help you write songs? I th-though that was just a cover.” All of the sudden Spencer seems nervous and shy. You put the ideas swimming through your head on pause so you can devote all your attention to him.

 “Spencer, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to come up with any profound lyrics or brand new chord progressions. But, since we are going to be spending a lot of time together, you do have to talk to me. Otherwise it would just be weird.” You try to lighten the mood. You can tell by the way he relaxed his shoulders it worked a little. He nods in agreement as he parks the SUV in the garage dedicated to the hotel you are staying in. You take the elevator straight up to the 11th floor. It’s honestly reassuring to be able to lead him somewhere after everything that happened in the past few hours.

 You dig around in your bag- that somehow followed you on your journey from the arena to the hospital to the FBI building and now back to your hotel- to find the room key. No matter what you try, you can’t seem to slide the key card into the slot in the right way. Every time you try, the little light glows red before beeping indicating the door is still locked. After the fifth try, you are about ready to scream.  

 Suddenly, you can feel the heat from Spencer’s body as he slides up behind you to take the room key. He slides the card into the door, wiggles it around, and then slides it back out. To your surprise, the light glows green and the door unlocks. You must be exhausted to be this shocked at the fact he opened the door. You can’t even seem to force your feet to move. You just stand there like a fool, mouth agape.

 “Why?” Spencer turns to look at you with a confused expression. “Why couldn’t I… How did you…?” You just point to the door. He places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the room. He places his bag just inside the door before he turns around to close the door and lock the deadbolt.

 Even after he led you into the room, you turned around so you could keep staring at the door. You don’t even realize you started crying. Spencer guides you to the bed and tucks you into the blankets. You know that you are going to wake up in an hour because you never sleep in pants, but you just don’t have the energy to fight him on it. He turns off the lamp, but before he walks away, you grab his arm.

 “Can you stay?” You have never heard yourself sound so frail. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the tears to stop. Spencer looks conflicted, but ultimately sits down next to you, his back against the headboard. You lay next to him in the dark, not quite touching. Once your breathe calms enough that you can talk without bursting into tears, you ask “how do you do it?”

 “Do what?” You smile at the sound of genuine concern in his voice.

 “How do you deal with this kind of stuff all the time? I feel like I’m falling apart. I want to be strong about it, so I can help. But then all of the sudden I can’t keep it in anymore. I just… how do you make it seem so easy?” You feel sniffly again, but you try to focus on your breathing.

 “It’s not easy. I hope it never becomes easy. It’s gotten easier, of course, but the minute I stop feeling everything is the moment I let them win. To feel pain in situations like this is human. Somebody wise once told me our best defense is our ability to empathize. It’s a completely natural reaction to experiencing something so traumatic. 70% of adults in the U.S. have experienced some type of traumatic event at least once in their lives. That's 223.4 million people. It would be...” He trailed off.

 “It would be what?” You angled your head up to look at him even though you couldn’t see him in the dark.

 “Oh, it’s nothing. I tend to ramble. I’m sorry.” He sounded so dejected, you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching for his hand. You had to shift on the bed a bit to reach his arm, so you ended up leaning your cheek against his thigh, tossing your arm over his lap in a sort of make shift hug.

 “I like it. It’s calming… and informative.” You couldn’t help but smile into his leg. “People who complain are just jealous.” That actually makes him laugh, but it doesn’t sound like a happy kind of laugh. More like a self-deprecating one. “I’m serious. You are clearly smarter than everyone else is, and you are sneaky attractive. There is a lot to be jealous about.” You dig deeper into his lap as you squeeze his hand in yours. The last thing you remember before falling asleep is the feeling of Spencer running his free hand through your hair.

--

You wake up slowly, eyes adjusting to the dark. You can just make out the numbers on the bedside clock to be 4:37. You must have fallen asleep talking to Spencer. Your head was still resting on his lap, his hand in your hair. You untangle yourself from the sheets to rid yourself of the extra layers that woke you up. It takes a few minutes of digging around in the dark to find one of the t-shirts you normally sleep in. In that amount of time, Spencer, still sleeping, rearranged himself to be laying on the bed rather than leaning against the headboard. You stopped for a minute to observe his sleeping form. He looks so at peace compared to the furrow of his brow and the glint in his eye that normally mean he’s thinking too hard.

 As soon as you lay back down in the bed, Spencer gravitates toward you. Before long, your head is resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around you. You breathe in the scent of vanilla and new books; the rhythmic pattern of his chest rising and falling lulls you back to sleep.

Part 2

tag list:

@mac99martin

[spicy-dunkaroo]

Stuck by Your Side (Part 1)

♫Now Playing: “Stuck by Your Side (Part 1)” by Spicy Dunkaroo…♪

❀Word Count: 2.5k

❀Rating: PG 13, 18+, Minors Do Not Interact (please)

❀Genre: Mythology AU!, Kelpie! Tamaki Amajiki, a pinch of Angst, very Fluffy, Maybe Smut (Still not sure yet)

❀Summary: Due to your job, you’re forced to visit a beautiful city in Scotland in order to get some reconnaissance on the locals. While on this trip, you grab a drink with a coworker and return home where you begin to notice strange things happen.

❀Warning(s): Cursing, Mentions of Alcohol use (Characters are aged up), and Mentions of Depression

❀Author's Note: Hello everyone!! This will be my first collaboration with the BNHarem server (Of hopefully many more). I hope that if you enjoy this story that you also go ahead and check out the other talented artists/writers that participated in this server collab here. I am beyond grateful to be working with so many amazing writers and artists that have helped me and inspired me to start writing!! I would also like to ask that if there are any warnings I might have missed, please do let me know. The last thing I want to do is have anyone read my story and get triggered because I didn’t properly put the warnings here.

Without further adieu, I hope you enjoy :)

☟❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀☟

Birds singing, leaves crunching, and the wind singing in your ears was all you could hear as the tour guide went on with their one-sided conversation of tour around Inverness, Scotland. If it weren’t for your worrisome supervisor, you’d be in the cute little cottage that you rented for the next few weeks, probably playing on your switch or watching Tigtog videos for hours on end. But noooo, they mandated that everyone had to go on this hour-long tour of the city to “get a nice perspective of the city” or whatever the hell they were rambling on about.

Each person was assigned a partner for the tours so they didn’t have to worry about anyone getting abducted or ‘lost’. Knowing better, you visibly rolled your eyes as your partner looked around like a kid in a candy store. Apparently the woman was from the marketing department as well, her name seeming to leave your memory as you squinted in her direction.

“You forgot my name again, didn’t you?”

“Pfft- no- no way!”

“Yea? Then what is it?”

“Uh, erm...It- it starts with a H, I know that!!”

“It’s Hoshi, or if you’d like to continue with formalities, Ms. Tenmei.”

Hanging your head in shame you look away. Getting lost in your thoughts once more, Hoshi taps on your shoulder.

“Hey, no worries! I’m pretty bad with names myself. How’s camera duty going?”

Saying this, the woman grabs the camera from your grasp, turning it back on to see the pictures you had taken thus far. Whistling, Hoshi looks back at you, noticing the lack of enthusiasm that was painted across your face.

“I know this tour is the last thing either of us want to do, but the quicker you get all those pictures for the portfolio, the quicker we can get out of here and grab a drink. It’ll be my treat if you can get all of them before the end of the tour.”

Nodding your head, you grab the camera back from her, beginning to focus it on a nice view of the lake from the bridge the two of you were standing on. Before you can snap the shot, the tour-guide’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts as he begins to speak about a more interesting topic.

“It’s said that this lake has a kelpie spirit living within its waters. Although, that can be said about any lake that’s big enough to swim in.”

As most tourists begin to talk amongst themselves, you grip onto the expensive camera once more, hoping to find that perfect shot you had before the man’s shrilling voice had interrupted your train of thought.

“Mommy, what’s a kelpie?”

As the little boy spoke, you took the chance to snap the shot as a bird flew on the lake's surface, leaving a black blur on the perfect shot!

‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’

The tour guide you grew to despise butted into the pair’s conversation to answer the boys question.

“That’s a good question kiddo! It’s said that the origins of the Kelpie were originally told as warnings to women and children alike to be alert at all times when not around their loved ones. Despite this, you can ask any local in the area and most could tell you their story of encountering the supposed myth. I suppose we’ll never know till we see one for ourselves. Though, if you’re unlucky enough to encounter such a myth, there’s the chance that you won’t live to tell the tale...”

The boy trembled as he gripped his mother’s dress tighter in his clutch. Your partner begins to scoot closer to you as she whispers into your ear.

“Psst! Hey, what do you think about those ‘kelpie’ hm?”

“It sounds like some sort of folk-lore they tell all the tourists here.”

“Oh c’mon now, you’re no fun! I’d like to think they might not be as brutal as this guy says.”

Scoffing, you shake your partner’s hand from your shoulder as you look into the camera’s lens once more to take another picture.

‘I’m sure it’s all bullshit. There’s no such thing as a shape-shifting kel-‘

Thinking this, you suddenly feel your body begin to fall forward as the bridge railing suddenly let out from beneath you. Before you realize it, you open your eyes to see the water's surface only a mere foot or two from your own face, the camera hanging by your neck and grazing the lake, your body beginning to be pulled back to its upright position.

Turning around to thank whoever it was that just saved you from having to pay for the company camera, you look to see nobody behind you. Nobody seemed to even be around you as you see Hoshi following behind the group of tourists, leaving you in the dust. You begin to chase after the group as you shake off the entire encounter.

Shuffling your bag off of your shoulder you threw it into the nearby chair, slumping into the couch that was adjacent to the chair. You began to hum to yourself as you felt the effects of the beer contest you had with Hoshi who you now knew was your supervisor. Thinking to yourself you remember losing that contest the two of you set up.

‘It was nice of her to pay for us and to bring me back home even though I lost. I should thank her tomorrow and try to pay her back if I can.’

Suddenly feeling the effects of the liquid courage, you stood up a bit too quickly, reaching your hand out to the couch you were just laying on. Not sure what to do, you reached for your phone to scroll through Tigtog, that was until you began to hear something strange. From what you could tell, it sounded like a voice, though you weren’t sure if it was male or female. Curiosity began to take the lead as you stood upright once more. Looking around, you began to walk around the cottage, seeing if there was anything on that could be making that noise. Eventually you found yourself outside in what looked to be the backyard of your little cottage, swaying side to side as you tried to listen for the voice once more.

“Y/N? Are- are you there?”

Under normal circumstances, after hearing an unknown males voice you’d already be locking the backdoor behind you after racing to that door. Tonight, however, was not the case as you yelled back the best you could of a response.

“yYeaa! Wwwhooo- whoo arre yOU?”

After saying this, you suddenly began to burp, probably due to the alcohol. Despite everything you had experienced thus far, for some reason your fit of burps could not be funner to you at that very moment as the voice spoke once more.

“T-That’s not important r-right now. I just wanted to make sure you made it back home safe.”

The liquid courage that coursed through your veins decided that you wanted to find out more about this stranger and began to walk into the forest. You began to sway as you attempted to find them, calling out to them in hopes of convincing them to stay and hang out.

“OoooOh c’mON now!! Don’t be liiiike that! Wh-wherrrreeee are ya? Le-le-let’s hanggg ouT for a bit! I-I *hic* think there’s cards in the liv-livingg roooom~! We- we can play a gggame of poKER and- and see what’s in the fridge. Man, now I’m hungryyy!”

Despite your lack of sobriety at the moment, you began to hear a few leaves crunch nearby. It appeared that for some reason or another, what you lacked in logic you seemed to gain in your basic senses. This theory proved true as you sniffed the air, you noticed that there was a lake nearby.

‘Since when the hell did I know what a river smelled like?’

Before you can continue on with your train of thought, the stranger responds once more. They seemed a bit panicked as you heard a twig snap, followed by more leaves crunching beneath their feet you suspected.

“D-D-Don’t come any closer! Y-You should go back h-home, you’re not t-thinking rationally.”

Not wanting to take no for an answer, you continue to walk to the source of the sound, hearing what sounded like a cascading river growing louder. Looking through the trees, you noticed a few yards away the river you had just heard. You speak up once more as you begin to walk toward the river.

“I-I don’t want to be alone r-right now… It-it’s stupid I know, I just...I’d just like to talk, just for a little bit. Would that be okay?”

Your vision began to blur as you rushed to the river's edge. It didn’t matter now if the stranger responded or not, your world began to crash down around you as you looked at the reflection on the water's edge. Sitting on your knees, small whimpers escaped your lips out as you covered your face with your hands. Despite the literal lack of sight, your emotions consumed you as it felt that everything around you was losing the light that once shone in your hopeful eyes.

At this point, you couldn’t hear any signs of life as you gripped harder at your face, only the sound of your quiet cries for help being all that echoed through that hollow forest. Assuming the worst, you began to move your hands from your face, dropping them by your side once more as you looked at your reflection once again.

“Y-You said you wanted to talk? T-That’d be fine, just- just promise you won’t cry anymore?”

There's a beat of silence, it seemed that not even the wind could speak as your body froze. Sure, you could convince yourself that you were just hearing things, that you were just acting aloof because you were feeling lonely. If you could get yourself on the couch, you could wake up and even tell yourself that the whole experience was just a really surreal dream you had. What you couldn’t convince yourself was the half naked man that appeared to be standing a few feet behind you, his voice matching his lips as you watched them move.

‘Maybe- maybe I’m just seeing things? That-that has to be right, right?! But alcohol doesn’t cause hallucinations and I’m positive that none of my drinks were spiked. So- so...Who the hell is this!?!’

“Are- are you okay Y/N?”

Your body grew stiff as you heard your name roll off of his tongue. If you weren’t getting clearheaded before, you definitely were cold sober now. Those shy indigo eyes that seemed to stare back at your own off of the river's surface as they brought you back to your senses.

‘There is a strange, half-naked man, who somehow knows you by your name, staring at you- talking to you! He doesn’t seem very intimidating, but then again he is a stranger!! In the best case scenario, he could just be a nice guy who found someone in need. Worst case, he’s a psycho that found their next victim! I can’t keep my back turned like this, I have to do something and get the hell out of this!’

Taking a shallow breath in, you swiftly turn your entire body around, facing the stranger that now made your body shiver in fear as you looked up at him. Despite the appearance of the situation, the man seemed to be intimidated by you as he looked away.

‘He doesn’t really seem like he wants to hurt me. If anything, he’s scared of me? Maybe I can intimidate him to leave me alone? Though, I don’t think I could pull it off seeing as I’m still a bit drunk…’

“Y-Y/N?”

Looking back at the man, you notice he begins to reach his hand out toward you, slowly beginning to walk toward your crouched form. Worried for the worst, you scoot away as you respond.

“H-HEY!! D-Don’t come any c-closer! If-If you don’t I-I’ll- ACK!”

Speaking this, you only now notice that there didn’t seem to be any more ground beneath you as you felt your body begin to fall into the river.

“Y/N!”

Before you can process everything that’s happening, you close your eyes in anticipation for the cold water that was bound to drown you. The stranger grabs your wrist, holding your body up above the river, your body mere inches from being submerged in the cold water. Noticing the lack of impact, you flutter your eyes open as you look back at the man before you. Shocked, the man looks down at where he grabbed your wrists. Only now do you notice a purple hue that surrounded both your arms.

“What- what is this?!”

At a loss for words, the man can only look back between your face and where he held your wrist. Confused and scared, you rip your arm from his grip as you stand yourself back up. As you stare at the man, you look around, befuddled by whatever the hell had just happened.

While a part of you would love to ask what just happened, the more logical side of you knew that none of this was worth hanging around to find out. Dusting yourself off, the man speaks up once more as he looks away in what seemed to be guilt.

“Y-Y/N, I-I’m so so-sorry!! I-I didn’t mean to t-touch you- What have I done?!”

Not wanting to wait any longer, you began to shuffle around the man, holding your hands up in surrender as you attempted to empathize with the man. Although, you weren’t sure why he was so worried since he didn’t seem to do anything besides whatever that purple glow was moments before.

“Hey, hey! We don’t have to speak about any of this. I’ll go back and after that we won’t have to ever see each other ever again, okay?”

“Y/N, i-it’s not that simpl- h-Hey, WAIT!!”

Before he had a chance to explain, you sprinted back to your cute rental cottage that you were now wishing you never left. Looking back, you notice the man just stood there as you were almost home.

Suddenly, your body stopped moving. What was even stranger, your body seemed to freeze mid-sprint. Looking around, you noticed that somehow your head was able to move but your arms were stiff as you attempted to force your body to run once more. Just as you were about to give up, your legs moved once more, wobbling as they felt gravity work once more. Not taking any chances, you began to dash once more. Not a second later, your body rolled forward from some sort of large and heavy impact. After your body finished rolling forward, you noticed that you were sitting in the backyard of the cottage, the man sitting on his head as his body laid against the door.

“W-Who or-or What are you?”

The man sighs as he flutters his eyes open, rubbing his head as he looks up at you.

“M-My name’s T-Tamaki Amajiki, and- and I’m a kelpie…”

~End of Part 1~

[cinnoasch]

Cecilia [Albedo x Reader]

A/N: I have a definite soft spot for Albedo and he’s never leaving my team, what a pretty boy!

Word Count: 1246

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes glance over the paperwork in front of you, reading commission after commission. You always knew that the people of Mondstadt relied on Acting Grand Master Jean to help with their commissions but, after reading some of them, you realized just how ridiculous some of them were.

“I know Acting Grand Master Jean only wants to help the people of Mondstadt, but she really needs to put her foot down on some of these commissions...” You mumble quietly.

Your gaze lands on the clock on the wall. It was already 5:00 PM and here you were, still lazing around the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. Usually you would have done with the commissions by now, but today you just weren’t feeling it. You needed something else to do. 

The book lying underneath your folder of commissions catches your eyes and you slide the folder off of the book. This was one of Albedo’s alchemy books that you borrowed. Without his permission, of course. When you first saw Albedo make a flower appear out of thin air, you knew alchemy had piqued your interest. However seeing as he was always busy with his experiments, you felt as if he wouldn’t have time to teach you alchemy. So the next best thing was to teach yourself. It was hard at first, but you got better at it every time and eventually you were able to procure small things out of thin air. You were no where close near Albedo or Sucrose’s level of alchemy but you felt accomplished nonetheless.

Suddenly a quiet knock echoed through the room and you slide the book back under the commissions folder and flip the folder open. You sit up in your chair, hoping it was not Jean who walked through the door. 

“Come in.”

The door swings open to reveal Sucrose holding a package.

“Hey, Sucrose. What brings you over here?”

“Oh, um... I was wondering if I could ask for a favor, Mr./Ms. Y/N. Are you done with your commissions for the day?”

“Um, yes. I am.” You say closing the folder in front of you. “What can I do for you?”

“Have you seen Mr. Albedo by any chance?”

“Albedo? Oh, that must be a package for him, right? You want me to look for him?”

Sucrose nods.��“If you don’t mind please. I’ve checked everywhere I could possibly think of in Monstadt. I would go out and search near Dragonspine but I’m supposed to be taking care of the alchemy stand for Timaeus.”

“I see. Well I’ll start looking for him. Hopefully my search won’t extend to Dragonspine.” You say standing up from the desk. You walk over to Sucrose and take the package from her hands. “I’ll report back to you if I find him.”

“Thank you, Mr./Ms. Y/N. Speaking of which, how has your self-taught alchemy lessons been going?”

“O-oh, you knew about that huh?”

“Your folder of commissions does not exactly cover the book. In fact that package is Mr. Albedo’s new order of that exact book. I am sure if you expressed your interest in alchemy, Mr. Albedo would most certainly not mind teaching you!”

“I’m not sure about that Sucrose... after all I did steal...borrow his books without his permission.”

“Nonsense! Please just ask him Mr./Ms. Y/N. It’s always a pleasure to see someone express an interest in alchemy and if I can help you expand that interest, I will do so in any way possible.”

You smile at Sucrose. “Alright, alright. I’ll ask him since you keep insisting. Also, Sucrose, please just call me Y/N. We’re the same age after all.”

Sucrose shakes her head and begins pushing you out the door, “I respect you Mr./Ms. Y/N, so I must treat you with respect. Now get going!”

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

You let out a sigh, putting your sword away after taking care of some hilichurls and pick the box back up from the ground.

You were looking around Starsnatch Cliff, thinking that Albedo might be sketching around here somewhere. You recalled that he mentioned once that he liked going to Starsnatch Cliff often to clear his thoughts after a long day.

Soon you come across Albedo sitting on a log, he was twirling a cecilia in between his fingers. 

“Albedo?” You call out as you walk up towards him.

He turns his head, a small smile appears when he sees the box in your hands, “You didn’t have to come all this way to deliver that.”

“Sucrose wanted to get it to you as soon as possible, so I couldn’t deny her request.”

“Ah, that’s right. She’s watching the store for Timaeus. I hope you didn’t spend long looking for me.”

You shake your head, setting the box down next to Albedo’s feet. “I already knew you were here. I remembered you mentioned something about Starsnatch being your go-to place to relax.”

Albedo gestures for you to take a seat next to him and as you do, he says, “Oh, you remembered that? It was just an insignificant detail about myself.”

“I wouldn’t consider it insignificant. What if we needed you but you were nowhere to be found?

“I suppose I see what you mean.”

Albedo looks down at the flower in his hand, examining it carefully, twirling it around.

“Did you know they say cecilias are the loneliest flowers?”

You look at Albedo in surprise.

“I’ve seen them in small groups whenever I come up here, yet even in groups, I could still sense their loneliness. Why is it that even when we’re around people, we can still feel so alone in this world?”

You were speechless. Albedo was never one to show his emotions outright. He always kept them tucked inside. Yet here he was, telling you his thoughts, even if he didn’t know it himself.

“That may be the case, but who says we can’t feel lonely together?”

Albedo looks at you as you look forward, gazing at Mondstadt below. “Loneliness is normal, don’t you think? No one shows it because they don’t want to worry people, but I think we all feel that way sometimes. Even now.”

Albedo chuckles, “Once again, you prove a point Y/N. It’s not a bad feeling; feeling lonely together. I guess there’s still much more I can learn from my peers.”

“See what good it does when you’re not locked inside your laboratory?”

“Says the one who locked themselves in their office after stealing my alchemy books.”

Shocked, you look at Albedo, a smug smirk showing on his face. “You knew about that?”

“I knew books were missing. I just happened to catch you in the act one day.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“I wanted to see if you would confess. Turns out my hypothesis was wrong.”

You turn your head away, embarrassed. “I bet I looked pretty stupid, huh?”

“Stupid? No. Silly? Yes. If you wanted to learn alchemy, you could have asked.”

“And take you away from your work? No thank you.”

Albedo smiles, mumbling quietly, “I don’t mind if it’s you after all.” He stands up holding his hand out to you, “Let’s head back, shall we?”

You pick up the box next to you, tucking it under your arm before grabbing Albedo’s hand, “Where to?”

“The laboratory, you want to become proficient in alchemy, don’t you? I’ll teach you all I know.”

You only give a little nod as Albedo pulls you along down Starsnatch Cliff. Commissions could wait another day.

[interstellarflowers]

Professor Parker Ch. 1| Professor, Peter Parker x Student, Reader

a/n this fic doesn’t follow the marvel cinematic universe but assume that peter has been what he’s been through with the exception that tony lived, and bruce is still bruce, sorry but i just can't deal with endgame hulk/bruce rn emotionally or mentally. im sorry nat is still dead but dw i'll actually treat it with respect unlike endgame like goddamn where was her funeral, am i right? the stages of grief thing they did was interesting though. im sorry i digress, this is set in nyc (because heyo im a new yorka) and the avengers/stark tower is still a thing, peter is fucking traumatized and has turned kind of cold as a result. this fic may contain a smut chapter in the future? not sure yet, where this fic goes depends on the feedback, thanks for reading also sorry im not the proudest of this first chapter so ill probably edit it but promise itll only improve from here just not in the best mental state rn

University life wasn’t exactly everything that you imagined it to be. There was hardly time to do anything that people claimed was good about coming to university. The parties, the epic heartbreaks, and romances, they were just nowhere to be seen. In fact, there was nothing particularly extravagant about your experience thus far. You went to class, studied, and went to your internship. Your internship was probably the most exciting thing about your life at the moment, you were lucky to be accepted into the Stark Industries student internship, the company paid college tuition and only required around twenty hours of lab work a week, you couldn’t complain. Of course, the exciting part of the whole ordeal was the name attached to it, “Stark,” not that you had ever met him, but it was nice to have a unique feature like that in such an impressive student body.

So here you were on the first day of your third year of university. You lived off-campus, about a five-minute walk from the Stark Tower, but a twenty-minute subway ride to your campus. However, having an 882 square foot space to yourself was really nothing you could truly complain about despite the distance. The studio apartment being yet another benefit reaped from Stark Industries. Thank you Tony Stark, the unseen benevolent God in your life.

Typically you would start your mornings off quietly and in no rush, a shower, a cup of coffee, maybe some studying before heading off to your campus, but your phone had other plans for you today. Instead of your alarm going off like it was supposed to, you were woken up by the sound of a particularly loud car horn, and oh how grateful you were for that. As soon as you were jolted awake you shifted to grab your phone and turned it over to see an alarming 8:40am glaring back at you.

Holy shit. You were late.

You scrambled out of bed nearly face planting several times in your hurry to get dressed and only barely ran out the door with everything you needed at 8:47am.

