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oliviahallwriting · 2 months ago

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Chapter 15

Every university, from the online institutions to the Ivy Leagues, shares the same morbid nickname for the prelude to final exams. For most, Dead Week was worth its reputation, as students collapsed from several all-nighters (ironically, performing much worse on their finals as a result).

But Jun had prevailed through both Dead Week and finals, slamming out an, if he said so himself, solid, pathos-driven essay on gender performativity. He’d also scripted and led two interviews for his comms class without damaging the A/V club’s tech. He’d even finished his photography portfolio and submitted it a day in advance.

His phone flickered to life from where it rested on the desk. Hopefully it’d be Tom; they hadn’t met up since dinner the week before, though he’d been good about replying to texts. Students tended to isolate themselves as they ran up on deadlines, and Tom had fallen prey.

A trap, Jun thought, annoyed. Social interaction was good for learning, and certainly better than eight straight hours in the library. Study for three hours, break for two, then study for three more, if necessary. Nobody had followed his advice thus far. Not that he was bitter, of course, and anyway, it was too late now. His plane for winter break would leave in six hours.

The phone on his desk was still alert, as if asking him why he hadn’t replied yet. Maybe it’d be one of the agencies he’d contacted, Jun thought. After he’d learned about RAIN at the party, he’d made some calls. One was to the FDA, but, after he’d been on hold for a few hours, he didn’t have evidence to show. A sketchy summer curriculum of a university’s masters’ program wasn’t enough, apparently. More recently, he’d abandoned at least one of his minorly-held principles and called the campus police, but they’d given a similar answer. At least they’d cared enough to ask for his name.

He checked the phone, and saw, to mild surprise, Kiyana’s name at the top of the screen.

Hey, can we talk before you leave?

Kiyana

Yeah, what’s up? Been a while! 🙂

Jun

In person. Where are you?

Kiyana

Uh, we can meet in the library, or the Quirby, or something. 🤔

Jun

Library’s fine.

Kiyana

Another boring texter, Jun decided, after putting on his coat and boots. Who didn’t like to occasionally season their conversations with an emoji or a gif or something? Besides Tom, of course, who refused to convey more emotion than a single question mark. But he thought Kiyana had been less reserved.

It was a little weird that she’d demand they talk in person. Even if she seemed okay, he decided that he wouldn’t leave her without scheduling her a visit to the campus mental health staff. And then he felt bad for not checking in more often; to his knowledge, only Tom had talked to her since the party.

He met Kiyana outside the main library. She was sitting on a bench, surrounded by gardens, and looked unaware of the chill breeze. He startled a little when he saw the eerie, unfocused expression on her face—she was definitely not doing okay—and decided how best to stage an intervention.

“Hi,” he said, cheerfully. Then he winced; the affectation was false enough to be embarrassing.

“Hi,” Kiyana replied, her voice stilted and weird. “I wanted to show you something.”

Jun felt goosebumps on his arms. Something in him was telling him to leave, though he ignored it and took a step closer. He wouldn’t sit next to her, he decided, which should be a reasonable enough compromise.

Kiyana retrieved something from her bag, which looked like a perfume sampling bottle. She sprayed it around her, too close to Jun to be polite.

“Hey, watch the product,” he said, trying to carry a jovial tone. “Tom might judge me for wearing a scent—” he said, and faltered. The mist didn’t spray like anything.

Kiyana searched her backpack for something else. A headset, by the looks of it. She put a microphone to her mouth and fiddled with a speaker, which she wore around her neck.

“Wait a minute,” Jun started, and then, louder, “Wait!”

He grabbed Kiyana’s shoulder, but he faltered, unsure about whether his next move should be to take the microphone away from her, or to yank the speaker from her neck, or to unplug Kiyana’s phone from the speaker’s jack, and in that hesitant moment, a bell rang. The sound was from the speaker, and the world shifted.

The bell’s peal, impossibly, seemed to sap all other sounds from the area, including Jun’s own heartbeat. It disoriented him, even as he knew it was an illusion, or, no, RAIN, that must have been it, and he should, he should—

“Focus on my words,” Kiyana said, and Jun could do nothing else. “Go to the campus police and tell them I sent you, then forget this happened.”

So he left.

…

A few blocks away, a police officer paced near the back of a conference room. She wore a headset, a badge engraved with “Catherine”, and a nervous expression.

“Stay seated,” she said, though she knew it wasn’t necessary. The student in front of her was unlikely to stand without an order.

Someone rapped on the door. George, Catherine thought, from the sharp one-two sound. He was her partner. “Partner” in a strictly business sense, until five, or wherever the local restaurants started their happy hour. Though they hadn’t been on one of those dates in ages, since this RAIN business started. Now, when they weren’t working overtime, neither of them had felt cheery enough for a celebration.

Sure enough, it was her partner who strode into the room without waiting for a reply.

“Bring this one to Cynthia,” he said. George was military-gruff, courtesy of a few years in Iraq, but he spoke in close to a mutter and couldn’t meet her eyes. “I looked through his file.”

Catherine glanced downwards briefly before meeting George’s eyes. Sometimes he ribbed her for her occasional overly-emotional approach to cases. She thought she’d done a pretty good job hiding her expression this time, but George shook his head.

“I know you like to protect them,” he said. “But she’ll replace us if she thinks we don’t share—” he coughed, then continued— “share her opinions.”

“You mean ‘me,’ right? You’re stoic. Pretty sure she’s always been convinced about where you stand.”

“Cath,” George said, “If she transfers you, I’m walking. And if she makes you stay, then, money be damned, I’m cracking open the gun locker.”

Catherine smiled grimly, but she felt it fade when she turned from her partner towards the subject, who, as she expected, hadn’t moved from the conference-room chair.

“It’s fucked up,” she said. “What she’s doing.”

“Yeah,” George agreed, “But at least my kids won’t have college debt. And at least we’re the ones doing this. You’ve met the city’s police department. I wouldn’t trust ‘em not to take advantage, and, you know.”

Catherine heard him falter a little at the end. It was subtle enough that no one else would have caught it, but she’d heard him stumble before, when they were laying together and he’d overcome his own personality to say something sweet.

“What do I know?”

George sighed. “Maybe she’s right. You don’t know how this works. No one does, not really. At least she’s supposed to be giving this to professionals, right? And I heard the next version won’t come with side effects.”

Catherine nodded. George crossed the room to put his arm on her shoulder.

“Knock it out, then go home,” he said. “Shouldn’t take long.”

He dimmed one of the floor lights as he left. Catherine took a moment to think about what she’d do with her bonus five years’ salary. Maybe she’d retire early, with her dogs, or she’d go on vacation somewhere. One of those family cruises, perhaps. She could ask George to go with her, and bring his kids. Both of their spouses were out of the picture, and had been for one and two years, respectively, so there wasn’t even any harm in it. And his kids might grow to like her. She could work on her out-loud reading skills first. Unless they’d rather read their own chapter books; she’d have to ask George after this all blew over.

Catherine took out her script and opened a voice-recording app on her phone. For the first time she realized the potential security breach; the IT guys on campus told her that it wasn’t hard for someone dedicated to break into a voice memo. But Cynthia herself had told her that she could use her phone for this if she’d wanted, that it’d be easier to just send her the file when it was through, and to not worry about using secure networks or what have you. At fifty-five, Catherine was too old to care about that kind of thing. But Cynthia was young, and the leader of, what, the marketing and business side? She should care, certainly—

And then Catherine realized that she was stalling, and dangerously close to talking herself out of doing what she was paid for, so she walked towards the student on the chair.

Like the previous two interrogations—no, interviews—she’d hosted, she played the peal from her speaker and winced as the student sat upright in his chair, at attention.

“Answer the following honestly,” she started. “What is your name?”

“Jun,” the student said. It tracked with the information on the script, so Catherine nodded.

“Are you familiar with the chemical abbreviated ‘RAIN’?” she continued.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“It was a chemistry experiment from Dr. Rose’s summer class.”

“What was the experiment about?” Catherine asked, a little nervous. Her script for this section said that ‘answers may vary’ and for her to ‘gather details’ and not much else.

“Trance-inducing compounds,” Jun said.

Catherine looked at the script, at its mandatory reply, and the words ‘speak with confidence’. Her confidence shouldn’t matter, since she was the one with the speaker. Some kind of workplace-compliance nonsense. It was surprising Cynthia hadn’t been in human resources. She didn’t speak like a therapist, hypno or otherwise, that was for damn sure.

God damn it, she was procrastinating again. Her pauses would be noticeable in the recording.

“No, it wasn’t,” she said.

Jun looked at her blankly.

“Pay attention,” Catherine said. “RAIN is not a concern. It was only a college experiment about acids and bases. Dr. Rose is safe. She quit the school due to fatigue. Nod if you understand.”

Jun nodded.

“Who else knows about RAIN?”

“Tom, Kiyana, and Laura. Tom’s last name is Rose; he’s the professor’s grandson. I don’t know the last names of the other two.”

“Thank you,” Catherine replied, though it wasn’t on the script. “Be at peace with this information,” she said. “You aren’t worried about RAIN anymore. Now you can focus on other things, like your studies.”

Jun smiled, making Catherine wince. A shower sounded nicer by the minute.

“Tell your friends to come to the campus police or to Kiyana if they mention RAIN again. She will tell them the truth, too. Nod if you understand.”

Jun nodded.

“You heard this information from the Internet. You were never in this station, or in this room, and you’ve been studying for the past hour. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Return to your living accommodations,” Catherine said. “Once you reach the quad, regain focus.”

She stopped the recording and took a deep breath.

…

Jun realized he was alert in the line at the campus mini-mart. He felt high, which was weird for a few reasons. The first was that it was five on a Wednesday. The second was that he’d spent the last hour studying in the library, though his last final was yesterday. And the last was that he’d only messed with a few drugs in his life, and didn’t even have any in his suite. But nothing else explained the weird haze he felt. Everything was moving by him, and either too quickly or in half-motion.

The cashier stared at him and told him a number. Ah, his total. The cost of whatever he was holding, which he dumbly realized was a stick of deodorant.

A few steps later, before he’d even left the store, he gazed at the deodorant in his hand, and put some on. He was sweating, and for some reason it felt like the thing to do. It felt right.

When he reached the landing to his flat, everything that was slow sped up and everything that was fast slowed down, all at once, like the world’s heart had skipped a beat. Jun threw the cologne in his backpack, and blushed a little: had he put the deodorant on while still in the store?

He walked faster and sped through the rest of his vacation packing; finals had ended, and he’d wanted to chat with Tom before his plane left.

#writing #novel

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sippakornj · 2 years ago

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What I've got & been through: a JM310 reflection

What's the worst that could happen?

That was my thought over 60 kilometers away from where I was supposed to be at the time. It was the first class, and nothing ever really happened on the first day of class, right?

But as it turned out, a lot.

“You’re not coming? There are assignments,” a text message from a friend reads.

“Just wanted to let you know that the professor has a ton of assignments for us today,” another student wrote to me.

My first impression of the class is one that’s set from afar. I was constantly playing catch-ups with the class; student grouping, new chat and application to join, three homeworks assigned- one of them due the very same night. I remember going through the slides on my phone thinking, “this is a lot to take in.”

It was a genuine whiplash coming from the previous professor who was a bit more laid-back and made learning into a nice and comfortable atmosphere. This was different. It’s intense, strict, and nerve-racking. When I made it to the second class, the roll call started right before the clock struck 9.30 a.m. That’s when you know it’s serious.

I don’t have a problem with being on time, but it is a problem when I can’t seem to fall asleep ever since the mid-term period. It’s either a couple hours of sleep, or well into the double digits, no in between. It was a real struggle having to get up just about every time I was falling asleep. When Tuesdays ended, I almost always crashed at the foot of the bed the moment I’m at my place.

It was not all bad though. I got to work during the quiet hours of the night when I’m the most productive. Reading is something that I truly enjoyed. I like the idea of reading, but not as much as doing other things. So, it was nice having the necessary push for me to read something. The articles we had to read varied in quality in my opinion, and maybe that’s the point—finding the good and the bad.

Every piece that I had to read and write helps me in becoming a better writer which is the reason why I’m studying here in the first place. I could tell all that was taught in the class, but I can’t tell you exactly what I’ve learned from this class, except that I was able to grow from it—as a writer, a student, and a person.

Working in a group has really put things into perspective. It showcased your strengths, but also exposed your weaknesses. For the first time, I had to accept that I cannot do everything alone, and that I needed help. I let things go and put faith in my teammates—most of whom I have never worked with prior to this. It took a few trials and errors, but we all eventually figured out the group dynamics. I adjusted. Sooner or later, we all have to. At least, that’s what our group did anyway.

In the end, I’m really proud of the work that our group was able to accomplish even if the end result wasn’t exactly perfect. But there will always be another opportunity to learn and improve. Sure, it would be nice to have that interview with the member of the House of Representatives whom I’ve been talking to and waiting for since the middle of November. It’s a shame that this wasn't able to happen before the deadline.

But I’m not going to let that go. I’m still doing that by the way. I've been working on this for far too long to give it all up in the end. Tomorrow, I will interview this person for the work we submitted yesterday.

And maybe, finally, get some rest.

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takes1 · 3 years ago

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Hii!! Could you do a Bakugou gets horny while you’re cuddling?? Fem or gender neutral is totally fine w me! If not then thats okay, hope you have a great day :))

FUCK YES i love this i was literally just thinking about writing something like this today !! hope i interpreted this right! tysm for requesting :)

warnings. nsfw, scary grandpa sneeze, academic deadlines, some light grinding, groping, light scratching, friends with benefits, kissy-kissy, minors stay off my lawn!!

details. gn!reader, aged up kats, 1.5k words

scenario series. k. bakugou, hawks is next ;)

links. my ao3 / p.2 + more bakugou / requests open

11:30 p.m

You took what felt like your first real breath in hours and hit submit on your Powerpoint with 29 minutes to spare.

A strangled "Fuck," fell from your lips as you leaned almost too far back in your desk chair and waited for your eyes to adjust to everything that was not a computer screen.

Aizawa really needed to let up on those mixed-media projects. How the hell was knowing how to format part of the Hero-Course curriculum? Were villains going to quiz you on text files in the heat of a fight?

You reached for your phone and cringed at the many missed group texts of the class struggling as a whole to finish their projects, asking for help, sending mass prayers. Not feeling particularly saintly after your three-hour frenzy, you decided to knock the 52 notifications off of your lock screen and decided they'd have to suffer together.

As you were cleaning out more unnecessary notifications, one from 11:12 sent a small surge of panic through you. You missed a text from Bakugou.

KB: Can't sleep.

That was bullshit, of course, he could sleep. He slept more and better than anyone you knew. But as with most things he said, it was code for something he didn't want to say straight up.

It was difficult trying to be quiet when the door to his dorm needed about 37 gallons WD40-- you flinched with every screech it filled the room with and had to stop to catch your breath after you locked it.

A figure was stomach-down on his bed, clutching the pillow under his head like a vice so hard you couldn't be convinced he was actually sleeping. Unlike many nights that he so humbly requested your presence, this time he was without his tanktop.

Every inch of his room was actively working against you. The hardwood floor also tried its damndest to alert him of your presence as you resorted to a goofy, Grinch-like tiptoe towards his twin mattress, your shadow on the wall a simultaneously humbling thing to witness and one more flag to stir him.

Too bad he was already awake.

"About time," He spat, grumpy, but raised his arm to invite you into his bed.

The motion gave you a full view of his impressive build. You couldn't spare to think about it for long, though. You didn't want to make this weird.

"20 minutes was that bad, huh?"

To express his supreme frustration and play hard to get, he rolled his eyes and turned his back to you. It did not work. It was through his invitation that you were here, so all it succeeded in doing was make him seem like an even bigger softie.

Your friendship was hard to explain, and these weird undertones were even harder to justify. But the general rule was that a relationship wasn't beneficial to either of you right now with school, work, and social pressures. For now, late-night cuddles, poorly-timed and rushed make-outs, vague texts, loaded stares, and slightly too much touching during training were enough.

He wouldn't budge unless you gave in a tiny bit. So, you scooted closer, shoved your bottom arm around his tiny waist, and wrapped your top arm around his chest with a hand gripping his shoulder.

"I was doing homework, if you must know," Your lips brushed his ear briefly before you set your head on the pillow behind his, talking into his unruly hair, "Not everyone can go to bed at 9:00, like you, Star Student."

A small grunt. Rough palms slid up your softer arms and rested there with a quiet exhale.

Your hands automatically started scratching light circles on the space between his neck and shoulder, noting how his muscle slowly, hesitantly, loosened as he relaxed.

Bakugou smelled so sweet. His hair, his pillows, his skin, his room. It was a borderline aphrodisiac for you. And god, did it stick. After some suspicious stares and cryptic questions from Kirishima the one time you didn't shower after a cuddle session, you made sure to scrub extra hard, throw the clothes you wore in the hamper immediately, and overcompensate with lotions and perfumes to get the caramel scent off. Anything to avoid getting discovered.

You must've been more burnt-out than you thought because exhaustion was starting to lull you into premature sleep fast. Bakugou was too warm and comfortable; you briefly worried you might not wake up to get to your room in the morning before everyone else was roaming the halls.

Some part of your brain ruled that it didn't matter, this was far too perfect and you let yourself drift off.

"AAAAAAH-TCH!"

Startled out of your wits, you found yourself wide awake in an upright position, hands retracted to protect yourself from danger with a pitifully scared yelp.

Bakugou was sniffling underneath you, eyes barely open even after that heart-stopping sneeze.

"Nice, Bakugou," You muttered with a bite.

Defensive of his devastating volume, he scoffed, "I sneezed! What, I'm not allowed to sneeze?"

There was no telling how late it was now, and you had class in the morning. You flumped back down, defeated but still bitter, with your hands wrapped around yourself this time.

You yawned, "Gonna wake up the whole damn building..."

"Shut up," He barked, head turned expectedly to your huddled form, expecting snuggles. When they were not provided, he huffed in an even harsher tone, "Come here."

Tired, you were too fed up to dance around him like usual --funny how a sneeze could do that-- and ignored him. If his allergies were the reason you flunk your presentation of that Powerpoint tomorrow morning, he will never hear the end of it.

He turned over. Bakugou did not like that, because Bakugou was the only person who was allowed to be difficult.

He sucked his teeth at you, pulled you into his chest forcefully, and kicked a heavy leg over your hips, head resting on top of yours as you were given no other choice than to be squished or wrap your arms around him. It was impossible to be grumpy when he was so unique and intense in his affection. You pressed your head into the soft muscle of his pec and gave a content sigh through your nose.

With so much surface area to touch, you enjoyed running your nails freely over the width of his upper back. He was so well-built. It made you think of how much of a shame his attitude was because he'd have so many options as arguably the hottest guy in 1-A.

