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issaxcharlie · 4 years

Text

If you could only know I never let you go

Pairing: Ghost! Luke x Ghost! Fem reader

Summary: Y/N lost her life the same day as her best friends and her boyfriend, wandering for 25 years finally finds them again doing the concert they never had a chance to do, just to find out they are dying all over again and she just doesn't know how to react.

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. 25 years wandering around this city, looking for him. And now here it was, shining on stage just like the last time she saw him. Flashbacks from that last night flooding her head.

She couldn't help feeling strange seeing the way the love of her life was looking at someone else, but on the other hand, seeing the three of them again, happy and doing what they love the most in the world, made her feel blissful.

Their number ended and her best friends disappeared from the stage. At that moment the young ghost decided that her best move would be to follow the beautiful singer who accompanied them, Julie.

She couldn't believe it when she saw the place they came to. For years she visited this garage day after day hoping to meet her beloved band, but after 10 years she decided to give up. Y/N didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the irony of the situation, but as soon as she appeared in the studio she decided that the best option would be crying.

The three of them lying on the ground, suffering, in so much pain, without strength. Julie crying at their side begging them to do something about it.

“You dorks can't even stay ghosts? You are definitely a lost case."

Julie turns to see her surprised, her face is full of tears and she squeezes Luke's hand hard as she strokes Reggie's hair. Reggie and Alex try to turn their heads towards their friend's voice, while Luke keeps her eyes closed.

"I have Y/N’s voice in my head just like the first time we died, I guess it’s time to say goodbye, boys."

“You are not dying on me again Luke Patterson, not freaking way.” Luke snaps his eyes open when he hears her voice for the second time and she teleports to his side.

“This is actually happening?” He asks while using the little strength he has left to caress her cheek.

"That's the same thing I thought when I heard you guys singing pop-rock." The three ghosts let out a painful laugh, touching their chest in a gesture of pain, with the exception of the guitarist who endured it so as not to stop touching the woman in front of him.

"What a pleasure to know that even after death and that your best friends and your boyfriend are about to disappear you continue to maintain your horrible sense of humor." Alex comments with a slight smile.

“You are not going to disappear. I’ve been waiting for you for 25 years, I’m getting the feeling that you are running away from me." All three know that joking is a defense mechanism that she activates when she's scared. Y/N tries to be calm but she’s shaking and tears are falling one after another from her face.

“I'm so happy that I got to see you one last time, firecracker." She reaches him desperately trying to hold on to the love of her life, and he uses the strenght he has left to hug her one last time.

But the unexpected hits them again, and a bright yellow light envelops him as he regains his strength. The others quickly approach and the five form a messy hug. When they break the hug the three ghosts look much stronger and in better condition, even smiling between tears.

"I leave you alone for 25 years and you manage to find a way to lose your soul forever, I will never underestimate your power to get into trouble again."

"I thought we had shown you how capable we are in that department, Y/N." Reggie replies while hugging his friend.

"Julie, Y/N is our best friend, composer of half the songs and Luke's personal headache."

"Hey! I thought that were you guys! But it’s a pleasure to meet you, Julie."

The singer hugs the new ghost and smiles, looking relieved to have her friends better thanks to her.

“Aren’t you gonna say something?” Y/N asks Luke, that only looks at her in silence.

“You look just like I remember you. how much time passed from our death to yours?” he manages to ask almost in a whisper, as if hoping she wouldn't hear him to not hear the sad answer.

“Same night. Let's say driving after you found out your boyfriend and friends died is a terrible idea.”

“Oh god, Y/N.” Alex hugs her and looks at his friends in silence.

“I thought you were somewhere in this city with a house, a husband, even children. It seems impossible that you are in front of me right now."

“What can I say? Lifers are no longer my type, and none of the rockstar ghosts I ran into rock sleeveless shirts like you.”

He chuckles while blushing, finally coming to terms with the idea that his person was actually in front of him, looking just as precious as 25 years ago, even though for him it had only been a few weeks since he last saw her.

All these time he had been blocking his memories of the young composer, but now that she was next to him he had the luxury of remembering one.

1995

"Can you explain why you have been running away from me? I thought we were stronger than this, if there is something that bothers you, just tell me Lucas, I’m a big girl."

The guitarist couldn’t help but smile at the grand entrance of his girlfriend. Y/N has always had a pretty chilling personality but at the same time she was as explosive as him, sometimes even more.

“First of all, Lucas, really?” The girl lets out a small laugh when she sees her boyfriend's expression, and her body looks visibly more relaxed.

“Second of all, I’m sorry beautiful. It's not that I'm running away from you." She rolls her eyes.

“I’m just... embarrased. I’m not in a good moment right know, and even some fries are out of my possibilities. It makes me angry that I can't give you anything you deserve.”

The young woman's strong and joking personality fades and her face only shows concern. She takes her boyfriend's face carefully and brings his face close to hers, their lips almost touching.

“All I want is to spend time with you. Nothing makes me happier than when you wink at me in the middle of a performance, or when you sing softly in my ear to help me fall asleep. You are the only thing I've ever wanted.”

At that moment Luke takes her by the waist to bring her even closer to him and finally close the small space that remained between them, savoring the lips of the woman who from the day he met knew was going to be his biggest addiction.

"Also, when you are the legend I know you will be, we’ll be able to buy all the fries in the world." He laughed in her lips and kiss her harder.

From the moment he met her when they were 12 years old, Y/N was the one who always kept him on his feet, trusting blindly and faithfully in Sunset Curve, sometimes even more than the 3 boys. That strength, humor and energy was what made Luke's life happier despite going through unpleasant moments. And now here she was, picking them up once more, 25 years later.

2020

Luke returned his attention to his friends just in time to intervene.

“Reggie, please tell me you are doing that country song!” His girlfriend was not only supportive with him, but also with his best friends who loved her as much as him.

“Not happening firecracker, stop encouraging him.” He said putting his hand around her waist and bringing her closer to him.

“What? I heard you sing pop, Luke. I’m pretty sure the kid can sing country If he wants to.”

“Preach it!” Said Julie with a smile while Reggie started laughing.

“Buuurneeeed” Alex replied giving his friend a high five.

“And what’s up with the suits? Not that I’m complaining, you look hot popstar.” She asks teasingly, giving her boyfriend a cheeky wink.

“That’s it Y/L.” Luke teletransported with his girlfriend, appearing back at the roof of the Orpheum.

They both stared for a few seconds until a smile invaded their faces.

"I know I didn't act like a normal girlfriend in there, just, it's hard to pretend you're okay after such a shock." The guitarist rests his forehead on his girl's, gently stroking her hair in an attempt to calm her down.

"I knew you needed to breathe , and I've never expected you to act like a normal girlfriend anyway. You weren't even a normal friend." He replies, her laugh does the trick and calms him down instantly.

“Luke?” Y/N asks brushing his lips with the corner of hers.

“Yeah?” He replies, hypnotized by the woman of his life and now death.

“Kiss me.” Luke didn’t know that even in death you can feel more alive than ever with the right person, but now he was ready to do it every day of his afterlife. The firecracker and the ROCKstar(as he claimed) were together again, and nothing is going to separe them this time.

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inb4belphienaps · 3 years

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crying over spilt milk

warnings: none word count: 2285

“Truth be told, I’ve been having these dreams. Dreams almost of another life, a past life perhaps. One that I’d lived and seen and breathed through at some distant point in time.”

I read over my words, holding the letter in my hands.

“They are, by far, the most intricate and detailed dreams I’ve ever had. Usually, I don’t remember them. But these…these feel too real, too specific, too thought out to be anything except something akin to memories of a bygone era.”

I recall a few of them with some difficulty. That was always how dreams worked, like trying to grab mist with your bare hands and having nothing tangible left as evidence.

“Shall I confess?

They have now become a source of entertainment for me, having increasingly rooted themselves in my mind, to the extent that I find myself looking forward to (for lack of better phrasing) the ‘next installment’.

It’s bizarre, I’ll admit. How eager I am to get to sleep as soon as the clock shifts from afternoon to evening, when the hour hand turns to six and I wonder if I’ll see him again…”

as you slowly float back up to the surface, the first sound that hits you is the singing of birds. their bright and cheerful chirps filter in with a hint of irony. though they're pleasant, quietened by the curtains hanging over the windows, it means that it's still rather early.

there's a chill in the air and you turn over under your duvet, tucking your feet in further towards your knees, eager to keep the warmth on your skin. and yet, you open your eyes, not needing to blink any sleep from them. oddly enough, you're more awake than you'd thought. whatever dream you'd been having is far from your mind as you bask in the scattered sunlight dancing on your walls.

such serenity ignites a type of mild excitement in you. and with that in mind, you will yourself to get out of bed.

you draw back the curtains and glance outside, looking out at the landscape, where the sun is shyly peeking over the hill. dawn is only just breaking and as you open a window, a gust of wind greets you, sending a rush of floral scents your way.

you can place notes of rose and lavender, and maybe honeysuckle too. the scenery is beautiful, and you lean against the ledge to admire it. clear skies and waves of green, dotted here and there with reds and pinks and yellows. there's a calmness to the color and vibrancy. something you hadn't stopped to feel in a long time.

it stays in the background. while you pour yourself some tea and sit down for breakfast, and when you turn on the radio to the crooning of some ballad you can't quite place. and even as you set about doing the laundry, humming every now and then to a tune only you seem to know.

the basket you use is one you've weaved yourself (in an attempt to be impassioned by a new hobby). it's small and sturdy and it does the job. you wonder whether it'll last you, hoping that if it breaks, it'll at least do you the favor of waiting until it's empty.

though it doesn't take long, you're startled to see the sun in the sky as you step onto the gravel path, basket in hand. it seems to stare down at you and wink as clouds roll overhead, creating capering shadows on the field as you start hanging the wet quilts one by one.

a couple of bees follow you around as you go about your business. and when you stand still to breathe in the smell of freshly washed linen and admire the warm glow cast on those sheets by the light, a butterfly flutters past.

it brings with it the distant ring of a bicycle bell. you look to the east where a man in uniform comes riding up the hill and the smile on your face could bring shame to the flowers lying near your feet.

"good morning", he says, slowing and stopping a foot or two away from you. he tilts his cap and you note the way in which his fringe barely covers his right eye.

"good morning", you reply. "it must be exhausting having to make that trip every day."

he laughs. it's sweet.

"i don't really mind."

in his hand he carries a metal basket and neatly arranged inside are six glass bottles full of milk.

"how many would you like today?", he asks, and you have the urge to tell him you'll take everything he has to offer. but of course, you don't say this aloud.

"just the one, please."

as he picks up one of the bottles to give to you, you swallow your spit and gesture towards your house. the shadows continue to dance above it, making it seem fluid despite its usual rigidity.

"can i get you something to drink? a coffee, perhaps?"

he appears taken aback, eyes widening a fraction before he smiles, and you feel your heart leap into your throat.

"i'd like that very much. a coffee sounds great."

you momentarily freeze, having expected him to refuse your offer. and then you're taking the bottle of milk and your basket back inside as he follows after you. you turn back to him as he enters and the sheets you'd hung flail slightly behind him, almost like a set of wings.

"cream and sugar?"

"um, no. but could i trouble you for some ice?"

an iced americano, you think. placing your basket on the floor and leaving your bottle on the kitchen counter, you busy yourself with preparing his beverage.

"my name is belphegor, by the way. i think you should at least know who it is that's been delivering you your milk."

you pause, having taken a mug out of the cupboard, and meet his gaze. his tone sounds a little indignant. were you simply being sensitive?

"it's a pleasure to officially meet you, belphegor."

the both of you exchange a shared laugh (the sudden bit of formality is embarrassing). he's the first to look away, breaking the eye contact that has goosebumps erupt on your skin. hm, perhaps you were overthinking things. only, the problem is that you're not sure you have any ice in the fridge.

"were you listening to music?"

"yes- oh", you say, confused at the static that greets you. "the program must've finished."

he glances at the radio and then at you. in your bid to locate the instant coffee you have, you don't notice.

through a strange coincidence, you find it sitting pretty on the top-most shelf of the pantry. you frown, wondering if you'd placed it there by mistake.

belphegor is about to open his mouth to speak again when he sees you reach upwards, fingers brushing across the jar mere centimeters out of your grasp. you're on your toes, leaning forward, barely balancing as you try your hardest to take it.

the man remains silent, watching you with a detached type of curiosity.

darn shelves, you think, as you stretch as far as you're physically able. still, the glass slips from between your fingers and you resort to stepping on a sack of flour. right as you grab it, the corner of the sack slides out from underneath your foot and you gasp, knowing all too well how this was going to end.

but there's a hand on your shoulder and a solid chest against your back, and a pleasant voice in your ear that suggests otherwise.

"so much trouble for a coffee."

his breath tickles the nape of your neck and you twist around to thank him, unprepared for the amused expression painting his face. from here, you can see every freckle, every eyelash, and every stray hair left untamed by his cap.

"you okay?", he asks, too close and quiet. too intimate that you forget yourself for a second.

"i'm...i'm fine."

those furrowed brows of his make you think twice and you place a hand to his chest, marveling in its warmth. you can feel his heart beat. it's steady, unfazed by whatever silly accident had happened just now.

"thanks", you mutter, swiftly removing yourself from his arms (firm and inviting). "i'll uhh...i'll make your iced americano, shall i?"

he doesn't say anything as you take a spoon and measure out the ground powder. and the silence lingers as you bring a pot of water to the boil. your thoughts, however, are that much louder, that much more pronounced. you were never one to invite strangers into your home. why was he such an exception?

"you can stop staring."

belphegor chuckles and you hate the fact that you can't ignore it. his laughter, it twinkles, and it has you looking at him all over again.

"i was keeping an eye out for you. in case you decide to make a habit of falling while i'm here."

you scoff, opening the fridge door to remove the ice tray. six cubes blink up at you and you ease three out, popping them into his mug in rapid succession. it's a tad violent and some of the coffee sloshes out onto the counter.

"thank you for your concern. but it's really not necessary."

he walks towards you, and you remain fixed on his bowtie, hoping to avoid being trapped by his alluring purple irises.

"if you say so."

and he takes a sip. and you find a cloth to wipe the spilt coffee with.

"it tastes good", he says. "maybe i should ask you to make me one every morning."

"tough luck", you reply, glancing at him as you clean. "i'm afraid this is the last of my hospitality."

besides, you didn't have it in you to continue acting an utter fool around him. something about his self-assuredness serves as the antithesis to your nervous energy, fueling it further to the point that you're doubtful about whether he'll return tomorrow.

"is that any way to talk to your knight in shining armor?"

oh. nevermind. that question makes you want to slap the handsome smirk off his face.

you give one last swipe of the counter, as if to stand your ground, and straighten up. yet it only leads to disaster.

the lonesome bottle of milk that you'd put atop it, comes crashing down onto the tiles, spraying its contents along every surface and scattering glass shards in its wake. the knot in your stomach tightens and you refuse to acknowledge the man who hasn't budged an inch.

he clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

"what am i going to do with you?"

as you stoop down to gather the glass, he mirrors you.

"i can-"

"it'll be faster with the two of us."

apparently, it's your turn to watch him. you slow your movements as you focus on his hands, how meticulously they pick up each broken shard and how conflicted you feel about him doing as such. in your daze, the edge of a particularly sharp fragment digs into your thumb and you flinch.

"fuck-"

he reacts before you do, tossing the glass he's holding into the bin and taking your hand in his to help you remove the fragment.

"this might sting", he mutters. that was the last thing on your mind. did this man have no sense of personal space?

the fragment is tossed out with the rest of what used to be the bottle and you're about to reluctantly thank him for a second time until he's bringing your thumb up to his mouth.

"wh- what are you doing?"

he suckles gently on the cut, putting a stop to the bleeding, and you're rendered speechless. when he speaks, all you can think about is his lips.

"can't you be more careful?"

"not with you here, no", you say, finally admitting to the reality that was beginning to suffocate you. you can't pay attention to anything other than him.

"figured it out, have you?"

"figured what out...?", you ask, leaning in as his voice drops to a whisper.

"you have a crush on me."

you stare, perplexed, and you tear your eyes away from his mouth to look at him. there's a secret lingering in his facade. of words unspoken and confessions kept hidden. what does he know?

"prove it", you mumble, perfectly aware of how ridiculous a demand that was.

except he obliges, closing the gap between the both of you and meeting your lips with his own. they're soft and as you snake your hands around his neck, his cap comes loose, falling to join the mess on the floor.

neither of you care to address it and he pulls you back up, hugging you to his front and wrapping his arms around you. it's intoxicating. bitterness lingers on his tongue and there's the faint taste of cigarettes. but you're kissing him like someone starved. or perhaps someone parched.

sparks fly beneath your eyelids and rouge caresses your cheeks. (or was it the ghost of his palm against them?)

there's a need, an intensity to the way he grips you and the way clenches his jaw when you tug at his hair. you match him blow for blow, digging your nails into his shoulder and moaning softly into the kiss.

when you part and rest your forehead against his, you're not the only one who's out of breath.

"belphie", you whisper and the look on his face is a mystery in itself – surprise and longing, haphazardly hidden behind a mask of indifference.

"thank god i brought another five bottles with me, huh?"

#yeah move along it's another belphie piece shut up #obey me au #obey me writing #obey me fluff #obey me belphegor #obey me! belphegor #belphegor x reader #belphegor x gn reader #my writing 🐇

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twstoric · 4 years

Text

shrouded in ambers

Jamil Viper Birthday Special!

𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: jamil viper x f!reader

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: when you’re always crawling to be on the good graces of the al-asim family, there’s only one obstacle standing in your way—the loyal servant directly under the first prince himself

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘(𝕤): hate-sex?, non consensual touching (minor), slightly dub-con, cunnilingus, high sexual tension, semi-public sex, enemies to..?, servant!reader, slight au!

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2.7k

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: grrr going feral for birthday boy jamil is great <3 and i apologise for any mistakes/typing erros—i was too lazy to proofread whoops-

Having a smile plastered on your face is a custom in the life you live. Many people warm up much quicker to a seemingly kinder face than a gruff feature—you’re not sure of the detail but you get better responses from doing the former.

You have a kind smile, you’re told often followed with your usual response of I just enjoy what I do, is all. That kindness of yours has taken you to great heights.

You’re adored by the Al-Asim family; trusted with tending to the younger family members and adjusting their troubles. You’ve climbed up the ranks in a silent hierarchy of servants through years of patience and endurance—you’re not going to allow yourself to fall into a life of poverty just because of a minor slip up.

Then again, becoming a trusted maidservant of the Al-Asim family, one so close to the royal family themselves and not just for cleaning services, can be a difficult feat to acquire. Especially if you’re not from a line of family that’s been in service to them for generations. No, you were taken in from the slums and going back isn’t an option you’d want to make.

