#so many people who wear heels come into that store but she knew who it was without looking

[waverlyyhaught]

Favorite Marta and Fina Moments - Part 50 Sueños de Libertad, Ep. 69

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2023: 10-Defeated

Damian sat at his desk and briefly scanned the files of the new departments he was overlooking. One of them was the art department, which he was greatful for. The only thing that bothered him was the fashion department. He didn't agree that it was art. It was business. Clothing was a necessity, not a luxury. Clothes could be sold in stores. Art was meant to be displayed and shared. The Wayne heir scanned the file again.

'Head of fashion department was listed as Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I'm sure I can get rid of her and move the department. Nothing will get in Damian Al Ghul-Wayne's way.'

The Wayne heir approached the fashion department. He saw the office door open and observed the inside. There was a small woman with blue hair drawing on a tablet. He could see a gown forming under the movement of her stylus. Damian stood tall as he knocked on the open office door, but she never turned around.

'Brat.'

"Miss Dupain-Cheng!" he shouted.

To his surprise, the designer slammed her hand down on her desk and glared at him.

"You made me mess up." she snarled, "Who the fuck so you think you are to come in here and bother me?"

This wasn't the type of meeting he had been expecting at all.

"Damian Wayne." he answered, not use to people glaring at him, "I wanted to inform you that I will personally be keeping an eye on the department and see if it's truly necessary."

"Fine." Marinette snapped, "There's the door. I'm busy; you can show yourself out."

Marinette turned back to her tablet and began ignoring him, again. Damian couldn't believe that she didn't get scared by his name. She talked back to him! Damian walked out and slammed the office door.

'What a horrible person. I'm not just gonna get rid of her; I'm gonna fire her entire department! I'll just exploit her weaknesses and show that she's incompitent at her job.'

Marinette had noticed that Damian taking to lurking around her department. He had inserted himself into meetings and questioned everything: Is what you're buying necessary? How could it help Wayne Enterprise? Why did you choose this fabric? Why this shade? Why not vermouth?

It had been six months and she was ready to punch him. Mari had heard rumors that he was starting to neglect other departments he was covering. She couldn't understand his fascination and distaste for hers. After another grueling meeting, everything came to a head.

"Miss Dupain-Cheng, I highly suggest rereading the code of conduct." Damian stated, in front of the entire department.

Marinette could feel everyone's eyes on her, "And what have I done now, Mr. Wayne? I don't believe 'bow down' is a rule."

"Your behavior and attire are innapropriate in the work place." Damian commented, irked that she still went against his authority.

"Excuse me?" Mari shouted, "I am completely professional!"

Damian snorted, "You regularly seduce your staff."

"I wish." someone whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Mr. Wayne," Marinette spoke, "please, tell me how my business attire is innapropriate so that I may correct it."

Marinette knew she had him this time. She still made all her own clothing and inspected them the day before for any rip or loose seams. She wore button up blouses with short sleeves and a blazer. She made sure to wear pants as she didn't want to kneel in a skirt. Was this about her heels? Sure she didn't wear four inches like everyone else; she preferred something that was easy to move in. Especially if something had gone wrong and she needed to hurry to the other sde of Wayne Enterprise.

Damian's eyes roamed over Marinette. Her clothes were the same as they had been for the last six months, they hugged her curves. When she took off her blazer, he could see how her neck curved, especially when her hair was puled up in a messy bun or ponytail. He had seen her hair that way, too many times, when she was busy designing. Not to mention how her pants accentuated her when she yelled at an employee for ordering the wrong fabric. Those stupid tops that she crossed her arms under her chest when someone contradicted her.

"Well, Mr. Wayne." Marinette called out, "I'm waiting. Tell me which part of my outfit is the problem, right now. I'm buttoned up and tucked in. My pants go all the way down to my ankles or are my ankles distracting someone? I certainly can't be distracting someone with a foot fetish, as I don't wear anything open-toed. There are many more employees, here at Wayne Enterprise, that dress provocative."

"Are you sure?" the Wayne heir questioned.

"I can name five ladies on this floor alone!" Marinette growled, "Two are wearing corsets with a blazer. Another is in a mini skirt and if she sits, you can see the garter straps. Another is wearing the same outfit as yesterday and reeks of cigarettes, sweat, nd bad cologne. The last one is wearing last seasons Belmere cocktail dress with tulle bishop sleeves! Thy are sewing a collection and if that sleeve gets caught, we have to destroy that fabric and her sleeves will be ripped off. I am not losing product because someone decided to be stupid this morning, Carol!"

Marinette glared at Damian Wayne, "So, tell me how innapropriate I am or you can fuck off!"

"The clothes you wear demean you and suggest you are welcoming others to join you for a night." Damian stated.

Marinette felt all the rage bubble over and she punched him in the face, sending him across the floor.

"I quit!" she snarled.

Damian looked on as Marinette walked away.

'I won.'

What he didn't expect were the not so hushed whispers of the fashion department.

"I think Mr. Wayne had a crush on her."

"I wish she would seduce me."

"You and me both."

"Apparently, she was very popular in Paris with both genders."

"Wait, what?"

"Really?"

"I heard she dated Jagged Stone's only son."

"Wasn't Adrien Agreste trying to date her?"

"So was Zoe Lee."

"The actress!"

"Mmhmm and she's the second daughter of Style Queen."

"Damn! Why is she here then?"

"She could have gone with one of them and likely inherited a fashion label!"

"Marinette always yells at us when we dress innapropriate."

"Carol."

"I pushed my sleeves up, okay!"

"I think she wrote this years dress code herself."

"I wish that I could see what Mr. Wayne saw."

"Why?"

"Are you kidding me? Stuck up Dupain-Cheng as some sexy thing and not yelling a us? Talk about a perfect fantasy!"

Damian sat there blushing as the employees talked amongst themselves.

'Did no one really see what I saw? They hadn't seen the way her clothes accentuated her? They didn't see the way her body called out to others? Was I the only one who wanted to pin her down to gain control?'

Damian stood up, admitting defeat. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the person who irked him for months, hadn't been at war with him or seducing him; he liked her. He couldn't tell until the evidence was stacked against him. As the other employees said, she didn't even need to be there. She could marry into money, likely immediately, and run a corporation against them.

'She's not going to get away from me that easily.'

By the time Damian found Marinette, Tim was already on his knees begging her to stay and his father was apologizing about his attitude.

"I can personally guarantee that Damian will be moved departments and you never have to see him again." his own father pleaded.

Tim noticed Damian out of the corner of his eye and stood up.

"You!" Tim shouted, stalking over to his younger brother, "What the hell? Marinette is dressed perfectly fine for her job!"

"Please reconsider, Miss Dupain-Cheng." Bruce spoke.

"I will work from my own home." Mari stated, "I will come to the office only for meetings; everything else will be paper trailed through emails and run by one of you."

"That is perfectly doable." Bruce answered, "We can send any equipment you need and-"

"I have everything already."

Damian looked on confused. He had never known them to suck up this badly, not even to board members.

"You don't even know who she is; do you?" Tim exclaimed.

"An employee by the name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng." Damian answered.

Bruce sighed. Apparently his son had never read her file and background information as to why she was the head of her own department.

"She is Jagged Stone's personal and exclusive designer." Tim snarled, "She designs for many different celebrities world wide. She is known throughout Paris! You can obviously see why we wanted her here."

Damian had no clue that the she was that well known or that his family was that desperate to have her.

"What can we get you to continue to work here?" Bruce questioned, "We can pay you how ever much you want."

"I'll bump your salary to $65,000 a design." Tim offered.

Marinette shook her head, "I only want one thing and I want Damian Wayne to apologize to me."

"80,000 a design!" Tim quickly shouted.

Damian could clearly see his family was horrified. They had zero faith he would apologize or admit his mistake. Damian swallowed his pride and bowed down, as he would to his mother.

"My apologies for making my own personal assumptions." He began, "They were baseless and you truly did nothing wrong. It was my own assumption that you were attempting to seduce me that caused this."

Marinette's cheeks turned red as she listened to his in shock.

"My parents did not conceive me naturally. My mother drugged Father. I was raised and taught by her, from an early age, that women will use any means necessary to seduce who they value as someone of interest; even wear revealing clothes. They will cling to those they desire. They will feign innocence when confronted." Damian continued, "I only observed what I was told, but my family is alos correct. Your clothing is appropriate for the work place. You have never touched me inappropriately. You also have never tried to suede me. You treated me as everyone else in your department and yet-"

Damian was smacked upside the head by Tim. Damian turned to glare at him, but when he looked up, she saw Marinette covering her face with her hands and her ears were bright red.

"Miss Dupain-Cheng?" Damian spoke softly.

Marinette looked between her fingers at him, nervously.

"Miss Duapin-Cheng?" Bruce questioned, cautiously.

"I-I don't understand how-how you can like me." She stammered.

"Well, for one thing, you have a killer right hook." Damian stated.

Out of all the things, he could have answered, that was not one of them. Marinette began laughing and her hands fell away from her blushing face.

The Wayne heir smirked, "I'm also not use to people telling me to 'fuck off'."

Marinette snorted as she thought back to the first day they met. Bruce and Tim nodded as they slowly made their way away from the young adults.

"Everyone back to work." Bruce commanded, "If I see this online, I'll personally make sure whoever posted it, is fired."

The fashion department was quick to get back to work, leaving Damian Wayne to confess to their blushing designer.

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events@animeweebgirl@a-star-with-a-human-name@meme991001@vixen-uchiha@abrx2002@alysrose-starchild@fandom-trapped-03@dood-space@moonlightstar64@saltymiraculer@marveldcedits20@09shell-sea09@icerosecrystal@animegirlweeb@insane-fangirl-of-everything@blueblossombliss@nickristus-dreamer@megawhitleycalderonpaganus@missmadwoman@meira-3919@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@blep-23@fangirlingfanatic@darkhinauniverse@ravenr22@im-a-satanic-ritual@ravennm84@bianca-hooks123@a-slytherinish-gryffindor@starling218

[chunghasweetie]

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 | P.JM 1

— pairing | femceo!oc x ceo!pjm

— summary | two rival ceos competing for years. famous for their rivalry and hatred for one another. always arguing. she hated him. he couldn’t stand her.

but why was he hard after every interaction?

— warnings | bad writing (i’m doing my best) slow burn (i’m annoying), secret relationships (oc’s bsf has the hots for jk), cruel humor (oc acts hard to get), fluff, cheating (jimin won’t give up on this girl), relationship abuse, abuse, light stalking (oc’s bsf is NOSY), alcohol, angst, lying, toxic relationships, toxic love concepts, aggression, irrational behavior, misogyny, derogatory comments (oc’s bf is a DICK),

— word count | 7.4k words

— song suggestions | confident — justin bieber

Park Jimin.

One of the greatest names in South Korea. One of the greatest names in the world actually. His face was on everything. Street signs, billboards, cars, even school lunch pails.

He was a prodigy. A genius. Although his parents were successful, he needed no help from them. He owned car dealerships, clothing brands, shoe stores, etc. Anything you could name, he owned 3 of it.

All at age 28.

No children, no spouse. All of his achievements done single-handedly.

How did he become so successful? We'll never know. He's a very a secretive man.

Although there is not much known about him, he is the definition of "the female gaze."

He is an incredibly handsome man. He trends daily for his sharp jawline, his beautifully carved lips, and his beautiful siren like eyes.

He could charm any man or woman with his looks alone. His voice was like a pied piper, seducing anyone who listened.

Park Jimin was a mystery.

༊—

Yoo Jangmi.

CEO of YooMi Beauty. The title coming from her surname and her first name.

YooMi Beauty was an incredibly  popular beauty brand ranging from makeup all the way to high toothbrushes.

YooMi Beauty had makeup, jewelry, women's clothes, men's clothes, heels, maternity wear, children's clothes, even kitchen wear.

Everyone was wearing YooMi. Custom designs from Ms. Jangmi herself. She was a self made entrepreneur who turned her small business into an empire.

She was an inspiration to many women. Being an independent woman and making a name for herself all on her own, many people looked up to her.

Unlike Park Jimin, Jangmi was very interactive with interviews and customers who supported her. She admired every bit of feedback she received and was very transparent.

It was no secret that Park Jimin was her rival, and with her coming out with a new car accessory line, she knew there would be talk.

He owned a lot of different branches similar to her, so the two were constantly competing against one another.

Tonight they were both invited to a gathering at a casino in Las Vegas hosted by one of his competitors, Yoo Kihyun.

Jangmi's brother.

Jimin wore a more business casual outfit. Since it was being hosted by Kihyun, he could care less how he really looked. No one there would peak his interest enough to really make him want to stand out.

"Nice to see you, Park. Champagne?" Kihyun offered.

"Don't mind if I do." He answered, watching the bartender pour them a drink. "Surprised you invited me. Especially after I made your sales plummet last spring." He smirked.

"Surprised you remembered." Kihyun chuckled lowly, taking a sip of his drink.

"How could I not? I'm making it a marker of my many successes." Jimin thanked the bartender, turning back to Kihyun.

"You enjoy your night, Park. Do contact me if you need anything else." Kihyun and Jimin waved their goodbyes as Kihyun went to greet other guests.

Jimin held his chin high as he drank alone. At gatherings like these, he didn't talk to many other business owners.

Not to his surprise, he was viewed as a very arrogant man. Which he was, in moderation.

He wasn't a total dick, at least he'd say so. But he definitely was a sassy man. He was a bittersweet person.

"Sitting alone like always." A low female voice was heard behind him. "Get me something with vodka and strawberries." She ordered to the bartender, taking a seat beside Jimin.

"Ms. Yoo." He turned to her. "How lovely is it to see you tonight. Alone." He mimicked her. "You order your drinks like a toddler."

Tonight she was wearing a lilac maxi dress, sparkles reflecting off the many games and neon lights around them. Her hair was long, jet black and parted to the side.

"At least I'm not drinking boring champagne. Don't you like to try new things?"

He shook his head. "Nope. You can never go wrong with champagne. You already know what to expect."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I can expect to be face deep hurling over the casino toilet."

"How ladylike." He fake smiled. "No wonder you're alone too."

"I actually chose to come alone, Mr. Park. You have no choice." She thanked the bartender as he slid her drink over to her. "Be a doll and pay for my drink?"

"As if." He scoffed. "Why should I do that?"

"Because I'll be the only woman you've bought a drink for since you've been able to purchase alcohol." She fake smiled back to him, taking a sip.

Friendly fire is what their relationship would be described as.

They could be civil with one another yes, but they had every reason to not be.

They were in constant competition. Who could sell more in a certain amount of time. Who could please their consumers more than the other.

She couldn't stand him. He couldn't stand her. Every little thing the other did, set them off.

What made it worse was they were neighbors.

Jangmi and her brother looked so alike. The evil smirk they shared ticked Jimin off.

One thing Jimin and Jangmi both agreed on, was their rivalry against Kihyun.

Kihyun and Jangmi were siblings, but he was also her competitor.

He was shady, a cheat. He used his looks to his advantage when it came to business. He lied to a lot of his consumers and he often made false promises to them.

Although there were a few instances where he was exposed for his doings, he easily paid off reporters for their silence.

He overshadowed brands that had actual good value. Honest brands. Such as YooMi and Park Enterprises.

No one with a high power dared to ever challenge Kihyun, knowing damn well he could crush them instantly. So many remain silent.

"Aren't you just peachy to be around." He fake swooned. "Go hang out with your brother. I miss the silence before you got here."

"You know damn well that's not going to happen. I'd rather sit and drink with you than talk to that idiot." She took another sip.

"Don't tell me you like me Ms. Yoo— Awe! I'm flattered." He put his hand on his heart. "You have a boyfriend, but I'd understand why you'd want me more."

"You fucking wish. You'd have to pay me to like someone like you." She shook her head. "Especially more than him."

"I don't know. That's how they all start out. Pretty soon you'll want to sleep with me when you become a married woman. That's how captivating I am." He winked at her.

Jangmi almost gagged. "Captivating or cocky? Either way I'm going to be sick."

"I think you mean lovesick." He corrected her.

"Alright enough of that." She downed her drink, placing the empty glass on the table. "Thanks for the drink. Goodnight Park." She waved before exiting the bar.

"Goodnight Ms. Yoo." He bid his goodbyes, watching her as she walked off. He looked down at his aching lower region once she was completely out of his sight. “Shit— Am I hard?”

༊—

"Finally." Jangmi threw herself on her couch.

"How was it? How was he?" Jangmi's best friend Yeri came out of the kitchen, a bowl of oatmeal in her hands.

Yeri and Jangmi had been best friends since the age of 8 years old. The two were almost like sisters. They did absolutely everything together and they knew everything about each other.

Yeri knew the code to Jangmi's penthouse, so she'd go in and out as she pleased if she didn't see her boyfriends car in the driveway. She only lived a few buildings down but according to her Jangmi's home felt "comforting"

"You ask me that every time. Just apply at his office or something." Jangmi replied, face down into the pillow.

"You know it's not that simple!" Yeri whined. "My dads money can only do so much for me." She pouted.

"Work for it." Jangmi suggested.

"I'd rather die. Hey! Do you think Kihyun might want to—"

"I'm going to stop you right there! My brother is off limits!" Jangmi shot up from her couch.

"Are you jet lagged or something?! I meant offer me a modeling gig! You didn't let me finish." Yeri rolled her eyes.

"Thank goodness. I almost died." Jangmi laid back on the couch. "I don't get why you even think he's cute. He's a cocky bastard."

"You don't see the vision Jangmi. Jimin may not have the best personality, but you've got to admit he's very handsome."

"You call him Jimin like you guys are close." Jangmi brought out her phone. "Look, I have to run to his office anyways for a pick up tomorrow. You can say you're one of my assistants and take my place."

"Are you serious?!" Yeri gasped.

She nodded.

Yeri set down the oatmeal and ran to her best friend. She gave her a huge hug, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She squeezed her.

"Don't make me regret this." Jangmi grumbled.

༊—

Lee Minhyuk, Jangmi's boyfriend of over a year.

The man was about 179cm and just a year younger than Jangmi herself. She didn't usually go for the younger ones but this one specifically caught her eye.

Their relationship was very public. Everyone knew about him.

He wouldn't shut up about her. Although he hasn't nearly as famous as she was, whenever he'd be interviewed or featured on television he'd always manage to bring her up.

Jangmi this. Jangmi that.

He was a romantic too. Surprise roses here and there, dates outside the office.

His world revolved around her, as she was what he gloated about the most.

The media adored him, waiting daily for the man to pop the question, "Will you marry me?"

He originally was one of her Kihyun's business partners, so they met through him.

She'd say it was love at first sight the way they instantly connected after some simple phrases back and fourth.

Their relationship seemed so perfect. Barely any fighting or bickering between the couple. They were on the same page about their futures and they could communicate well.

Their relationship was perfect. As in it used to be. Out of nowhere, Minhyuk turned away from her. Pretty early on too.

Fights between the two would break out often. He'd leave and disappear for days on end. Weeks even.

She couldn't pinpoint where exactly they went wrong. She was nothing but devoted to him and treated him with nothing but respect.

He was controlling. Didn't like her daily habits. Didn't like how she ate and how she dressed.

His boasting about her was usually about her physical appearance. It was appreciated but she just wished he'd bring up something that wasn't about her face or her body.

They could be just a bit more intimate, thought Jangmi. At least towards her. They had sex often but, it didn't go down in the way she'd like to.

Often when it would come to them 'getting it on' it would only end up benefiting Min-hyuk.

"I don't want to try anything new." Minhyuk would argue, leaving a frustrated Jangmi to finish herself off later when she was left alone.

Eventually she stopped fighting it, seeing that she wasn't going to win anyway after time and time again of her trying to explain.

Maybe it's just an obstacle they'd have to overcome in the future, all couples have something they need to work on.

For Min-hyuk, the main obstacle in their relationship was her not wanting to settle down.

She didn't want to be married just yet. The girl loved to party, loved to travel. She was a drinker and she loved to explore and feel free.

She loved looking pretty. Dressing up. One of the main reasons she started her business.

Daily she'd wear makeup and "girly" outfits. She was a very feminine woman who couldn't stand looking overly simple.

Here and there she'd like to expose skin. Nothing drastic but she loved to feel comfortable in her body. She went to the gym daily. She didn't work hard just to not show it off.

Her looks weren't for anyone's gaze. Just for her and her only.

Minhyuk wanted to domesticate her already. Make her the perfect housewife and give birth to their many children. Combine their companies.

He didn't like that she loved to party. He hated that all she wanted to do was try new things and travel.

Do not get him started on her outfits. How could such a woman show off so much?

He didn't understand any of it. He loved her but at some point shouldn't she stop?

"Don't you think you're getting a bit old to be wearing outfits like that?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe

Jangmi wore a simple floral pattern dress. It was long sleeved and flowy at the bottom.

She never wore flats but today she decided to. She dressed so plain today. For once she didn't dress for herself but she dressed for him today. Her outfit was the exact opposite of what she usually wore.

It was one of of the most modest outfits she owned.

"Considering I'm still in my twenties I don't think so at all." She laughed.

"Late twenties might I add." He folded his arms. "Shouldn't you be thinking about your future just a bit more?"

"Uh I think about my future every damn day. You forget I run an entire empire." She scoffed.

"I'm just trying to help you out Jangmi. Nows the age to start thinking just a bit more about the future of us. I want kids. A marriage." He held onto her waist.

"I don't understand why my outfit is stopping us from achieving that." Jangmi tilted her head.

"Just forget it." Minhyuk sighed, a sad expression settling on his face.

"Wait— I'll change." Jangmi exhaled.

She just wanted the best for the two. Minhyuk was all she knew, so she couldn't just give up on him.

Minhyuk's pout turned into a smile instantly. "Thanks Jangmi! I love you."

"I love you too." She smiled, heading back up the stairs.

༊—

"Breathe Yeri. Breathe." Yeri calmed herself down before entering the elevator of Park Enterprises.

She was really there in the building. After using Jangmi as an excuse to see Park Jimin up close and in person, she was finally able to do it.