Your palm ran over the warm lines you created in his skin and dove to his mid-back, where you could better feel his muscle anticipate your feather-light touches. The strong arms around you adjusted to tighten and his tummy flexed.

"Sorry," You mumbled, mistakenly thinking that he was uncomfortable and wanted you to stop.

Before you could take your hands any remarkable distance away, though, there was a budding pressure against your front that made your heart drop in confused arousal.

Maybe it was naive to be so surprised by it, but Bakugou, in all the times you cuddled, never got noticeably hard. The both of you were typically careful to not touch hips, really. Now you were awake.

You continued your scratching and gentle massage against his lower back. The heartbeat in your ear and on your hips was fast enough to convince you he didn't plan on going to sleep anytime soon. You wondered if he could feel yours, too, and grew nervous at the idea. Would this...change things?

There was little time to roll this idea over in your head, because he suddenly decided he was tired of this position and muttered against your hair, "Turn around."

The space between your legs was on fire. You wanted to look at his face, but before you knew it, you were nestled deep into him and his leg was thrown over your hips again.

To test it, you pushed back into him and received a strong, suffocating squeeze in return as he shifted half of his weight forward through his arm and hips, practically crushing you. He cleared his throat and wrapped an arm around your waist, the other toying with your hair. No mistake, he knew what he was doing.

He moved on quickly to cup your face, rubbing your cheek with the hard pad of his thumb, and huffed, amused, at how flustered you were. A big, messy kiss on your exposed neck made you swallow a sigh.

"Bakugou--"

"Katsuki," He corrected.

That made this exponentially harder.

"We have class in the morning," You whispered, torn between your desire to sleep and desire to continue whatever this was.

He only hummed against your ear, unfazed by this fact. His top hand lowered to your side and sent your tummy in a buzzing frenzy to resist his temptations. He chose to do this on a Thursday night? The presentation was worth 20% of your final grade.

But his cock felt so good through your shorts, and his hand was prying open your legs to feel how hot you were for him. Your fingers clawed on his bicep, but they didn't try to stop him. You could hear the shit-eating grin in his voice between the noisy sucking, "Mm, I can be quick."

#mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #my hero academia #mha scenarios #bakugou scenarios #takesone #bakugou katsuki #gn reader

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bedlamsbard · 3 years ago

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1200 words written today -- adding in some scenes to Yonder 7. I think one of these is skewing the scene that immediately follows (I’m actually adding mid-scene, rather than whole new scenes), but I’m too tired right now to make the connective tissue work.

Had a deadline today and the subsequent anxiety spiral, since this required me to wait for someone else to submit material after I did my submission. (It’s fellowship application season.) I’m very tired.

Snippet from On Yonder Hill 7. (Thor never regained consciousness between, you know, being apparently horribly murdered and getting snapped, in case you’re wondering why the timeline doesn’t quite seem to add up.)

She was out of practice talking to Thor. Her exhausted mind stuttered for a moment too long, uncertain what to distract him with.

“What he – Thanos – what he did to me was for Loki, you know,” Thor said, his voice heavy. “And all three of us knew it. Everyone there knew it – the Black Order, I mean. He had the woman and the man – the one Steve and your sister killed today?”

“Corvus Glaive,” Natasha said, a little surprised he didn’t know their names. “And Proxima Midnight.”

Thor nodded. “Thanos had them hold Loki while he –” He touched his throat, where beneath his open-necked shirt there was still a little bruising visible; the damage had been so bad that even Asgardian healing hadn’t done all its work yet. “– and Loki screamed for me the whole time. I have held my brother when he died – or both of us thought him dying – and it was terrible, but at least that was clean battle. This…wasn’t.”

He touched his throat again, then took his hand away very quickly. “He begged,” he said. “I’ve never heard Loki – and it was the last thing I remember before I woke on the ship today. My brother pleading for my life and being denied.” He looked down, swallowing convulsively.

Natasha put a hand on his arm, and when Thor turned towards her, she leaned up and hugged him. She had to stand on her toes to do so, but Thor’s arms went back around her with the ease for whom affection came easily.

“I’ve had an odd day,” he said, his voice a little wry, though there was still a note of stunned shock in it. For him Thanos’s massacre on the Statesman was only hours old, not to mention his own murder. At least he had missed the Snap entirely.

#daily fic snippet #roleswap endgame au concept

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troped-fanfic-challenge · 3 years ago

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AUTHOR REVEAL of the JATP ROUND 2: FLUFF FICS!

The Tropes:

Exes

Time Loop AU

Camp Counselors

Prank Wars

————

Okay, Campers, Rise and Shine! (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: When Reggie launches a particularly ill-advised prank war at HGC Ranch, Luke’s fully prepared to take it in stride.

When the days start looping, though, he begins to suspect that this might all be a little bit above his head.

In other words, he’s at least 78% sure that the time loop isn’t a direct result of Reggie’s pranks.

Maybe 77%.

Oh, well.

At least he’s not in it alone.

(The Groundhog Day meets Gravity Falls meets Summer Camp meets The Author’s Own Distaste For Prank Wars AU that no one asked for. Ever. At all.)

Starting To Forget (Just What Summer Ever Meant To You) (Not Rated) [Flynn x Carrie] by bi_magic

Summary: Last summer didn’t end on a positive note for Carrie Wilson - she and her girlfriend broke up on the last night of camp, and she’s been miserable since. But it seems that the universe is intent on having her fix that this summer. Even if that means she has to live through the same day over and over and over again until she does.

Creative B.S. Was No More, Was No Less (Look Around, You're Gonna Miss What You Found) (Rated T) [Alex x Luke, Flynn x Reggie] by @americanhoney913

Summary: The midnight men move again

Don’t know when

Best friends forever

In trouble again

Here’s to you, here’s to me

Over the rafters and we’re free

— Over the Rafters, Rick Schiffman

***

Alex and Luke go undercover on a mission to a summer camp in order to find a talisman that could endanger the camp and all the kids. While there, they bond with the kids and make peace with the fact that they broke up.

While Alex and Luke are away, Flynn accidentally fucks with time.

bitch but like romantically (Rated T) [Flynn x Carrie] by @screamin-amuseum

Summary: The dining hall’s exactly the same as it has been for two mornings now, and Flynn doesn’t hesitate to poke Willie twice on the nose and whisper “pancake” on her way past their seat.

His eyes widen and he whips his head around to follow them, excitement glimmering in their eyes.

“Really?” they blurt. Flynn rolls her eyes and nods.

or: flynn gets stuck in a time loop. {for troped jatp round 2}

down by the bay (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @sunsetcurbed

Summary: Over time, Camp Phantom has simply become known as a selective summer camp: one that took only the kids that Caleb saw promise in. And Caleb wasn’t exactly lying. He really did take only the ones he saw promise in, he simply looked for different traits than others might.

For example, say, hypothetically, a boy who could see the future. Or, hypothetically, a girl who could interact with ghosts. Or, hypothetically, a boy who could summon objects to him with a simple thought. Or, and this is completely hypothetical mind you, a boy who could manipulate time.

Those might be some traits that Caleb saw promise in. Just, like, as examples.

Time will tell (But only if you do it right) (Rated T) [Flynn x Carrie] by @malecacidd

Summary: Carrie had been acting a little off for a week or so, but Flynn was pretty much known for seeing something in nothing, and that was probably what they were doing then. If something was going on, Carrie would tell her eventually.

Who knew all it took was a little bit of miscommunication to mess up time itself?

and so it begins (Rated T) [Bobby x Reggie] by @comeonpeters

Summary: It’s the first day of their second week at Camp Carolling (they’re spending an entire month, and they’re getting paid to be there!) when Reggie gets a little lost in the woods. During this misadventure into the woods, he finds an egg shaped rock, an inhabited cabin that may or may not be riddled with signs, and something that might be magic. He probably doesn’t get paid enough to discover magic.

or, when they were thirteen years old, four boys met at camp carolling and eventually became a band that almost became something legendary. now, all four boys are coming back as counselors, three boys in one band and one boy in his own solo act.

so begins the reunion, though it doesn’t go how any of them imagine.

Porcupine Day (Rated T) [Bobby x Ray x Rose] by @wr0temyway0ut

Summary: It’s been fifteen years since Trevor broke up with Ray and Rose and they’re… not fine, but managing. But when Trevor to adds insult to injury and buys the camp across the lake from the one they once owned together, the two camps become locked in a bitter rivalry. With neither side willing to set aside their pride and work out their issues, the universe decides to settle their fates itself.

Day After Day (After Day After Day) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by hufflebibin

Summary: When Alex met Willie just after their senior year of high school, they spent a wonderful three months dating before their relationship ended in a blaze of glory. Now, four years later, they meet again as counselors at a summer camp. The only problem? Alex keeps reliving their first day together. The day that Luke had declared “Prank Day.”

This is not how Alex pictured his summer going.

clocks move faster (it's all we're after) (Rated G) [Julie x Luke] by @willexxmercer

Summary: Julie likes it when her friends are happy, so when she realizes she’s stuck in a time loop, she uses her knowledge to make sure everything works out for everyone… except she conveniently forgets to factor herself (and Luke) into the mix.

Touch of Magic (Not Rated) [Alex x Luke] by @williexmercer

Summary: When everything stands in Luke and Alex’s way of getting to be with the people they love, they have to repeat the day over and over until they can get the happily ever after that they want.

the play's the thing (that goes wrong) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @madeline-kahn

Summary: Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day for Macbeth, but not so for Alex and the production of Hamlet that he is directing and starring in. And while he’s stuck repeating the day of the performance over and over, mishaps of all kinds befall the cast.

anything, anything (for another run with you) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @aroacethetic-shitpost

Summary: The moment Alex steps foot in Camp Greenwood, he knows that this summer is a bad idea.

He knows it as soon as he sees tan skin, long hair, and a tie-dyed crop top at the check-in table.

Willie.

the camp counselor/exes/prank war/time loop fic of your dreams (unless you read all of the other troped round 2 fics lmao)

there’s a glorious sunrise, dappled with the flickers of light (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @tonightthestarsalign

Summary: What comes next happens in slow motion. Luke’s foot catches on the last rung of the ladder. Julie watches as he stumbles a step forward, barely catching himself before falling on his face. The ladder clatters to the floor below. The trapdoor, no longer propped open by it, falls closed with a loud thunk, the lock clicking into place. They’re stuck.

“Luke!” she exclaims loudly. “Look what you did!” Julie drops to her knees in front of the trap door, desperately trying to fit her fingers between the wood and the stone to pry it open again. Of course it doesn’t work.

“What?” he snaps back. “I wouldn’t be up here in the first place if it weren’t for you trying to fuck us over.”

or: ex-best friends Luke and Julie, working as camp counselors at rivaling camps, find themselves stuck in a time loop

the daughter of apollo (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @the-most-beautiful-broom

Summary: (the JATP x Camp Half Blood AU that nobody asked for)

maybe the world isn't ending (maybe it's been postponed) (Rated G) [Julie x Luke] by @tmp-jatp

Summary: Alex runs his fingers through Willie’s hair. “I think it’s best to just leave them to their own prank war at this point. Let’s not forget that time Julie put hot sauce in the coffee pot and my mouth was on fire for an entire hour.”

“You’re exaggerating, Alex-”

“I most certainly am not,” Alex cuts Reggie off.

“Or how about the time Luke tried to put glitter in Julie’s bed,” Carrie joins in, “but got my bed instead? I can appreciate some glitter, but even I know when enough is enough.”

“Suffice it to say,” Willie finishes after they’ve passed around a dozen or so more memories of pranks from the summer, “we’re all done being your collateral damage. Whatever Julie has planned for you tomorrow, Luke, you’re on your own.”

It’s the last day of camp and Julie has one more prank planned for Luke. He just doesn’t know what it is.

Here We Go Again (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @kybee1497

Summary: Julie blinked as she stared at the place Euterpe had disappeared. What did that even mean? What journey? Old places and lost faces? What was she talking about? But before she could dwell on the questions swirling around in her mind, the sky full of stars began to move, shifting in place and descending until they were all around her. Julie felt her feet leave the ground as she rose up and up. One star in particular was burning brighter than the others, growing bigger in front of her.

It grew and grew, until the light was blinding and Julie had to throw a hand up against the harsh light. She closed her eyes as the light surrounded her and then she was falling. Falling down, down, down.

————

All the Winners can be found here.

We hope you enjoy these fics from our fabulous Fantoms! Make sure to leave kudos and comments to show them some love! And don’t forget, if you missed the initial writing deadline you can still submit your fics to our Non-Anon Collection at any time! Thank you all so much for participating this round! Now that winners and authors have been revealed feel free to post about your fics, create artwork for it, if you like, and don’t forget to tag us!

We hope you all will join us for Round 3! The prompt drops at Midnight tonight!

#troped: jatp #round 2: fluff #author reveal #jatp fanfiction

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mdawritings · 4 years ago

Text

Wanna Be Yours: Ch. 10

I.X

Masterlist

Warnings: None. But it is a long chapter.

Song(s): "killer + the sound" by Phoebe Bridgers & "illicit affairs" by Taylor Swift

"Just a reminder! Your final exam will be this Monday, proctored in this room, by me," Hotch paces at the front of the classroom, but your mind is elsewhere. You watch him, a smile growing on your face as he lectures the whole class. It’s finally your birthday, and Hotch set aside some time late in the day to spend with you. He also mentioned a small surprise and though you’re not usually one to get excited about gifts or surprises, you can’t wait to see what he has planned.

"Miss Y/L/N. Focus," Hotch calls out your name and you sit up straighter, attempting to suppress the grin on your face. "I won’t turn away anyone who shows up late for the exam, but you won’t be given the full time. Do I make myself clear? This exam starts at 11:00 sharp. I can promise you will need the full three hours to complete the whole thing. So I mean it. Don’t be late."

"That seems pretty relaxed for Professor Hard-Ass," Charlie leans forward to mumble into your ear and you bite your lip, suppressing a laugh. You want to tell him to thank you, since you’re the one who convinced Hotch that turning people away is cruel. At least let them try to finish the exam. A 50% is better than an actual zero.

Hotch shoots both you and Charlie a side glance which quickly shuts you up. You struggle to stifle small giggles and see Katie shaking her head off to the side, "You’re both children."

"You can’t be mean to me on my birthday," You protest under your breath, hoping Hotch doesn’t see you two goofing off. It’s your birthday and the last day of classes, he can ease up on you. He can cut the hard-ass, bullshit act for one class. It’s established that you’re not his favorite. Well, at least that’s what the class has been thoroughly convinced is the truth. You know, or at least you hope, the truth is the opposite. The semester has been a whirlwind from start to finish. Although you’re not quite at the end of it, you’ve been fundamentally changed since it started.

"Yeah? Watch me," Katie taunts, "Can’t let you get a big ego, Einstein."

"Assholes," You mutter under your breath, faking anger at your friends, but the large smile never leaves your face.

"I wish you all the best of luck. It was a pleasure to have all of you in this class," Hotch nods, putting down the chalk from the board where he’s written his contact information, "Reach out to me if you require anything like a recommendation letter. No promises I’ll do it though." He teases and flashes a cheeky smile to the whole class, "Class dismissed."

As you start to pack up your stuff, your attention flits over to Hotch a few times as a swarm of students begin to crowd around his desk, already shoving cover letters and resumes and job applications in his face. You shoot him a small apologetic look and mouth a ‘sorry’ before Katie and Charlie hook their arms in yours, pulling you to the door.

"We have a million things to do before the party tonight," Katie starts to ramble off the list of things she has planned. Katie, quite dissimilar to you, loves birthdays and planning parties.

"Party?" You glance at her, "I thought we were going to drink a little and then go out to a bar."

"When have we ever showed up to a bar sober?" Charlie rolls his eyes, "Alcohol is expensive. You’ll buy yourself a shot or something small for the significance. And you can buy the alcohol for the pre-party."

"I’m sorry, are you trying to get my stomach pumped tonight?" You laugh and before you even have a second to breathe Charlie pipes in with a ‘yes.’ to which Katie replies with a soft punch to his arm.

"So what time can we get together to organize everything?" Katie gives you a small knowing look, suspecting that you’ll probably disappear for an hour or two to see Hotch.

"Oh god, please don’t tell me you’re spending your birthday studying," Charlie lets out a strained groan, "It’s bad enough I have to meet with Professor Hard-Ass for missing one too many lectures."

"How is that my fault in any way at all?" You roll your eyes and turn back to Katie, "Let’s all meet at our apartment at like 7:30 pm? Gives us time to run errands, pick up liquor, eat some dinner, get ready and then start the party at 10."

"That works perfectly for me," Katie smiles, wrapping an arm tightly around your shoulders. "My little baby is all grown up," She mocks in a dramatic, teary, weepy tone and pretends to wipe tears from her eyes.

"I hate you all," You shake your head as your best friends drag you off to get lunch.

———————

You pull your knees up to your chest and thumb through the pages of the novel you’re currently reading. It’s not your favorite thing you’ve ever read, but it’s managing to maintain your attention for the time being. You’re sitting on the floor a few doors down from Hotch’s office, as you wait for him to get back from his last class of the day. You’ve managed to go all semester without drawing any suspicion or attention, the only person who’s seen through your guise of secrecy is Katie, but you know she would never tell or do anything to possibly endanger you or ruin this.

You hear his deep voice from the down the hall, your eyes shooting up as soon as it rings out. You attempt to play it off, but you can’t peel our eyes off of him. You already saw him this morning, but just the time you’ve spent waiting to see him again this afternoon has made you forget just how good he looks today.

His black polo shirt strains a little against his arm muscles as he carries his books and papers under his arm, a student trailing behind him as he walks down the hall towards his office. You can see the frustration written all over his face as the girl nags him over and over again. He manages to push past the hordes of people in the hallways, the girl occasionally getting lost in the swarms and needing to run to catch up to him.

You start to stand up from the floor but pause when you see her follow him all the way to his office door. "Listen, the grades you receive are final. End of discussion. You could’ve submitted any paper for a regrade, but that deadline was the end of classes. Which for your seminar, was yesterday."

"But—" She starts to speak up. You see him roll his eyes and turn his back on her, digging around in his pocket for his keys and unlocking the office door. He opens it and begins to step in, the girl eager to follow him. He whirls in place and blocks her from following him inside.

"Miss Hunter," His voice is steely and you slowly make your way to the office, still standing a good distance away as you watch the situation unfold in front of you. "I have made the rules abundantly clear. Now I have meetings with a few students who have actually managed to garner my respect. So please, stop wasting my time."

There’s a moment of silence. The girl tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, and you can tell she’s struggling not to cry in front of Hotch, and his harsh focus is unwavering. He just stares her down, waiting for her to leave. After a few seconds, her attempts to fight tears fail and she turns her back on him, rushing away down the hall before disappearing into the bathroom. You watch and turn back, Hotch finally taking note of you standing in the hallway. He shakes his head, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. The worry lines in his face leave creases in his skin even after he’s unfurrowed his brow.