By the time you managed to get to the subway and clamor onto the right train it was already 8:55am. Out of breath and panicking, you considered your options. You could explain after class, you could shoot an email, there were a plethora of things you could do but none of them seemed to justify being late as a third-year to a level 500 class. You had googled all of your professors while registering for classes as was common practice. You couldn’t find a RateMyProfessor on Professor...Parker? You were pretty sure it was Professor Parker, but you do remember seeing on the STEM department page that he was currently a Ph.D. student, so you could only hope that as a fellow student he would be at least a little understanding towards your lateness.

You stood outside of the lecture hall huffing and trying to catch your breath at 9:32am, psyching yourself up, you pushed open the door to the class and attempted to go unnoticed. The class was in a lecture hall despite being only composed of around thirty students, so if you were lucky maybe nobody would even see-

“Ms.(y/l/n), I presume?.” Shit.

“Professor Parker?” Shit.

“You are aware that class starts at 9am, and not 9:30am, would this be correct Ms.(y/l/n)?”

“Yes, Professor, it’s just that I had an emergency.” The lying route. Not exactly the highlight of your academic career.

“I regret to inform you that I only take valid excuses Ms.(y/l/n), please take a seat, and next time, don’t bother disrupting class halfway through the lesson.” Fuck. You mustered a quiet “ok,” and a small nod before escorting yourself to the back of the room, thirty-something eyes following you until you sat down.

You couldn’t focus for the rest of the class, it was just too embarrassing, time moved forward but you couldn’t help but be stuck on what had just happened. For the first ten minutes after sitting down you felt like dropping out of the whole class out of sheer fucking humiliation. This was of course before you reminded yourself that this class was a requirement to graduate in your field of study. You quietly bargained with yourself before sighing quietly and settling on the conclusion that Professor Parker was just a dick. A dick who certainly didn’t deserve the satisfaction of you switching out of his class. If he wanted to be like that, you decided, you would simply return the favor.

“I know, Ms.(y/ln), why don’t you tell us DeBroglie’s equation?”

“With pleasure, Professor Parker.” Yeah, you’d return the favor alright.

“Ms.(y/l/n), you stay.” Fuck that. You looked the other way and feigned ignorance as you kept making your way towards the door. About to leave, the door shut on your face.

“What the fuck!” You jumped before turning around and you felt your face heat up.

“Ms.(y/l/n), please refrain from using profanities in my classroom.”

“I’m sorry Professor Parker. I was just startled.”

“Mhm,” he took his glasses off and laid them on his desk, “Just don’t do it in the future Ms.(y/l/n).”

“Of course. My name is (y/n), by the way, Professor Parker, you can just call me that, actually, I prefer that people refer to me by (y/n).”

“Rest assured, I’m aware of your name, Ms.(y/l/n). My name is Peter, but you can continue to call me Professor Parker.” You could have sworn that you saw a ghost of a smirk on his lips. He knew what he was fucking doing, asshole. You held back from rolling your eyes into the back of your head.

“Of course, Professor Parker.”

“As you know, Ms.(y/l/n), I did request that you stay after class.”

“Oh? I sincerely apologize Professor Parker, I really didn’t hear you.”

“I’m sure, Ms.(y/l/n).” Fucking. Dick.

“Well, what exactly did you want Professor Parker? I do have another class soon.” Professor Parker narrowed his eyes at you in obvious distaste before reaching behind himself into a bin underneath his desk and pulling out a stack of papers,

“These are the handouts you missed from the beginning of the class. Textbook requirements, syllabus...Crucial information to have if you care to succeed in my class Ms.(y/l/n).” So coldly, so maliciously, Professor Parker placed the stack into your arms.

“I take my work very seriously, Ms.(y/l/n), I do my part as your professor so I only have the simple request that my students do the same.” You nodded feeling your face heat up again.

“Of course, Professor Parker, it won’t happen again,” you said with a tightlipped smile.

“Mhm,” Professor Parker turned around and began shuffling around some paper and without giving you a second glance said, “You are dismissed.” You nodded and hurriedly made your way out of his classroom. Of course, you had lied. You didn’t have another class until late in the afternoon. So you called your coworker instead,

“Hey, Harvey.”

“(y/n).”

“Wow, okay, don’t get too excited.”

“Sorry, just woke up.”

“Tsk, the early bird gets the worm, Harvey.”

“I don’t want a worm.”

“Fuck you. I’m headed to the lab, can I expect you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You had been working with Harvey for around four years now, he was quite the impressive specimen, having attended MIT and graduating Summa Cum Laude at age 20 was no easy feat, he was closer to Tony Stark than you would ever get, he was quite personable, and you couldn’t deny that he was quite good looking. You’d never tell him that though, he didn’t need another ego boost. Besides, you had some connections of your own.

“Hey, (y/n).”

“Banner!”

“Can we expect Harvey today?”

“Honestly, not sure.” You both knowingly smiled at each other before you made your way over to what he was working on,

“Do you ever get bored here?”

“With you and the other idiot always running around? How could I?” You laughed,

“No, seriously, like wouldn’t you rather be doing nerd shit with Tony or something? Isn’t it a little tiresome babysitting us?”

“Tiring? Maybe sometimes, but not nearly as tiring as doing ‘nerd shit’ with Tony. He’s exhausting,” Bruce smiled at his own joke, “I don’t mind playing babysitter at all kid.” He fiddled with the handle of a mug that read, “Don’t be so Na Cl,” which you had gotten him a year back as a joke, but he still used it.

You really loved Bruce for all he was. Since losing your family back in 2012 during the battle in NYC, you didn’t really have any familial figures. But since landing this internship you found yourself with a parental figure again, and you would never be able to put into words how much it meant to you, so you didn’t. Besides, you didn’t want him to feel pressured about it, especially after everything he had been through himself. Frying half your body and losing the love of your life in such a short span of time was really nothing less than horrifying. Yet, here he was, smiling, laughing...You loved him for it.

“First day of junior year? How was that?”

“Shit.”

“Huh?” Bruce stopped tinkering with the device in his hands and looked over at you, “I’ve never heard of a course being too hard for (y/n) (y/l/n), what is it? Aerospace? Quantum?”

“No, just one giant dick.”

“Pardon-”

“My professor, he’s a fucking asshole.”

“Ah, I see. If he’s really harassing you (y/n), I don’t mean to overstep, I really think we should alert administration, what’s his name?” Bruce took a sip of his coffee.

“Professor Parker,” Bruce choked on his coffee, “Oh my God, Bruce, are you okay?”

“Yeah-” he said, still coughing, “Just a little too strong.”

“Okay, are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bruce caught his breath, “What did he do kid?”

“He’s just a dick that’s all.”

“You sure you don’t want me to do something about it?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, I don’t know what you could do anyways. Thank you though.”

“Actually, you’d be surprised.”

Sitting at your desk stressing over school work at 3am, it was nothing out of the ordinary for you. Everything appeared ordinary. The ordinary cup of tea, the familiar glow of your computer, and a morning chill creeping through your window. It was all so breathtakingly normal until there was a rap on your window. You took an earbud out of your ear, certain you were just hearing things, you looked to your window. Holy shit.

You opened your window wide so that he could crawl in.

“(y/n)?”

“Mr.Spiderman.” Still too in shock to fully process the situation you started to take in the scene in front of you,

“Please, it’s just Spiderman.”

“Oh-Oh my God, what happened?” Head to toe the suit seemed to have blood seeping through, tears in the body of the suit revealed gashes and a bullet wound.

“Bad guys. I know this guy-said he knew a medical student close by, you are (y/n)? Right?”

“Y-Yeah, but I’m really just a student, I’m not really a prof-”

“This guy, he said you might as well be.”

“I don’t know Mr.Spiderman, really, maybe I could take you to the hospital though.”

“-Spiderman, it’s just Spiderman, listen, (y/n), you know I can’t go to a hospital, it would ruin this whole secret identity thing I got going on here, and this guy, he’s probably the smartest guy I know, so if he says you can handle it, you can.” You swallowed and nodded,

“Yeah-” you wring your hands together, “Yeah-Sorry, let me go get my first aid kit.”

[babbysquid]

Not A Whiskey Drinker

Author’s Note: Okay weeee I’m super excited about this. I’m really happy with how this first chapter turned out and I already have plans for future chapters. I am such a sucker for Whiskey and I can’t wait to write more.

Warnings: some slight cursing

Length: 1,934 words

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

For as much as you loved New York City, you absolutely hated its winters. Snow in the countryside was beautiful; white and fluffy, it stayed perfect for days on end. Snow in the concrete jungle however; wet, slushy, and turned disgusting in a matter of hours. Trudging your way through Central Park, the snow and salt crunching beneath your feet, you mind drifted. You had just been let go from you recent job, a personal assistant at a high end marketing office. Sighing to yourself and thinking about the possibility of moving back home your foot slipped. Before you could catch yourself you shut your eyes tight, preparing to land hard on your ass. But that smack never came. Opening one eye you were standing face to face with…

“A cowboy?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow at the man in front of you.

“In the flesh.” came the sweetest accent.

Opening your other eye you realized that the cowboy in front of you had snaked a hand around your waist. No wonder you hadn’t fallen. A beat passed and you realized the cowboy still had his arm around you. You stepped away and out of his hold.

“Thank you.” you said, giving an awkward cough and taking a closer look at you savior.

Not to be a cliché, but he was tall, dark, and handsome. Atop his head was a black Stetson, an odd sight in the middle of New York City. He had a perfectly trimmed mustache, and a small smirk underneath it. You silently thanked the cold for hiding the blush that crept up your face. The redness could easily be passed off as a flush from the biting wind.

“Anytime darlin’.” he said, shooting you a wink with eyes that you felt could swallow you whole. “Anyways, I best be on my way.”

Giving you a dazzling smile, he tipped the end of his hat with a gloved hand and brushed past you. You could’ve sworn that his hand grazed yours, but because of your thick mittens it was hard to tell.

Shivering slightly to yourself, you pulled your coat tighter around you and continued your walk to your apartment.

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

Unlocking your door and sighing to yourself you looked around your small studio apartment. It wasn’t much, but over the past year it had become your home. Shucking your jacket off you headed to the couch and sat down to pull off your shoes.

‘Guess I won’t be here much longer’ you thought to yourself.

After making yourself a steaming cup of tea you decided you may as well look at your email. Two days ago when you were told of your “dismissal” you had signed up for a couple different job search sites. If you were lucky enough maybe someone would offer you an interview, but your hopes were low.

You crossed your legs underneath you trying to generate as much heat as possible. As much as you loved your tiny apartment, it was an older building so the heating was shit to say the least. You clicked on the mail icon on your desktop and silently prayed to yourself. 10 new emails. Maybe there was hope.

10 Kale Dishes That’ll Be Sure To WOW Your Houseguests!

WARNING — WE HAVE DETECTED MALWARE

Most of the emails were similar to those: junk and spam, until your eyes landed on the last email.

RE: Y/N Y/L/N Job Opportunity FOUND!

Your eyes widened at the subject. Clicking on the email you realized that it wasn’t a scam, it had really come from one of the job search sites. Swallowing hard you hoped that it wasn’t just an offer from one of those salad making chain restaurants. You had your fair share of beginner jobs; barista, Subway, etc. After getting a taste of something more professional, you knew that that’s where you were meant to be. Besides, the pay that Starbucks gave was certainly not enough to live in New York City on your own.

Dear Ms. Y/L/N,

My name is Mr. Daniels and I am writing to inform you of opening at Statesmen Brewery, the New York City branch. I have been in search for a PA since my previous one left. After reading your resume I have become very interested in your skills and talents. Please let me know what days you are free in the coming week.

Jack Daniels

Head of Statesmen NYC Branch

You snorted at the sign off. There was no way someone’s real name was Jack Daniels and worked for a brewery. It was comedic to say the least, but there was no harm in responding to his email and getting an interview. Maybe this was your chance to stay in the city you loved, even if its winter was disgusting. Taking a sip of your tea you started to write out your response.

Mr. Daniels,

Thank you so much for your offer. I am very interested in an interview and am free Monday all day. Please let me know what time is best for you. Is there anything specific I should bring besides a printout of my resume and documents?

Thank you for your consideration,

Y/N Y/L/N

It was currently Friday so you had the whole weekend to prep yourself for the interview. If you were honest, the idea of an interview created a small pit in your stomach. It had been over a year since you’d been interviewed for a job.

May as well do some research on Statesmen.

Pulling open a new browser you typed in ‘Statesmen Brewery’ and clicked on their website. Clearly the company had some tech savvy people working for them as their website was modern and easy to navigate.

Statesmen Brewery has been brewing fine whiskey since 1885 and serving people all across the country and world.

No wonder you never heard of the company, you had never been big on whiskey.

The brewery had its start in a small barn in Kentucky and has since expanded to include two offices in New York, New York and Los Angeles, California. While our reach is wide, we consider every employee and consumer of our alcohol a close family member.

The rest of the front page went on to describe their whiskey and how smooth it was, as well as some fun facts about the company. You closed your laptop and picked up your tea, holding it close to your face and letting go of the tension in your shoulders that you didn’t realize was there. Before you could fully relax you heard your phone buzz on the couch cushion next to you.

It was your best friend Parker. When you first moved to NYC you decided to visit a small bookstore/coffee shop and accidentally grabbed the wrong drink. Turns out that drink belonged to Parker. She had come to the coffee shop to work on a script for an up and coming TV show that was set to be filmed in the city. The two of you became fast friends. You were slightly jealous of the girl as she really had landed her dream job.

Opening the text she had sent it was a photo of her holding a script she had written. Her round face was pulled up into a smile, her auburn hair slightly frizzed from what seemed to be an all nighter. You smiled at the photo and read the text that followed.

Guess who just finished her first script for SVU!

Quickly you typed out a response:

Congrats! Proud of you P. I have some good news too. Landed an interview with a fancy brewery.

Suddenly your phone buzzed nonstop, Parker was calling you.

You pressed the button to answer the phone and before you could say anything a scream hit your ears.

“AHHHHHH I’M SO EXCITED FOR YOU!!!!!”

“Haha, thanks Parker. Honestly I’m a bit nervous. I did some research and the company seems to be a pretty big deal.”

“What’s the company?”

“Statesmen Brewery.”

“Oh shit my parents love their stuff.”

“I literally know nothing about whiskey other than the fact that I don’t like it. I feel stressed. The interview is on Monday.”

“I’ll come over tomorrow and help you with prep. Also you know I gotta help pick out the perfect interview outfit.”

“Thanks babe. You’re the best.”

“I know.”

You snorted at her response. Parker was confident, and more importantly confident in you. The thought of having her help you prep eased the knot in your stomach.

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

The rest of the afternoon was spent talking to Parker over the phone. Eventually the two of you ended your call and you were left to do some random chores around your place. As you mopped the floor you slipped a bit but caught yourself before you fell over. Your mind flashed back to earlier in the day.

At the time you didn’t realize how strong the cowboy’s grip was, but it was not overpowering. You remembered how gentlemanly he was. Looking back on it you tried to remember his face. While it was a short interaction, you couldn’t deny that he was easy on the eyes. Sighing softly you tried to remember the last time you went on a date. It had been several months ago. Your busy PA job never really allowed for romantic relationships. Shaking your head you got on with your day, finishing your chores, eating some leftover Chinese food for dinner, and sinking deep into your bed.

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

You were awoken by a knock on your door. Grunting as you got out of bed you swung open the door. The only person who would bother to come over without letting you know was Parker. Your suspicions were correct as she walked through the threshold and made herself at home, talking a mile a minute the entire time.

“Okay so first we need to talk about clothing options.” she said dumping her bag on your couch.

“Not prepping for the interview?” you said giving her a confused look.

Parker sighed.

“Look, I already know you have this interview in the bag. Sure, you may not like whiskey, but you are a wonderful person. While you may be stubborn” you frowned at her comment, “that can be super helpful in interviews. You are a go getting Y/N. I have no doubts about that.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Fashion show time!” she said, opening the small closet and rummaging around to find something suitable.

After an hour had passed the two of you finally settled on a suitable outfit. It was professional but still had a touch of you in it. A simple black skirt with a fun silky button down shirt that had a cool pattern on it. As you looked at yourself in the mirror you couldn’t deny that Parker knew what she was doing when it came to fashion.

“Okay finishing touch time.” she said as she unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt.

“Parker! This is a job interview, not a date.”

“Ugh. It’s a brewery, they’re gonna be more relaxed about these things. Plus you never know, this Jack Daniels could be a cutie.” she said, giving you a wink.

You chuckled and shook your head. Parker was eccentric but you really did love her. You still had a small bit of anxiety running through your body, but the help of your best friend made you feel more positive about Monday. Maybe you’d be able to stay in New York. Maybe this job might be better than the previous.

[jimlingss]

Game of Temptation

➜ Words: 16k

➜ Genres: 60% Smut, 35% Angst, 5% Fluff, Succubus!AU

➜ Summary: As a succubus, your beauty is unrivaled and shaped to tempt mortals. But it's still hard to resist Taehyung, and there's little you can do once you've been coerced to do his bidding for him. This time, you find yourself entering the affluent Kim Household as a housemaid. And these poor humans don't know your intentions are far from being angelic.

➜ Warning: seduction, sex, homewrecking, infidelity, daddy kink, creampie, etc. There were no morals in the making of this fic. I do not subscribe to my characters’ beliefs, y'all. It's just some crazy fiction. Reader discretion advised.

It’s your chance to have a little fun, peach.   The four wheels of the luggage roll against the smooth pavement, over the cracks and up the massive driveway. The sweltering sun isn’t a bother when the feeling of flames licking against your cheeks is such a familiarity. Yet, you still feel disgruntled as Taehyung’s words ring inside your head.   I know you want to try your hand at it. And you’ve been telling me how much you want a little subordinate of your own. You could do whatever you want with them. There are no rules.   He’s a bastard. If it wasn’t for you being so wrapped around his finger and dancing in the palm of his hand, you would never do something this ridiculous. But it’s not like you have much of a choice. Taehyung’s words of persuasion act like you do have a choice when in reality, he mocks.   Yet, in spite of what you might really think, you continue on your way, lugging your heavy baggage up the stairs and steadying your breath. Feeling a sense of calmness, the pad of your index finger presses the doorbell. You listen to how the sound echoes inside the enormous manor.   There’s shouting, footsteps, and a second later, the door swings open.   There’s a plump woman with an apron tied over her body, her gray streaked hair pulled back into a bun. She’s out of breath as she is fatigued even though it’s only eight in the morning. But she still greets you with a smile that spreads into her chubby cheeks. “Hello! You must be the new live-in nanny and housemaid! Come in, come in. Don’t just stand out here! It’s so cold!”   She helps drag in your luggage.    The large foyer opens up to a grand staircase, two archways on both sides that allow you to peek into the chandeliered and golden curtain rooms. There’s antique china in a display case and vases on tables — more to paint a picture of wealth than for any actual purpose. But while one would expect a quiet and proper home, there’s chaos instead. Feet rumbling from upstairs. Sharp laughter and exhausted sighs. Noises of shouting and screaming.    “You’re younger than I expected. What’s your name?”   “Y/N, madam.”   “Oh, I’m not the madam,” the woman giggles at the thought and bats the air with her hand. “The madam isn’t as old as I am. I’m the Kim’s housekeeper, Ms. Yoo. We’ll be working close together. Have you eaten yet? The trip must’ve been long and tiring. Would you like to rest?”   The corner of your lips quirk. “I’m alright, thank you.”   “I’ll give you a tour around then. The faster you can become accustomed to this home, the faster you can help out.”   You nod, but before she can get in another word, there’s thundering stomps down the stairs.    A boy’s face pokes through the banisters and he gives a toothless grin. Not more than five years old, he wears a blue, collared shirt and khaki shorts, one foot with a sock and the other without — he’s no doubt a spoiled, little brat.   The kid makes a ruckus while running down the rest of the steps, jumping from the last three and he comes up to you, eyes wide and sparkling as he looks up. “Who’re you?”   You lower yourself and offer a soft smile. “I’m going to be your daddy and mommy’s new little helper. We’re going to have lots of fun from now on.”   “Jaesun! Jaesun, get back here! What did I say about slamming your bedroom door?!”   A frail woman with grating vocal cords comes down the stairs as well. Her chest is rising and falling, evidently winded from her son but her eyes visibly light up when she sees you.    “You must be Y/N, aren’t you?” She’s a pretty woman with few wrinkles even in her forties, dressed cleanly in a rosy blouse and white skirt. But her dark circles ruin the pristine image.    “Yes, I am, madam.”   She shakes your hand vigorously. She looks at you like you’re her guardian angel. An irony that tickles your senses. “Oh, I’m so happy you’re finally here. I’m Kim Yijin, my husband is Kim Namjoon, but we should head to the kitchen to talk. There’s not much time left.”   The housekeeper smiles. “Yes, I was about to show her the way.”   “Let’s go, Jaesun.” You offer your hand to the boy and he happily takes it, something that Yijin doesn’t miss and even grins at.    The kitchen is twice the size of the foyer, two stove sets and two refrigerators side by side. The counter space is enough to stretch your entire body across and you can only marvel at the surroundings.    “I hope you don’t get too overwhelmed,” Yijin says as she turns to get her coffee started and Ms. Yoo sets out breakfast for Jaesun at the table. “But I should tell you now before I forget to. My family eats a gluten-free diet. Our Jaesun is lactose and tolerant, so he’s only to have soy milk and calcium-fortified orange juice. My daughter has poor digestion, so try to avoid whole-grains when you’re preparing the meals.” She stops for a second, lamenting, “and she has such bad skin these days, so avoid milk and anything bad, like instant noodles, even if she begs for it. The girl doesn’t know what’s good and bad for her.”   With her steaming coffee cup in hand, Yijin waltzes around the kitchen, forcing you to follow her whims.   “Make sure the kids have at least three servings of fruits and vegetables. My husband doesn’t like eggs and Jaesun isn’t supposed to have candy. Also, this is less important, but I really like fried foods that aren’t too oily, so if you have anything you can make…”   The corners of your lips lift. “I have a fried chicken recipe.”   “I like you already.” She snaps her fingers, smile brightening. She looks over to the older lady, calling out to her, “Ms. Yoo, I can get breakfast ready for today. Would you like to continue showing Y/N around?”   “Yes, I will.”    Even when you could tell from the outside, the house is grand. It’s a closed concept, full of mahogany wood panels, twisting halls, oak doors and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. It looks like a place Taehyung would enjoy.    “Every day, we meal prep breakfast, lunch and dinner. Typically only the master of the house is here for lunch, so we have to watch our portions. He works a lot from home. Oh, his younger brother is also living here for some time. He’s an editor, so he’s quite busy. I tend to deliver his meal to his room if he doesn’t come down for dinner.”   You nod, entering the living room.    There’s a giant family photo above the mantel that looks all too artificial — stiff smiles and pressed clothes with a white background. But the space is warmed with cedar bookshelves, a coffee table to match and perfectly positions cushion chairs. In one of them is a sleepy man with dark hair, sipping on a mug as he reads the newspaper.   He looks up at you, features more tender than expected.   “Hello.” You dip your head to the so-called younger brother, keeping your voice soft-spoken.   “Mr. Kim, this is our new helper,” the housekeeper introduces.   “Yes.” His voice is also surprisingly husky. “I’m Yoongi. It’s nice to meet you.”   The two of you stare at one another until you dip your head as Mrs. Yoo keeps going and you leave the room, walking upstairs.   “We dust every day and clean the kitchen each night. Every other day, we do laundry and vacuum the rooms. The living space and foyer get especially dirty, so we have to stay vigilant. If your back ever aches from hunching over so much, tell me and I’ll give you some cream and heated pads.”   A door down the hall shuts and there’s an audible sigh. What follows are footsteps and a teenage girl in an ironed school uniform, backpack on her back. Her black hair is sleek, ending at her waist and in spite of puffy cheeks, her eyes are cat-like.    “Good morning, Sohee. Sleep well?”   “I guess.” As her pupils dart from the housekeeper to you, her steps slow and she halts altogether.   You lock your gaze with her and smile. “Hello. I’m the new housemaid, Y/N.”   You extend your arm, but she dwells — staring like a deer in headlights.   It takes a moment for Sohee to come to her senses and she shakes your hand while brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She timidly murmurs, “O-oh. Nice to meet you.”   “Sohee!” There’s a sudden screech of her name from downstairs, grating to the ears. Immediately, the young girl deflates.   “Coming!” she shouts back to her mom with a groan, rolling her eyes before running down the stairs.   The housekeeper smiles sympathetically. “Sohee’s going through a bit of a growth spurt, so she’s been a bit sensitive lately.” You nod and she continues, “We clean the bathrooms once a week and once a month, we wash the carpets. Your room is just this way.”   Down the corridor is a small mahogany door. But there’s grandiose double doors with golden handles right where the hall begins from the open area. And your strides reduce. You linger from curiosity and peer through the crack with an eye. Vaguely, you’re able to make out bookshelves and an imposing desk. More importantly, there’s someone seated in the leather seat behind it.   Mrs. Yoo notices. “Oh, that’s master Kim’s office, but there’s no need to bother him right now.”   Your body moves a little too late. While you’re still peeping through, the man behind the desk raises his head. Your eyes meet, but you leave before either of you can get a good look at each other.   The room you’re given is a meager space — more like a closet compared to the rest of the house. You hold in your scoff, looking around at the single bed. The empty desk. The tiny window with dead bugs on the sill. The wooden chair with splinters sticking out of it. It looks like antiques shoved in a shed. Not even Taehyung treats you this poorly.   “The bathroom is across from your room, so it’s rather convenient!”   You set your luggage down.   “Also, you’ll be watching Jaesun when he comes home from kindergarten. You’ll wash him and put him to bed as well. I’ll help you out until you get the hang of things, so don’t worry too much.”   You wonder if the old lady ever shuts up, but you keep your voice soft-spoken and your demeanour timid. “Thank you.”   “It’s not an issue.” Ms. Yoo pats your shoulder. “Oh, you can get settled a little later on. We should help the madam with breakfast. She doesn’t cook very well.”   It’s possible to get lost in this abyss of a house. There are endless halls and pompous rooms. You don’t understand the purpose of having a large music room next to a drawing room, but you suppose with this much money, it’s fun to throw it into a blazing fire.   The housekeeper continues yapping away as you make it back downstairs. But on your way, you catch a different individual standing in the foyer. Someone in a black suit with doe eyes, boyish features that draw you in.    He seems surprised to see you too.   “Ah, Jungkook! Have you eaten yet? Would you like a coffee?”   “I’m fine, Ms. Yoo.” He has a cute smile full of teeth and his eyes flicker to you. “This is...?”   “Oh, it’s the new helper I was telling you about. Y/N, this is Jungkook, Mr. Kim’s personal chauffeur. He’s been working with this family for almost as long as I’ve been here.”   “Not that long,” Jungkook retorts mischievously. “I only started here a few years ago after I finished school.”   “Only? Oh my. Feels like you started here thirty years ago like I did! Time goes by so fast!”   “Only when you’re having fun.” Jungkook grins and then redirects his attention towards you, clearing his throat. “I-It’s nice to meet you.”   “Likewise.” You shake his hand and dip your head with a tiny smile. He averts his vision too, becoming shy. Yet, when you lift your head, your eyes meet each other’s. You can feel the way his hand is getting sweaty, but you let it linger for a longer amount of time than necessary. Until you’re the one to let go.   He’s too cute.   You catch the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.   The tension between the pair of you is only broken when a voice coughs from the top of the staircase and Jungkook breaks apart from you, taking a step back. You look up at the master, Kim Namjoon. A man in his forties, tall with a commanding aura. His hair is styled neatly, thick glasses sitting on his face, sharply dressed in a tailored suit. Everything about him screams of new money.   “Good morning, Mr. Kim.”   He hums at the housekeeper. “Good morning, Ms. Yoo. This must be the new helper. It’s nice to meet you.” The man comes down and visibly inspects you, as if trying to figure you out and only looks away when he’s satisfied. “I hope you’ll do a good job.”   “Yes, sir.”   “Are you going already, daddy?” Sohee comes from the kitchen, crestfallen. The volume of her voice is quiet and tapers off, “You’re not going to have breakfast with us...?”   “I don’t have time today.” The words tumble out and he looks at his phone. Ms. Yoo opens the door as he answers a call outside.    You look over at Sohee who’s become dejected. Her shoulders have slumped and her hair falls in front of her face. She pouts and tries to hide it. But Jungkook smiles softly and ruffles her hair.   “Don’t be so sad. I’ll have breakfast with you tomorrow, okay?”   “Really?” Sohee looks up at him, eyes gradually brightening and her cheeks becoming rosy.   He nods. “I’ll make sure to come early.”   “I’ll have to cook more eggs then,” the housekeeper chortles and Jungkook grins until his eyes travel to you. The glance turns into a gaze and neither of you speak until Ms. Yoo turns. “Come on, Y/N! We can’t dawdle all day now.”   “Yes,” you murmur and follow after her, all too aware of Jungkook’s stare on your backside as Sohee still talks without him really listening. Once you turn the corner, the older woman pauses and your brow cocks. “Is….there something the matter?”   She smiles endearingly at you and shakes her head. “No, nothing’s wrong. You’re just very beautiful, that’s all.”