The smoking hot man she had seen on so many billboards and TV screens she was finally going to see in person.

She was filthy rich and her dad could get her to meet anyone she wanted but for some reason, Jimin wasn't within reach.

He was a busy man who was always traveling. And unlike an idol, he couldn't just do meet and greets.

I guess you could say she was a bit of a fan girl.

The elevators made a "ding" noise as soon as she reached the top floor.

"Okay. You just put them on the desk and leave. Easy." She reminded herself as the elevator doors opened.

Before her plans could be fulfilled, she slammed right into someone.

"Ow!" She winced as she immediately dropped to the floor.

"Oh my goodness— Are you okay?!" The man immediately stooped down and helped her up from the ground.

"Y-Yeah." She struggled to get back on her feet.

"I'm so sorry!" He bowed to her before the two made eye contact.

Damn.

'Who is he?' Yeri thought.

Little did she know he was thinking that same thing.

The two simply stared at each other for a few seconds.

She felt as if she was in some kind of drama. When she looked at him it was like cherry blossoms and lovey dovey music played in the background.

Forget Jimin. She needed this one.

"Are you here to see Mr. Park?" He asked her as he pressed on the elevator button.

She nodded.

"He's not in his office at the moment but I can take those. You're from YooMi. Correct?" He asked her as he took the files from her hand.

She nodded once more.

Damnit, why can't you speak? Yeri thought to herself. No way she was this pathetic in front of him.

"I'm sorry if I've frightened you. I'm Mr. Park's secretary." He bowed to her, her bowing back. "And you are?"

"Ah— I'm Ms. Yoo's assistant."

"You must be new. I know all of Ms. Yoo's assistants." He adjusted his glasses.

"I'm still in training unfortunately. She's just having me run some errands." She explained before the elevator came to a stop.

"I wish you luck. I know she's a pretty tough woman. But this is my stop. Sorry again." He waved goodby before getting off the elevator.

"I need him." She mumbled to herself after waving goodbye to Mr. Park's assistant.

༊—

"Jangmi, please."

"For the last time. Hell no! What are you even on about?! You didn't want a job period now all of a sudden you want to work for me? You're out of your mind." Jangmi walked past the pleading girl.

"I'm so desperate here Jangmi. Can't you find it in your heart to—"

"No." She shook her head. "Not until you explain to me what the hell you're doing this for."

Yeri had spent the last few hours researching Jimin's secretary.

There were images and videos but there were no names. Nothing to work with at all.

She needed to see him again. He introduced himself as Jimin's secretary but didn't even give her his work name. Did he not want to tell her? Was he secretive? What kind of person wouldn't even say their own name?

She figured since Jangmi and Jimin hated each other, she had to know.

"What's his name? Jimin's secretary." Yeri asked.

"Ohhh. That's what this is for." Jangmi smirked. "Finally seen Secretary Sexy up close."

"Don't ever call him that again." Yeri gagged. "That was hard to even hear."

"Whatever. It could be worse, I could like Mr. Park's secretary."

"You don't get it! Jangmi you just had to be there. He was so tall. His shoulders— Oh don't get me started. And he's polite! When we locked eyes it's like..." She trailed off. "Love at first sight!"

Jangmi simply stared at the girl for a moment. Then burst out laughing. "Whew Yeri!" She threw herself on the couch. "You can not be serious!"

"It's not funny!" Yeri began to throw a fit, stomping her feet. "It's like the whole world literally stopped for us! Music started playing and the colors in the elevator became so vibrant like in the movies!"

"The elevator is literally silver and brown!" Jangmi laughed. "Girl he's cute but not that cute!"

"You're childish." She mumbled. "You're just jealous because you're in a generic relationship. You're not in a drama like me okay!"

"And what am I supposed to be in if you're a drama?"

"Those really boring slow silent historical films that only old people watch!" Yeri immaturely pointed at her.

"Well that was just rude. But I guess that's what love at first sight does to you." Jangmi giggled, causing Yeri to huff. "Okay okay that was the last one!"

"Just tell me his name. Oh my gosh- Do you have his number?!" She jumped on the couch.

"How close do you think I am to Mr. Park?!" She exclaimed.

"I have an idea!" Yeri shot up onto her feet.

"Let's hear it." She sighed.

"Buy him."

Jangmi rose an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Yeri smirked. "There must be a reason Park Enterprises runs so well. The secretary. We buy the secretary we buy all of his secrets. Poor guy was overworked. I don't even think he has his own office. Let's march down there and let's buy his secretary!"

"That's..." Jangmi exhaled. "The stupidest idea I've ever heard of. And you just talked about love at first sight. You're an actual idiot."

Yeri whined. "Come on! It's a good idea. Don't you want to know his secrets?"

"As much as I do not like Mr. Park, you're not thinking about this logically. His secretary is bound by his contact. Equally meaning he can not say a damn thing about the Park name. We have no idea what kind of contract he even signed." She took her hair out of her ponytail.

"And to be honest. I don't care about that secretary enough to hire him. I'm not wasting my precious time on some crush that may be loyal to his company." Jangmi shook her head.

"So that's it? Me and him are through?" Yeri dramatically stuffed her face in the pillow. "I thought money could fix everything!"

"You should know very well by now it does not. At all." Jangmi rolled her eyes. Hearing how distraught her best friend was, she caved in.

"His name is Jeon Jungkook. Do you want to go drink and get BBQ?" She asked her.

༊—

"She's perfect isn't she? Beautiful face and a beautiful body. What more could a man want?" Minhyuk boasted in front of the press, arm wrapped around Jangmi's waist.

Tonight they were attending a fashion show in Seoul. The main models were wearing various designs by YooMi and Jangmi couldn't be more proud.

She hand picked the models herself years ago and now with their experience, they'll be walking their first runway.

YooMi wasn't the only brand making an appearance that night.

Park Jimin was only a few feet beside them, waving to the press.

Surprisingly he wasn't alone, but not in the way you'd think.

Secretary Jeon was beside him, answering some questions for Jimin.

It was a bit surprising considering he never really spoke up, so they got a bit more attention than usual.

She paid no attention to them, focusing on the interview in front of her.

"I'm sure he loves my persona too." Jangmi added on, laughing.

Once the interview was wrapped up, Jangmi and Minhyuk made their way to their seats after going through security.

Jangmi happily checked out the area, the room being set up perfectly as she envisioned it.

"This is going to be so good!" The girl rubbed her hands together in excitement.

"Yeah." Minhyuk mumbled, feeling unsteady.

Truth be told the guy didn't want to be here at all. If it was up to him he'd be at home with a cold beer and a porn website.

The show started once everyone took their seats, and Jangmi didn't take her eyes off the runway.

༊—

"Oh my gosh!" Jangmi clapped loudly. "Beautiful! That was so amazing! My girls and boys did so amazing! I'm so proud."

"Yup." Minhyuk looked around. "Do you think the open bar is still available?"

"What's your problem?" She questioned him.

He'd been aching to go since the interview. What could've possibly made him this uneasy?

"You can tell me Minhyuk."

"Earlier. Why did you have to say that?" Minhyuk turned to her.

She looked at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm sure he loves my persona too" He mimicked her. "Don't you think that kind of makes me sound like a dick? You should've been more considerate."

"Well I mean all you've done is talk about my looks all night. It was just a harmless joke so relax." She fanned herself.

"I don't need your shit right before a show." He crossed his arms, anger slightly rising.

"You act like it's your brand who's modeling. We came here for me." She scoffed.

"Whatever. It was a shit show anyway. The clothing you submitted wasn't good for shit." He muttered out, clearly ticked off.

"Are you fucking serious? You're acting like a fucking child. If you want to be a dick right now then just fucking go. I have a ride home anyway." She rose her voice.

"Fine. Didn't want to be here anyway." He stood up from his seat and stomped off childishly.

Jangmi breathed out, fanning herself some more.

She needed to calm her nerves before anxiety rose or this wasn't going to end well.

"What's wrong with Captain Hothead?"

"Not now Park. I can not deal with you right now." Jimin eyed her. Analyzing her body language and emotional state.

He didn't see the entire situation go down, but he seen enough to where he could make a good assumption.

She looked stressed from their previous outburst at her boyfriend. Uneasy.

But damn did she look good.

Jangmi had on a steel blue suit with a corset top underneath, revealing some of her cleavage and her stomach piercing which matched the rest of the jewelry she had.

She paired the outfit with diamond jewelry and 4 inch platform heels.

Jimin couldn't help himself but to take a good look at her. Sure she was his rival. But it couldn't hurt to just take a peek.

"You clean up nice." He eyed her once more. "And so did your models. Not bad Ms. Yoo."

"Thank you Mr. Park." She stood up from her chair. "Did you come here to make fun of me because I caused a scene?"

"It's not a scene if no one cares." He smiled. "The world doesn't revolve around you Yoo."

"Whatever." Jangmi was about to push past him but he grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

"Let me take you home." He said suddenly, making her look up at him.

Oddly, Jimin couldn't help himself but sympathize for her. He knew well she didn't like to look vulnerable in front of him, but he wanted to stand before her with open arms.

"What?"

"You said you had a ride. I know for a fact he took the car you both came in. Let me drive you home, neighbor." He reached his hand out to her.

Honestly, she didn't have any other choice. She didn't like the guy but she knew for sure Yeri would be knocked out sleep and there's no one she could depend on to take her home.

Jimin lived right next door, so he's all she got. But why was he being so friendly to her?

"Alright."

༊—

Silent.

It was silent in the car. Who knew they'd be so awkward around each other.

There was small talk between the two in the beginning but it ended up dying down a lot sooner than they both anticipated.

She already thanked him many times for his offer, so not much could be said about that. Jimin didn't mind hearing the praise but she definitely could've said much more.

"You don't seem to shut up any other time. Why the silence now?"

She looked up from playing with her fingers. "I'd figure I'd be nice to you considering I would be stuck at the show without you."

"Always knew you'd need me one day." He chuckled.

"Arrogant."

"What was that?"

"You're arrogant." She repeated.

"You don't like that? All the ladies do."

She scoffed. "I'm not apart of of all the ladies then. And I have a boyfriend so you don't phase me."

"Some boyfriend you have. He's a bit of a boy don't you think? Kind of toddler-like." He raised his eyebrows as he pulled into the gated community they lived in.

"You don't know him. He just had a bad night that's all. It was my fault." She shifted in her seat. "It doesn't matter anyway it's none of your concern."

He chuckled as he pulled into his driveway, turning off the car. "Yeah you're right."

She unbuckled herself and picked up her purse from the floor of the car. "Anyway, thank you Mr. Park for taking me home."

"Anytime." He unbuckled himself.

The two waved their goodbyes and Jimin watched her enter her home safely.

He locked his car and entered in the code to his home before entering.

"It is my concern Ms. Yoo."

༊—

"I'm coming!" Jangmi raced down the staircase, making her way to the front door.

The girl had her pajamas on paired with her froggy slippers. She finished her hair and makeup already for the day 'just because' since she'd be staying home.

Yeri was asleep upstairs, and Jangmi knew damn well Minhyuk wouldn't talk to her first.

So who'd be ringing her doorbell so early in the morning?

Jangmi opened her front door, seeing the very last person she thought would be ringing her doorbell.

"Hey neighbor." The charming man leaned against the doorframe, one ankle crossed over the other.

"Uh hey." Jangmi stared at him, taken back. "Didn't think I'd see you this morning."

One thing about Jangmi, she always avoided eye contact with Jimin.

For him being dressed so casually, he didn't look bad at all.

Why am I checking him out? Shit. Jangmi wondered to herself.

Something about those siren eyes always threw her off. They made her feel distracted.

Was she seriously checking out the guy she couldn't stand in the least? When she had a boyfriend at that?

"I just wanted to check up on you after yesterday." He parted his lips, licking them.

"Like I said, it's none of your concern." She snapped out of his trance. "Why does it matter?"

Why was he still on about it?

"You're right. Can't help but stay curious I guess." He chuckled before his face turned serious. "Eat at my place for breakfast, Ms. Yoo."

Jangmi practically choked on air. "What? Don't you think that's kind of inappropriate?"

"I don't think it is at all. Two CEOs just grabbing a bite to eat." Jimin stuck his hands in his pockets. "Boyfriend won't let you out or what?"

Jangmi huffed. She'd be damned to have anyone think Minhyuk had some sort of power that determined what she'd be doing with her free time.

She was starving, and she knew well Yeri would not be awake in time for the local breakfast diner to be open by the time she woke up.

"Fine, let's go eat. Give me time to get ready."

"You look fine now. We're both in our pajamas and it's not like we're going out somewhere nice. Just my dining room." He smiled.

"Okay." She stepped out of her doorway, walking beside Jimin as they walked over to his home.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

We have a full hcs about a smoll MC, now how about a full hcs about a toll MC who's even more toller than Muriel? :0

The Arcana HCs: When MC is taller than Muriel

~ @zedibleandedible how do you always come up with the cutest ideas??? thank you for sending this in, friend! - brainrot ~

Julian

Very, very attracted to this and doing his best to hide it (he's failing)

So used to being one of the tallest people around that most of his flirtatious moves depend on the focus of his attraction being shorter than he is

Which means he's completely lost on how to approach you

He can't make a path for you through the crowd, he can't hide you behind him, he can't catch you against his chest - hang on a sec

This can go both ways

Now he's employing the reverse of all his tactics

Holding onto your elbow while you make your way through the crowd, tripping and falling constantly so you can catch him against your chest, asking you to grab something or spot someone for him

He could get used to this

He has a whole new perspective shift when your relationship progresses to things like cuddling and kissing, because he has to rethink all the mechanics of it (he's used to bending down for a kiss, not standing on his tiptoes) but he finds he quite likes it

Asra

Has loved you for years and is well-versed in interacting with someone your height (they knew Muriel long before they knew you, and they've known you for nine years now)

Though your height proved to be a challenge when he needed to teach you how to be human again

You had to lean on their shoulders, instead of their elbow, and they accidentally led you into so many door frames, signposts, and shop front awnings

There were also issues inside the shop. As it had been yours for quite some time, you had stored quite a few things on some very tall shelves that Asra couldn't reach without magic. (Or a ladder)

And magic lessons could quickly get out of hand when whatever you were doing ended up out of his reach

"Master, I can't control the fire spell!"

"Bring it down towards me! - wait, not near that shelf! Faust is sleeping in those papers!"

Faust doesn't mind your height at all. She loves hitching joyrides on your shoulders and looking down at all the teeny tiny humans below her

Nadia

When she first visited your shop, and mentioned that you were not the same as you were in her dream, this is what she meant

The truth is that you did appear at your regular height in her dream, but at that point everything seemed so out of wack for her that she assumed you just appeared larger than life

But here you are in real life, and you are in fact very large

Finds your frame impressive and, depending on your preferred aesthetic, is determined to find all the best ways to dress it (you have great potential in capes)

Secretly not that fond of having to look up to talk to you. She's used to being the tall one, or at least the same height

Starts wearing heels

Knows the whole time that it won't make a huge difference, but loves the shift in perspective

Never accepts your offers to grab something she can't reach, but she will ask you to spot someone in a crowd for her. Sometimes. Maybe

You are Chandra's new favorite perch

Muriel

A little surprised when he first met you

Hates to admit it, but he's rarely had to look up to talk to someone and he generally keeps his head down anyways. His neck was so sore the first few weeks he spent interacting with you

Genuinely delighted that he doesn't have to be the tallest person in the room anymore

Somebody needs something they can't reach? They go to you instead. Need to spot someone in a crowd? They ask you instead. People want to stare at somebody tall? They look at you instead

You love being in Muriel's hut as well, because it's one of the few buildings in Vesuvia besides the Palace and your shop that have door frames and ceilings that you don't have to stoop under

Once, Muriel had to ask you to put a baby bird back in its nest (the branch was just out of reach for him) and he nearly died on the spot from how surreal and attractive the whole thing was

Learns to like leaning his head on your shoulder when you sit side by side

Inanna has few thoughts about it. Unless you can teach Muriel to stop slouching

Portia

WOAH

She has so many uses for you, you are now required to follow her everywhere she goes (she's only half-joking)

Loves to rub it in her brother's face that she's with someone taller than he is. Not because Julian is insecure about his height, just because it's funny to watch him have to look up for once

Regularly requests to sit on your shoulders while you walk around. If you indulge her, she will only ask more often

Had to make a lot of adjustments to her cottage. Everything from the pots and pans hanging precariously close to your shoulders, to the mirrors hung at your chest height - the whole thing was a maze

She does have a personal goal to pick you up as effortlessly as possible. And, if you allow it, to demonstrate that skill at every party she attends with you

Regularly has you pay "tall tax" by grabbing things she can't reach, but really it's an excuse to grab your arm when you hand it to her and haul you down for a kiss

Pepi tries every day to climb your clothing like it's a cat tree

Lucio

He became so generally disoriented while he was a ghost and then while you were in the realms that he didn't realize how tall you truly were until he got his body back

There was a flash of insecurity there, he's not going to lie

However, he quickly realizes that having you as his lover and best friend means that he gets to brag about you instead of comparing himself to you

And brag he does. Constantly

(If he upped the height of his own heeled boots, no he didn't)

Secretly loves to watch people go slack-jawed when they meet you and they have to get used to looking up that much to make eye contact with you. Yeah, that's his beloved they're looking at

Shamelessly asks you to do height-related favors for him, even when it actually is in his reach or he can see perfectly fine himself

Regularly gets you involved in teasing playing with Mercedes and Melchior

Because you can hold the treats up so high! And they look so funny when they have to jump!

[igotanidea]

Pool party : Dick grayson x reader

Request: by @pinkestfloyd - dick x female reader having a pool party at the wayne manor

***

It took weeks to convince Y/N to have a proper celebration of her birthday.

If it was up to her she would rather have some quiet event, like a nice dinner with her boyfriend, a movie and some cuddles and maybe something more.

But no……!

Dick Grayson, being the eldest son of the billionaire and head over heels in love with her just had to go overboard.

A pool party? She raised an eyebrow when he broke the news to her a couple weeks earlier “do you even know me Dick? Why the hell would I want a pool party?”

“Cause you never had any in your life obviously!” he grinned

“Do you see me mourning that terrible loss?”

“come on, baby…..” he cooed, grabbing her by the waist and pulling to him “it’s gonna be fun.. I promise! Scout’s word!”

“You were never in the scouts.”

“How about Robin’s word?” he keeps on convincing her, his tone playful

“Now that’s something I would never trust….” She snickers

“You’re breaking my heart here Y/N….” one of his hands leave her body as he puts it on his heart, faking going into a cardiac arrest. “Shall I wear my Nightwing costume to convince you?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“I never knew Nightwing is a party goer…..”

“duh! Obviously! He’s the most popular hero in the city! Of course he’s a party animal!”

“I have one too many people who would argue with that.”

“Come on.....” he whines “Y/N….. pleaaaaaseeeeee?”

“It’s not working on me, you know?”

“I still got some time to the most important day of the year which is your b-day. I’ll keep working on it. Now can you beloved boyfriend have a kiss?”

***

Satisfying his words and being a stubborn pain in the ass for the next days Dick was quite literally popping out of nowhere to talk her into his crazy and irrational idea.

She broke when one day he grabbed her from behind when she was leaving shower, dragging her into the room, almost giving her a heart attack in the process. She was tired of those childish monkey tricks and fully aware he was not going give up until she said yes to that completely ridiculous idea of unnecessary pool party at the manor (that being the quote).

Thinking about her future with Dick she was kind of getting worried of what lengths he might go to, if it ever came to asking her to marry him…….

 But…

She said yes to the party and the look on Dick’s face at that moment almost made her blood freeze.

His face lit up, his eyes sparkled and he looked like a kid in a candy store. Clearly, the ideas and plans to make it the best party in her entire life clouded his logical thinking, cause when she tried to give him a single suggestion about it, he hushed her and rushed off the room, muttering some omniscient words about attractions, catering and  flamingos(!).

Shit……

***

And that’s how she found herself here.

Here being the guest room in the manor, in front of the mirror, hesitant to do as much as peek out, let alone enjoy her own birthday party.

Everything seemed perfect. Unlike any other day in Gotham the sun was shining, no one fought anyone and even Jason and Bruce decided to let go of their unresolved conflict and bitter attitude (which made her wonder what was thing Dick threatened them with and explained the screaming she heard one day – something about no fucking fighting!).

Yes. Everything seemed perfect.

Everything except her – the woman of the hour.

And the more she stared at herself in the mirror, the more stressed she got. For no reason in particular.

“Y/n?” Dick peeked inside the room, grinning “What’s taking you so long? Everyone’s waiting.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming….” She muttered looking like a cloud storm

“Oh, no….” Dick grabbed her wrist spinning her around and putting a finger under her chin forcing her gaze up “not with that attitude. Come on…. Cheer up…. You act so much like Jason….. I promised you fun and I intend to keep that promise. Trust me?”

“You’re asking awfully a lot, Dick.” She rolls her eyes. “should know better but yeah, I do trust you.” Her hand instinctively found a way to his cheek, caressing it gently “I’m sorry I;ve been a pain about it…..”

“I forgive you, now come on, let’s party!”

“Yay…..”

The second he led her outside, her moody attitude was gone in a second, replaced by the feeling of utter shock.

Positive shock.

Contrary to her worries, Dick did not invite the whole Justice League members, Titans and whoever else. Instead, the only guests were the closest member of the Batfamily, Alfred and Bruce obviously included. And seeing them just like that – chilling and carefree from the crime fighting , even if only for a while, made her happy that she agreed to all that. For her and for their sake’s.

Stephanie, Barbara and Cass were sunbathing by the pool, laughing and talking, Damian was floating on the water on the pool  inflatable in the shape of avocado and Tim was cussing quietly at the Bluetooth loudspeaker that refused to work properly. Even Jason seemed almost happy taking care of the food and the grill, wearing his famous kiss the cook apron. Bruce and Alfred were almost in a holiday mood, casually sipping drinks and keeping an eye on everyone.

Even Titus and Alfred the cat seemed to join the party.