You seem to have forgotten how cruel he can be. Every snide remark, snippy comment, insult he’s thrown at you, it’s clear that they’re part of this whole ruse. You try not to think too hard about the comments, but you wonder just how many of them he means or how many are all part of the act. His tongue is biting. He’s impatient and stubborn. He doesn’t play into social niceties. He sees no need to make others feel comfortable.

Hotch nods his head at you and walks back into his office, expecting you to come follow him. You push the interaction to the back of your mind before rushing to follow Hotch. You step into the doorway and see him, one hand on his hip, the other placed firmly on the edge of his desk. His eyes running over the papers he’s just placed down on the surface.

His head looks up, the corners of his mouth pulling at the sight of you. You barely pay attention to anything but him. You give the door a push to close it and drop your stuff onto one of the chairs, rushing to him with a wide smile.

You press your lips to his, kissing him slow but needy. You grip his shirt in your hands, attempting to press as close to him as possible.

His mouth is hot and heavy on yours but he pulls away for a second, those enchanting eyes of his sweeping over every inch of your body, "Happy birthday, pretty girl," He mumbles, one arm wrapped around your back, holding you close to him, the other hand reaching up to push the hair out of your face so he can really look at you.

He pauses. His eyes stay focused on you for awhile, memorizing the details of your face as if it's the first time he’s seeing it, or like it’ll be the last time he sees it. He studies the curve of your lips as if the memory of you will be all he gets.

He soon breaks the pseudo staring contest, pushing his chair out of the way and lifting you up onto his desk, so he can stand between your legs. You arch your back, pressing your plush breasts against his firm chest. You feel his muscles shift and flex under his shirt. He leans in closer to you, one hand tangled into your hair, the other placed firm on the desk next to your body.

His mouth is so warm against yours. You lose yourself in him. Nothing and no one manages to make you feel the way he does. He’s started a fire within you and every moment spent with him, every look, every touch, every smile is tinder for the flames. The fire of the two of you sucks the oxygen out of the room. You’re breathless around him. Who knew suffocating could feel so good?

There’s something innately beautiful about Aaron Hotchner. He’s sexy, he’s confident, but above all there’s something simply enchantingly beautiful about him. He does everything with such purpose, such ease, but those moments of beauty: the tug at the corners of his lips when you talk to him, the shine in his eyes when he gets to discussing something he’s passionate about. There’s no other way to describe him besides utterly beautiful. At least, that’s how you see him.

You wrap a hand around his bicep, gripping it tightly as his mouth travels down from your mouth to your neck, nipping at the skin. Your head falls back, your own mouth gaping open, soft whines erupting from your swollen lips. "I thought you said you were bad at giving gifts." You tease breathlessly. Aaron pulls away from your neck, looking at you with those warm, intelligent eyes, his lips equally plump. The confusion spreads across his features, "You." You mutter and cup his cheeks, "This. You’re enough of a gift. This time with you." You say softly.

An unreadable expression reaches Aaron’s face. As much as you try to understand the man, he remains mysterious and closed off to you. You worry that you’ve said something to offend him, or scare him away. It’s no secret you enjoy spending time with him. It’s no secret you care about him. You assume that much is clear to him. But then again, for as intelligent and perceptive as he seems to be, you wouldn’t be surprised if your admission comes as a shock to him.

Aaron’s hands move to trail up your bare thighs and up under your skirt, fingers hooking in the waistband of your lacy underwear. "I better make it a worthwhile gift then," He leans in, close enough that you think he will kiss you, but instead he rests his forehead against yours, his lips ghosting over your own. You lean forward to press your lips to his. You want to regain the feeling, the tingles it sends down your spine as his hands roam your body.

He evades your kiss, pulling away and bending down as he pulls your underwear all the way down your legs, tossing it off to the side. You smile and laugh at the action, glancing over at how your underwear has landed, draped across the arm of the chair in the corner.

"Something funny?" He grabs your chin, pulling your attention away from your discarded undergarment and back to him. His tone is serious, but the corners of his mouth are upturned in a slight grin.

"No, nothing at all," You tease and push him back into his chair, taking the opportunity to straddle his waist, grinding against him tauntingly.

"What’s this?" He raises his brows at the shift in power dynamic, but it’s clear he’s not complaining from the way his large hands rest just at the bottom of your ribcage, thumbs circling the skin just to the side of your breasts. The little gesture, the feeling of his fingers so close to where you want yet not quite touching you exactly there, drives you crazy. You lean forward, your hair falling in your face as you kiss him.

"Taking what I want," You moan against his skin. He peels the sweater from your body, your black tank top hugging tightly to every curve. He balls the sweater and tosses it over your shoulder onto the floor.

This time, you can’t suppress the loud laugh, "You going to do that with every article of clothing?"

"I just might," He taunts and pushes your hair out of your face with both hands once again, wanting to see your face. As he kisses you, you reach for his belt undoing it and unzipping his jeans, "You’re in a rush. Don’t you want to savor your birthday gift?"

You roll your eyes, "I’m pretty sure since it’s my birthday, I get to decide what I want." You smirk and plunge a hand deep into his briefs, pulling his hardening cock out of his pants. You take his hot flesh in your hands, pumping it a few times, trailing your fingertips over his tip, eliciting an absolutely sinful groan from him.

He throws his head back, and you watch with pride as the man begins to come undone in front of you. You watch as his neck tenses, his jaw clenching as you continue to pleasure him. His chest rises and falls rapidly. You stop your motions, pulling your skirt up a little, just enough for him to plunge deep into you. You sink onto him with a long and loud groan, gripping his shoulders for support. Your skirt falls down around the two of you, seemingly shielding your actions from the world.

Your actions are agonizingly slow, wanting to savor every moment with him, wanting this feeling to last forever. The pure bliss you feel as his head dips, pushing the collar of your tank top down enough to free your breasts. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly and lightly biting, just the way he knows sends your head into a haze. His hands rest on your hips, but they’re not gripping them, he’s letting you take it at your pace.

You’re so caught up in the lustful trance that you almost miss it. A knock at the door.

"Professor Hotchner?" A familiar voice calls from the other side.

You freeze. "Charlie?" You whisper at Hotch.

"Shit," He curses under his breath. "I’ve double booked myself." He shakes his head, trying to swiftly get you off his lap. "I’ll be with you in one minute!" He calls through the door, glancing down at his watch with a small groan.

Hotch tucks himself back into his pants, struggling to zip them up and tuck his shirt in in a timely manner. You scramble to do the same, readjusting your tank top and scooping your sweater from the ground. You run your fingers through your hair and wipe your mouth, knowing that you must look like a flustered, overheated mess.

Hotch gives you a small sideways glance before sitting at his desk more properly before nodding. "Come in." Just as the door opens and Charlie steps in, you realize you’ve forgotten something vitally important: your underwear. It’s too late. He’s already in the office and you have no idea how you can smoothly pluck your black lace panties from the chair without drawing his attention.

"Einstein?" He glances at you confused.

Your mouth falls open but you can’t seem to come up with anything to say, "Charlie." You smile. You glance at Hotch, "Sorry Professor, I didn’t realize you had meetings today." You stare at him a little too long, hoping he can suddenly read your mind in which you’re screaming at him about the underwear hanging off of the chair.

"Why didn’t you mention your meeting earlier?" Charlie asks you but Hotch clears his throat slightly, saving you from needing to come up with a reasonable answer.

"It was a last minute request on my part," Hotch covers for you two, "I apologize for running over time with Miss Y/L/N and into our meeting time."

"No, no I’ll just wait outside," Charlie turns to leave the office and your heart sinks into your stomach.

"No!" You call out a little too forcefully. But it’s too late. The black lace panties catch his eye.

"On second thought I’ll just…" Charlie turns to look at you, tightening his grip on the strap of his bag, glancing between both you and Hotch, "I’ll just leave you two…" He shakes his head and turns, getting out of the office as fast as possible. You groan frustratedly and look over at Hotch as you rush out after Charlie.

"Charlie wait!" You call out, garnering attention from the few students in the hallway. You catch up to him and grab his hand, "Please."

He turns to you, letting out a sickeningly sinister and bitter laugh, "I am such an idiot. I don’t know how I never saw it."

"Please let me explain myself," You beg him, pulling his hand into yours, but he’s quick to yank it away.

"You just had to be the person to get an A in his class, huh? You couldn’t handle the possibility of being anything less than the best." You wrap your arms around yourself as he shakes his head.

"No… that’s not what this is about." You argue back with him, hoping he’ll understand, the same way Katie seemed to.

"Is this how kid genius got to law school at 20? By sleeping your way to the top?" He lowers his voice so that anyone else in the hallway can’t hear you, but his words are just as venomous and biting.

He takes a few steps towards you, pointing back towards Hotch’s office, "He’s using you. You know that, right? He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t care about you. I can’t believe you’d be so fucking naive, so, so… so stupid."

You open your mouth to speak, but Hotch cuts you off, coming up behind the two of you, "I understand you’ll be discreet about what you saw, Mr. Miller."

Charlie’s eyes narrow at Hotch, his chest puffing up in anger. "And if I’m not?"

"You’ll find that it will greatly benefit you and your success in my class if you are." Hotch’s focus on Charlie is unwavering and the harsh demeanor that seems to be so natural and comfortable for Hotch returns. His voice is hushed, "Now I suggest you turn around and forget what you saw, or take this conversation somewhere more private, for everyone’s sake."

Charlie goes silent. His gaze shifts to you. You can’t read what his face is saying but it’s a mixture of disbelief, anger, and what seems to be disappointment. With a small scoff and shake of his head, Charlie turns and disappears down the hallway.

You take a step forward, hoping to go after him and explain yourself, explain everything, including your feelings for Hotch. You want him to know you haven’t done it to get ahead in life but because you genuinely enjoy spending time with Hotch. That you genuinely enjoy his company, but Hotch reaches and grabs your wrist, pulling you with him.

"You have to let me go after him! I have to talk to him. He could ruin your career," You let out frantically as Hotch pulls you by the arm back into his office, "Or my reputation."

"He won’t," Hotch gives you a small tug, causing you to catch your feet on the rug and trip a little as you get through the doorway of his office. He’s careful to move around you to close and lock the door firmly. He turns to you before turning back to the door, jiggling the handle a few times to test the lock, ensuring that there will be no more unwanted interruptions.

"Aaron, you can’t just give him a good grade to shut him up," You argue, "That’s- that’s immoral, that’s wrong." You bite your lip.

"And what we’ve been doing isn’t?" He rubs his face with both hands.

You have no response to that because he’s right. What the two of you have been doing for the past semester is immoral and unethical on every possible level. "How do you know he won’t report you anyway?"

"Because he cares about you," Hotch clarifies, but you find yourself lost. You’re not sure how that means Charlie will definitely keep his mouth shut, "He knows that reporting this will hurt you just as much as me, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. He’s in love with you, isn’t that obvious?"

You shake your head, still not entirely convinced that Hotch’s bribery will work on Charlie. "Aaron… You might lose your job. I can’t be the reason that you—" He places a soft slow kiss on your lips. "You know I hate when you kiss me just to shut me up."

He gives a warm smile, "Don’t worry about it. It’ll be okay, I promise." He rubs his thumb over your cheek comfortingly, "I have something to take your mind off it, off of him." He moves away from you, walking around his desk and opening the bottom drawer. He pulls out something but quickly hides it behind his back.

"Something for me?" You grin and try to look around his back to see what it is.

"It is your birthday, isn’t it?" Hotch holds out a small parcel, wrapped with brown paper, tied up with a small string, "I’m not uh— I’m not great at wrapping things. Or giving gifts." You take the package from him, the warm sensation of happiness spreading throughout your entire body.

"No matter what it is, I’ll love it because you gave it to me," You undo the string, and start to tear at the corner. You open the package delicately, as just the gesture of the wrapped parcel is enough for you. You didn’t expect anything from Hotch. Actually, you just expected birthday sex.

You peel back the paper and smile, feeling waves of emotion wash over you as you pull the nice, leather bound book from the wrapping. "You remembered?" You look up at him and a small sheepish grin spreads across Hotch’s face.

"Open it." He nods.

You look down at the book, running your fingers over the gold lettering on the cover that reads "The Great Gatsby." You open the cover flipping through the pages to see them all full of annotations, highlights and small notes. "Are these your annotations?"

He nods, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I gave it a second chance. Tried to look past my initial perception of it. Tried to see it through your eyes."

"And?" You struggle to tear your eyes away from the pages, looking for your favorite quotations, trying to read his notes alongside them.

"And I loved it." He reaches a hand and turns to the front page for you, where he’s written a small note. The note is barely legible in his scrawl, but to you it’s perfectly clear.

Y/N,

The beauty of life is in the grays. Thanks for being the gray in mine.

— A.H.

Your heart swells at the message and you close the book pressing it firmly to your chest. "This is… the best birthday gift I’ve ever gotten." You reassure him. "I wish I could celebrate with you all day."

He places his forefinger under your chin, tilting it up to place one last soft kiss to your lips, "Go. Have fun with your friends. Stay safe, okay?"

"I will," Your eyes stay on his. There’s so much you want to say to him. So much you want to ask him. You want to reveal everything to him. You want to tell him how much he means to you. You want to share how he’s changed your life. You want to tell him you don’t want to spend time with anyone but him. You want to tell him that you’re falling for him. But you stop yourself. You don’t want to rush it all out here standing in his office. You want to tell him in the right moment.

You’ve exposed so much of yourself to him, but to bear your soul in such a rushed manner in his office feels inappropriate and ill-timed. "I’ll see you again this weekend, yeah?" You ask him.

This time, you can tell he’s the one who wants to say more. There’s something bubbling under the surface that he wants to let out to you. You hope that what he is holding inside is the same as what you’re holding back. He hesitates a little before finally nodding.

You don’t want to pull away from him. You don’t want to move out of his grip, out of his warmth, it feels too much like a goodbye. You manage to pull away and grab your bag from the floor, keeping the book close to your heart as you turn and leave his office.

———————

You scan the room for what feels like the hundredth time within an hour, looking for the familiar face in the crowd of people.

"He’ll show up. I’m sure he will," Katie throws her arm around your shoulders, handing you another shot.

"No, K, I don’t think he will," You look around your crowded apartment, filled mostly with faces that you barely recognize from your classes, but there’s one person in particular who has yet to make an appearance: Charlie. You told Katie what had happened, and she was definitely shocked at Hotch’s reaction to the situation, but she hid it well enough, wrapping her arms tightly around your body to comfort you.

"He was so angry, so disappointed in me," You sigh and take a long sip of your beer, "He was so hurt."

"I understand his desire to protect you, I really do, I feel the same way," She nods and settles into the couch right next to you, "But at the end of the day, you are responsible for your own decisions and no one else has a right to tell you what you should and shouldn’t be doing with your life."

"I know," You rub your face, "But I don’t want to make decisions that hurt my best friends."

You worry that this signifies the loss of a friendship. The loss of one of the most important people in your life. A loss that you can withstand if Hotch remains in your life but even that is up in the air. You find yourself wondering whether you’ll be forced to choose: a continued relationship with Hotch, if you can even call it a relationship, or your friendship with Charlie.

"Please, don’t let stupid Charlie ruin what should be a super fun night," Katie pulls you up from your seat, reaching for a shot of her own, "To us, to our friendship, and to kid genius no longer being a kid." She teases and clinks her glass against yours, downing her shot. You mimic her actions, the alcohol sliding down a little bit too easily now that you’re indulging your sorrows.

The small get-together at your apartment only lasts a little while longer, just long enough to get everyone plenty tipsy before you all head out to a bar. You play drinking games and a few of your friends indulge you by taking shots with you, sharing drinks, pouring you drinks. Despite the fact that you’re entirely surrounded by people, you feel devoid of love tonight. Katie is pouring over you, hugging you, teasing, attempting to lighten your quickly souring mood, but Charlie probably isn’t coming at all and you can’t invite the person you want most to spend your birthday with.

Within another hour, the whole group has managed to get you drunk enough to forget about the pain in your chest everytime you think about Charlie. They drag you out of your apartment and you all start the long walk in the cold to the best bar in the city.

You look around the neighborhood, recognizing it as Hotch’s, and the pain in your heart comes back harder than ever. You wonder what he’s doing right now. You can picture him perfectly: hunched over his desk, scribbling away some illegible comments on a student’s paper. You can see yourself perched on the edge of his desk, telling him off for grading every student so harshly.

He would roll his eyes but place a comforting hand on your thigh, leaving it there while he works, occasionally squeezing lightly or rubbing circles into the skin. You flash the bouncer your real ID earning a round of cheers from your group of friends and a small smile from the big muscle man at the door, "Congrats kid." He teases, letting you all slip into the crowded bar.

"First round is on me! Everyone make sure Einstein doesn’t have to pay a dime for her own drinks tonight!" Katie cheers as she drags you to the bar for more drinks.

Everytime your mind wanders to either man, Hotch or Charlie, you finish a drink, take a shot, order a new one. Anything to distract you. You check your phone every few minutes, finally deciding to send Charlie a single text.

We’re at the bar now. If you decide to show up. Please come.

You get no response. You decide to pretend he probably hasn’t seen it. He’s asleep or studying. He’s busy. Something came up. That’s why he’s blown off your birthday. He’s one of your best friends. He’ll show.

Along with desperately checking your phone for a reply from Charlie, some part of you is hoping, praying, even, that Aaron will surprise you. You hope that he’ll come walking through the door, walk up to the bar, and buy you a birthday drink. He’ll ignore the fact that most of his students are present and do it for you, because it would make you happy. However, you know that he can’t. He can’t risk it.

So you keep drinking. A lot. You end up drinking a lot.

——

Hotch finishes off his comments on another student’s suboptimal essay, writing a large B in dark green ink at the top of the page before circling it. He rubs his hand over his forehead tiredly. As much as he attempts to direct all his focus on the work in front of him, he can’t stop thinking about you. It seems to be a common problem recently. You invade his every waking thought, hell, you’ve even seemed to invade his dreams as of late.

Everything reminds him of you. He looks over the collection of novels on the walls of his home office, wondering what your opinions of his favorite titles are. He wonders what books would draw your attention. He can picture you in here perfectly, telling him that he should be focused on his work when he can’t take his eyes off of you. You would tell him to focus but do just about a million things that he finds all together way too charming and endearing to ignore.

Your scent invades his mind. It’s utterly intoxicating. The way he can tell when you’ve freshly showered, your shampoo smelling of lavender and vanilla. He thinks about the way his fingers feel all tangled up in that hair of yours.

He thinks of how soft your skin is, in contrast with his rough calloused hands. He thinks about how beautiful you look when you’re focused on something. He wishes you were here with him. He wishes he could give you the birthday you deserve.

He wouldn’t let you leave his clutches all night. He’d keep you tangled up in the sheets of his bed, moaning, laughing, talking, smiling, whatever you wanted to do, he’d do it with you.