The house is chaotic.   Before going to bed, Ms. Yoo gave you one piece of furniture to add to the sad collection — an alarm clock. And it blares with red digits reading that it’s five in the morning. Lugging yourself up, you’re bombarded with chores. From laundry to wiping down windows and making the bed.   “Excuse me.” You knock against the door and there’s a muffled ‘come in’.   Yoongi sits at his desk with a stack of papers in front of him and a red pen in his hand. His room is similar to yours, cramped and modest, but with a larger window and mattress, and a proper wardrobe and closet.   The man in his pajamas doesn’t look at you. “You can leave it there,” he mumbles and you set his tray of breakfast food on his nightstand.    Your eyes linger on his slouching form. But he never turns around, so you leave.   The noise and bickering from the kitchen can already be heard from the stair landing. The stove top fan is blasted while Ms. Yoo fries eggs, Jaesun sitting at the table with his legs swinging and spitting his cereal all over the place as he plays make-belief with his robot, but most of all—   “Why won’t you let me go?” Sohee is standing by her mother, exasperation and the furrow of her brows ruining her otherwise innocent exterior. “It’s only Yeeun’s house! And you already know her mom!”   “I already said that she isn’t a good influence on you!”   “We’re only studying! I don’t get why you don’t like her!”   “Her family is lower than ours.” Yijin forces herself to become calmer and feeds Jaesun a spoonful of yogurt as he plays. She glances at her daughter after a moment. “If you know what’s good for you, you’d become friends with Lee Sunmi. At least they have something to offer us. And are you going to eat that bagel? It’s filled with cream cheese. We have to watch your weight, remember?”   “Why are you always picking on me?” The girl drops her choice of breakfast and cries, “What about Jaesun?!”   “Are you going to compare yourself to your brother?” She gives her an astonished look full of disbelief, tinged with disappointment. “He’s only five.”   Sohee is frustrated to no end. “I hate you all!” She screams and stomps away as you resume slicing the strawberries, eyes lifting every so often. You watch as Jungkook enters the kitchen at the same time Sohee’s leaving. She pauses for a second but then pushes past him.   Her mother screams after her. “Sohee! Are you not going to eat at all?! That girl! So rude.”   In the meanwhile, Ms. Yoo reads the expression on your face and smiles. “Don’t worry. They never argue for too long.”   “Shouldn’t we at least say something?”   She shakes her head. “I’ve tried to get involved a few times, but it never helped much. Better to keep quiet. Every family argues.”   The housekeeper finishes up in the kitchen while Yijin settles down and sips on her coffee as she scrolls through her phone. She asks for a plate of fruits from Ms. Yoo and at the same time, you notice Jaesun scooping his cereal and purposely spilling it on the ground. No one notices.   It sloshes into a pile.   You hold in your cusses and grab a rag.   The five year old realizes he’s been caught in the act and grins like a little shit. You get on the floor, scrubbing the mess. But the moment the floorboards are back to brown again, there’s another splatter of milk by your hand and a spoonful of cereal flakes that follow. It splashes on your hair and apron and you raise your head to find the little shit plastered with a ginormous smile.   “Done eatin’!” He announces, scooting back his chair before running off in giggles.   May Satan have mercy on the child before you tear his limbs apart.   The minute you’re finished scrubbing the floor and clearing the table, you go off to find the brat. Because god forbid there’s a scratch on him.    You find him in the hallway between the laundry room and garage. “What do you think you’re doing?!”   There’s a bright red crayon in his tight fist. And he’s scribbling all across the wall while laughing at a piercing volume. At the sight of you, Jaesun draws a line as hard as he can until his knuckles are white, bits of wax are sprinkling and the crayon is a half the size it used to be.   The kid runs away before you can snatch him.   Much to your dismay, Ms. Yoo merely smiles in endearment when you tell her. “Kids like to have so much fun, don’t they? I remember when my son was at that age, he was such a troublemaker too. But it’s nothing a little baking soda can’t fix!”   You end up on your knees, scrubbing the wall with a damp rag dipped in the white powder.   You’re humiliating and exhausted.    Taehyung was wrong — there’s nothing fun about this whatsoever. You swear to God you’re going to murder someone.   “How are you doing?”   You look up, discovering doe eyes and pink lips quirked at you. Jungkook is dressed in his suit that’s a bit too big for him, hands dug into the pants pockets as he glances at the wall. You smile at him, brushing away the strand of your hair that came loose from your bun.   It’s not too bad of a time to be sweating. To allow the beads to roll down the nape of your neck.   “It’s tiresome, but nothing I can’t do.”   “I’m assuming this is Jaesun’s little artwork project.”   “Who else could it be?”   Jungkook grins boyishly. “Once he decided to paint the inside the car using the leather seats as his canvas.”   “Why don’t they ever discipline him?” you ask genuinely, tilting your head up at him and he matches the playful glint in your eyes before shrugging.   “Probably because he’s the youngest and the only son, so it’s natural they spoil him.”   “But this is a bit much, isn’t it?” You shake your head, voice pitching upwards into a whine. The irritation was leaking through the facade you’ve created, but all it does is make Jungkook’s grin widen.   “It is. You know—”   “Y/N!” There’s a call of your name in a screeching voice. “Can you come here for a second?”   “Yes!” For the most part, the crayon is taken off and you breathe a sigh of relief. You look over to Jungkook as a tiny smile appears on your features. “See you.”   “Y-Yeah.”   His eyes linger on you as you leave.   “I’m about to be late for work, so can you please bring this up to my husband?” Yijin hands you a wooden tray with a tall glass of some sort of sludgy green liquid filled to the rim. The drink stinks of kale and lettuce. You wonder if she’s trying to poison him. “He hasn’t gotten anything to eat yet and I’m worried. That man never takes care of himself properly. Oh, and I’d really appreciate it if you could Jaesun dressed. Don’t know where he’s run off to.”   You nod and balance the drink up the stairs before coming to the familiar grandiose doors.   You knock timidly.   There’s a disgruntled noise of acknowledgment, one that signifies he’s inside but preoccupied. Still, you push the parted doors open and come forward with the tray. Namjoon never looks up at you, busy studying the files of documents.   The room is warmer than expected, oaks and mahogany, paintings and bookshelves, a large desk that reminds you of a judge’s bench — imposing, commanding. Not unlike him. There’s a fireplace, two leather sofas facing each other and a coffee table in between, and above the mantle is another family portrait that exudes a kind of stiff perfection.   You place the glass down on his disorganized desk, eyes peering up at the man. As you retract your arm, your skin brushes against a stack of papers and they’re knocked to the ground. He whips his head over, brow cocked.   “I’m so sorry, sir,” you whimper. As you frantically pick them up, you bend over in front of him.   “It’s fine.” You feel his eyes linger on your rounded behind before he looks at his document again. You mask a smirk. Namjoon mutters from the corner of his mouth, “Where are you from?”    You purposely pause so he directs his attention to you again.   “I grew up in the countryside not far from here, sir.” You hold the tray to your stomach, presenting a timid disposition as if his gaze weighs heavily on you.   “And what did you do before you took this job?”   “I was in university, sir, but I’m taking a break to save some money.”   The man gives a pleasant nod. “What was your major?”   “Education, sir.” You divert your vision elsewhere, but a sweet smile pulls on your lips. “I would love to become a teacher someday.”   He hums in approval, “I could see you doing that.”   “Daddy?” The conversation is interrupted by Sohee at the door. She’s dressed in her school uniform, but is nowhere near ready to step into a classroom with the way she’s teary-eyed and her voice croaks with a lump in her throat. “Mom’s not letting me study with Yeeun!”   Namjoon exhales exhaustingly. He sits back in his leather chair, looking at the ceiling. Sohee’s eyes stings at how she’s evidently annoying her father. But you don’t dwell, bowing your head and dismissing yourself.   //   You would’ve never picked up this job unless you had to. Not even for the useless money.   You detest education. Never did well, never had fun, never got along with anyone. Be a teacher? You could scoff ten times over. You hate children. You hate kids. They’re absolute brats. Noisy at their best and tormentors at their worst. There’s only a few perks to this job.   Like right now.   “I’m glad to be of service,” Jungkook breathlessly laughs.    His hot breath ghosts along your cheek while your legs wrap and lock around his waist.   A comfortable darkness surrounds you. The moonlight cascades through the small window, enough that you can see his handsome profile. And the slick, obscene sounds are covered by the dryer machine still rumbling underneath you. It has the last load of towels the housekeeper wanted to get done tonight — and it’s also helping Jungkook release his load into you.   The vibrations of the dryer flow through your body, adding to his raw strokes and the moans choking out of you. It didn’t take much to convince him to sneak away. The one-dimensional family is completely oblivious too, sleeping upstairs in their warm beds. You’re tempted to whine Jungkook’s name louder and make one of them investigate. You wonder what the look on their face would be if they found their little maid and chauffeur fucking in the laundry room.   Jungkook tugs down your dress further and gently noses your hardened nipple before his mouth travels upwards to the juncture of your neck. You feel his lips suck into your soft skin, but the fingers sunk into his dark hair tightens and you pull his head back.   He gives a throaty groan, half-lidded eyes pinned on your face.   You writhe against his hard chest every time his thick cock drags out of your walls. He’s bigger than you expected. Eager too. Jungkook is a healthy and young one, hips and strokes fluid albeit a bit fast and excited.    You can tell he likes you a lot.   “I-I would’ve never guessed you hated kids.” The boy watches how his cock enters you and disappears. Your pussy clenches around him and he sweats at his hairline, trying to hold back from cumming so soon.   “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you sing-song cutely and roughly pull him in by his shoulders, batting your lashes. “Can you kiss me, please, Jungkookie?”   He nods enthusiastically and leans in to nose your cheek. Then, he tilts his head and your mouth meets his. Your lips immediately part to welcome him deeper and his hands force your thighs farther apart, fingers digging into your flesh. Jungkook’s tongue licks into your hot mouth, making you moan.    Yet, the kiss is somehow sweet. Much too pure for someone like you.   The two of you break apart, lips wet with his spit. “I-I’m close.”   Jungkook’s strokes start to lose their rhythm. They become frantic. Frenzied. He can feel the shaking of the dryer jumping beneath you, how tight and wet you are around him.   You watch him through hooded eyes, tempted to coo at him and tell him that he can do it — encourage him that he can release his load right into your womb. But not wanting to ruin his fun moment, you instead squeeze as tight as you can.    Jungkook groans, hips jerking and he plunges deep inside your cunt to cum.    He gives two more thrusts. His entire body trembles and he realizes you’re still unfinished. Even with half a mind, he has the courtesy to lick his thumb and rub at your clit. You writhe with moans of his name, holding him close and a few seconds later, you get to where you want to be.   As you come down from your high, you pet him. “Good boy. Thanks for that.”   “Y-You’re so pretty.”   “Am I?” you hum and he nods madly.   Jungkook’s sticky breath heaves, chest rising and falling and you wrap your arms possessively around his shoulders. Whining incoherently, he understands that you’re pleading for another kiss. He happily obliges and you angle your head to deepen it. The kiss is lazier. Languid. Giving you a chance to taste him properly.   Jungkook starts to groan when you don’t pull away after thirty seconds.   He tries to part, losing oxygen. But you keep him in your tight grip. And you inhale.   It’s delicious. It fills you with a sense of euphoria, making goosebumps raise all over the back of your arms. It’s been a while since you’ve had a soul for yourself. And as it leaves his body, you feel him go limp around you.   Jungkook falls to the tiled floor, leaving a sopping mess at your center.   “Would you look at that?” A deep timbre sounds. He appears, manifesting himself across from you with the corpse in between. The corner of his thin lip is curled as if he’s impressed. His blonde hair looks white in the milky moonlight and the darkness causes his piercing brown eyes to glow. “Not too bad, peach.”   “It’s so easy, it’s not even fun.” You hop down from the dryer machine.   Taehyung’s devilish smirk grows. “That’s because you’re so naturally enticing.”   You roll your eyes.   He comes close, large hands lifting to cradle your cheeks. Taehyung kisses you without much warning — not that you need it — and he licks into your mouth, inhaling deep. He retrieves the soul you took, taking it right from your parted lips.   The two of you part and the thin strand of saliva breaks. Taehyung boops your nose. “I always knew my succubus was a talented one.”   You scoff. “Don’t act like you came here to praise me. You just wanted to collect the soul.”   “Can’t I come here for both?” He lolls his head, another smirk gracing his perfect visage that’s been sculpted by porcelain angel tears. “But it looks like you don’t need my help, so I’ll be on my way.”   Taehyung winks and takes the discarded body on the ground, disappearing with it. He vanishes as quickly as he came.   After he’s gone, you dip your hand between your messy legs.    It’s the last remnants of Jungkook and it’s salty on your palette when you lick your fingers.   //   The mattress is soft against your knees. It cushions and molds against you each time you push down. But still, your wrists strain against the hardened muscles and knots.   Yijin hums, a pleased smile on her face. “A little harder please. And oh, up there. Yes, yes. That’s the spot.”    You continue to massage her, making sure to knead your thumbs into the sweet spots. The madam of the house moans in satisfaction. If she wasn’t so annoying and if her soul wasn’t so bland to you — you would’ve taken it long ago. But well, she might be fun to have around a little longer when you start messing with her family more.    “You’re good,” she hums. “Where did you learn?”   “Here and there. My grandma had a lot of sore muscles, so naturally, I kind of picked it up.”   In reality, Taehyung makes you rub his shoulders all the time.   She looks like she’s enjoying herself, head placed to the side, eyes closed and the corners of her mouth raises. She’s melting under your touch. But even when she’s this relaxed, she still manages to yap.    “It’s been so long since I’ve been treated like this at home. I used to go to the spa often but there’s nothing like a home massage,” Yijin mumbles, “Namjoon used to do it for me all the time before we had kids and then he got busy with work, and well, it’s the reason we have this big house.”   She flips her head to the other side and you rub between her shoulder blades. “I used to be as pretty as you are.”   You keep your voice quiet and meek. “Pardon? You’re still pretty, madam.”   “You don’t need to flatter me.”   “But it’s true…?” Your voice pitches upwards as if you’re incredulous as to how she could think otherwise. “You have a maternal aura about you that I don’t have and you’re an established professional. Women can only dream of having that.”   Peering at her, you catch the way her smile sweetens.   At the same time, her husband enters the bedroom. Sighing and pulling off his tie, he places his briefcase down and moves to the minibar. Namjoon pours himself a glass of whisky and collapses into the white armchair beside the modern standing lamp, thighs spread wide and rather inviting. You look up at him, lashes fluttering in curiosity.   “What’s wrong?” Yijin opens one eye, clearly catching how stressed Namjoon is.   “I found that damn punk’s resignation letter on my desk. He’s gone.” He lifts his glass, taking a long sip of the amber liquid and letting the glass rest between his fingertips.   “Who?”   “Jungkook.”   “What?” Both of Yijin’s eyes peel back, pupils widening in shock. “How could that brat leave without warning?”   “I don’t know.” Namjoon looks to the whiskey, exhaling yet again. “After years of working for us, he upped and disappeared. I guess workers are always like that. Sohee’s been crying and throwing a tantrum. But anyway, I need to hire someone new. I don’t know who’s going to work this far from the city though.”   You continue rubbing Yijin’s back and you feel Namjoon’s gaze traveling to you from his place on the armchair. From the profile of your face, the nape of your neck, to the skin of your thighs that’s exposed from your dress being hiked up so you’re able to kneel on his mattress.   Yijin makes a noise. “Well, there’s nothing we can do. Do you want a massage too? Y/N’s really amazing.”   Namjoon looks away, tearing his eyes from you. “No. I’m fine. I only need to rest a bit before I have to go back to work.”   His wife opens her eyes again and this time, she gets up. You lean back, allowing her to do so.   “Oh my goodness! Your associate is coming for dinner tonight, isn’t he? I almost forgot!” She snaps her fingers and looks at you. “Can you please draw me a bath, Y/N? I have to look presentable.”   //   The business associate is Taehyung.   You couldn’t roll your eyes any harder when you see the blonde seated on the leather sofa as if he owns the place, suit and tie crisp, shoes polished. You don’t know what he’s doing or how he even set himself in their lives, but you suppose you had planted yourself in this household in dubious ways too — with his help, of course. So you don’t question it too much.   “I must say, this house is much more beautiful than I thought it was going to be.”   “That’s all thanks to my wife,” Namjoon chuckles, hands clasped together. “She has a better sense of aesthetics than I do.”   Yijin smiles. She’s dressed in another one of her rosy blouses and white skirts, polished without a hair out of place — to both play the role of the perfect wife and appeal to the handsome stranger. “Thank you. I wanted to be an interior designer a long time ago, so it was really fun to try my hand at it even if it’s not much.”   “Nonsense. It’s wonderful. Do you still want to be an interior designer now? You certainly have the skills for it.”   “Oh, no.” She bats the air with her hand. “I lost the dream when I got married and had kids. Plus, I don’t think I could ever work for anyone. It doesn’t really suit me.”   “Ah.” Taehyung leans back, all too comfortable as he is playful. “You prefer reaping the benefits of your husband and enjoying yourself? Can’t say I blame you.”   The corner of Namjoon’s mouth tilts while you approach with a bottle of wine, setting the crystal glasses down for them. “You know how women are.”   “On the contrary, they’re the more intelligent ones for letting us do all the work while they take pleasure,” Taehyung says, causing the other man to laugh and agree. You round the table to pour him a glass of wine and Taehyung looks at you with that infamous smirk, but you try to not make eye contact for long. “Thank you.”   You dip your head wordlessly.   “Oh yes.” Yijin perks up. “Thank you for recommending the company that you did. If not, we wouldn’t have been able to hire Y/N.”   “It’s not a problem at all. I’m always happy to help.” He smiles, taking the stem of the wine glass and rotating it to slosh the ruby liquid inside. “I take it she’s a good addition to the house?”   “Yes, she is.”   Taehyung exhales through his nostrils, lips adorned with a devilish smile. “I’m glad.”   You return to the kitchen unscathed, but damning Taehyung in your head for messing with your game. Though your irritation can’t last for long when Ms. Yoo hands you a wooden tray heavy with bowls and dishes. “Can you bring this up to the master’s younger brother? He’ll be having dinner in his room today.”   “Okay.”   You knock on the door. There’s a pause and after a moment, you open it.   Yoongi is in the same spot he was this morning, crouched over his desk with a red pen in hand, papers in front of him and round reading glasses perched on his nose. The curtains are drawn but the glow of the lamp gives him enough luminescence to work.   “You can leave it over there,” he mumbles and you place it on the usual spot.   The man never raises his head or pays any attention to you.   Your brow cocks and you take the tall glass, deciding to bring it to him. “Here’s some water, sir.”   And you purposely waver. The liquid sloshing on the sides and unceremoniously spills onto his lap. Yoongi jolts, arms lifting to save his papers while you sharply gasp. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry!”   You fall onto your knees and begin dabbing all over his lap and crotch with your apron. Yet your antics doesn’t last for a few seconds before he’s brushing your hand away. “It’s fine. It’s just water.”   You peer up at him through your lashes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kim.”   “I told you to leave it over there,” he grunts, casting a measly glance at you. “But it’s fine. If you have nothing else to do, please leave. I have a lot of work to get done.”   You rise to your feet and exit. He’s a harder one to crack. Those little tactics might not be enough, but you’ll get there soon enough. You’re certain of it.   “Y/N?” There’s a strangled whimper and you turn around in the dark corridor to see Sohee emerge from her room. The area underneath her eyes are reddened, nose raw. Her whole body trembles as she sniffles. The girl looks small and vulnerable, almost like a puppy.   “Is there something wrong?” you ask gently, akin to a mother cooing at her child.   Sohee’s eyes flicker up to you. “Did...Jungkook ever tell you anything before he left?”   You shake your head. “No. We were never that close. I’ve only spoken to him a few times.”   She nods. There’s a beat of silence and you lift your hand to caress her hair. The girl is startled but then eases, even leaning into your tender touch. You draw your fingers through her long, straight strands, petting her gently. “I’m sure he left for good reason. Maybe something happened or it was a family emergency. He was always close to you, right?”   Sohee nods again while choked cries come from her. “W-We were family.”   You embrace her, patting her back and she leans on your chest. “You’re not alone, Sohee. You have me now and I won’t ever leave like Jungkook did.”   She squeezes you back.   But the moment is shattered by a grating voice of her mother. “Sohee! Where are you?! Get down here and greet your dad’s friend!”    Her jaw clamps. She parts from you, rubbing her eyes.    You watch her go and she turns around to look at you. You smile at her.   //    “Your maid outfit’s cute.” He appears. A creeping shadow casted against the wall first, then flesh that stitches into the room. You’re resting on your bed, leaning against the headboard and filing your nails one at a time — the yellow glow of the desk lamp giving you barely enough light. “I didn’t get a good look last time.”   “What are you doing, Taehyung?” You blow against your index finger and finally ascend your gaze.   “Just having a little fun,” he chimes and muses that— “You’re taking a lot longer than usual.”   “Well, I’m just having some fun.”   Taehyung scoffs. “Don’t take too long.”   “You shouldn’t act like you’re busy when you’re not,” you bite back without missing a beat.   His brow cocks, smirk playing on his lips. “I think it’s been too long since I’ve disciplined you.”   Before you can react, he ambushes and pins you flat onto the bed. Taehyung hovers over you with a glint in his eyes, heavy body on top of yours, hips pressed together. He holds your wrists above your head, preventing you from squirming. But you make no attempts to do so, simply glaring at him like a petulant child. You’re neither surprised nor caught off guard. Taehyung always likes to be the one on top, in a literal and figurative sense. And truth be told, you don’t particularly mind.   His pink lips are curled and he leans down to your neck. He starts to suck into your skin, rough enough to break through and your pathetic cries only spur him on. Making him smirk against you. But your fingers find their way into his hair and you yank his head back.   Flesh coated in his saliva, a giant purple bruise is left blooming on your supple skin as the redness fades. “I told you no marks.”   “You’re going to need it, peach,” he says with a mischievous grin and then vanishes.   You’re left rolling your eyes.   //   The grandiose double doors have never been intimidating. Even when Ms. Yoo has warned you on your first day to not disturb the master working and to not approach unless necessary. As much of a brat as the five year old is, even he doesn’t come close to his father’s office.   But to you, those doors have always signified that a very fun game is waiting behind them.    Your knuckles rap against the wooden surface and you pull the golden handles without waiting for confirmation. Kim Namjoon’s seated in his leather chair behind the imposing desk, eyes flickering upwards and you smile, holding your tray higher. “It’s fruit, sir.”   “That isn’t necessary,” he says and you feign dejection, downcast eyes, shoulder slumping. He swallows hard and then beckons you over. “You can bring it here.”   You come forward and place the plate on a single empty spot on the desk not coated in file folders. You’re close enough that he catches a whiff of your scent and the hickey on your neck.   A scoff spills from Namjoon’s chest.   “You’re doing a lot of unnecessary things in my home,” he comments offhandedly, perhaps not for your ears to hear. It’s passive aggressive and you mask your smile. Namjoon looks at you. “I would prefer if you would work properly and complete your duties without doing much else.”   You feign confusion. Wide-eyed blinking. Lashes batting.   As if giving you the reason for his mention, his eyes linger at the hickey.   In a delayed manner, your hand raises to the juncture of your neck, covering the spot Taehyung made like that alone could remove it. And then, you immediately drop to the ground on your knees.   “I-I’m so sorry, sir. It...it wasn’t my fault,” you cry out, searching the floor as the volume of your voice becomes timid and shy. It isn’t hard to come up with an excuse. “J-Jungkook did it. I didn’t know what he was doing, but he cornered me in the laundry room and I..told him to stop...but…”   He slams his desk.   Hand curled into a tight fist. Making the pens on the surface jump. It’s startling and you look up at him, viewing just how upset he is. “He left the next morning and hasn’t been back…”   “So that’s why he left. Why didn’t you tell me?” Namjoon stares at you in distress. “This is very serious.”   You shake your head. “I was afraid of saying anything. I know Jungkook’s been here longer than I have, so I didn’t think anyone would believe me and I can’t lose this job, sir.” Your head tilts to look up at him, eyes gleaming through your lashes, lips pouted, still on your knees. “I’m sorry.”   The man sighs. “There’s no reason to apologize. If he ever comes back, I’ll call the police immediately. No one in this household should ever feel unsafe. I’ll promise you that.”   You nod and he helps pull you up by your arm. You stagger upwards and on weakened knees, you stumble. With agile skills Taehyung would be proud of, you land on the man’s lap. Perched on his spread thighs, your legs placed along one side, and hands securely on his shoulders. Namjoon’s steadied you as well with his own palms sprawled on the small of your waist. And your parted lips are gasping mere millimeters away from his.   It’s an intimate moment. One where your gazes lock. One where you make sure lasts three seconds to imprint into his mind.   And then true to the character you’ve created, you pull yourself away. You grab your chair and dip your head. “I’m so sorry, sir.”   Before the master of the house can get another word out, you run out the room.   The minute you’re outside, you run into Yoongi. Passing by, he cocks a brow at the way you frantically shut the doors and your breathing is laboured as if you ran a marathon.   “Something wrong?”   Your head shakes and you devilishly smile at him. “It’s nothing at all.”   //   It’s a game with these mortal men.   You know they want you — that they helplessly dream about you at night. Your words, your lips, you crawling over to them and doing whatever they ask. Showing what reality could be. But the more you let them peek without giving it to them, the deeper they fall into your trap of honey.   “What do you think?”   You place the papers down, a tender smile placed on your features. “Shouldn’t you ask your uncle who’s an editor to look over your essay instead of me?”   Sohee playfully sulks. “Yeah, but he’s always busy. I don’t want to bother him.”   “You made a few errors here and the conclusion isn’t as strong as the introduction. I think you should expand on this point into one or two more sentences. But overall it’s very well written, Sohee. You might even have a knack for writing.”   The girl nods with a grin and when you stroke her hair while telling her how proud you are, she looks up at you and leans into your touch.   Ms. Yoo enters the dining room, endeared at the sight of you and Sohee sitting together at the table and working on her homework. She’s reluctant to interrupt but does so anyways. “Y/N, the master is calling for you.”   The housekeeper never tells you for what purpose, but you have an inkling sprouted from your intuition. Swiftly, you leave and Ms. Yoo takes your place as Sohee continues on other assignments she’s able to do on her own. The pair of them are equally unsuspecting.   It’s evening and long after dinner. The sun is dipping over the horizon, crimson shades fuzzy in the sky. Everyone is preoccupied and there’s no real reason why he should be calling you.   But you don’t hesitate.   Your knuckles rap against the grandiose doors. There’s a pause and you push it open.   Inside, there’s a fire roaring in the fireplace — above the mantle is the family portrait — and the man is standing and staring at the flickering flames. His face casted by the warm glow and he’s nursing a glass of whiskey. Namjoon raises his head as you push the door back to where it was, leaving it slightly parted.    “Good evening.”   “Is there something wrong, sir?”   He shakes his head. “Not at all. I’ve just been thinking and I...realized I haven’t been as kind to you as I should’ve been. It didn’t occur to me that this wasn’t a safe place for you and I want to change that. I don’t want anyone in this house to be afraid.”   You know he’s referring to what you’ve accused Jungkook of doing and promptly you close the distance. Your steps are slow as your hips sway and you look at him through lidded eyes.   “Sir.” You keep your voice low. “This has always been a safe place to me, because I know you’re here.”   Your eyes locked into one another and a tense silence lingers.   Finally, Namjoon swallows hard and diverts his vision. “Would you like a drink?”   “I-Is that allowed, sir?”    “I’ll allow it.” The suited man smiles and moves to sit on his dark leather couch.    There are two couches facing one another by the fireplace with a coffee table in between, opposite of his desk and the bookshelves. A once private sanctuary meant for no one but him, yet you have an exclusive invitation.   His thighs spread as he gets comfortable and he reaches for the fancy bottle of whiskey. Namjoon pours a glass of the amber liquid. It sloshes on the side and he extends his arm.   You take it nervously as if you’ve never drank much before.   “You don’t have to drink it all if you don’t want to.”   “It’s not that.” You smile at him through your lashes. “I’m just wondering how expensive it is.”   Namjoon scoffs lightly, but not out of malice or annoyance. It’s from endearment. “You don’t need to worry about that.”   The rim of the glass is placed between your plush lips and you take a sip. It’s bitter, but slides smoothly down.   He watches you and in the meanwhile, your eyes flicker away from him. Something catches your attention on a mahogany bookshelf, so you cross the room. You allow your knees to brush against his, the loose strands of your hair nearly skimming along his nose.   Namjoon clears his throat, holding the crystal glass casually between his fingertips. “Can I ask what kind of perfume you use?”   You twist around with another easy smile. “I don’t really use any, sir.”   Bending over in his line of vision, you look at his stacks of books and other knick-knacks on his shelf. “You have chess?”   “I do.” He places his glass down. “Do you want to play?”   You turn around with another coy smile. “Can we really?”   The darkness of the room thickens, fire crackling and sputtering in the background. The glow is dim against your profiles and casts your shadows along the wall. The game of chess has been set on the small table. You tell him you barely know how to play to which he replied he’d go easy on you. A few minutes have passed and you’ve moved a few pawns around. Yet, it’s intimate and quiet as if the room is hidden away from the rest of the house. Something you’re sure isn’t too far off.   “Are you alright, sir?” you ask in a husky murmur, pupils flickering up to him as he’s mid-way from taking another sip of his whisky. “You seemed pretty stressed a few days ago.”   Namjoon leans back into the seat. It sinks underneath his weight. His thighs are spread as you hold your knight, still debating on where to place it on the board. “I still am, but it's just the usual business stress.”   “Your wife worries a lot.”    You place the chess piece down and he leans forward again, capturing your pawn with one smooth move of his rook.   “You don’t need to try to make me feel better. I know she doesn’t care.”   “That’s not true,” you refute half-heartedly. “Why do you feel that way?”   “It’s obvious,” he mumbles and takes another pawn of yours when you move it. “My wife is more preoccupied with using my credit card and all she does all day is nag which makes it worse.”   You move your bishop across the board.   “Because of her, we have to have two live-in maids in the house at all times,” Namjoon continues. The liquor makes it easy for him to relax and let the truth spill. He’s defenseless. “Sohee doesn’t get along with her at all and Jaesun isn’t disciplined whatsoever. Sometimes I wonder why my family is like this and where it went wrong.”   The older man exhales and slides his king forward.    He waits for your next move, but you don’t go.    Your gaze is pinned on him and his eyes travel upwards to connect with yours.   “It doesn’t need to be that way, sir,” you whisper.   It’s your moment. You can feel it. And you disregard the game in favour of crawling towards him. The chess pieces knock over, some to the table and the others collide to the ground.    He has no idea you were two moves away from checkmate.   In seconds, you straddle his thighs. Namjoon’s at a loss, arms not yet touching you, but hands never pushing you off of him. His eyes have gone hazy. He’s completely entranced by you, bewitched under your spell. Vulnerable to your seduction and the wicked temptation you offer.   “What are you doing?” His breath laboured and he tries to muster sternness to no avail, as if you shouldn’t entice him with such a dangerous game.   The corner of your lip pulls into a devilish smile. “I’m doing to fulfill every single one of your fantasies, daddy.” And you kiss him. Slotting your soft lips against his chapped ones, letting them move gently. It’s a brief moment before Namjoon surges forward like a man possessed.   Namjoon’s hands grab your ass and he pushes you forward until you’re sitting directly sitting above his crotch. You whimper, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His brows furrow, mouth parting from the pain and you steal the chance to deepen the kiss.    He struggles for control but you ultimately give it to him, feigning submission.   It’s too easy.   You roll your hips over his hardened crotch, feeling how your panties stick to your slick folds, and he grabs hold of your waist. The pair of you break away from the kiss with your arms wrapped possessively around his shoulders.   “God, you knew what you were doing this entire time, weren’t you?” Namjoon’s chest heaves against yours. “Every time you fucking bent over. Every time you tried to play coy. Such a goddamn tease.”   His fingers rub over your wet lips then down to your neck and collarbones. His hands travel to the low collar of your dress and then he tears it. The fabric rips against the threads and you whine in shock. But Namjoon never halts, undoing your bra and tossing it aside. He grabs a handful of your soft breast and pinches your nipples roughly until the bud hardens against the pad of his fingers. You sob out as he watches you through lidded eyes, mesmerized by the way your expression contorts into pleasure.   “I can see why Jeon liked you so much.”   “But I didn’t want him to touch me, daddy.” You pout at him. The thin layer of your panties and his slacks prevents you from feeling it completely, but it’s still dry fucking. “I-I only wanted you.”   “And you’re going to have me,” the man grunts and pulls aside the skirt of your uniform. His hand dips past your thin, white underwear and his fingers feel against your folds.   “Fuck,” he hotly exhales, “you’re soaked. Do you really want me that badly?”   “Yes, daddy.” Without warning, Namjoon’s index and middle finger plunges into your cunt until he’s knuckle deep. You cry out, hugging him tighter to you and he pants, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.   “Your cunt is so tight.”   You squeeze around his prodding fingers. “Tighter than your wife’s?”   Before he can answer, you kiss him again. Your sticky tongues interlace, sloppy and obscene. You taste his spit at the back of your throat — and it’s just the way you like it.    The kiss lasts long enough that you can swallow his groan and you pull off his suit jacket. The rest of your dress pools around your hips. It becomes frantic after that, breaking apart just to rid of your clothes. He tosses your ruined underwear aside, but keeps the rest of his own attire on.   It’s some kind of power play as if you should be the only one naked and vulnerable.   Yet he’s oblivious to how you have him wrapped around your finger.   “Tell daddy.” The older man’s hand wraps around your throat gently. “Have you ever been fucked properly before?”   His slacks have been tugged down enough that his cock has sprung free and his other hand grips the base of it. The reddened tip leaks with a bead of precum and you eye how big he really is. It’s more than Jungkook’s but less than Taehyung’s.   You shake your head and lie. “No.”   Namjoon cusses.   “Is that okay?” you timidly whimper and he smirks.   “More than okay, baby. It won’t hurt too bad.”   He guides his shaft to your pulsing cunt and runs the head of his cock along the collected wetness that has stained his pants and dripped to his leather couch. Both of you lower your heads, watching as he starts pushing through your folds. Immediately, your fingers tighten on his shoulders, wrinkling his expensive white shirt that was ironed by his wife.   Namjoon shushes you. “Relax. It’s okay.”   “I-It’s too much, daddy,” you complain in a pitched voice. “It’s too big.”   His jaw ticks, fingers sinking deeper into the flesh of your parted thighs. “You can take it.”   You nod and sink down on him slowly, making sure to draw it out as long as you can. And Namjoon’s head falls back. He groans and makes it balls deep inside of you.   You make sure to tremble and squeeze around him, keeping his cock at a vice grip. “Is this okay?”   “Uh-huh, sweetheart. It’s great.”   With his eyes closed, he misses your smirk.   You begin to fuck yourself onto him, feeling the pull and thrust of his big shaft dragging along your wet walls. The way your cunt stretches deliciously. Namjoon meets you half-way, hips thrusting upwards while you rock yourself against him. Your nipples are hardened and your breasts bounce in front of him. Tying the sight all together, you reach behind and pull the pins from your hair, letting it cascade down.   You know it must be a sight for sore eyes.    While you’ve never flaunted your appearance, you know you’ve been subtly altered to lure mortal men in. Your face and body are the accumulation of their fantasies. And it’s effortless to tempt them. To captivate their attention with a simple smile. You’ve looked at yourself enough times in the mirror to know that you aren't shabby too.   “Daddy, it f-feels...so good,” the words are choked out of you, sobbed as you bat your lashes.   Jungkook, the poor boy, was much more eager and sweeter. But with Namjoon, his experience is evident in his strokes. He’s rougher with the way he squeezes your ass until a handprint is left. There’s less regard with how he treats you, as if you’re just a pretty placeholder merely giving pleasure.   His hard thrusts against your cervix would hurt if not for how the pleasure overtakes you.   “You have to pull out, daddy,” you stutter. “I-I can’t get pregnant.”   Your kind can’t carry children from mortals but he doesn’t need to know that.   “I’ll do whatever I want,” Namjoon grunts, jaw clamped and brows furrowed. He sweats at his hairline. “I’ll cum where I want.”   You give a loud and exasperated moan that you hope he enjoys. “B-But it’s not right.”   “Shush. I’ll take care of you.”   You squeeze around him again, hands tight on his shoulders. Namjoon’s eyes are shut as he revels in the feeling of you rocking against him and you smirk, looking down at him. At how pathetic he’s gotten.   Just sitting on his lap and giving a simple kiss was enough to reduce him to this mess. From an established mogul in his forties into a helpless, hormonal teenage boy. In a few minutes, he’s thrown away years of marriage and loyalty for his wife for some maid’s cunt. A measly housemaid who’s supposed to be only a few years older than his own daughter.   Taehyung was right — this is fun.   At the same time, Sohee walks up the stairs while humming, hugging her textbooks to her body. She beelines straight to your room at the end of the other hall, wanting to show off how she’s finished everything and secretly hoping that you’ll gently stroke her hair like you always do.   But as she passes by her father’s office, her ears catch a high-pitched whine. She stops. On sheer instincts, her head swivels over. And through the crack, she finds her dad’s backside. She sees the way you’re on top of him, naked, riding her father. Your eyes flicker to her through the gap. She gasps.   Sohee backs away into the darkness. She turns around, a thick lump forming in her throat, her brows knitted together. But she doesn’t watch where she’s going and her mother meets her in the corridor.   “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be in bed, Sohee.” Yijin’s voice is grating to the ears and she frowns at her daughter’s disposition. The way her downcast head and eyes search the ground. She looks like she’s seen a ghost. “What’s wrong with you?”   She doesn’t mean to — but Sohee’s eyes incidentally travel back to the grandiose double doors.   And Yijin follows her line of sight.   //   “I can’t believe you’ve done this!” Her screeches fill the manor. It’s always been noisy, but never solely because of an individual and certainly never at this ear screeching pitch. “How could you do this to me?!”   Yijin’s absolutely deranged. She’s throwing a fuss early morning after what she saw last night and retreated to her bedroom. She waited for him to return. Yet Namjoon never came to join her.   Now she stands at the foyer with a suitcase that Ms. Yoo packed, but she has no plans of leaving. Instead, she’s tossing porcelain vases on the ground and tugging the tablecloth off of the table. The display case is open and fragments of antiquities litter the marble floor.   Jaesun is crying hysterically at the staircase while rubbing his eyes with two tight fists. Sohee remains silent, standing at the top and looking down at her mother.   “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The woman shrieks at Namjoon who stands there motionlessly, expression blank and impassive. It doesn’t seem like she’ll be satisfied until she gets a remorseful reaction from him or tears this entire house apart. Either of which you’d be amused to see. “You selfish bastard!”   Although this was entertaining in itself. You’ve never seen her like this before. The once polished and poised woman has been diminished to this vengeful bitch that’s about to pop a vein — a version of herself that you always knew was hidden deep inside.   Ms. Yoo is the only one who comes forward and tries to put a stop to it. “Please, madam. Don’t do this,” she pleads softly, tears streaking down her own face.   Jaesun weeps. “Mommy!”   “Madam, please,” Ms. Yoo begs as if she’s trying to placate a child throwing a temper tantrum. “You’re only going to hurt yourself.”   “You can’t do this to me, Namjoon!” Yijin’s hair is all in front of her face in a tangled mess. Her dress is wrinkled and she’s bare feet. Crazed — just like her husband was last night….except in different contexts.   Ms. Yoo starts to guide her away from the foyer to the front door, dragging the suitcase with her.    “Even if you divorce me, I could still get the house! Get our kids! Namjoon! Fuckin— Namjoon!”   Ms. Yoo pulls her out the door while crying and Yijin collapses at the steps as violent sobs wrack through her. The housekeeper sets the suitcase outside and looks down, hesitating.    Namjoon deadpans, “Close the door, Ms. Yoo.”   She shuts it. Fists bang against the surface for a moment before it stops, being replaced by the noise of wails. Instantly, Sohee runs upstairs, disappearing from sight. Namjoon turns away. Ms. Yoo sighs, taking Jaesun’s hand and comforting him.   The only other person is Yoongi. His gaze is darkened and he leans against the wall with arms crossed. You turn and his eyes pierce into yours. But wordlessly, you bow your head to him and go on about your day.   //   The house is finally quiet. Just the way you like it.   But it brews with a sort of intensity, a tension that doesn’t let you breathe easy. It was the calm before the final storm and your guard wasn’t going to be put down just yet.   You knock against Sohee’s bedroom door and after hearing no protests, you open it. She’s laying on her bed, covers over her head, having skipped school today which no one blamed her for. You clear your throat, speaking gently as if you were cooing a puppy, “You didn’t have any breakfast, so I brought you hot chocolate, Sohee. I’ll leave it on your nightstand.”   The mug is placed down and as you turn away, the sound of rustling slows your steps. She’s come up for air, hair in a disarray and covering her face, and she calls for you, “Y/N.”   “Hmm?”   “Are…..” She hesitates and you take the invitation to sit at the edge of her bed. The girl looks up at you after a moment. “Are you going to become my new mom?”   The pause is purposeful. It makes it seem as if you’re considering it. Makes it seem as if you’re staring at her because you’re wholeheartedly endeared by her. And that nothing else matters.   To top it off, your arms reach out and you hug her. Sohee is vulnerable, small against you and she eases in your secure embrace, allowing you to hold her. You even run your fingers through her hair, caressing her gently and she softly sighs, relishing in the comfort she never received from her own mother.   In a lot of ways, you share many similarities with her.   “I’m sorry, Sohee,” you murmur. “I didn’t mean you to see that. For all this to happen. I adore you and if you want me to be your new mom, I will, but it’ll be a decision made with you.”   She nods against your shoulder and the corner of your mouth pulls into a subtle smirk.   To think she would ask such a question merely hours after her biological mother was booted out the house is both astounding and unsurprising. It’s partly from her poor relationship with the woman and how she was charmed by you moments after your first encounter. A kind of love at first sight.    Not unlike how most men succumb to your allure — yet differing from lust. Instead, Sohee has developed a familial affection towards you.   But not everyone is as welcome as she is to the new change.   “Did you have anything to do with this?” Yoongi asks you. A surprise that he’s stepped out of his bedroom for some sunlight. Or perhaps to find answers.   You hum, continuing to place the stack of books back onto the shelf in the living room. “Maybe.”   His cat-like eyes are focused, pierced into you with a kind of intensity that would make anyone sweat. But you aren’t anyone. “What are your plans? Is it the inheritance? The status? Namjoon’s money—”   “Neither.”    Finished with your task, you move to the kitchen. But Yoongi blocks the doorway, leaning against it and never moving away. You stop, allowing your bodies to press together, testing as to who will give in first. Yet, he never once yields. Wavers. You’re close enough that he can feel your hot breath against his skin and as his jaw clamps, your pupils flicker down to his pouty mouth.   Against his own will, his eyes mimic yours. They follow to your own lips. And you smirk.   It’s a heated moment and then you brush away from the sharp-witted man.   //   For a short while, there’s a mirage that the game has several winners. But the instant gratification comes with consequences and there is only one ultimate victor.   “I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t work in these conditions. With the madam gone, it’s just too hard for me. I…” Ms. Yoo shakes her head tearfully, a wrinkled hand placed over her chest where her heart is. “I’ve spent decades working in this house, master Kim, and I think it’s time I retire and spend some time with my grandchildren.”   Namjoon stares out the window, unable to work, unable to move.   His frustration overwhelms him.   “I won’t force you to stay, Ms. Yoo. Sohee and Jaesun will miss you, but you’ve done a lot for my family and I. We couldn’t thank you enough for your dedication and hard work over the years.”   He is calm and she bows her head before retreating.   You catch her in the corridor and she takes your hands, squeezing them and wishing you the best of luck with a sweet smile. After Ms. Yoo leaves, you wipe your hands against your collared dress.   You knock on the grandiose doors.    “Get out.”   Disregarding his command, you enter anyway. Namjoon is disgruntled, seated behind his desk in his leather chair, a finished glass of whiskey discarded on the side. His hands are clasped together, elbows propped on the surface and he leans his head on his fingers.   “What don’t you understand? Leave!”    But you approach him until you can press your hands on the edge of his desk and lean forward.   The once powerful man established in his wealth looks up at you, dark circles deepening, the wrinkle between his brows made permanent. He stares at you as if you’re a fearsome curse, a bothersome pest, a fiend. And you have to resist the delicious smirk that tickles your lips.    “You did this to me,” he mutters, simmering in animosity. “You destroyed me.”   You round the oak furniture and plop down onto his lap. Before he can shove you off, you grab his hair from the back of his head, letting the strands thread through your fingers, and you pull.   He groans, chin lifting up.   “You were the one who made the decision,” you tell him. “It’s you who became weak. You thought about me and even now, you still want me.” The edge of your mouth tilts and you watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat before you lean in, whispering in his ear, “You can’t stop thinking about me, can you, Namjoon?”   “You’re a vixen.”   “Oh, I’m much more than that.”   You end up sinking to your knees and taking him to the back of your throat. He cums there, the taste salty and consistency thick — a kind of bitterness that you’ve learnt to find savoury. And Namjoon cums again in your tight cunt when you’re bent over his desk and he’s pounding into you, fucking you hard enough to feel his anger and for your ass to bruise against his pelvis.   “N-Namjoon, it feels so good.”   “Shut the fuck up, slut.” He sweats at his hairline, holding your hips and jostling you around as he chases his own release. You look across the room to the family portrait above the mantle and smirk to yourself. “I-I’ll spank your cunt again.”   He couldn’t even scold you. He couldn’t blame you for ruining his marriage.   You have him wrapped around your finger.   //   The photograph captured a moment of Namjoon holding newborn Jaesun, Yijin smiling with her arm looped around Sohee who was only eleven at the time. They’re in front of the house with Ms. Yoo beside them wearing a grin. She remembers that day, the family barbecue outside, the laughter and joyous atmosphere. Yet now, Ms. Yoo only sighs to herself and packs the framed picture into her duffle bag.   “You’re still here?”    Your voice nearly startles the old woman to death. She jumps and turns around, finding you at the doorway. “Yes, I was just finishing up. I didn’t realize I had so many belongings. I guess this is what thirty years gives you.”   Ms. Yoo takes a gander around the room, what was her home, then to you. She never once notices Namjoon’s cum dripping down your thigh from your messy and puffed center that still delightfully aches.   “I’m going to miss this place.”   “Or you could always stay.” Not wanting to waste any more time, you take three strides and your mouth presses against hers. The older woman is shocked, eyes widened at your kiss, but you inhale.   She goes limp against you. Her soul taken right from her. And Ms. Yoo collapses to the ground.   You shudder at the taste, at how your guts coil inwards. It’s terribly bland.    Her soul isn’t half of what it takes to satisfy you.    Not like you’re surprised. As a succubus who’s meant to entice mortal men, male souls are the desirable ones.   You wait for Taehyung to come pick up the corpse, but he never shows up and you curse him. He always finds a way to show his face and steal the good souls away from you, satisfying his own appetite and leaving the scraps left for you. But when it comes to souls that are bland to you and therefore bland to him, suddenly he has no business manifesting himself.   You kick Ms. Yoo’s lifeless body and having no other options, you roll her heavy body with the rectangular carpet. You start sweating as you heave her up. But with enough effort, you manage to stuff her in the closet and shut the doors.   Someone will deal with that later.   //   It’s amusing. Namjoon does everything within his power to act like nothing’s changed. That nothing’s happened and he isn’t missing his wife or housekeeper in his home. He grabs onto any semblance of normalcy, perhaps to cope with the changes of the past twenty four hours.   He calls for dinner to be set at the usual time and you’re thankful Ms. Yoo made sure the fridge was stocked up before she was to leave. All you do is slap the container food into bowls and heat them in the microwave before setting the table as you usually do.   The entire family gathers around the table — Sohee, Jaesun, Namjoon and even Yoongi.   “Y/N will be joining us for dinner,” Namjoon suddenly announces as you set down the last bowl. Your brow raises and Yoongi’s eyes round but no one questions it.    Not even Jaesun who often throws tantrums. The kid merely pouts. Never once lifting his spoon of rice into his mouth, putting on a defiant act, but you don’t care. If the brat wants to starve, he can starve.   You sit down beside Namjoon, across from Yoongi and diagonal to Sohee.   It’s tense at the table, the silence suffocating those around it. But you settle in comfortably and even pass some side dishes directly into Sohee’s bowl that you know she likes. Her eyes flicker up to you and a tiny smile tugs on her face. “Thank you.”   Namjoon clears his throat and looks to his brother. “You were working on editing a science textbook, right?”   “Biology,” Yoongi answers shortly. “For grade eight students.”   “And how is that coming along?”   They continue their conversation, making some small talk and you chew in your cheek while your foot lifts underneath the table. Your leg stretches and it grazes along the leg of the man across from you.    Yoongi immediately freezes. His brown eyes pool close to black and he glares. But you don’t let up, stroking the inside of his leg as you eat and look away from him. Yoongi pushes away. You scoot yourself forward. He tries not to draw attention to himself. Asked another question, he gives half a mind to responding.    Your toes slowly travel up to his thighs and then they tickle and twitch against his crotch.   Yoongi’s breath staccatos.    No one knows that you’re playing footsies with Yoongi underneath the table. That you can feel the way he hardens against his sweatpants.    “What game do you think you’re playing?!” he harshly whispers after dinner when the two of you are away from the others. Yoongi corners you, his good looks sadly marred by his twisted expression.   You blink, feigning ignorance. “What do you mean?”   But the little act doesn’t faze him. You knew it wouldn’t work the second you met the man.   “I know you have something to do with Yijin leaving.”   “I didn’t do anything, Yoongi.” You grab his shoulders, pulling him closer until his body is pressed against yours and you grin, breath skimming along his neck. “The dominoes were already in place long before I came here. You know that too. I just needed to give it a little push,” you exhale the word and he can’t stop himself from swallowing hard. From staring at you.   He eventually musters enough self-control to push you away and leave.   You turn the corner, the darkness enveloping the corridor and bringing a sort of eeriness. But it might just be from Taehyung who you find leaning against the wall. His arms are crossed and he’s smirking. “Aren’t you having a little too much fun, peach?”   “This is the best part.” You loll your head to one side. “Sometimes playing with your food before you eat it makes it much more appetizing.”   He laughs, chuckling from his chest and the sound tinkles. “I taught you well.”   Taehyung pushes himself off the surface and as he passes by you, he taps your butt.    He disappears seconds later, leaving you on your lonesome to keep playing.   //   Everything is falling into place.   It’s like you’re playing chess without an opponent, simply arranging your pawns as you’d like on the board. But because of how effortless and simple it is, it’s easy to get bored.   One day you’re waking up to a blaring alarm clock and slaving after the whims of humans as their servant and the next, you wake beside Namjoon in the master bedroom, having taken the madam’s place. You slept on her sheets, on her pillow, beside her husband.    There’s nothing fun about it anymore once you’ve won.   You roll over to straddle Namjoon’s hips, placing his morning wood right under your center. He’s shaken awake by the movement and groans, rough hands instinctively coming to grab your ass.    “W-What time is it?” his voice is still thick with sleep and you smile devilishly, rubbing your clit through your silk slip that barely covers your nipples. Your pink cunt is still swollen from last night’s endeavours, but you think one last one ought to be enough.    You won’t miss his cock after this.   “You were dreaming about me, weren’t you, Namjoon?” you whisper and before he can respond, your hands reach out, wrapping around his neck.   He’s completely at your mercy.   The man slowly blinks awake, coming to consciousness and a staggering exhale leaves his mouth as you position the bulborous head of his shaft to your folds. He mumbles something about how insatiable you are and lightly chuckles. But Namjoon should consider himself lucky. It’s not often you let the same human fuck you three times.   He pounds into you, hips lifting off the mattress. The stretch of your pussy is rather pleasing, but with the repetitiveness, your mind wanders and your hands around his neck tighten. You cut off Namjoon’s airway and his eyes slam shut with a loud groan. You can practically feel his cock twitch inside of you.   Unfortunately, the man loses it all too soon. It’s a bit amateurish for someone as experienced and punishing as he is, but you don’t blame him. Well...only a little as you lean down and capture your mouth with Namjoon’s before inhaling sharply.   Out of the three times you spread your legs for him and the numerous times you let his cum leak out of your pussy and drip down your thighs, he only made you cum once.   It’s kind of sad. Selfish.   Once you’re done with him, he falls back.    You hum to yourself as you climb off the man’s used dick and move to the vanity across the luxurious bedroom. You freshen up and pin up your hair, allowing a few strands to frame your face. After you’re satisfied, you grab Yijin’s shawl to cover your top half and you stride down the hall to Yoongi’s door.   He’s at his desk as usual, red pen in hand, crouched over a stack of papers.   But the curtains aren’t drawn, allowing the bright sunlight through his modest room.   “Mornin’.”   He turns around, brow raised, eyeing how you’re leaning against the door frame, casually greeting him in spite of being dressed in a measly scrap of fabric. “What are you doing?”   You quirk your head. “Something we should’ve done a long time ago.”   “And what is that?”   “Hmmm, I think you know, Yoongi.” You flick a piece of dirt from underneath your fingernail. “Let’s not drag this on for any longer than we have to.”   You stay ambiguous and he maintains an impassive expression. But his stoicness has no effect to deter you when you smile and approach him slowly. “You know, I was once like you. Complacent. Quiet. A little like Sohee too, maybe even more naive than she is right now.”   “Once?”   “A long time ago,” you hum. “I was going to get married to a bad, bad man until I became liberated.”   You come close enough to grab a fistful of his hair at the back of his head. His head tilts upwards when you tug, powerless to your enchantment. “It’s okay to give in, Yoongi,” you whisper against his skin. “It’s okay to be selfish and indulgent. You’ve done so well up to now.”   “What makes you think I’ll sleep with my brother’s mistress?” he asks in a harsher tone. “The whore that ruined his entire family.”   You laugh. “That’s not very nice.”   “But isn’t it the truth?”   “It is. But I’m supposed to be irresistible to men. Your restraint is impressive, Yoongi, but it’s only natural that you give into your primitive needs or at least be honest with yourself. You dream about me, don’t you?” The ongoing silence makes your grin widen and your eyes glimmer in the morning sunlight. “You’ve fantasized about me a lot. You want me.”   You lower yourself, hooded eyes connected with his. Your hair is messy, yet not in a disoriented way from sleeping. Yoongi smell it on you too — the sweat and musty scent. “You fucked my brother.”   “And I can fuck you too.”   You surge forward, capturing his mouth with your own.    It’s different. Languid with the soft caresses of tongue, his lips not chapped but puffy. The kiss is slow and lazy. Not eager like Jungkook but not as rough as Namjoon. Yoongi sighs, savouring and truly enjoying it, and it’s something you lean into.   You match his speed and rhythm and once you pull away, his eyes are hazy.   Yoongi pants, swallowing hard. “Who...are you?”   “Secret,” you sing-song and pull him towards you. The two of you nearly fall to the floor, though his bed is close enough in his small room that you collide against the mattress. The man hovers over you and you hold his arms in a vice grip. Cocking your head to the side, you giggle. “This is fun, isn’t it?”   “You’re a heathen.”   “Not quite, but close enough.” You grin and kiss him again. It feels good to.   Not long after that, you’re beneath him and he’s bare, quiet without a single moan. His cock draws deep into you leisurely, languid rolls that’s not necessarily chasing for an end but relishing in the pleasure.   “I was never going to fuck you,” Yoongi murmurs. “Even if I wanted to.”   You pout. “Why not?”   “Because I have dignity and respect for myself.”   You scoff. “Guess you lost all that.”   “No. I still do.” His voice is husky around the edges. “But if I give you what you want, maybe I’ll understand your intentions better.”   The corner of your mouth curls and your hips lift to meet Yoongi’s. You squeeze around him just to tease. “And what do you think my intentions are?”   “I-I still don’t know yet.” He sweats, hips sped up and then keeps a constant rhythm. “Why do you do the things that you do? Why did you try to tear this house apart? Gain Sohee’s favour.” Yoongi’s brown eyes pierce into you. He’s a perceptive man. “You don’t love Namjoon. I don’t think you loved Jungkook either.”   “Jungkook?”   “He would’ve never left like that out of his own free will.”   “You’re smart,” you coo affectionately and run your hands through his fluffy hair. It’s such a shame he’s just a mortal. “I promise you’ll know by the end of this, Yoongi.”   Another minute passes and Yoongi pulls out. You watch as he pumps himself thrice and finishes on your stomach with a quiet grunt, cum painting all over your flesh. You’re about to grab his shoulder to kiss him, but he parts your thighs and lowers himself. His mouth attaches to your cunt, forcing his wet tongue inside your used hole and he eats you out, licking at the juices that leak out of you.   But he remains meticulous and careful, drawing unrestrained moans from your lungs.   “S-So good…”   Yoongi works you up until you feel hot all over your body and your hands have sunk into his head of hair, threading through the strands. As if that wasn’t enough, he sucks on your clit and inserts his index into your walls. He sinks deep and curls the finger against the perfect spot.   Your back arches and you cum all over his tongue.   He lets you ride it out against the stiff muscle and his plush lips before he’s lifting himself up, revealing all of your slick that’s coated his mouth and chin.    “Thank you,” you pant, chest heaving. You gaze at Yoongi with heavy lids and you sit up. “I’ll give you the answer to your questions. Who I am. Why I’m here.” You cradle his cheeks in your palms and you lean forward.   Yoongi’s eyes droop and he kisses you back, softly and deeply. You keep it slow too, savouring the taste of yourself on his palette and then, when the moment is right, you inhale.   His lids open slightly, feeling himself weaken. Yoongi’s not sure if it’s from exhaustion, but as your kiss continues, his surroundings blurs more. He groans at the back of his throat, wanting to pull away, but without having the strength to.   The world around him darkens. His consciousness lasts three seconds afterwards. Enough to realize you’re a monster.   Yoongi’s body falls back onto the mattress.   His soul has been consumed by you and as tasty as it was, you’re a bit regretful. You pull the plush blanket up to give him some modesty and you ruffle your fingers through his bangs. “Truthfully, I liked you the best in this house.”   The sadness lasts another second before you’re humming and climbing off the bed.   The job is finally done and you roll your shoulders, walking out the room. As you do so, your exterior finally sheds of your human disguise into your true form. While your face remains the same, your lips redden and your hair becomes luscious and longer, draping your backside. The white, silk slip morphs to a dress in the blinding shade of crimson. It hugs your body, from the dip of your waist to the swell of your breasts. And at the crown of your head, two small horns manifest.   Downstairs, Taehyung is standing on the porch. He turns as you join his side and smirks. “About time you finished, peach.”   He’s been watching Jaesun. The five year old is running around the backyard underneath the sun and flinging around the toys his wealthy parents got for him. He’s completely oblivious to the situation and unquestioning to Taehyung’s presence.   Taehyung is the tamer of all brats after all.   “Didn’t you say I could take my time to have fun?”   “I think you’ve been having too much fun.”   The corner of your reddened lips pull. “I don’t think so.”   “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself though.” He lolls his head over and grabs a hold of your chin. Taehyung leans himself down to your height and comes forward for an invasive kiss.   Without warning, he licks into your mouth and you moan helplessly, completely at his mercy. Taehyung’s tongue is sticky as he tastes you, calm yet impatient. It’s a pleasant kind of intimacy as he steals your breath. But when he starts to inhale deep, you bite him.   Taehyung pulls back with a grin, the bottom of his lip split slightly.   You pout. “You should at least give me some. I worked hard for those souls, you know.”   He gives you a look. “Did you really?”   “More work than usual,” you bite back.   A black cat mewls at Jaesun. The kid swivels his head over, fascination growing as the feline hops from the fence to the grass gracefully as if inviting him to play. The cat has a short but luscious coat and its tail curls, green eyes wide. Jaesun instantly drops the ball he’s holding.   His greedy hands extend and he follows the cat behind some bushes.   There’s a flash of bright light and Jimin stretches himself out from his feline form. He cracks his bones and leans over, interrupting your conversation. “Thanks for the kid, Tae.”   Taehyung waves. “No problem, Chim.”