“Is …. Is that a slide there?” Y/N asked, completely shocked at all the decorations, balloons and attractions. And lack of flamingos, luckily.

“Of course it is! Did you really think I would do anything you don’t like?” Dick grinned “Come on, sunshine, I know my own girlfriend and it’s your day after all! HEY PEOPLE!” he yelled getting the attention of the entire family “THE BIRTHDAY GIRL IS HERE!”

“Oh, for fuck’s….” Tim mutters, kicking the stereo in a poor attempt to finally make it work. And to everyone’s surprise it actually did and the party music played from the speaker.

“Happy birthday Y/N!” Stephanie in her purple swimming suit came running and hugging her friend and everyone followed. It took way too much time for Dick’s liking and getting impatient he just swept his girlfriend out of her feet, picked her up bridal style and screaming cannonball! Jumped into the pool with Y/N in his arms causing a little tsunami, that almost flooded Jason grill.

“Dick! I’m all wet!” Y/N yelled breaking into the surface, brushing her hair out of face.

“It’s a pool party! What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, music, drinks and sprawling on the lawn chair?”

“Not on my watch, baby. I’ll make sure to give you more entertainment than that.” He smirked

And just like that, with her favourite music playing and her favourite people around she finally got herself into a party mood, realising that it was in fact her day.

***

A few hours later, all his siblings, Bruce and Alfred left, leaving Y/N and Dick to have some alone time. It was quite hard with everyone running around, laughing, bantering and sliding on the slide. A lot was happening and only now they got a chance to enjoy each other in quiet.

Y/N was laying on the inflatable, facing the sky and Dick was sitting on the edge of the pool watching her.

“Thanks for this dick…” she mutters sitting so she could face him. I really did have fun.”

“Told ya!” he grinned, slipping into the water and getting closer to her. “I know better what you may need, baby. Gotta believe me more.”

“Yeah….not gonna happen you big kid…”

“Big kid huh?” she scoffed “If you say so…” without hesitation he grabbed some water into his hands and splashed it all over her.

“Hey!”  she laughed and shook “not fair, Grayson! This is a literal attack on me!” she kicked her feet trying to get her revenge without leaving her place. “Take that!”

“You’re just so cute when you’re trying to threaten me, Y/N.”

“don’t come any closer to me, you shark!” she laughed seeing him swim closer to her and leaning on her mattress, eyeing her with loving gaze.

“I’m not a shark…. I’m trying to do some Titanic impression here.” He joked referring to the position her was in. His bottom half in the water, his upper half above it, with Y/N floating on the water.”

“not a funny reference Dick. You know how Leo DiCaprio ended there right?”

“Well, I am hoping for a different outcome.”

“And what may that…..?’

She didn’t get to finish the sentence when Dick jumped out of the water pecking her lips, grabbing her waist and dragged her underwater, pulling close without breaking the contact even for a moment. The speed and agility of this gesture immediately washed away all of her anger and she kissed him back, her own hands finding a way to his shoulder and neck, not wanting the kiss to end. This time, it turned out it was dick who had to have common sense when after a few seconds he pulled her up.

“That was what I was hoping for.” He grinned leaning his forehead on his.

“You were the one to stop…..” she pointed out

“not even close to stopping….Just couldn’t risk you suffocating there….”

“How ironic would it be if I suffocate to death on my birthday…”

“And that reminds me…. I didn’t give you your present….” He murmured, grabbing her legs and wrapping them around his waist under water “thank god, my family finally left us alone…..” and with those words he leaned forward capturing her lips in his, smiling and showing her how happy those birthday were about to become.   

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias/Trent Alexander Arnold x Reader - Dark Rivarly Part 2/15

Part 3 and 4 are already out on my Patreon for FREE!

Reader is Trent Alexander Arnold's twin sister. The two have been inseparable since childbirth, more so now when Reader is fresh out of university looking for a job, crashing at her brother's place whilst doing so. One day Reader gets a job offer that she cannot refuse, however it would mean working for her brother's biggest rival in football, Ruben Dias. 

Enjoy!

"Not like that, like this."

"But grandma..."

You were miserable being a seamstress apprentice, but at least you were doing something your parents would say whenever you'd call them to complain. They had you move to Manchester so you could learn the business. Grandma was happy to have you since dad was never good for anything but stitching up socks when he was young. You remember him doing so all the time as Trent would grow out of his clothes faster than you.

"Rearrange them." Grandma demanded, pointing to a pile of spare buttons that you wrongfully arranged by tossing them all into one single box. "Afterwards Jennifer has got some more work for you to do at the counter."

"Wait, you're leaving me?"

Grandma was seen putting on her hat and fur coat. "The Great British Bake off is on." She smiled. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." And with that she left the shop.

Frustrated, you rearranged the box of buttons and went on to receive more instructions from grandma's only employee at this particular shop, located in a quite posh part of Manchester. Sometimes you would recognize people who walked in from TV or the cover of famous magazines. It was cool how Grandma had managed to make quite the name for herself, having started from nothing.

"All done?" Jennifer asked, as you walked up to the counter, shoving the box of buttons into a drawer beneath it.

"Yes. Can I go home now?"

Jennifer looked at you with guilty eyes. Her green guilty eyes. "I've actually got some things for you to sort out. We've got an important client coming in tomorrow. His assistant called this morning, asking us to prepare his measurements beforehand so it wouldn't be as much of a hassle tomorrow. What I need you to do is clean up in the back by putting some clothes on the headless mannequins.....oh, after you've attached their heads of course."

"Jenny," You sighed. "That's gonna take me at least two more hours in the shop. Please tell me you're at least sticking around to help me?"

"Sorry." She shrugged, closing down the computer and grabbing her purse. "I've got a date tonight."

And like that you were left for dead. Your Friday night set.

After two hours you were still on your knees in the shop window, dressing the mannequins, customizing them with Grandma's latest collections. Suddenly the bell to the front door rang.

"Coming!"

It was too late for any deliveries. You were surprised to be confronted by a tall man with dark hair and broad shoulders, wearing sunglasses even though it was nearly dark outside.

"Can I help you sir?"

The man looked over his shoulders then to the left and to the right before acknowledging you. "Are you Mrs Arnold?" He asked skeptically. Although you couldn't see his eyes from behind his dark sunglasses, you knew that he was looking at your bare feet.

"Erm..no, I'm her grandchild. Can I help you with something?" You regretted the fact that you left your heels in the store window. You thought the delivery man was at the door. Instead you found this huge man that, unless he wanted to buy something, you were going to have to ask to leave.

"My assistant called your grandmother about a suit fitting. I was in the neighborhood and I have the suit with me right now if we could just get it over with today, since my flight leaves early tomorrow afternoon."

"Um, sure. What was the name?" You moved over to the counter, checking the computer. If it was just a suit fit then perhaps you could get it done yourself. You had done many of those before, without Grandma having to assist you.

"The name?" You repeated, peering over to see that the man hadn't given it up yet. All he had done was remove his sunglasses, revealing a pair of handsome brown eyes.

"It's Ruben, Ruben Dias."

"Ruben....Dias...." You typed the name into the bookings, and that's when it hit you. "Wait a minute?"

The man seemed startled by the swift way your eyes left the computer, examining him. "You play for Manchester City, don't you?" And not only that, he was THE Ruben Dias.

"Yeah." He smiled, not really wanting to make a big deal out of it. You however....

"My brother hates you!"

"Pardon?" He scratched the back of his head.

"No, you don't understand, he really hates you." You laughed. "The way you played against Liverpool last time around was hilarious."

"Um...thanks."

You could see it, Ruben getting a bit uncomfortable by the change of your demeanor. You were probably coming across as very unprofessional.

"Excuse me." You said, clearing your throat, settling down a bit. "I'll be right back."

You rushed over to the store window where the half dressed mannequins lay, along with your high heels. You returned to the front of the store, having collected yourself and put on your shoes.

"Let's see the suit." You said, to which Ruben brought out a paper bag, setting it on the counter in front of you. He pulled out the jacket of the suit, but the way it look, the texture of the fabric...

"It's green." You grimarced.

"Yeah." He nodded.

"Why is it green?"

"You don't like it?"

"No." You snorted. "It's hideous. Unless the theme to whatever event you're going to is 'Moldy Pinguin'?"

"It's not." He said, looking less than amused.

"Well whoever suggested you'd wear it should be fired."

"Did my assistant give you the measurements?" He said, in a business like matter, a sign for you to shut up and do your job.

"Sure." You nodded, ones again wiping the smile off your face. "Please, sit. This may take a while."

Ruben was glad to be seated whilst you took his suit into the back office where Grandma kept her sewing machine. You took Ruben's measurements and applied them to the suit. It should fit him well once you are done.

"Done. Let's try it on."

You returned with the fitted suit. Handing it to Ruben who stood and followed your directions towards dressing rooms. Whilst he took his time, you contemplated calling Trent, perhaps lying and telling him that Grandma had Manchester City players coming in and out of her shop. Of course, he wouldn't believe you unless you had proof, and sneaking a photo of Ruben would be too risky, not to mention creepy. No, you shouldn't do it. Although you really wanted to. If you could just get closer.....

"I don't think the shirt fits."

Approaching his dressing room, phone in hand, you were forced to back off as the curtains flung open, revealing Ruben with an unbuttoned shirt and no pants on.

"Um, w...what doesn't fit?" Your mouth went dry. Ruben's black underwear fit him perfectly, the elastic fabric hugging tightly around the curve of his ass, cupping his front, firmly holding up the bulk in his pants.

"My shirt?"

"Oh." Your gaze lifted. "Of course. Your shirt." You approached him, examining the design.

"Look." He said, demonstrating the fact that the buttons wouldn't close, not with the current size of his chest.

"I see." You hummed, trying not to make it obvious that you were checking him out. He had outlined muscles everywhere you looked, even tracing down towards his...

"Can you fix it or not?"

"Tonight?" Your eyes left his muscles, mimicking his frown.

"Yes. I'm leaving for Portugal tomorrow, it's where I'll receive my reward."

"What award?"

"Does it matter?"

Clearly Ruben was getting irritated, however none of this was your fault. You did the measurements just as his assistant had informed. Perhaps Mr Muscle Everest should stay off the weights if he wanted clothes to fit him better.

"Can you?" He repeated, seeing how you failed to answer him.

"Fine. Okay." You nodded, stretching out a hand for Ruben to hand over the shirt. He did so rolling his eyes.

God, he was annoying, you thought. No wonder he and your brother had beef.

"I'll be right back." You said, and spent another hour working overtime. By the time you left the sewing machine and waited for Ruben to try on the suit, the time was already well past nine o' clock.

"Okay, tell me what you think, and don't lie." Ruben stepped out of the dressing room in his moldy penguin suit.

You shrugged your shoulders and handed it to him straight. "I'd definitely call you if I needed help solving the murder mystery of my late cat Whiskey."

"Huh?"

"It means you look like Sherlock Holmes, Ruben."

He raised a brow.

"And Sherlock Holmes is not who I'd aspire to look like If I was expected to go on stage, receiving an award in front of hundreds of people."

Ruben's expression faltered. "Is that all?"

"Yes, that'll be 50 pounds for the fitting. Would you like me to run it up by the front desk?"

"Gladly." He grunted, shutting the dressing room curtains in your face.

You mumbled the words on your way to the front desk. "What a dickhead."

Part 3 and 4 are already out on my Patreon for FREE!

[farity]

Study session

Pairing: Modern AU Aemond Targaryen and you

Warning: Smut

Summary:  An all nighter turns into an all nighter.

Inspired by The New Pictures.  Fuck me, these are going to kill me.

“Got any Red Bull?”

Aemond frowned but didn’t look up as he replied.  “That stuff is toxic, love, just have some coffee.”

You stared at him.  “I drank it all,” you replied quietly.  Your housemate was sitting on one of the chairs in the living room, the only color in his clothes a ridiculous red gingham jacket his aunt had gotten him because “all you wear is black, sweetie.”  Other than that, the shirt beneath, the shirt over, and the sweatpants he wore were all his usual black.

He looked up to see you standing in his doorway.  “There were two new bags.”

“It’s exams week!” you explained, probably more forcefully than you needed to, and turned on your heel.  “I’m going to the bodega, need anything?”

He didn’t reply, but as you slipped on your jacket and got your bag, you saw him putting on his trainers.  

“I can go by myself,” you said, a little defensively.

“Didn’t say you couldn’t."

You rolled your eyes and walked out, with Aemond a few paces behind.  “Come on!”

“It’s open 24 hours, we don’t need to run.”

Sometimes you really wanted to punch him.  That is, when you weren’t dreaming of hot, sweaty sex with him in your bed.  His bed.  Whichever bed.  It didn’t have to be a bed, really.

He caught up with you, walked down the block in easy silence.  You were veterans of many evenings spent studying together, watching movies together, making dinner for each other.  

And nothing more.

You walked into the familiar store, perusing the candy aisle to replenish your stash before heading toward the energy drink section.  

“Aemond?”

Fuck this shit.  You knew that voice.  Alys Rivers, the teaching assistant who went through students like sick people went through Kleenex.  How she hadn’t gotten her claws into Aemond yet, you didn’t know.  He was the hottest guy in any of your classes.  

“Alys.”

You stayed where you were, one aisle over, but the huge mirror on the corner gave you a pretty good view of the situation.  Alys was wearing heels - heels? - and a tight dress and was stepping closer and closer to Aemond. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while, you look good in black.”

Her voice was pure silken seduction, and you wished for a moment, you were just a little like her.  To have her confidence, to have her complete lack of caring what people thought.  Then again, people thought pretty awful things about her, but still.  You looked down at your boring sweatpants and ratty sweatshirt and sighed.

“Thanks.  I have to go find my-”

“Oh, are you here with someone?”

At that point you decided it was time to cut this shit show short and walked over to them.  

Alys turned, looked you up and down and smiled sweetly.  “oh, it’s just your little roommate.”

Aemond mouthed thank you behind her back and you saw him visibly relax.  

You could have fun with this.

“What are you doing here, Alys?  Picking someone- I mean, something up?”  You went around her and stood close to Aemond.  “And by the way, Aemond and I are dating.  You must be out of the loop.”

You saw her eyes widen, then she looked from you to Aemond and back to you.  “You’re dating . . . her?”  She started to smile and you wanted to punch her impossibly perfect face.

You wrapped an arm around Aemond’s waist, and he put his arm around your shoulders.  “Yeah, yeah,” he said, not too convincingly.  “We’re very happy.”  He looked down at you and, eyes narrowing for a second, placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth.  

Alys tilted her head.  “Okay.  Sure.”  She took a couple of steps back.  “I’ll see you around, Aemond.”  Turning, she walked around the aisle.

“We’ll see you around,” you threw out as she disappeared.  “Come on, honey,” you grabbed Aemond’s hand and dragged him to the register.

* * * * * 

He carried the bags of coffee while you chugged a Red Bull.  He hadn’t said a thing since leaving the bodega and by the time you got to your apartment you were so mortified that you just wanted to go hide in your bed and forget all about it.  You were glad you had started making plans for after graduation.  The thought of not seeing Aemond every day was already making you dread the summer, so you had decided to road trip across the continent, distract yourself from the thought of spending the rest of your life without him.

“Want me to make a fresh pot?”

“Look, I’m sorry about that. It just seemed you wanted to get away from her, but if I read that wrong, I apologize.”  You grabbed your dirty mug and began washing it out in the kitchen sink.  

“I’m sure if you go back, she’ll still be there, roaming the aisles for fresh meat to drain of blood.”

You turned off the faucet, grabbed a towel to begin drying your mug.

“I’m still surprised that you haven’t yet ridden the Rivers Bicycle, so I mean, go, by all means.  I’m sure she didn’t believe the part about us dating.”

You dried your mug, set it down, and then realized he hadn’t said a thing.  When you turned, he was leaning against the wall, arms crossed.  His face gave nothing away, but his eyes were pure blue fire.  

He uncrossed his arms, took one step toward you.

“Do you want to know why I haven’t fucked Alys Rivers?  Because she has offered.”

“Um, well, it’s none of my business,” you started, suddenly feeling a little caged in within the tiny kitchen.

“Or why I haven’t dated anyone in the last year?” He took another step toward you.

You took a step back, and felt the edge of the counter against your back.  “I didn’t know that.”

He took a third step, and then he was barely inches from you.  “Why I didn’t want to kiss you in the bodega?”

Ah.  That’s what this was about.  That you’d pushed him to do something he hadn’t wanted to do.  “I get it.  I mean, you didn’t have you, really.”

He closed the distance between the two of you and grabbed your face in his hands.  

You had wrecked this.  You had wrecked any chance with him, and now you had wrecked the friendship.  You could only stare up at him and hope he didn’t outright hate you.  

“That was not what I wanted for our first kiss.”

You let out a small breath, and then he was brushing his lips against yours and you wrapped your arms around him.  His hands went under your sweatshirt to grab your waist as he began tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.  Parting your lips for him, you wrapped one hand around the pale silver strands of his hair, let him lift you off the ground as he began taking you somewhere.

He placed you down, still kissing you, and you realized it was his bed.  “Is this okay?” he asked softly as he pulled back.

You smiled up at him.  “It is more than ok, Aemond,” you grabbed at the jacket he wore to push it off him and he tugged it off, then the red jacket and then his shirt.  You yanked off your sweatshirt and the t-shirt beneath, and he came back to you, greedy hands feeling every inch of skin they could find, helping you push off your sweatpants and underwear, touching your face with such gentleness you almost started tearing up.

“I was so afraid,” he whispered, “so fucking terrified.”

“Me too.  I thought I had ruined everything,” you confessed, and he shook his head.  He kissed you again, the taste of him sweet and spicy at the same time, while you ran your hands down his back, reveling in the feel of his skin.  He pushed the rest of his clothing off, sighed when he felt your leg curl around his. 

“Wait,” he said suddenly, and reached over to his nightstand, fishing out a condom.

‘Need some help with that?” you asked, and he shook his head, tearing the foil open with his teeth.

He tossed the wrapper aside.  “I don’t think I can survive you touching me right now,” he replied, and once he was done, took you in his arms.  He was so warm, his skin heated against yours, the fire in his eyes not abating as he began entering you.  You pulled him down to kiss him, memorizing the sharp angles of his face with your fingertips.  “You are everything I’ve ever wanted,” he murmured softly in between heated kisses.  

“There’s no one but you,” you whispered, “I only want you, Aemond.”

He took your mouth, nipped at your bottom lip before letting go.  “You have me, you have me body and soul.”  He began rocking his hips, his hands under your shoulders, securing you there so he could thrust harder, your gasps and moans growing in volume.

There was only him and you, the world outside immaterial as you saw and heard and felt only him.  You arched against him, and he moaned, the feel of you as intoxicating to him as the feel of him was to you.  His hips snapped against you and you whimpered, so he did it again.  

“I want you to come for me,  I’ve dreamed of making you come, of hearing you coming for me,” he said in your ear, and his teeth tugged on your earlobe.  You moaned at the words, at the intensity in his voice, and felt the orgasm swirling, rushing to tear you apart.  When it hit you, the sharp and sweet devastation of release, you cried out, clinging to him as you shattered.

* * * * * 

“Tell me,” Aemond murmured, brushing your hair off your face as he cradled you to him, “that road trip you’re planning after graduating.  Is there room for one more in your car?”

You smiled, delighted at the thought of him spending the summer with you.  “I thought you had that internship lined up.”

He nodded.  “I do, but they’re open to starting in the fall.”  He began kissing your neck and you closed your eyes.  “And I want to spend time with you.”  One hand closed over one of your breasts, squeezing gently.  “Ah, hold on,” he said before reaching into his nightstand again.

“Give me that,” you said, taking the condom out of his hand.  You tore it open and moved to straddle his legs.  Smiling at him, you began putting the condom on him.  Aemond gasped, his hands clutching the sheets as you slowly rolled the condom over his hard length.  

He started breathing hard, his eyes never moving from your face.  You continued rolling the condom down while he struggled to remain still.  “Fuck,” he muttered.  You felt his thighs twitching as you finished, and then moved up to lower yourself over him.  He bit down on his lower lip as you began to take him in and he grabbed your hips to bring you down completely, moaning as he filled you.

This wasn’t going to take long, you knew.  Just watching him become almost desperate with the need to have you had turned you on so much that you’d almost come when he’d filled you.  “Aemond,” you said sweetly.

“Yeah.”

You started rocking your hips and he gasped.  “I want you to come for me,  I’ve dreamed of making you come, of hearing you coming for me,”  You began to move faster, chasing the high of release once again.

“Fuck,” he said, louder this time, and grabbed your hips, thrusting up into you.  You felt him get even harder inside you and it was too much, you let your head fall back, your hands grabbing your breasts and let the orgasm take you.  You felt his grip on your hips tighten painfully as he pulled you down hard, his entire body taut.  You heard him groan, his voice hoarse, before you collapsed on his chest.

* * * * * 

“How many hours until class?”

Aemond opened an eye, turned his head to look at his phone.  “Three.”

“Fuck.”

“You’ll do fine.  It’s your best subject, you’ll ace the exam.”

He held you close, dropping kisses on your hair ever so often, both of you unable to sleep now that you had each other.  You traced random paths on his skin, beheld the face you had loved in secret for so long, and let the light slowly turn the night to dawn on his bedroom window.

.

.

@arryn-nyx   @greenowlfactif  @hydrationqueensworld    @megzdoodle@melsunshine  @queenofshinigamis     @throughgoeshamilton   @travelingmypassion​  @kaemond-zafiro    

[fandomtherapy44]

castiel x reader

Summary: This story is from the perspective of Y/n Winchester. The sister Of Sam and Dean. We will be starting from season four since sadly we did not get Misha Collins as Castiel throughout the whole series. It will start off as a friendship, but it will grow more as the series goes on. I will be skipping some episodes even though they are great episodes they do not push the story forward. I am so excited to get to write this since there are not many Castiel X reader stories out there. Okay without further due Love War & Grace enjoy the Story.