It’s a troubling position he’s in. He can’t say he’s ever felt this way about anyone before. He’s been a solitary man most of his life. He had friends throughout schooling, but he always much preferred his own company. He’s never wanted to be around someone as much as you.

You seem to comprehend exactly how his mind works. He questions whether you can truly read minds because you always manage to say exactly the right thing at the right time. He knows he’s gotten himself in too deep. He realized when he found himself speeding through the pages of the Great Gatsby, a novel he had never been fond of, purely because he was picturing the way your face would light up when he handed it to you.

He knows he’s getting too emotionally involved. It’s not a sustainable relationship.

His phone vibrates on the desk next to him and when he picks it up, he’s shocked to see your name on the screen. "Y/N?" He picks up, expecting a drunk dial.

"Professor Hotchner— Aaron," Katie’s voice rings through the phone, "I need… you need to come pick her up." Her words are slurred together.

"Kaitlin?" He asks confused, "Katie," He corrects himself, "Is she okay? What’s wrong?" He stands up grabbing his keys and wallet, shoving them into the pocket of his joggers, rushing to slip his sneakers on.

"She’s had too much to drink and I don’t think I can get her home myself." Katie sighs out and Hotch can faintly hear your voice on the other end, slurring and yelling something about letting Katie take your phone.

"What bar? I’ll be there as fast as I can," Hotch takes note of the address, which, thankfully, is just two blocks away from his apartment. "Get her water. Get her outside into the fresh air. If she gets really bad, don’t hesitate to call 911." He hangs up the phone. What he really wants to do is scold Katie for letting you drink so wildly. Just because it’s your 21st birthday, doesn’t mean that you need to drink yourself to death. At the same time, he feels the deep sting of guilt, knowing that your strained relationship with Charlie probably encouraged more drinking than usual.

He makes his walking pace brisk, rushing the two blocks to get to you. He feels responsible for letting this happen to you. It’s not as if he could’ve been at the bar with you, it would’ve drawn an intense amount of scrutiny and suspicion, but he could've made plans with you, told you to ditch your friends for him.

As soon as Katie catches sight of him from down the street, she struggles to hold you up, trying to walk you over to him, "I’m sorry to call you, I hope I didn’t wake you up, Professor, I just didn’t know who else to call for help. Everyone else is equally drunk and normally I’d trust Charlie with her but—" She glances down at you, as you clutch at her shoulders for support, eyelids half closed, "He isn’t here to help."

"Fuck Charlie. I mean I don’t want to fuck Charlie, I mean like fuck him for not coming," You slur slightly and Katie hoists you up, holding you out for Hotch to help keep you steady.

"No I’m glad you called," Hotch replies with a nod. Katie’s focus lingers on him for a while and he can sense the judgment behind her eyes. She wants to say something to him. The drinking has lowered her inhibitions and he’s sure that as your best friend she probably has a few choice words for him. But right now, he can't take the time to listen to her or even argue with her. Right now, he just wants to get you to his home and get you to safety.

"Take care of her, okay?" Katie finally lets out before digging around in her purse for a pen and grabbing Hotch’s hand. She scribbles her number, a little messily due to her elevated blood alcohol level but legible enough, "Call me if anything happens to her."

Hotch nods, "I will." He turns all his attention onto you and starts to walk you back towards his apartment, knowing that the 5 minutes it took him to jog to the bar will turn into a 10 minute endeavor, carrying you to his apartment.

"I’m sorry, Aaron," You mumble into his shoulder, "I shouldn’t have drank so much I just…"

Hotch shushes you softly, rubbing his hands on your upper arm as he holds your trembling shoulders. "You should’ve brought a jacket." Your foot catches on the pavement, and for a second, it looks as if your face is going to collide with the sidewalk, but Hotch’s grip is so tight that he keeps you from falling.

"Didn’t go with the outfit." You laugh and weakly gesture over your body with your hand.

Seeing you like this, it stirs something inside him. Anger and frustration build like wildfire deep in the pit of his stomach. How could you act so irresponsibly? How could your friends be so careless with you? If he was out with you on your birthday, you never would’ve gotten so dangerously drunk.

"My apartment isn’t far from here, remember?" He’s practically holding up your entire body weight at this point.

"I remember," You nod, "Charlie, he didn’t come."

"I know." He slows down your walking pace as you struggle to keep up, your feet dragging along the ground, "Katie told me."

"Katie is mad at you, you know?" You regain a bit of your balance and strength, walking on your own, but hardly walking in a straight line. "I’m not mad at you. She’s just worried about me. I guess Charlie is worried about me, but he sure has a silly way of showing it, right?"

"It’s important to have people that care about you like they do," He’s choosing his words diplomatically, knowing that he can’t let on how much he’s been thinking about you, how much it angers him to see you so dangerously drunk. He’s not sure why he’s so careful of his words choice, as if you will remember his exact wording tomorrow.

After an eternity of practically carrying you for two blocks, you reach the steps of Hotch’s apartment. The steps are a complete other task. In which Hotch is tempted multiple times to simply pick you up entirely and carry you upstairs, but he worries that will just make you sick and the last thing he wants to do is clean your vomit off of his apartment building’s staircase.

"I’m sorry you have to take care of me," You whine, holding onto his shirt as he helps you into his apartment. "But I’m 21!"

"I know," Hotch’s heart races as you stumble along in your heels. It’s terrifying to see you like this. He realizes just how fragile you are, how easily you can slip through his fingers.

It should make him want to sink his fingers into you, dig his heels into the ground, hold you close and never let you go, but he’s motivated to do the opposite. He wants to run and hide from you. If he sinks himself too deep into you, he can never get out and if he loses you once he’s in too deep, what will happen when you get hurt? What happens when he’s the one to hurt you?

He’ll inevitably disappoint you. He knows you expect a lot from him. He can see it in the way you look at him, with those warm, intelligent eyes, so full of adoration.

"You think you can get yourself up the stairs to bed while I get you water?" Hotch walks you carefully to the bottom of the stairs. You nod, reaching for the wall next to the stairs, to help balance.

Hotch watches you with a close eye, making sure that you make it all the way up before going to the kitchen. He reaches up into the cabinet for a glass and some ibuprofen that you will inevitably need by tomorrow.

He puts both down on the counter, taking a minute to place both palms on the surface firmly, taking a deep, steadying breath. It’s almost the end of the semester. After Monday, he’s no longer your professor. That should be a relief. He doesn’t have to feel this internal conflict. The morality of his actions has never concerned him before. That was before you.

When he’s with you, he’s more conscious of the imbalance of power. He’s aware of what it looks like from the outside. The way Charlie looked at the two of you today was confirmation of that. Confirmation of the perception that he used to never care so much about until he met you. Reducing you to just another student fling feels wrong. But that’s what you are, right? There's been no confession of feelings, no grand gestures, no romantic dates or picture-perfect movie moments.

Despite the lack of relationship structure, everything with you feels different. It feels so intensely genuine. That’s the only way Hotch knows how to describe it to himself. Being with you makes him feel alive.

But if being with you is living, why does he feel this growing dread in the pit of the stomach as he walks up the stairs? He steps into his bedroom expecting to see you draped across his bed or struggling with the zipper on your dress, but he doesn’t see you anywhere, "Einstein?" He calls and then he sees the light coming from under the bathroom door and the distinct sounds of you sick in the bathroom.

He pushes open the door to see your arms on the toilet, your face hovering over the bowl. He lets out a small breath, bending down to your level so he can pull your hair out of your face. He pulls the hair tie off your wrist and messily ties your hair into the best ponytail he can manage. You groan in pain and he rubs your back gently. "Shh, you’re okay. I’ve got you," He presses a small kiss to your temple.

"I don’t want to have to choose," You let out a strangled cry and a small hiccup, lying your head on your forearms on the seat of the toilet. Hotch’s heart sinks at your words, "I can’t choose between falling for you and keeping my friendships."

"You won’t have to," He gets to his feet, reaching for a washcloth and dampening it in the sink. He bends back down to your level, gently lifting your head from your forearms, wiping your face and mouth, "Let’s get you up off the floor, okay?"

"Make the world stop spinning, please," You hold your arms up so he can lift you off the floor.

He sits you down on the edge of the bed, bending down to unzip your heels, placing them on the floor.

"He didn’t come. He’s my best friend and he didn’t come to my birthday," You chew at the skin on your lip, holding back tears, not wanting to turn into a weepy drunk. Especially in front of Hotch. He reaches around unzipping your dress, helping you out of it.

"I’m sorry," The apology is soft but Hotch knows it's partially his fault Charlie never showed. You’re right, you shouldn’t have to choose between him and your friends. He can already tell the way you’re pushing them away for time with him.

He helps pull one of his shirts over your head and pulls back the covers for you to crawl into his bed. "Please hold me," You mutter softly, "At least until the room stops spinning." Looking down at you, the way your eyes are threatening to spill over with tears, the mascara smudged, your hair tied back messily, pieces falling out of the ponytail, you look so helpless, so pure, so innocent and loving. He can’t stop himself from nodding and sitting next to you on the bed. He puts his arm behind your head, wrapping it around your shoulders.

"I don’t want to lose him to keep you," You lay your head against Hotch’s chest, gripping at his shirt tightly. Your tears fall against his dark green shirt, leaving small wet splotches. "I can’t let you go." You sniffle and shut your eyes in an attempt to get some rest and ease the sick feeling in your stomach.

"You won’t lose him." He shushes and gently plays with the ends of your hair, wrapping his other arm around the front of you, holding you tight against him. Your sniffles start to die down as you drift off to sleep, Hotch listening closely to your steady breathing.

He knows he’s not being fair with you. Every affair, every relationship he’s had, has been so simple, so uncomplicated. The semester is coming to an end soon and he knows exactly what he has to do. But sitting here staring down at you, the way your face is scrunched up in your sleep. He doesn’t want to let you go. It’s not just your body, it’s not the sex. It’s your biting wit, your intelligence, your humor.

It’s not how you look. It’s not the way that he knows your body better than he knows himself. It’s your heart and mind that captivate him. He’s so used to being and feeling alone, but you always make sure he never feels that way. It’s not in the obvious things. It’s in the subtleties. It’s in the small smiles you give him in passing. It’s in the way you always ask him about his day. It’s in your reassuring eye contact. When he speaks, he knows you’re listening. And you’re not just listening when he’s teaching or tutoring or sharing new information, you’re listening when he talks about himself.

Like today in his office. There was a palpable difference in the energy between you two. He knows that gift was personal, but he wanted to give it to you, and the way your face lit up when he did, tells him it was worth it. He wants to be selfish and hold onto you forever. He wants to spend every minute with you, but he knows that the more he draws you to him, the more he draws you away from your friends, from the world, from everything you want to achieve in life.

And that’s why, staring down at your sleeping form, he knows this must end.

Chapter 11: I.XI →

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #wanna be yours fanfic #hotch #hotchner #hotch x reader

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stardancerluv · 4 years ago

Text

When You Take Care of Each Other

Part One of Three: You had a crappy day...started bad...but Roman helped end it much better.

Arthor’s Note: Roman taking care if his girl after her bad day. Wanted to show he could be tender. In the next one you will see how she takes care of him. In third one you will what happens when their moods clash and they are both are in bad places. All the pieces will have moments will have sex. This one was more intimate.

Warning: depressed feelings, angst, softdaddy!kink, fingering, kissing & mentioning of male arousal.

Sometimes, you would come back to the penthouse and you would be so tired, you would just climb into bed and cry. Sure your world had gotten much better for since you became Roman’s girl but stress and deadlines had not ceased to exist.

Today was one of those days, where your stress consumed you. After leaving the elevator, you had managed to stop and pull off your shoes, your coat. Life was feeling particularly heavy that day.

You continued down the hall. You didn’t pop your head into Roman’s office to see if he was there or let him know you were home. You just kept on shuffling to the bedroom, the two of you shared.

You shed the last of your clothes. Without a stitch on, you walked into the bathroom. A quick shiver overcame you when your feet touched the cold dark marble. You managed to place a towel and your robe near the warmer. Then you drew yourself a bath.

You were so raw from your day that you didn’t have the energy to put soap or even relaxing bath salts into the water. Sitting on the edge of the tub, you turning the knobs you turned off the water. Reaching up, you unpinned your hair then stepping in, you sighed. Drawing your knees close to your chest and wrapping your arms around them, laying your head down you let yourself begin to relax.

Tears filled and fell from your tired eyes. Soft ragged breathes came from you. As you continued to rest your cheek on your knee your sadness and your frustration finally began to melt away. Though a sense of tiredness and feelings of being worn out remained. Some sleep and perhaps a drink later would help.

It was times like this that you would shy away from Roman. You never wanted to be the one who would bring a dark, gray cloud over him. His struggle with his own demons were dark and bad enough.

Since becoming an item an interesting development unraveled. There were times when you felt like this and he’d not be far from his own darkness. The two of you would spiral into a cyclone of drinking and dark almost angry lustful hours, on occasion It would last a few days But that was rare. Those were the days, when you would be closest to the darker side of how he maintained his power. His mask, his knives and you’d completely submit to him and his whims. Eventually, you both would emerge with clearer hearts and minds.

There were other times when he would pull you and free you from your darkness. When he did, he always had uncanny ability to know just what you needed.

Mostly, you were not ruffled by the tribulations of life. You wouldn’t allow any of them to take a hold. In those days, you pulled Roman free.

Right now however, all you wanted to do was sleep.

*******

Roman was on the phone with Falcone when he saw a shadow lurch by his door.

“Listen, I have to go.”

He knew by how that shadow moved, you were not having a good day. Shedding his suit jacket, he left it at his desk and he headed down to the kitchen. On the way there, he straightened your shoes and the belt on your coat.

Once in the kitchen, he grabbed the sweets he had bought earlier for the two of you to enjoy. Now was a good as time as any.

When he arrived in the bedroom he didn’t smell the sweet oils or calming bath salts either of you would buy so he that told him just how much you needed him. Taking off his shoes, he peered into the bathroom and saw you huddled in the water. “Aw, baby.” He said softly.

You barely looked over. Going over to you he knelt near you and gently ran his hand on your back.

“Did you have a bad day?” He cooed softly.

You nodded. He continued rub your back, he could feel you relax under his touch. “Would you like daddy to take care of you?”

“Yes.” You finally managed to say.

“Ok, good.” He hated seeing you like this.

Before you, Victor would try and help him but would only tell him what he thought he wanted to hear. Sometimes, that made his darker moments longer.

You were the only one who made them really see them for what they were and try to get him out of them. So when he could help you and he was in a good enough place, he liked doing it.

Getting up, he went over to the towel warmer. At least you had done that for yourself, he mused. He brought over your towel and robe. He put the robe down. “Alright, lets get you out of there before you get all wrinkly.”

He helped you out, reached down he pulled the stopper. After wrapping the the towel around your curvy frame, his arms wrapped around you, holding the towel in place.

You stiffened, though he knew it was because of your mood. It was some moments but eventually you softened. Tossing the towel away, he then with your help, you slipped your robe on. It was your big fluffy one. He knotted it just so. As he looked you up and down, he was reminded of how you looked especially cute in it.

He drew your face up, you fought him a little and your kept your eyes down cast. “Baby, if you were feeling this down you could have grabbed daddy’s. I know how much you like disappearing in it.” He tried to catch your eye.

You lip quivered. “I didn’t want to get it wet from my bath.” You said in a small voice.

His thumb caressed your chin. “Next time grab it. Daddy wants you to feel loved and cared for, he knows you get alot of comfort from it.”

“Ok.” You replied.

“My beautiful sad girl, we have to make her feel better.” Very easily then, he picked you up, after short hesitation he felt as you wrapped your arms around him. He smiled as he felt you nestle in close and melt against him.

Walking back out to the bedroom, kneeling on the bed he placed you in the middle of it. Leaving, you only a moment, he went and dimmed the lights.

Returning to you, he laid on his side beside you. “Baby, do you want to tell me what made your day bad?”

You turned your head to look at him. “Was just a...a bad day.” You sighed.

He nodded. “Ok. Sometimes, those can be the worst.”

You nodded and looked away again, as you did for a little while he just rested his forehead on your shoulder closest to him. Deeply he inhaled you and the sweet scents that lingered on the robe.

A little later, he tested the waters to see how you were feelings. He pressed some soft kisses on you. When you didn’t resist or tell him no he continued.

Reaching down he gently undid the belt. Slowly, he let his hand slip under the soft warmth of it. He caressed your stomach and your hip. He heard and felt as you inhaled.

Moving his hand higher, he cupped one of your breasts. With his hand he nudged the robe away, in doing so he saw that even though he had barely began to touch you, that you were as taunt as a little bud.

He rose an eyebrow and looked at you. “Is baby, already happy with daddy wanting you to feel better?”

“Yes, please daddy don’t stop.”

He smiled gently. “I couldn’t even imagine stopping.” Roman let his hand move just so between your breasts. He loved how your curves and softness were just open for him. His lips and tongue followed his fingers.

He could feel as your heart had begun to pick up speed, it made his lips curl into a smile as he continued to kiss and touch you.

As your breathing grew shallower, he looked up and saw how good you felt with how your face was awash with pleasure it made him happy. It looked like whatever had bothered you was finally diminishing.

He inwardly groaned with his own pleasure as he felt one of your hands find him, as your hand rested on him outside his slacks, he stopped your hand as moved to his belt. “Baby,“ He said softly. “No, no right now is about you.” He brought your hand back to where it was. “But if you want to keep your hand there you can but that’s all I will allow right now.”

He bit back the chuckle of the small pout that had formed on your lips. “You can help me feel better later. But not right now.”

He knew you would make him feel amazing but right now it was your time. He could wait. Not always but right now he could.

The pout vanished as his hand cupped you, your softest spot. “I love that you share this with daddy.” He squeezed it gently, letting his fingers begin to caress you. “So wet and welcoming, such good girl.” He said softly by your ear, he kissed your throat there and even nibbled a little. Loving that as he did so, he pulled such passionate sounds from you.

“Daddy hates seeing you so sad. He is glad you are beginning to feel better.” A deep sound from his chest came as your hand moved on him. “Baby,” he couldn’t swallow down the one sound, it felt too good. “Focus on what I’m doing, this is your time.” He cooed, he nuzzled at you again quickening his pace.

As he did he smiled. He felt yourself abandon yourself to what he was doing. Soon, the robe hung from you as your arched and writhed. Right now was not the time for you to ask and he was glad you knew. Distantly, he knew in the end it would be too much to count. Yet, he would continue to touch and caress you.

“Daddy, daddy” you said later, breathless. Your eyes were vibrant and clear, when they met his. “Please...please.”

“Please, what?” He quickened him fingers.

“I can’t...I can’t what?”

“Cum sweetly for me one more time?” He asked eyebrows raised.

“Yes, I will be a mess, I’ve already cum so much.”