Sohee wakes up to a silent house.   There’s a strangeness in the air, a certain uneasy feeling in her body, but she dresses herself and continues her morning. It’s when the peace is ongoing that she searches for people, for her father first.   She screams when she discovers Namjoon on the bed lifeless. No matter how much she shakes him or calls out his name, he never moves or twitches. He doesn’t breathe.   The girl cries and runs to her uncle for help. But he, too, isn’t sleeping and isn’t resting like he appears to be. The man’s skin has gone cold, eyes shut tight, his lips pale.   She cups a hand over her mouth, silencing a sob in the eerie house and she stumbles down the steps. There’s only one person left. One person to help her. And she sees you through the back door on the porch. Standing next to a tall man.   Sohee’s confusion stops her tears while hiccups continue to wrack through her body.   “W-Who are you?”   The two of you turn at the sound of her voice.   Taehyung grins. “Oh. Nice to see you again, little girl. Remember me?”   Sohee’s eyes are swollen, cheeks stained with saltwater. Her body trembles as she grips the door frame. You coo at her, stepping forward with your arms open but she flinches. “W-What did you do to them?”   You sigh, arms dropping to your side, yet your voice remains tender. “They got what they deserved, Sohee.”   “W-W...h..at?”   “They succumbed to their primitive desires and suffered the punishment for it.”   “This is what you wanted, didn’t you?” Taehyung’s brow cocks and he smiles at her. “You were the one who summoned me here in the first place.”   Confusion is marked across her visage — brows furrowed, mouth lopsided.    But it was Sohee that called out to you and Taehyung. She was the one who began your assignment. She was the one who invited the pair of you into her home. Practically opened the door and ushered you in desperately.   “All those nights of prayer, did you really think God would grant you such evil wishes to get rid of your family? You were praying to the devil, little girl.”   Incubi and succubi like you and Taehyung need invitations to enter an abode. Yet Sohee handed the both of you that on a silver platter. Taehyung might’ve assigned the task to you, but it was a win-win. Not only could you grant her wish, but you could reap all the benefits by stealing the souls of her family members and indulging in their lust.   “All those nights of wishing your mother would get hit by a car. That your brother would cease to exist. That your father would fail his business….”   It was a victory from the start.   You give Sohee a moment since it looks like she needs it. It’s understandably shocking. You were once in her position after all and just as surprised. But the realization seems to sink into her with the way her eyes widen. “I-I didn’t know this is what would happen!”   “You wanted an escape from your life,” you say to her in excitement. There was one more benefit to this ordeal too — just as Taehyung has you, Sohee will become yours. “This is it, sweetheart.”   If you didn’t know you would get such an endearing subordinate from all this, you wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of it all. But ‘subordinate’ and ‘underling’ are such unpleasant words Taehyung uses. Sohee’s more like a little puppy for you to love, mentor and show around.   “Come with us.” You extend your hand, palm open to the sky. “We came all the way here for you.”   Sohee looks at both you and him, brows furrowed, hesitation evident. “What will happen to me?”   “You want to be like me, don’t you?” You smile at her along with Taehyung who remains patient. “I’ll take care of you and so will Taehyung. What else does this place have to offer you?”   This is the true game of temptation.   No one is ever forced into making a deal with the devil. It’s a choice. And one she takes.   The girl lifts her arm, taking your hand. A bigger smile pulls on your features.    And just like that, the three of you vanish together.