You want a much higher pedestal. Somewhere you know they wouldn’t be able to get rid of you so easily if you slipped up just a bit because acting perfect on a day to day basis can be so tiring. It’s taken off more years in your life than any disease you know of.

The plan is simple: appeal to the higher ranking family members and you’re fine. The only problem is that the job you desire is already occupied—by someone you might as well consider as the devil incarnate.

“I see you still have the tendency to daydream,” Jamil’s voice is soft when he speaks, the meaning behind his words contrasting to the smooth timbre of his vocals and you have to hold back a glare when turning to him.

The smile you offer comes naturally to you—trained to stretch on your lips at any given moment as you give the long-haired male a small bow. “Mister Viper. What a surprise.. are you not tending to the First Prince?” Your fingers are clasped together over your maids outfit, then thin material worn out from years of daily use but you take pride in maintaining the smooth white colour the dress comes in.

Jamil’s face remains neutral, staring at you as if looking for your inner demons before he turns around. “I shall take my leave,” he utters, never losing the cool edge to his voice and you keep the smile on your face until his footsteps are no longer heard.

When the silence once again envelops your surroundings, you can’t help the quiet huff you let out. Unbelievable, you think. Who does he think he is? He’s never liked you since the day you came and you’re not even sure why! Trying to befriend him is useless and acting polite towards him because he’s higher ranked than you gives you headaches. It’s almost too cruel how the irony of your desires is blocked by the single entity that makes your blood boil.

Coming yourself with another hiff, you straighten your back, fingers smoothing out the wrinkles in your dress before you take the tray of tea in your hands. Time to go back to work.

‎ﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌﻌ

In life, too many complaints won’t get you anywhere—you know at least this much but again, for the umpetenth time, you can’t help the growing feeling of annoyance brewing up inside you whenever you’re called up to do something in ungodly hours.

You’ve never had the best personality behind closed doors, afterall. So you’ll quietly complain whenever it's necessary (in your mind, of course. The risk of being overheard makes you paranoid).

The kitchen of the royal palace is spacious, stretching wide to accommodate the source of all the luxurious meals always prepared during occasions formal or not. It’s located in the further areas of the palace as any kitchen normally so as to make sure the smell of cooking food wouldn't stink up the area too much.

Because of its location, you find yourself walking quite the distance from your chambers and into an already dark kitchen. You can’t turn on the lights pass curfew so a small candle is your company as you prepare to boil water for the tea requested.

The day had been much more hectic than usual. You can’t remember all the details when you’re one of the servants running around the palace to get everything done. It’s preparation for another event. That much you’re sure of but what type you don’t think you really care for the details.

Fatigue and lack of sleep seems to be catching up to you. You find it difficult to keep your eyes open, resorting to pinching your arms to make sure the slight pain can keep you up and about. Too deep in your sense of tiredness, it takes a second for you to realise that the candle you’ve lit is already blown out—the fire from the stove your only source of lighting.

“Wh-? Ahh, shit, shit,” curses flow out of your mouth profusely, hurriedly reaching inside your dress pocket for a lighter. You’re not sure if it’s because of your fatigue, the chilly air, or even because of how dark it is but you’re fumbling with the match box, struggling to even open it in your panicked state.

Just before you could properly light the match, the candle burns again with a new fire; the small flame used to light it aflame disappears with a shake of the hand. You stare unblinkingly at your newly lit candle, and as if slow motion, you trail up the hand near the small fire to find the familiar face of the First Prince’s personal servant.

“Mister.. Viper,” you greet, unsettled by his sudden appearance. You don’t think you even heard him come in let alone get so close to you like this. Were you so out of it that you weren’t able to hear anything…?

“What’re you doing in the kitchen so late at night?” Jamil gets to the point, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head questioningly.

Your mouth opens and closes in response, mind blanking on how you should reply. “Um.. I was requested to make tea for..” Somehow, Jamil is moving closer to you, your vision going blurry before it only fills with the sight of him. “What- what’re you doing?”

Your breath hitches, the small of your back already pressing against the edge of the counter and Jamil places his hands behind you, trapping you between his arms. He leans closer.

“There’s an intruder trying to break into the castle,” he whispers, lips brushing against your ears and your face burns. Jamil does nothing after that. He doesn’t move away, doesn’t speak another word—his lips faintly brushes against your ears each time you breathe, your senses only filled with the warmth of Jamil’s body and how you can smell the strong scent of spices pressed so close to him like this.

“I don’t… Why are you telling me this?” All you can do is question back, lost on what he’s implying ang you tense when feeling his hand settling on your hip, pressing you harder against the counter.

There’s something so… primal and raw in the way Jamil is touching you. His fingers hold your firmly in a soft pressure that if you weren’t so hyper aware of where his hands are, you wouldn’t notice that he’s already touching you.

Jamil moves back enough to look at you, his other hand lifting from the counter to grasp your chin so you’re forced to look at him properly. “I believe that intruder is already inside,” he murmurs and you see something glinting in his eyes. Suddenly, his grip on you tightens, pulling your chin roughly towards him and his voice is firmer, “What’re you doing in the kitchen?”

You feel a sudden anger flaring in your chest. “Are you accusing me, Mister Viper?” You can’t help but spit out, glaring at him openly. “I already told you- I’m making tea.”

Jamil smirks in response, uncaring of your sudden attitude as he lets you go. The male turns off the stove, your protest ignored as he turns to you again, leaning against the table from across you. “On whose orders are you making it for?”

“That’s-” the bite in your throat suddenly disappears. You blink in irritation before an unsettling feeling brews in your stomach. From who.. that’s... Of course it would be from one of the younger children, wouldn’t it..? But for them to stay up this late then.. the First Prince? But that would be Jamil’s responsibility—not yours.

You bite your lip, brows furrowing for a different reason now; confusion. “It was from a note,” your voice is quiet when you say this, gaze darting to the floor to avoid the smug look on the other’s face at your confession. How could you have not realised..?

Jamil takes quick strides over to you and before you know it, he’s turning you around and roughly pushing you down on the counter. You yelp, hands shooting out to soften the impact as Jamil presses his chest over your back. “Aren’t you too trusting… or maybe.. You’re an accomplice of this intruder?”

What.

“That’s- that’s-! Of course not!” You feel the shudder raking down your spine at the low hum Jamil makes from your words. Your face burns with humiliation, tears springing up to your eyes for a reason beyond you; you’re cursing Jamil to hell for all this.

“Why should I trust you? I’ve always found your sudden climb in ranks to be a little odd,” he sighs and the snarky remark you had disappears when you feel something hard pressing against your behind. The outline of Jamil’s growing erection presses against the thin material of your dress, slow languid rolls of his hips makes your body burn.

You’re quiet now; distracted by the way the brunet is rutting against you. Jamil is a difficult person for you to tolerate but you can’t deny how attractive he is. “So quiet suddenly?” And you want to curse the skies why he was given such an attractive voice.

His hold on you eases before there’s no longer any pressure holding you down. You get up slowly, pushing yourself up by the elbows and turning your head to see that Jamil has already moved some distance away from you. The neutral look he normally has is back.

You think your heart might explode. He can’t just- do that and act like nothing happened..! There’s no words you can think of—verbal communication suddenly beyond you. All you can do is clutch at your dress weakly, your pussy feeling so empty and uncomfortably wet.

“I can…” you gulp, voice hoarse and Jamil raises a brow in question. “I can help.. find the real intruder.” Your chest feels so fucking heavy now, the bruning heat in your body clouding all common sense. “To prove my innocence.” You add quickly as an afterthought, because you’re not doing this for him.

A small laugh leaves the latter’s mouth in response and you feel your brow twitch. “You’re a difficult person to deal with.”

Wha..?

Jamil pushes himself off the table, once again trapping you between his arms but you feel much calmer than before. The candle burning as your only source of light seems to emphasise the brunet’s features. Eyes slanted and shaped like a predator stares at you hungrily and feels natural for you to draw closer to him when Jamil leans over. “Always having a smile on your face when you’re clearly annoyed. Why are you so insistent on putting up a mask?”

His breath ghosts over your lips, body pressing close to you as if you weren’t close enough. You look into his eyes; searching for something and smiling when you find it. “Should I say the same to you?”

The simple questions snaps whatever tension you’re in and Jamil crashes his lips to yours, prying your mouth open with his tongue and slithering in when you give him access. His hands wrap around your back, trailing down over your ass and squeezing you with greedy hands.

You moan in response, pulling him closer by wrapping your hands around his neck and rolling your hips against the hard tent in his pants. Jamil groans softly, breaking the kiss to trail kisses down your jaw to your neck. His fingers tug the front of your dress down, the cotton tearing slightly from his rough ministrations but you don’t care about that when his lips reaches the skin above your breasts, marking you with love bites and easing the pain with the slow drag of his tongue.

Much to your disappointment, Jamil doesn’t pull your dress any further down, instead, he’s the one getting on his knees; his hands trailing up your legs and hiking your dress along with it. Your dress settles over your hips, held by his hands as Jamil nudges your legs apart to trail kisses up your inner thigh.

You’re clenching around nothing, small gasps leaving your lips at every mark Jamil leaves with every inch closer to your aching core. “Please,” you can’t help but whine, tangling your hands in his hair. You feel Jamil smirk against your skin.

He pushes your undergarment to the side and your vision goes white from the first slow drag of Jamil’s tongue against your weeping cunt. The taste of you on his tongue makes Jamil feral—harsh strokes of his tongue against your outer lips before his mouth sucks and he’s eating you out like an animal.

You’re struggling to keep your moans in, legs shaking with every suction of Jamil’s mouth on your core, greedily tasting every inch you can offer him. His hold on your thighs are brutal; not allowing you to close your legs. Your dress is no longer held up by his hands and falls over the male’s head, hiding him from view.

You’re biting at your hands to keep your sounds in. It’s already so late at night and despite your location being in the further areas of the palace, if anyone were to walk in the kitchen then the first thing they’ll see is you, writhing and crying from a reason beyond them, Jamil hidden away behind a table and under your dress.

“A- ah-!” The yelp you let out echoes in the kitchen. You’re mortified by the sound but it’s only a second later that you're moaning again. Jamil’s fingers curl once again, dragging against your walls deliciously. His touch is gently, easily finding all the right buttons to push without too much prying as his mouth focuses on your clit.

You whisper his name quietly, the only thing you can think of saying and it seems to spur the brunet to fuck his finger’s into you, easily finding your good spots and you’re coming with a strangled shout.

You don’t get to register how Jamil greedily sucks off your juices, throwing you into the edge of overstimulation before he finally pulls away; pushing your dress over his head. The blood rushes to your face, gaping at the way Jamil swiped his tongue over his lips as if to collect your juices and your squeak when the male suddenly pulls you into a kiss.

When you break away, Jamil is smirking at you handsomely, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Should we get started then?” You nod absentmindedly, blinking at the satisfied smile Jamil gives you. “Then we’ll start with the main entrance. I think that’s most likely where they entered from because of the hectic preparations.”

“What?” You can’t help but ask dumbly.

The laugh Jamil lets out makes you feel both warm and irritated. His eyes narrow when he looks at you but the smile on his face is still present. “I see.. Did you want to continue?” You can’t answer. Jamil smirks.

He takes your wrist and you’re frozen in his stare as Jamil guides your hand to his erection. The hardness in your palm makes your mouth water and thighs clench uselessly as Jamil blinks his eyes slowly. “Don’t worry,” he reassures, pressing your hand harder against his clothed dick and groaning at the pressure. “Should we be able to catch the intruder then I’ll be sure to reward you.”

#jamil viper #scarabia #jamil x reader #twst x reader #twst n/sfw #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twisted wonderland #f!reader #specially brewed

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retrievablememories · 4 years

Text

baby of mine | johnny

title: baby of mine pairing: johnny x black!reader genre: angst, some fluff request: “Can I request a Johnny and his wife fighting because his ex came to them saying she’s pregnant because when she and Johnny were dating they had been trying for a baby and then they broke up. He met his black wife and got married a year later and now his ex is pregnant making his wife upset and feeling like a side chick instead of his wife. Thank you” word count: 3.5k warnings: mentions of infidelity, some racial microaggressions, mentions of racism, talk of conceiving a/n: did not have the heart to make my mans a cheater so i went with the 2nd plot point i suggested for this request lol, if you want something different let me know anon

As you’re cooking breakfast one morning, Johnny comes up to you and hugs you from the back, wrapping his arms around your torso. One of his hands settles on your stomach as he does so.

“Good morning, dear wife,” he mumbles, still a bit sleepy. He presses his cheek to yours. His skin is warm from being underneath the covers all night, and the strands of his soft hair tickle your face.

“Morning, baby.”

You think he’s gonna go sit at the table after he gets his usual morning hug, but he keeps clinging to you and subtly pressing his body against yours. Raising your eyebrows, you have to ask. “What are you up to, Johnny?”

“Nothin’ much,” he answers, “just wondering when you’re gonna let me put a baby in you.”

You turn to look at him, feigning shock. “God, it’s so early in the morning and you come to me with this. At least let me finish the food...” You laugh, embarrassed but also lowkey delighted at his comment.

“Oh, you love it though. You’ll love it even more when we actually start trying.”

“Well, it’s not like I don’t already.” You snort. “Stop being horny and go sit at the table, though. I don’t need you making me burn this food.” You try to shoo him with your free hand, though he only takes that hand so he can lay a kiss on the back of it.

“I always aim to please.” Johnny snickers, taking a piece of bacon off the plate on the counter.

You’ve only been married for a year at this point, but this kind of playful banter about having kids and building a family together is not unfamiliar to you. Johnny is definitely the type of man who’s always dreamed about having a family of his own, and he’s not secretive about it. With so much love to give, he’s more than eager to shower it on the people closest to him.

Jaehyun and his girlfriend have just had their first kid, which has only stoked Johnny’s enthusiasm, but you’re still waiting for a time when you feel truly ready to take that leap. After all, having kids is no easy matter, and the last thing you want to do is jump into it without a clue. Johnny is fine with waiting for however long you want, though there are undoubtedly some times when you wish you could be more responsive to it.

Still, you are ultimately happy with your marriage and are looking forward to the day when you can finally add a new member to the family.

There’s a knock on the door one evening, and you wonder who it must be. You weren’t expecting anyone today, and neither was Johnny—that you know of. You go to the door and peek through the peephole, and you’re even more confused at what you see.

When you open the door, a woman is standing there with a baby carrier and a diaper bag. It’s not just any woman, though—it’s Johnny’s ex-girlfriend, Jihyun. The one he dated before meeting and marrying you.

You both stare at each other in silence for a few moments. You’re so surprised by her presence at your doorstep and the baby carrier she has that you forget to ask what she’s here for—and she seems equally shocked to see you.

Finally, Jihyun appears to remember what she came for and asks, “H-hi, does John Suh live here?”

“Yes...why?”

“There are some things we need to talk about…” Her eyes drift to the baby carrier, and your whole world pauses.

“Things?”

As if on cue, Johnny comes up behind you with a concerned look on his face, recognizing the sound of his ex’s voice. He stops in his tracks a little ways from the entrance when he sees what she’s brought along with her. “Jihyun? What are you doing here?”

Her expression when she sees him is hard to read, though a nervous energy radiates from her. Her nervousness seems to transfer to you, and the back of your neck prickles with sweat. “John...um, hi, I just needed to talk to you--” Her words break off as she struggles to think of what to say. “I’m sorry to spring this on you like this, but we have to talk about our child.”

You and Johnny both speak at the same time.

“What?”

“Our child?”

You’re completely frozen now, and Johnny slides in beside you, opening the door wider. “Jihyun, this isn’t funny. Don’t come here with this shit—”

“I-it’s not a joke.” She reaches in the diaper bag hastily and pulls out a manila envelope. “I thought you’d ask about this, so I got a paternity test.”

Johnny takes the folder from her and opens it to look at the papers inside, but he’s clearly not pleased. “You thought? I’m sure.” You already knew that Jihyun had cheated on him; it was something he told you near the start of your relationship. They were trying to start a family around the time he found out, which made the blow all the more painful for him.

Back then, you didn’t give much thought to the idea that they actually might’ve been successful. They never contacted each other again after breaking up, and you reasoned that she would have reached out if she was ever pregnant.

Apparently, life is never that simple or easy.

You’re still unsure how to respond to any of this. Even if you wanted to react, you’re still too shocked to do anything but stand there and wait for Johnny’s response.

Unfortunately, his reaction doesn’t make you feel any more reassured. He’s quiet for a while as he looks at the papers, and he seems to age 5 years in just that timespan. He presses his lips together into a thin line, his forehead creasing.

Finally, he hands the papers to you and looks at Jihyun. You almost drop them in your rush to read what they say, but the answer is incredibly clear. A baby girl named Youngmi, with a 99.9% DNA match. “We do need to talk.”

The atmosphere in the living room is tense and awkward. You and Johnny sit on the couch while Jihyun sits on the other sofa in front of you, the baby carrier beside her. It’s been covered the entire time, and you still don’t have a clue what the baby looks like. The rational part of you figures she must be sleeping, although there is the undeniably petty part that suspects there is no baby and this is all a setup.

“How did you even find me?” Johnny asks, not very thrilled at Jihyun now knowing his new address.

“A mutual friend told me.” She doesn’t expand on who gave the information, which makes you raise your eyebrows. “They told me you’d gotten married, too. But they never mentioned that your wife was…?” Jihyun looks at you curiously, and you feel put on the spot like an object. It’s the elephant in the room that never fails to make itself known—why did you marry a black woman?

“Was what?”

“Jihyun, don’t do this. You’re already walking a thin line. I didn’t let you come in here for this.” Johnny already knows that it isn’t hard for you to reach your breaking point, and he hopes this won’t go completely left before he gets answers. He still needs to figure out what the hell is going on.

You throw in for good measure, “You aren’t going to come in my house and disrespect me. Check yourself.”

Jihyun is taken aback at being reprimanded by both of you and turns a little pale at being called out for her rudeness. “U-um, of course, sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

If you didn’t mean it you wouldn't have said it, you think to yourself, still stewing with anger.

“Explain all of this,” Johnny says. His tone makes it clear that it’s not a request.

Jihyun takes a moment to get herself together and starts speaking again. “Well, you know how our relationship ended. I found out I was pregnant soon after that, but…” Her hands fidget in her lap. “I didn’t want to say anything because I thought...you were really angry back then, Johnny. I thought you’d hate me even more than you already did. Or wouldn’t accept the baby anymore.”

Johnny’s shoulders slump a little. “You didn’t think I would want my own child?” He is clearly hurt by the idea of this.

“I don’t think I have the right to blame you for being angry. I was wrong. But I didn’t want to make things worse. I really believed it would just be better to start all over and raise the baby myself.” Her eyes stay glued to the floor as she says, “I...wasn’t entirely sure if it was yours, either, so I decided not to tell you.”

Johnny’s body tenses at the mention of her transgression, though he doesn’t speak. He merely sits and waits for her to continue talking.