He smiled and drew closer, his lips brushed yours as he spoke. “One more then.” He slowed his fingers now. Your lips found his and the two of you finally shared a kiss but your broke it as you arched sharply as he made you came a final time. You were breathless as you looked at him. He let you watch as he licked his fingers clean of your soft delicate tangy self.

He finally let his fingers leave you. “Feel good baby?”

“Yes.” Your eyes were heavy from it.

“Good, now sleep.” Gently he held your hand against him still very hard in his slacks. “Maybe later you can make daddy feel good too.”

A soft groan came from you. “I would like that.” You whispered.

You moved and gave him a kiss before curling into his side. He held you there as he let his arm wrap around and hold you there. Despite being so out of breath, it soon evened out and he knew you had fallen asleep. Eyeing the clock on the nightstand behind you, he smiled. Enough time before the club opened. He closed eyes, letting himself drift off.

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stxrrywildflower · 4 years ago

Text

black and white

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - “fumbling for your keys and i kissed you”

warnings - none

word count - ?

note - based off of a lyric from ‘black and white’ by niall horan

when spencer first asked you out on a date, you were more than happy to go.

the two of you had met at a coffee shop in the city. the cafe was pretty hidden, having a few regular customers including yourself and spencer. you loved it for many reasons including the owners, late hours, and general atmosphere.

it was close to eleven at night. you had a deadline in just a few hours and you needed to finish it up. your home had become suffocating and all you needed to do was get out of the house.

the owners had greeted you with a warm smile as you walked in. you placed your bag and laptop down, heading over to the counter to order something to drink. you say back down, opening your computer to do some work.

there was only a total of four people in the shop; you, the two owners, and then a man sitting in the corner. he looked to be about your age, having brown curly hair, a pair of glasses perched on his nose and wearing a simple sweater. various folders were strewn across the table. you couldn’t quite make out what was in them but the man was scribbling away.

a cup of coffee was placed down at your table. you quickly thanked the person who put it down, taking a sip of the steaming hot beverage. the two owners soon headed to the back, promising to be back to lock up or if another customer came in. they had both been very vocal about not rushing and you and the other man being able to stay.

the shop was almost dead silent, the only sounds being you typing on your keyboard and pen writing on paper. your coffee was almost finished, having all but chugged it once it was given to you. thankfully, it had provided all the energy you needed.

it didn’t take you long to finish, being somewhere other than your house helped and insane amount. you just needed to submit it to your boss and you were done.

“late night?” spencer’s head shot up when he heard your voice.

you were out of your seat, by the counter to put your now empty cup down. spencer nodded, “i’m finally home for a weekend so i need to catch up on some work.”

“you travel often?” you couldn’t help but ask more questions.

“yeah, only because of my job. i’m not in the city nearly as much as i would like too.”

the two of you realized you hadn’t even done proper introductions and here you were, already talking about work. “i’m spencer,” the man introduced. you smiled, “y/n.”

from that night on, the two of you became friends. it was the second time you saw each other at the same coffee shop that you exchanged your numbers. he told you about his job on that day too, explaining just what he meant with not being in the city.

two months later, spencer finally worked up the courage to ask you out. you said yes, of course, your first date being downtown at a film festival in one of the many parks. you brought a picnic basket, full of snacks and drinks for the two of you. spencer, on the other hand, brought blankets and one of his sweatshirts incase you got cold.

when the final movie ended, you both stood up, stretching as you had been sitting in seats for the past few hours. halfway though, you did in fact accept the sweatshirt. it was slightly big on you, the sleeves falling past your wrists.

despite it being in the complete opposite direction of his own, spencer offered to walk you back to your apartment. you accepted, not exactly wanting the date to be over just yet. right as you two gathered up the final things and started walking out, spencer’s phone rang.

the profiler shot you a sympathetic look before digging in his pocket and pulling out his phone. “hey...you’re kidding...i’ll be there in five,” spencer’s responses were pretty curt, directly due to his slight annoyance.

“work?” you asked.

“yeah, pretty bad case in arizona. everyone’s meeting at the airport,” spencer explained.

“alright stay safe,” you spoke, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. the gesture obviously took spencer by surprise as his lips parted slightly and his hand moving up to touch the spot where your lips had been, a faint blush adoring his cheeks.

you started walking away, leaving the genius after one final wave. “wait!” spencer’s shout caused to spin around. “can we do this again?” you could almost hear the nervousness radiating off of him as he asked you this.

“of course, i’m going to have to return this to you at some point,” you beamed, motioning to the sweatshirt you were still wearing. spencer chuckled, saying a goodbye to you before spinning around to head to his car.

your next date wasn’t for close to three weeks after that. between your work and spencer traveling all over, neither of you had nearly enough free time to do anything.

however, after you both were promised weekends off by your individual bosses, spencer had sent you a text asking you to go to dinner that night. it was a more casual place, you dressing down for that reason.

spencer was right on time, getting out of the car to open the passengers side. you thanked him, blushing slightly at the seemingly small gesture. “ready to go?” he asked. you nodded, “ready.”

dinner may have been some of the best food you had ever had. spencer seemed extremely pleased by that statement, promising to take you there more often.

it was dark out by the time you arrived at the townhome you lived in. you walked up the sidewalk first, spencer right behind you. the porch light was on, having been activated by a time.

of course your keys were somehow at the bottom of your bag. spencer leaned against the wall, slightly amused at you struggling. “they’re in here somewhere i swear.”

just as you placed your bag on one of the chairs, spencer stepped forward, holding your chin with his hand, leaning in to press his lips to yours. obviously, the kiss wasn’t exactly expected, not that you really minded.

your back hit your door with a soft thud, your hands now resting on his chest. spencer pulled away first only to kiss the corner of your mouth. this time, you kissed him, not ever wanting the moment to end.

both of you were breathless, your foreheads pressed together as spencer let out a hum of content. you matching it, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips

“i can easily say, best date ever,” spencer stated, the same grin on your face finding its way to his.

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @tinylumpiaa @rumplebutterbitch @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @the-quarantine-diaries @ah-blossom @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @aperrywilliams @kissessforharryyy @garcias-batcave @reidswords @etherealgubler @spenceneedsahug @jjandreidsgirl @zoseph @spencerreidxoxo

#criminal #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi #penelope garcia

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tansypoisoning · 4 years ago

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Tansy’s Spooky Challenge

Because the World is terrifying :D

To celebrate this milestone (1k followers :O) I’m starting a challenge which hopefully will give back to this community in terms of exposure of less known authors (or just authors that aren’t known by my followers) and in creating more stories. I’m so thankful for all the attention I’ve been given, and I hope to give you guys my attention as well.

I love writing challenges because they give authors motivation to write (sometimes even things out of their comfort zone), because they’re a great way for writer’s to promote themselves, and because it’s a great way for the person hosting it to find more stories and authors they could end up being big fans of :D I especially encourage people with less followers, or whose works I haven’t read to participate.

The main objective of this challenge is to write something that has an element of horror in it. It can range from a situation that seemed scary but is okay, to something that is a little eerie, to pure unadulterated terror. As for rules:

You DON’T have to be following me to participate.

You have to enter with a reader insert/OC fic. There doesn’t have to be any smut or shipping, and if there is, the relationship DOESN’T HAVE to be about dark!character or dark!reader.

I’ll read works for any fandom, but the ones I’m most familiar with are Marvel, Overwatch, Snowpiercer, Knives Out, Naruto, Avatar:The Legend of Aang

You can submit drabbles, one-shots, or an entry of a serialized story.

A single prompt CAN be used by more than a single person.

The fanfics can be of any length, but if they’re on the longer side, please try putting a ‘Read More’ in there somewhere to avoid making things difficult for people reading on phones.

Things that are not allowed in terms of content: underage sex, bestiality, graphic child abuse (allusions are ok) I don’t think anyone would submit an entry that I would have reservations reblogging, but if in doubt you can ask me for help. Give warnings for any sensitive topic you bring up.

Tag your fic with “TansySpookyChallenge2020”

Send me an ask or dm telling me you posted it, preferably a dm. Asks can get eaten by the inbox, and tagging doesn’t always work.

Deadline is November 24th. You can DM for extensions

PROMPTS BELOW

Choose one item from each list and work them into a story. I allow and encourage trying to game the system with multiple interpretations of a term, less literal readings, or wordplay.

List 1

Happiness

Jealousy

Nostalgia

Desperation

Fury

Triumph

Sadness

Acceptance

Fervor

Disgust

Awe

Confusion

Hope

Craving

Foreboding

Denial

Loss

Ennui

Adoration

Sympathy

Pain

Betrayal

Commiseration

Anxiety

Rancor

Determination

List 2

Sink or swim

Chokecherry

Crossroads

“Let me see what you have.” “A knife!”

French vanilla

Something forgotten long ago

The shore

The eye of the storm

Bathtub

Corn hell

Down by the river

Baby’s breath

A little fire

An old saloon

Unearthed bones

On the move

Before dawn

Dead men walking

By candlelight

Frankenstein

Prima Donna

A hill about a mile outta town

First dance

Ritual

Underground

A small request

These text prompts can be used however you want: whether you want to have them in your story in their entirety, use bits, write something around them, something inspired by them, or just something you think has a similar feel. Just let me know which you picked.

There is a Corvette parked in front of the building, just by the front door. You approach the vehicle as if compelled by an invisible force and look in through the closed window. There’s none inside, but you see, in the driver's seat, illuminated by the neon lights of the bar, a white cowboy hat with a golden band. This isn’t the first time you see this hat.

The hole is no more than eight feet long and three feet wide. You peer in deeper, but you can’t see the bottom. There’s a soft but grating sound coming from somewhere within, like sharp nails raking against a metal plate. You can’t see the bottom, but you think you can see movement inside.

You abandon the warmth of the laundromat for the biting cold of the outside world. To your right, the road extends for miles and miles into the night, as it does to your left. There’s no place for you to go, but you can’t go back inside.

The light of the neon sign proudly displaying “Rising Sun Motel” shines through your door. You had closed and locked it before taking your shower – you know you had, because you do it in every room you rent. You take a cursory glance of your surroundings. Nothing is out of place or missing. Must be a faulty lock. The night is windy and could have pushed the cheap door open. You go to lock it again, and when you turn around you see that the closet door is slightly ajar.

The land is flat as far as the eye can see and identical houses with identically manicured lawns sprout from it as far as the eye can see. You run up and then down the street (or is it down and then up?) but you can’t seem to find anything else. The people look so friendly when they smile and wave as they pass you by, but you don’t ask them for directions. You look at your phone. You have signal, but all you can get your internet to show you are advertising for washing machines and sites with recipes for awful things preserved in aspic. The date and hour on your home screen keep changing. You’re positive you’ve been in this place for hours, but the sun won’t set.

“B-but… I don’t understand...” “We have checked the security footage three times and found nothing. There are also no signs of forced entries. No fingerprints.” “-My phone! I took pictures, I know I took-!” “We found nothing on your phone, in the SD card, or in the Cloud. There’s nothing.” “That’s impossible!” “We searched as much as we could. I’m sorry, but… are you sure-” “I know what I saw! I know it! Look again!” You aren’t imagining things. It couldn't have been your mind. It couldn't, it couldn’t, it couldn't

What kind of convenience store has taxidermy heads for decoration? You ask yourself as you roam the aisles of the near empty shop. You peek from behind a row of shelves to one side and spot the clerk. He’s old and severe looking, and although his pupils are pointed in your direction, you get the distinct feeling he’s looking right through you. You move your head to the other side of the shelves and spot another one of those fucking deer heads. This one’s large, wet eyes are turned to a fixture in the ceiling, but you would swear it’s watching you.

Rain pelts you as you stand at the dock, waiting. You hope your boat will arrive soon. You look over your shoulder into the mist and see nothing that should give you pause, but your leg still won’t stop shaking. You touch your arm by reflex and wince when you brush your cut. You think your makeshift tourniquet is working, but it looks fragile, like it could get dismantled at any second. In this weather, you’re sure is just a matter of time. You look over your shoulder again. Still nothing, but you fear it won’t last. You hope your boat will arrive soon.

The living room is dark, but you don’t turn on the lights. You are still too close. You move to the kitchen, and there you feel safe enough to reach for the switch. The illuminated room, much larger than it needed to be, is a ghastly land of contrasts. The many counters and their many marble tops are covered in trash. The tile floors, formerly clean enough to eat out of, are now muddied, not a single spot spared. The eyes of the two stoves are covered by pans and pots boiling foul mixtures. Through the window you can see the sprawling lawn and walls of hedges. They will hide you, but for how long? There is something waiting for you in the hallway, something terrible. You have to address it before sunrise, but for now you’ll wait here. The kitchen isn’t half as bad as the rest of the house.

‘The Bystander Effect’ is the term used to describe the phenomenon in which people don’t intervene in emergency situations when in a group, and, the larger the group, the less likely they are to intervene. You know this to be true, even without doing any research, as you hobble your way through the maze of alleyways. Your cries for help had gone unanswered, bouncing off the concrete walls into a multitude of uncaring ears. It’s just how it is in the big city – every man for himself, and the devil take the hindmost. So much for safety in numbers. The truth is, in this city, surrounded by all these people, you’re more alone than you’d ever been.

You take the first step with care, mindful of all the ice. The second is a little clumsier. On the third you almost slip. You skip the fourth and fall on the fifth, rolling down the stairs and landing face first in the snow. You scramble to get back to your feet and run to your car. You have to get home. You lock yourself in and don’t bother with the safety belt. You shove the key in the ignition and turn and turn but nothing happens. Did you leave it in the cold too long, or- There’s no time to think about it. You step out of the car and start running, into the freezing night. You have to get home, you have to get home now.

Cleanup time is always a hassle. You wish you didn’t have to do it, but it wouldn’t be fair to leave the mess all to your partner. You two near the open trunk of the car and load the heavy cargo into it. Your companion seems the most affected by the weight, and you offer an apologetic smile. Fair is fair though; it was your turn to carry the feet end.

Skinny dipping had seemed like a good idea when your friend suggested it earlier, under the sweltering sun. Now, standing in front of the pool in your bathing suit, all by your lonesome, you start to regret having agreed to her scheme. Wasn’t she supposed to have arrived forty minutes ago? She said she’d bring people too, because skinny dipping alone isn’t fun. Well, now you are all alone in the cold, and you suspect that is even less fun. Just as you make up your mind to leave, you see a car through the chain link fence. It pulls up just before the gate and the engine turns off. That must be them.

#TansySpookyChallenge2020

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hermionemonica · 4 years ago

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The Road to Us, and Everything in Between: Chapter 2

(This is a no magic AU. There is no existence of the Miraculous or the superheroes in this universe.)

AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

As time went on, Marinette felt distances creeping between her and Nathaniel. They still talked to each other over calls, texting and social media, and even met up with each other every once in a while. But all that grew more and more seldom. And for Marinette, this felt different. Of course, her affections for Nathaniel still remained unchanged, but it felt kind of liberating to not have his presence constantly looming over her life. And with the alone time Marinette now had away from Nathaniel, she found herself constantly rethinking her life and decisions. About what she chose, about what could have been.

Marinette had always had a habit of talking to herself. Now every time she felt herself falling into dejection, she would whisper to herself over and over, “I chose this. This is my life now. This is what my life will be from now.” That did wonders to push the fears and insecurities to the back of her mind.

But as days passed, it started to get harder and harder. After all, it is an inexplicable pain to see the one you love right in front of you, be with them, all the time knowing that they'll never be yours. Being around him didn’t do anything to help her move on from him, even if she tried.

Gradually, the secrets and the pretences began to take a toll on her. And with the new university and her fashion courses, it was all too much for her. She felt herself giving in to the pressure. Designing or baking did not work their therapy on her anymore. And the first thing she did when things started getting bad was slowly cut off Nathaniel. Not that she wanted to. It was just she couldn't trust herself to not explode in front of him. And after everything the boy had been through, the last thing he'd want was the only person he trusted to go off on her. So the only solution that she saw was to stay away from him. Only, she could not come up with an appropriate excuse. The poor boy kept asking her what was wrong, but Marinette would say she was fine. Until one day she snapped.

Marinette was having a particularly rough day, after she had accidentally dropped her sketchbook, which held her designs that she had been working so hard on, right into the waters of the Seine. She had retrieved them, of course, but her work of weeks was ruined. She had shut herself in her room and decided to bury herself in her designs till she redrew them. It probably wouldn’t be as perfect as the originals, but she needed to submit something the next day to pass the class.

Unfortunately, Nathaniel chose that very evening to call her. Marinette ignored his calls and messages for a while, till the alert sounds were getting on her nerves. She finally picked up the phone and asked, “What is it, Nate?”

If she sounded grumpy or bitter, Nathaniel obviously did not notice it as he went on a ramble about how a cute guy on the subway had complimented him on his blazer.

“And this is what was so important that you called me for like, 17 times?” Marinette cut him off mid-rant.

That was when it registered in Nathaniel's mind. “Uh, I thought you'd like to know,” Nathaniel spoke nervously.

“Maybe I would, but not everyone necessarily has the time for this! Take the hint when I wasn't answering your calls or replying to your texts.” Marinette replied acidly.

“What is wrong Mari?” Nathaniel sounded concerned.

“Why does something have to be wrong?” Marinette was beginning to lose her temper. “It just happens that you don't seem to realise that some people might have more important stuff going on than just a random guy complimenting you on your clothes!”

When there had come no reply from the other end, Marinette quickly disconnected the call and switched her phone off. She had too much on her hands at the moment.

Marinette had fallen asleep at her table, sometime in the middle of the night. In the wee hours of the morning, she woke up to find a string of messages from Nathaniel, which he had sent right after the phone call the previous night.

“So, this is it? I... I don't matter anymore? It’s okay, Marinette, I get it. I was just an unnecessary burden that you were carrying around although you didn't have to. This had to end sometime, right? After all, we both know very well that I'll never be able to give you what you want. I am only holding you back from everything that you could have, everything that you deserve. I'm sorry for everything Mari, I hope you can forgive me. Take care Marinette, and be happy. I promise I won't bother you anymore. Goodbye.”

Marinette had not seen this coming. She couldn't deny that she had been a bit too harsh in her words the previous night, but was it that bad? Had she made it sound like she didn't want Nathaniel to be around her? She tried to remember what exactly she had said, but to her anguish, all of it was a blur. In exasperation, she kicked against the side of her desk, only to wince back in pain immediately afterwards. Surely, the voice in her head kept saying, this can't be happening. Nathaniel wouldn't just leave just because Marinette had said some harsh words, right? Their relationship was too above that, of course! After everything they had been through together, a little miscommunication couldn't possibly be what would break it! Over and over she read Nathaniel's texts, trying to make something out of it, something less painful. She tried to read between the lines, desperately trying to convince herself that it wasn't happening.