[re-diesirae]

Prologue & Chapter 1

Prologue

Llanbister, Wales. March12th, 2016.

He was running late. He shouldn't have spent those few extra minutes waiting for that coffee, but then again, the traffic today was a nightmare. He had no idea of what was happening, but at this rate he wouldn't make it to the office until past noon.

The man drummed his finger against the glass of the window impatiently. The line of cars was not advancing at all and he could see the irritated drivers coming out trying to figure out what was happening. The man checked his hand watch and sighed. His office was barely a few blocks from where he was right now; he probably would make it less late if he just got off and did the trip by foot.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by poke on his shoulder. THe woman sitting by his side had suddenly dropped her head on him apparently asleep and he couldn't help but feel the annoyance building inside him.

"Ehm...excuse me, miss." he said trying to hide the irritation in his voice "Miss?"

Seeing that the woman wasn't responding to his words, he tried moving her to a better position. She was cold and he noticed that she was holding a bulk in her arms. No matter how much he shook her or called, the woman remained unresponsive.

A loud set of screams made him jump on his seat completely forgetting about the woman for a second. He looked out the window and he could see smoke coming from somewhere a few vehicles in front. Just like him, the other passengers in the bus were also trying to see what was happening outside with curiosity. Suddenly he was distracted by a stir at his side.

So…the woman had finally decided to wake up.

He turned around to see her and screeched in horror. The woman was suddenly covered by blood; it dripped out from any possible body hole: nostrils, eyes, mouth, ears...

She began murmuring some incoherent things that he could not understand, but before he could ask anything the woman had jumped over him with a roar. It was too quick for him to react as she stuck her teeth on his neck.

The last thing he would ever remember were the people running frantically inside the bus trying to escape, the smell of blood, pain and darkness and horrifying screams.

1. CLAIRE

North America TerraSave HQ, Hughesville. March 16th, 2016.

Claire let out a frustrated sigh as she dug into the fresh pile of paperwork on her desk. After her return from Sushestvivanie Island, the North American branch of Terrasave had fallen into chaos. The treason of one of its higher characters had caused the organization to falter, and people were starting to lose confidence in them. As a result, the directives decided that it was time to put a meaningful person in the head, and that was how she got promoted to branch chief. Despite the pretty office and the fancy title, the new rank brought even more problems into her already messy life. As expected by many, Claire had done a magnificent job as chief by proposing new plans and strategic protocols, among other things. She had done such a great job that the Chiefs from other branches asked her for advice regularly.

"Seriously," Claire sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. " I am not sure if I'd rather shoot zombies every day instead of signing all this paperwork."

Claire gave the file she had been reading one last look before signing and shutting the folder. She left the thing on the pile on her right and stretched her arms. It was then that she heard the shy knocking at her door, and the auburn headed sighed and told whoever it was to come in.

"Excuse me, Ms. Redfield," Madeleine, her secretary, said, peeking her head behind the door shyly, "I am sorry, but I've been knocking for about ten minutes. I was afraid that you might have collapsed."

Madeleine had been working as her secretary for a couple of months now. However, for some odd reason, the girl still acted a little nervous around her. Claire was aware that there was an innate Redfield trait that would sometimes make her intimidating, so she gave the girl her brightest smile, trying to calm her.

"Oh, sorry. I've been spacing out a lot lately. Did you need something? Please tell me you bring me something good and not another of those endless reports that I am supposed to sign."

Claire was feeling pathetic and bored, and she swore that if she had to sign another of those stupid reports, she would jump out through the window and hide somewhere away from there.

Madeleine laughed, feeling a little more relaxed, and shook her head.

"Oh, no. It isn't a report, Ms. Redfield," she replied, "And I supposed it counts as good news, in a way."

"Huh?" Claire said, tilting her head.

"You have visitors, Ms. Redfield."

"Visitors?" Claire repeated.

She looked at the clock on her desk and frowned. She was sure she didn't have anything booked in her Agenda for that afternoon. She wasn't even expecting guests that week.

"Well, a zombie may kill me," a familiar grave voice chuckled.

Claire's eyes widened in surprise, and her lips curled into a smile as she watched her brother's form step into the room with a teasing smirk. He was wearing casual clothes, something that was very odd these days. To her shock, Chris hadn't come alone. When the large man stepped aside, she saw Jill, Barry, Moira, and Leon enter as well. The latter was who made her even more surprised, as she had no idea of what had brought the agent to visit her today.

"Chris! What the...? What are you doing here?" said Claire, dropping her pen. Suddenly, a wave of panic ran through her body, and she looked at her visitors in a panic," Oh, no. Please, don't tell me there was another outbreak."

Her question caught everyone by surprise, but it was Moira's laugh that broke the tension.

"See what I told you?" the girl laughed, "She's been like this for a while. Whenever someone stops only to say hi, she automatically assumes you bring news of the apocalypse."

Claire rolled her eyes. The only reason she did that was that she had enough experience now to know when something was off.

"You would, too, if you had my job. I've gotten six outbreaks in the past two weeks..." Claire defended herself, "that ebola case in Congo and the Plagas thing in Mexico still has me on edge, so don't judge me."

"Ok, ok..." Moira said, raising her hands, "No one is judging."

Claire sighed. The woman turned to her brother and tilted her head.

"Please tell me there isn't another outbreak," she whispered, looking at Chris.

Chris scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Tch, do I need to be in a crisis to visit my baby sister?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I supposed not," Claire shrugged, "but considering your history and that fact that Leon is here, too. It is hard not to think otherwise."

Claire stood up and gave both men a questioning look.

Chris let out a chuckle as he pulled his sister into a warm hug. Claire couldn't remember the last time she'd felt her brother's hug, and she was happy to return it.

"Relax, Claire," Jill smiled, putting her hand on her shoulder, "We just returned from a mission, and we got a couple of weeks to rest. Since we happened to be around and Barry told us you were overworking yourself, we thought we should come to visit for a change."

"Ok, that's reasonable for you," Claire nodded.

Of course, Barry would tell them that since he probably heard it from Moira. The girl was always complaining about how little rest Claire got, but in her defense, the piles of paperwork kept growing, and she needed to finish them on time.

"What about James Bond?"

"Very funny, Claire," Leon sighed.

Claire smirked at him teasingly, and the blonde shook his head with a faint smile. She often teased him with that, and she was probably the only person from whom Leon accepted it.

" Pretty much the same. I came back from a mission, too. I was in the area and coincidentally stumbled with Chris," he answered, "he said he was going to visit you, and since I haven't seen you in a while, I decided to tag along. Is it true that you've been overworking yourself, Claire?"

Claire laughed.

"I guess that's a plus from my promotion," she sighed, and then she quickly added, as she saw Leon give her a skeptical look, "It's alright. The whole thing is more boring than anything else. Just paperwork and stuff, you know. The sort of thing that Chris hates the most."

Claire punched her brother's muscular arm playfully, and Chris answered the gesture by hugging her by the shoulders.

Jill laughed at the comment, while Barry nodded gravely. No one knew how much Chris hated paperwork better than his partners. Both Barry and Chris would do anything to avoid that, so it was Jill who ended up dealing with that.

"Well, it must be some hellish paperwork, then," Leon said, frowning, "You don't look too well."

"Geez, thanks, Leon, but you are one to talk..." Claire said, rolling her eyes, "No, wait. You never look bad, so how would you know."

Leon smirked at her teasing but said nothing else.

"I know what Claire needs to look livelier. How about we grab a bite?" Barry suggested, "I am starving, and I can swear for my Magnum that Claire needs to put on some weight. Seriously, girl. Are you even eating your meals?"

"Yes, I am, Barry," Claire answered, "Are you here to lecture me on my eating habits?"

"Nah, that's Kathy's thing," Barry laughed, "but you're seriously too thin."

"Blame my quick metabolism for that, but talking about food. I think I can take that offer, but you, Barry, are treating me."

"Sure thing, whatever it takes to put some fat on those bones, girl," Barry smirked, patting her back.

It was rare to have all her friends and family reunited in the same place at the same time, and Claire couldn't deny she felt happy, but Claire's happiness always came with a tiny thorn of doubt. No matter how well things looked, a part of her was waiting for something ominous to happen and make that happiness crumble. She wasn't always like that, but after so many bad experiences, she couldn't help it.