“I thought I could do it all on my own, and it would be fine. The other guy...he left soon after I told him. Then the baby got here, and...none of it’s been easy, but I really have been struggling these past few months.” Jihyun looks up at him now, a pleading expression on her face. “I would rather not have to ask you for child support, but...I need some help, Johnny. And I’m truly sorry I kept this from you.”

Johnny puts his head in his hands and runs his fingers through his hair, looking distressed and overwhelmed by all of this being unloaded on him at once. “This has come practically out of nowhere, Jihyun.”

She appears to take offense to that particular statement; maybe she thinks he’s referring to the baby that way. “I don’t know if I’d call it out of nowhere. We both knew the possibilities when we were trying for a child.”

“You can’t be serious,” you blurt out, laughing out loud although it’s not really funny. You’re more astounded than amused at the irony and ridiculousness of her saying that. Jihyun glances at you unhappily, though she doesn’t meet your glare for very long.

Johnny is equally bristled by her words, and you can feel him tensing up more beside you. “And you could’ve thought about that before fucking another man and then hiding my own child from me—”

The conversation is interrupted by Youngmi, who has apparently woken up and is now whining for attention. You can see her little feet kicking against the cover of the carrier. Jihyun hurriedly turns the carrier around to put the cover down and pull the child out. She looks to be around 9 months.

Youngmi is quickly quieted by being fed her bottle. Her eyes are big with curiosity as she looks around the room—at Jihyun, Johnny, and you. Johnny’s anger at his ex becomes subdued after seeing the baby, and his mouth drops open a little in surprise.

Johnny finds himself unable to take his eyes away from Youngmi after Jihyun takes her out of the carrier, and he leans forward a bit to get a closer look. He’s secretly itching to get closer, though he isn’t quite sure how to bring that up after cursing his ex out. Fortunately for him, she already knows what he wants. After the baby is done drinking, she carefully offers, “Do...you want to hold her?”

You watch to see what Johnny will do. You know he very well won’t refuse his own child, and you don’t expect him to, but you also don’t know how you should feel. He glances at you somewhat apologetically, sensing your unhappiness, but nods and holds his arms out for Youngmi. Jihyun settles the baby in his arms when he does.

Youngmi doesn’t start crying in the presence of an unfamiliar person like most babies do; maybe she somehow knows he’s her father. You almost want to laugh again at that, feeling like you’re going to lose your mind.

Johnny looks down at his daughter’s face as she drools and clenches and unclenches her small fists. She’s smiling as she looks up at him, though you don’t know if that’s because she’s happy at just being fed.

Something in Johnny’s heart immediately softens, and he feels himself drawn to her. Even without the paternity results, he can certainly tell that she has his same bow-shaped lips.

In any other circumstance you would’ve felt moved by this interaction, but now you only experience the creeping dread of being replaced. Not by the baby, but by Jihyun. What if she’s suddenly at your house all the time after they decide to co-parent? That can’t happen. You can’t tolerate having this woman up in your house on a regular basis, but letting Johnny spend a bunch of time at her place is completely out of the question. You know he hasn’t wanted anything to do with her since they broke up, but you can’t get rid of the fear of what could happen if Johnny gets close to her again.

You try to convince yourself there is no way he’d ever consider going back to her after she betrayed him. Your doubts are killing you, though. Jihyun has already given him the one thing he’s always wanted most, and you suddenly feel very abandoned and empty. Almost like their relationship never ended and you’re simply trespassing.

“She’s very pretty,” Johnny says, smiling down at the little girl.

Your heart is being torn to shreds. “Sorry, I—uh, forgot something.” Without looking for their reactions, you get up from the couch and go up to the bedroom you share with Johnny. There, you sink to the floor and stay there for what feels like hours, your forehead against the carpet as you struggle to gather your thoughts.

You don’t know how much time actually passes, and you know Johnny must be wondering what you’re doing, but he eventually comes up after you. By then, you’ve gathered yourself somewhat—at least physically—and are sitting on the bed.

Johnny stands in the doorway, looking hesitant, tired, concerned, and maybe even a little happy, all at once. He opens his mouth and then closes it back shut, searching for the right words. “I didn’t think...she never said anything…”

You still feel like you’re being pierced straight through. There’s no denying that you still love Johnny, but you don’t know where things can go from here. The only tiny bright spot you can find is that at least he didn’t cheat on you. A laugh of sick irony bursts out of you, and Johnny seems concerned about whether you’re having a mental breakdown.

He steps into the room, sitting beside you on the bed. You’re not sure if you want to be next to him right now—or if you want to accept the hand that’s reaching for your shoulder—so you stand up and walk aimlessly to the dresser. “Are they still downstairs?”

“No, I told her we can work out all the details soon...but that now wouldn’t be a good time to stay.”

Work out the details? Which means more contact. But that was going to happen anyway. Here come more thoughts of him at her place, her at yours, a little family that doesn’t include you—

“But how are you going to get in contact with each other?”

“...I gave her my number.” Johnny is hesitant, like he thinks this maybe isn’t the right answer. Or at least not the one you want to hear. “There wasn’t much else I could do…and I doubt you want her coming back up here anytime soon.”

You don’t think very deeply about the repercussions of what you say next; you’re too consumed by your panicked thoughts. “Maybe we should separate.”

Johnny stands up now too, his eyes almost comically big. “Separate?”

You throw your hands up. “You were with her long before me, and now you have a baby with her. Surprise! What’s stopping me from being the lonely sidechick in this scenario? A stupid ring?”

Johnny looks wounded at that, and you wonder how much more pain will be inflicted on both of you before the day is over. “Our marriage is more than a ‘stupid ring’ or a slip of paper. You told me you loved that ring.”

“I did, and I do, but what does any of it matter anymore?”

“Aren’t you being overdramatic?! Do you truly think I’d leave you over this?” Johnny can feel himself getting more upset, though he tries not to shout. “It’s not like I can’t co-parent with her or something. I’m not going to leave you so I can raise my child.”

“And have you both together all the time. Yeah, that sounds like a wonderful setup.”

“You seem to be forgetting that I barely want to be around her myself! Either way, Youngmi is my child Y/N, I can’t just give up on her and I don’t intend to.”

You dig your heels in, feeling like you’ve made your case and can’t turn back now, even if there is logic to what he’s saying. “Would you even still want to have children with me? You have the baby you’ve always wanted. And your ex seems like the type who wouldn’t be too thrilled if her child had some half-black siblings running around.”

“That’s terrible, Y/N. Just because I have one child doesn’t mean I can’t have more. You sound more like you don’t want to have kids with me anymore.”

“Don’t tell me that!” you shout. “I want everything with you, but you don’t see how people look at me. You’re not the one who has to deal with people thinking you’re unworthy to be with me or that I did you a favor by marrying you. No, that’s what people think of me, all the time, whether they say it or not. It’s in the things they do and how they interact with me.”

Johnny wants to speak, but he doesn’t know what to say to you. It’s not like he’s been completely unaware of your struggles, but he hasn’t heard you articulate it out loud like this before. It makes him feel like a bit of a failure that he couldn’t prevent any of it from happening.

“I just want us to be happy together, with our own family, and—and...I want people to stop looking at me like I’m some damn freak, and…” You pause for a moment to catch your breath, though you find that you can’t as tears begin welling up in your eyes.

Johnny comes closer to you when he sees the tears appearing. He hesitates to touch you, thinking you might reject him again, but when you don’t move away he takes your arms.

“Y/N, please trust me. We are going to stay together, and we’re gonna have the life we both want. I need both you and my child, and I promise we can make this work.”

“Do you think we got married too soon?” you ask him quietly. You haven’t pushed him away this time, but you’re hesitant to respond to his embrace. “Should we have done this at all?”

Johnny puts his forehead to yours, squeezing you tighter as if he could wring the pain out of you. “Don’t doubt this, please. I don’t regret any of this, not for a second.”

��I don’t regret marrying you, either, but I’m just...exhausted. I don’t know how any of this is supposed to work anymore.” A few tears slip out as you say this. You wipe them away as they come, but it isn’t enough to stop the flow. Johnny uses his thumb to wipe them away. His fingers are warm against your skin, like that morning a few days ago.

“Honestly, Y/N, I don’t know either. But we can figure this out.”

You want so much to believe him.

That night when you go to bed, your head is filled with thoughts—so many that it’s hard to get to sleep. You stare at the closed window with the night sky peeking slightly through the blinds, and you try to imagine a future with both of your families in it.

It doesn’t make you happy, but you don’t know what else to do to keep your marriage from falling apart.

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jd-loves-fiction · 3 years

Note

could you write a soulmate au drabble with agent whiskey or din? thank you <3

🌙 i made the reader female i hope that's alright 🥺 but i really enjoyed this idea :)) also this is a genuinely interesting idea to me that I'd love to expand on if y'all are ever interested on a full one shot or something ❤️

[16:10] "You really ain't gonna make this easy, are you, sweetheart?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder, cowboy!" You shout back to the man currently shooting at you, clutching the arm one of his bullets managed to graze.

“Just give up, darling!” Agent Whiskey tries again to coax you out of your hiding spot and into his arms.

You don’t answer, instead running out of your hiding spot and hoping that he’s turned away from you. He’s not.

The moment his eyes catch your form running from one cover to another, Whiskey reaches for his lasso, remembering to keep in on the non-lethal setting, per his boss’ order to bring you in alive.

The rope catches your ankle, throwing you off your feet and into the snow covered grow. You immediately try to stand again, which makes Whiskey give out a frustrated groan before he sends you hurling towards a nearby tree, knocking you out instantly. He feels a strange, harsh tug at his heart as he watches your limp body hit the ground.

"I'm sorry, sugar, I know that's gotta hurt." Jack throws you over his shoulder more gently than he usually does to enemies. He can't find a reason for it though.

You wake up what you assume is a few hours later, aching all over and groaning at the excessive amount of lights in your face.

You attempt to move your arms, only to find that they're tied to the chair you're sitting on.

You assume you're about to be interrogated, but the room you sit in would make you think otherwise in a different context.

The room is completely white, all the walls and the ceiling, even the floor. A large reflective window stares back at you. Or at least you think it's a window, could just be a big mirror. There's also a table with a chair in front of you and maybe if you try to knock it over you could-

The door opens and in steps the man who had chased you. You can see it even without turning your head, not wanting to show him how lost you are. But you do feel the need to scoff, purely due to the situation, and not due to something in you, as your heart feels weirdly tight in the man's presence.

He walks slowly towards the vacant chair in front of you, boots clicking against what you assume is something like concrete. You keep your head lowered as he sits, legs spread while he has an arm on top of the chair, clearly meaning to establish some sort of superiority, but you won't have it. This is what you excel at.

The agent looks you over for a moment before taking off his hat and placing it on the table behind himself, exposing his curly brown hair that looks way too soft and his eyes bore into you with such intensity despite they're apparent softness-

"Are you comfortable?"

The question throws you off completely. What the hell?

You glare at the man after getting over your initial shock, figuring out that he's serious.

"Can I get you any--"

"Can you just get to the point?"

Whiskey blinks at your bluntness for a moment, before shaking his head. He looks back at you, meeting the fire in your eyes with the curiosity of his. Your fire wavers at the dept before you.

"Just tryin' to be polite, darling. I'm a gentleman, you see." The way he nods his head as he speaks let's you know he would've been tipping his hat in that moment if he hadn't taken it off.

"A gentleman, huh?" Your voice drips with mischievous intent at first, then with poison as you grow bitter while your back and head keep pounding as a reminder of how you got your ass handed to you. "Not very gentlemanly to hit a woman, is it?"

The unnamed agent leans back, seemingly to get away from the hostility you exude.

"I really am sorry, sugar. I do feel bad for it." Why though?

"But how about we start this again?" He offers amicably before you can comment on the absurdity of an agent being regretful of hitting their target. Woman or otherwise.

"You can call me Agent Whiskey. What can I call you, sweetheart?"

"Cola." The man is once again surprised, but also interested, by your answer. But he nods.

"Alright, Cola, who do you work for?" Jack doesn't expect a straight answer, it just doesn't happen. But you seem determined to surprise him.

"A woman named Poppy. That's all I know, it's all I've been told." You have to admit, that expression does look good on him. The wide eyes, raised brows, slightly parted lips.

"How is that all you know?" Jack swallows thickly as you adjust your position, leg brushing his and lighting a fire beneath his skin that he'd felt before when carrying you back to headquarters. Are you just always hot or-

That question answers itself, he thinks.

"Listen here, Agent," Your voice is silky smooth as you lower your volume, hoping to appear mellow and helpless. You know his type of guy and how they work. You also decide to pointedly ignore the stutter of your heart and the sudden heat on your cheeks at his close proximity when he moves, as expected, closer. "I don't work as one of her goons, or something. I'm a mercenary and I work for myself. So, yeah, that's all I know about my employer."

Regret settled on the pit of your stomach at your own callous tone. What are all these emotions, that feel yours but also distant, disconnected.

"Can you let me go now? I have work to do."

Agent Whiskey leans back once more, crossing his arms and sighing. This was much easier than he had pictured, given how hard you fought back when he attempted to capture you.

But he still needs to get some more answers out of you.

"Let's make a deal, shall we?"

"And why would I do that?" You sigh, rolling your eyes in exasperation.

"You wanna get out of here, right sugar?" He offers, lip curling just slightly into what looks like a cocky smile to you. Your blood still sings at the sight of it. "Plus, we can trade secrets."

Your brows furrow. What secrets could he possibly have that would interest you? Perhaps something negative about Poppy to try and get you to change sides.

"If it's about Poppy, save your breath. Whatever it is, I already know."

"Not quite." Jack comments, southern drawl dripping like honey before he moves his chair closer. You get distracted by his sweet voice before the scrapping of the metal chair breaks you out of your haze and you lean back and away from him. He seems apprehensive because of this, lowering the hand that had reached out to you.

"You ever wonder about that little symbol on your arm?"

You look down at the limb he points at, your upper arm, wrapped in a bandage which is stained red. "You mean the one you shot?"

"I already told you I'm-"

"Doesn't change shit. What are you implying?"

"It's unfinished, isn't it?"

"Why do you say that? Could just be a choice I made." You instantly turn defensive at what you interpret as a know-it-all tone. How can he be so sure he knows literally anything about you?

The irony of the fact that you feel as if you know everything about him, despite truthfully knowing nothing at all, isn't lost on you.

Jack begins shedding his dark blue suit jacket, placing it on the table behind him. He then starts rolling up his sleeve on the same arm as the one of yours he shot. You would've blushed if you weren't so interested in what he has to say.

A dark symbol is revealed on his tan skin, just as seemingly incomplete as yours. The ink shifts slightly, like moving mist, as the agent shuffles closer.

It looks almost like a still wet, watercolor painting. And you know that, on your arm, there's an identical symbol.

But you still motion for Whiskey to at least untie your one arm. He unties both, upon seeing that you had no intention of hitting him, at the moment. Your legs are still tied but that's not what you want to focus on.

You look at the dark ink on your arm, just below the bandage. It's bigger, larger than it's ever been before. And it matches his.

You slowly raise your arm, watching as he does the same. As you do, the symbols complete themselves just as slowly.

Until your palms meet his warm and rough ones and you're sure the images look whole now, but all you can look to is his deep brown eyes.

You feel the pull from before, tugging at your heartstrings and burning up your blood like dynamite, slowly waiting to explode in an outburst of affection you wish to avoid.

Slowly, carefully, as if approaching a wild animal, Jack intertwines his fingers with yours, squeezing in reassurance.

Poppy will be left waiting for your return for a long while.

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x y/n #jack daniels x female reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x y/n #agent whiskey x female reader #kingsman #statesmen

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littlefreya · 4 years

Text

The Way to Hell - Part 6

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Summary: Post Mi6 - August manages to escape with his face intact and just won himself the title of being the most dangerous man on earth. With every agent in the world on the hunt for him, life became a living hell, but that’s okay because hell is where he reigns.

Too bad for the woman who’ll stand in his way.

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) | August Walker x ofc Suzy

Word count: 5K

Warnings: Dark themes, rough oral sex, gagging, hinted anal, mentions of rough sex, and August twisted thoughts.

A/N: The adventures of August and Ingvild continue 💖 thanks again for reading and giving me your feedback, it keeps me fueled so keep it up :D! Of course thanks @agniavateira for editing my work and being my muse.

Title: Stargazer

The love boat sets sail through the icy water of the North Sea. The apostle, Knight_of_Cockn3ss, or whatever that kid’s name is, wasn’t joking when he mentioned a romantic cruise.

The traitorous sun hangs mid-sky as August trails across the deck. A beige fedora covers his dark curls and a matching cream-coloured suit over his sturdy body. In his right hand rests his laptop, he is not daring to leave it out of sight even for a minute. His eyes observe the surroundings; he must be the only single person on this trip, surrounded by timid couples on the verge of divorce and sugar daddies with their sugar babies.

‘At least the young girls are pretty.’ August greets a tall blonde, holding one hand behind his back and giving her a small bow before continuing on his way.

He’ll have to endure this trip for a couple more days, which isn’t ideal by any means, but he can’t risk getting caught or killed. Airports all over the world are swarming with security guards, agents, and assassins on really fucking high alert by now, all of them waiting for him.

The irony of the situation is that a long time ago used to be one of them. A wanted target on a scale of world catastrophe would spin a web of agents worldwide and Agent Walker would always get there first. That’s why they called him “The Hammer” - he nailed each target on the head, among other things.

No one cared about torture and extreme violence. He once brought back a target in such a dire condition that Erica was forced to send him to psych evaluation. He bluntly told the psychiatrist he enjoys the violence for no particular reason why, and then fucked her over the desk.

He scoffs at the memory, breaking into a wolfish grin.

Standing on the rail, his gaze is glued to the blue horizon, following the trail of sea-foam left by the boat as it slices through the water, disturbing the peaceful life beneath the sea. Slowly, his chaotic mind begins to drift, reveries of the CIA reminding him of her.

Golden locks of hair glow like hot sand on a summer day. Sweetly, she jokes about buying a yacht, telling Erica to fuck off so they can leave everything behind, and sail into freedom.

Memories are perfidious. Why has she been on his mind so much as of late? She’s been dead for years, flesh eaten by worms and the insects.

She is no more but a sack of rotting bones.

To condemn her memory is more than she deserves.

August’s nostrils flare. For whatever reason, his mind wanders to the girl who lived. Gently snorting, he shakes his head, remembering the condition of how he left ‘poor little’ Ingvild; half-naked, wrists tied up to the bed, probably crying to whatever father figure she has.

After what he did to her, she’ll probably retire from Icarus.

“I’m coming after you,” he mimics her voice in his head, and laughs while making his way toward the stack of beach lounge chairs. The section is nearly empty as most of the lovebirds are dinning in the main hall and unlike the degenerated visitors of this cruise, he is here solely on business.