The only reason she dragged herself out of her house an hour later was because she had to submit the designs that day. And the only reason she had left her phone without replying to Nathaniel was because she was scared that she might mess it up further.

Three agonising hours later, Marinette sat in the cafeteria. Anger coursed through her. Anger at Nate, anger at herself, anger at the stupid deadline! As she desperately tried to reign in her temper, because that was what had caused the entire mess in the first place, she found herself regretting her decision to leave her phone at home. At least she could have called Alya and talked to her. At one point of time, Marinette had been glad that no one from her old school was in the same university as her, because then she could put everything behind her and start her life without the lies. It didn’t seem that convenient anymore. She wished she could talk to someone, anyone, right now. But since there was no way to do that, she went back to sipping on her iced tea to soothe her nerves.

“Are you okay?” said a voice from behind Marinette, as a hand was laid on her shoulder.

Before Marinette could turn around, the intruder came into her range of vision as he seated himself at her table.

It was Adrien, and he was looking at her with concern in his emerald hands. Did she really look that terrible? Marinette asked herself. More importantly, what could she answer to Adrien, when he didn't even know anything about Nathaniel? But then again, she was stuck in the university for at least two more hours, without a phone and no one but Adrien to talk to. Adrien was the only friend she had for now, and Marinette felt she would combust from the stress if she didn't talk sometime soon. Sure, once she figured out how to begin.

“It's umm... you know, about this boy,” she struggled through her words.

Immediately, Adrien perked up. “Boy? Crush? Ex? Boyfriend?”

Marinette felt a smile creep up onto her face in spite of herself. “Let's not use any labels, okay? It’s a bit too complicated for that,” she clarified.

Adrien wiped the silly grin off his face and looked on with interest, silently urging her to continue.

“So we had kind of an argument last night, and I may have been a bit rude to him. In my defence though, I was stressed beyond limits. And this morning, I woke up to a bunch of texts from him, saying that... that,” Marinette faltered. How do you put that into words?

Luckily, Adrien seemed to have understood what she was trying to say. “That he’s leaving you for good,” Adrien offered.

“Exactly,” explained Marinette. “Except that I meant nothing like that and he took it all the wrong way and he thinks I want to get rid of him and oh so I feel so angry at him right now because after all this time how could he misunderstand such a simple thing and I-”

“Woah there,” Adrien interrupted. “Slow down. Maybe drink a bit more of that drink you've got there.”

“Iced tea,” murmured Marinette, “soothes my nerves.”

That was when she realised that her hands were shaking so badly that she could not even hold the glass in her hand. And on the top of that, a pounding began in her head.

As she clutched her head in her hands, Adrien reached over. “Hey, are you okay? Do you need anything?” he asked.

But Marinette could not hear him over the incessant buzzing in her ears. Breathing had never felt so difficult, it was as if something was blocking her trachea.

Adrien could see Marinette gasping for breath, and shaking uncontrollably, and it scared him. What was happening to this girl? It took him a moment to snap out of his fixation, but then he got up and picked Marinette up in his arms, rushing to the nurse's office, ignoring all the odd looks he could feel on him in the corridors.

The nurse injected a mild tranquillizer into Marinette's blood. It took effect pretty soon, and soon Marinette had drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

“It looks like your friend over here has had an anxiety attack,” the nurse explained to Adrien. “Is she under medications for such attacks?”

Adrien simply looked on with bewilderment.

Either he is too stressed out to comprehend my words right now, thought the nurse, or he seriously has never heard of an anxiety attack. Deciding on the former, she went on, more gently, “Has she ever had spells like this before?”

Adrien looked down, his expression guilty. “I-I don't know. I don't spend much time with her.”

The nurse shook her head. “Well, I am guessing by how freaked out she was when you brought her in that she is as unacquainted with these attacks as you are, young man. Whatever be it, I need to contact her parents. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, you said?” The nurse asked as she scrolled through the student records on her computer.

Adrien nodded.

“I assure you that your friend will be okay, you may take your leave if you have classes you need to be at now.”

Adrien took a glance at his watch. His class had started fifteen minutes ago. Since he was late anyway...

“No,” he confidently lied to the nurse. “I don't have any classes for another hour.”

“Fine,” obliged the nurse. “Do keep the young lady company while I go call up her parents.” Adrien silently sank down on the edge of the bed Marinette was asleep on. As he stared at her face, he noticed how ill she looked. The colour had faded from her cheeks, and dark bags hung under her eyes. What could have been so terrible that upset this amazing girl like this?

Marinette's parents came in some time later. Adrien noticed the stark difference in their appearances. While Marinette's mother, who looked and dressed Chinese, was a small woman like her daughter, Marinette's father could aptly be called a giant of a man. They seemed like very nice people, by the way they talked to the nurse. Mrs Cheng assured the nurse that her daughter did not have any history of anxiety attacks. In that case, the nurse advised them, they should get their daughter a professional check-up at the earliest. They thanked the woman for her help and turned to leave.

As Mrs Cheng left the room with her daughter leaning onto her, still not quite awake, Mr Dupain stopped at the door. He turned to look at Adrien standing there, and Adrien couldn't help but be intimidated. But Mr Dupain had the kindest of expressions on his face as he grabbed Adrien's hand and firmly shook it. “Thank you for taking care of my little girl,” he whispered gratefully.

Adrien was surprised to know that the huge man could speak in so low a voice. “It was a pleasure,” he smiled in acknowledgement.

After he left, Adrien wondered if he had even done anything that special to receive such warm gratitude. “Taking care of” Mr Dupain had said. Funny, thought Adrien, for anyone would probably have done the same if a friend went through something like that in front of them. Nevertheless, Adrien decided that the Dupain-Chengs were probably affectionate people by blood.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #the road to us and everything in between #chapter 2 #no magic au #alternate universe - no powers #marinette dupain cheng #nathaniel kurtzberg #alya cesaire #adrien agreste #tom dupain #sabine cheng #adrienette #slow burn #my fic

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e-milieeee · 5 years ago

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i love you a latte—adrienette

Summary: Running on 5 cups of coffee and the extra boost her transformation gives her, Marinette’s determined to finish her project before the sun rises.

(Adrien’s just here to distract her, and honestly, it’s working.)

Notes: honestly i labelled it adrienette but it has a mix of ladynoir, ladrien and adrienette but its post reveal so it doesn’t actually matter LOLOLOL

Or read on AO3!

Marinette was stressed.

Her desk was a testament of that: it was littered with papers, candy wrappers, string, fabric and the coffee stain from two hours ago that she hadn’t bothered wiping up. The flat wasn’t any better. Like a risky game of jenga, the sink was piled high with dirty dishes. Takeout boxes were stacked just as precariously in the trash. Her closet, a complete and utter nightmare, fared no better. Marinette had a headache just looking at the mess, and thinking about having to clean it made her nauseous. So she just didn’t clean it.

As Adrien often told her, she was awful at dealing with stress.

It didn’t help that the project was due in three days. Marinette had been slaving through it for weeks on end, but the last design was particularly difficult. There was always something that didn’t seem right, but she could never pinpoint it. Now, as the end product was slowly but surely beginning to assemble, and Marinette didn’t have time for distractions. And tidying and doing dishes and sleeping were all distractions.

The clock read two thirty in the morning. If she worked hard enough, she could be finished by dawn. Then, she could sleep all through the morning, wake up in the afternoon, and start the revisions. It was a relatively foolproof plan if she didn’t count the fact that she might not be able to make it until morning.

The fifth cup of coffee just wasn’t doing it. Marinette needed something stronger.

For a moment, she sat still in her chair, contemplating her options. Then a burst of sleep deprived brilliance struck Marinette.

“Tikki,” she called.

Her kwami had dozed off on Marinette’s desk rather early in the night, but she startled awake quickly with a, “Yes?”

“I’m going to transform,” Marinette decided. “It’ll fight off the sleep better.”

“Don’t you think sleeping would be a better option? Then you can work on it in the morning!”

“Sleeping is not an option.” Especially not when she was in the final run, and all she needed to do was finish…

Tikki gave her a look that Marinette was well accustomed to: bad idea, but your choice. Given that there was no verbal or physical resistance, she took it as an agreement, no matter how reluctant. Tikki had witnessed firsthand how wonderfully terrible Marinette was with deadlines and always did her best to accommodate.

“Tikki, spots on!”

A flash of pink later, Marinette was suited and ready to work again. She downed the coffee for good measure, fought back a yawn, and positioned herself in front of the sewing machine.

“I’m Ladybug,” she said aloud, turning to her sewing machine. “I’m Ladybug, and I’m going to finish this—”

A tapping sound interrupted her. Ladybug whirled around. Even her muddled brain could comprehend that if somebody were to see Ladybug sitting in Marinette’s apartment, the dots wouldn’t be so hard to connect.

To her relief, it was a familiar pair of green eyes that blinked at her through the window. Chat Noir was crouching on the ledge, mouthing something that Ladybug couldn’t hear. She scrambled from her chair, nearly knocking her cup down in the process, and slid open the window.

A gust of cool, night breeze swept inside. For a moment, she wondered if leaving the window would help her stay more awake… then a particularly strong gust sent the papers on her desk flying out of order, and she slammed it shut behind Chat.

“What are you doing here?” Ladybug asked when a semblance of order had been restored.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied simply. “What about you?”

She winced. “Final project.”

He eyed the room contemplatively, and it hit Ladybug just how messy everything was. She let out a mortified squeak of shock, but the dirty dishes and takeout boxes and unfolded laundry weren’t going anywhere. “Out!” she shrieked. “Oh my God, out!”

“Plagg, claws in!”

Before Ladybug could shove him back through the window out of embarrassment, it was no longer Chat but Adrien that stood there, hands raised in a placating gesture. She froze. She couldn’t send him tumbling down thirteen stories like she could with Chat Noir.

He was donning the Ladybug pajamas he was so unabashedly proud of, hair loose and messy—his Chat hair. He definitely looked like he had rolled right out of bed.

Slowly, Ladybug backed down with a groan. “Don’t you dare comment about the state of the apartment. I know it’s bad.”

“Wasn’t going to, m’lady.”

“As long as you have food in your fridge,” a grumpy voice interrupted, “I don’t mind how messy it is either.”

Ladybug raised an eyebrow at Plagg as he zipped out from Adrien’s hair. “This idiot here couldn’t sleep, so he dragged me up, and for what? Oh, Plagg, I just want some fresh air! Plagg, please? I’ll buy you extra camembert. Plagg, you know how my insomnia acts up sometimes.” Plagg retched. “Fresh air my ass. I wouldn’t have agreed if I knew he was just going to be sticking his tongue down your throat.”

Adrien’s face went pink. “Plagg!”

“Shut up and feed me.”

“Glutton,” Adrien shot back, sticking his tongue out petulantly at his kwami. “Marinette, do you have food? And why are you transformed?”

“Uh,” she managed. She tried to think what was left in her fridge, but her brain wasn’t functioning enough for it. “I think I can focus better as Ladybug? Anyway, there’s cookies in the cabinets for Tikki. Plagg can either eat that or the raw meat in the freezer.”

Plagg, bemoaning how he hated Adrien, floated off to the cabinets in search of sweets.

Meanwhile, Adrien rounded her desk to lean on the other (slightly cleaner) side. “How many cups of coffee?”

Ladybug returned to the sewing machine. “Five. I think it stopped working.”

“I think it’s because you’ve drank so much coffee these past couple years that you’ve slowly built up immunity to the caffeine. Did you sleep last night?”

“Yes.” She paused, counting the time. “Two and a half hours.”

Adrien looked horrified. “Marinette!” he exclaimed. “You still have three days to finish. You need to take a break.”

He was right, but while she did need the break, the project also needed to be finished. Sure, there were three more days, but Ladybug needed to have the wiggle room for revisions and checking and double-checking for perfection.

“If I finish tonight, I have time to relax and revise without stressing about it,” she explained, although Adrien looked less convinced after each word. “I’m already behind schedule, since I’ve been working on the last dress forever and this is the fourth try.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you look like you’re about to pass out.” He gave her desk another scan as if to prove the point. “Seriously, Marinette, you’ll produce better work if you’re well rested and not running on caffeine.”

Once again, Adrien was right. She could barely go ten minutes without scrubbing her face with water or rubbing her eyes and yawning. Then a wave of panic rushed over her. The dress she had been working on had been made when she was not well rested, which meant it wasn’t under the category of better work, which meant she should redo it all from scratch so she could submit her best quality work—

“Marinette,” Adrien interrupted like he knew exactly what she was going to say. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t do anything you’ll regret. Just sleep.”

“But—”

Before she could formulate the rest of the protest, Adrien had scooped her out of the chair. Ladybug was too tired to put up a struggle. “Have you eaten any fruits or vegetables in the past couple of days?” he demanded as he carried her towards the bedroom. “Wait, have you even been eating three meals? Have you been eating two meals?”

Ladybug scrunched her nose. “What are you, my mom?”

“Your mom would ask you the same,” he shot back immediately. “Seriously, Mari, you need to take care of yourself more.”

Too tired to argue with him, she shut her eyes and curled up against his chest. Sleep was a dangerous thing; once she gave into it, there was no way out. “S’okay,” she mumbled. “You’ll take care of me.”

“Then you better let me do my job.”

She giggled. “You are like my mom.”

“And as your mother, I’m putting you to bed.”

Bed. The word sounded comforting and lovely and warm ( Adrien was all that as well). The last thing she felt was Adrien setting her gently down on the mattress, pulling the duvet over her, and then the rest was oblivion.

***

Marinette woke up to the smell of breakfast wafting into her room. Which was a rare commodity because breakfast was her favourite meal to skip.

The bed was comfortable and warm, blankets tucked all around her. Given her penchant for kicking her covers off in the middle of the night, that meant she had been recently tucked in, and—

Adrien. Everything came flooding back. Adrien was here in her apartment—her unpresentable, messy apartment—and he had somehow coaxed her to sleep last night when she could’ve spent the time finishing up her project. He had also managed to get her to detransform, because she was once again wearing the same clothes she had been wearing for at least two days.

Marinette shot out of bed, now properly horrified. She scrambled. She flailed. She stubbed her toe on the drawer and fled into the living room, where the delightful smell of breakfast was the strongest.

Adrien was standing at the stove, wearing her pink apron, still in his Ladybug pajamas. That wasn’t the most surprising part, though: every mess in the kitchen and living room had been straightened, cleaned, or disposed of.

Marinette gaped.

Having noticed her presence, he turned around and waved, spatula still in hand. Sunlight slanted through the windows and onto the couch—the couch that just last night was so full of clothing and papers that no one could sit on—which was now clear. Only cushions sat in their rightful place. It looked like he had performed a full-on exorcism on the mess.

“Adrien,” Marinette managed aloud, “what happened here?”

He flipped an egg. “I tidied up a little when I woke up this morning,” he replied. “And, uh, restocked a bit of your groceries. You were running low.” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “In full honesty, I only got up because Plagg was yelling at me about having no proper sustenance, so I decided to clean to pass the time.”

The little black kwami floated out as if summoned. “Just because Tikki likes cookies,” he sniffed, “doesn’t mean I do.” As if to prove his point, he waved a whole wheel of camembert. Marinette stuck out her tongue at Plagg before turning back to Adrien.

“You had time to clean and get groceries?” she asked. “There was… a lot of stuff around here. Like, a lot. It would’ve taken me at least hours to tidy.”

Adrien transferred the eggs from the pan to the two plates. He gestured at the counter, where the digital clock sat. “It’s eleven, so I had three hours to do all of that.”

Eleven. The realization dropped like a bomb and Marinette nearly screamed. “Eleven?” she yelped, whirling on Adrien. “Why did you let me sleep for so long? Why didn’t you wake me up? I wasn’t even supposed to sleep last night and I’m not finished and this means—”

“Marinette, relax!”

She slowed to a halt. “You still have time,” Adrien continued soothingly, in the specific tone he used every time he needed to calm her down. “I let you sleep in because you need to be well-rested to put out your best work, and you need to eat a healthy, balanced meal in order to focus later. You can work all day afterwards. But right now, we’re going to have brunch together, and you’re not going to think of your project until we finish.”

Marinette didn’t want to wait. The fact that she was so close yet not quite made her uncomfortably jittery and the only remedy would be to work work work so she could just get it done with, but that wasn’t rational or reasonable. Besides, the meal Adrien had cooked smelled delicious and it would be rude to not eat it with him…

Relax, she told herself. I’ll finish in time. It’ll be okay.

Marinette breathed in a full body inhale, then let it out slowly. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, let’s eat.”

Adrien’s eyes crinkled and she felt herself relax slightly. “Just sit,” he told her. “I’m supposed to pamper you today.”

The table was already set, so Marinette slid into the chair as Adrien set down her plate in front of her. On it were the eggs he had been frying, a scallion pancake, strawberries, and a generous serving of hash browns. Ever since his father had been defeated, Adrien started dropping by their family’s bakery more and more, and her mother had taken to both feeding him and teaching him how to properly cook. It turned out that Adrien had what Sabine called the Culinary Touch, because once he started learning, everything he made was heavenly.

Her mug was set down before her, and Marinette let out a squeak of delight. “You learned how to do this?” she asked, beaming at the cream heart decorated perfectly on top.

Adrien gave her a cheeky grin. “I love you a latte,” he announced proudly.

Marinette moaned. “You ruined it.”

“Nah, you love my puns.”

“I love a lot of things about you, but your internet-stolen puns aren’t one of them.”

He feigned hurt, clutching his chest. “All of this,” he cried, gesturing grandly, “was for that pun. I only ask for a minuscule amount of appreciation, Bugaboo, yet you wound me with your insults—”

“Shut up, drama queen,” Marinette laughed, picking up her utensils. “Ugh, I’ve been craving scallion pancakes for so long. And you make these exactly like my mom.”

Adrien preened. “We established that I am your mother last night,” he reminded her.

“I don’t claim responsibility for anything I said, agreed to, or didn’t agree to last night. Also, how did you get my transformation off?”

It was Adrien’s turn to groan. “I had to bribe you into saying Tikki, spots off, ” he grumbled. “You don’t know how hard it was. For someone who put up such a struggle about not wanting to sleep, as soon as you touched the bed, you were out like a light.”

Marinette, not remembering anything that happened last night, was more than happy not to recall. “But you managed it in the end, didn’t you?”

“But at what cost?” Adrien speared a hashbrown. “What would Paris think to know that their beloved Ladybug was actually such a bratty menace?”

Torn between curious and mortified, Marinette asked, “What did I do?”

Adrien gave her a wicked little grin. “I’m not telling,” he sang.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her beg for the answer, Marinette dug back into her breakfast and tried to appear disinterested. Apparent lack of interest was always the easiest way for Adrien to crack.

It only took a minute or so before he spoke up again. “Do you want to know what you did?”

Marinette arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re asking, not me.”

“C’mon, humour me, buginette.”

“Only because you said so, chaton. What deal with the devil did you strike last night?”