No more than a few minutes had passed since the thought had crossed her mind that she found her prediction coming true. The group was walking out of the office when the harsh echo of the emergency alarm began to ring. They all looked around in confusion, and Claire bit her lip with worry.

"What's that?" Chris asked.

"Isn't that the emergency alarm?" Moira asked, looking at Claire, "That thing has never rung before, has it?"

"No, never..." Claire said with a frown. She picked the radio she carried on her waist and began calling into it.

"Red? Do you copy?" a cracked voice called through the radio.

Claire let out a sigh and answered the call, fearing the news that it'd bring.

"I'm here, Grant. Would you mind explaining why the alarm is ringing?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. There was a security breach. Someone hacked into the system and set out all the safety protocols."

"What?" Claire sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Again? Please tell me you are doing something about that."

"Ah, yeah. I am at it," Grant replied, "where are you now?"

"Standing in front of my office door," Claire said, looking at Madeleine. The girl was sitting at her desk and turning pale.

"I got an S.O.S call from Saya," Grant replied, "Things are a fucking mess. All the security protocols in the laboratories got activated, and people got either locked in or locked out. I tried to help remotely, but the hacking messed up with the system, and it's rejecting me. I am trying to fix things up, so I can't go and reset it manually. Mind lending a hand and taking a look? I think your master code should work."

"If it is rejecting yours, what makes you think mine will work?"

"Well, your code works differently, and even if it fails, I trust you can figure out a way to solve it in situ. Just try not to toast my circuits."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What happened the last time?"

Claire rolled her eyes.

"Fine. You fix up this mess. I'll head to R&D."

"Roger to that."

Claire put the radio away and groaned.

"Sorry," she told her friends. "I hope you don't mind a detour and a slight delay on that lunch date?"

"Well, we don't mind," Barry replied, "Duty is important."

"What happened?" Chris asked, "is there anything we can do to help?"

The group walked to the emergency stairs, followed closely by her brother and friends.

"Ah, never mind. It's just another false alarm," Claire sighed, "It's another attempt to wreck our security system. These pro-terrorists have taken it up against TerraSave, lately. This incident is the first time they succeed, though. No surprise, Grant is so pissed off. He controls the whole cybersecurity system in the building. His pride must hurt."

"Grant?" Jill asked.

"Grant Wallace," Moira chuckled. "Claire's little fanboy and the head of cybersecurity."

"Fanboy?" Jill asked curiously.

"Don't ask," Claire replied, rolling her eyes.

"Hardcore fanboy," Moria smirked, "and not shameful about it. How many times has he asked you out?"

"Out of topic."

Moira smirked and wagged her eyebrows meaningfully.

"So, pro-terrorists?" Leon asked, and Claire innerly thanked him for changing the subject.

"Well, Mr. Government agent, I would have expected you to know about it. It seems there's a significant group of people who believe TerraSave is causing more damage than good. The organization has made its enemies, and the situation with Fisher made our credibility fall apart. We get tons of threats daily."

Claire had, purposely, omitted the detail about the fact that more than 80% of the threats were specifically for her. She could deal with the nuisance, and there was no need to worry about them with silly pranks.

"Those extremists see anyone that goes against their ideas as enemies. Everyone knows the effort that TerraSave has put into helping people in need, Claire," said Chris, placing his hand on her shoulder. "You are all doing a good job."

Claire smiled at her brother. She didn't recall when was the last time she had Chris physically by her side. They spoke regularly by phone unless he was on a mission on some decrepit corner of the world and out of reach, but having the flesh and bones Chris was somehow soothing, especially now. The younger Redfield had been having some issues recently. Her paranoia and neuroticism had been keeping her awake at night. A part of her was unconsciously awaiting a calamity, but having her brother close was a rare comfort.

They reached the fifth level of the building, and Claire led the group through the door and into a corridor with white walls.

"Well, I just had a deja vu," Chris said, shuddering.

Claire snorted. The corridor would surely remind them of many of the bioterrorist laboratories they had visited in their career in the BSAA. However, it was the standard design of any health and investigation facility.

"Don't worry," Claire smiled, "We don't make bioweapons here."

"Fuck no," Moira agreed.

"Where exactly are we now?" Leon asked curiously.

Claire smiled again, this time with some pride. Level five and six held restricted access, so even most members of TerraSave had no access to the place. Chris had visited the building on several occasions, but he'd never stepped into this area either, and Leon had only come once, so she wasn't surprised that he seemed a little confused.

Claire was sure that Leon expected the place to look like a conventional office, but he found laboratories instead.

"Research and development, Level four. Biosafety and Public Health department," Claire explained, "We do some research on disease treatments and control. We work continuously to develop effective countermeasures during outbreaks. Health care systems, communication, medicines, among other things."

"You are developing vaccines?" Leon asked, "here?"

"I had no idea TerraSave could do that," Jill said, surprised.

"No, unfortunately, we lack the resources to develop vaccines. However, we can provide data to companies to help, and we can design treatments for disease, but we don't have enough power to produce vaccines."

"We have the brains, though. Right, Claire?" Moire said, grinning.

"I have no doubt we do. We have many competent researchers."

The group turned around the corner and reached an area with several glass doors. The lights on their electronic locks were red and blinking, and a tall woman with long black hair and Asian features was pacing back and forth in front of the door restlessly.

"Saya," Claire said, surprised.

"Ah, god bless us. You're just the person I wanted to see," the woman said.

"Well, I'm happy to be a sight to sore eyes, I suppose. You got locked out?"

"Isn't that obvious?" the woman asked with a frown, "I went to get some papers from the office next door when the alarm rang. All the doors got locked. I tried my master code, and guess what, it rejected it."

"Any sensible essay I should be worried about?" Claire asked, opening the panel and fidgeting with the buttons.

"Well, not on my part, but some people were working in lab3."

"They will run out of Air if we take too long," Claire sighed, "Let's hope it won't reject my master code."

"I am sure that you can figure out some other way if that happens," the Asian said, "though maybe something less explosive than the last time."

"Are you all going to keep reminding me that?" Claire said, rolling her eyes.

Claire pressed the buttons in the panel. Finally, after tampering with the electronic log several times, the red light turned green, and all the locks chimed, indicating that they were open.

"Bingo," Claire said, closing the panel.

"As expected from Fix-it-all Redfield," the Asian woman chuckled, "You're an angel."

"Oh my god, so the fix-it-all title was for real?" Moira asked.

It was because of Moira's sudden outburst that Claire and Saya remembered that there were other people present.

"Oh, my. Where are my manners," Saya said, looking at Claire, "Who might these be?"

Claire scoffed and turned to her friends.

"You know Moira, of course, this is her dad, Barry; this is my brother Chris, his partner Jill Valentine, and my old friend Leon Kennedy."

"Oh, friends of our chief are friends to me. I am Saya Hiwamura."

Saya shook everyone's hand politely.

"She's a doctor and one of our active researchers."

"You give me too much credit," Saya said with dismissal, "We all know the one doing most of the work here is you, Ms. Fix-it-all."

"Can you stop with the nickname?"

"Why? We know it brings good luck."

"That rumor has been running around the members for a while now," Moira explained to her father and friends, "everyone says that when something isn't working, you must come to Claire. She will fix it."

"Oh, that's a horrible lie, and the reason why my work load keeps piling up."

"Well, that's your fault for being good at this job," Moira laughed, "If you sucked, no one would ask for your advice."

"If I sucked, this branch would sink deeper."

"You can't blame yourself for that," Moira said, "That's fucker Neil's doing."

Claire shrugged. Suddenly, they were interrupted by the sound of Claire's radio. The woman answered it and got greeted by a lot of static.

"Hey, Redfield. Do you copy?"

"Yeah, Grant. What's wrong with your signal? It sounds so bad."

"Not...sure. Probably interference," the voice answered, "Hey, can you come to the Command Center? I've got troubles here, and I would like you to take a look."

"Me? You are the tech guru, not I. If you can't fix this mess, then I can't either."

"Oh, I am sure you can fix this. Come down here, and you'll see."

Saya gave Claire an amused smile, and the auburn headed caught Moira snickering.

"Fine. I'll be there in a minute."

Claire put the radio away and groaned. She turned to her friends and gave them an apologetic look.

"Sorry, I have got to check this," she sighed.

"Wallace calling for you, huh?" Saya smirked, "He'd use any excuse to have you pay him a visit, wouldn't he?"

"This is purely professional. I don't know what Grant wants me to see, but I am sure it is important," Claire shrugged, "Would you mind entertaining my friends until I'm back?"

"Oh, no. I am happy to oblige," Saya smiled at the group.

"Are you sure you don't want us to help?" Chris asked, but Claire waved her hand.

"I am sure it's nothing. Grant is a dork sometimes, but he knows his deal. The security system in the building is tight. I am sure they just messed up with the alarms and stuff, nothing more than a bad prank."

"Are you sure?" Jill said, "We don't mind helping."

"It's fine. I'll check, and I'll be back in a jiffy. We can get that lunch then."

Claire patted her brother's back and walked down the hallway until she disappeared around the corner, leaving the group behind.

Claire reached the basement, where the Command Center was. The alarm had finally stopped ringing, and the woman was happy to hear silence at last. The loud whistle was starting to cause her a headache.

Everything seemed to be in order, but she had an odd feeling in her gut. However, the woman brushed it off as her paranoia, kicking into action. She had seen several people on her way down, but once she reached the basement, she felt it unusually quiet.

"You are overthinking, Claire," she told herself as she pushed the door to Grant's office open.

The room was empty and dark, except for the tiny lights coming from the equipment. That was the first thing to set off her alarm. From all the rooms in the building, that room was the only one that never looked dark. Even if the lights were off, Grant's monitors would still light it up enough.

"Grant?" Claire called.

There was no answer and Claire's gut twisted. Something was wrong, and she was automatically on edge. Her clear eyes tried to scan the room for danger, but with the little light, it was difficult for her to see if there were any threats.

It was a good thing that her instinct was fast to react. Otherwise, she wouldn't have evaded the dark figure that tackled her from behind the door.

Claire rolled over the ground and stood up in a jump, taking a fighting position. The woman landed a clean kick on the ribs, sending the black-suited person against the wall.

Her attacker was surprised by her reaction, perhaps he taught that Claire was an easy target, but she wasn't. The woman was ready to fight if she had to. Claire hit the man several times, but the man dodged one of her hits and pushed her against the table, slamming her head against the polished wood.

The attacker was sturdier and stronger than her, and he had the advantage in the fight. However, she'd learned to fight from Chris, and he had taught her many ways to overcome that disadvantage. Claire's knee hit the man in the stomach, knocking the air out of him. Using that distraction, she grabbed his head and slammed it against the table several times until the man fell to the floor unconscious.

"Well, crap," Claire gasped, rubbing her head and trying to recover her breath.

She was about to check who the man was when a second man, who she had not seen before, attacked her. The auburn headed struggled against the man, leaving a mess in the small office.

It was at the last minute that Claire realized that there was a third person in the room, but she was too late. The third attacker raised his shotgun and hit her head with it.

The impact was painful, and it made her lose her balance. The second hit knocked her out, and the last thing she felt was a crushing pain on her backs as she faded away.

[forever-valentine14]

Boyfriend Headcanons [SFW]

Includes: Kyoutani Kentarou x fem! reader Tags: No beta we die like men, Fluff, slight Angst, Bad boy with a good heart x soft spoken angel, and reader insert. Synopsis: Your boyfriend is kyoutani kentarou. A/N: Im sorry if this sucks. I literally am dumb and just wrote this at idk what time. [Kyoutani Kentarou]

-Ah yes a delinquent's delicate heart

-Kyoutani is known throughout the students being apart of the school's most beloved volleyball team that is.

-Despite the team's beautiful reputation however his image for most is just as you'd imagine for someone who is called "Mad dog" and has that wicked grin on his face when he plays.

-You are known as a pretty soft spoken person with a pretty face. Pretty enough that you've been made to participate as a contestant in Ms. Aoba Johsai Pageant for the Cultural festival.

-One problem though, you have the biggest fear of crowds. You had been meaning to tell your classmates but their enthusiasm to fix that dress for you as well as your presentation during the creativity portion. With everyone pitching in and doing their best, how could you crush their hopes like that?

-Meanwhile Kyoutani had to stay behind that day. Polishing a few moves for the next game just around the corner. What a dork, not even allowing himself to rest on days meant for resting. It had been during the festival's peak when he finally decided to go out and buy himself a croquette at one of the stalls. Walking across a supposedly closed off staircase, he hears something.

-Everyone is looking for you. You excused yourself to just freshen up before the final rehearsal and onto the actual event when you never came back. You sit on top of a set of stairs where you can guarantee that they'll have a hard time finding you.

-You sigh and you know this is cowardly but- "Hey? Anyone up there?" A rough voice emits from the stairs below you. With the search for you going on, you panic and attempt to escape. Failing to get up in time, you lock eyes with someone's furious gaze. "Hey, be careful. Your skirt is stuck on the metal border..." he mumbles.

-Kyoutani Kentarou. Never thought that kyoutani kentarou would be in front of you, untangling a piece of metal from your dainty school skirt. All the while he tries his best to help you, all you think of is how scared you are that you no longer have a reason to stay cooped up here. Scared to finally face the crowd.

-"There...Huh? W-what's wrong you idiot?!" There is confusion, panic, and worry in his voice when he sees the tears roll off your face. It takes him a minute to find something on his person until he hands you something you didn't expect.

-A baby blue handkerchief with a white embroidery of his first name. You stare at him with tear coated eyes and it takes you a minute to finally sigh in relief. Letting it all out on him. Your anxiety, your fear, your guilt, and at the very end of your rambling he looks at your worried face. "D-...D-Don't look at anyone else then. Only look for me in the crowd, o-okay?:

-It took a while for everyone to get used to this strange relationship between the two of you but you wouldn't really care much about that. You grow to look for him in a room full of people as he grows to proudly glance at you before he makes a winning kill.

-As your boyfriend, kyoutani is very different than what people think. Of course he is protective of you and he is adamant about you going out when it gets late but he makes compromises for this. If he ever felt that there are moments that he cant protect you? He teaches you a few self defense movements. You're afraid of crowds? Listen to music while you're there or simply get on call with him if you can.

-Your first kiss ended up being hijacked by his senpais during lunch. You two were sitting in the empty gym when the momentum was perfect. If it wasn't for yahaba's voice while he barges through the gym doors...

-Dont worry though! Your first kiss happened soon when you first picked him up for practice and he picked you up as you excitedly told him about your great score on a test you worked hard on. Adrenaline flowing through you when you just kiss him in front of his team and all.

-He is hot headed. When you get mad at him and both of you aren't listening to each other, it sometimes results into tears. One thing I can guarantee is that both of you can be a bit more stubborn. Don't let the intimidating back, facing you, fool you though. In reality, he is already regretting continuing the fight in the first place.

-You face him and see troubled expression. He is full of pride but if setting that aside can heal pain like this then he would have set it aside a while ago.

-A sorry, a kiss, and a compromise. A respectable way to conclude fights.

-For dates, maybe the purr of his suzuki bike as he takes you to unexpected cafes around town. Your collective favourite so far being the one near the supplies store at the mountain's foot. A cafe you two settled in for long periods of time, either to do homework or to just laugh about the small details that people have on them when they pass the cafe's window.

-"That's a honda" "Nuh uh! That's a suzuki!" "Sure uh huh and I have a full head of long hair"

-Tarou has told you to not frequently engage in his club, not because he gets distracted or anything but because he knows just the amount of teasing that his senpais will do when you're there. Especially Oikawa-san. This warning did not stop you from going, to no one's surprise. Giving snacks to him or assisting the team in cleaning up, you wanted to be as involved with his life as he was involved with yours.

-Kyoutani would admit that he owed heaven for allowing you to meet him that day.

[hooniee]

   — ꒰‧⁺ eye candy + bonus scenario*ೃ༄

↷ jay x reader ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ genre: fluff | school romance ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷  warnings: none! ⋯ ♡ᵎ

♡ :: hii can i get a school au with jay? thank youuu i love you work!! ༉ ﾟ

⇢˚⋆ ✎ author note: hi lovely! thank you so much for requesting and i’m glad you love my work! it means the world to me <3 i’m so sorry that it took a while to get this out but i hope you still enjoy it! @yeojinscactus (the bonus scenario isn’t my favorite but i think it was cute!)ˎˊ-: 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*

my mans, jay

beautiful eye candy in the school, you know?

i know when we have that one attractive person in school

you don’t even have to actually like them

your eyes just gravitate towards them?ಥ_ಥ̥

that was who jay was

putting your books in your locker and you hear jay’s laugh near?

YOU SIDE EYE HIM AS HE WALKS BYE

(DID YOU KNOW PEOPLE CAN SEE WHEN YOU SIDE EYE THEM? BWUIBDIUWHID)ಥ‿‿ಥ

but he’s too invested talking to sunghoon to notice

sunghoon park: best friend of jay park and eye candy number two

jay and sunghoon were pretty popular at school

like F4 minus two other people

and they weren’t jerks (◡‿◡✿)

(just kidding haha i love gu jun-pyo(◕▿◕���))

meaning lots of people liked them

and had them as their eye candy

i mean sunghoon was handsome FOR SURE

but jay just had your heart ❤(ˆ‿ˆԅ)

if you don’t wanna listen to the sob story about your teacher’s life

just glance over and you’ll see an actual angel

let’s introduce him, shall we?

jay park: classmate and friend of yours, most importantly, YOUR CRUSH

the angel complex is different when he’s your friend pls

jay will literally come at you in class

especially if he sits behind you

english class is literally hell for you (ㆁᴗㆁ✿)

“quit it jay”

you shake your head

“quit what?”

“stop trying to see if my hair can balance your pencil”

(pouty jay) “b-but i just want to try it out,”

“well it keeps just getting tangled in my-”

“WAIT DON’T MOVE I ALMOST GOT IT”

your hair was coming out in CLUMPS because he kept getting this pencil stuck in your hair

you were questioning on how you weren’t balding yet ಥ_ಠ

from tangles

 and stress

the amount of trouble you have gotten in because of this man

“YAH THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT THAT I GOT DETENTION”

“my fault? HOW IS THIS MY FAULT?

“if you didn’t spit your disgusting, chewed up gum in my hair and stick my hair to the chair, we wouldn’t be here would we ?”

“well it’s my not fault that your hair can’t unstick that easily.”

sunghoon came in at the right time to hold you from beating the shit out of jay ᕕ༼✿•̀︿•́༽ᕗ

anyway

back to our regular channel （っ＾▿＾）

you had a PHAT crush on jay

you and sunghoon were shocked at how jay hasn’t noticed

anyone could see it besides the best man himself

oh did i mention you and sunghoon are good friends too?

he’s the only one to know about you liking jay

you don’t trust a lot of people but sunghoon was like your over protective older brother

he made sure you ate all your meals

always offers to walk you home

carries your books to your class

(to literally blackmail you into doing assignments for him)

when he found out that you liked jay, he did not like it AT ALL

“y-you like who?

“jay park, park jong seong, your best friend that you literally stick with all day?’

“i think i’m hearing you wrong? did you say yang jungwon?” (◕ᴗ◕✿)

the point, sunghoon cool older brother role

stamp of approval ٩(˘◡˘)۶

you would confess to him but you just didn’t know how to?

first, you don’t know if he likes you back

second, what type of confession does jay even like?

the ones that go out all big with ballons and a chorus?

the ones in public with a bunch of people watching?

the ones were you just say ‘i like you’?

AHH IDK YOUR HEAD WAS JUST A MESS

he should start paying rent honestly o(╥﹏╥)o

must be from the pain of having you hair teared out everyday

he just tortures you

in the movies, it always played out that if a guy tortures you

he likes you

well then jay would like 20 other people as well

jay just had natural flirty vibe to him 

(playboy shit)

why did you even like this empty peanut shell?(⊙_◎)

he has no smarts

and no sense of read the room

but he has the looks

and humor

GOSH DEIHWIEOHOIENFIOE

you really had to ponder on this

do you want to marry a guy who is an idiot and will make unnecessary comments but has the looks and can turn your frown upside down?

OR do you want to marry a guy who has a 4.5 GPA and will be able to keep his remarks to himself BUT is average and cold?

who do you think will win from this ratio?

of course today was the day that ms. kim assigns us a lab

AND JAY IS HERE

he usually skips chem but for some odd reason

he was here

“i will be assigning your lab partners”

the whole class groans and you cross your fingers behind your back

“please don’t be jay, please don’t be jay, please be sunghoon, please be sunghoon,”

“sunghoon with hana”

sunghoon can feel your deserpate prayers and shoots you an apologizing look

“okay if i can’t be with sunghoon universe, how about jake hm? i heard he’s good at chemistry,”

“jake and yeji”

“I LITERALLY HATE MY LIFE FBWIUBFIOWN”(º﹃º)

“jungwon and areum”

“sunoo and haneul”

“niki with sujin”

“heeseung with juyeon”

YOU WERE PRACTICALLY READY TO EVAPORATE 

like you were speaking to the universe,

“heyyy so i’m ready, can you book room 35 for me? i want a window view! thanks”

“jay and (y/n)”

“MY LUCK-”

you had to change your partner

you raise your hand and ms.kim glares at you

“these partners are final! no exchanging!”

you smacked your head against the desk

oh dear lordy

jay comes over, chem textbook in hand

“hey partner”

he winks at you

and you scowl

(I KNOW YOU LIKED IT ON THE INSIDE(/ε＼*))

OH UNIVERSE, WHY MUST YOU BE SO CRUEL TO ME?

you were sobbing on the outside

(YOU WERE DOING YOUR LITTLE DANCY DANCY OUT OF HAPPINESS INSIDE(・ε・｀))

“for today’s lab, you guys will be experimenting with how certain chemicals react with each other,”

this is gonna be BAD

“i will be passing out a sheet with information of the chemicals that are placed on your desk. please make sure to put on all your gear! “

“but ms. kim, these safety goggles make me lo-”

“i don’t care! this is for your safety hana”

you put on goggles, mask, gloves and coat

you glance over to jay to see him dozing him off

you smack his head

“I’M UP SUNGHOON, WHAT- oh it’s just you.”

“please put your gear on, you might burn yourself,”

jay wiggles his eyebrows

“oh worry about me i see”

OF COURSE I AM YOU IDIOT

“whatever, let’s just finish this lab”

jay puts his gear on too

even in a lab coat and in big goggles, he still looked handsome 

“(y/n), are you good?”

jay’s face was WAY too close ʕ◉aᴥ◉ʔ

“yeah i’m f-fine,”

you shielded your face and knocked his forehead back

he pouted before looking at the chemicals

“okay what’s this chemical?”

“that’s bleach. this is technically household bleach so it’s actually a mixture-”

“and what’s this one?”

“that’s rubbing alcohol. isopropyl alcohol, also known as isopropanol, is a colorless, volatile and flammable liqu-”

“what if i mix them together?”

“well i wouldn’t do that, it say-”

guess what he did?

he poured the bleach in the rubbing alcohol

wait for it

BOOM BOOM

.

..

...

RING RING RING

jay had managed to mess up

who am i kidding?

it’s jay 눈_눈

he mixed two chemicals that explode when together

and he set the fire alarm off

“YOU IDIOT, BEFORE YOU POURED IT IN, I WAS TRYING TO SAY THAT-”

“WHY DIDN’Y YOU WARN ME?”

“I DI-”

“ I CAN’T BELIEVE THAT YO-”

“IF YOU WOULD LISTEN TO ME IDIOT”

you threw a book at him

“I TRIED TO, LOOK WHAT YOU DID”

he threw the book back at you-

you guys just kept throwing books at each other BDDJFJFMVKDKCNVK

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU BECAUSE OF THIS FIRE ALARM”

“okay class, please do not remove any of your protective gear and exit to the left of the classroom,”

going to school with jay was intresteing?

never a normal day

sadly

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*

the loud blare of the fire alarm rung but ms. kim’s screaming instructions managed to beat the sound. you turn around to glare at jay. you pick up your notebook and throw it to him.

“this is your fault you idiot! if you would have just-” you shout

jay throws the book back at you and it hits your face.

his eyes widen before he tries to contains his laughter “s-sorry i didn’t mean t-too ”

jay bursts our laughing before someone gets a hold of his lab coat.

“YAH WHO ARE YOU- JAKE MY MAN,” jay goes in for a bro-shake

“yeah not right now dude,” jake drags him away outside and jay dramatically puts a hand over his chest and waves goodbye to you.

you roll your eyes before heading out of the door and out the emergancy exit.

a tall penguin’s eyes glance around before seeing your face and letting a sigh of relief. he jogs over to you, “(y/n) don’t scare me like that, i thought you were still stuck in there.”

sunghoon swings his arm over your shoulder. you sigh, “i was stuck in there because jay was arguing about who started the explosion.”

you and sunghoon both glance at the whale cry of jay.

jay was laying on the ground, acting dead while jake was panicking and jungwon rolled his eyes, nudging jay with his foot

“what about him do you like again?”

“i don’t know?”

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

Voice

One-Shot

Description: When Mr Freezy enters your life, your peaceful world is destroyed.