Much work is left to be done. “Knight” has promised to meet him in London’s sky tower, suggesting he may or may not have a source of plutonium. Whether he’s a broker, a source, or a possible troll matters very little to a man on the run. Desperate times are ahead; he may be sticking his neck out, might be stepping into an obvious trap, but choice is scarce at the moment.

‘This is not the type of anarchy I dreamed of.’

That little girl, Ingvild, was the first to come. There will be others, endless more until the world will fall apart.

“I’ll keep coming after you.” Her voice hinges on his troubled mind.

He opens his laptop with a groan, trying to ignore the truth that lies on his mind like a pile of heavy brick.

‘You should have left her pretty face to die in the bottom of the lake.’

“Oh, but to miss out on all the fun that followed in that bedroom?” he speaks to himself quietly, unlocking his laptop with a retinal scan.

Luckily, his old drive is still accessible on the cloud he encrypted. Years of work and dirt collected on the CIA and the government nestles on a single server. The ugly truth, the lies, the corruptness. Thick and black like a pit filled of tar.

Erica Sloane has her own dedicated special folder. Personal vendetta was never on his agenda, it was never about revenge, it was about a cause but sweet Erica deserves whatever damnation he could think of. He hopes that when he detonates his nuclear bombs, that once this world falls apart, she’ll sit on a front-row seat to see her failures raining down like fire from the sky.

A vicious smirk paints his face as his fingertips slide onto the touchpad. August scans through his many folders, seeking a specific one regarding illegal weapon deals. It would be a lovely afternoon at the CIA had one of these recordings or documents would find their way to the public eye.

August slides the cursor around, entering one of the CIA’s subfolders when his smile fades away.

He thought he deleted her folder a long time ago, but it seems like mistakenly, he placed it in another section instead.

And now here it is. A name he thought he’d never see again: Lacey.

Strange, he hardly remembers what she looked like. How long has it been? Six? Seven years ago? In his dreams, she’s nothing but a rotting corpse, but the mind has a tendency to alter one’s memory, doesn’t it?

Was she even sweet at all?

‘Manipulation was her strongest trait anyway.’

Without mustering a mother breath, he deletes the folder, and proceeds to search for the files he means to leak. He muses if they caught up with the notion that it was him who poisoned the well this entire time. Years of stirring chaos while sitting with his laptop of his bed while Sloane and her high-ranking management freaked out and did all that’s in their power to cover shit up.

It was so hard to keep a poker face and pretend he is trying to help. One particular time, he got so ecstatic he had to go and jack off in the men’s room.

‘That was a good one.’

Something abruptly disturbs his attention, making his heart nearly drop.

‘It can’t be, is that...?’

A petite brunette passes through the lounge, joyfully trodding along the deck. Her hair is tucked back into a ponytail. No, it can’t be her, not in the situation he left her at. By what sort of dark magic would she exactly appear here out of nowhere?

‘I wouldn’t be surprised if the little Valkyrie turns out to be some sort of a witch.’

The brunette feels his gaze upon her figure and turns. He is met with a brown, warm gaze, rather than the sharp icy lustre that is Ingvild’s trademark. Less pretty as well, but looks about the same age, perhaps a year or two younger.

Another sugar baby, weary and discontent.

August realises he must have been staring with a dumbfounded look as she decides to smile back and make her way to him.

“Good afternoon,” she greets in a Midwestern accent. August’s eyes focus on her painted lips and in his mind, he imagines wiping that cotton candy pink lipstick by his thumb.

“Afternoon,” he smiles kindly, tipping his fedora with a welcoming bow.

Always the gentleman.

The young woman moves to sit on the seat in front of him, crossing her legs together as she takes in his sight. She observes and assesses how old he is and how much money he must own.

Probably looking for a new target.

‘Not old enough to be your daddy, but you can still call me that if it floats your boat.’

“Are you a secret agent?” She jokes, peering at his laptop before he smooths his hand on the lid to shuts it. He pretends to be intrigued by her senseless, obvious seduction when his mind once again forced him to go back and compare her to living-dead girl.

It seems like he can’t get away from her. Perhaps her threats were a curse? Even halfway across the sea, this total stranger reignites his curiosity.

‘Does Ingvild has any values? Any empathy toward others?’

She did experience fear in those little moments when his knife penetrated her soft little gut - that look in her eyes; like a virgin, fucked extremely rough for the very first time.

Thinking of those big, terrified eyes light up a snarl on his bewhiskered lip.

There was an inch of vulnerability in that sweet farewell kiss, a sense lost look on her face as if she couldn’t fit that emotion into any drawer inside her brain. It made her look so much more beautiful.

He wonders what she would have looked like if he went ahead with his besser urges and fucked her.

‘Maybe she’d finally break into tears. Fuck, I’d love to see her cry.’

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” He interrupts the sassy brunette as she speaks of Lord-knows-what. It seems that she doesn’t even realise he wasn't listening to her for the last 5 minutes she been babbling . The girl smiles sweetly, tucking a brown lock of hair behind her ear. The diamond bracelet that decorated her wrist dangles as she does.

“Suzy.”

“Suzy,” August repeats and smiles charmingly before giving his lips a quick flick of a tongue. “Would you like to join me in my room?”

The brunette pretends to blush beneath the layers of foundation on her face and fakes an argument inside her mind as if she actually considers refusing his bold suggestion.

~*~

Back in his room, he pushes the petite brunette to her knees. He wipes away her makeup, smearing the pink paint with the crudeness of thumb. Suzy giggles, thinking she probably had men do worse than that by now.

‘Oh, darling, we haven’t even started yet.’

August’s large hand traces her rounded face, knuckles brushing against her cheek tenderly while running down to meet her lips again.

“Open up sweetheart,” he commands in a relaxed voice, his index finger demanding entrance to her velvety mouth. She spreads her lips open slowly, allowing him to slip in his long digit to explore the wet cavern while his thumb caresses her chin. Much to his delight, she sucks on his finger obediently, moaning as he slowly pumps in and out of her hot mouth.

“Good girl,” he praises, his free hand reaching to unbuckle his belt urgently and free his aching cock from his trousers. He tugs at himself for a second, staring how she suckles on his finger with fake devotion. She probably do want his cock, but it’s his money that she’d care for more later.

‘Oh, how disappointed you are going to be once I’m off this boat, baby.’

“How about I’ll fuck that pretty little throat, hmm?” August asks and without waiting for an answer, pulls his soaked finger away and clasps his hand around the hollows of her cheeks instead, forcing her to keep her mouth open.

She voices no protest, only her eyes staring at him wide and helpless. He pays no attention, preferring the sight of his cock sliding in between those puffy lips and pushing into the warm depths instead. A prolong groan slips out of his mouth, emphasising the relief of finally getting his dick wet.

Usually, he loves to watch, yet he lets his eyes roll back and shuts them tightly this time while she in the background. It only makes him fuck her throat more vigorously, his hands cradling and saddling her head, forcing her to meet the violent thrust of his hips.

“Don’t touch me,” he rasps breathlessly, as her her dirty paws snake for his waist. Terrified, she pulls away, intimidated by his voice. August’s eyes remain shut yet he can feel the wetness on her cheeks as his thumbs dig into them. Those tears are enough to send him over the edge, and he comes into her throat without any warning, grunting a couple of times and lingering inside her mouth to make sure she’ll swallow him clean.

‘That’s right little Valkyrie angel, you’ll take what I’ll give you.’

The mists of fantasy fade as August blinks his eyes open. Debunked by the plastic-type of woman. Slowly, he pulls his cock out, impressed by the mascara that’s smeared beneath Suzy’s now glassy red eyes. He wipes her lower lip clean and then gives her chin a gentle pinch with a soft grin.

Suzy gives out a weak smile in return, trying to look satisfied while remaining on her knees. He can tell that her little brain is pretty much half-through into realising she made a mistake by following the devil into his room.

Tall and menacing, he looks at her drenched by vile mischief. August moves to sit on the queen sized bed, petting the empty spot next to him. She follows, fighting her instinct to put a hand on his knee as she is used to, afraid that he will bark at her again.

“Tell me, Suzy,” he coaxes, reaching for the wallet in his pocket and drawing out a Trojan condom.

“Have you ever tried anal sex?”

****

“Ingvild,” the old man calls her name once he brings her to her new home. It’s a simple, minimalist apartment with naked walls and generic black IKEA furniture.

Silent, she peers at him, holding her small luggage between sinewy fingers. Everything that she possesses in the world is in that suitcase; a bunch of plaid skirts, white buttoned shirts, and a few books about fairies and monsters.

This man called Liam, is he to be her new father? He never even offered her a smile and hardly bothers looking into her eyes. Instead he grunts and sighs while making his way around the house and gesturing for her to follow.

At least he is kinder than Mother Superior. At least in here, no girl is going to pick any fights with her and get her into trouble.

“This is your room,” Liam gestures. The pubescent girl sneaks closer, peeking inside with curiosity. It’s not what someone would call a girl’s room by any means, very much like the rooms they had at the orphanage. It contains a single bed with a thin mattress and white metal bars and on the bed rest some casual clothes for her to wear.

At least she won’t have to wear skirts anymore.

As little Ingvild continues to scan the room, she picks on a small library housing some books and a learning desk with a computer. Probably for her to gain some knowledge of the world. She never had any of that at the orphanage, just the bible and the “forbidden” books of fairytales she stole from one of the nuns.

“Today you can rest,” Liam speaks, watching the little girl as she moves to place her luggage inside and sits on the bed.

“Tomorrow, you will start your first day of training.”

‘Training?’

Ingvild says nothing, only glares at him back quietly. It’s quite clear no woman is present in the house which makes her wonder; the orphanage doesn’t allow single parents to adopt, especially not men. Was Mother Superior this desperate to get rid of her that she decided to throw her at the first person who asked?

“Just so we’re clear, girl,” Liam grumbles, “I am not your father. You call me Liam and that’s that.”

She nods silently and watches him leave the room, shutting the door behind. Sighing, she falls back to the mattress, her silver eyes fixing at the ceiling in wonders of what sort of new life has she been sold ito.

“Ingvild...”

A low, velvety voice calls for her again, the mattress dipping, shifting with the weight of the one who joins her. As she turns her face aside, she is met with hungry eyes and a smile so cold it makes her heart shrivel.

August.

*~*

A loud thud wakes her with a sharp inhale. Though her face remain stoic, quickly readjusting to the sight of moving ground as the plane’s wheels make their landing. ‘Arrogant August Walker, invading my dreams’, she curses but pays no more thought to why he was there. Analysing dreams was never her thing. They were just memories of random things that happened to her in her childhood and August is no different as he had been on her mind for the last 72 hours.

He was a job.

One that she needed to get over with.

Liam was at her throat with this one specifically, nagging her like an old shrew. He wasn’t used for her taking her time with it, not his special girl.

Massaging her strained neck, she waits for the last person to leave the plane, observing the empty cabin and noticing how used it appears with all the crumpled, empty snack bags lying on the floor.

‘Ungrateful’, she thinks before exiting her seat and tip-toeing to get her luggage.

The arrivals terminal is infested with agents. Having been trained for years, she sees right through their casual attire, so fake they almost look like B-movie actors. It’s those badly selected outfits and their observant gazes - eyes obsessively fixed on every gate. Every airport in the world must be the same right now, desperate to catch this nightmare of a terrorist.

‘As if he would be stupid enough to travel by plane.’

With a high profile target like August on the loose, it almost feels like the world is on the brink of war.

‘Is that what he wants? To be an anarchistic god that plows chaos everywhere?’

Maybe that’s why he gave her back her life, to humiliate her, to show her how easily he can twist everyone’s life and disrupt the world people know.

‘Mephisto, Lucifer, Hades, Hel.’

“Remember that you’re only alive because I have allowed it.”

A sudden shard of pain sears through her torso, the wound reacting to the phantasm of his low timbre which plays in her mind. It makes her slow on her steps and chews on her inner cheek to suppress a moan that has been begging to escape her lips since yesterday afternoon.

“August Walker”, the name rolls on the tip of her tongue.

Her very first failure, the very first man who killed her.

It almost feels like a bond now, intimate and twisted. August went deeper than any other man ever did - he fucked her internal organs.

‘Is that is why you “performed” for him in the shower? Why you thought about him, slipping inside you with his cock rather than his knife?’

Ingvild huffs tenderly and passes in-between a couple reuniting with passion, her shoulder sharply bumping against the woman, who yells at her while she remains indifferent, never bothering to look back.

Putting on her shades, she continues to head for the exit. The wound in her gut throbs even further, all of a sudden and just when she is tempted to give into the pain and acknowledge it, the new mobile device in her jacket’s pocket begins to vibrate.

Liam, who else?

“Papa?” She answers, the big exit sign finally flickering in front of her eyes.

She can see Liam rolling his eyes without having to see his grumpy old face.

“What progress do you hope to make with this lead? Someone says they saw him in Singapore yesterday, you should be following these threads instead.”

Ingvild holds her breath, knowing very well the lead is false. August was with her a night ago, so close she tasted him, so near his fingers dug deep into her flesh, leaving an imprint on her bones and even though there is something quite demonic about him, she doubts he can be at two different places at once.

“I need access to his world, I need to pick up the clues,” she explains, yet the sad truth is that she has no idea what to look for. August is not a rookie idiot, he did a fine job leaving zero clues back at the bed&breakfast room they “shared”. Not even the receptionist who ogled her oddly when she left could tell her where he was heading.

“Just get it done, Ingvild. You’re acting like a child, this isn’t like you,” Liam mutters before hanging up.

‘He is right, this isn’t like you.’

Ingvild feels hooks clutching her guts, not just the pain August inflicted upon her, but something deeper, something desperate, leaving a void in that same spot. The fact that he slipped between her fingers seems to torments, just as much as the fact that she lied to Liam for the first time. It makes her feel like a rebellious teenager. She never keeps secrets from him and there she is, lying through every word.

Absentmindedly, her fingers press against her lips as she exits the airport.

~*~

The address led her to a small suburban house in southern London. It’s the type of house that has large glass windows where anyone standing outside can ogle freely. Rich people houses, as she likes to call it. She had a few missions in the past with people living in homes like this one - always an easy kill.

A blond woman meanders about inside the house, wearing a grey silk nightgown, preparing for bedtime probably. According to Walker’s file, she’s the most recent ex - Sydney. They broke up a couple of months before he decided to go on what he thought would be his final mission, his deathstrike.

‘If only.’

Glancing from the gravel path that leads to large metal doors, she learns the woman’s delicate manoeuvres, her mind reciting every graceful gestures as she crouches down to place food for a large Maine coon cat.

‘Is that the type of woman he likes?’

August would strikes her as a man who would fuck anything with a heartbeat but he did have more than a few relationships. She can’t help but wonder if he has a type, noticing how Sydney is more of a woman than a girl; solid income, big name lawyer, a woman who can take care of herself, a woman to start a family with.

Not that she imagines Walker starting a family anytime soon.

She is pretty too, with her mid-length straight golden hair, bright eyes and a shapely body. Ingvild looks at her own outfit: jeans, sneakers and a black sleeved shirt, nowhere as classy as beautiful Sydney.

The hour is late, still she walks toward the door and rings the bell.

“Can I help you?”

Ingvild is greeted by green eyes and a subtle Welsh accent. She gives her one of her fake smiles, trying to look as charming and pleasant as a sweet doll.

“Sydney Bedford?” She asks, while briefly scanning her body. She tries to imagine what August liked about her the most; her figure? Her angelic face? Her emerald stare?

“I have some questions about August Walker, he used to…”

Sydney shakes her head vehemently, waving her hands in the air. Something in her eyes drastically changes the moment the name “August” slaps her across the face.

“Are you MI6!? Please, I don’t want to speak about that psychotic loser anymore.”

Ingvild smiles calmly, a soft chuckle leaving her throat.

“Oh you see, he disappeared…”

“Good riddance!” Sydney replies, her eyes filling with anger, her face turning red within seconds. “Listen. I already told them everything I know.”

“Please,” Ingvild begs, batting her long lashes and tilting her head like a cute little kitten. “I’m new in this and my superior will be mad if I don’t at least speak to you. May I please come in? It’s important for my investigation.”

The same childlike charm that works on men might as well work on women, for different reasons in this occasion. Sydney is a single 36-38-year old woman who lives alone with her cat.

She must have wanted a family, perhaps with Walker, no wonder she’s furious.

Leaning against the door frame, Sydney scrutinises the young girl, believing she is younger than she really is with that pale smooth face and big innocent greyish eyes.

“Come on in, dear.” She opens the door wide, letting Ingvild step inside before closing it behind her.

The main entrance leads into a large living room, furnished with a black leather sofas and a glass coffee table. She owns a TV that is larger than Ingvild's entire living room and the walls are moulded with grey bricks, shiny from some cut stone.

Ingvild imagines how lovely it would feel to crack the shimmering stone with August’s skull.

“Would you like some tea?” Sydney offers while heading toward her luxurious kitchen.

“Please,” Ingvild answers, walking around the house and examining every corner to learn of the woman who invited her in. She nearly stumbles as the large cat rubs against her foot. “Oh,” she exclaims, lowering herself to pick the chubby feline to her arms.

She never owned a pet. Liam said it’s unnecessary.

“So like I said,” Sydney calls from the kitchen, putting the kettle on the stove. “I don’t know anything about August and where he is. All I can tell you is that he was weird.”

“Weird? How?” Ingvild asks, stroking the cat behind his ears and while it purr against her chest.

Sydney places two mugs on the black marble counter in the kitchen and opens a cabinet, looking for some tea bags. “He would disappear and then return after weeks, telling me not to ask any questions. Then, he would go away and come back in crazy hours. He was a gentleman of course but arrogant and demanding, never taking no for an answer.”

Ingvild turns to look at Sydney, arching her eyebrow as if she is surprised to learn this about the man who stabbed and drowned her in an icy lake. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” Sydney shouts back, her chest heaving as she throws the bags into the mugs and turns toward Ingvild.

“Everything had to go his way, and I won’t be surprised if he had a mistress or another family, or god! Maybe an illegal drug practice.”

The cat jumps down from Ingvild’s embrace, and she brushes the grey hairs off her black shirt. “What makes you think this way?”

“Like I said; disappearing in the middle of the night, coming back... I knew something was off so I went and... wait I… I shouldn’t tell you this, you’re an agent!” Sydney looks around her, as if she’s afraid someone might be listening to their conversation.

Ingvild takes a step forward into the kitchen, her grey eyes seeking Sydney’s, giving her a warm, kind smile. “You can tell me anything Sydney, you are not in danger, I promise. We just want to locate Walker, he hasn't reported to HQ in a while.”

Sydney observes her gaze, trying to determine her personality. She thinks the young woman seem gentle with those unique eyes and the hair that’s tucked back to a strict ponytail.

“I had him traced,” she whispers. “I know I wasn’t supposed to because he is CIA, and trust me I was scared but I had to know.”