He grinned. “I think I’ll save that for another time. You need to get to work soon.”

Marinette glared at him, mentally filing away the fact that she was going to wiggle the information out of him one way or another. Stuffing the last piece of scallion pancake into her mouth, she sat back with a content sigh. “This was good.”

“And it was a well balanced meal,” Adrien added drily, also cleaning his plate. “Which you should be eating despite the fact that you have a final project due. I saw at least three Chinese take-outs in your trash can.”

“One was from last week!”

Adrien wrinkled his nose. “Is that supposed to be better or worse?”

Shaking her head, she smiled at him instead. “Thank you,” Marinette told Adrien, and she meant it. “You’re the best.”

He returned the smile, green eyes crinkling. Back in lycée, her heart would’ve turned to mush if he smiled at her in such a way. Now, five years later, Marinette was no closer to stopping the butterflies in her stomach. It wasn’t her fault he had such a lovely smile.

Adrien was the first to look away, sweeping her empty plate from in front of her in one smooth movement. “I’ll do the dishes,” he offered. “Finish your project, and maybe we can cook dinner together.”

Before Marinette could agree, he leaned down and planted a quick kiss against her cheek in one fluid movement. “Good luck. I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”

She stared at him for a couple seconds longer as he headed towards the kitchen. She didn’t deserve Adrien. Amazing, kindhearted, hardworking, considerate Adrien who was everything anybody could ever ask for.

“Marinette?” he stuck his head out. “I love you a latte.”

She groaned. Of course he had to pun.

"I also love you a latte," she replied reluctantly.

(All the embarrassment was worth the grin that spread across his face.)

Notes: This is part 3 of my lovesquare drabbles, although they’re all loosely interconnected and each work as a standalone. If you’re interested, here’s part one, and here’s part two!

Here’s my fic masterlist.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug #my writing #mlb fic #stressed marinette LOL whoops

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imkylotrash · 5 years ago

Text

Can You Keep A Secret?

Pairing: Zed Evans x reader, Hardin Scott x reader (related)

Summary: You’re Hardin’s cousin and followed Hardin to America. You’re friends with molly and the other but Hardin doesn’t want Zed to be around you because he’s afraid they’re not good for each other. That causes some drama. requested by @find-another-place

A/N It’s set while Hardin has the bet thing going in but Zed is obviously not a part of it.

“I should get going,” you say loud enough for Hardin to hear but not loud enough to alert everyone sitting around you. It’s yet another night of partying at the frat house and while you would normally enjoy a night of fun with Hardin and Molly, tonight you have something else planned.

“Where were you going again?” he asks clearly suspicious. He’s been that way ever since he found out you and Zed went on a date.

“I have a deadline to finish, Hardin. I’m going straight home,” you reply. He can’t really argue with that since he’s the one who got you the book deal. Without your knowledge your dear cousin submitted your work to Vance who was ecstatic about your writing style so now you had a book deal and a deadline though that wasn’t the real reason why you were leaving tonight.

“No detours?”

“No detours,” you sigh, “but it’s not like it’s something you decide anyway.” Getting up from the couch you nod to Molly who immediately follows you.

“What’s up?” she asks. Even though Molly has a bad reputation of being a complete bitch, you don’t really care since she’s never been anything but a good friend to you.

“I need Hardin to be distracted. Think you’re up for it?” you smirk knowing that it’ll be no problem for Molly to distract Hardin even now that he’s been spending so much time with that Tessa girl. Without another word Molly goes to sit on Hardin’s lap and while he looks slightly annoyed about it, he still allows it. For a second, you wonder how long it’ll take for him to admit that he likes Tessa. Then you remember that you have other places to be, so you grab your stuff and head out to where your new favourite car is parked.

“Hi,” you smile getting into the passenger seat.

“So, where do you want to go?” Zed asks giving your hand a light squeeze before turning on the engine to the car.

“Your place. I figured we could cook together.” Before pulling onto the road he raises your hand and kisses it. The gesture turns your cheeks red so you look away. You’ve never been very romantically inclined and the closest thing you had to a boyfriend back in England was a guy you hooked up with twice rather than just once. In that perspective you resemble Hardin a lot but when you came to America and met Zed, something changed for you. Suddenly, you wanted all that cheesy romance that you normally only saw in films. The sweet gestures and whispered promises. You want it all and Zed gives it to you. If only Hardin could see that instead of being so bothered about the fact that you want to be with Zed. You know there’s some history between him and Zed, but Zed would never intentionally hurt you. And with the bet concerning Tessa, you don’t really feel like he has a leg to stand on.

“What’s on your mind?” Zed asks bringing you back to the present.

“Just you and Hardin,” you reply staring out the window, “I wish you could get along.”

“Don’t put that on me though. I tried to talk to him.” And you know Zed tried. You tried, Molly tried, even Landon tried just to help. But there’s no talking to Hardin when he gets like this. He just wants to have it his way but you won’t let that stop you.

“Turn the car around?”

“What?”

“Turn the car around, I’ve changed my mind.” Zed pulls over on the side of the road with a look that clearly says “you’ve lost your mind”.

“We’re going to the party. I don’t want to sneak around anymore.” Hardin does not get to decide who you date. If that were the case, you’d tell him to drop Tessa immediately.

“Are you sure? Last time he saw us together didn’t exactly go well.” He scratches the back of his head, A reflex he has when he gets nervous.

“I totally respect if you don’t want to, but I’m so done sneaking around. I don’t want Hardin to control my life.” He’s kissing you the second you finish talking. It’s rough and passionate and you love every second of it.

“Let’s do it.” Half an hour later you’re back at the house where the lawn is filled with people either making out or puking their guts out. It’s a disgusting scene and you can’t believe you were once one of the people on that lawn.

“Ready?” Zed asking and when you nod he gets out the car to open your door. You silently pray that this will not go as badly as you imagine it. But of course no one’s listening because you only just make it through the door before Hardin has Zed pinned against the wall.

“What are you doing with her?” he demands to know.

“Hardin, stop!” you yell trying to get him away from Zed but he’s not budging. Thankfully, Zed is standing completely still instead of provoking him. You make eye contact with him and he gives you a slight nod.

“Hardin, listen to me! We’re dating, okay. We have been for a few months now.” His fist connects with Zed’s jaw making you cry out. Tristan grabs hold of Hardin and pulls him away.

“Are you okay?” you ask searching Zed’s face for any kind of injure. It’ll definitely bruise but he seems alright.

“Look, Scott, I like her. Okay? This isn’t a bet or petty revenge or whatever you may think.” Grabbing hold of your hand he gives you a reassuring squeeze. It’s all that keeps you from jumping Hardin yourself. It’s so typical that he wants to control everything and everyone. Even now with three guys holding him back, he’s still trying to punch his way free and get to Zed.

“You will accept this or I tell Tessa!” You don’t really mean it, but he’s leaving you no choice. If he refuses the accept you and Zed then this is the alternative.

“You wouldn’t,” he spits and you can tell the anger coursing through him. Maybe it’s a bad idea to agitate him right now but the problem is that you’re getting angry too.

“Are you willing to risk that?” You shouldn’t have come. It was a stupid idea so you spin around and drag Zed with you out the door. Before you can get in the car Molly comes up to you.

“Thank you for making this an interesting party,” she laughs and you can’t help but laugh a little yourself. Why you ever thought this could go well is beyond you.

“Y/N!” You turn around ready for round two but he seems more relaxed now.

“I don’t do apologies.” Raising your brows you wait for him to continue.

“If you truly like him then I guess I can leave it alone. But don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart.” He points his finger at Zed but you smile anyway. This is the closest you’ll get to acceptance from Hardin and you’ll gladly take it. You engulf him in a hug which he returns slightly hesitant.

“Thank you,” you whisper before letting go of him. You walk over to stand beside Zed and he places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Don’t do that shit in front of me,” Hardin warns making both you and Zed chuckle.

“Then don’t look,” he says before kissing you properly. It’s sweet and short but enough to stir alive the butterflies that have taken residence in your stomach since you started dated Zed.

#zed evans #zed evans imagine #zed evans gif #zed evans blurb #zed evans x reader #hardin scott #hardin scott imagine #hardin scott blurb #after gif #after movie imagine #after blurb #after movie #after imagine #awc imagine #awc movie #awc #samuel larsen imagine #samuel larsen

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yandere-society · 6 years ago

Note

Yandere!CEO!Taehyung who is either obsessed with his assistant who is going to work for another Yandere!Ceo (Like Jungkook) or a coffee store owner where he gets his coffee from but the store is moving to a new town

I got lost in the sauce bc I recently watched The Devil Wears Prada and I saw ‘assistant’ and ‘ceo’ and I went off. Hope you don’t mind :)

Admin/Writer- Chinkbihh

Words- 6.7k

Trigger Warnings- Sadism, verbal abuse, yandere Taehyung

Actually, The Devil Wears Gucci

You had always thought that ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ was an over exaggeration of what a boss/assistant relationship could be.

Until you met Mr. Kim.

Meryl Streep as a boss would’ve been an angel compared to the monster who signed your paychecks now.

You had moved to the city with the assumption that jobs would be readily available for your plucking, however not even Mcdonalds was willing to call back for an interview. After living three weeks in the city without a job, you told yourself that you would apply to anything and everything you came across before resorting to less admirable means of getting money. So when you came across a job position for being an assistant to some company, you had half-heartedly sent an application- no expectations for getting any response.

Apparently, this place was more desperate than you for it took exactly two hours before some nice lady was calling you and begging for an interview. This should have been the first red flag, for what kind of office job was more eager than a fast food chain? However the pay was nice and you weren’t in any position to shrug off potential employers, thus you agreed to come in.

The following day you arrived at the company and sat down with the woman from over the phone, answering her questions with as much integrity as you could muster. You were answering the stream of questions with ease until one odd one came up.

“Are you fast?” She asked not once looking up from her little clipboard. The question threw you off guard.

“I-I’m sorry, what are you referencing?” Your confident mask faltered for a second due to your inability to understand what the fuck she meant.

“You’re going to be asked to make runs to the most random places throughout the city under harsh time crunches, do you think you could do that?” She seemed sympathetic as she said this, as if she really didn’t want to put you through that.

This should have been another red flag, but all that popped into your head was coffee runs.

You just nodded, sure you could do some running around to get some wealthy people a couple cappuccinos for their ‘productive’ meetings.

“Are you sensitive?”

Your eyebrow rose on its’ own accord and before your mouth could open to ask for more context, the interviewer interjected by saying;

“Our CEO is a very…um, blunt man. Some people don’t like that personality type so we rather avoid employing someone who will crumble under that pressure.” This was yet another red flag.

One that you didn’t bother looking at as you just smiled and told her, “I promise to keep my emotions out of the professional scene here.”

–

‘Blunt’ turned out to be a really watered down version for what the CEO actually was; a heartless bastard with no concept of empathy. You later felt backstabbed by the interviewer (Irene was her name) for downplaying such a demon. But you could understand her incentive to not scare you off, how else would they get any employees if everyone knew about the CEO’s true behavior?

After your brief interview, Irene declared you more than adequate enough for the position. She decided to show you around before your first day the following week.

The office was modern and chic with everyone seated at different sections depending on their department. You got the sense that it was an elaborate operation given the high-rise location of the office floor and the expensive furniture. Even the fucking coffee maker at the cafeteria was more costly than your rent. Despite the modern and voguish environment, all the employees Irene introduced you to seemed amicable and kind enough. You did however notice the slight eye widen whenever Irene told them that you were going to be “Mr. Kim’s new assistant.”

There was something that no one was telling you, but everyone knew.

You didn’t discover what it was until Irene walked you over to a door and told you that it was time to meet the man you’d be working for.

“It’s very important that you knock everytime. Walking in without warning will make him furious.” Irene gently told you as she raised her hand to knock on the mahogany door.

However before her small fist could make contact with it, the door was ripped open from the other side and a girl rushed out in such speed you could barely catch her face.

The one thing you did catch though was the blotched mess it was with tear streaks running down it. You heard her sobs sound behind you and get further and further away as she ran out of the office. You thought you heard a muttered; “insensitive jerk” as she passed by.

Irene side-glanced you and gave you an awkward smile. It was obvious that she didn’t even know what to do. “Um…sorry about that. R-Rose has always been a bit of a crybaby.”

She was a bad liar.

Irene leaned forward in the now open doorway and called out,

“Mr. Kim? Is it alright if I come in?” A grunt was heard but this was all the confirmation she needed before taking your hand and leading you inside.

The office was large with the outer wall being all glass, revealing the sky-line of the other tall skyscraper buildings in the city. The walls were white but every piece of furniture was black, from the tiny lounge sofa pushed to the side to the very frames the abstract paintings were held in. In the center of such room was a large grey granite desk that held a golden name plate that clearly read; Kim Taehyung (CEO).

Behind the desk stood your new boss as he ruffled his hair in frustration.

His messy strands were icy blue that contrasted the copper shade of his complexion, the sun having seemingly adored his skin but the top of his head favoring the cold. (Or hair dye, but that’s none of your business.) He was tall with a broad torso, yet he was slender. His olympian body was clad in a suit that you dared not ponder the price of, knowing it could only end with you in tears. His intense and dark brows were pinched forward in annoyance, below them were his egyptian-like eyes that held raven colored orbs ignited with a fire you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of. His face was slender but his features were anything but. His nose being fleshy but straight and his lips being plushy and berry-red. Spotted on his face were tiny beauty marks that were spaced enough to form a miniature constellation.

He looked up at Irene and scowled, “I told her to get Park Jimin for a meeting and the dumbass calls Park Chanyeol on accident. Now I have to deal with this dumbo eared giant in the lobby who can’t take a fucking hint that I’m not selling any of his shitty products on my line.” He grumbled with a surprisingly gravely voice that was so deep it sounded like the devil.

You connected the dots with the poor girl who ran out of the room only seconds prior, assuming he fired her or at least yelled at her very brutally. He huffed once more and sat down in his velvet chair by the desk and finally bothered to give you a glance, just now noticing the person next to Irene.

“Whose this? Don’t tell me it’s another brainless bimbo.”

He spoke of you like you weren’t in the room, which caused your brow to tick in annoyance.

Irene nervously cleared her throat and said, “This is Y/n, she is your new personal assistant.”

His face was unreadable and stony as he gave you a scrutinizing gaze, looking up and down your form to drink you in.

You wanted to shift nervously under his piercing eyes, but you didn’t want to be another ‘Rose’ for him to berate so you kept your calm. Something just told you that he fed off fear.

Then he spoke, “Go to Starbucks and get me a caramel macchiato.”

He didn’t look away from you, clearly addressing you.

Irene bristled beside you, “S-sir, she doesn’t start until-”

You cut her off with a grin as you stared right back Mr. Kim, “I’ll get right on that. Hot or iced and what size?” -

Kim Taehyung was a monster.

His source of nutrition?

The souls, hope and energy of those mere mortals around him.

In a way it was awe inducing how brilliant that man was. As much hatred people may have for him, one could not deny Taehyung his respect. It took a lot of hard work to get to where he had gotten at the young age of 23. But that did not shake the asshole regime his employees had to suffer through.

He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it and exactly how he wanted it. And if you couldn’t deliver upon such demands? Then off with your head and pray you never cross Kim Taehyung ever again.

Taehyung was not a boss who would pull one aside and quietly break the news that your services aren’t needed anymore. No. He’ll scream it infront of everyone in the middle of a conference meeting and throw in a list of reasons why you should reevaluate your life for good measure.

People bent so easily to him, submitted without question. What was once a quiet and calm scene of friendly employees will swiftly change into a frenzied mess at a drop of a hat whenever Mr. Kim walked by.

Panic would cause people to make copies of copies in fear that they’ll forget the important documents they needed to give him. People would leave elevators once Mr. Kim entered, always granting him his own ride to the top floor no matter how late they were running. People only spoke when spoken to during meetings and when a deadline wasn’t met, they simply didn’t show up to work anymore due to the fear of facing the CEO.

However there was a special infereno for the role of his personal assistant, one that you suffered everyday.

You caught on quick that he enjoyed giving you nearly impossible tasks, and he cared not about how stressful or absurd the demands were.

“Coffee and bagel on my desk in 10 minutes or you’re fired.”

“Go downtown and get me those dumplings I like, be back in fifteen.”

“Go pick up my dry-cleaning and set up an appointment for a message at that one sauna in the west side.”

“Get me the new Gucci robe or don’t bother coming in to work tomorrow.”

“I got an urge to have a dog, go get one for me by 4’oclock.”

“The dog you got me threw up in my living room, here’s the spare key so you can clean it up. Clean the rest of the place while you’re at it too.”

“I want a private jet…figure that out.”

“The tire popped off on my car on the way here. Go pop it back on, it’s two blocks down.”

“Call Jung Hoseok and cancel our dinner plans, tell him he’s an asshole and his mother is a whore.”

The last request was something he asked often of you, he particularly liked you sending over really vulgar messages to people.

One time he caught you trying to sugar coat something over the phone and called you into his office to have a ‘talk.’

“Y/n, I believe I told you to to tell Mr. Lee that he could call back when he’s done with his head being up his ass.”

He menacingly glared at you as you tried your best to keep a straight face. “What did you say instead?”

“I-I told Mr. Lee that you would further communicate with him once you deem him more aware and intelligent.”

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Funny, that sounds a lot different that ‘get your head out of your ass’.”

It was silent for a moment and you really wondered if you were going to lose your job just because you didn’t tell someone to shove it up where the sun don’t shine.

Mr. Kim sat back in his seat and barked out, “When I tell you to curse at someone, you do it. I don’t care who it is. It can be the fucking queen of England and you’ll call her a cunt if I order you to. Now get out of my office and make yourself useful by fetching me a coffee.”

Now you didn’t flinch when you called other wealthy business people with cursing insults in hand.

–

A month had passed and you had slowly become the longest working personal assistant for Kim Taehyung.

Other employees informed you that the longest run before you was three weeks and two days and the girl ended with a mental breakdown in the bathroom.

When they asked you how you managed to tolerate all of Mr. Kim’s demands whilst not getting landed on your ass with him firing you, you tried your best to explain your strategy.

You weren’t getting paid to give your opinions.

So whenever he ordered you to get him something under nearly impossible time limits, you just kept your mouth shut and ran off to compete that insane task.

It was hard given he never gave you establishment names of the places he wanted stuff from, it was always given in terms of “that out place in the east side.” “That one restaurant I like.” “That one gallery I visited last time with Jin.”

And you always only had a short time frame to figure out where he is talking about, go there and get what he wanted, and return back before his timer went off. Sprinting down the busy sidewalks of the city had become a daily thing that was required of you.

You would go out on these runs 3-4 times a day and do ridiculous calls about 5-6 times a day. Sometimes Mr. Kim would have this look on his face as he told you of your newest assignment, as if he anticipated your objection because even he knew how absurd his demands were.