Paring: Castiel X Reader

Word count: 4,674

Warnings: Some language, Typical Supernatural violence, Spoilers for season four of Supernatural

I got the divider from

Firefly Graphics

POV:(Y/n)

Wow, wow, wow my life is well let’s just say people aren’t usually yearning for it like a Disney movie. My feet still hurt from wearing those heels. I mean props to the people who rock them but with our lifestyle I don’t really have the room to wear them. We entered the comic book store to ask anyone if they had experienced anything of the regular ghost list. “Uh... can I help you?” The man asked, looking a little confused. 

“Hi. We sure hope so. Agents DeYoung, Shaw, Ross. Just need to ask you a few questions.” I said pointing to the three of us. “Notice anything strange in the building in, last couple of days?” Sam asked, putting away his badge. “Like what?” “Well, some other tenants reported flickering lights.” “Uh, I don't think so. Why?” “What about noises? Any skittering in the walls? Kind of like rats?” “And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?” He asked very skeptical. “Uh, we want to make sure we leave no stone unturned even… rodents.”  I said not believing my own sentence. 

“What about cold spots? Feel any sudden drops in temperature?” Sam asked again.The man smiled like he knew something. “I knew it! You guys are LARPing, aren't you?” Uh what? “Excuse me?” Dean questioned. “You're fans.” “Fans of what?” “What is "LARPing"?” I asked. “Like you don't know. Live-Action Role-Play! And pretty hardcore, too.” “I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about.” “you're asking questions like the building's haunted. Like those guys from the books. What are they called? Uh... "Supernatural." Two guys, a girl, use fake IDs with rock aliases, hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires. What are their names? Uh... Steve and Dirk,Y/n? Uh, Sal and Dane,Y/n?” “Sam and Dean, Y/n?” I answered. 

“That's it!” oh no come on. “You're saying this is a book?” Dean questioned. “Books. It was a series. Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground cult following.” He walked over to the bargain bin which is fitting with our lives. “Let's see. Um... Ah. Yeah” He pulls out a book with two buffed-up guys and a girl whose shirt was too low for my liking. “That's the first one, I think.” he said, handing it to me. “"Supernatural" by Carver Edlund. "Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths." I read out. “Give me that.” Sam grabbed it from my hands. “We're gonna need all the copies of "Supernatural" you've got.”

 

For the past two hours, we have been reading supernatural books like we were cramming for tests on our own lifes. I am currently reading about how in book scarecrow Y/n was so conflicted between the two brother sides and how she didn’t know if she could keep this family together. “This guy makes me sound like I don't have a personal life. Could you believe that.” I said to my aforementioned brothers and all I got was silence. “Guys this is the part you agree with me.” “I don’t know Y/n.” “What!? I have a life!” Dean sighed looking down. “When was the last time you went out, with friends or made friends?” “I-” “That aren’t hunterters” “That’s-” “And aren’t us.” 

“You know what you guys have no friends either so shut it.” “Either way this stuff is crazy. Everything is in here. I mean everything. From the racist truck to – to me having sex. I'm full-frontal here, guys.” “How come we haven't heard of them before?” Dean and I sat at the table where Sam was researching the books online. “They're pretty obscure. I mean, almost zero circulation. Uh, started in '05. The publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. And, uh, the last one – "No Rest For The Wicked" –Ends with you going to hell.” Sam said talking to Dean. “I reiterate. Freaking insane.” “Check it out. There’s actually fans. There’s not many of them, but still. Did you read this?” Dean said checking out the fansite.

“Let me see.” He pulled the screen so we could both see. “Although for fans, they sure do complain a lot. Listen to this – Simpatico says "The demon storyline is trite, clichéd, and overall craptastic." Yeah, well, screw you, Simpatico. We lived it.” Yeah and lots of trama to go with it. “Yeah. Well, keep on reading. It gets better.” “There are "Sam girls" and "Dean girls" “Y/n boys” and – what's a "slash fan"?” I read out. “As in... Sam-slash-Y/n-Dean. Together.” Sam told us. Dean and I do a double-take at that. “Like, together together?” “Yeah.” “They do know we're siblings right?.” I almost shouted in surprise.

“Doesn't seem to matter.” “Oh, come on. That... That's just sick. We got to find this Carver Edlund.” I said closing the laptop. “Yeah, that might not be so easy.” “Why not?” Dean questioned. “No tax records, no known address. Looks like "Carver Edlund” is a pen name.” “Somebody’s gotta know who he is.”

“So you published the "Supernatural" books?” Sam asked the woman who clearly loved this trash series. “Yep. Yeah. Gosh. These books... You know, they never really got the attention they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap. You know – "Doctor Sexy, M.D."? She scoffed. “Please.” “Right. Well, we're hoping that our article can... shine a light on an underappreciated series.” I said.  “Yeah, yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press then m-maybe we could start publishing again.” She said sitting down. Oh god please no. 

“No, no, no, no. God, no. I mean, why – why would you want to do that? You know, it's, uh, such a complete series, what with Dean going to hell and all.” Dean nice save. “Oh, my god! That was one of my favorite ones because Dean was so... strong... and sad and brave. And Sam... I mean, the best parts are when they'd cry. You know, like in – In "Heart," when Sam had to kill Madison, the first woman since Jessica he really loved. And in "Home," when Dean had to call John and ask him for help.” She started to explain some of her favorites but for us, it was some of the most traumatizing memories.

 “Gosh... if only real men were so open and in touch with their feelings.” I am laughing so much inside right now. “Real men?” Dean asked, offended. “I mean, no offense. How often do you cry like that, hmm?” “Is that supposed to be funny?” I “elbowed Dean for him to realize to shut up. “Lady, this whole thing is funny.” I guess it didn’t work. “How do I know you three are legit, hmm?” She said with suspension eyeing us. “Oh, trust me. We, uh... we're legit.” I said in a deflated response. “Well, I don't want any smart-ass article making fun of my boys and girl.” “No! No, no, no. Never. “ Sam tried he tried. “We – We are actually, um... big fans.” I am trying to salvage it. 

“Hmm. You've read the books?” “Cover to cover.” “All of it.” “What's the year and model of the car?” Of course, Dean answered that one. “It’s a 1967 Chevy Impala.” “What's May 2nd?” “That's my – Uh... that's Sam's birthday.” “January 24th is Dean's.” “November 2nd being Y/n’s.” I added in quickly so as to not look like I didn't know what I was talking about. “Sam's score on the LSAT?” Shit I hope she doesn't ask about my last grade in math I got. “One… Seventy-four?” Sam answered, unsure of his own test scores. “Ok here’s the last one. What was the name of Y/n’s first love?” The boys both look at me and I look down. “That’s a trick question … she’s never had one.”  

“Okay. Okay. What do you want to know?” “What’s Carver Edlund's real name?” I quickly said moving away from my broken non non-existent love life. “Oh, no. I – No. Sorry, I can’t do that.” “We just want to talk to him. You know, get the "Supernatural" story in his own words.” “He’s very private. It’s like Salinger.” Yeah sure, Salinger. “Please. Like I said – we are, um… ... big... big fans.” Sam had pulled his shirt collar so you could see his tattoo and Dean disgruntled did the same and I pulled my sleeve up to show my wrist. “Awesome. You know what? I got one, too.” She said as she pulled down her skirt to show the one on her ass. “Whoa. You are a fan.” I elbowed Dean again for that. “Okay. His name's Chuck Shurley. And he's a genius, so don't piss him off.” 

I rang the doorbell to this Chuck Shurely’s house and who answered I was expecting and not at the same time. “You Chuck Shurley?” Dean asked in his pissed-off voice. “The Chuck Shurley who wrote the "Supernatural" books?” “Maybe. Why?” “I'm Dean. This is Sam. That’s Y/n The Dean and Sam and Y/n  you've been writing about.” I gave a little wave. And he closed the door. I rang the door again. “Look, uh... I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really, I do. It's, uh, it's always nice to hear from the fans. But, uh, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life.” He tries to shut it again but I stop it.

“See it’s funny you say that because we do have lives and You've been using them to write your books.” I said a little aggressively. Dean pushed inside the house. “Now, wait a minute. Now, this isn't funny.” Chuck was fearful. “Damn straight, it's not funny.” I put my hand on Dean’s shoulder to calm him down just a tad. “Look, we just want to know how you're doing it.” “I'm not doing anything.”

“Are you a hunter?” I asked. “What? No. I'm a writer.” “Then how do you know so much about demons? And Tulpas, and changelings?”Dean again advances on Chuck and he falls back on the couch.“ Is this some kind of "Misery" thing? Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a "Misery" thing!” “That’s an amazing story but no we are not fans.” I said sitting next to him. “Well, then, what do you want?!” “I’m Y/n, that’s Sam and Dean.” “Sam and Dean and Y/n are fictional characters. I made them up! They're not real!” 

We drag him outside and show him our car and more importantly the trunk.”Are those real guns?” “Yup. This is real rock salt, these are real fake IDs.” “Well, I gotta hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans.That’s, that’s awesome. So, I-I think I've got some posters in the house.” He starts to try to back away from us. “Chuck, stop.” “Please. Wait. Please, don't hurt me.” “How much do you know? Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?” Sam asked. “The question is how do you.” “Because I wrote it?” “You kept writing?” I questioned. “Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt, but those books never came out. Okay, wait a minute. This is some kind of joke, right? Did that – Did Phil put you up to this?”

“Well, nice to meet you. I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam and my sister Y/n.” “The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down.”

We all got back in the house and Chuck was pouring himself a drink. He glugs it down. “Oh! Oh, you're still there.” “Yup.” “You're not a hallucination.” I wish sometimes. “Nope.” “Well, there's only one explanation. Obviously, I'm a god.” “You're not a god.” Sam said to him annoyed. “How else do you explain it? I write things and then they come to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god. The things I put you through – The physical beatings alone. And for you Y/n having no time to find love or no one to find-” “Chuck you are not a God.” I am now annoyed.

“Yeah, and we're still in one piece.” “I killed your father. I burned your mother alive. And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica.” Great memories. “Chuck…” About all three of us were now about ready to slap Chuck. “All for what? All for the sake of literary symmetry. I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for... entertainment.” “You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay? You didn't create us.” “Did you really have to live through the bugs?” “Yes, it was disgusting.” I said shivering remembering that week. “What about the ghost ship?” “Yes, that too.” “I am so sorry. I mean, horror is one thing, but to be forced to live bad writing... if I would have known it was real, I would have done another pass.” “Chuck, you're not a god!” Dean said raising his voice. “We think you're probably just psychic.” I said stepping in.

“No. If I were psychic, you think I'd be writing? Writing is hard.” “It seems that somehow, you're just... focused on our lives.” “Yeah, like laser-focused. Are you working on anything right now?” “Holy crap.” Chuck said going over to his desk pulling out papers. “What?” “The, uh, latest book? It's, uh, it's kind of weird.” “It can not get more weird than finding a whole book series about your life.” I said with sarcasm. “"Weird" how?” “It's very Vonnegut.” “"Slaughterhouse-Five" Vonnegut or "Cat's Cradle" Vonnegut?” Dean answered. “What?” Sam and I asked surprised. “What?” Dean said back defensively. “It's, uh, "Kilgore Trout" Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself, at my house... confronted by my characters.” OK so added on weird.

Sam is throwing the laundry in while Dean and I sit together to read Chuck’s story. “I’m sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself sitting in a laundromat reading about myself. My head hurts.” “There's got to be something this guy's not telling us.” Sam added in. “"Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine. He was starting to have doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth.”” Dean read out and he was right. “Stop it.” “"'Stop it,' Sam said." Guess what you do next.” I read out. “Sam turned his back on Dean, his face brooding and pensive." I mean, I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can't see your face, but those are definitely your "brooding and pensive" shoulders.” Dean continued. “You just thought I was a dick.” “The guy's good.”

Chuck called us back in a frenzy very worried about something. “So... You wrote another chapter?” Sam asked slowly so Chuck wouldn't explode. “This was all so much easier before you were real.” I agree with that. “We can take it; just spit it out.” “You two especially are not gonna like this.” He said looking at Dean and I. “I didn't like hell.” “It's Lilith. She's coming for Sam.” “Coming to kill him?” I ask. “When?” “Tonight.” “She's just gonna show up? Here?” “Uh... let’s see, uh, "Lilith patted the bed seductively. Unable to deny his desire, Sam succumbed, and they sank into the throes of fiery demonic passion."

“Eww not again." “You're kidding me, right?” Sam laughed. “You think this is funny?” Dean asked angrily. “You don't? I mean, come on. "Fiery demonic passion"?” It does sound ridiculous but then again he did with Ruby so nothing’s out the window. “It's just a first draft.” “Wait, wait, wait, wait. Lilith is a little girl.” “No, uh, this time she's a "comely dental hygienist from Bloomington, Indiana." “ Oh fantastic. “Great. Perfect. So what happens after the... "fiery demonic" whatever?” I ask. “I don't know, it hasn't come to me yet.” “Dean, Y/n, look, there's nothing to worry about. Lilith and me? In bed?” “How does this whole psychic thing of yours work?”

“You mean my process?” “Yes, your "process."” “Well, it usually starts with a headache. A really bad headache. Aspirin is useless, so... I drink. Until I fall asleep. The first time it happened, I thought it was just a crazy dream.” “The first time you dreamt about us?” I asked. “It flowed. It just, it kept flowing. It still does. I-I can't stop it, really.” “You can't seriously believe –” “Humor Us Sam.” I said putting my hand on his shoulder. “Look, why don't we, we just… Take a look at these and see what's what.” Dean said picking up the manuscript. “You –” “...knew you were gonna ask for that. Yeah.” 

We are driving and Sam is reading the Manuscript. “Dean, come on. "The minivan accident wasn't that bad, but Dean was still seeing stars. He scratched absently at the pink flower Band-Aids on his face." “ “I would love to see that personally.” I said from the back seat. “So?” “So, I've seen you gushing blood. You'd use duct tape and bar rags before you'd put on a pink flower Band-Aid.” “What's your point?” “My point is this – all of this – is totally implausible, it's nuts.”

“Look, Sam, He's been right about everything so far. You think he's just gonna ground out at first now?” “Huh. "Dean slid behind the wheel of his beloved Impala and drove off, the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping like the wings of a crow." “A tarp?” “Yeah. On the rear window. And you drive it like that.” “Okay so he doesn't get the details right but that doesn't mean he's wrong about the end result.” “So we’re just gonna run?” “Dude, we are a long way from ready for a face-to-face death match with Lilith.” We pull up to a roadblock and there are police next to it. “What seems to be the problem?” “Bridge is out ahead.” “We're just trying to get out of town.”

“Yeah, afraid not.” “Is there a detour?” “Nope.” “There's not a side road that takes us to the highway?” “To get to the highway, you have to cross that river. To cross the river, you have to take that bridge.” “How deep's the river?” I ask. “Sorry. Afraid you three are gonna have to spend the night in town.”

Dean is now looking at the manuscript while we are ordering at a diner. “Hey, this could be a good thing. I mean, if this is what puts us on the path to Lilith, then all we got to do is get off the path.” “Dean’s right this is a guide to not to do the devil’s tango with Lilith.” “How do you mean?” “It's a blueprint of what not to do. I mean, if the pages say that we go left –” “Then we go right.” “Exactly. We get off-book. We never make it to the end. It's opposite day. It said that we, uh, we get into a fight. So, no fighting. No research for you… No saving us Y/n.” “No bacon cheeseburger for you.” I said glaring at Dean. “Yeah, no problem. I'll just order something else. Hi, uh, what's good?”

“Well, if you like burgers, Oprah's girlfriend said we have the best bacon cheeseburgers in the country.” “Ha sometimes God does give me Bones." I said laughing to myself. “I'll just have the cobb salad, please.” Sam ordered. “Chicken strips and fries for me please.” I said. “I'll have the... veggie tofu burger. Thanks.” “This whole thing's ridiculous.” “Lilith is ridiculous?” “The idea of me hooking up with her is.” “Right like you would never do that.” I said sarcastically. “Guys, for the first time, we have warning that Lilith is close.” “So?”

“So... we've got the jump on her. If we know when she's coming, we know where she's – this is an opportunity.” “Are you – It frustrates me when you say such reckless things.” Dean said trying not to get angry. “Well, it frustrates me when you'd rather hide that fight.” They trying very hard not to fight. “Alrighty here y’all’s food.” The waitress put the plates down. “Thank you. It's not hiding. It's being smart. It's picking your battles. This is a battle that we are not ready to fight. Oh, my god. This is delicious. Tofu is amazing!” Dean committed biting into his burger. “I am so sorry. I gave you the bacon cheeseburger by mistake.” It’s all coming together.

Dean and I praked the car after dropping Sam off  snd were walking away when we looked back and it looked like teenagers were looking into baby. “Hey!” Dean screamed out and went to cross the street. “Wait dean DEAN!” He had got hitten by an minivan.

“I'm so sorry!” “Lady you hit my brother with your car what do you mean Sorry!?” Her daughter was putting … pink band-aids on Dean and he came back. “Dean! Dean you ok?” He looks up and sees the car. “Oh, no…” He ran over to the car and the back window was busted open. So here we are driving to Chuck’s house with the tarp flapping in the back.

Chuck enters the house carrying a huge bag of beer. They start to talk and Dean keeps on asking how Chuck knows everything and he gets to the point that he’s about to punch when someone shows up who I did not expect. “Dean, let him go!” “ This man is to be protected.” “Cas!” “Why?” “He's a Prophet of the Lord.” What the HELL? 

“You... You're Castiel... aren't you?” Chuck said with amazement. “It's an honor to meet you, Chuck. I... admire your work” Cas picked up one of the books and flipped through them. “Whoa, whoa, what? This guy, a prophet? Come on, he's – he's... he's practically a Penthouse Forum writer.” “Did you know about this?” I ask Chuck. “I, uh, I might have dreamt about it.” “And you didn't tell us?!” “It was too preposterous. Not to mention arrogant. I mean, writing yourself into the story is one thing, but as a prophet? That's like M. Night-level douchiness.”

“This is the guy who decides our fate?” I ask Cas quietly. “He isn't deciding anything. He's a mouthpiece – a conduit for the inspired word.” “The word? The word of god? What, like the New New Testament?” “One day, these books – they'll be known as the Winchester gospel.” “You got to be kidding me.” Chuck, Dean, and I say together. “I am not... kidding you.” “If you'd all please excuse me one minute.” Chuck goes upstairs. “Him? Really?” “You should've seen Luke.” “Why'd he get tapped?” “I don't know how prophets are chosen. The order comes from high up on the celestial chain of command.” “How high?” “Very.” 

“Well, whatever. How do we get around this?” I ask. “Around what?” “The Sam-Lilith love connection. How do we stop it from happening?” “What the prophet has written can't be unwritten. As he has seen it, so it shall come to pass.” 

Dean goes into the hotel room to get Sam while I wait outside. And Cas pops up beside me. “Hello, Y/n.” “Hey Cas I met your uh friend Zachariah he kind of sucks.” “Yes well, Zachariah's methods can be extreme.” “Extreme!? he made my brothers and I forget who we are!” “Im sorry, Y/n” “You don’t have to be sorry you didn’t do it.” We stare at each other for a bit before I rember something. “Oh I got you something.” I said hading him a flip phone he looked confused. “Why would I need a phone I can just fly next to you when I ever I need to.”

“Well, Cas believe it or not it’s not really working out for us I mean you scare the crap out of us every time. Also, it’s so I can call you.” “Call me?” “Yeah well, I hate that I can't exactly fly next to you so that is the next best thing so do me a favor and call me even if you don't have any information about the upcoming apocalypse I want to know you're safe.” He ponders what I said. “Y/n?” “Yeah, Cas.” “Thank you.” “No problem.” He gets closer as to hug me but gets interrupted by Dean stomping out of the hotel room. “Dean, where’s Sam?” I asked. “He said he’s staying.” “HE’S WHAT!?” “That’s what I said he wants to fight Lilith now.” “My gosh, we are stupid sometimes,”

I said thinking back to the supernatural books and how the characters were depicted, sometimes being stupid. “Cas can you help?” He said walking over with hope to the angel. “I'm not sure what I can do.” “Drag Sam out of here, now. Before Lilith shows up.” “It's a prophecy. I can't interfere.” “Look Cas we have done everything you have asked But now I'm asking. I need your help. Please.” I said pleading with him. “What you're asking, it's... not within my power to do.” “Why? 'Cause it's "divine prophecy"?” Dean questioned angrily. “Yes.” “So, what – We're just supposed to sit around and, and wait for it to happen?”

“I'm sorry.” “Screw you. You and your mission. Your God. If you don't help me now, then when the time comes and you need me... don't bother knocking. Come on Y/n.” He turns to walk away and I look at Cas a bit heartbroken and I think he saw that. “Y/n Y/n!” “What?!” “You must understand why I can't intercede. Prophets are very special. They're protected.” “Right yeah.” “If anything threatens a prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat. Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're heaven's most terrifying weapon.” “And these archangels, they're tied to prophets?” “Yes.” “So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon –” “Then the most fearsome wrath of heaven would rain down on that demon. Just so you understand... why I can't help.” He just gave us the answer without giving the answer. I get a smile on myself. I run up to him to give a quick but crushing hug. “Thanks, Cas” “Good luck."

We had pushed Chuck into the room and it worked the room got invaded by this powerful white light and it dispersed and along with it Lilith. We got to finally leave the town. “ So she offered a deal?” I questioned Sam. “That's what she said.” “To call the whole thing off – angels, seals, Lucifer rising, the whole nine?” Dean added into the question. “You didn't think once about taking it?” “You kidding me? You two spent all day trying to talk me off the Lilith track.” “I'm just saying…” “She would have found some way to weasel out of it. And all it would have cost us was our lives.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right.” “Anyway, that's not the point.” “What's the point?” I asked “The point is, she's scared. I could see it. Lilith is running.” “Running from what?” “Don't know. But she was telling the truth about one thing.” “What's that?” “She's not gonna survive the apocalypse. I'll make sure of that.” Sam left the conversation off at that and it left me wondering what was going to happen to us and It also really made me hope that Cas would call.