“How did you do that?” Ingvild asks, tilting her head with curiosity and slight disbelief. It seems odd that a man like Walker was bugged by some dumb lawyer woman.

“I did his laundry, it wasn’t hard to hide something inside the pocket of his jacket. I mean, inside the fabric, where he can’t find it.”

Ingvild can’t help but let out a small snort, amused by the fact that the infamous CIA agent got made so easily. She covers her mouth with her fist, shyly smiling into it, but it’s noticed by Sydney who stands in front of her, staring oddly.

“Where would he go?”

“Some place in South Kensington, almost every day for the last month of our relationship. He would vanish there for hours and then come back. I have the address, hold on.” Sydney leaves the kitchen and walks through a long corridor.

Not bothering with politeness, Ingvild follows her, easy off her feet like the big grey cat, carefully exploring this new territory. She imagines the fights August would have with this woman and then the passionate sex afterwards while her hand runs against the texture of the garnet.

“Oh!” Sydney exclaims, confused to see Ingvild in the doorway of her bedroom. The young woman looks around curiously, trying to find any memorabilia from August; a photo, a clothing article, man cologne. It seems like he was never even been here, though there is a certain coldness in this room that feels strangely familiar.

‘No, not August, his touch is warm.’

“He did trading or something,” Sydney says as she hands her over a small yellow note that was hidden in her purse. It has the address to August’s “secret lover”.

Ingvild takes the notes, memorizing the address before placing it in her jeans pocket. “Trading? Can you elaborate?”

She shrugs. “He asked me to not disturb him while he was doing some dealing, I don’t know what it was… it looked fishy but it might just be CIA stuff.”

Ingvild nods silently, scanning the room again and again and eventually taking in the sight of the empty bed. Her mind fills in the gaps, painting an image of August fucking Sydney into oblivion, his muscular body ramming into hers, one leg held over his shoulder while the blond little bitch screams in ecstasy.

“How was he in bed? Would you say he performed well?” Ingvild asks, her eyes gesturing toward the mattress.

Sydney frowns, giving her a slight repulsed face as she finds her question remarkably rude.

“How is this relevant to the investigation?”

She means to berate her when she witnesses Ingvild’s kind smile growing remarkably cold.

The young woman remains silent, taking a step closer and making Sydney almost stumble back as sudden fear creeps in. Grey frigid eyes, like icy shards, her nostrils slightly flares as she catches up the scent of her expensive perfume.

“How is this relevant to the MI6?!” Sydney asks again, trying to dismiss the tension yet continues to draw distance from the young agent.

“I never said I am MI6.”

Sydney’s back hits the wall with a soft thud, she attempts to flee but Ingvild’s hands lock around her shoulders, forcing her against the wall with a thud. As small as this woman is, she is way stronger than she appears.

“How was he in bed?” she repeats, her voice becoming more demanding while her glare threatening to spear into Sydney’s skull. “Would you say he satisfies you?”

Puny gasps peal from Sydney’s mouth, her green eyes becoming moist with pure fear.

“Please, don’t... He was... Rough.”

“Bondage?”

“He... he..he choked me,” she answers in a trembling voice, her lower lip quivering, much to Ingvild’s delight.

“He was too rough, he was big and he didn’t care, it was as if he enjoyed my pain...”

Ingvild licks her bottom lip, imagining Sydney thrown on the bed with August treating her like a rag doll, wrecking her completely. Bruises left everywhere, tattoos on her skin for the world to see this fine artist’s work. A cold flame licks at her spine, crawling down to the small of her back.

She’s uncertain why.

“Would you say he loved you?”

Sydney’s peers at her quietly, thinking of her answer for a few seconds while Ingvild’s fingers bury into her collarbone, voicelessly demanding a response.

“August Walker is incapable of love. He is dead inside.”

________________________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker or the Mission Impossible Frenchise

#august walker #Henry Cavill #August Walker Fanfiction #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #August Walker x ofc #Henry Cavill x ofc #August Walker Fanfic #augustwalker #henrycavill

519 notes · View notes

mlmdarkfiction · 4 years

Note

Gun anon here. First of all, I can't believe you'd call me out like that, how dare you, and second of all, can I request a drabble/fic or smth with Michael Myers and a gun? I know they're not really his M.O. but I love him and I crave it (also: do I need to get specific or anything or can I just say go wild with whatever idea you come up with?)

SOMEHOW THIS ENDED UP THE SAME LENGTH AS LIKE ?? A LOT OF THE COMMISSIONS I DO WHY DID I GO SO HARD AT THIS ONE MICHAEL MYERS FIC. I’m not mad im just...confused @ myself.

anyway I hope you enjoy

Possible CW’s: NSFW, DMAB Reader, Home Invasion, Guns, Gun Kink, Death (not the readers or Michael’s)

Read on AO3:

Read Below:

It’s a rhythmic banging sound that first got your attention, leading you to the kitchen. It’s the back door.

Someone, or something must have left it hanging open, allowing for the slight breeze from outside to send it gently crashing into your cabinets.

You know for a fact you aren’t responsible for the open door.

Try as you might, you can’t even remember the last time you’d even used the back door, but…

You’re not worried.

Perhaps you’re the only person in all of Haddonfield, who could be unbothered at the prospect of an intruder in your home.

And you’re definitely the only person in Haddonfield hoping the intruder is Michael Myers.

Weird Roommate?

Friend?

Lover?

In reality, you have no idea how you should describe your relationship with The Shape.

Michael is truly an enigma, as most would guess.

Everything he does is unpredictable.

He comes and goes as he pleases, almost never locking or closing doors behind himself, you’re used to it at this point.

And at the end of the day, you know that whether you want him to or not, Michael will always come back.

At least, up until now he’s always found his way back into your home.

You hope that the door being left wide open is a sign that Michael’s finally returned home.

The door is shut, and you’re smiling. Honestly this is a big step for Michael, as it appears he’s not left you a trail of blood to clean up.

Perhaps he was finally learning manners?

Or maybe after so long of being away he simply hadn’t wanted you to yell at him for leaving yet another mess.

There’s no rush in trying to find Michael.

As every other time he’s come to visit, you know he’ll find you when the time is right.

It may not be intentional, although you really think it is, Michael always ends up scaring you.

He thinks it’s funny. Even though you can’t see his face, you know he does. He loves seeing the way you jump at his sudden appearances throughout your shared home.

Nothing about your night changes. You carry on the exact same way you would have if you hadn’t discovered the open door.

After making a bowl of popcorn you settle down on your couch to watch the Countdown to Halloween horror movie marathon on your TV.

About twenty-minutes into some B-Slasher film when you hear it. A crash from upstairs.

Suddenly you feel a lot more on edge.

Michael’s not…

Michael isn’t the type to make much noise at all.

You try to reason with yourself, to tell yourself that it’s just Michael, that he must have dropped something…

But you’re unable to convince yourself.

Stupid Horror Movie.

“Michael?” It’s a soft call at first, and yet...It’s loud enough that the noises you’d been hearing from upstairs come to a complete stop.

The sudden silence does nothing for your already frazzled nerves.

All you hear now is the soft sound of your feet against the carpet as you make your way to the bottom of the stairs.

Looking up you see absolutely nothing. No sudden Michael to assuage your fears.

“This isn’t funny, Michael!”

Even using your angry voice gets you nothing in response, and it causes you to quickly come to terms with the fact that if you want to go back to relaxing, then you’re going to have to investigate the cause of the noise yourself.

The irony of this whole situation isn’t lost on you however, a chill runs down your spine as the poor soon-to-be-dead woman on TV calls out ‘Hello?’ into her own, stranger infested, home.

Everything about this seems like it’s a parody, the stairs even creak underneath you as you make your way up.

Suddenly you’re all too aware of the source of the crash.

Not Michael.

Definitely not Michael.

“You’ve made this easy on me,” Your blood goes completely cold as this stranger turns to you, gun pointed directly at you. Anything you could do or say is completely null. The situation, your body...It all feels frozen.

“Show me where you keep the real valuables.”

Slowly your body begins to unfreeze, and you force yourself to nod in response to the armed intruder.

There’s nothing but the pounding of your heart in your ears as you continue to your bedroom.

As soon as you make your way to the doorway the man grabs you roughly from behind, you can’t help the small scream that leaves your panicked lips at the sudden touch. “Where?”

“Under the bed.”

“Go.” He’s shoving the gun into your lower back, inspiring you to follow his commands, as, even through your shirt, you can feel the guns barrel.

You nod, risking a glance back at your captor.

Your breath hitches but...you relax.

Michael.

For real this time, it’s Michael, standing completely unnoticed domineeringly behind the armed man.

Even with his mask on as always, you can feel the intensity radiating off of him. The malevolent energy is so strong, you’re surprised the Intruder seems to be completely unaware it’s no longer the two of you.

“I said get the good shit!”

Finally you’re snapped out of your shock and relief, and you nod your head again. Crouching down you put on the facade of retrieving your safe from below the bed.

Michael doesn’t make you wait.

“What the-”

From your position you can’t tell what exactly Michael did, but the crashing of the gun on the ground is a relief, at least until you realize if it had fallen just right it could have easily gone off.

Still you quickly grab the gun with your shaking hands before rising to meet the scene before you.

This is the first time you’ve actually seen Michael in action.

Of course you know who Michael is, and what he does, but seeing it live….

Seeing it live is totally different.

Michael is holding the man in the air by his neck. You’re entranced watching the man's feet dangle uselessly, before pressing into Michael’s chest.

It doesn’t seem to matter how much he struggles or kicks, Michael doesn’t seem fazed at all.

Though you hate to admit it, there's something undeniably hot about Michael holding a struggling man in the air as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. The sight goes straight to your cock.

You’re so aroused-

You’re so entranced by Michael that you have to force your gaze away when it’s clear the struggling man is close to the end of his life.

His face is red, fingers desperately clawing at Michael’s hands as if it would somehow be enough to free him from the crushing grip.

You shut your eyes tightly.

In this moment you’re dangerously aware of everything going on in the room with you; the pounding of your frantic heart isn’t loud enough to block out the last struggles, and gasps of the man, nor do you miss the way it all suddenly stops.

This silence is immediately followed by a thump, the thump of Michael dropping the now dead man onto your bedroom floor.

Michael is…

You don’t know what he’s doing.

You tell yourself you’re not afraid of him, and yet...you find yourself unable to open your eyes.

The gun has grown warm in your now very nervous, sweaty hands.

With blood rushing in your ears you become hyper aware of your partly adrenaline, but mostly Michael caused boner, and the way that it’s straining painfully against the fabric of your pants.

A large hand, one that’s much larger than your own, develops your hand, the one holding the gun.

Slowly you open your eyes to find yourself face to face, or more accurately, face to chest, with Michael.

You watch Michael as he takes the gun from your grasp.

With his mask still on it’s nearly impossible to tell where Michael is looking, but it really seems like he’s staring at both the gun now in his hands, and at you as you watch him.

“Michael?” His name leaves your lips tentatively. You’re surprised by yourself, surprised by the fact there’s no waiver or tremble of fear noticeable in your voice.

His head tilts in a familiar response at your gentle call of his name, and now you’re sure you’ve gotten the man's full attention.

Briefly your eyes drop from Michael’s masked face to the dead body at your feet, before returning to the other man's covered face.

“Thank you…” After all, if Michael hadn’t intervened, it most likely would have been you dead on the floor.

There’s a hesitation, and then silence envelops you both once again.

Surprisingly, it’s Michael who ends the tension. A simple step forward is all it takes, before he’s pulling you close against his chest into a crushing embrace.

It’s odd.

You welcome the unusual affection, but it’s still odd.

Michael isn’t usually so...soft.

‘Maybe,’ you think, ‘He’d actually been worried.’

The hug is nice, but tight. You’re sure that’s because he’s unused to initiating such subtle affections.

You notice two things while in the hug though;

Michael is also hard, his cock straining the jumpsuit to press against your own while you embrace, and that Michael still has the gun.

It’s not pointed at you, of course, but you can feel it in his hand as he holds you.

Michael doesn’t break the hug.

As soon as you’d felt his erection you knew he likely wouldn’t.

The two of you, you’d done things like this before.

He is, to put it lightly, inexperienced, but he’s always been curious and eager.

Body kept flush against his own, you’re unable to do anything as he grinds his hips into your own as he desperately searches for friction.

A soft moan leaves your lips, and you have to keep from shuddering when you hear Michael give a deep inhale from within his latex mask.

The Shape doesn’t moan. In your experience, he never has, but you’ve learned how to tell Michael is enjoying himself.

You’ve learned to listen out for every deep breath, shuddering exhale, and low growl.

“Here,”

You take a step back, not missing the almost needy way that Michael tries to grip your shoulders in an attempt to keep you close.

“Let me help.”

Only you.

You’re the only person who could strip Michael Myers, and live to tell the tale.

His jumpsuit is easily removed, and no surprise to you, he’s completely bare underneath.

You leave the mask.

In all the time you’ve seen Michael, he’s only been maskless a handful of times, and every time it had been his own choice to remove it.

It’s a boundary.

A symbol of trust.

And no matter your relationship with the other man, you’re not about to overstep it.

Michael’s now completely naked aside from the mask, and his cock is standing at full attention.

It’s a full 7 ½ inches.

You watch as it bobs gently in anticipation as Michael gently adjusts his weight as he becomes used to the cool night air of your bedroom.

Like usual, this level of intimacy with Michael is prefaced by curiosity and need for relief.

It’s Michael’s pleasure that matters. It’s always been like that.

Despite the likeness of your bodies, you’re not sure Michael could pleasure you back, if he even knew how.

He pulls you in again, and you’re quick to fall into routine, dropping to your knees in front of the larger man.

There’s no waiting, no moment to catch your breath, Michael is straight to the point.

His scent quickly fills your senses as he lays his cock against your face.

He humps against it, rubbing the sweaty organ against your cheeks and nose, at one point you stop him as he’s getting dangerously close to thrusting into your eye.

You’re allowed a single deep breath before you take the head of his large cock into your mouth.

Not only is his musk overwhelming, but so is his taste.

Salt.

Sweat.

Skin.

Without thinking you moan wantonly around him, tongue wrapping around the head, licking his slit and the precum that had already started gathering there.

It’s only Michael who could get you to act in such a way.

To get you to act like an eager cock sucking whore, even knowing you’ll get nothing in return.

You’ve trained yourself to take his monster cock.

Or…

You’ve at least trained yourself to take most of it.

A gag still manages to leave your throat when your partner decides he’s had enough and wants more .

All it took was a single hard thrust for him to sheathe is aching member in your willing throat.

One day you think he may accidentally kill you with his cock.

Perhaps he’ll thrust too hard and accidentally puncture your esophagus.

Maybe he’ll just hold you far too tightly, far too close, as your mouth is filled, nose in the curls of his pubes unable to breath as he finishes.

The thought of dying by his cock...it makes your own twitch from it’s confines.

You’re so focused on your goal of taking the full 7 ½ inches in your mouth, that you don’t notice Michael shifting above you.

No, you’re left with no warning of what’s to come.

Metal presses softly to your cheeks, and instantly you freeze.

You begin taking short, panicked breaths of air through your nose, cock still clogging your airway, as you look up to Michael.

He’s just staring, no expression visible through the damned mask, and no real reaction to your stopping or to your very clear fear.

Instead of stopping, or showing any sort of intent, Michael just begins to gently trail the gun lower.

The steel traces down your jaw, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, and eventually rests right under your chin.

You relax, if only slightly, knowing Michael won’t shoot with his dick in your mouth.

He’s been shot enough times now to know it hurts, and would likely know better than to shoot his own dick off.

However, this relief is short lived.

Once again Michael begins to move the gun away from your chin, down, and further down again, until at last it’s being pressed against the obvious tent in your pants.

There’s no way to keep in a moan at the feeling of something, anything, even a gun, touching your poor aching dick.

Any thoughts you had about what exactly Michael’s planning to do quickly leave your head as Michael gives a quick and sudden thrust.

It has you choking again.

Tears, snot, and drool leave you at the sudden extra strain.

You work faster on Michael’s cock, bobbing your head just right, moaning for the extra stimulation, all while the other man continues to prod your own member with a fucking gun.

You try to avoid thinking about the fear, and the arousal , this new addition to your routine is causing.

No, instead of thinking about that, and what it means about you as a person, you decide instead to focus on Michael.

All you’re thinking about is him, his cock, and how to make him cum.

It isn’t long until your efforts are rewarded, after all, despite his above average endowment, he’s never lasted very long.

Still,he seems to lose his load much faster than he usually does.

In an almost mockery of your earlier fantasy, your nose is forced into Michael’s unkempt pelvis, as your mouth, throat, and stomach are filled with his bitter cum.

The longer you go without air, hardly able to breathe even through your nose like this, the more you fear every part of your earlier fantasy is going to be fulfilled.

But…

Michael has mercy.

Once he’s finally beginning to soften up, he pulls himself entirely from your mouth.

For the moment you’ve forgotten the gun, now much more focused on your aching jaw, and swollen red lips.

Michael reminds you quickly though.

In your kneeling position, Michael has no trouble pushing you onto your back, especially now that you’re exhausted, unable to fight him.

All you can do against him is look up with confusion.

“Michael, what-”

You weren’t really expecting a response.

Of course the response you get isn’t verbal, no, Michael responds to your inquiries in a physical manner.

All you can do is moan in mixed pain and pleasure as he once again presses the gun against your erection, however this time...he’s much rougher than he’d been before.

It feels almost as if he’s trying to crush your cock.

Still it seems that for the first time your relationship with The Shape had become sexual, that he decided you were finally allowed to cum too.

He keeps you like that-

Splayed out on the floor in front of him, legs spread, all while you moan and write for him as he roughly outlines your cock with the tip of the gun.

He doesn’t stop.

Not until you cum.

And when it finally happens, when you finally cum, you’re filled with a mix of relief and humiliation.

Relief that Michael had finally moved the gun away, not just from your genitals, but from you entirely.

Humiliation at the fact you’d cum without a real human touch.

Humiliation at just how hard you’d cum due to going without for so long...and the mess you’d eventually have to clean out of your underwear.

Although you can’t see his face, you can feel the smug aura radiating off of Michael.

He’s clearly proud of what he’s done today, and you have a feeling he’s not going to let you forget this exact encounter any time soon.