But you never gave him that satisfaction, knowing that he will get the upper hand and possibly fire you if you interjected in any way.

So you would just always smile and tell him that you were right on it.

–

Kim Taehyung rather enjoyed studying you.

When he first caught sight of you, he couldn’t help but think you were very attractive. Yet this didn’t cause his heart to grow fond of you at all. In fact it was almost a negative given all the pretty assistants he had in the past turned out to be dumbest.

Yet in a matter of a few weeks, you managed to prove him wrong and exceed previously set expectations.

He knew he was an ass. And he wanted his assistants to know that when they first met him, never would he want to give a first impression of being a lax or laid back boss. So maybe he went out of his way to make things a tad more…stressful for you.

Taehyung couldn’t deny the slight surprise every time you simply responded with that cute grin of yours and pulled off every task that he even doubted was possible.

After a few weeks of this, Taehyung was forced to acknowledge the fact that you were here to stay as you have proven yourself more than capable.

But that didn’t mean he stopped fucking with you.

No, if anything he did it even more.

He found it so adorable to view that expression of yours when you were faced with yet another idiotic obstacle he set up for you. The slight incoming blush as your face reddened with a frustration that you dared not utter. The pursing of your lips as if you were forcing yourself not to object. The delightful eye widen when he told you to make vulgar calls. That funny little eyebrow twitch you did when he gave you an especially difficult command. And your pathetic little attempt to mask your displeasure by plastering on an innocent smile and chirping, “Sure, I’ll get right on that.”

It was better than any comedy Taehyung could’ve paid to watch.

Taehyung was well aware of his own sadistic tendencies, therefore it made sense that he would have an odd sense of satisfaction from pestering you.

However the endgame most sadists had never came true in this case; you never broke. He witnessed many assistants crumble under him; whether it be by crying, screaming at him or just plain storming out.

He always won in the end, his trophy being their crack in sanity and composure. But you were stubborn.

You refused to let him get to you. Maybe that’s why he found himself slightly dumbfounded by you. You swallowed your pride and did his bidding with a dog-like obedience that you obviously faked. Yet you never cracked and humored him with a spontaneous rebellion to his dictatorship, you followed along but masked yourself just enough to have him thirsty to hear your actual thoughts and feelings.

He didn’t realize just how far his fascination went until he found himself at a club on a Saturday night, sat in the VIP lounge with Kim Namjoon to his left and Kim Seokjin to his right.

They were sat at a U-shaped booth that was dimly lit and above the chaotic dancefloor that sounded below, their elevated position giving them a glamorous view of the most famous club in the city.

“Let me get this straight, your plan is to blackmail your cousin into signing off on this deal?” Namjoon clarified while pouring the trio drinks.

Taehyung shrugged and raised the glass that was handed to him up to his mouth, sniffing the over-priced alcohol before taking a chug of it. “Why not? Business isn’t meant to be all clean and squeaky.”

“Still, you’re out of your mind if you think your uncle isn’t going to get you after this.” Jin retorted from Taehyung’s other side.

“Jin, don’t think that I don’t know how you avoided giving your tax statements to the IRS.” Taehyung bit back, not liking the hypocritical behavior of his comrades.

All the men at that particular booth were wealthy ceos who ran as kings in this particular city. Taehyung wasn’t sure if he liked the term ‘friends’ but at the very least he considered Namjoon and Seokjin as allies in the cruel world of business. He tolerated the two more than he did most.

The discussion went on for another hour of so, drinks fading Taehyung’s mind as the man’s speech became increasingly more and more slurred with every topic they covered. These topics ranging from the current market to interesting endeavors they have faced lately in their line of work. The drinks continued to pour, the bottles were bottomless for such rich men. His inhibitions were lowered as well as his morals (what little there was left for him).

He didn’t quite know how or when she ended up in his lap, but he did nothing to push her off.

All the molasses covered words she purred into his ear seemed all too appealing.

Her hold on him was instantaneous, something about her screamed a comfortable sense of familiarity that he couldn’t deny for the life of him.

The rest of the night was blurry, but a clear conclusion formed when Taehyung woke up the next morning with a stranger in his bed.

–

She looked like you.

Alot.

The resemblance was striking and uncanny.

From her (color) hair, to her docile little features, to the figure shape and even the height.

If you had a twin sister, Taehyung was positive that he just fucked her into oblivion.

Taehyung had awoken the next morning with a feeling of arms around his waist and another body sharing his satin sheets. This was not necessarily a new sensation given he had his own fair share of one night stands. But he was not prepared for what he saw when he rolled around to see which nameless woman it was this time.

For a moment, his groggy mind couldn’t comprehend that it was not you, for his brain simply matched up the looks very easily and deduced it as such.

However after a moment of closer inspection, he noticed that it was a doppelganger but not the real you. The alikeness only took up his mind for a brief moment before he was forced to spot something else while studying the intruder.

She had bruises.

Hand marks around her neck, blotchiness of getting spanked on her ass, love bites that were borderline black littered her body and those ruby stained lips were swollen and cracked from assault of the mouth.

Taehyung was taken aback by the sight of such brutal violence that marked her otherwise smooth and unbothered skin.

If he didn’t know any better, he would have assumed that this girl was the victim of abuse. Yet the fact that she was in his bed had lead to the conclusion that he himself must’ve been responsible for such injuries.

He always knew that he was rough in bed, but he never went as far as he clearly did last night with this woman.

It was jaw dropping and a twinge of guilt even glimmered in his otherwise dead heart.

He must’ve put this girl through hell itself last night just to satisfy his sick primal needs. And later when he made his way to his kitchen (after telling his maid to wake the girl up and kick her out) an alarming thought bestowed upon him that was too spot-on and shameless for it not to be true.

It was no coincidence that the one girl he slept whom held so much resemblance to you lead to the wildest night that unleashed his true sadism like it never had been before.

His intoxicated self had connected the dots for him to face when he sobered up.

He wanted to leave those marks and bruises on you…not her.

–

Your body was failing you.

The moment you woke up that morning, a sense of doom was in the air as you discovered your nose was stuffed, throat sore and stomach uneasy. You were sick.

If God had granted you a nicer boss who understood the human body and the occasional decline in health, perhaps you would’ve called in for a sick day. But asking Kim Taehyung for a sick day was like asking the Devil to read a bible….you might as well have just asked for a gruesome death. Taehyung didn’t believe in sick days and you were not in the mood to begin another fruitless job search, so you decided to take some aspirin and soldier on to the office.

“Coffee, bagel…you know the drill.” Was the first words Mr. Kim greeted you with when you entered his office for the morning rundown. He seemed oddly quiet this morning and he refused to look up at you from his desk. Which was somewhat concerning given he always glared up at you whenever he barked out his demands. You simply nodded and attempted to shrug off this break in character before going off to make your first run of the day.

When you returned with the usual coffee and bagel in hand, you discovered that Taehyung was not in his office at all. You stepped out in search of him and Irene seemed to notice your struggle before telling you; “Oh, he didn’t tell you? He’s in a meeting right now with Mr. Jeon. Check the conference room.”

You quickly thanked her and made your way over to said room.

You swung the door open to see two men (one being Mr. Kim and the other being yet another handsome but youthful man in a suit) talking with hushed tones that held a underlying vibe of anger.

“Taehyung don’t fucking try me I swear to-”

“I’m not trying anything, Jungkook. I think you got a little comfortable with your position without keeping in mind how you got there.”

“Excuse me? Was this your plan all along-”The other man (who must’ve been Mr. Jeon) suddenly stopped talking as he noticed your form standing by the now ajar doorway.

This caused your boss to turn and face what took the other’s attention from the conversation at hand. Taehyung looked at you with a scowl plastered on his aristocratic face, eyes ruthless as they bored right through you.

You froze in place as your blood ran cold.

You realised too late that you had made a mistake.

You were in trouble.

“What the fuck did I say about knocking?! You worthless bitch, does your stupidity know of no bounds?” Taehyung snarled, causing your stomach to drop.

“I-I just wanted to give you the coffee and-”

He cut you off, “Details of your incompetence do not interest me.”

Maybe it was because you were sick that your emotions were a tad more sensitive than usual, but for the first time you felt your eyes sting with the incoming tears that welled up in your vision. Your body already felt beat but now your self-esteem took a plummet as well. Taehyung continued to glare at you but you tried to blink the tears away before they could fall.

“I-I’m sorry.” You stuttered before rushing to plop his food onto the table before him and scurry out of the room.

–

Your brain was pounding as if a hammer was rutting against it with a vengeance. Your stomach was twisted in knots as your throat screamed for some type of soother for the scratchy ache it was suffering. You sniffed once more and attempted to focus on the task at hand, answering calls left for the office, but your lids kept dropping due to your drowsy state. You still were licking your wounds after what had happened earlier that morning, for the first time on this job- you fucked up.

You weren’t baffled at Mr. Kim’s reaction, in fact it was to be expected for him to lash out like that. The only cause of disappointment was in yourself. You messed up when you shouldn’t have and unknowingly let the fucker get to you. You hated the fact that he saw you near tears, you hated letting him see you in a vulnerable state. You hated that you almost cowered in fear and let him smell the fear off of you. You were no better than the girls before you. You were proud to think that he would never get under your skin and that you would continue to pull everything off.

But of course there was such thing as the ‘straw that broke the camel’s back’.

You didn’t want to face him, but after the morning progressed into the early afternoon; you were called into Mr. Kim’s office.

“I need a copy of the sales reports on my desk within the next hour. There will be a board meeting at one so I’m going to need you to sit in on that and take notes. I will be going out for lunch via the reservations you made yesterday so if you can call beforehand to double-check that would be great. Also call Kim Namjoon and raincheck drinks at Oliver’s, tell him that I’m free tomorrow night but not tonight. As for now, my brother recently had a baby so I need to send flowers, go out and get some ordered and delivered to the local hospital.” He said all of this without looking up at you once during the dialogue, eyes scanning a paper before him as his deep and cold voice filled the room.

You sniffed out of instinct that can’t be helped when one is ill, to this he looked up at you in neck-breaking speed.

You thought that perhaps he was going to comment on your obvious impaired state now that he was viewing you, but instead he quirked a brow and asked harshly, “Any questions?”

You shook your head no as you ran the mental list once more in your head.

“Then get out of my office.”

–

You waited for the elevator to ‘ding’ with it’s familiar arrival.

You needed to leave the office and get those flowers your boss had asked of you, but also you needed to be back in time for that meeting. So once again, you found yourself in yet another rush. Unfortunately, the fact that Mr. Kim’s office floor was the very top one meant that you had to factor in an elevator ride to and from the top whilst going on these errand runs.

You sighed in impatience as a few more seconds passed, time eating away more than you would have liked it to.

Finally you heard a small sound that signalled an incoming elevator, you entered it when it’s silver doors opened for you.

You leaned against the wall and awaited it’s closure, but right when it was about to shut, a pale and veiny hand stuck out to stop it.

He stepped in, his face being familiar but not enough for you to correctly place your finger on it. He looked at the buttons but he didn’t click any when he saw that you both were heading to the main floor.

The doors closed and you both quietly felt the elevator descend downwards, the two of you facing the doors.

Once again, your sickness caused your nose to sniffle and this brought the attention of the man in the closed space with you.

He turned to face you. His doe eyes studied you for a moment, before a look of realization sparked in his inky orbs.

“Are you Taehyung’s assistant?” You meekly nodded, just now noticing that this was the ‘Mr. Jeon’ that was in the meeting you had interrupted earlier that morning.

You felt his gaze run down your face (which you knew was most likely pale and sick looking with a reddened nose to top it off).

“I’m sorry about what happened earlier…my cousin has always been a jackass.” He told you gently with that high-pitched voice of his that held a light musical tone. You felt your eyes widened in slight surprise at the ‘cousin’ part, but nonetheless you kept your mouth shut. You wanted to ask how the hell this guy was related to the spawn of satan himself, Mr. Jeon having a friendly and amicable tone while Mr. Kim had stick shoved up his ass 24/7. “How long have you been working for him?”

You didn’t know why he seemed so interested in that, but given he was your superior you answered; “A little over a month now, sir.”

He snorted at the ‘sir’ part but looked at you pitifully as even he must’ve known how hellish that month must have been for you. It was silent for a moment and you both felt the elevator slow down, telling you that you were about to arrive at the lobby floor.

“This might be a little unorthodox, but my company has a paid internship program if you’re interested. It only lasts six months but if your work ethic is good, we can hire you as a full-time employee after those months are up.” He dug into his suit and pulled out a business card before handing it to you.

The doors opened and he stepped out, calling out from over his shoulder; “It’s not much, but it’s better than working for that asshole.”

–

Taehyung was…sinisterly pleased.

When you had walked in that morning without knocking, he was thrilled to finally be able to reprimand you. Sure, it was a small and silly mistake. But it was the first slip-up you had in a month, and of course he was going to pounce on that.

The image of your glassy eyes blinking furiously away at stubborn tears was too good for it to not be burned into his memory. The embarrassment that burned your face with a gorgeous crimson glow was a mouth-watering sight to behold. When your lip wobbled and voice broke as you for once showed him a side of you that he never saw before (a broken and weak one) he couldn’t deny the bliss that overtook him in that moment.

He broke you.

He won.

He wanted to see it over and over again, your watery eyes and pained face that was laced in humiliation. The experience triggering a taboo sense of arousal that had Taehyung taking care of himself under his desk minutes after the meeting finished.

How badly he wanted to be the master of any further emotions of degradation, sadness or pity.

How badly he wanted that expression to be saved for his eyes only.

How badly he wanted to push you to your limits….

It took a lot of Taehyung to not tease you when he had given you your chore list of the day. He limited eye contact and pretended to be engrossed in a stupid HR letter to maintain an image of aloofness. But, it was important that you saw him as cold and unforgiving. A sadist needed to be feared.

He awaited your return eagerly for the meeting that was to be held later that day. He wanted to see if he would have a chance to yell at you and potentially embarrass you further in front of a board of directors. But when he finally walked into that meeting with expectations set of you being there; Irene was in your spot with a notepad in hand.

“Where’s Y/n?” Taehyung whispered in the middle of the presentation to one of his most loyal employees.

In response, she nudged over a paper, still frantically jotting down information that Taehyung lost interest in long ago.

Taehyung’s hands shook in fury as he read the lines over and over again.

It was a letter of resignation.

–

(Two Months Later)

You sat in front of this old and serious man as he looked over your resume once more through his thick prescription glasses.

Your internship with Jungkook’s company did not last long. Not due to a falling out or lack of good work ethic on your part, but due to a mysterious tanking of his company as insider trading and supposed tax evasion caused the business to fail.

Although, this was the story that was released to the press. Loyal workers of the Jeon Corporation will tell you that Kim Taehyung had framed him in a effort to get rid of competition. Somehow, this story was more believable to you than the one the news reported on.

Either way, you were out of a job and desperately needed to find a way to make a living. So here you were, interviewing for some shitty saleswoman position in effort to pay your rent.

“I must say…you have a lot of nerve being here today.” The old man grumbled after looking over his notes once more. You spluttered in confusion at this rude comment. The interview had been going well…what happened?

“Excuse me?”

“We called your former employers for a reference but since your most recent employer is facing jail time, we had to call the one prior to that. CEO Kim Taehyung sent us a fax that said as a worker you have ‘problems listening to specific instructions, lazy and incompetent, and the worst mistake my company will make by hiring you for you cannot handle a shred of responsibility.’”

Your mouth went dry as you pictured the boss from hell laughing evilly as he sent this fax, most likely trying to ruin your life as some sort of sick entertainment.

“I-I can explain plea-” you attempted to speak, only to be cut off with just a look.

The old man looked at you with critical beady eyes as he pointed to the door and said, “I think you should leave.”

–

You stormed into the familiar office with a rage you had never felt before.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and your very livelihood was just fucked with. How were you supposed to pay your bills or even afford to sustain your basic needs when you had someone like Kim Taehyung telling all future employers that you were ‘the worst mistake a company could commit’?

He called you lazy and incompetent! Not once did you fail him in any regard bigger than forgetting to knock on a door one time. You waited on that man hand and foot while allowing yourself to be degraded in the process.

“Where is he?!” You growled to Irene from her usual spot at the front desk.

“Y-Y/n, calm down, okay? I know what he did bu-”

“Where!” You exploded, sick and tired of her always defending him despite all the evidence of him being a devil and ruining innocent people’s lives.

She looked in your eyes and knew that she wasn’t going to convince you to leave. Irene sighed in defeat and muttered, “In his office.”

You ran to his office and visously ripped the door open to enter his little lion’s den that so many careers have met their end in.

He was seated in his lounge area, a glass of Scotch in his large golden hand as he looked up at you in a bored yet amused stare.

You approached him and he just grinned, a whimsical delight spreading across the elegant canvas that was his face.

“Y/n, I was expecting you! Can you get me a refill babe? Ever since you’ve left I’ve had to get my own and frankly, I’m kinda tired of it.” He casually called out, shaking the glass in your direction.

Your brow ticked in annoyance and you noted that it only made him smirk even wider.

So your suspicions were true; he did take pleasure in the pain of others.

“What the fuck?! What was with that reference you gave to that company?! You know damn well that I was the best assistant that you’ve ever had, and this is how you repay me?! Why? Why do you hurt me so much?” You hoarsely yelled as your voice gave out in the end, sadness beginning to overrule anger as you realized just how little your life meant to someone as big as him.

Taehyung was quiet for a moment as a somber look shadowed his face.

Then a chuckle.

That chuckle bled into a thunderous and roaring laughter as he clutched at his stomach. After a solid minute of him laughing like a crazed person, he wiped his tears away and seriously stated;

“Because I like hurting you. And you will learn to like it too. Did you think you could leave that easily? Don’t be stupid sweetie, it’s not a good look and I know you’re better than that. You might as well come work for me given that no other employers in a hundred mile radius will hire you.”

He got up and slowly stalked towards you.

“You should know better than to try to leave someone like me. But don’t worry, I’ll clear matters up in that dumb little head of yours. You’re not just an assistant and I’m not just your boss. Your my pet and I’m your master. I don’t care if you like it or not, because you only have two options. Accept it, or never get a job and starve out in the streets. You will only ever work for and serve me. Sorry I didn’t run that past you when you were working here earlier. I wanted to slowly progress our way there but you left before I could have the chance. Now I have no choice but to push this all on you.”

He was only an inch away from your face now, beaming at your shell-shocked state before he plopped his drink into your hands.

“Now….I believe I asked for a refill.”

(oooof this was kinda trash so srry but that. It ran for longer than I wanted it to so im sorry if it’s long winded. Also spacing might be weird bc my computer is on crack cocaine so that’s fun. Anyway, for inspiration I used @mint-yooxgi‘s Baekhyun yandere CEO story but obvi hers is much better so like check that out. Lemme know what you think and this is chinkbihh signing off.)

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