Hey, y'all hope you enjoyed the Chapter thank you so much for reading! I'm so sorry that this has taken so long been a busy month. Just to warn this is a slow burn so it will probably be a while before we get to a romantic relationship but I’m really liking the friendship between Cas and Y/n Im building and I hope you are too. Also, the next two chapters are some of my favorite episodes so look out for that.  And happy late Halloween.

[meme-archivist]

...hmm.

Sometimes. Sometimes there's a temptation. There's iron in your pocket, a last resort. It isn't iron, it's a handgun, from a future that wasn't. Caseless, no traces, hollowpoint bullets. They'll kill someone quite dead.

Never fired. You hope it won't ever need to be fired. You know it'll have to be because it was addressed from yourself, with very specific instructions.

That thought sits at the base of your spine like some unpleasant charring, the forbidden act. Caution, caution-

And yet it's so tempting to try. The theory, circulating still that maybe every action is already written in, and that there's some meta-time, maybe you could save that storyteller who died on friendly shores, maybe help that college man along his path, see where he can take his ideas-

It's too much sometimes.

There's a lot of dark corners to sit and wait and think and cry and-

...meet others.

Not travelers. Strict rules. Never others. But... The peoples of those times. Sometimes, unpleasant. Other times, comforting. Rarely, helpful. Where to begin? Where to end?

They look lost, you look lost, you are lost. Drifting through time, in a sea of cultures. And yet maybe this is where you're supposed to be.

It's easier to go from place to place, to walk in the endless shadows and corners, the edges of the history pages. Decent work there too, few have gone for the "boring" parts of the world. Where the camera of history doesn't look. Easier, in some ways. Simple to slip away from the world.

There's a young man in 1925, America. You remember him well. Whipcord of a man, tired eyes and a wide smile. He manned the desk of a general store, and always was ready to talk when the days were slow. He laughed well, though any ideas of being a comedian were out the window. You don't know how he dies. You don't really want to know. But you check anyways. It's unsurprising, a gang death. Shot by accident, automatic sprays of gunfire during a surprise hit by one group on another. A bystander with two bullets in the chest.

A finger nudge. You talk with him a few times about the violence. He's worried, not too much, most of the shootouts are in Chicago according to the papers. Besides, they're slugging it out with the feds in the big cities. A small one like this...

You buy something that'd be known as a bulletproof vest in the future. It's a body defense according to the label, one of the good ones. The seller looked sleazy but you knew he just didn't come off well.

A little talk with the young man, and then one day, pass him the armor. It's silk and manganese steel, not proof to machinegun bullets but the submachine guns? Convince him to wear it. Wave off the money. Call yourself an eccentric with too much fear and too little sense. Tell him he can repay you by wearing the damn thing because armor doesn't help much at the bottom of a cupboard.

Eventually, leave for a while on a trip to Wyoming. Say a friend's promising something, though she won't say what. Say your goodbyes. Check the scene a month later, from a room inside a tall building.

It all comes down the same way, but for the one young man who survives.

...

The itch comes elsewhere. A middle aged woman who wouldn't get any further, finds a battered textbook. She reads it every day, until the pages come apart. It doesn't go further than that, the choke of society pulls her to heel, but her children and friends become well versed and embarrass a few crooked merchants.

A man-at-arms guards a village. Worn by time and coming close to retirement, he's overworked by a good amount. You pose a little, talk a young woman into caring for him, clear some bad air between him and one of his fellows. Instead of falling asleep at his post at the moment of a surprise raid, he's well rested and his gear is oiled. The raid pierces the defense, but you see him fight a retreat instead of dying in the muck.

A wandering swordswoman with too many dreams and too big of a heart. She happens across another, a little older, a little wiser. Instead of dying for nothing, they manage to stay hidden, passing themselves off by day, helping who they can.

Eventually, there's a hand on your shoulder, coming back home. But there is no security team, and there is no locked door. There's only a new office, and a new title.

People don't realize how liminal it is to be a time traveler. How you don't ever really feel like you're in the time you are. Even when you're in your own time, everything is off, your coat was something you bought in interwar France, the book you're reading on the train is from a bookstore you had to visit in Victorian London, even your necklace was given to you by a Neolithic shaman, from a culture the rest of the world can never know. You find yourself acting strange even when in the present, much less in the past you have to work in.

You remember meeting a eunuch in 10th century China, and having him be one of the only people smart and observant enough to realize you were from a diffrent time. You could talk honestly with him, though still you couldn't reveal too much about your time. And it was still so strange hearing him talk casually about work and mention plotting assassinations. You're not allowed to but you still visit him sometimes.

You remember that the few times you were allowed to tell someone everything it was tragic. You knew a young woman who lived in Pompeii, who you had gotten close to, a few days before she would inevitably die. On your last day there you looked into her eyes, knowing soon they'd be stone and ash, that the beauty of her hair would be washed away by burning magma. And you hugged her, and told her that you wanted her to be safe, and told her she was wonderful and that you wanted her to be comfortable and happy. And you let her tongue know the joy of 21st century chocolate, and her eyes see the beauty of animation, knowing she deserved to have those joys, knowing it wouldn't matter soon. And you hugged her the last time, and told her she deserved happiness. And when you left without taking her it was like you were killing her yourself.

You want to take home everyone you're attached to. There's a college student you befriended in eighteen fifties Boston. And you can't help but see him try to solve problems you know humanity is centuries away from solving. And you just want to tell him. And it's not just that, the way he talked about the books and plays he likes, his sense of humor. There's so many people you want him to meet.

You feel the same way about a young woman you met on a viking age longship. She tells stories to her fellow warriors and traders, stories that will never fully get written down, stories that she tells so uniquely and so well. She has so many great ideas. You want so dearly to take her to somewhere she can share her stories, or where she can take classes with other writers, where she can be somewhere safe instead of being out at sea. She'll talk about wanting to be able to do something, or meet people, and you know you're so close to being able to take her, but you never can, unless she accidently finds out way too much then you can't.

You remember the longship that you met that young storyteller on. You were there before, two years ago for you, ten years later for the people on it. The young woman who told you stories wasn't there ten years later, you had been told why then but you only realize now, her uncle, who ran the ship, had been one of the first people to convert to Christianity in his nation. He killed her, either for not converting or for sleeping with women, you're not sure, but he killed her, and bragged about it when you met him ten years later.

You talk to the storyteller on the longship, ask her about the myths you're there to ask her about, the myths that she loves to tell. You look into her eyes knowing it's probably less then a year until her uncle takes her life. You ask her if you think that those who die of murder go to Valhalla. She tells you she hopes not, she doesn't see Valhalla as a gift but as a duty, she hopes for herself to go to Hel, where she wouldn't have to fight anymore. You slip and admit you're talking about her, telling her that you hope that's where she goes when she's killed. You hope to yourself you'll be forced to take her to the twenty first century, you're tempted even to make it worse, you want to have ruined her enough to be able to save her.

[peakyblindersxx]

drunk in love - john shelby x reader

a/n: hello my loves :) here is the john fic that i'm personally really excited about bc i fucking love him & i hope you guys like it!! i'm taking requests if you guys want me to write anything in specific and as always, feel free to message me :)

love, abi xxx

gif by: @deeptheon

prompt: you're john's secretary & he takes you on a trip.

warnings: nsfw!! smut with a teeny tiny bit of fluff if you squint, choking, power play, john being generally irresistible

There were many words to describe John Shelby. Cowardly was not one of them. In the short time you had known him, you had seen him fight god knows how many people, in countless bars across Birmingham. You had seen and heard stories of John blowing up buildings and setting bars on fire. And of course, there was the matter of his arrogance. John dripped confidence from his shoes to his slicked back hair. So cocky, in fact, that you almost wanted to tell him to shut up as much as you wanted to ride his face. Almost.

So, there you sat wistfully at your desk, sneaking glances of him in his office whenever you could. Not that you would even have a chance if you tried; you were his goddamn secretary. Despite the fact that he oozed arrogance, John was a good boss, who always approved your requests for days off. Sure, you were at his beck and call pretty much 24/7, but this also meant you had a front row seat to all the girls he fucked. The women were always stunning, making your hopes deflate even further. However, for the last month, there had been no women. You chalked it up to him finding some sort of girlfriend, so you kept your interactions with him as businesslike as possible. Deep down, through every meeting, phone call, and even just through the windows of his office, you drank in every second of John you could get. He was intoxicating; the smell of his cologne nearly brought you to your knees.

You snapped out of your thoughts, training your eyes back on the work in front of you and taking a drag from your cigarette. Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder. It was Lizzie, a cigarette between her slightly pursed lips. “John wants you in his office. He doesn’t seem mad, but then again, who knows,” she stated. You stood, smoothing out your red pleated skirt and black blouse and quickly opening your compact to make sure your lipstick hadn’t smudged. “Thanks, Lizzie,” you replied, shooting her a smile as she made her way back to her desk. You made your way across the open office space to John’s office, knocking softly on the frosted window pane that read Shelby Company, Ltd in gold lettering.

“Come in,” John called out, his voice muffled behind the wooden door. You turned the doorknob and entered his office, shutting the door behind you. John sat at a tufted leather chair, puffing from a cigar, flipping through a folder. His suit jacket was abandoned on the velvet settee that sat in front of the fireplace, the gold chains of his sleeve garters glistening in the light. The glow from the fireplace glinted off of John’s profile, catching the frame of his jaw just right. You admired the way the light reflected off of the rings on his hands, making you want to feel the cool metal against your body. His hair was neatly slicked back as usual, along with his dark grey vest, white dress shirt, and tie, making him command the attention of the room.

“Lizzie said you wanted to see me?” You questioned, standing at the back of the room.

“Have a seat, Y/N,” John responded, gesturing towards the empty chairs that sat in front of his oak desk. You sat, crossing your legs and tucking them under the chair. John took another puff from his cigar, smoke billowing through the room. “I need to go to London, and

I need you with me.” You were a little surprised at this, since John had never asked you to go somewhere this far with him before.

“For how long?” You asked, taking a cigarette out and lighting it, your lipstick staining it a dark pink as you took a drag. John’s blue eyes bored into yours as he absent-mindedly flicked his cigar, ashing it into the crystal ashtray on his desk. It was almost as if he could read your mind and see all the filthy things you were imagining him doing to you. God, he was fucking irresistable.

“A week,” John replied, shooting his glass of whiskey as he stood, making his way to a locked cabinet and pulling out a wad of pound notes. He peeled a number of them off, making his way towards you and holding them out for you to take, leaning back against his desk facing you. “Buy yourself some nice dresses, eh? There’s going to be a lot of dinners, and I need you there to take notes.”

You accepted the cash, taking a long drag from your cigarette as your eyes met John’s. You couldn’t bring yourself to resist the urge to flirt back. “What’s your favorite color?” John seemed a little surprised at the question, but his normal confidence quickly returned as he smirked. “Black. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, eh?”

You nodded as he poured himself another whiskey, daydreaming about the way his rough hands would feel around your throat. “Is that all, Mr. Shelby?” You asked, black kitten heels tapping against the carpet.

John nodded, taking a sip from his glass. “I’ll see you at eight tomorrow.” You stood, turning to walk out of John’s office as you felt his eyes on your figure. As you closed the door behind you, you shivered in expectation. A week alone with John Shelby. How were you going to manage to keep your hands to yourself?

***

The rest of the work day passed quickly, and you headed to the nearest department store, choosing three different black dresses. As much as you hated to admit it, you wanted to look good for John. You wanted him to want you; to feel that longing that you felt between your legs every time his eyes met yours. You chose a longer formal black dress made of silk, a black sequined dress for a party, and the last, a short black dress with fringe that made you look almost like a burlesque dancer. You knew it was risky, exposing that much skin, but then again, John Shelby wasn’t a normal man. He knew what he wanted and he took it, never paying mind to what others thought.

As the rest of the night flew by, you found yourself tossing and turning in bed. No matter how many times you touched yourself, you couldn’t get the image of John’s smirk out of your head. You wanted him to bend you over right in his office, and you didn’t care who heard. You wanted him to take everything you had to offer. Eventually, you fell asleep, waking up to the sound of birds chirping loudly outside your apartment window. You almost jumped out of bed, blood pumping with excitement. You got ready, slipping on a dark purple silk dress with black tights and purple pumps, stuffing your cigarette case and pocketbook in your black handbag. You poured yourself a cup of tea, hurrying to get all your bags ready as you didn’t want to keep John waiting.

Right as eight o’clock arrived, you heard a knock on your door. It was John, smelling sweetly of cologne and wearing a freshly pressed black pinstripe three piece suit with a grey tie. His cap sat tilted on his head, and dangling from his lips was a cigar. He was a fucking vision to behold, and your head spun at the thought of the two hour car ride in close quarters that you were about to endure. The driver came in to take your bags, leaving John to walk you to the car. He held out his hand to help you step into the Bentley, your skin buzzing with electricity where his fingers touched yours. John closed the door, making his way to the other side and sliding into the leather interior while the driver finished putting the bags in the trunk and made his way to the driver’s seat, starting the engine and taking off.

John’s blue-grey eyes met yours as he puffed at his cigar, cracking the window slightly to let the smoke waft out. “You pack everything we need?” You subconsciously pressed your legs together, filthy images swirling through your brain as you managed to ignore them. “Yes, Mr. Shelby, I got the list you sent me for what to bring. Did you need anything other than that?”

John shook his head no, putting out his cigar in the ashtray. A comfortable silence settled over the two of you as the car rumbled along over the brick roads.

“What’s your favorite color?” You looked over at John in surprise. He must have understood your confusion as he added, “You asked what mine was. I want to know yours.”

“Red,” you replied, fumbling for a cigarette, and when finding one, striking a match to light it.

John’s eyes fixed on your dark red stained lips. “Red, aye?”

Your instincts got the better of you. “Is there a problem with that, Mr. Shelby?”

“Call me John,” he said, words muffled by the cigarette in his mouth that he was lighting. After he finished, he took a drag, fixing his eyes back on you. “And, no. The opposite, actually.”

You weren’t brave enough to ask what that meant, so you let silence take over once again. Maybe later, when you had had a few drinks in you. What the fuck were you doing?

Finally, the dirt roads underneath once again turned into cobblestone, and you knew you were in London by the smell and smoke that hovered over the city. The Bentley rolled to a stop in front of a massive factory building, stretching blocks long. You could hear the yells of the workers from inside the car. John reached for his gun, loading it and affixing it back into his holster.

“We’ve got a meeting first, then dinner. Driver’s going to drop off our bags at the hotel. C’mon sweetheart, and stay by me. Who knows what these fuckers are going to pull around here,” John said, opening the door and reaching his hand out for you to take. You blushed at the pet name, taking John’s hand as he quickly whisked you off the street and into the building, up a flight of stairs where two men directed the two of you into a meeting room with a large table and dark leather chairs. John sank into the chair at the head of the table, and you slid into the seat next to him, taking out a notebook. Before you had any time to even write the date, John’s hand was on your waist, pulling you close to him. Your skin prickled with goosebumps at the proximity.

“If anybody pulls a fucking gun, you get behind me. You understand?” You nodded, crossing your legs at the ankle as you tried to focus your thoughts on something other than how fucking amazing John smelled. John’s hand left your waist as the door opened, the men whom he was meeting with entering the room. The meeting was uneventful, John successfully closing the deal with these men, who you found out were the Chinese. The driver picked you both up out front, taking the two of you back to your hotel to get changed for what you found out was a French restaurant in London’s downtown. The hotel room was a suite with two rooms, one for you and the larger one for John. You decided to wear the short black dress with fringe along with black fluffy kitten heels, and when John walked out of his room, the first word out of his mouth was “Fuck.” Your cheeks blushed a bright pink as John’s eyes traveled down your body.

“You look amazing.” John held out his arm for you to grab, leading you into the car as you took off. It didn’t take long to reach the restaurant, passing through busy streets packed with people of opulence. As John held the door for you to walk in, you almost gasped in amazement at the massive gold chandelier that hung from the ceiling. The waiter led you and John to your table, and as John pulled out your chair for you and walked around the table to sit at his, you almost couldn’t believe you were here, let alone with John Shelby, one of the biggest and by your standards most certainly the most handsome gangsters in Birmingham. Yet, there he sat across from you, looking fucking delectable in a dark grey three-piece suit and black tie.

The dinner was amazing, time passing quickly as the two of you fell into conversation. John Shelby was funny, you realized, and at the heart of it all, sweet. Soon, a glass of wine turned into five, and the driver eventually dropped the two of you back off at the hotel, as the other customers had complained about the raucous laughing coming from your table. You burst into the room giggling, John following close behind, as the two of you flopped onto the velvet settee, knees and shoulders brushing.

“God, you’re fucking pretty,” John said, eyes locking with yours. Your jaw almost dropped as your cheeks turned pink. “What?”

“You heard me,” John said, lighting a cigarette. “You’re fucking pretty.”

You stared at him, alcohol fueling your confidence. “Then why don’t you do something about it?” The words spilled out of your mouth. John wasted no time in pressing his lips against yours roughly, picking you up and setting you on the bed. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed himself against you, feeling his cock hard against your lower stomach, earning a grunt from John as he ripped off your dress, sending buttons flying across the room. You opened your mouth in protest, but John beat you to it. “I’ll buy you three new ones, yeah?” He questioned before running his hands down your hips, a finger slipping underneath the waistband of your black panties. Goosebumps ran down your skin and John chuckled, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

“God, you look so pretty all spread out for me. Better than I fucking imagined,” he said, pulling your panties down your legs and rubbing his thumb in circles on your clit. Your body jolted in response. “John,” you panted. “Oh fuck John, please don’t tease me..”

John grinned up at you, pushing one finger in you slowly. “What do you want? Tell me, darling.”

“Your mouth, John, please,” you gasped, squirming for some sort of relief. John responded by licking slowly up your cunt, flicking his tongue in circles around your clit before returning his attention to your pussy, his right hand rubbing your clit. You cried out, back arching as you pushed against John’s mouth. You felt him growl in response, vibrations pulsing throughout your body and sending you over the edge and you came all over John’s face. You attempted to catch your breath as John stood with a boyish smirk, wiping the back of his mouth with his sleeve before discarding his clothes, his large cock standing at attention against his taught stomach muscles.

“God you taste good,” John rumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think I’ll have you tomorrow for breakfast too,” he grinned. You laughed in response, John cutting that laugh short by running the head of his cock up and down your dripping cunt.

“Sir, please,” you whined, eyes widening when you realized what had just left your mouth. Before you could apologize, you felt John’s hand wrap around your throat.

“You going to be a good girl for me, hmm?” John’s blue eyes bored into yours.

“Yes, sir,” you whimpered, crying out as John entered you at a ridiculous pace, covering your mouth with his. He kissed like a starved man, hungry for everything you had to give, and you gave it gladly. John’s cock bumped up against your g spot with every thrust as he fucked you, your moans echoing throughout the hotel room.

“Your pussy is amazing,” John groaned as he fucked into you relentlessly. “Fucking mine now, yeah?”

You nodded, unable to form the proper words as John chuckled darkly. “Pretty little thing, can’t even talk when I’m fucking you this good, hm?” Your only reply was a moan as John gripped your throat tightly, causing you to see stars.

“That’s right, sweetheart, come all over my cock,” John crooned as you reached your release, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm. You cried out as John fucked you even harder, eyes locked with yours. “Mine,” John grunted, hips snapping flush with yours as he continued to thrust inside of you, your pussy squeezing around his cock as you neared your second orgasm.

“I want you to come in me, sir, please,” you begged, hands clawing at John’s back. John groaned in response, fucking you at the fastest pace he possibly could as your cries echoed off the walls before eventually releasing inside of you, falling onto the bed next you as the two of you caught your breath. John slung an arm around you, pulling you close to him as he locked his eyes with yours.

“I meant what I said, you know.” “What did you say?” You asked, brow furrowed with confusion.

“That you were pretty,” John said, sitting up to grab a cigarette and light it, his blue eyes glistening in the light of the fireplace. “I’ve thought about you more than I’d like to admit.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “And I’m not just drunk,” John continued, eyes meeting yours again. “I think I’m in love.”

“Me too.” You couldn’t stop the words from coming from your mouth. John followed them with a deep kiss, pulling you on top of him.

“I’m gonna fuck you until the sun comes up,” John grinned as you laughed, covering your mouth with his.

[cantillat-moved]

The princess’ presence was a welcomed one regardless of the situation he found himself in and Shirou would be remiss to don’t acknowledge how grateful he was that it had been Sonia who found him. Out of all the national lines he could have crossed, all the allies he could have stumbled upon, it is very likely he owned his life to her right now or at least his continuous safety. It was such a ridiculous amount of luck that he doubt that even the so-called Ultimate Luck would be able to pull something so outrageous. Still, he would rather not question it and merely be grateful for her assistance. Bless her heart. ❝ I believe I heard the pot calling the kettle black. ❞ the barb was gentle, displaying his concern. Whilst Shirou admitted to be a stubborn man who have been following the path he created for himself in almost obsessive fashion he also knew how devoted the princess was, oftentimes neglecting her own physical and emotional needs in order to help others. The biggest difference, of course, is that she was in a fine outfit out of a high class dinner and he was stitched up in bed wearing pajama pants and little else (he should probably be content to be wearing anything at all, but rather not think too hard about it).

The cute roar from her stomach caused him to chuckle. ❝ That brings me memories. ❞ it were his instincts of procuring meals for famished blonde royals that led to their fateful meeting that day. ❝ Not many things beat comfort food, no matter how fancy the meal might be. ❞ the young man actually had a stint as a chef during one of his many jobs – one of those noveau rich families trying to pretend to be highest of high class would demand him to use all the finest ingredients and make the best meals “like in Europe” they would say but would actually express dislike towards properly prepared elaborate meals and be head over heels about something seasoned with simple store-brought mayo and ketchup. It was downright mortifying and ridiculous at the same time – how come a real princess to be far more humble than some people ? Shirou knew the answer for that, something that he’d known for a very long time: Sonia was a good person.