309 notes · View notes

revasserium · 4 years

Note

Can I have 34 with Sugawara? thank you

hq!!reqs temporarily: closed ; all other reqs: open

send me a number a character and i’ll write you a drabble ;

34. insomnia: the owner’s instructions suga ; 1,659 words

a/n: suga, the type of stay up at night bc of an existential crisis.

the truth is – everything ends. it’s one of those fundamental, incontestable truths, a silver thread in the very fabric of reality, a cornerstone fact upon which the world was built, precarious and everlasting: everything ends. everything. and maybe it’s pointless to let the encroaching shadow of existential dread keep him up at night, but sugawara koushi is just that kind of person. he lies awake thinking about the probable heat death of the universe, and the fact that try as he might, nothing he does, nothing truly, really, actually means anything.

he flips onto his side, sighs, tugs his phone from beneath his pillow and flicks open the screen. the time glares at him – a jarring 4:33am. he groans and buries his face in his pillow.

shit.

and he has morning practice tomorrow.

double shit.

he peers at this phone again. 4:34am.

he opens up his messages and scrolls through his history with you, grinning at all the stupid memes you send each other. his eyes pause on your last message to him – night, love you. sleep tight.

he’d responded in kind, except exclusively with emojis that perhaps trailed into the questionable territory of being suggestive. but i mean. eggplants are perfectly innocent vegetables, aren’t they?

his fingers hover over the keys.

why the fuck not. she’s probably asleep anyway.

can’t sleep. miss you. wish u were here.

he hits send, and almost closes out the app when the signature three dots appear at the bottom of his scene and he freezes. why the hell are you awake?

it seems that you shared his sentiments rather exactly, as your message appears with a little bloop.

why the hell are you awake?

he crinkles his nose, fingers already flying.

said i couldn’t sleep. :( u never read my texts properly.

a moment later, his phone buzzes and he sees your caller id flare up over his screen. he grins, tapping the green answer button.

“i do too read your messages.”

he laughs, the sound just a tad strange in the echo of darkness.

“fine, fine, yeah you do. i was just teasing.”

“when are you not.”

“fair.”

quiet. the moonlight bleeds slivers between his curtains, the light slicing his room into bits – he raises a hand, staring at his bisected palm with a light frown.

“are you thinking about the end of the world again?”

your voice startles him, even across the line, he can hear the way you must be raising your eyebrows, that teasing smile he loves so much twisting your lips. you sound exasperated. and rightly so. he’s exasperated with himself too.

“may…be?”

“hm. figured.”

he lets his hand fall back onto the bed, rolls onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

“what do you think happens after we all die?”

he hears you shift in your bed as well, and a moment later, you sigh.

“the universe world keeps on spinning. nothing much changes.”

“right, but like… isn’t it weird to think that all this has existed before us, and it’ll continue to exist after? like. what are we, even?”

you laugh, the sound making his stomach flutter.

“cosmic fallout.”

“wow,” suga rolls his eyes before remembering you can’t see him. though he’s sure you can hear it in his voice. you’ve known each other for way too long. longer than he cares to try and remember. maybe that’s what it’s like to not worry – to trust something enough not to question it. to not have to question it.

“that’s not depressing at all.”

you hum, “well. it is. but it’s not like anything we can do will change that. so why lose sleep over it? it’s got no sway on how your life will be.”

“right, but it’s just… strange – isn’t it? like. how did we even end up here? with like… phones and computers and internet and – and relationships.”

you’re laughing again, and he closes his eyes. one of these days, he thinks he’ll tape it, the way you laugh, and maybe loop it so it can be the backing track to his entire existence. maybe that’ll give it some meaning, at least –

he wishes you were there. so he curls up onto his side again and cradles the phone to his ear.

“i miss you.”

“i know. i miss you too.”

“you should come over.”

“koushi. it’s 4am.”

“almost 5.”

“has anyone told you you’re terrible at convincing people to do things?”

and this time, he laughs, lets the sound shake through him like the first ray of daylight on a rising sun – warm and sharp and hopeful.

“once or twice.”

another silence. suga thinks he can almost hear the sound of the world turning, it’s so quiet. and then, your voice cuts through the invariable darkness.

“by accident.”

“huh?” he blinks, unsure of if the line cut off.

“that’s how we all ended up here, a massive, cosmic series of accidents. everything happened just so, all the stars that have ever lived or died – they all did it in just the way they had to for us to somehow end up here, and be able to hold hands and stay up late at night worrying about death and the end of all time.”

“one hell of an accident,” suga mumbles, crinkling his nose. a wave of tiredness washes over him. he wants to tell you to keep on talking. maybe he’ll record that too, just you talking about something, anything, everything. maybe that’s the cure to insomnia – just you and your voice, lulling him to sleep every night.

he wonders if that’s weird, and decides that well, he’s your boyfriend, he can be a little bit weird with this kinda stuff.

“still, pretty amazing right? all that happened so you could accidentally confess to me during homeroom.”

suga squawks.

“will you cease and desist? god – you’re just as bad as daichi and noya! they made fun of me for months – months! can you believe it? my own fucking teammates.”

your laughter washes over him, soothing his fraying nerves even as he huffs and tries to be angry with you. but it’s impossible – it’s been impossible for a long while now, and he wonders why he still tries.

maybe it’s because he’s so in love.

“but – whatever happens after we’re all gone,” you say, your voice soft and steady and full of a tenderness so striking it makes his chest squeeze, “at least we had this while we were here, right? at least by some strange conspiracy of the universe, we met each other. and – and fell in love. and… it doesn’t really matter if it doesn’t last forever. cause i’ll remember it happened. and you will too.”

you take a breath that sounds like the meeting of truth and tragedy, or perhaps the two finding out that they were always one and the same.

suga holds his own breath, forgets for a moment that he even has lungs.

“and… i think that’s enough. for me.”

he lets the breath go, his body curling into itself as he lets his eyes fall shut, his heartbeat thrumming to the sound of your breaths.

“wow,” he says again. though, it carries none of its former irony.

and, after a beat.

“you’re a sap.”

and this time, you’re the one sighing.

“i’m hanging up.”

“wait! not yet – c’mon, you know i didn’t mean it.” he’s laughing again. he does that a lot with you.

“fine, but only until you fall asleep.”

he smiles, a pleasant warmth already spreading through his limbs, making heavy his eyelids.

“i’m already getting sleepy.”

“good.”

quiet, once more. the moonlight falling across his room seems to spell out eternity, and it’s moments like this when suga wonders what it’d be like to live forever. not in the sense that he wants to live for a million years, but that he’d like to live in this moment for long than – well, this moment lasts.

he wants to stretch out the seconds like taffy between his fingers, relish in the sound of your voice, your laughter, in the smell of your hair after you’ve just washed it, the way you kiss him, on the lips, on the cheek, over his eyelids till they see in nothing but daydreams.

“hey,” he says, whispers into the phone like a secret.

“hm?” your voice answers back.

“i think i love you.”

you pause, and for a moment, just a moment, he thinks he can taste that unattainable forever. he wants to live inside that moment. for as long as he can.

“i think i love you too.”

and, even though they’re words you often say to each other, repeated so many times they might lose their meaning – there’s something about the time – the hours caught between morning and night, something about the foreverness of those precious few moments, that makes those words – that specific sequence of letters and sounds, mean so much more than they usually do.

suga realizes that this is also truth – a kind that he’s always neglected to think about. the truth of beginnings, and middles, and the eternities that live passed the endings.

because there are certain forevers that live outside the realm of time and space, forevers that are contained within their own special fragments of realities – his and yours, for instance.

and just for now, for this one moment – love is not an ever-ending thing.

and the truth is, no matter how dark and dreary the eventual end of the world might be, at least he had this. at least he met you. and at least, he’s known the taste of falling in love. and that’s something.

isn’t it?

–

taglist: @thewaterlily @dorkyama @undertheseabass @miyulovestowrite @writing-in-monotone @lceiji @vventure @writeiolite

(pls let me know if you’d like to be added to the list! or if you’d like to be removed! u__u)

#haikyuuwritersnet #sugawara koushi #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara x reader #haikyuu scenarios #floofy floof floof #haicuties #suga inspires a lot of very interesting writing for me #i just think he's such an interesting character #and my obvious bias is showing again oof #anyway its my first time doing a taglist! lmao idk if im doing it right but!#i think about this alot too but its not like existential DREAd to me #i think about it like -- well if nothing means anything might as well do what u want and live ur best life anyway #if none of it matters then YOU get to decide what matters and thats a vERY great power to have

134 notes · View notes

emybain · 4 years

Text

Quarantine: Renegades Edition

so please don’t take this seriously. i honestly don’t remember writing half of it, but it be like that. this is simply a glimpse into the lives of Nova and Adrian during a global pandemic, aka snippets of the few months they’re in quarantine together. also, happy birthday to my girl nova. there’s a bonus/crack scene at the end that was inspired by tiktok, as well. i regret nothing (other than this poorly written fic)

ao3

“They’re saying this thing could spread into June, July, maybe even August,” Adrian said, relaxing back into the leather couch, pulling the laptop with him. Nova adjusted against him, pulling the blanket over her legs just a little higher as the AC powered on.

“That’s if people keep being dumbasses,” Danna replied from behind the screen, leaning forward to rest her head in her palm. “It’s our job as citizens to prevent the spread of this disease. Why can’t people get that through their thick heads?”

Nova and Adrian were on a video call with the rest of their friends, who were all also quarantined in their homes. Nova had her own apartment, but at the very start of this outbreak—a new disease that was rapidly spreading around the world—she decided that quarantining by herself for an unknown amount of time wouldn’t be good for her mental health, so she packed up clothing and other essentials and headed over to the Everhart-Westwood residence. Not to mention that a mansion was vastly better than a one room apartment. Oh yeah, and she supposed being stuck with her boyfriend every day wasn’t so bad.

“They’re being ignorant,” Nova chipped in. “People think that they’re immune, or that this virus is being blown out of proportion.”

“When they get sick, I’ll laugh.” Ruby popped a cracker in her mouth before the camera became blurry as she moved. She appeared to have shifted from lying on her back to her stomach from a spot on her bed. There was minimal background noise from her end, which was suspicious since she shared a room with two teenage boys. They must’ve been off playing video games, probably who Max was laughing with from his room upstairs.

Narcissa poked her head out from behind a lengthy book from her place on Danna’s bed in the background of Danna’s screen.. Like Nova, she lived by herself, and would rather be with her significant other than be alone. “This isn’t the first time a pandemic has spread throughout the world. There was the European Virus fifty years ago, coronavirus back in the 21st century, the Spanish Flu in the 20th century, and so on and so forth.” She waved a hand in the air. “Hopefully, people will come to their senses. History always repeats itself, no matter how hard we may try to prevent it.”

“Thanks for the optimistic input, babe.” Danna rolled her eyes and cast a glance back at her girlfriend.

“It’s what I do,” Narcissa replied, returning her attention back to her book, but there was a smile on her face.

“Well, maybe when things start to calm down a bit, we can all hang out. A picnic or in cars or something.” Oscar shrugged. “Six feet apart, of course. I’m not about to catch something from you nasty people.

“Did you just suggest a picnic?” Ruby snorted. “You might want to check your temperature. I think you’re getting sick.”

“You seem to forget all about the many picnics we’ve had.”

Ruby stuck her tongue out in response, then straightened a little and turned her head to the side. “What?” she yelled. After a moment, she turned back to the screen and groaned. “Ugh, I have to go. Mom’s making me bake with her again. Maybe this time we’ll try something besides bread or cookies.” She waved at them before she vanished from the meeting.

At that moment, the front door clicked and opened, revealing Hugh and Simon, both carrying multiple grocery bags.

“My dads just got home from the store. We should probably go help.” Adrian sat up, leaving Nova to fall a little in his direction as she had been leaning on him.

“Hi Adrian’s Dads!” Oscar yelled, though they were already out of the room when he did so. Nonetheless, they both shouted back their greetings from the kitchen.

“I should probably go, too. There’s this show I started bingeing and I finished the fifth season last night. I’m dying to know what happens after that cliffhanger.” Danna leaned back in her chair.

“Oh, is it that one you were telling me about?” Nova raised her eyebrows. “Based off of that movie series?”

“Yes! And watch it so I can rant to you about it! I’m so pissed off at the main characters. They’re just...so stupid.”

With that, the remaining five waved and said their goodbyes. Adrian set the laptop down on the coffee table in front of them, and they both stood up. Nova stretched, her muscles tired from sitting for nearly an hour.

In the kitchen, Hugh was unloading the bags while Simon busied himself with spraying the items with cleaner and wiping them down with a paper towel. A couple of weeks into quarantine and Nova and Adrian knew what to do. They got to work putting stuff away, with Nova on pantry duty and Adrian at the fridge.

Although Nova hadn’t been out in public since the world went into quarantine, she could tell that the grocery stores and other places were beginning to recover from the initial shock of the pandemic. With each trip to the store, Adrian’s parents came back with more and more food and supplies. Hugh had even decided to buy a fridge to store out in the garage for extra food that didn’t fit inside. She found that to be a bit ridiculous, but it seemed to make him happy. What was it with men and having fridges out in their garages?

“Is Max upstairs?” Simon asked, pushing a milk jug toward Adrian.

“Yeah. I think he’s playing video games.” Adrian shot Nova a look, and she repressed a smile; they both knew what was about to come.

“Has he done any schoolwork since we left two hours ago? Or at least left his room?”

“I think he left to use the bathroom about forty five minutes ago,” Nova said. She glanced at the knock-off brand of her favorite crackers in her hand and sighed, placing it on a shelf. The off-brand wasn’t bad, but it certainly wasn’t the same. It was the type of product that you had to buy name brand, as the imitations were just a waste of money. Alas, with the pandemic, she knew it was a fight to get the good products before anyone else.

“He’ll get it done, Pops,” Adrian reassured. “He’s been doing fine the last couple of weeks. Just going at his own pace, is all.”

“I know.” A sigh escaped Simon’s mouth. “And I’m glad that he’s able to be a kid now, but being a kid includes doing your homework.”

Nova thought of the classes she was taking at a local university. She was doing her best to keep up with her online work, but as the weeks dragged on, she was losing motivation. “This quarantine is probably nothing for Max, remember? I’m sure he does his work whenever he wants to because he actually enjoys doing it.” She shrugged. “Better than sitting around surrounded by glass walls.”

“You’re probably right,” Hugh added, washing his hands once the last of the groceries were out of the bags. “I’m not too worried about him, just as long as I get to see his face once a day.” He chuckled at his own words. Simon offered a smile in support.

Once all the groceries were stored away, Nova and Adrian headed downstairs, taking the laptop with them.

__________

Adrian stood from his seat, where he had previously already been on edge.

“Nova, where are you going?” The glare he received was enough to scare off anyone else. He had seen this side of her before, though, and was unfazed. “It’s almost midnight,” he added, only increasing the glare.

“Anywhere but here.” Her eyes turned to Hugh, who crossed his arms in response. The two were arguing. Again. It was something that was new to their quarantine, having only surfaced about a week ago. They liked to argue over literally anything, from who got to have control over the remote to whether or not Nova should be a part of their daily “family walks” to the current state of the government and the involvement of the Renegades, who were no longer in charge but were still heavily tied into politics. Hell, even the weather wasn’t safe from their growing agitation with one another. Today, everything had been going fine, for once, until Hugh just had to bring up a curfew, as Nova liked to leave the house at odd hours.

“This house is a fucking nightmare.” She gripped the keys to her motorcycle in her hand and turned to the door. From beside him, Adrian heard Max mutter something about irony under his breath. He too, despite entering the years of being a disagreeable teenager, was sick of the fighting.

“Language, young lady,” Hugh said, warning laced in his tone.

“Once again, you’re not my dad,” Nova gritted out. She opened the front door, revealing the darkness outside. “And you never will be.”

“Nova, what he’s asking isn’t completely unreasonable.” Simon ran a hand through his hair and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re in our home for who knows how long, so as parents, you’re now our responsibility. Even when you’re not under our roof, you’re our responsibility. We just want you to be safe.”

“If you don’t want to follow our simple rules, then why are you even here? We’re paying for an apartment not two miles north from here, and you’re not even there. Instead you’re here, wasting our time and resources.” Even though the words weren’t directed at him, Adrian felt a chill go down his spine.

Nova’s mouth opened, and she stared at Hugh blankly. Adrian could’ve sworn he saw her eyes welling up. “I’m here because I didn’t want to be alone. I’ve been alone my entire goddamn life, and I didn’t know if I could handle doing it again.” She swallowed, hand turning on the screen door. “But it’s not like I expect you to understand.” And then she was out the door.

Adrian rushed forward, eyeing his dad coldly. “Seriously?”

“She’s out of line!” Hugh defended, although Adrian could see the regret in his features.

Choosing not to answer him, Adrian shook his head and went outside. Nova was at the end of the driveway, sitting on her motorcycle and looking down at the ground. Adrian approached her slowly, making sure his steps were loud so that she knew he was there.

“I don’t walk to talk about it.” She hid her face even more from him when he bent down. “You’re welcome to come with me, but I don’t want you to get in trouble for breaking curfew.” Her voice soured at the word.

“I understand why you’re mad, but don’t avoid me because of it.” He lightly nudged her chin with his knuckles.

“He’s just so...so…” she lifted her head up, running a hand through her hair in frustration as she tried to find the right words

“Stubborn? Controlling? Self righteous?”

“Yes.” She let out a laugh, though it was void of humor. “It’s just...who does he think he is? I’m an adult. Even if he was my father, he can’t control what I can and cannot do.”

“You seem to forget that I’ve had to live with him for years,” Adrian said dryly. He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together. “I’m an adult, too, but that doesn’t matter because he pays the bills.”

Nova gave him a long look. “You really need your own place.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“But you get what I mean.” She looked down at their hands, turning them around to examine the back of his. “I’m not his kid. It’s different with you because you’re his son.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to keep you safe.” Her grip on him tightened, just slightly. Even though it had been a few years since the events surrounding the supernova, Nova still had trouble believing that her former enemies actually cared about her. It was hard to trust them when it had been ingrained in her from a young age that they were the bad guys.

“I can take care of myself fine. I’ve been out in the middle of the night so many times I’ve lost count. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.”

Adrian sighed and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. There wouldn’t be any reasoning with her, at least not tonight. He had to let her cool down and return to the subject when she had a clearer mind. “At least come back inside? We can go play video games downstairs, or watch a movie, or do anything you want. I’m sure once you and Hugh are both calmed down, you can reach a compromise.”

“But I don’t want a fucking com-”

“Or he’ll see things your way,” he tacked on quickly. Right. When she got like this, it had to be her way. It was funny, how she resented Hugh at times for his stubbornness, when she was equally as stubborn if not more so. This quarantine was really getting to all of them. Adrian couldn’t wait for the day life could go back to normal.

“Adrian? Nova?” Adrian turned his head around to see Max, who was squinting at them through the dark, despite the outside lights being on.

“What’s up, Max?” Nova shifted her body on the bike to face the teen.

“Pops wants to know if you’re coming inside soon. He needs to set the alarm so he and Dad can go to bed.” Max paused, eyeing the bike. “Unless you’re going for a ride, then he’ll leave it off.”

Adrian waited for Nova to answer, as it was up to her. Nova ran her free hand over the bike, then sighed.

“We’ll be in right behind you. I was just...checking some things on her.” All three knew she was lying, but Nova was still learning how to express her emotions in front of others. Even in front of Max, someone she got along with as well as she did with Adrian.