Warnings: Non-consensual, voyeurism, masturbation, verbal abuses, harsh language and hints of necrophilia

DO NOT PROCEED IF THESE THINGS UPSET YOU. THIS IS A VERY DARK STORY. ONLY PROCEED IF YOU ARE 18+

This one-shot is my entry for Week 5 of @donutloverxo 's superfun writing challenge. This time, the challenge was based on GIFs. The one I selected will appear in the story below. Click here to participate in their weekly challenges

A/N- I blame @jtargaryen18 for making me an unholy hoe for Mr Freezy! 

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

You were living the best life in 1969. Working part-time at the ice-cream parlor in the mornings, hanging out with your friends in the evening and sneaking out for parties at night, you loved your routine, carefree life in New Jersey.

Your foot bobbed along the tunes of Honky Tonk Woman by The Rolling Stones as you read that month's fashion magazine, sitting by the new, shiny cassette player. Taking pride in the fact that your family was the first in the neighborhood to buy the expensive cassette player, latest in the technology of playing music, you smirked as you delicately, almost teasingly fondled the device. 

*beep beep*

The annoying horn of the filthy ice-cream truck broke you out of your reverie. Scowling, you turned to look at the abomination on 4 wheels parked right in front of your house. The long-haired driver, who called himself Mr Freezy, always gave you creepy vibes. Maybe he thought his wide smile would lure in more children, but it never failed to make your skin crawl with disgust. 

You tried your best to ignore him and his irritating horn, hoping that he would drive away soon enough. Unfortunately, it was a hot summer's day and there was a long, winding line of customers.

After yet another *beep beep* you slammed down the magazine on the table. Walking out in your pinkish-red knee-length skirt and long-sleeved top, you had a good mind to tell Mr Freezy off.

Standing in front of his ice-cream truck window, you stomped your foot and placed your hands on your hips. "How can I help you Ms Jello Mould?" his disgusting attempt at comparing you to a dessert sent a chill down your spine. 

"You have a long line of customers! Stop pressing your horn every 5 seconds!" you exclaimed, gesturing your hands towards the waiting people.

Mr Freezy chuckled, but the mirth didn't reach his eyes behind the glasses, "Now now. That is no way to talk to someone who is older than you Raspberry Ripple," he said in a friendly tone, "Not everybody can afford to buy a cassette player." 

"Maybe you can if you cleaned your ice-cream truck once in a while," you spat, purposefully covering your nose, "I work in an ice-cream parlor, and no establishment dealing with ice-creams should stink like this!" 

"My customers don't seem to mind it Sugar," his sweet tongue rolling the last word as if he was drooling.

You huffed, "I mind it! And stop with the horn! Or I will have daddy make sure you are never seen here again." And with that hardly intimidating threat, you walked towards your house. Mr Freezy licked his lips as he saw your silhouette disappear behind the front door. He could put your bratty nature to good use. Very good use indeed.

🍦

Dressed in a brown checkered dress, you sauntered home after your shift ended, your spirits high as you looked forward to being Ricky's date tonight at the party.

As you entered your home, your eyes fell upon the new cassette sitting besides your beloved player. Squealing with excitement, you rushed and grabbed the plastic box, hurriedly prying it open. To your surprise, a few photographs of you and Ricky fell out of the case with the words "Does daddy know about him?" scribbled on the back of every photograph.

No no no. OH GOD NO! you panicked as you rifled through the images. Your parents had no idea about your nightlife, let alone your boyfriend! These lovey-dovey photographs threatened to reveal your secret and ruin your life.

You found another note in the box behind the cassette, "There are plenty where these came from. Now be a good girl and play the cassette." Just beneath the sentence, a chocolate bar was roughly drawn in the corner and the words “My Chocolate Fudge” were written in small letters. 

Your hands trembled as you hit play. A raspy voice greeted you from the device.

"Hey baby." You knew this voice, who was he? "Has daddy's little princess recognised me?" You were pretty shaken up, your mind refused to let go of the terror and think straight for a moment as your thumbs rubbed against one another.

"Oohh Sugar, what am I going to do with you?" the voice chuckled. That sentence brought you to a complete halt. It was Mr Freezy! How dare he threaten you like this?

Before you could form any coherent thought, he tut-tutted in annoyance, "How can an ordinary ice-cream man like me trouble a beautiful young woman such as yourself? What will Daddy say? Let's call Daddy shall we? I am sure he would enjoy looking at how well Ricky can fondle his daughter's breasts."

You felt numb as his words sank in. If your father found out, he would have you sent to the country, to his relatives who lived on a farm! Eww!! You shuddered, overcome with disgust as the cassette continued.

"Now Sugar, we don't need to tell Daddy about us. Do we?" You shook your head in response. "Very good," Mr Freezy continued, "Open the curtains to your right, and look at the house across the street."

You followed the instructions, and nearly choked on your spit. There he was, in your neighbour's house, smiling and waving from their first-floor window. "Follow my next instructions very carefully, or I will make sure that your entire neighborhood comes to know about the wonderful kisser that Ricky is."

You could only nod in response. No matter what, you could not afford to let your family be humiliated because of your actions. 

"From now on, hit pause after you finish every command. And hurry, we haven't got all day Sugar. Your mother will be home soon. And if she is home before I am done with you, then let's just say tonight there wouldn't be any dessert for you," you gulped in agreement.

"Pull up a chair near the window and place the player near you." Your fear slowed you down and the recorder kept on playing, "Face the window, and strip." After a pause, you heard, "Sit on the chair and spread your legs wide. Keep your feet on the windowsill."

The rest of the commands fell on deaf ears as your body was stunned in shock. Did this man… really? You couldn't. You wouldn't. Maybe you could still apologise…

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you realised what this man wanted you to do. It was almost 4:30pm and people would soon fill the street in front of your house. If anybody decided to even look towards the window, they would surely see your body on full display.

As if reading your thoughts, Mr Freezy shook his head and pointed to his wristwatch.

You knew your mother would be home before 5:30pm. Whatever you had to do, you would have to do it quickly. 

With trembling hands, you paused the cassette, and obeyed his first two commands, the upholstery on the chair feeling warm against your naked bottom. From this angle, you couldn't see him, but you were sure he was keeping an eye on you.

You were correct. 

Mr Freezy sucked on his ice-cream bar as he watched the scene unfold. His tongue working the cold dessert as if it were your core. A small bite here, a suck there, and his length was already aching in his pants.

"Oooo look at that slutty pussy! Just waiting for a man's touch," his voice cooed from the recorder, "Play with your clit with one hand, and bring your other hand to your breast."

You begrudgingly relented, wanting to get it all over with soon. Heat flooded to your face as the indignity of your actions set in.

Across the street, Mr Freezy unzipped his pants, and started rubbing the neighbor's panty on his shaft, his touch fleetingly light as he sucked on the bar. He bit into the ice-cream when you rubbed your clit, the cold going straight to his length.

"I love how your plump breasts bounce everytime you take a step. A man can get lost in those curves of yours," his raspy voice continued, "Squeeze your breast lightly. Feel it's roundness. Tease your nipple too. Fondle it with one finger." 

You bit your lips as you followed his instructions. You had masturbated a few times and had even reached third base with Ricky, but it had never felt like this. You knew this was humiliation in answer to your rude behaviour. But this… it felt… good. You were ashamed to admit it, but as the teasing prolonged, you started feeling the familiar and ever elusive knot building up in your stomach.

"Yes yes yes baby. Rub that clit harder. Make that pussy wet for me. But don't you dare enter a finger in your cumhole." 

He watched as your hips thrust upwards, desperate for friction, as he started pumping himself faster. 

"Slap that boob," he commanded as another moan escaped your lips, "slap harder!" and you did. "Pinch your nipple and pull it. Pull it you cock sucking bitch."

More wetness pooled at your core as you continued to play with your body. 

"Stop," said Mr Freezy's voice. At first you thought you misheard him and so you didn't.

"I said STOP YOU FUCKING BITCH," his shouts from the player sounded as clear as a bell. 

Startled, you brought yourself to a complete stop. Despite yourself, the sudden cessation left you feeling disappointed and hungry for more. "Pause this recording. Go to the full-length mirror in your room and have a good look at yourself," his voice urged you.

Meanwhile, Mr Freezy had come undone across the street, his thick release coating the neighbor's cotton panties. He sighed as he used the neighbor's brassiere to wipe himself clean. He was longing to get a taste of you. Too bad he had other things planned for you instead.

You ran towards your room, trying to hide your nakedness as much as you could. You didn't recognise the woman in the reflection. Hair astray, lips and cheeks slightly flushed, puffed breath, eyes wide and the hair on your mound glistening with your arousal. You couldn't bring yourself to meet your eyes reflected in the mirror. 

You carefully went downstairs, and resumed the cassette.

"Saw the slut in the mirror? That's who you are bitch. A whore for a man's cock. Don't let Ricky touch that filthy pussy again, or I will fill you with my cum infront of your Daddy while he watches," the cassette ended with the heavy threat.

🍦

You were living the worst life in 1969. Quite often, you came home to a new cassette with new instructions recorded on them. Everytime, the plastic box was filled with naked photographs of your previous lewd acts. Up until now, you had jumped naked in front of the window, placed ice on different parts of your body, deep-throated an ice-cream bar and stripped to a vulgar song. 

Tonight however, it was different. He had asked you to carry a bottle of wine (that he kept on your bed while you were gone) and go to a hotel at midnight. Mr Freezy had explicitly mentioned that you were to wear only your bra and panty. Still, you covered yourself with a long coat as you snuck out of the house.

The hotel, if you could call an almost crumbling building that, was in the notorious part of town. With your heart pounding in your throat, you shed your coat and knocked on the door. A large man answered, his smirk widening as he took in your appearance. "You Buffy's girl?" you nodded just as you had been instructed. The stranger pulled your breast and dragged you into the room. 

He smacked your ass as he grabbed the wine bottle with another, "Buffy always sends the best stuff."

He was swift in opening the bottle, chugging the liquid down as if it was water. You shuddered at the thoughts of what this man was capable of doing to you. Tears filled your eyes at the realisation.

The man looked at you and, without warning, shoved the glass bottle in your mouth. "Drink. I like it when my prostitutes are drunk." His gaze swept over your entire body. One second you were gulping down the foul liquid, the next you were gasping for breath as he pulled the cups of your bra and poured the liquid down your torso, "Let these girls drink too! Lets get hammered baby!" he exclaimed as he pulled the elastic band of your panty and poured the wine on your mound. 

He laughed maniacally as you squirmed in his grip. Drinking the last of the drops, he pulled you into his lap, licking and sucking at the wine currently following down your figure. 

Your protests only spurred him on, but it all lasted only for a few seconds. 

You felt the stranger's body seize with yours. Breath coming in harsh rasps, you felt your throat constricting as sharp pain shot in every nerve of your body. Your agony, along with the stranger's, lasted only for a few minutes as your shallow breaths became few, finally coming to a raggedy stop.

Mr Freezy smiled a lopsided grin into his binoculars. He hurried across the street, grabbing the girl's dead body and dumping it into his ice-cream truck.

He happily hummed when he saw the ice slowly creep up your skin. You see, this profession had turned Mr Freezy cold, inside out. To an extent where he despised the warmth of a pussy around his cock. He craved the cold. He craved you.

__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__

Taglist open! Just comment, send an ask or message!

[densi-mber]

Paramnesia

A/N: For today’s prompt. This particular scenario was suggested by @mashmaiden. Set in early season 4.

***

“Agent Blye?”

Kensi groaned, pushing at the hand tapping her shoulder.

“Agent Blye, can you hear me?” the voice said more insistently.

“Where am I?” she mumbled, just barely able to open her eyes. Even that made her head pound.

“You’re in the hospital, ma’am,” the man explained. “I’m Nurse Jackson. I noticed you were waking up a few minutes ago.” Kensi gave the barest of nods, becoming increasingly confused. She didn’t remember scheduling any procedure. Actually, she couldn’t remember much of anything.

“What happened to me?” Lifting her hand, she frowned at the needle inserted in the back of her hand.

“Your vehicle crashed and turned over in a ditch this morning. You suffered a head injury, but your doctor can tell you more about that when you’re a little more settled.”

“Am I going to die?” she asked, squinting up at the nurse. Something started beeping loudly and he gently grabbed her hand.

“No, ma’am, the injury was not that severe. Please calm down.” She tried to take a couple breaths, instinctually knowing that she wouldn’t like the results if she couldn’t calm down on her own. When the monitor stopped beeping, Nurse Jackson added, “Your partner will be back soon. He had to step away to make a call.”

“My partner,” she mumbled. She didn’t remember having a partner either.

“Yes, Marty Deeks. He brought you in.” He checked her IV, glancing at her a couple times. “I’m going give you a dose of pain medication and I’ll let your doctor now you’re awake.”

Laying back down, she tried to force herself to remember something, repeating the name Marty Deeks in her mind until she felt calmer. A few minutes later, the door opened again.

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re awake,” said the man who walked through. He was tall with messy blonde hair that curled around his ears and a wide mouth that was currently narrowed with worry. Kensi felt something flutter in the pit of her stomach at the sound of his voice. As he drew closer, she noticed some blood smeared across his forehead.

He hesitated for a moment and then bent to hug her, the fluttering feeling increased and she wrapped her free arm around his neck. This was obviously Marty. It felt good, comforting to be in his arms.

“The nurse said we were in an accident,” she said, pushing herself up higher in the bed. She must have guessed right that he was there too because he nodded, his expression turning worried once more.

“Yeah, you don’t remember it?”

“Some of my memories are a little foggy,” Kensi hedged. She grabbed his hand and his eyes flew down to their linked fingers. “But my head barely hurts.” That was a bald-faced lie. “Can you get me out of here?”

“I don’t know, the doctor-“

“Please, Marty.” He arched an eyebrow at that and he shook his head, allowing a tiny smirk.

“You’re super cute when you beg Kensalina, but I think they’ll want to keep you for a while for observation. It was a pretty bad crash.”

“I just want to go home.,” Kensi murmured, pressing his hand to her lips.

“Ok, yeah, wow. Apparently that TBI made you a lot more affectionate that usual,” he said, his cheeks flushing just a little. It was pretty adorable.

“What, I’m not always affectionate with my husband?” she teased, looking right up into his gorgeous blue eyes. It felt normal, easy, and took away some of her discomfort at having absolutely no idea who this guy was.

“Husband?” He chuckled, turning away slightly before he rubbed his jaw. “Ok, yes, I’m definitely your husband. I uh, I want to talk to your doctor...about getting you released. Don’t go anywhere.”

He returned about five minutes later with the doctor in tow. While Marty stood in the background, the doctor, who introduced herself as Doctor Martinez, gave Kensi an amnesia test. At first it took her longer than she was proud of to come up with the simple answers to questions about the date and time, but then they became progressively easier as more information returned to her.

She even started to remember more about Marty.

The only things she couldn’t seem to remember were what happened directly before and after the accident. Dr. Martinez didn’t seem particularly worried about that and since she didn’t ask any questions about her personal life, Kensi didn’t volunteer the information.

“So, what does this mean?” Deeks asked, rubbing at his bottom lip. Kensi had noticed he had a habit of running his fingers through his hair, which made it even messier.

At some point during the exam, he’d taken her hand again. She was grateful for the support and didn’t mind the feel of his warm fingers gripping hers. “Is Kensi going to be alright? Does she need to stay in the hospital?”

“I want to look at her CT scan again, but I think she should be alright to go home,” Dr. Martinez said. “As long as she has someone to watch her the first couple days and nights for any changes.”

“Marty will be with me,” Kensi said, glancing up at him with a small smile. His own smile looked kind of odd, but she didn’t worry about it too much. She trusted him.

“Well, in that case, I’ll be fine with releasing you. And Mr. Deeks, her memory should return in a few days to a couple weeks. It’s an encouraging sign that her amnesia is already resolving.”

“Babe, can you take care of the paperwork?” The words sounded a little strange coming from her mouth, but she shook it off. Everything felt a little strange right now. Marty didn’t immediately answer, so she touched his stomach lightly to get his attention. He jerked, his eyes widening in surprise. “You’ll take care of the paperwork, right?”

“Uh sure, I’ll get started on that,” he muttered. She tipped her chin up expectantly and after a moment of hesitation, he leaned in and kissed her forehead.

***

“So, uh, what exactly do you remember about us?” Deeks asked as casually as he could, flicking a quick look at Kensi. She was propped up in the passenger seat with a couple of pillows, but other than the small bandage at her hair line, she didn’t seem that much worse for wear.

Oh, except for the fact that she apparently thought they were married. He wasn’t sure what had led her to believe that were in a relationship at all, but he hadn’t figured out a way to break the truth to her yet.

“We work together,” she began slowly, looking at him for confirmation, “at NCIS.”

“That’s right.” At least that was a start. Maybe with enough gentle leading, she would realize the truth.

“We met when when we were both undercover at a gym. We didn’t get along very well at first, but then we started working as partners.” She paused and glanced at him, her smile turning reminiscent.

“I think you thought I was pretty annoying and kind of idiot when we first met,” Deeks said, smirking at his own expense. “Still do sometimes to be honest.”

“Mm, but I love you anyway,” Kensi commented drowsily, reaching across the consul to run her fingers over his cheek. A shiver ran down his spine at the simple touch combined with her soft, almost dreamy expression . He wasn’t used to her touching him this much when it wasn’t followed by a sarcastic comment or the promise of violence.

“Uh...here we’re are.” He pulled into her driveway, and parked, grabbing her bag from the back and then helping her out. When he offered her his arm, she wrapped her arm around his neck instead, obviously expecting him to pick her up.

After a little fumbling, he had one arm around her waist and the other under her knees. Kensi once again didn’t seem to notice his discomfort and laid her head on his shoulder, sighing.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“My head hurts,” she mumbled. “And my back is kind of sore too. Maybe you can rub it for me.”

“Sure.” Deeks huffed out a laugh. God, this was like all his dreams come true but in totally the wrong way. He used the spare house key Kensi had given him a couple years ago for emergencies and carried her straight to her bedroom.

Despite their usual lack of boundaries and the number of times he’d hung out at her apartment, he rarely set foot inside her room. It was an unspoken line that neither of them was willing to cross, a sign of intimacy, which was now being completely trampled.

He set her on the bed and then grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of sweats from a pile by the door. Before she could ask for help with changing, he told her,

“I’m gonna check in with Hetty and let her know how you’re doing.”

“But you’re not leaving, right?” She checked, grabbing for his hand.

“Of course not,” he assured her, crouching down in front of her. “What if you tripped over a pile of clothes on your way to get a late night snack? I’d never forgive myself.”

“Shut up. And I promised I clean up the mess this weekend,” she said, rolling her eyes. “As soon as we get a break from work.”

“Kensi, I’m not going to let you clean anything while you have a concussion.” He started to stand again, but Kensi leaned forward, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me.” She dipped her head and he didn’t move as she gently kissed him. It was just a brush of lips, less than the kiss they shared while undercover. Somehow it was so much more. Clearing his throat noisily, he untangled her arms, and rushed into the living room, not caring if Kensi thought it was strange.

He quickly updated Hetty on Kensi’s status. Hetty gave him the rest of the day off without him even asking with instructions to take good care of “Ms. Blye”. He felt a twinge of guilt at that, but didn’t mention anything about Kensi’s memory lapse. The team would figure that out soon enough.

When he hung up, he fixed Kensi a bowl of soup and a small sandwich, remembering she hadn’t eaten since early that morning.

“Hey, I made you some food.” he said quietly as he walked back into her room with a tray balanced on one hand. Kensi was curled up in bed looking way too soft and drowsy-eyed for her own good. “I couldn’t find any twinkies or peanut butter cups, so it’s just plain old tomato basil.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said. He didn’t think that was a particularly good sign, but set the food to the side and crouched in front of her again. Just to be at eye level, he told himself.

“Ok, do you need anything else?” Kensi slid a hand out from under the covers and clumsily cupped his cheek.

“Just you.”

***

A/N: I played this like Kensi was remembering some bits from when they were undercover in Neighborhood Watch. And yes, there will be a part 2.

As always, I am not a medical expert or professional. Although I do try to do some research, this is just for fun and there’s bound to be some mistakes.

[itsclydebitches]

Discredit Part Three! (Click on each pic for something resembling quality!) 

Part One---contains translations, podfic, and related works---Part Two

Tagging, credit, and transcript all below the cut 💜

First off, people who specifically asked to see more of this nonsense may God in all Her glory bless you accordingly: 

@internet-or-sleep, @just-some-girl-on-the-internet, @readytoocomply, @vocallsama, @fellowshipofthegay, @lucky-leafeon, @alph4centauri, @sumoranges, @diaphanedreams 

Aziraphale’s profile pic is courtesy of good old Neil, found here. All others are from Creative Commons. 

Sorry it took so long to produce more stupidity. YOU ALL ROCK  🎊🎊🎊 Here, have a messy transcript. 

Abdou G. 

Have you ever walked in on a conversation and, despite clearly missing the majority of it, feel like you could reconstruct it, word for word if necessary? That happened at Fell’s today. The ‘talk’ had obviously been going on for a while, but I can give you a perfect summary here: rude fuckboy thinks he gets to say who God is, Fell was having none of it.

Best response? Turn around, walk back to your apartment (pro-tip: this only works if you’re just a few blocks away), and change your shirt. I walked back in with my I MET GOD, SHE’S BLACK tee and had the pleasure of seeing Fell do a double-take.

“Yes, thank you, that’s what I’ve been trying to say!”

***

Doug E. 

Scout’s honor: I once saw that Crowley dude unhinge his jaw and eat a large pizza in one goddamn bite.

Update: you heathens read about this gay abomination with his dislocated jaw and what you decide to question is whether I was acTUALLY A SCOUT? 

***

Mary L. 

I came in with my four-year-old last week fully intending to keep him within sight at all times. Yes, I bought one of those kiddie leashes and no, I don’t regret a thing. You try holding down two jobs as a single mom to the bonefide antichrist. I love my boy, but the devil got to him, telling him things like, “Yes, Freddie, permanent marker would look just great on Mum’s only work jacket!”

I said as much to the owner because this mom needs to vent sometimes.  

I wish I could give this place a higher rating, but the ownership is frankly terrible. Inconsistent hours, no help when you’re trying to find a book, just basically all around bad customer service, BUT it still gets five stars because when I told the guy I was raising the antichrist?

“Oh yes. I did that myself not too long ago!”

We parents need to support one another. Otherwise the world is going to burn. So here’s a good review for you, Mr. Bookshop Guy. A part of me hopes you’re a better dad than you are a bookseller. The other part? The bigger part? It’s very aware that Ms. Pot here just met Mr. Kettle.

Now if you’ll excuse me, Freddie just got into the flour.

***

Alfred B.

I hereby nominate Mr. Fell as the British Steve Irwin. I’ve never seen anyone handle a red bellied black snake like that. I mean yeah, they’re a chill species overall, but there’s a difference between casually handling a snake and fucking chucking one onto the chair because it’s in your way. (Okay. Maybe Irwin was a little nicer.) 

Renee K. 

whos steve irwin?

Alfred B. 

...How old are you?

Renee K. 

15

Alfred B. 

You existed on this planet for two years with him and you dare to ask me this? Go boil your head and then use google. Good god.

***

Mark F. 

overheard the owner telling his boyfriend that last they met his brother tried to set him on fire? and succeeded?? actually now that I think about it, not sure which brother they were talking about---his brother or boyfriend’s brother--but WHOEVER has the brother needs to... i don’t even know. do something about that? ring the police or go to therapy or SOMETHING. i mean maybe they already have, i’m just an eavesdropping tourist, but the idea of someone setting that bow-tie cutie on fire—DID I MENTION THAT? PERSON ARSON. MURDER—makes my blood boil

***

Shiefa N. 

People aren’t joking about overhearing weird conversations here. I walked in on two men (owner and husband? owner and escort?) debating Seven Minutes in Heaven. You know, that stupid kissing game the better looking kids got to play in middle school. It got pretty heated at one point (pun not intended), arguing about whether seven minutes of making out was divine or damning behavior. I hung out long enough to catch the segue into a lust vs. love debate and then had to skedaddle. Nice couple. I support their weird flirting habits.

***

Chang Z. 

Is it legal to visit a store for things other then what it sells? I realize that makes me sound druggie or something but I swear I’m dealing with a much healthier addiction. (Ha. Maybe.) I cosplay (yeah, yeah, move along, trolls) and Mr. Fell has an absolute wealth of historical clothing. It’s astounding! I thought they were particularly detailed costumes at first, but no. I’m majoring in Textile and Apparel Studies. I know a naturally worn piece of fabric when I see it. Mr. Fell is always cracking jokes about how he wore this frock in the 19th century, this shirt in the 17th, oh don’t you just love my old vest? (He has... so many vests...) I indulge him because anyone who lets me borrow this stuff for free deserves all my attention and fake laughter.

Yeah. You read right. Artifacts borrowed for free. He’s even let me alter some of the stuff because I’m not exactly his size. Should this stuff be in a museum somewhere? Probably. Am I calling anyone to take my personal cosplay supply away? Noooope.

***

Leah M. 

Helping to spread the word here because I’m not sure how much foot traffic this place actually gets.

I pass Fell’s every morning on my way to work and yesterday there was a new sign in the window. This might not seem very interesting to most people on here, but you’ve got to understand that Fell’s never changes. None of it. I’ve lived in Soho since I was a boy and this place has always had the same placard with his insane times listed, same stripped paint on the door he’s never gotten around to fixing, same spiderweb in the corner I absolutely swear. My dad used to pop in there when he was in college and I swear he’s taken me through the stacks, points out books that haven’t moved in 30+ years. It’s nuts and more than a little bit impressive.