❝ If you ever wanted to know why I haven’t joined the Mage’s Association, that’s why. ❞ he mentioned upon hearing about her misadventures during dinner ❝ You have my deepest sympathies and, knowing you, you showed them that Sonia Nevermind isn’t someone to be underestimated or taken lightly. I’m sure it was fruitful for your project. ❞ Shirou kept smiling, imagining a room full of snobbish nobles and important individuals underestimating her for her young age and beauty and being severely outsmarted. The grace in which she usually carried herself even when treating those working under her were admirable but he knew Sonia wasn’t someone to be taken lightly – and could be rather stubborn in a way that makes one compelled into giving in. At least in his experience.

After watching quietly the exchange between the princess and the footman, he decided to comment: ❝ Maybe they should be trained about what to expect when a certain friend of yours shows up out of nowhere. To his credit he kept his cool pretty evenly. ❞ it was a jab at his own expense, of course. ❝ Should we start making plans for the next time I happen to show up at your doorstep without warning? ❞ his smirk as short-lived upon the mentioning Tohsaka.

❝ … Let’s say that her lungs are in perfect working condition; I didn’t even had to put it on speaker. ❞ yes, she was beyond herself, yelling at him, calling him an idiot and crying. Every time he caused that kind of grief made Shirou profoundly upset, the last thing he wanted was to have Rin or anyone sad because of him – he was doing all of that for a world in which no-one would have to cry anymore. ❝ In any case she’ll handle things on her end, call in a few favors to throw the people who were after me off my scent and they’ll never come to your doorstep. ❞

As soon as he tried to get up, Sonia was at his side, offering the use of her hand, or arm, or whatever he needed to pull himself upright. With the stitches still a bit fresh, she figured it would be a bit of a struggle to get himself into a seated position. But once he was, she turned on the lamp next to his bedside before sitting down in the cushioned chair nearby.

“You can hardly be surprised if that’s the case,” She chided him, though her smile was enough to indicate that she had no interest in actually reprimanding him. “You work very hard, physically and emotionally alike, to help those you can with the talents you possess. Eventually, it catches up to you: often when you least expect it and when you need it most, even if you cannot tell at the time.”

If one rumble from her stomach was embarrassing enough, a second was all but mortifying. Considering she had every luxury available to her, Sonia really had no reason to justify not eating her fill. Barring, of course, the only reason: luxury itself. She blushed fully for a moment before shaking her head, laughing at her own predicament. It was one of the only ways to deal with it. “Well, regardless, it smells heavenly,” She told him. “And fancy can be overrated quite often: I’m just thankful tonight was simply ridiculously small portions of elegant food and not a night of pure molecular gastronomy. Those can be fun, but you’re almost guaranteed to feel peckish afterwards.”

She paused, reaching to press a small button mounted on the wall near his bedside table. A buzzer of sorts, though it wouldn’t sound like anything to the two people currently in the room. “And it wasn’t the easiest: it never is, when dining is instead a debate and both parties have very different projects in mind. There are some deals where the price is too high, even for land that would be put to good use.”

Something she’d get an earful from her mother about later. The sons were, for the most part, perfectly agreeable in temperament and possessed impeccable manners, and their father was offering far more than what the land was worth in exchange for her romantic favor for any one of them. That had been the problem, with the roasted fowl and with the men: they’d been perfectly agreeable, nothing more. There had been nothing in the way of flavor or spice, nothing like the lamb Shirou had been treated to. It wasn’t long until a footman had entered, bowed, and asked what was needed.

“I’d like whatever lamb and lentils Mr. Emiya hasn’t eaten, in a bowl, sent up on a tray with a bit of yoghurt on the side mixed with honey and crushed nuts, please. Oh, and a suitable bottle of wine. Chef’s opinion is fine, no need to ring the Castle sommelier.”

“A..are you quite sure, Your Royal Highness?” The footman asked. He was young, younger than she was and relatively new to the post. He’d certainly been trained never to ask questions about any requests made by the family, but in this case, Sonia guessed it was purely shock that drove him. “And on a tray? Are you sure you wouldn’t like a setting in the dining room?”

“A tray will suit me fine, thank you,” She assured him, giving a pointed, don’t-ask-questions smile that she usually reserved for troublesome members of the aristocracy. “Ask the butler to find a folding table and ask another footman to accompany you in with it, along with Mr. Emiya’s own yoghurt. That will be all.”

 A quick nod and the young man left, presumably to hurry down to the kitchen with the request. Sonia sighed: soon enough, the entire household would be made aware of how poor her evening had been at the Marquis’ residence. Her own staff wasn’t immune to one of the most pressing gossip in the country: would the Princess of Novoselic finally meet her match?

“So, how is Tohsaka-san doing?” She asked. For the meantime at least, she could ignore the fallout from her evening. “I’m sure she had plenty to say regarding you going so long without contacting her.”

[yourstarvic]

Warning: mention of suggested contents

Taking a deep breath in through your nose, you smoothed down the beautiful white dress you wear. You looked at the mirror in front of you, seeing how the dress looked on you. It was a beautiful off-the-shoulder dress that was a princess ball gown. You looked beautiful in the dress, the way it hugged your body properly making you look beautiful. 

“That dress looks beautiful on you,” One of the workers told you, fixing the train of your dress.

“You think so?” You asked, looking at her reflection.

“I know so,” She smiled at you. “But why are you alone? Shouldn’t you have your maid of honor with you to help?”

“She’s probably running late,” You gave her a tight lip smile, feeling your chest tighten, having a feeling why she is taking so long but you hope you were wrong. 

The salesperson nodded their head in understanding, “Well… In the meantime, I can help you. So what do you think of the dress?”

“I like it,” You said with a smile, “but it doesn’t feel like it’s… the one…”

“Could be the lace…” She hummed, before snapping her fingers and ordering the other salespeople. “I think I have a dress in mind! You, get some heels! Bring one of each and the others get some veils and jewelry and everything you can think of! We need to make sure she finds the one!”

You gave her a smile as she walked off the mini runway and started to look for a dress she had in mind. Everyone followed behind listening to her instructions and going around the store to look for certain items. You were left alone, wearing the beautiful dress with heels and veil that matched with it. 

Picking the skirt up, you walked off the mini walkway and to the small loveseat that was in front of it. Grabbing your phone with shaking hands, you took a deep breath as you opened it and went to the phone app. Your finger hovered over Rieko's number as you gulped, having a gut feeling you weren’t going to like what you hear. With a deep breath, you clicked on her number and put the phone over your ear, waiting to hear her voice.

“H-Hello?” You heard her said breathlessly, trying to catch her breath.

With a shapely breath, you heard a few grunts in the background and her trying to hold something back, “Hey where are you? A-Are you okay?”

“S-Sorry!” She breathed out, letting a small giggles, “M-Meeting went too-Yes!-Long! I-I’m fine! J-Just Haru is-Oh!-Keeping me busy with-Ah!-Paperwork and r-running around!”

“You don’t sound like you’re running,” You clenched your fist over your chest, hearing what she was doing.

“I-I just b-bumped into-Yes!-Something a-and answering someone,” She laughed through the phone, hearing her mewl at something.

“Oh…” You took a deep breathes, trying to calm your aching heart. “I’ll just pick a dress by myself then…”

“Yeah! Yes!” You heard her mewl, “Do that! But don’t get-Ah!-Strapless or-Oh yes!-Off-the-shoulder! They look b-better on me!”

You gave her a quick farewell, you ended the call. You tightly closed your eyes, trying to calm your beating heart and stop the growing ache. Opening your eyes, you then decide to call Haru, trying to ignore the voice in the back of your head. 

“H-Hello?” You heard Haru's voice grunt through the speakers.

“Hey,” You said softly, blinking away the tears as you heard him grunt and Rieko voice in the background. “I-I thought you didn’t have meetings around this time?”

“Y-Yeah…” Haru groaned, “S-Sorry sweetie. It was last minute.”

“Are you okay?” You didn’t know why you asked that. You knew the answer. You knew he was going to make an excuse for why he was so breathless and groaning. You knew whatever he was going to say was only going to hurt you more.

“J-Just chasing after Rieko,” He breathed out, “S-Slow down Rieko!”

“But Haru,” You heard her whine in the background, “w-we need to finished! Would you rather we take longer to finish?”

“I’m probably going to be late tonight,” You heard Haru groaned out, “love you, bye.”

“Bye,” You whispered with a gulp, ending the call with him. You tighten the phone in your grip, trying to take steady breaths and blinking your eyes rapidly to stop the tears from coming. Dropping your phone back on the loveseat, next to your bag, you turned around and looked at the mirror. “Is that how I look?” You asked yourself, slowly walking back up on the platform and to the mirror.

You scanned your face in the mirror, your fingers slightly hovered your face. You moved your head slightly, moving it around to have a good look on your face. The dark bags under your eyes and how dull you looked. 

What happened to me?…

“When did I look so…Sad?” You whispered to yourself. But you knew the answer. You always knew, but you always ignored it. Not wanting to accept they were doing those things behind your back ever since Rieko gotten the job. He was your fiancé and she was your best friend…They wouldn’t do those things to do. They shouldn’t be having an affair but they are. And now here you were, wearing a beautiful wedding dress that was perfect for you. But instead of feeling happy and beautiful, you felt sad and disgusting. 

Looking back at the reflection of the loveseat, you noticed a piece of paper coming out of your bag. Giving yourself a final sad look at yourself in the reflection wiping away the tears that fell. You took a deep breath and walked out of the platform and back to the loveseat. Reaching for the small piece of paper, you noticed it was from when he gave it to. 

“Ya don’t deserve to be cheated on.” You remember his words to you. Playing on repeat in your head as you looked down at it. Breathing out of your nostrils, you tapped on your phone screen to check the time.

It’s almost that time… And I know where the place is…it’s a block or two away…

You quickly shake your head, getting rid of those thoughts. You remember how Haru said he didn’t want you to talk to him. Suddenly, you felt angry at him. How dare he? He has been with your best friend for so many months and he tells you who I can’t talk to? Because of his jealousy?

With determination, you picked up the skirt of your dress and ran out of the wedding boutique, leaving your purse and belongings in the store. Ignoring the salesperson yelling after you, you ran through the sidewalk, ignoring the weird stares. As you ran through the people on the sidewalk, you yelled out apologies to those who you bumped into.

Seeing the building of the address was written on the napkin, you quickly entered it. Running through the halls, you followed the sound of bouncing balls hitting the floor. Seeing wide gym doors, you ran closer to it and slamming it open. 

Keeping the doors open with your hands, you scanned the area as you tried to catch your breath. You ignored everyone’s stare at you, only trying to find a certain pair of eyes. Seeing who you were looking for, you pointed your finger at him, “You!”

“Me?” He asked, smirking at you when he noticed what you were wearing. Marching over to him in the middle of the court with your head held high you ignored everyone’s whispers.

“D-Did she ran away from her wedding… For Atsumu?”

“Atsumu just ruined a wedding…”

“He stole a bride."

“He really is terrible.”

Finally, in front of him, you let out a huff as your stared straight at him, “I couldn’t get your words out of my head.”

The corner of his lips tugged upward, creating a bigger smirk on his face as you ranted to him. “I just… I wasn’t planning to come. But when I saw the napkin I couldn’t stop thinking what you said and you’re right,” You huffed, started to pace in front of him, and moving your arms around to help express your words. “I know I don’t deserve this. I’ve always helped them, support them, did everything to make them happy and this is what I get in return. They took my feelings and disregard out them as if it was nothing and now I’m just this sad, empty shell of what I use to. And that night at the bar… Talking to you was the first time I had ever smile! A real, happy, genuine smile in a long time and I miss that. God! I miss being happy. I miss smiling at things, I miss waking up knowing that I’m loved. I miss everything… So…”

“So?” Atsumu raised his eyebrow. 

You turned to look, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath. “I say yes,” You swallowed, looking at him determinedly. “I want to be happy again. I want to smile again. I want to make them feel the same way I felt all these months. So yeah…I’ll take your help.”

“Perfect,” He nodded his head, an amusing smile on his face as he looked at your eyes.

“Good,” You nodded, slowly feeling the adrenaline fading.

Outstretching his hand, you eyed it carefully as he said, “Since we are going to spend a bunch of time together, we need to get to know each other. But ya already know who I am.”

“Umm,” You gave him a tight awkward smile, “sorry…But I don’t know who you are…”

“Eh?”

Perking at the sound of sniffled laughter, you leaned a bit to the side to look behind the blonde, seeing three people laughing. Blinking your eyes curiously, you saw an orange hair male and white with black streaks both leaning against each other as they tried not to laugh out loud. Next to them was a black hair curly male, who didn’t bother hiding his laughter.

They were at the bar…they must be good friends...

“Shut it!” The blonde yelled at them, an embarrassing red hue appeared on his cheeks. Clearing his throat, he turned back to you and introduced himself. “Name Miya Atsumu.”

“Nice to meet you, Miya-”

“Atsumu,” He interrupted you with a smile, “ya can call me Atsumu.”

“In that case,” You smiled in return, reaching to shake his hand, “you can call me (Y/n).”

“Nice to meet ya (Y/n),” Atsumu shook your hand and let you go. “Ya can wait outside for me and we can talk after I'm done.”

Nodding your head, you turned around to start walking out of the court but you froze when you saw everyone looking at you. The realization then hit you. Everyone heard what you said. Your eyes scanned the court, seeing everyone looking at you in amusement as embarrassment flooded your body. With a gulp and an awkward wave, you said softly, “H-Hi…”

Have they all been there the whole time...

Many of them greeted you and/or waved back to you. Giving them a tight lip smile you walked to the doors you came from with your head down, trying to hide the embarrassing blush on your face. Atsumu watched you with amusement, find it funny how you came in so boldly and now leaving shyly.

Noticing Sakusa standing next to him from the corner of his eye, he heard him ask, “What did you do?”

“Ya know the girl from the bar a few-”

“I know that’s her,” Sakusa interrupts him, looking at him with confusion. “I’m just wondering why are you doing that.”

Atsumu turned and gave Sakusa a warm smile, putting his hand on his chest as said, “Because I am a nice guy.”

Sakusa gave him a disgusting look to which Atsumu ignored and smiled through. Turning back to look at you, he saw you walk through the doors. But a few seconds later you came back, fidgeting with your fingers as you asked shyly, “Um… Can I borrow someone’s phone? I kinda stole this dress and left all of my belonging at the boutique…”

Atsumu chuckled at you, seeing one of his teammates offered their phone to you. You accepted the phone and quickly made a call to someone. “She’s different,” Atsumu noted to Sakusa, not looking away from you. “The way she was when she came in and at the bar is different from how she is now.”

Sakusa didn’t say anything to him, both looking at you as you handed back the phone and looked back to everyone with a shy awkward smile and wave before dashing through the door. “‘M kinda excited for this,” Atsumu smiled at Sakusa.

“You’re terrible you know that?” Sakusa sighed, walking off, and headed to the locker room.

“How ‘m terrible!” Atsumu huffed following Sakusa, “‘m helping her!”

MASTERPOST-PREV-NEXT

Notes: sorry for posting this a bit late! But Rieko and Haru really are terrible huh 🥴

TAGLIST: @girlyluke​ @reina-de-tay​​ @bloody-bella​​ @gothkaoru​​ @freaksnque​​ @gothkaoru​​ @kayleighbeccaa​​ @itoshibaby​​ @missalienqueen​​ @90s-belladonna​​ @ntimacy​​ @persyhange​​ @loser-keiji​​ @lilith412426​​ @fandomatakeover18​​ @bbdaydreams​​ @sillyanimedream​​ @noya-kinnie​ @itzlally​ @fayeimara​@izmeaweeboo​ @zukoslosthishonor​ @camcam1617​ @karlitaburrito​@sakusaakiyoomii​ @strcwberrieswine​

[devilmayfamily]

Day 5 - Company Christmas Party

Pronouns: she/her/fem

Masterlist

Vergil groaned remembering what day it was. His company had decided to throw a Christmas Party, something Vergil wasn't very found of. He had to pretend though for them and with him being CEO, he felt obligated to go. He only remembered what today was because of all his employees talking about it at work. Dante, his own brother, being the worst reminder, shouting about the party at almost every chance he was given.

"You should bring that girl you've been seeing Vergil", Dante says.

"Oh yeah! We've barely heard of her and you've never shown her off. Bring her here!", Lady chimes in.

Vergil groaned in annoyance at the idea of bringing you here. It's not that the man was ashamed of you, far from it actually. He was very happy to have someone as nice, caring and patience as you in his life. You've helped raise his son for the last year the two of you have been together, no questions asked. You and Nero had bonded so much that anyone who didn't know would think you were the boys mother.

Vergil just didn't like mixing his professional life with his personal life. He was CEO after all and it took him every bit of his strength and intelligence to get up to this position. He didn't need people asking stupid questions about his home life when he was at work. The man was focused and has made it very clear to keep work the topic of conversation when in the building. Otherwise, you fucked off.

He has answered the occasional home life questions like "how is Nero?", and "When do you plan on getting married?", but ask too many and he shuts the conversation down completely.

You on the other had were free to ask all the questions you wanted when you met Vergil. Nero had gotten away from his father one day in the grocery store and found you while look for his father. When you returned the small little boy to Vergil, he'd let you question him about everything without realizing you were basically a complete stranger. The two of you went on a few dates before Vergil finally asked if you'd be his girlfriend. Now here you sit, a year in and Nero calls you mom.

"I'm not bringing her here", Vergil says.

"Oh com on Vergil! I bet she'd fit right in", Dante replies.

Dante wasn't wrong and Vergil hated it. Nero was basically a mini Dante, something Vergil thinks God did as a punishment sometimes, and you and Nero matched energy almost instantly. You would mix right in perfectly and that scared Vergil.

"No. She's not coming here", Vergil says.

---

"I can't believe you're finally bringing me here", you say, looping your arm with Vergil's as you get out of his car.

Reluctant as he was, you were the final one to convince him to bring you. You were dressed in a nice, slim blue dress with a pair of converse, because lord knows you'd never wear heels. Vergil was dressed in a dark blue suit, a matching tie and pocket square accompanying it.

"Dad doesn't like coming here when he doesn't want to", Nero replies.

The small boy whined about coming along until Vergil said yes. He was going to find a babysitter for the night but since meeting you, he knew Nero wouldn't be good for anyone else.

Everyone clapped upon seeing the three of you walked into the DMC office building. Vergil waved to everyone as you and Nero found the sweets. After awhile of sitting and enjoying yourselves, Vergil suddenly stood up from the table.

"We have to go say hi to everyone. They've been begging me to introduce you", he says to you.

You nod, finishing the cookie and juice you had. You turn to Nero, who was coloring away at a Christmas coloring book you brought with you to keep him busy.

"We have to go say hi to everyone. Can you stay here and color for a bit?", you ask.

Nero nods, a big smile on his face. The boy was surrounded by sweets and crayons and you were sure you'd come back to him sleeping from a sugar crash.

You and Vergil leave the table, moving from place to place in the lobby saying hi to people.

"And there she is, the princess of the night!", Dante says as the two of you approach him, Trish and Lady.

You've met Dante, the man coming over every now and then to spend time with Nero. You've heard of Lady and Trish but hadn't seen them before until now.

"Vergil how could you keep someone so pretty from us?", Lady asks.

"Is he paying you with his big CEO bucks?", Trish jokingly asks.

You get along very well with everyone, Vergil just ideally standing by. You're pulled out of the conversation however, when you feel a small tug on your arm. You look down to see Nero clinging to your leg.

"I'm tired mommy", he mumbles.

Everyone aww's at the small boy. You kneel down and pick him up, Nero instantly falling asleep in your arms.

"I suppose that's our cue to go", you say.

You say goodbye to everyone, leaving the party with some cookies and cupcakes.

"I'm never bringing you back there", Vergil says on the drive home.

"Why not?", you ask. "I quite liked it there."

"That's exactly why", Vergil replies.

You quietly laugh trying not to wake Nero as a smile creeps onto Vergil's face, the man trying to contain his own laughter. He shakes his head, focusing on driving once more as you drift off to sleep yourself.

[spaceskam]

woke me up from the longest dream

Summary: Alex and Michael follow up on a lead and find something powerful.

Tags: canon compliant (for the most part), visions, road trips, my deep sky still sucks agenda

ao3

"Why is it so fucking cold?" 

"Welcome to Montana," Alex said dryly.

Michael made a face and shoved his hands in his pockets. He was doing his best to be mature about Alex inviting him on this trip. It was another loose lead he found and he was irritated that he didn't find it until after he came back home. Michael had offered to help after a grueling time in self-induced misery and Alex had agreed and he had planned to use this time to show Alex how much he'd grown.

However, there was something about being alone with Alex that made him feel a little like he hadn’t. 

"Are you not cold?"

"Didn't we deduce that your species is from a really cold planet due to your body temperature and the clothing Tripp described they were wearing?" Alex asked back.

Michael was used to a vaguely snarky Alex, it was in his genetic makeup. This was a different level though. Alex was in one of the worst moods Michael had ever seen him in that didn't result in a fight, instead it was all icy silence and irritated answers. Michael wasn't sure if it was because of his breakup with Forrest or if it was something else entirely. Maybe it was the fact that Michael was here at all.

He decided to keep quiet.

"You got me," Michael said, taking slightly bigger strides to keep up with Alex.

They were in a small town that served as a hub for a few even smaller towns that surrounded it. It had one small stretch of road with all the local businesses in it, a shabby hotel, a diner, and a farmer's market being the three biggest options. There were a couple others buildings, but Michael couldn't say what they were by just looking at them from the outside.

Alex seemed to know where he was headed though and he waltzed up to a building that was only identifiable by a sign that was meant to say CORRIE'S but was missing a few letters and said CORE instead. He pushed the door open and Michael followed. The inside had the heater blasting in a way that immediately smothered him, but he managed to keep his face even. It looked like a convenience store with only three rows of shelves in the middle. A sign at the back door read GAS PUMP IN BACK. Michael thought that was bad advertising.