“Alright.” Max turned to leave, then glanced back at her. “You know, things are rough right now, and I know it isn’t easy for everyone to be in isolation for so long, but,” he shrugged, “at least we’re together. I was able to make it in a quarantine for ten years with no one but myself and the doctors for company, so this is easy for me, but I know I’m probably the only person on this planet who thinks that way.” He let out a soft laugh. “I guess I’m just trying to say that I’m glad you’re here, and that I’m glad our family is quarantining together.” The smile he shot her was genuine. He turned back around and walked back to the house, where Adrian could see the outlines of his dads watching at the door.

“Huh.” Adrian watched his brother go inside. “Just when you think he’s starting to learn how to be a proper kid-”

“-he goes and spouts shit like that?” Nova finished, shaking her head. Adrian could see the small smile on her face through the curls hiding her features.

“Yeah.” Adrian squeezed her hand. “C’mon, let’s go back inside.”

“Okay.”

__________

Nova placed the mixing bowl in the sink and turned on the faucet. She reached into a drawer and grabbed a towel, placing it under the running water. The kitchen was a mess, although she had seen it in worse states. At least the ingredients were all stored away so that she could get started on wiping down the counters. Hugh and Simon were at headquarters for the day, as their presence was required for something Nova didn’t care enough to know about, and they figured it would be best to work from there instead of coming home. And, according to Simon, them being out in public and at headquarters would be good for publicity. It had been a while since they stepped into work, seeing as even the Renegades had to obey social distancing orders.

Point being, they were out of the house, so Nova could do whatever she wanted without questions being asked. And she had grown to appreciate baking during quarantine, among her long list of new and revisited hobbies. The Everhart-Westwoods always, to Nova’s surprise, had sweet tooths, so they never minded that Nova made a mess of their kitchen; it was just when Hugh or Simon entered the kitchen and started asking a bunch of questions that got on Nova’s nerves. Today, she could bake in peace.

Or so she thought.

“Mm. Smells good in here.” She looked up at her boyfriend, who just entered the room. He peeked at the oven. “Cupcakes?”

“Muffins,” Nova corrected, setting the used towel next to the sink. There was dried paint on his forehead, as well as on his hands. She had to shake her head. How was it possible to get so dirty? Well, she should speak for herself and her flour-covered apron.

“Oh, well, same thing.” He shrugged and grabbed a water glass from a cabinet.

Nova blinked and reached for the remote, which was sitting beside her, and paused the show she was watching on the kitchen’s small TV. “No. No not really.”

Adrian chuckled and nudged her lightly as he passed her to the fridge. “Yeah, kind of. The only difference is cupcakes have frosting.”

Nova scoffed. “The only difference? They’re two completely different things. That’s like saying ice cream and gelato are the same.”

Adrian turned to face her, leaning against the fridge. He took a sip of his water. “Ice cream and gelato are the same. One’s just claimed by the Italians.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Those aren’t the same, either, dumbass. Ice cream, clearly from its name, has more cream than gelato. And gelato’s more dense than ice cream. Those are just two differences.” She crossed her arms. “There are more.”

“And? What does that have to do with muffins and cupcakes?”

“Because they’re not the same.” Nova had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. And Adrian claimed he was a smart person. Yeah, maybe smart compared to sloths. “Muffins are considered a bread. Cupcakes are...well...cake. Two completely different recipes. You can’t just slap some frosting on a blueberry muffin and say it’s a cupcake. Maybe it looks like one, but the flavor and textures are way off.”

“They both are made the exact same way, babe. No difference.” With the way he was smirking, Nova had the thought that he could just be messing with her.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me.” She glared at him. “Fine. If you won’t believe me, the baker, then you don’t have to eat any of my muffins. Not cupcakes.”

He groaned and reached for her, but she dove out of his reach. “Nova, don’t be like this. I’m sorry. They’re not the same, okay? Happy?”

“Not until you’re honest.” She checked the timer above the oven. “I’m going downstairs for a minute.” Pointing a finger at him, she added, “Don’t mess with them. I’ll know.”

“Admitting defeat?” he called at her back.

“Hell no,” she tossed over her shoulder. “This conversation is far from over, buddy.”

She definitely heard him mutter rudely how he knew, but chose to ignore it. After all, she was the bigger person in the relationship.

__________

Adrian turned into a parking spot and turned off the car. He glanced over at Nova, who was giving him a very pointed look.

“The park? What did you plan? A picnic?” That was, in fact, the plan, but only part of it.

Leaning over, he planted a gentle kiss on her lips. It only softened the look a little. “You’ll see, nosey.” He unbuckled himself and opened the driver door. “Now, come on.”

She rolled her eyes, but got out as well. Seeing her in a pair of cutoff shorts and a simple t-shirt was refreshing, as she had been wearing sweats for the past two months, ever since the world was sent into quarantine. She and Adrian both had been dawning the same three pairs of pants and shirts for weeks now. But, this was the first time they both actually got out of the house, save for their daily walks or motorcycle/car rides, so it was only fitting to get dressed up for the occasion. And by dressed up he meant ditching the sweatpants.

Also, it was Nova’s birthday. Adrian hated that she was being forced to spend it unceremoniously, when so many of her birthdays had gone practically unnoticed growing up with the Anarchists, so he took it upon himself as her boyfriend to do what he could for her. And that meant having a socially distanced picnic in the park with their friends, who they hadn’t seen in person in months.

They walked down the sidewalk hand in hand, going into the grass whenever a biker or runner passed by them to maintain distance. Adrian almost wanted to pull his mask out from his pocket, but knew he was probably fine. Besides, if he put his mask on, Nova would follow, and he knew how much she hated wearing them, for obvious reasons. They were outside, and there were hardly any people in the park.

“You’re an idiot, Adrian Everhart,” Nova said once they could see their friends, but there was a smile on her face. They were all spread out on blankets, making a circle, and in the center sat an unoccupied blanket piled with food and gifts.

“Hey, I can’t take all the credit.” He squeezed her hand, grinning down at her.

“It’s about time you two showed up,” Oscar said, checking his watch. “We’ve been here for hours. We’re starving.” He stood and went to the middle to start making a plate. Adrian made a face at his back. He had specifically asked that they wait for Nova until they started eating in the group chat, so he guessed Oscar was holding his word. He waited, after all.

“Twenty minutes,” Danna corrected from her spot beside Narcissa. She looked at them and rolled her eyes. “Happy Birthday, Nova.”

Everyone chorused in their ‘Happy Birthdays’ and Nova thanked them as she and Adrian sat down on the one remaining blanket. “You guys didn’t have to go and do this for me.” She turned her gaze specifically toward Adrian. He raised his hands in defense.

“Blame Oscar for putting the idea in my head. All he ever talks about when we video call is how bored he is.”

“That’s true.” Nova shook her head in amusement. “This is very sweet, but don’t expect me to cry or anything.”

“You cried on your seventeenth birthday, and that’s enough for us,” Ruby teased.

“That was literally two years ago.” Nova ran a hand over her face. “It meant nothing.”

“Mhm,” was Ruby’s response, but Adrian could tell she wasn’t convinced. None of them were, obviously.

Nova peered at the food pile. “Is that Mediterranean pizza I see?”

“Yeah, and it’s all yours,” Oscar clarified, passing a plate he made for Ruby to her before sitting down himself. “I still don’t understand how you like that. There’s not even meat on it!”

“There’s also cannoli’s.” Adrian stood to go make them both plates. He knew that cannoli’s were one of the few desserts she liked, probably because they weren’t that heavy. “Do you want one or two?”

She pondered the question for a moment, then smiled at him. “Two.”

When he returned with their food, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“What was that for?” He handed her plate over.

“For being you, and for giving me the best birthdays ever.” She shifted her body to lean against him. “How’d you know I wanted to see everyone for my birthday, anyway?”

“Because I know you.” He kissed her forehead. “Happy Birthday, Nova.”

__________

Bonus crack scene:

“I would like to thank everyone for joining me today,” Nova said, swirling the water in the wine glass she snatched from the cabinet. Since Hugh wouldn’t let her drink actual wine, this was the next best thing. She cleared her throat. “I took it upon myself to observe the members of this household over the course of a week and rate everyone on their performances.” She pointed to the pyramid of papers set up on the wall, held there by type. There were pictures of everyone in the household behind a white sheet of paper. Starting at the bottom on the left side was the worst member, and the one at the top was the best. Why she decided to do this, she had little clue, but she figured it would be an entertaining activity to spice up everyone’s day.

“Is that what this is? I thought it was something actually serious.” Hugh leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. There was a smile on his lips.

“It is serious.” She pointed her glass at him. The fast movement caused a bit of water to slosh over the side. “It has come to my attention that there are people in this household who have some improvement to work on if they want to move up next week.”

“If I’m not at the top, I’m breaking up with you,” Adrian joked, adjusting the glasses on his face. She narrowed her eyes at the camera he was pointing at her.

“I do not accept bribes.” Tearing off the first piece of paper, she began. There was a snicker, probably Max. “Hugh.” He immediately started protesting, but Nova silenced him. “No, no, no. You’re mean to me. Always looking to post up or some shit.”

“Language,” he warned, though his tone was light.

“Not to mention you don’t let me express my true self by cussing,” she added sharply. “Also, you tried to kill me three years ago and I’m sorry, but I just can’t forgive my haters like that. Try better next week, okay?”

“Hold on, wait a second.” Hugh held up a hand. “First of all, young lady, if you want to bring up the past, it goes both ways, but we’ve both changed for the be-”

“No comments at this time,” Nova interrupted. She ripped off the next sheet of paper. “Next up is Nova.” Laughter broke out in the room. Even she couldn’t help from smiling. “Not gonna lie, I held out hope for this one, but she’s got a lot of issues, if you know what I mean. Always picking an argument, refuses to participate in family activities, and is kind of just there. Doesn’t really do much of anything. The only reasons she’s above Hugh is because, for one, she’s far more attractive, and she bakes stuff for everyone.

“Adrian-”

“Oh, come on!”

“-you refused to cuddle with me yesterday and watch guilty pleasure movies because you said you were busy. You argued with me the other day on the validity of the Star Wars prequels and sequels.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “And you’re filming me without my consent. Other than those things, though,” she shrugged, “pretty cool boyfriend. You didn’t say anything when I stole one of your sweatshirts the other day, so that gets you some points.”

“Wait, the gray-”

“Max is next.” She tossed the white paper to the ground. “You never say anything mean to me, unlike some members in this household, but that could also be because you spend all day on video games. Because of that, I’m afraid you can’t be higher.”

“Hey, I’ll settle for third.” Max shrugged, grinning.

“And that’s why I like you!” She nodded firmly. “In second place, we have Simon. Who doesn’t like Simon? You always have something nice to say, and on occasion, you’ll back me up in an argument because you’re an intellectual. I always enjoy our deep conversations, too. Truly a wonderful person.”

“Thank you, Nova. I enjoy our talks, as well.” Simon chuckled. He looked pretty pleased to be on top.

“And that leaves us with,” she ripped off the last paper at the top, causing the room to erupt in laughter and clapping, “Obi Wan Kenobi. Truly an iconic and handsome man. Every time I watch Star Wars, he brings up my serotonin levels. Not just because he’s cute, but because he can land some sick burns.”

It was easy to say that, thanks to Adrian’s video, Nova started a trend all over the world.

#nova artino #adrian everhart #danna bell #oscar silva #ruby tucker #narcissa cronin #max everhart #hugh everhart #simon westwood #renegades #archenemies #supernova #supernova spoilers #my writing

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hubbytaeil · 4 years

Photo

OPERATION BIG BROTHER - Chapter 1

Words: 1k9

Genre: Secret services AU

Seoul, South Korea, 9:47 PM

This city is loud, intrusive and obnoxious. People walking down the street, already too drunk for their own sake; the smell of alcohol, gasoline and car tires makes you scrunch your nose. But you’re used to it. This is where you work, where you decided to relocate. This is your home, but it sure doesn’t feel like it.

Sometimes you wonder if you made the right decision. Sometimes you think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t left your hometown all those years ago, with just a backpack thrown on your shoulders.

The raspy voice of the taxi driver makes you snap out of your thoughts. “This is your stop, miss.” “Thank you. Here, keep the change.” You hand him the money and get out of the stiffy taxi and make your way through the crowd, stomping your heels. You get a few stares but you don’t care not in the least. Maybe you exaggerated by wearing a five-inch heel tonight, but there were never other occasions to show them off. And on top of that, they definetely make you stand out from everyone else. And you like that. You enjoy the power you feel every time you walk down this street on your way to work. The people that stare at you do it either with admiration or disgust, that’s on them to decide but nothing can break your confidence. Nothing can break the strength that you fought so hard to obtain. You’re untouchable.

Two turn to the left, one turn to the right. You can’t miss it. This had been your routine for almost five years. The dimly lit sign with a soft yellow hue that says “Cheetah Bar” is almost like a warm embrace in the cold night. You skip the line in front of the entrance and show your badge to the bouncer after receiving another round of glares.

You push the fancy glass doors open and you notice that they’re finally playing some R&B like you requested and you’re pleased. You peer into the almost too dark room to see if any of your colleagues have already arrived but you can’t seem to find anybody. After walking around with an absent mind for a few minutes you decide to sit down at the bar.

“Good evening y/n” “Good evening, Kun.” You greet the blue-haired bartender like you always do. “I think you’re a bit too early.” He says while masterfully mixing a colourful cocktail for a client. “Yeah, I figured.” You respond coldly but immediately regretting it after looking at his perplexed expression. “Sorry.” You mumble while looking the other way. “You know, there’s nothing wrong with coming in early it’s just that… I’m worried about you, y/n. I know you love your work but you should find time to rest too.” his words are sincere, you can see it in his eyes. “You don’t need to worry about me, Kun. Really, I’m fine.”

He doesn’t try to insist on the subject, Kun knows you too well. Instead he just smiles at you which never fails to warm you up inside. He seems to be one of the few people who are able to steal a smile from you, which is surprising to all your colleagues since their nickname for you is cold hearted bitch. Even if your intimidating appearance can deceive at times, Kun never thought badly of you. He always knew that there was more that met the eye in you.

“Did you notice the music change?” says your friend while pouring you a glass with a pink liquid inside. You question him with your eyes. “Don’t worry. It’s grapefruit juice.” Kun answers immediately. With a smirk you take the glass between your digits. “I noticed. Thank you for considering my kind request.” “If that’s what you call kind…” a little laugh escapes from both of you. As a matter of fact, you had been bothering over the music for weeks. “I mean… was I wrong?” “We’ll see when more clients come in.” You pout a little while enjoying your juice.

“Oh, by the way, how’s Lucas?” asks Kun while cleaning a glass. You choke at that name and you start coughing. Your friend has a confused look on his face, probably wondering what’s wrong.

“Oh, well… I don’t know, really.” You try your best to sound convincing but clearly it doesn’t work. “What do you mean you don’t know? You guys have to work side by side 24/7.” He wasn’t wrong.

“I just haven’t heard from him, Kun.” Your palms are sweaty now. “He’ll come tonight, I’m sure of it.” You’re not sure at all. In fact, you know that he won’t show up. He’s too thin-skinned to face you without getting mad. Kun is clearly preoccupied seeing how pale you have got after mentioning Lucas. Before he can even try to make you feel better, the light bulb above your head starts flickering. You recognise the amount of time that passes between flickers instantly. “I have to go now… see you later, Kun.” You say with a hurried tone, wanting to get away from the topic Lucas as soon as possible. “See you later, y/n.” Kun is hesitant in waving you goodbye. He hates it when you behave like this, but he understands that it’s clearly not the time for a heart-to-heart talk. You heave a sigh while standing up from the stool and start heading to the backdoor. As you make your way through you can feel your heart getting heavier. You’ll have to deal with it eventually.

“Please, identify yourself.” Says the robotic voice as always. You put your badge in front of the scanner. “Code name: Evita, Rainbow unit. It’s nice to see you again.” The door unlocks to reveal the hidden elevator. You descend various floor before arriving at the right one. The sound of typing on keyboards, people running around and paper slips greets you. You bow to your colleagues although some of them don’t do the same. But this doesn’t bother you. “She’s here.” You hear some whispers coming from the cubicles. “Good evening.” You make sure that your tone is loud and clear and that everyone in the office can hear you. The whispers stop.

“Y/n you’re here early! That’s great, you have to go see Mr Lee immediately. Go, quickly!” Sooyoung the secretary shouts at you. You nod automatically in response but you don’t pick up the pace of your walk, knowing how exaggerate Sooyoung can be sometimes. However today doesn’t seem to be the case. “What did I just say?! Go, run!” she shouts this time louder than before. Now you’re starting to worry.

“Here you are. I’ve been waiting for ages.” The familiar voice of your boss is what you hear as soon as you get into his office. He’s sitting at his desk with a computer in front of him. He looks at you briefly before getting his eyes back on the screen. You notice the drops of sweat on his face and his entire posture is incredibly tense. You’ve never seen him like this.

“I’m here now, Mr Lee.” “How many times do I have to tell you that you have the permission to call me Ten? Anyway, we don’t have time for that right now. Actually, we don’t have time for everything!”. He runs his hands through his blonde hair while sighing. “We found a lead, y/n.” your mouth falls open in shock. You know exactly what he’s talking about. Nine months ago, the president of the JJ Inc., one of the wealthiest and most relevant companies in the Country, had received a number of anonymous death threats. The latest had been a month ago, a bomb placed inside of his car, which thankfully you manage to defuse in time. The search for the perpetrators had been going on restlessly , but every time you thought you were close to the truth, everything would turn out to be a false lead.

“Tell me everything. Who are they? Why are they doing this?” you reply without taking a breath in between. “We’re still not sure about the ‘who’, but after analysing every single camera footage we had of the day of the last incident we were able to track them.” Ten turn his screen to you revealing a photograph of two men wearing all black with their face hidden behind a mask and a cap in front of the president’s house. There they are. You have been looking for them for months, this doesn’t feel real. “They call themselves ‘the wolf brothers’.” You chuckle subtly. “Original.” The irony in your voice doesn’t amuse your boss as it usually does. You recollect yourself. “How do we know we’re not getting played again?” you question while holding your hands in a tight fist. “Someone blew the whistle, someone we can trust. Now we know where they’re hiding… for now. Apparently, they don’t stay in the same place for too long and they operate in small groups.” At this point you’re at the edge of your seat. “And…?” Ten always likes to keep the tension high when it comes to missions but this time it’s not amusing at all. “You’re flying to Hong Kong. Tonight.” You stand up abruptly making your boss jump in his seat. “We’re going to catch them, no matter the cost.” Your heart is racing as you feel the adrenaline rushes through your veins. This is the moment you had been waiting for months and months. And now you were the closest that you’ve ever been. All of a sudden you remembered that you were not alone in this. “Am I… going alone?” you ask carefully. “Of course not! You and Lucas have been working on this non-stop day and night, obviously you’re going together. You guys are our best agents, you know that.” Even though you knew that was the answer you were going to get, you still feel uneasy.