So you can imagine my shock when I passed by and saw not one, but four new papers in the front window. They’re drawings and I recommend going and taking a look for yourself. I don’t think I can accurately describe the utter chaos of crayons and glitter that’s displayed there, let alone what it’s trying to depict. A dystopia? The end of the world? If so the apocalypse features a surprising number of dogs.

There’s a fifth paper off to the side, written in Fell’s messy penmanship. It just says, “My god-children drew these!” and if that’s not the cutest things you’ve ever heard get out of my face.

***

Gabriel A. 

azirfell

alzaphral

azzzzzirafal

i’m a litttle drunk but azifjkaafha’s place is good he just needs a name easier to spell

***

Aziraphale 

Dear Gabriel A,

My partner Crowley told me about this site and the many lovely well-wishes you all have left us here. I have come to express my thanks and to offer a bit of advice. You are hardly the first person to struggle with my name, dear girl! I recommend the following three step process:

A - simple, yes? + zira - a nickname I’ve adopted over the years, easy enough to recall + phale - this is admittedly more difficult as our ending, “phale,” is neither spelled in a way nor presumed to be pronounced like the “fell” sound we end up with. In truth my name is more along the lines of Azz-ear-raf-AE-el, but change is inevitable and you needn’t hear about that transformation, nor the etymology involved in getting “fell” out of “phale.” I say this not because I don’t wish to teach you, but because my partner has reminded me--in a rather rude tone I should add--that this site has a word limit. Suffice to say you should simply memorize the “phale” portion and you shall be, as the expression goes, in tip top shape!

Best regards,

Aziraphale

P.S. Nothing personal, dear boy, but I fear I’m not terribly fond of your name either. I would highly recommend changing it if you’re ever of a mind to do so. Cheerio!

[kirstinlm]

how a heart melts

by embracedself

fandom: Supergirl

ship: SuperCorp

set in a world where Kara is sure that Lena hates her.

Lena is sure that the reporter is uninterested.

Here's how that turned out.

read it on ao3 here.

It wasn't like Kara necessarily hated Lena Luthor. No, she actually quite admired the startup CEO. Thing was, she was pretty sure that Lena Luthor hated her. Every single time that Kara's boss, Snapper Carr, forced Kara over to Lena's office (L-Corp) to interview, Lena seemed red and uncertain what to say. Maybe she was just nervous, but that was definitely not the feeling Kara got from it. Even when Kara began to speak to Lena, tentatively like she was a mouse squeaking up to a cat, Lena would mimic her stutter, or perhaps she was simply nervous herself. But that was a ridiculous thought for the Ice Queen herself. She would never get nervous over a mouse like Kara Danvers.

This time, however, when Snapper demanded that Kara go over to the L-Corp building and get a quote about Lena's new prototypes of watches --- they were deemed Hopeful, as if it were helpful but....with a twist. Rao, Kara hoped she wouldn't stammer that way in front of Lena. Last thing she needed was to make Lena's product seem dumb to Lena herself. Anyway, back to the watch. Ms. Luthor had managed to get the watch that talked back to you, like a Siri, but without all the corporate stealing your data and Google trying to sneak into your thoughts and anticipate your next move. Hope was, simply put, a helpful voice who would do a number of things for you.

That was stuff she could tell Lena right? Talking up her product like that wouldn't be offensive to her, surely. Even if it did sound rather....picturesque for a reporter. In Kara's defense, she was still new at this part. Oh, maybe THAT'S why Lena hated her so much! Because CatCo kept sending the rookie to meet with her. Oh, it all made so much more sense now. Hopefully, and that was a big hope she had there, if that was all the problem was, then it wasn't with Kara herself. Kara hadn't somehow offended the pretty lady who was a multimillionaire with connections everywhere. Lena could RUIN Kara if she misstepped.

Gulping now, Kara went into the office where she saw Jess, L-Corp and Lena's personal secretary. "Hello Ms Haung, I'm uh, I'm here to see Ms Luthor again?" It came out like a question. Kara immediately winced. "With CatCo." She coughed out. "I have an appointment---" she promised.

"I know, Kara. Not to worry, Ms Luthor is ready to see you now." Jess interrupted with a kinder smile than what Kara was expecting. "By the by, how are you enjoying all of the fl---" This time it was Jess who got interrupted. By Ms Luthor herself.

"Ms Danvers," Oh, there was none of the stuttering today. Just a polite smile, one that showed all of Lena's teeth. Maybe it was a little offputting. Maybe it was more than a little. Okay, so Kara needed to get a grip. "How lovely for you to join us again." She nodded towards her office, indicating that Kara should follow.

Complying immediately, Kara gave Lena her best smile. "Thank you for having me again." She managed not to stutter as well. Rather proud of that, yes, but well, it was deserved. She didn't need to be made a fool of again in front of a beautiful woman. That's just --- cruel.

"I assume you're here to discuss Hope, today. Unless...." Kara nodded before Lena could finish the sentence. "Yes Ms Luthor, sure am!" She beamed up at the woman, only to see Lena's face falling. Just for a split second, and then she was professional once more. Kara wondered how she'd mucked up this time.

"Great." It was a singular word, so how the heck did it have that much force behind it? To be fair, Kara supposed the woman saying it was a force to be reckoned with as well. Ms Lena "Never stand behind a man" Luthor. L-Corp was way too amateaur for Lena's capabilities, but Kara was not going to say that. Kara was not going to say anything else wrong. She wouldn't!

"So what made you decide to make Hope in the first place?" Kara pulled out her notepad and sat, only once Lena did the same.

"My mother, actually. My biological one, make sure you clarify that." Lena corrected herself. Kara nodded, making a show of writing it down. Lena cracked a smile before sobering up. "As I'm sure most of CatCo by now knows, I've been recently reunited with Mum in the first place." She bit her lip and Kara had only a second to wonder what that would taste like if she did the same before Lena was speaking again. "If I had been wearing a Hope watch on, or if she had, we could have found each other faster. Never been separated at all ---" She broke off. "When I finally did find my mother, it was not before she'd had a fall in her tub."

Kara looked up sympathetically, wondering how she would have felt if Eliza fell. "I just want to make the world as safe a place as posible, especially after what Lex did." Lena shrugged quitely. "Can't you understand that?"

"Can't imagine if my mum lost her footing whilst she was in the shower. I'm glad yours is okay." Kara said gently. "Mine wears Hope now as well." She offered.

"I'm honoured, though I hope she never has to use it for that kind of thing." Lena responded genuinely. It was the longest conversation they'd had without being stuttery and nervous (angry?)

"So um, I take it this wasn't a plot to overthrow Google and the other companies?" Kara quirked a smile at Lena.

"Definitely not. Just wanted some safety for my mum." Lena agreed softly. Kara nodded, writing that down on her pad as well.

"Do you have any other questions for me, Ms Danvers?" Lena asked formally at last.

"No Ms Luthor, just about done here." She promised, writing down the last few notes she'd wanted to put in her article. "The article should be up on CatCo's site tomorrow, and come out with the newspaper on the next day." Kara added. "Assuming Snapper doesn't call it too biased."

"Biased?" Lena raised an eyebrow. Shoot. What had Kara done?

"Oh, um. You know, because I like you so much!" Kara blurted. "I mean--- your work! It's fantastic. And I'm so happy you got reunited with your mum, I'd kill to be with mine again, and---"

Kara was cut off with a shaking hand placed on her arm. When she looked, it was Lena's. Her eyes were softer than she'd ever seen.

Impossibly green. Beautiful in a way that Kara had only noticed in her dreams. And now they were getting...closer to her face. Scrutinizing her.

"You said you like me." Lena whispered. It didn't sound like she was opposed to the idea, merely in disbelief. "You like me?" She repeated as a question when Kara said nothing, too afraid to voice her feelings.

Kara nodded fearfully. "Listen, I know you probably think it's insane. And you probably hate the idea, I mean I hate it too, sometimes." Kara said in a rush. "But even when you're mocking my stuttering, or saying things that are kinda hurtful like.... well it doesn't matter.... but anyway I promise I'll stop coming by! I won't let Snapper deter me from having an opinion on the matter this time, I promise!" She said with wide eyes.

"Wait a second." Lena spoke in a wondrous voice. She was still looking at Kara as if she were Santa Claus. "You think I hate you?"

"I mean..... I'm not sure what the right answer is here." Kara confessed.

"An-and that when I start to stutter, that I'm mocking you?" Lena looked crestfallen. But dawning was starting to show in her eyes, and Kara definitely liked the way it made them glow.

Kara nodded nervously. "I'm sorry. Have I got everything wrong?" She asked, her eyes nervously following Lena's fingers as they began to wring anxiously.

"Uh, yeah." Lena nodded affirmatively. "Very wrong. So wrong. I'm like..... in awe of how spectacularly wrong we've both been." Kara looked up at her, confusion glittering in blue eyes.

"What do you mean?" Kara asked at last.

"I am in love with you, Kara Danvers." Lena stated in a serious voice. "And I have been ever since you first walked into the office with your cousin and you weren't even a reporter yet, you were just convinced in my goodness. How could I not love you? I'm always so nervous around you that I can't help but get shy and stutter, or say the wrong things. I just want to impress you, Kara. That's why I sent all those flowers--- and then you just... ignored them, so I thought, fine, she's not interested. It's no big deal. But now you say you like me and I'm...."

Kara cut her off by very literally launching herself over Lena's desk and kissing the ravenette. It was a mistake and one that they'd both paid dearly for, but they had a lot of missed time to make up for. She slid off the other side of Lena's desk, crawling into her lap as Lena pulled her even closer, they were sharing the same breath when Kara finally pulled away for clarification. "You sent me flowers." She asked, running a finger over Lena's lips. "And you thought I ignored them. I never--- I didn't get any."

Lena looked both crestfallen and relieved at the very same time, and also just a little like she'd been thoroughly ravished. "You didn't get them."

"No. I assure you, I would have noticed them." Kara promised, stealing another, slow and serious kiss as she wrapped her hands around Lena's neck.

"I sent them to Ms Kara Danvers..... at CatCo." Lena looked confused, but when she received the second kiss she relaxed into it.

"The entire office only recognises me as Kiera. They probably, uh, they probably got thrown out when no one realised it was me." Kara confessed. "It's an issue I'm working through."

Lena let out a soft laugh, looking relieved. "Well then, KARA Danvers.... I'd like to treat you to lunch. Maybe have some more kisses too." She bit her lip. "Is that something you're interested in?"

"Very much so." Kara promised. "And I'd like to take you out for dinner. And give you a lot more kisses then, too." Kara murmured as she pressed kiss after kiss on Lena's face, all over the adorable, blushing cheeks.

"I like the sound of that." Lena admitted. "Maybe I can meet.....whoever is in your life."

"As long as I can meet your mum." Kara hummed. Lena arched her neck.

"But first, we have some time to make up for."

[captaindarkchocolatesstuff]

Yandere Witch! Tooru Oikawa x Lesser Witch! Reader

[Warnings: Does shoving a bloody rose petal into someone’s mouth count as a warning? Idk, one vry jealous Oikawa]

To be an all-powerful witch also meant being a well-known one. It came with the title of “Grand Witch”.

Though Tooru couldn’t help but hold a distaste towards two other witches, one in the same ranking as himself (maybe even higher) and one still learning to grasp their potential. 

Then he met you, a witch with no coven or any sort of special magic that made you unique, in fact, you were pretty weak for a witch. You could only shapeshift into a single animal (a bunny), and the only spell you ever used was summoning a gust of wind that couldn’t even push an averaged weighted person down since your mana was pretty low. Yet you were comfortable being the way you were with your only talent of making various positions and somehow gathering the company of animals.

To Tooru, it felt like you were meant to meet each other somehow. He was crowded outside the mansion where a meeting of all witch covens took place, most were young women surrounding him and the majority were witch apprentices or novice witches themselves, with a few masterful witches here and there.

He felt his patience running low until you came through the crowd, shoving your way through to get to the mansion and unknowingly shoving him aside, to say he was surprised was an understatement. 

The witches screeched at you, “Hey! What’s the big idea! How dare you shove a great Grand Witch like Oikawa away like that!”

You turned to look at them with a scowl and raised a brow, “Oi-what now? Hmph”, your eyes land on him as soon as he moves to readjust himself from your abrupt shove.

“I’m Oikawa, Oikawa Tooru the great Grand Witch of the Aoba Johsai coven Ms….”, Tooru trails off as he waits for your introduction after revealing himself.

Instead, he is met with your indifferent shrug and curt greeting, “(L/n) (Y/n), the covenless witch…”, you then snapped your attention to the surrounding witches, “as for you lot I say you scram, you’re bothering the others that are trying to get in the mansion, your behavior is awfully rude and bothersome to the witches that came here to get what they need”, you huff before entering the estate and slamming the door shut on their faces before they could say anything.

While many of the ladies were huffing and pouting about your brief entrance and hasty exit, Tooru stood there as if in a trance, drawn to your being as you tried to distance yourself from other witches.

That was how he was able to learn your level without having to creep about, because of his persistence you reluctantly let the Grand Witch intrude on your life and daily business. Tooru admits that while your magic as a witch was very weak (almost… pathetic to put it nicely), your skills as a potion maker were exceptional, it surpassed that of the Grand Ushiwaka and other grand witches, himself included.

And that is what bothered him, he hated the Grand Ushiwaka enough as it is but for that witch to have a developing interest in you...made him loath the grand witch. He found you first, he spent more time with you than he did, so it was only right that he should have all of your attention.      

“Oikawa, please remove your presence from within my area, you’re distracting me”, you bluntly state.

“Uwah! (Y/n), I thought we built something special!!”, he pouts as he leaned his body against your own.

Grunting at the action you stomp your foot on his making him yowl in pain as you shove him away from you as you glared down at him, “It was more like you kept intruding on my daily activities, now leave me be I have a potion that I am working on”

“So cruel (Y/n)! Eh- wait what potion are you working on anyway?”, Tooru stands before peering over your shoulder.

“A love potion, a woman from a nearby town wouldn’t stop pestering me about her love life and begged me to make her something so she can receive the love of a man she has her eyes for, to make her stop I decided to do just that”, you dully explain as you huff. 

Tooru blinked, “Love...potion?”, he said out loud, more so to himself rather than to you. It suddenly clicked in Tooru’s mind that maybe he could use that same potion or something stronger.

When you looked back at the grand high witch, you saw him lost in thought his eyes glazed over before snapping his attention to you, he smiled before straightening up and bowing suddenly, “Ah~ I just remembered I had something to do, I’ll see you around some other time my little witch~!”, he purred before taking his leave.

You stared at his back as he left before sighing and getting back to work, but you couldn’t help that tingling feeling that something was amiss.

What clicked in Tooru’s mind was a spell, potions were never long-lasting and it is likely that any potions that he would make would not work on you since you were more resistant, but spells on the other hand could last an eternity. You were not resistant to spell casting, it was merely the potions that you made that you gave yourself that made you a little bit resistant to weaker spells.

So Tooru searched his coven estate’s library, making sure that no one would disturb his search, but as time passed his patience began to chip away, with a growl, Tooru shoved the book in his hands back into the shelf so harshly a book fell beside him. Now on most occasions, he would shrug it off but the dusty cover certainly held his attention, with a contemplative hum Tooru picked it up before dusting it off.

As he opened it he lifted a curious brow at the spells that were there, they were complex but not difficult to do, as he turned the pages he couldn’t help but be fascinated with the many spells that were long forgotten. With more enthusiasm, he flipped page after page to find what he searched for until finally, he found it.

With a breathless laugh and growing grin, he spoke, “Now… let’s get to work”.

~~~

You took Tooru’s absence as a chance to catch up with all the things you missed, like hanging out with your friends and setting up events that required your attention. 

As you put some books away you hear someone call out to you, “(L/n)”.

Turning you see the Grand witch of Shiratorizawa, with a hum you briefly sigh, “Ushijima, what can I do for you?”, you ask as you go back to shelving the books.

“I was… I was wondering if you could assist me in making a certain potion”, he says, making you pause, raising a brow, you look over your shoulder, “What Kind of potion exactly?”, you ask.

“One able to reverse a spell that turns an individual into an animal”, he states, you suddenly grin at the familiar request.

“I’m assuming that Goshiki turned himself into an animal again, didn’t he”, you chuckle as you turned towards the witch, a knowing grin on your face as Wakatoshi gave you his usual blank stare before his eyes darted to the side.

“Yes, he still has trouble with his spells, yet his potion crafting has been improving”, he says. “Of course it has, I’ve been tutoring him whenever he came to me with his problems, now here”, you say as you reach into the pouch tied to your belt and bring out a peach vial.

The Grand witch took it as he looked at you with narrowed eyes, if you didn’t know how to read the man you would’ve thought he was glaring at you, so you smiled, “It’s to reverse him back to his humane state, I always have one on me knowing how the newer witches get”.

Wakatoshi nodded before giving you one last glance, “Would you mind teaching me sometime in the future”, he asked.

You blinked before smiling, “I wouldn’t mind”, with that he was gone, his behavior never failed to amuse you.

Then you felt arms wrap around you, “You know I hate it when you’re around Ushiwaka (Y/n), are you trying to make me jealous?”, Tooru’s voice hummed in your ear. Yet you couldn’t help but sense an undertone not too pleasant, still, you shrugged him off as you turned to face him.

“I thought I told you to stop doing that Oikawa”, you frown. You almost froze when you saw a look in his eyes, one that you couldn’t catch onto quick enough before it left him, yet it left you unsettled before he spoke.

“(Y/n), would you mind stopping by at my coven’s garden, I think I found a new species of flowers but I wanted your professional input”, Oikawa hums, grinning when he sees that your eyes narrowed at him, “Cheekmate”.

~~~

Honestly, you should’ve listened to your prior intuition, maybe then you wouldn’t have ended up in this mess with the head of the Aoba Johsai coven.

After arriving at his coven he did indeed lead you to the garden and you saw a ritualistic set up instead, candles and rose petals  strewn about. Turning to Tooru you glared at the man.

“What exactly are you trying to do here Oikawa”, you growled, more irritated at the fact that you could’ve been up in your cabin working on potions instead of wasting time, and as usual Tooru gave you his charming smile but when he opened his eyes a jolt of fear struck you.

“Ah, right, you see at first I was alright just basking in your presence, getting to be around you for the majority of the days until I grew a little too attached to you little witch”, he purred as you stepped back, trying to distance yourself from any oncoming danger until he lashed out his hand to grip your jaw harshly.

As you cried out at the sudden pain he continued, “Oh witchy you really don’t know what you do to me, did you know how much you drew me in? You're such a cruel little tease and it was all fun while it lasted but…”, his dead stare made you shiver as you gripped his wrist that was clamped painfully around your jaw, you squeezed your eyes shut and flinched when he suddenly leaned down close to your ear, “I really meant it when I said I hated seeing that damned Ushiwaka near you, and I would’ve let it go if it weren’t for the fact that you let him near you”, he hissed.

With gritted teeth you tried kicking out at him and clawing at his face in desperation to get out of his grasp, all while he was chanting a spell, one you weren’t familiar with and only heard of this time but yet you knew something was terribly wrong. The smell of iron hit your nose as the candle lights around you flickered until the flames turned purple, tugging desperately at Tooru’s arm you he suddenly slammed his lips upon yours, taking advantage of your surprised yelp he shoved his tongue in your mouth and that’s when it hit you.

The taste of iron hit your tongue before you felt the texture of a rose petal, and as Tooru forced you to consume the bloody petal he pulled away and whispered into your ear while what felt like a painful inferno erupted throughout your entire body.

“...and even in death we shall never part, for our souls are now one”.

As the now red moon shined upon the earth, an agonized scream rang throughout the sky.

[aen-maggs]

YOUR MESS IS MINE - Chapter 1

It was not a large crowd, but there was only so much space in the Southside Ballroom after the ring and the ramp was set up. Still, it was a larger crowd than I had seen in a long time. My hands were stinging and my knuckles were bloodied, but it didn't bother me. I was feeling something, even if it was for a short time. I was in one of the back stage rooms and trying to clean up. I could hear the cheers in the front room, and I closed my eyes trying to focus on that white noise. Once I let out my "little demon", I had to get her back in the box.  I felt my rage slide back into that place in my brain and I gritted my teeth and looked in the mirror. That might be the start of a shiner on my left eye.  Cool.

My hair had gone prematurely gray a year ago, so I had dyed it jet black. It was a mess after the match, with strands coming out at all angles from its braid. I turned the water off in the sink and I tried some relaxed breathing to help flush the adrenaline from my system. It had been an intergender match, and there was becoming more of a call for men against women lately. My opponent, Denny, had been tougher than most guys I had fought. Denny, also known as Dallas West, was a big guy at 6 foot 2 compared to my 5 foot 3. He didn't mind doing the job for me because I never pulled punches and never did anything fake. My hits were real, and I expected the same from my opponents. In the end, he was glad to put on a good show with someone he respected.  Even if it had been a while since I had been in the circuit.

There was a darker side to me, and one that I was very careful with.  My "little demon" craved the pain, and I was never sure what we enjoyed more.  There was something special about the crunch of my fist hitting someone's face, but feeling the bumps and scrapes made me feel alive in ways I didn't most of the time. It was not something I was proud of, and in some ways I felt ashamed by it.

My long ago past had been pretty crazy, but in the last year or two, I worked to keep myself as even kilter as possible.  Sure, I could be a regular woman by day. People were more likely to take me serious if I was acting stable, so I work to keep the crazy under wraps. Business attire by day, caged animal at night.

I opened my eyes feeling myself return to the fine upstanding citizen I liked to project. Grabbing a towel, I sensed I was no longer alone. Drying my hands I looked up to see a familiar face. Not that I knew the guy, but he was certainly recognizable even dressed down as he was. His glass blue eyes shined, his stark blonde hair blazed in the darkened room, and his Cheshire Cat grin was unmistakable.

"Good evening, Mr. Rhodes." I said politely with a smirk.

"And a good evening to you, Ms. Kelly. That was one hell of a match out there."

I tossed the towel down, picked up my bag and smirked at him. "I appreciate that, but Denny has a way of making people look good."

Cody shrugged. "I've seen other videos of you. There are some of your European tour around two years ago. More from five years ago when you toured the states and Mexico. It's impressive."

I shrugged. "Well, a lot of people can catch some of that stuff on YouTube. I'm just now kind of getting back in after a small hiatus. It has been a little harder to catch attention now that there are more female wrestlers getting the spotlight. It's nice that some people are seeing some stuff I've done." I stood there attempting to make it look like I wanted to walk out, but I could tell Rhodes wasn't going to move out of my way. In fact, he stepped into the room, moving closer to the lockers and leaned against them.

Running a hand across his jaw and scratching what seem to be a tiny bit of stubble on his face, he smiled at me. "Do you have any idea why am here?" he asked.

"I'm guessing it has something to do with that company you got started a while ago."

Cody grinned. "So, you have heard of us. What do you think?"

I put my bag down realizing that we were in for an actual talk. I wasn't opposed to the man. It was more of a guarded feeling I had. Too many times have I seen people that I respected in the business get picked up off an independent circuit and then molded into something they weren't. Cody Rhodes had a reputation for being different, but I didn't have the connections I once had to find out for sure.

"Well, I haven't seen a whole lot of my kind of style in your women's division. Your Japanese  headliners are  awesome and you have some amazing talents. But, I am a hardcore queen. Pure brawler style. I am a very much a supporter of inter gender matches and tag matches. You guys don't do that." I said with a blunt edge to my voice.

"Yeah, well, in the beginning we weren't really sure what we wanted. There were some that felt we needed to keep the inter gender matches off the shows and even others that wanted us to limit the blood when it came to the women's division.  Now, with a year under our belts and the new outlook we have brought to fans, we have more people wanting those back alley bar fight matches.  There is also more people wanting to see women go up against some of the men, and a lot of our guys are open to it.  A couple of them you have already worked with." Cody said.

"I know who is on your roster.  You don't have to give me the run down."  I said a little louder than I had intended.  The issue for me was there was a few people, and one in particular, I was not on good terms with.  When I walked out on wrestling, I had walked out on several friends and relationships in order to get my life in order. 

"Ah, well, we all have ghosts, Kit." Cody said softly and his face gave way to an expression of regret.  There was a heavy silence that fell on the room, and I heard a bang from some pyro for the last match.

"Well, are you going to make it to the point of your visit?" I asked.  Cody seemed to shake it off and slid a hand into his jacket.  Pulling out a thick brown envelope, he said "This is not a contract.  It is an offer of temporary employment to determine if we have a permanent place for you with our family.  Come and work out with us, do some dark matches, make some connections.  Get back into the business and let's see what happens." 

He held this envelope out to me.  My impulse to take it was strong, but my body didn't move.  He smiled and set it down on the bench.

"I am not going to change your name.  I am not going to change who you are.  No one is.  We want Kit Kelly - whoever she is right now, and we hope to be a part of whoever she is in the future.  Where we go from here is up to you.  Read it.  Think on it.  If you sign, I will see you in San Antonio Monday morning.  We have a show coming up and some of us got in early."  He turned and began walking down the hall whistling as he went.

"Jesus." I whispered to myself.