"Hello," an older woman at the counter greeted. She seemed to be the only one here.

"Hey," Alex said, approaching her and turning on an easy smile. Logically Michael just knew he was being charming to get what he came here for. Illogically, it felt like Alex could be nice to everyone but him.

How many times could he tell himself to grow up? 

"What can I help you two with?" she asked. 

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this place is owned by someone who used to live in Fort Belknap?" Alex said, not even beating around the bush to charm her more. That was the only thing to convince him it wasn't just him. 

The woman stared at him, face unchanging. 

"Who's asking?" 

"Holt," Alex said, smiling and tilting his head a little bit, "Carla Holt, to be more specific."

She breathed in and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them a few moments later. 

"Their timing has always been impeccable," she said, gesturing towards a door behind her, "Come."

"Who's Carla Holt?" Michael whispered to him as they followed. Alex grabbed his arm and squeezed, nearly causing Michael to fully trip over air. 

"Just follow my lead. Stay quiet," Alex explained quietly, "I'll tell you later."

And Michael did as he said. 

"You must be the littlest Manes boy," the woman said as she led them into a little office. It was cluttered and didn't really seem like the top secret place Michael was imagining. 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"Corrie," she corrected, "I never did like the sound of ma'am."

"Alright," Alex said, laughing lightly even though didn't reach his eyes, "My mother told me the same thing." 

"I bet so," Corrie said, digging through messy drawers of a desk. She sat down heavily into the beat up chair and started digging through a file cabinet. "I kept telling myself it'll eventually come and bite me in the ass, carrying secrets for someone I only hear from once every few years, but you never know what you're getting yourself into until after you're stuck."

"Yeah, I know how that feels," Alex sighed. Michael's eyes drifted to him. He avoided eye contact completely.

"I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting you. Your brother, maybe. Part of me expected your father to bust down my door more than anyone," she went on. Corrie pulled out a small box and opened it, looking in and making a face before closing it and tossing it over her shoulder. 

"Guess I'm the sucker who agreed to clean up duty."

Corrie laughed.

Truly, Michael expected more danger and more difficulty. He expected a fight or at least tension. Instead, Alex and Corrie made small talk about their shitty affiliations while Corrie dug through decades worth of clutter. Eventually, she pulled out a box and opened it and took a deep breath. She closed it again before giving it to Alex and Alex didn't reopen it so Michael had no idea what was in it. All he knew was that it went into Alex's bag.

"Thank you "

"Keep it safe," Corrie said, "Keep yourself safe." Then for the first time her eyes drifted to Michael. "You too. There aren't many of you left."

It was hot in the building, but somehow Michael felt like he'd jumped in ice water.

"Thank you."

"Mhm. Now get the hell out of my store before somebody follows you."

"Of course. Thank you again," Alex said politely and then he did as she said, turning on his heel and walking away. Michael wanted to stay and ask more–if she knew what he was, maybe she knew things he didn't and they could get rid of Mr. Jones–but Michael simply followed Alex's lead.

"Alex," Michael said, nearly having to jog to keep up. Alex opened the door of the store and a blast of cold hit Michael in the face, colder than before due to the extreme warmth inside. It took him a moment to reboot his mind enough to finish what he was saying. "Alex, what's in the box?"

Alex managed to close his eyes and shake his head in disapproval without slowing his pace. 

"Can you wait until we get to the hotel?" Alex asked, cold again. Michael nodded despite the fact Alex couldn't see him, deciding that a verbal answer probably would be annoying in itself. 

The problem with silence was that it was a sure way to get Michael to spiral. He had discovered very recently that being alone when he wanted to be alone the most was the worst idea. Now, he didn't want to be alone as much as he wanted answers. Walking in silence down a street while wondering what was in Alex's bag, who Carla Holt was, why Alex was angry, etc, etc, etc, was only making his mind race.

By the time they stepped into the lobby of the hotel, Michael was sure that Alex had just borrowed a bomb from an old lady and he was going to explode himself and whoever Carla Holt was was going to hunt Michael down in revenge. He of course didn't say that. Instead, he tapped his foot as Alex requested a room with two queens and didn't realized that the worker snorted because he was assuming they were two queens until after they were already heading to the room. 

"Should I go spit in his drink?" Michael asked when he realized. 

"No," Alex said, "You'd probably make it taste too sweet."

Michael again found himself stumbling over nothing and he looked at Alex, wondering what the hell was he talking about. But it was the nicest thing he'd said to him the whole trip and Michael decided to take it very personally. 

"You sayin' I'm sweet?" Michael asked, grinning. A smile pulled at Alex's mouth that he very quickly schooled, slowing as he came to their room. 

"I'm saying your saliva, and probably your other bodily fluids, have a higher concentration of a glucose-like chemical," Alex said, "As proved by Kyle and Liz when we got drunk."

"You guys drunkenly tested our saliva's glucose levels?" Michael asked, laughing a little. Alex finally speaking to him made his brain stop wandering as much. Not completely–he was still wondering about that box–but enough.

"We were talking," Alex said, unlocking the door with the keycard, "And noticed we all thought you three tasted sweeter than other people we'd kissed and, well, you know. So we did some tests."

"That's... Interesting," Michael said, letting the door close behind them.

Alex walked over to the bed closest to the door and carefully sat his bag down. Michael watched him, staying near the door. He was still unsure about where they stood. He knew Alex cared about him and he knew Alex didn't hate him, but he was also still holding him at arm's length. And then there was that box. He didn't want to push.

But Michael wasn't known for his patience. 

"Alex," Michael said, "What's in that box?"

Alex swallowed and looked up at him for a moment before patting the bed beside him. An invitation. One that made Michael's stomach drop and twist in 11 knots. But he walked closer, sitting beside Alex. Alex stared at him, his features slowly loosening up to betray his feelings. His eyebrows pulled together in that kind of worry that meant he felt like he was drowning, scrambling to pull himself to the surface and never able to get a good grip. Which would explain the coldness, he supposed.

"You know you can trust me, right? I'm... I'm working on not being so self-destructive, and, like, knowing I'm helping you out kinda helps when I feel shitty," Michael said. Alex huffed a small laugh and shook his head, dropping his chin to his chest for a moment. When he looked Michael in the eye again, he was back to being serious. 

"I did something stupid," Alex said, softly like it was a secret, "I agreed to something without knowing what I was getting myself into. And I'm kind of stuck right now."

"Stuck? What do you mean stuck?" Michael said, following his lead and whispering.

"I'm figuring it out, alright? Don't worry. I'll tell you later," Alex said, reaching out to squeeze his arm before dropping it back to the bed, "And I checked before we even left that I wasn't bugged and I've kept my eye out to know that we aren't being followed. And my computer definitely isn't. We're good. They're tracking me, but only to the extent I'm letting them. It's okay." 

"That doesn't sound okay," Michael said.

"Trust me like I trust you, alright?" He said. Michael reluctantly nodded. "I need you to hold something for me."

Michael blinked. "The box."

"Yeah."

"Who's Carla Holt?" Michael asked. Alex smiled softly

"It's not a who, it's a what. It's a code from my mom's side of things. She knows more about the alien shit than she let on," Alex sighed, "I didn't stand a fucking chance not being involved with this shit. My dad, my mom, you. So, you know, if you ever feel bad about that, it's my fucking destiny." 

Michael swallowed and nodded, feeling more eager by the second to know what was in that box. Needed to keep hearing Alex say how fated they were to know each other. Needed Alex to touch his arm again and smile.

"Okay," Michael said, trying to stay in his own space, "So we're fated. Cosmic connection. Called it."

Alex broke into a wide smile, genuine and welcoming as he shoved Michael's shoulder gently. "Shut up."

"Show me," Michael said instead. Alex's smile faded just a little.

"Do me a favor and double check our surroundings," Alex said. Michael nodded and tilted his head, sending a chair to lodge itself under the doorknob and pressed the curtains tightly to the wall. His eyes slid closed as he did a mental sweep of the building, not noticing anything out of order. When he opened his eyes again, Alex seemed to be closer. "Thanks." 

"Show me." 

Alex sighed and nodded, hesitantly reaching into his bag and pulling out the box. It was clear now that it was made of really nice wood, intricate carvings covering it. Alex handled it with an extreme care that Corrie didn't have with it. His eyes flickered between the box and Michael a few dozen times before he hesitantly opened it and Michael leaned closer to see.

"It's just a ring," Michael said, almost disappointed. It looked like a normal, silver band that was old and unpolished after years of being tucked away. 

"Not just a ring," Alex said, he kept his fingers very precise as he picked it up. Michael didn't miss the way it seemed to ripple at his touch.

"Something alien," Michael acknowledged.

"Something alien," Alex confirmed, "Most of the glass and even the rocks that you've had so far all seem to be crafted and at least heavily altered by your people to be as useful as they are. This... This was passed down as a pure substance that was mined and cut into a wedding band to mimic human customs." Alex looked at him. "It pre-dates your mother landing here, Michael."

Michael let out a shaky breath, eager and hungry for knowledge for the first time in a long time. He'd poured over Tripp's journal over and over, poured over Caulfield and Project Shepard records, all of it painful and sickening with an unhappy ending. And now there was something new– old –that might actually give him something more. Proof that aliens were here before his mother, proof that there was a reason they came to Earth of all places. More secrets he craved to uncover. He missed the feeling. 

"It's powerful and, as far as I can tell, the last of it left. The rest was probably destroyed with your planet. But it's old and... and sentimental. One of the older women on the reservation told me the sentimentality powered it more. Because it's not just a ring that symbolizes love or a bond between two people, but it's a new start. Blending the past they chose to leave behind together with something new and different. Safer and secure. Together," Alex said. Michael swallowed, eyes unable to break away from Alex's. Alex cleared his throat and looked back down at it. "That's what she said anyway. There was probably two at one point, but I'm sure the other is lost to time."

"Yeah, okay. Okay," Michael said, agreeing without hesitation, "I'll take care of it and keep it safe."

He went to grab it, but Alex pulled it out of his reach.

"Michael," he said, "When I say it's powerful, I mean the moment you put it on, something's going to… happen."

Michael hadn't really intended to put it on, but it seemed Alex knew him well enough to know that eventually he would. 

"What kind of something?" 

"I don't know, Michael. I just know legend says it has unspeakable levels of power. So, please, be careful with it. I'd prefer you do it with someone around in case it overloads you or something," Alex said. Michael didn't point out what Isobel had before–he was the only one who didn't have a limit.

"Why not just put it on right now?" Michael said, "We're in the clear and you're here. Why not?" 

Alex breathed in and out, staring at him with that same worried, downing look. Michael selfishly enjoyed it for a few moments–enjoying that he cared that much. So he smirked and held out his left hand, feeling confident.

"Go ahead, Alex. Put a ring on it," he said. A smile pulled at Alex's lips that he fought, but he relaxed his shoulders and grabbed Michael's hand with his empty one.

Alex's hand was warm. Michael was sort of obsessed with the feeling of it. Why hadn't they been holding hands this entire time? 

"I'm right here, okay? So if you need me to take it off or if you feel like you're going to lose control, let me know. Try not to throw me," Alex said. Michael rolled his eyes.

"I don't give a shit how much power I have injected into me, I'm not going to hurt you," Michael said. Alex raised an eyebrow. "Physically. Come on now, cut me some slack."

"Maybe," Alex said, putting the ring closer. Michael could feel it now that it was millimeters away from his skin, the power of it overwhelming. And Michael was intrigued. "Ready?"

"Always."

Alex slid the ring onto his ring finger.

The wave of power hit him instantly and, before he could adjust, sent him into a mindscape. Or–he thought it was. The room was damp and dark, unwelcoming. Michael looked around for something, someone, but he was alone. It was crowded with things, though, inventions and technological structures. It looked like his own lair but significantly less familiar, less comforting. 

“Michael?”

Michael turned towards the voice and saw Alex at the top of a ladder, staring down at him with a face that said he was doing everything to stay calm. He had red stains on his clothes. Michael stared at him, unsure what to do. Alex was down the ladder and centimeters away from him so quickly that it could only be achieved by him seeing something that wasn’t happening just yet.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Michael said, instinctually, “Where are we? What is this place?”

Alex looked around the room, his face betraying his pain before he met Michael’s eyes again. Then his hand was on Michael’s cheek with a warm and grounding presence. Michael’s heart was about to burst out of his chest.

“My research,” he sighed, “Half of it’s destroyed anyway. Let’s go.” Michael didn’t really think that sounded right. This didn’t feel like Alex’s space. He’d been in enough of Alex’s spaces before to know what they felt like. This wasn’t it.

“Your research?” he said. Alex gave him a look and stroked his thumb over his cheekbone.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Stop that,” Michael said, his voice sounding more irritated than he meant. He could feel the anger in his body, but he didn’t know the source. “Stop not telling me things. You keep doing that. You need to tell me.”

“You’re right,” Alex agreed, swallowing, “But we need to get out of here. I swear I’ll tell you once we get in the car. But we need to get out of here.”

“You promise you’ll tell me in the car?” Michael said. Alex nodded.

“I promise.”

They were upstairs just as fast as Alex had been downstairs. Michael saw blood. He turned his head to find the source, but Alex’s hand was back on his neck to stop him.

“Don’t look. Let’s just go to the car.”

“What, you tryna baby me?” Michael asked, “You know I’ve seen some shit.”

“Yeah, I know,” Alex said, still leading him towards the door as his thumb dug slightly into the muscle on his neck, “Doesn’t mean I have to show you more.”

Michael sucked in a breath and he was thrown back into his body, the power from the ring still thrumming through him and teasing a possible second surge. It was old and unused and desperate to stretch out some of it's pent up energy.

Alex was there, staring at him and holding onto him. He was so close, so real, and so was that memory that was just in the opposite direction. Michael stared at him, taking him in.

"What happened?" Alex asked, hands squeezing his biceps. His hand started to slide up, but stopped at his shoulder. "Hey, you with me?" 

"Yeah," Michael said, "I'm okay."

"What happened?"

"I think, uh," Michael breathed, swallowing. His throat felt dry again. The heat of the hotel seemed to work with the heat inside him; he was on fire in the best way. "I got, like, That's So Raven'd."

Alex blinked a couple times, his thumb moving in slow circles against his collarbone not too far from where it’d been moments ago in his vision. Michael wanted to let his eyes roll back into his head and just sink into the bed with Alex beside him and let this undeniable strength course through him.

"You saw the future?" he said, "Like one of Maria's visions?" 

"I think so," Michael confirmed, "Only… mine wasn't of something bad. I mean, not really, anyway."

"What was it?" Alex asked. 

Michael licked his lips, studying Alex for a moment. The ring on his finger fit perfectly as if it was made for him. The power it gave settled nicely in him, pulsing and eager to be used just a little bit more, but in a childish, playful way. It wanted to stretch after too many years being cooped up.

"Hey, I'm going to try to see something else," Michael said. Alex's eyes went wide as saucers.

"What? Tell me what you saw the first time," Alex pressed, his hand shifting just enough to cup the side of his neck. Michael layered his hand over his, feeling bold and unperturbed. At some point, they were going to get there. He was sure of that more now than ever. 

And he wanted to see more.

" Michael ," Alex said, but Michael closed his eyes and breathed in, letting the power in the ring take him somewhere else.

And he was somewhere else. 

He was standing at the end of a driveway. He looked around and tried to grab some sort of identifier, but all he saw was a house behind him and then a school bus headed towards him. It stopped in front of him, a kid stepping off and running towards him with a backpack almost as big as she was. 

"Daddy!" the kid yelled and Michael tried his damnedest to act like he was meant to be here as the little body slammed against his legs for a welcoming hug. "Is Dad home yet? Can you tell him to get ice cream? I think we need ice cream."

"Oh, you think we need it?" Michael asked, walking with the kid towards the house. It felt natural, oddly enough. 

"Yes," the kid said simply, running towards the door. She threw it open and Michael laughed and jogged the rest of the way. He could hear her already telling a story about school and he was trying to stay close enough to follow.

He walked into a foyer, pictures lining the wall. Family portraits.

Him and Alex. The three of them.

When Michael came back to his senses, Alex was right there again and staring at him without faltering. The ring was still alive, but it was at a sated hum now that it had been used a few times. He wondered how it would feel doing something he understood. He couldn’t wait to try.

“Hey,” Alex said, soft and comforting as he welcomed his weight. The vision he had was definitely not what he was looking for, he wanted to know more about Alex’s research and why it all felt so wrong and where the hell they were, but the second one… 

“Hi,” Michael said, breathing and his eyes drifting down to his lips. Michael had experienced a lot of urges to kiss Alex before. Somehow this felt more dire.

“Please don’t do that again,” Alex said, “Maybe we should take it off.”

Michael shook his head carefully, eyes scanning him, “No, it feels fine now. It just needed to be used after being in a little box for decades. It’s good. Feels good.”

“Okay,” Alex said, still clearly hesitant. His fingers played with the hair at the back of Michael’s neck. There were two beds, but Michael was trying to figure out how to convince him to share one. They could fit. They’d shared smaller. “What’d you see?”

Michael breathed deep, wanting to get closer. He kept his hands to himself no matter how much he wanted to touch. He was being good. To get to where those visions said he was headed, he had to be good. Good for himself and Alex.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Michael said softly, “What are you researching? Who are you working with?”

Alex blinked once, twice before dropping his hand off of Michael. Which definitely hurt, but the fact that Alex didn’t move away definitely helped. 

“What did you see?” Alex asked again, more pressing, “I know you saw that I’m researching something.”

Michael shrugged. He technically did, but he didn’t see anything identifiable. He didn’t know what it was. He would like to. Then again, he’d always wanted to know everything about Alex Manes.

“I didn’t see what,” Michael said, “I just saw that someone’s going to fuck with it. I think. I don’t know, we were in this basement looking thing and it felt really off and, and not like you, but you said your stuff was in it. And you had blood on you and when we went upstairs, there was more blood. But you said not to look. I don’t know what you did or what happened, but, like, if you told me, maybe we can prevent it getting that extreme.”

Alex stared at him for a long moment. 

“You saw that both times?” Alex asked softly. Michael hesitated before shaking his head. “What else did you see, then?”

“Um,” Michael breathed, trying to think of the right words to say, “Uh. I don’t think, um…”

“ Michael.”

“Family portraits,” he said carefully, figuring that was easier to start with than a whole person who called them dad, “Like, ours. Um. I know we don’t belong in suburbia, but I guess we fucking get it anyway.”

He laughed. It wasn’t funny, but it was easier to say it like it was a joke. Alex looked at him, face confused.

“Suburbia? Like. White picket fence kinda thing?” Alex asked. Michael took a slow breath.

“I, uh, I didn’t see a fence, I was too focused on the‒” he stopped, licking his lips. Michael rubbed his thumb over the ring. It seemed to purr at the attention. Michael couldn’t wait to get back home and see what he could really do.

“On the what?” Alex prodded, reaching out to rest his hand on his leg and reigniting the contact. It felt so good. Michael really liked when he was touchy, it was his favorite thing about Alex.

“Um,” Michael breathed, feeling drunk off the attention and the ring all at once. He thought about lying, maybe that they were babysitting because that was close enough, but he was so tired of lies and half-truths and I’ll-tell-you-laters. “On the kid.”

Alex froze for a moment, “The kid?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, shrugging softly, “I, uh, I guess she was ours. She was calling us dad. Do we have any water? My throat is super dry.”

“I… I don’t think you’re seeing the future then, I’m never having kids. Do you realize how awful of a parent I would be? Awful. Neglectful. That’s not… And after I clearly fucking hurt people?”

“Maybe not,” Michael said, not about to argue right now. He was too busy feeling good. Alex kept his hand on his knee. “But whatever it was, it was good.”

Alex stared at him, quiet and clearly thinking things through. Michael let him. It was easier to give him space and time now. He’d gotten better at it before his visions, but they solidified to him that they were on a good path. It felt like they were making good choices and taking good steps. This was just a part of it.

Alex eventually took a deep breath, looked him in the eye.

“I’m gonna tell you what I’m doing, but you have to promise you’re going to stay out of it and trust me,” Alex said, “You promise?”

“I promise.”

“And you’re gonna promise to be honest with me?” Alex said, “And stay safe. Like, seriously. Don’t be reckless just because. I know you.”

I know you.

“Yeah. I’m doing better now,” Michael said, stretching his hand out, “I am. But I’m… I’m tired of not doing shit together. Doing stuff separately always gets us in shitty situations, Alex, I wanna be a team. Can I be on your team?”

Alex swallowed and moved his hand up, tucking Michael’s hair behind his ear.

“Yeah. Be on my team. Let’s be a team,” Alex said. He shifted and Michael waited patiently, watching him. “Okay, so. Deep Sky. It’s… it’s got some good people, I think, but it’s overall fucked. I don’t trust anyone in there, but it’s where I’m doing my research. Sort of. So I’ll tell you.”

It almost felt too good to be true to hear, but he didn’t need the ring to know that Alex was being honest. It showed him anyway. Truthfulness radiated off of him in vibrant blues and whites. He didn’t even need to get in his mindscape to be sure of it. It was strange to feel like that was unnecessary, like his body didn’t need confirmation because it already knew.  It didn’t feel like he was stepping off a ledge. He hoped Alex had the same confidence, wondered what would happen if he put the ring on him.

If Alex still felt like he was stepping off the ledge, he was going to be sure to catch every inch of him this time. No piece would hit the ground like all the times before.

He was going to make this work.

“Everything?” 

“Everything.”

[mosswillow]

Simple Silver - Dark!Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: You’ve been given a gift, one not many Omegas get. A bracelet that when worn by an Omega changes their scent ever so slightly. All you need to do is keep the bracelet on and he can’t find you.

Warnings: 18+ adult content, dark!, ABO (no mentions of knots, heat, or rutt.), general misogyny, noncon/dubcon, smut, vaginal fingering, oral (male receiving), violence, orgasm delay/denial, kidnapping (kinda), she spits in his face in this, possessive behavior.

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: This fic is a request from @leniram1890. Seriously, thank you so much. It’s everything I love to write and read and you just dropped it in my lap. Now that it’s done I want more…

by clicking keep reading you confirm that you are over the age of 18 and consent to reading mature content.

You’re infatuated with him. He stands tall, you guess at least six feet, and his smell; he smells like no Alpha you've ever encountered. There’s this look to him, unequivocally attractive but in a unique and confusing way that draws you in. His eyebrows lift slightly making his otherwise small and ordinary eyes the focal point of his face. He looks around the room with a focus and intensity that feels inhuman. You finger the small bracelet that holds your secret and walk behind him, your Omega instincts telling you to get close. You suddenly recognize where you are and what you’re doing. looking down to your hands, you stare horrified at the bracelet that was taken off without your noticing. you put it back on and sprint out of the building, not stopping until you’re behind the safety of your padlocked apartment door.

Your phone goes off and you answer, making up an excuse about food poisoning and promising to be in early the next day.

Your Alpha, it had to be him.

You’ve wondered what it would be like to meet your Alpha, if you would feel bad about hiding from them. You don’t feel bad, only upset with yourself for losing control. You almost gave up your whole life in one stupid moment.

The simple silver bracelet that sits on your wrist feels heavy and you look at it. It’s a chain that suppresses your true self and one that sets you free. It’s one you choose to wear because the alternative is a life looking over your shoulder; waiting for your Alpha to find and claim you. Your parents gave it to you the day you presented and it’s given you opportunities not many Omegas get. It changes your scent just enough to let you hide, giving you the ability to decide for yourself how you feel about your Alpha, to choose a life with him or to keep the life you’ve built for yourself.  

Your coworkers don’t waste time the next morning. One is already at your desk and two more walk up as you sit down.

“Ok, what did I miss?” you ask.

“Right when you left this scary looking Alpha started raging. Stark had to call in the avengers to get him to calm down.”

You act surprised, knitting your brows and leaning forward in fake interest.

“What happened?”

“Apparently He smelled his Omega but couldn’t find them.”

“Crazy.” you say, opening up your email and scrolling through.

Coworkers start dispercing and you let out a held breath. You get to work, having extra from the day before and lose yourself for several hours.

“That’s him.” whispers a voice and you look up at your coworker before following their eyes.

It’s him, your Alpha, and he’s walking straight toward you.

You try your best to stay focused on work and not give away the slight shaking of your hands as his scent hits your nose. He stops at your desk and you look up at his chest avoiding eye contact.

“What can I do for you mr…”

“Dr. Strange,” he pauses. “I’m sure you know what happened yesterday.”

“I don’t judge sir.”

He looks at you and leans on your desk.

“Ah, but you are judging. Spit it out then.”

You take your hands off of your keyboard and fold them over your chest.

“Omegas don’t have lives after they mate, I guess it doesn’t doesn’t feel fair to me.”

“What makes you think my Omega wouldn’t have a life?”

“You would let your Omega Work? Travel by themselves? Have their own bank account?”

He thrums his fingers on your desk.

“My Omega will have a good life, they need to know their place though. When I finally find them they won’t even be allowed to leave the house without permission.”

You bristle. “Well then, I’m glad you weren’t able to find them.”

He leans farther over your desk, his demeanor shifting into one of intimidation. You do everything you can not to cower back as his aggressive scent washes over you.

“You don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe your Omega is hiding from you, that’s what I would do if I was an Omega.” You finally make eye contact, staring into the stormy grey abyss of his irises and he leans forward even more.

“They better not be.”

“What would you do if you found out they were?”

His fist clenches and you can’t help but push your chair back a few inches. You see Tony walking toward you from the corner of your eye and stand up, pushing your pointer finger against his forehead.

“You sir, are one of the most obnoxious people I’ve ever met, and I work for Tony Stark,” you say.

His mouth opens in surprise and he stands up.

Tony makes it to you at just the right moment. “Hey now, stop harassing my assistant. We’re not having a repeat of yesterday, thank you.”

Strange narrows his eyes at you but doesn’t say anything as he follows Tony into his office.

You walk to the back of the grocery store, picking up a pint of icecream and hurrying to pay for it. Your day was long and the only thing you can think about is a hot bath. You don’t notice him until it’s too late. His smug face takes in your slightly messy appearance as you try to pass by him.

“Dinner, I assume. Your questionable behavior before is starting to make sense.”

You stare at him unsure how to respond and he tilts his head and smirks.

“I’m insinuating, dear, that your disrespectful behavior this morning was caused by a lack of adequate nutrition.”  

You readjust your shirt and let out a huff.

“I wonder,” you pause and smile sweetly. “How much shit did you have to consume in your ‘diet’ to become such an asshole?”

You pull out a pair of earphones and stick them in your ears, turning on your heel to pay for your dinner. He grabs your arm, pulling you close and tears out your headphones with his other hand.

“I’ve never met anyone who gets under my skin so easily, why do you make me so angry?” he sneers.

“Your anger is your responsibility,” you pull away, shaking slightly and holding back tears.

You can feel his eyes watching you as you jump into a self checkout line to pay.  As soon as you reach your apartment you let the tears fall. You hate him. You hate his stupid face and egotistical personality. You hate that you react to him, that your nature makes your knees go weak when you’re around him. You hug your bracelet against your chest and let out a shaky breath. As long as the bracelet stays on you’re safe. You just need to keep it on, that’s it.

You stand in Tony’s office staring at a folder.

“Send a courier or another employee, I don’t want to do it.”

Tony raises his eyebrows in shock at your sudden and uncharacteristic outburst.

“I need someone I trust to drop them off, Is there some reason you can’t do it?”

“I just don’t get along with Dr. Strange.”

“You’re dropping off a file, not going on a date,” he quips.

You take a deep breath and remind yourself that you love your job. It’s just a quick trip, drop it off and you’re done. It’s been a week since you saw him last, he doesn’t know who you are or he would already have come for you. Just a quick drop off, that’s it.

“I’m sorry sir. You’re right, I’m being unprofessional. I can do it.”

He waves you out and you call an uber riding it to what Tony described only as “The Sanctum”.  

You walk in and look around the large entry room, searching for someone who can help. It’s eerily quiet and you walk up a huge set of stars, wandering and looking at various museum-like displays until you’re on the top floor. The room is dark, the only light coming from a large round window. A stranger walks up and looks at you with a surprised expression.

“I’m sorry, I’m looking for Dr. Strange? I’m just dropping something off from Mr. Stark.”

“Ah of course, I’m Wong.” He says holding out his hand.

You reach out and take his hand and he looks at your wrist, grabbing onto your bracelet and pulling it off.

“I haven't seen one of these in a long time.” he examines the bracelet closely.

“That’s mine, give it back please.”

“Not until you tell me why you’re hiding your designation.”

“My Alpha is a cruel man, please give it back. I need it now.” you say urgently.

“Hey, nobody will hurt you here. Who is this Alpha?”

You start shaking and reach out again trying to take the bracelet back from him.

“Wong, I… Oh no, not you again,” Stephen says from an open doorway, his face turning into a scowl.

You grab the bracelet and push it on your wrist. It’s too late though, Stephens eyes widen in recognition as your scent hits him.

You bolt. You know you won’t make it out so you pull at the first door you find, slamming it closed and locking it.

The banging starts almost immediately.  “OMEGA, OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!” he yells.

“Don’t do this, please. I don’t want this. I need more time. Don’t force me, please,” you cry.

Sparks start flying in a circle in front of your eyes and your Alpha is suddenly walking through a portal. You look around, seeing a second door and yanking it open. Something catches your leg and you’re pulled backwards by what looks like a glowing rope.

“You knew I was your Alpha the whole time.” he says, moving his body to sit on your middle.

You bite your tongue and glare at him.

“Answer me!” He yells, grabbing your arms and pushing them above you.

His face is only inches from your own and you spit without thinking. He lets go of your hands and sits back, wiping the wetness from his face before staring at his wet hand.

“This explains everything, catching your scent, the extreme annoyance at your lack of respect, the anger I felt at the thought of you not eating like you should.”

He grabs your shirt, ripping it down the middle and causing buttons to fly through the air. Goosebumps appear over your skin and you shiver from both fear and the cold. He flips you over roughly, pulling off your shirt all the way. His hand roams to your mating gland. He leans over and breathes in, kissing it gently.

“Fuck you,” you say through clenched teeth.

He stops and waits until you’re done shaking.

“Why aren’t you biting me?” you whisper.

“You said you wanted time.”

He stands, pulling you up with him and makes a circle with his finger, opening up a portal in front of you. His hand is on your back pushing you through and when you turn around you're alone in what looks like a bedroom. Immediately, you run and try the door, opening it and sprinting out. The breath is knocked out of you as someone promptly slams you into a wall. You start coughing as the pain radiates through your body, then you’re falling onto a soft bed in the same room as before. After a few minutes of coughing you stand and run again, trying the window this time and just like before you’re caught and pushed through a portal back to the same room. You keep trying until you’re completely out of places to run, until your energy, both emotional and physical, is depleted.

The moment you finally give up a portal opens on your right and Stephen walks through.

It would have been easier if he had just bitten and fucked you right away. Letting you run over and over just to squash your hope is even more cruel, like a sick joke where he is the only person privy to the punchline. You stand in the middle of the room with your eyes down and wait for the inevitable.

He walks around you slowly and with each methodical step your anxiety grows until your knees buckle and you drop to the ground, crying into your hands. He stops and crouches in front of you, putting his finger under your chin and raising it slowly until you look him in the face. He lets go and keeps eye contact as he reaches between your legs and almost too gently runs his finger over your pussy. His eyes bore into you as his hand slowly becomes more and more noticeable above your clothes.

“I hate you.” you whisper as he pushes your legs apart.

He slides his hand into your pants and continues to rub over your clit, now making quick circles. His finger dips in your heat and you whimper involuntarily. You close your eyes as the sensations start to build and when you’re about to go over the line he stops. Your eyes shoot open and he smirks.

“It’s important you understand a few things.”

You aren’t expecting it, for him to suddenly pull his hand back and slap you across the face. You’re not prepared for the force behind his hand. How it makes your entire face sting, the pain radiating down your neck and shoulder. You grasp your cheek and bite your lip to avoid crying.

“I own you.” He slides his hand down to your pussy again.

“I own your pleasure.” He slides his hand up to your breast, pushing your bra down and pinching your nipple harshly. “And your pain.”

He backs away and crosses his arms, motioning with his head at the remaining clothes on your body. You slowly rise and remove your pants and underwear, standing in front of him fully naked.

His hand roams to your neck and he holds it gently.

“Hate me all you want.”

His hand constricts slightly around your throat.

“But don’t you dare run from me.”

His hand tightens again.

“Or hide.”

He keeps his hand on your throat and pushes you back to the bed until you’re lying on your back with him above you. His other hand reaches to your legs and taps between them gently. He puts his cheek against yours when you don’t move.

“Open Omega, and don’t you dare close those legs.”

He lets go of your neck when you relax your legs, backing away and unbuckling his pants.

“You don’t even like me,” you remark.

“I didn’t like who you were pretending to be.”

He walks over so that his sizable dick sits in front of your face.

“Suck,” he commands.

You suck on the tip without complaint and he grabs the back of your head and thrusts a few times before pulling out and patting your cheek.

“A much better use for your sharp tongue.”

You bite back a retort and look away as he positions himself in between your legs and pushes himself in with one forceful thrust. You let out a whimper and reach out your arms around him in response. He grabs your shoulders and ruts into you.

“This is where you belong Omega,” he wipes a tear from your cheek, a stark contrast to the painful pace of his thrusts.

“You.” he thrusts. “Belong,” The force starts to push you up on the bed. “ To me!”

He flips you suddenly and fucks you again from behind, gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. A warm hand brushes over your mating gland and you feel his breath against your back. Stars appear before your eyes as he bites, your entire body consumed with the conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure. It pushes you into an intense orgasm that leaves you shaking from the adrenaline.

“Understand?”

You nod and he slides into bed next to you and kisses between your shoulder blades. You look over at his discarded clothes, noticing the gleam of your bracelet poking out of a pocket.

“Were you serious when you said you wouldn’t let your Omega out of the house?”

“Now that you mention it, I’ve actually had a change of heart.”

He peppers kisses across your neck and back.

“You, my adventurous Omega, won’t even leave this room without me by your side.”

You try to move but he holds you close, effectively chaining you to him. You blink back a tear and shift closer to him, letting yourself relax into his arms.

“There you go, let go and accept it.”

“Never,” you say between choked sobs.

His hand roams up your body, exploring every bit.

“We’ll see.”

[ageofevermore]

Eighteen | T. Holland

Summary → you’re tired of feeling like the world silences you, but after an interview with sebastian and anthony, you start to wonder if maybe it’s your fault.

Warning(s) → mentions of anxiety, mentions of sexual harassment, mentions of inequality in gender roles, use of the word slut, fluff if you squint 

Word Count → 1.9k

Note → this is a heavier topic, one that might be personal to some. if you don’t think you can handle the subject matter, please don’t force yourself to. this is relatively watered down, but it doesn’t take a genius to see what’s not being said. the ending features boyfriend!tom consoling the reader, so it does end on a fluffy note, but don’t hold out for those few ending paragraphs. 

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It’s getting hotter in the interviews. A thin layer of sweat sparkles on your skin, and even though the air conditioning has been turned down multiple times, there are too many people in the room to feel any drastic differences. It’s unfortunate for you. Hot flashes are a lovely addition to your anxiety disorder, and press always sets your nerves ablaze. It doesn't matter what project you’re promoting, who you're partnered with, or what you're wearing-- you’re always hot. 

Your cheeks are flushed dangerously when the last interview before lunch is called for yourself, Sebastian, and Anthony. This is your first press tour as an adult. You joined the marvel franchise years ago, when being eighteen felt like the equivalent of turning thirty, and you weren’t blind to the changes of tone. People were harsher to you, more forward. If they weren’t shutting you up, they were hinting at something less then appropriate, usually something sexual. 

The next interview started with a short introduction to the media outlet, and your interviewer. He was middle aged, kind smile, salt and pepper hair. He asked for your names, then he told you his, and one by one he shook your hands. His grip on you was criminal, lasting longer than was comfortable. Sebastian and Anthony we’re oblivious to the few extra seconds of contact between you and him, but it made your skin crawl in a familiar discomfort. 

Your fingers curled into fists, heart high in your throat. The questions started out easy. They were mostly directed towards the boys, like always, but this time you couldn’t find yourself to be annoyed. You had dealt with handsy and sexually charged men before, but he set a fire beneath you. It wasn’t behavior you should tolerate, but being a woman in the industry, inappropriate touches and glances we’re easier ignored then dealt with. When you spoke up you caused drama, made headlines, attracted nasty social media comments that called you a whore. It was easier to just internalize. 

“Y/N.” 

You hummed, looking towards the call of your name. He was smiling sweetly at you again, a predatory glint in his eyes that put you on edge. You shifted your weight closer to Anothony unconsciously giving the hungry man your professional attention and a nod. 

He shuffles through his index cards, but his eyes don’t read the scripted questions his employers have supplied him with. It’s not often male interviews do their own research, usually they’re briefed by a colleague and handed a set of questions and topic point by a higher level employee, but this man doesn’t even read the card before he’s staring you down and opening his mouth. 

“You finally got the Stark suit update,” He says, motioning towards the promo poster that shows off your CGI suit in all of its edited glory. Although the actual costume is breathtaking, the computer effects give it an entirely different, more technologically charged, feel. 

“Yeah,” You nod, a forced smile on your lips as you try to ease the uncomfortable tension from your tone. “She’s finally--” 

He cuts you off before you can give him any explanation for the upgrade. He isn’t the first one to address your new wardrobe, but he’s the first one to leave you antsy and uncomfortable. Sebastian frowns when you’re cut off, but he doesn’t think much of it. He lets the man continue, though a professional sharpness pulls his grin into a scowl. 

“Were you able to wear undergarments underneath it? It’s tight, doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Was there ever a moment where you reflected how much your wardrobe has changed through the years?” He asks, a dirty grin on his lips. 

Sebastian and Anthony are shocked at the blunt, inappropriate construction of his question. The public eye knew nothing of your battles with body image, or health concerns that lead to surgery. Your mind was plagued with doubts and self-criticism, and his invasive, pervy question both infuriated you and broke you apart. 

You stutter to find an answer, heat overwhelming you. Your hand grips onto Anthony’s arm, and you can’t decide whether anger is what burns your skin or anxiety. Are you making a big deal of this? You don’t know. You feel like you have every right to feel violated and uncomfortable, but you’re a young woman in the entertainment industry, isn’t this the kind of ignorant commentary you signed up for? You don’t know anymore. You grew up with people always having an opinion on your appearance, sexualizing you as early as twelve. You’ve carried around pepper spray and  self-defense keychains long before you even had an understanding towards predatory men and sexual assault. You’ve been conditioned by the world and the media to carry on with your day, no matter the broken boundaries or disrespect. You’re tired of remaining silent, feeling like your less than your male counterparts. Women and men should hold no differing values in society, and yet you walk to your apartment with keys between your fingers and Tom doesn’t even lock his front door. 

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question.” You choke out, voice hard and nowhere near the soft and frilly pitch it usually obtains. You’re livid, absolutely pissed to the point of a quivering cupids bow. You’re humiliated, and horrified. Your feelings are everywhere, but you remain as professional as you can. If you yell, try to defend yourself at all, you’ll be painted as a diva in every media outlet for the next week, subliminally inviting backlash and slut-shaming comments into your social media messages. If Sebastian and Anthony come to your defense, they’ll be sung high-praises. 

The double standards men and women are held to, especially in the industry, is infuriating. 

He stumbles out a response, but his time is already up. For the first time today, you’re thankful these interviews are only ten minutes. He leaves the room, shown out by security, and even then he still sends you a wink over his shoulder as if your glimmering eyes meant nothing. 

“Hey,” Sebastian's voice is soft, his hand on the small of your back. You flinch away from his contact, head heavy in memories you’d rather forget. 

“Sorry,” You mumble, voice trembling with tears that you refuse to let fall. You’ve already been humiliated, you don’t need to further paint yourself as some helpless teenage girl. “I’m sorry. I’m going to go find Tom.” 

Anthony and Sebastian nod tightly. They watch as you quiver in your heels, hands clenched into fists at your sides. They’re proud of the way you handled yourself, though still absolutely enraged that any adult would find it appropriate to address you like that, especially in a professional setting. 

You stumble into the dressing rooms, right into your boyfriend's chest. Your mind is racing, but the minute you attach yourself to him, you break down. Shy sobs break Tom’s heart. He holds the back of your head to his chest, other hand on the small of your back and wrapped around your waist as you cry. You’re trying to stay quiet, but the attention is already on you. Chris and Robert are worried, and Zoe’s trying to act like she hasn’t noticed, but they don’t all watch as you try to console yourself with your boyfriend's warmth. 

“What happened?” Tom’s voice is soft, trying to keep this a private moment. He tries to move the both of you back into a corner, but you panic and squeeze around his waist tighter. “Baby,” 

You and Tom have been dating for six months, and although you’ve shared with him stories of your traumatic experiences as a woman living in LA, he’s never seen anything upset you like this. 

“I’m such a slut.” Your words come out so shy and small, you aren’t even sure you can hear yourself. No matter how  many times you tell yourself that your makeup and clothes don’t give men permission to make passes or feel you up, it’s getting harder to believe that your verbal consent is as strong as your clothes. Maybe you are asking for it, and in a wave of nausea, disgusted with yourself, your arms leave Tom’s waist to pull at the bottom of your borrowed dress. 

You’ve been hit on in sweats before. In ball gowns and crop tops. Somebody’s even pushed themselves against you while you wore Tom’s hoodie, but you still convince yourself that it’s your fault. That you we’re asking for it. 

Tom’s jaw sets harshly into place, and he tilts your chin upwards to meet his eye. His brown stare is hard, only adding to your distress. Maybe he agrees. Maybe he’ll blame you for what just happened. He’s probably going to break up with you. Other guys just can’t keep their hands and eyes off of you. He doesn’t want a slut for a girlfriend. 

“What the fuck did you just say, Y/N?” His tone causes you to flinch, words bouncing off of the dressing room walls. Everyone flinches, hearing only his heavy response. You try to divert your attention, but Tom squeezes your jaw, forcing your eyes back on his. “Say it again.” 

“I’m such a slut.” You sniffle, submitting beneath his fiery glare. Tensions are high as you try not to break down again. Apart from Tom, everyone in the room has watched you grow up, never losing that shy and sweet sense of yourself. You’re an exuberant light, a brilliant scene partner, a rising star who has big things in store for the future. You are many things, but a slut, isn’t one of them. 

Tom looks behind you, glaring straight at Anthony and Sebastion who are both stone eyed and still. They’ve not calmed down any since leaving the production room, instead, it seems their anger has only risen. The sight of you so distraught churns their stomachs. 

“Some asshole tried to make a pass.” Sebastion said in short, words angry and delivered as such. 

Tom’s breath hitched, his arms tightening around you and pulling you closer to his chest. His chin digs into your crown, eyes pinches shut as his hot exhale feels heavy. 

“You aren’t a slut, Y/N.” He doesn’t leave any room for argument, but you try anyways. Tom has no patience for it, and so he tilts your head back and plants his lips against yours harshly and eagerly, desperate to show you love and intimacy. “You. Aren’t. A. Slut.”

You nod, ducking your head back down into his chest as you try to believe him-- try to remember that you never asked for hands around your waist, or cupping your boobs. Wolf whistles, or handshakes that turn into forced frontal hugs. You didn’t ask for any of the harassment, no matter the outfits you wore and what they revealed.  

Tom lowers his voice, whispers melting into your hair, “This isn’t your fault, baby. Please believe me. None of this, is your fault. It’s disgusting and inappropriate, and you don’t deserve to deal with any of it.” 

You sniffle. You can’t tell him you believe him, not yet. Not when your heart is so heavy. Maybe one day you’ll believe him, but that’s just not now. 

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