“Okay, I’ll call him and we’ll go to the airport together.” “Actually…” Ten looks away from you while playing with the several rings on his fingers. “He’s already in Hong Kong.” You knew the reason why he was already there, and Ten probably knew too judging from his expression. “Of course.” Is all that you manage to say. Of course, he would run away. Of course, he would. “Y/n…” “Yes?” you shoot your gaze in Ten’s direction, trying to hold back the tears. “Whatever happened between you two… please, don’t let it get in the way of the mission.” “That will never happen, sir.” You reassure your boss. And you believe in your words, your work has always been your most important priority. Lucas just happened to be part of the job and you had to deal with it. Ten doesn’t add anything and leans back on the black leather chair. “Xiaojun is waiting for you in the car; you’d better hurry, we don’t have much time.” You bow to him and head to the door. “One more thing.” You turn around waiting for whatever he’s about to say. “Remember that the key to our job is professionalism. Never forget that, Evita.” Those final words hit you like a dagger. Ten knows which buttons to push and when to push them. You never understood how was he so good at reading people. He certainly knew how to read you. He had trained you personally for years and he had asked specifically for you after he had been asked to direct a special unit for the government secret services. He trusted you with his life and he cared for you like a brother. And because of that, seeing you crumble was his greatest nightmare. If you were to throw your career away, he wouldn’t be able to take it. “I know that Ten. I know.” Your voice breaks at the end but you close the door before he has the chance to see the tears run down your face.

a/n: this what happens when you rewatch Operation UNCLE for the fourth time lmao, let me know what you think 💚

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ddaenghoney · 4 years

Text

chapter four

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): graphic sexual depictions (fingering, like really minor dirty talk; it’s mostly dirty praise idk, oral; female receiving, cum swallowing, vaginal penetration via male penis(typing this made me laugh so hard lmao), male ejaculation without condom); i’d say it’s entirely sweet sex but uh-

Word count: 4931

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

Yoongi stands outside of the CEO office, his back against the wall beside the elevator. Waiting until the door shuts behind you, he straightens, pressing the button next to his waist to signal the elevator. Meeting eyes with his, you know there’s a lot he wants to say, but the vagueness of his expression doesn’t give you an idea of a tone. Another lecture you’re sure. Just to continue the growing streak. Yerin’s secretary glances towards you then Yoongi, curiosity taking over her to hope for something interesting to occur.

You simply follow him into the elevator.

“What was all of that?” He asks you when the door shuts, eyes peering in frustration, but you believe him to be shocked more than anything. “I’m now your fake boyfriend?” A single, breathy laugh leaves his mouth. Bitter.

“I guess,” You’re unable to meet his gaze, instead staring at the unlit elevator buttons and the lack of movement from other people calling for the elevator on this oddly slow day. “I don’t even know.”

“If I knew this would happen,” He sighs, rubbing his temples and never finishing the end of the thought. Leaving it to himself.

“This is my fault.” Your voice is barely a whisper, severity of everything catching up with you and how you’ve managed to cause trouble for Jimin and now Yoongi, who’s new to SoundWave and probably hating the employment.

“No.” Yoongi shakes his head, then exhales once more, trying to rationalize. “This is complete shit, but it’s not your fault.” In the first place, Jimin having a contract forbidding him from dating is one that Yoongi thought was just a bad rumor in the industry-- something that people didn’t actually have. There wasn’t a single employee in his last company that was forced under that rule, even though it had been frowned upon to be in public relationships. Incredibly frowned upon in a certain case. Still, Yoongi never figured the lack of a dating-ban clause in his contract and the new direction of his stage persona would lead him into a fake relationship. Irony with no humor. “Why aren’t you publically an employee?”

You reach for the elevator buttons, clicking the ground floor. The machinery shifts, starting the descent.

“Because,” You’re still hesitant about the prospect of explaining your situation. Anyone at SoundWave that has anything to do with music production knows, and Yoongi shouldn’t be an exception. It’s not like he is an intern, or part-time assistant. You may even work with him in the future, but you can’t remember ever explaining your position to someone other than Jimin. And that was only because he was whom you worked with often when first starting. “I write songs and produce, but I don’t ever get credited for it.”

“What?” Yoongi sounds like he thinks he didn’t correctly hear you. “Wait, what do you mean? Who gets the credit then?”

You sigh, eyeing the floor number that grows smaller and smaller, but not quick enough. “Whatever group or idol that ends up using them.”

“You,” He’s without comprehension, expression on his face ridiculously confused. Maybe even appalled by your job, or that he is also a part of the extremely large group under the assumption that they aren’t being lied to. Only to find out that it’s an acceptable and ongoing aspect of the company. One you’re acceptant of; otherwise you would’ve quit years ago or never taken the job to begin with. “You let your work get used under someone else’s name-- you’re lying to people, and you’re just letting that happen?”

You glare at him, but stay silent. Even if you want to argue, that’s how it is. You don’t have the power to change it, and years earlier you didn’t actually mind sliding ethics aside. You want to tell him that you’re not letting the lies occur willingly, but by the looks of his face-- something appearing increasingly unsettled and distant about your untruthful position-- you know it won’t matter. He won’t understand and maybe is even right to have his opinion of you drop to the ground.

The elevator door opens prompting you to practically jump out. “I’m going home.”

Yoongi stays inside of it, posture weighted in contempt of everything that he’s just gone through. As if the merger couldn’t get anymore terrible, now he is in a falsified relationship with someone that helps SoundWave lie to the general public just for the sake of appearances, and he’s stuck dealing with it. He groans when the doors shut again, taking a moment to bask in the nonsense of it all before clicking the button to his studio’s floor.

Outside the building you pace, considering the option of calling Jimin, but then also considering that he hasn’t texted you and is likely angry and sorting through his own thoughts of this mess. You groan, startling a passerby on their walk to wherever. Taking no notice you shake your head, pulling out your phone and ripping the bandaid off,

Y/N, 3:43pm: Can we talk?

You stare at the message thread for a passing minute, then lock the screen. He could be busy doing a thousand other things, there isn’t a reason for him to automatically get back to your message, and he could still be upset-- the screen flashes with a notification, and you immediately unlock,

Jimin, 3:44pm: Yeah, I get off close to nine.

A breath releases from your lips. At least he responded. Another message appears, the contents seizing up the next beat of your heart.

Jimin, 3:44pm: Can I call you right now?

Y/N, 3:45pm: Yeah, of course.

You descend south of the company, heading towards a nearby coffee shop when the call comes in. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Jimin sits in the recording booth, waiting for the producer to meet him there at the start of the next hour. His legs gently push on the floor, swaying the computer chair side to side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” The concern in his voice eases you, as well as the seemingly calm demeanor. Though there is a chance he’s feigning it, you suppose. “I’m so sorry about the thing with Yoongi. I swear nothing happened-”

“I believe you, lovely.” Softly spoken, head nodding even though you couldn’t see him. Jimin bites his lip, bothered that you’ve likely been incredibly worried about what he thought ever since Yerin dropped the words. “You wouldn’t do that to me. I trust you.”

His sincerity is warm, nearly causing the fuzz of emotions in your eyes to trickle because of how much your mind was pressured from the idea that he would misunderstand. You breathe through your lips, cracking the air audibly. Jimin sits upright on his end, concern raising his voice’s volume,

“Baby, are you crying?”

“No.” You’re quick to cover up but the word itself sounds like a tremble. Jimin frowns, rubbing his face,

“I’m sorry, I would’ve texted you but I was worried your phone’s notification would be loud while you were talking to Yerin. I didn’t want it to interrupt and make her angrier.” You rub your eyes feeling no tears and just the annoying heat that seems to release from all of the stress of the past couple of hours. “What did she tell you anyways? You didn’t get in more trouble did you?”

“No, it’s nothing.” Just a speech that put you in your place, but it’s not worth mentioning. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer you over the weekend, Jimin.”

“It’s fine.” Jimin taps his index finger on the armrest, then pausing the motion as you speak up,

“No, it’s not fine. I shouldn’t have ignored you. I wasn’t being fair.” You sigh. He’s quiet at your words, surprised at the conclusion of your actions.

“I was acting like an idiot, Y/N.” He glances to the clock, knowing the producer is usually early. “I’m not mad at you for it, I deserved it. Anyways, I need to go. I just called because I wanted to hear your voice and make sure you were okay.” You smile softly at the admission. “Come to my apartment later and we’ll talk more, alright?”

“Okay,” You nod, glancing to the sign on the coffee shop that stated they are closed for the day. Unusual for a Monday. Yet fitting for the kind of day it is. “I’ll make sure no one notices me going in.”

---

Jimin can’t help chuckling at you when he opens his front door. A large zip-up hoodie drapes over you with the hood covering your face, and sunglasses complete your, to your opinion, lowkey look despite sunglasses being useless at night. You’re pouting as you remove the shades, stepping into the apartment.

“I bet the cab driver thought you were having a day.”

“He wouldn’t be wrong.” You shrug, slipping the hood off and dipping your eyes from his. Jimin sighs, head nodding in agreement. “He was telling me I was lucky to get a cab tonight and everyone is close to the city center today, so at least I got a ride if nothing else.” Jimin’s head tilts at your seemingly lack of awareness to the date,

“You know it’s New Year’s Eve don’t you?” His sentence barely completes before you’re looking back at him in shock. When you consider all of the closed establishments and lack of people at work, it makes sense, but you’re in disbelief that you forgot. Jimin smiles in endearment, reaching for your hand, “It’s been a complicated week.”

He leads you to the couch, and still calm. With all of the information he heard from Yerin, you assumed Jimin would act differently. At least be asking fervently for answers. He said on the phone that he trusts you, but despite that you wonder how he’s not appearing to be upset about it. Sitting down beside him, you watch Jimin pull his knee up on the cushion facing you. His hand fiddles with yours, thumb stroking the top.

“What should we do?”

The question isn’t one you anticipated on your way over. The diverse amount of things Jimin could mean with it flutter your mind like gusts in a tree, and the lack of strong emotion in how he spoke make your eyebrows harden in thought. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” His eyes fall to where your hands meet. Jimin squeezes tighter. A pound in his chest. “Don’t you think we should stop this all?”

Muscles tense throughout your body. The concept is so far removed from what you expected. His passive attitude to go along with it drives your head to draw a blank. You thought coming here there could be strong words in an argument of explanations, and apologies for the things Yerin called you both into the office for. Not this. Your hand squeezes around his and Jimin casts his gaze back up. Nervousness is apparent, paired with your head shaking.

Jimin bites his inner lip, trying to remain rational despite the hurt in your eyes, “We,” He hesitates, remembering the first time that he kissed you. “We’re just hurting each other, love.”

“How?” Voice higher, confused. “We’re,” You swallow dryly, “Not even dating, Jimin, why do you sound like you think we should break up.” A tiny, hollow laugh, devoid of humor. You watch helplessly as he nods,

“I know, so before it gets worse than what happened today, we should stop.” Jimin’s voice slows down, like he doesn’t want to complete the sentence. Sadder. You inhale, trying to reason his tactics in your mind,

“Then let’s date.”

“Love-”

“I don’t want to stop.” Jimin bites his lip, frowning at you while feeling the ducts of his eyes well because of your pleas. Your hand shakes in his grip, and he wills himself to stop from hugging you. “Please, I don’t want to stop. I like how we were, I,” You remember saying the opposite to him at the club. He recalls the same thing, smiling joylessly.

“We can’t stand up for each other, baby. I can’t be there for you like you deserve.” Jimin talks about the company, but also in society’s perspective. Yerin made it clear that he can’t be in a relationship publically, and for that reason the relationship between you started. Hidden. Incomplete. Jimin told you at the beginning that you should both stop if you caught feelings for somebody else and you agreed because it was just fun when it started. It wasn’t serious, but it turned into something deeper. You know that and know Jimin knows it too.

“I care about you so much.”

Jimin’s lips part at the simple, yet utterly sincere and loving words. Contrasted by the sadness of the entire situation. His hand clenches around yours. He thinks the same, but with what he knows about himself, he shouldn’t let this continue. The few cool tears dripping from his eyes plead with him as well. To admit to you the feelings that he has, but it’s more complicated.

“Jimin,” He loves hearing his name through your lips. His tear-stained face watches you move, knowing he should stop you. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t and your lips are on his. Jimin’s hand abandons yours for your waist, to keep you from getting too close, but he kisses you back, relishing in your touch against his better judgement.

“Baby.” Jimin’s hand tightens around the side of your waist when you attempt to move closer. Mere inches from your face, his eyes lock with yours, searching for your thoughts.

“Please,” Air hitches in Jimin’s throat while your arms cascade around his neck. Your voice soft. Begging once more, by your lips kissing him sweetly. Like candy. Familiarly. “You don’t want to stop.”

“We should though.” A waver in his tone. Jimin really doesn’t want to stop, let you go, force you from his life.

“Just kiss me.” Believing you can convince him otherwise, your arms gently tug. Coaxing. In a more sensible time, you know this isn’t how to keep him with you. You know that there are problems, and the way Jimin and you are now won’t work. But you love him.

And this isn’t a sensible time.

Your hoodie is left on the couch, stripped off before Jimin lifts you to take you to his bedroom. Your lips attach along his jaw, trailing until you come in contact with the spot that elicits an expected grunt. Your arms tighten around him, holding yourself to him while working at the skin, leaving it sensitive and bruised before he lays you down.

His fingers caress on the area, smirking softly at your quick, thorough work, but his jaw tightens when you waste no time and remove your long sleeve. Inhaling a long breath, Jimin crawls over top of you,pressing your head back into the mattress as he kisses you firmly.

“What if you regret this?” Jimin’s voice blisters against your neck, syllables left in the skin like a trail leading to your collarbone where he pauses, kissing feverishly. He knows you won’t change your mind, more so when you audibly sigh and mix your fingertips into his hair,

“I can’t regret you.” You raise your hips the short distance to rub against Jimin’s, listening to his groan when he feels you against his growing bulge, “I want you, Jimin.”

For more than just the night.

Jimin’s face equals with your own, lost in your eyes until you kiss him again, prompting him to flatten against you more. His hips rub slowly over yours, firmly pressing his hardened erection against your pelvis. You moan against his lips, fueling Jimin’s emotions to win over logic. His hand reaches for the button on your jeans quickly, desiring more contact. He halts when you nudge him upwards, immediately thinking you want to stop until your fingertips are undoing each button on his top. He smirks at your hands, watching you through the sultriness in his irises.

Jimin lets you be the one to push his shirt off his shoulders, then he lets it slip off his arms to lie next to your hips on the bed. Your palm finds his chest, cementing the beat of his heart to memory. He observes quietly, curious of the slowness in your actions. The intimacy of feeling his skin in a calm manner. The moment passes when your hand moves to cup his cheek, guiding him back down to you for a kiss labored in passion, but just as vulnerable as tears.

You grind your hips opposite of his motions, creating a deeper pressure that causes a small piece of profanity to fall from his lips. Jimin’s hand finds your cleavage, squeezing over your bra to make you gasp. The article is removed then in your haste for him to touch you more, earning darkened chuckles from his lips when you lift your back from the bed to unclasp the bra, your chest pressing to his. He admires you, “You’re so precious.”

“Then don’t break up with me.” Labored words escape when you’re back against his sheets. Under his focused stare you slip your arms from the bra straps, but hesitate to remove the cups when Jimin’s chest fills with air from a sharp inhale. Watching so intently, and you swear his eyes gaze lovingly as well. He reaches his hand over yours, guiding it to slide the lingerie from your chest, exposing yourself to him for a countless time. Beautiful.

“It’s better for us,” Jimin has the nerve, the stubbornness to say this in a low voice, despite the fact that the actions currently show he’s trapped in the thing he’s deemed no good. You shake your head, then are halted by the ghosting kiss from his lips, “You mean so much to me, lovely.” A longer ministration follows, filling your thoughts of the familiarity how sweet he’s always tasted. “But we can’t become a couple. I can’t let you deal with how lousy I am.”

“You’re not,” You pepper Jimin’s cheeks, fingers trailing along his back.

“You know how I am in the company.” You don’t speak against that idea, the one you never want to bring up because it felt like an instant argument. One you didn’t think Jimin realized. “And you’re wonderful and talented,” His kisses are short and repetitive against your lips, “And deserve better than all of the crap you’re put through. But I can’t help you with it. And I don’t want to be a reason you hold yourself back.”

Before you’re able to retort at his nonsensical words, Jimin’s hand reaches between your legs palm pressing against your jeans and rubbing friction into your core. Words are lost to a whimper unprepared for the contact as well as the proceeding action his hand takes rubbing roughly, making your hips move into him craving more. Jimin kisses at your neck listening to his name fall from your lips in a needy murmur.

His hand leaves your growing pile of nerves, eliciting a breathy whine that he kisses back into your mouth. Jimin unbuttons your jeans, “Take them off.” The demanding tone is contrastingly soft, leaving your heart beating in anticipation and complying in moments to help him rid the clothing. “God,” He lifts himself upright, knees pressing further into the mattress from his weight, while he looks you over: skin already appearing glistened from need, chest concaving from breaths that leave the mess of lovebites in view on your upper body. “So beautiful.” His head tilts watching the blush on your face grow from his words. “You know that though,” A coy smirk plays at his lips, while he reaches for your thighs, gently sliding you upwards on his bed, so your head comes close to the headboard. “I tell you,” Your mouth releases a moan when his fingers press against your clit through your panties, his lips leaving airy pecks on your thighs, “Every time I can,” His smirks grows when the swipe of his thumb against your wettening heat makes your legs jerk. Trying to close, but he removes the hand to grip them back in place, respreading, “I’m going to make you feel good.”

Profanity slips from your lips in a breathless stutter when he strips you completely, Jimin’s fingers rubbing into your clit like a map memorized. Easily causing your legs to wiggle, moans slipping out when one dips inside. “Jimin,” Needily begging for more as the digit slides in and out, readying you for the second while he continues laying kisses on your chest, decorating it with heat in every spot. “Feels-” You gasp when his thumb works against your clit, the sensation mixing with his fingers pumping inside of you making your hands grip his shoulder.

Nails graze the skin as Jimin’s fingers push all the way, he grunts from the force of your hand, but leaves a kiss to your jaw, “Don’t come,” Another ministration on your lips as you whimper, already knowing you were leaving his fingers wet along with his sheets from how he was expertly edging you along, “Not yet, lovely, wait for my mouth to take you over.”

Every piece of will to listen nearly disperts from just the tone of Jimin’s voice: slow, confident. You’re so willing to be pushed over that you’re unable to stop your hips bucking into his mouth when his tongue graces the entrance of your throbbing cunt. He chuckles against you, the vibrations themselves feel good, and your face heats from your own eagerness, but you’re more focused on giving him the satisfaction he wants, “Jimin, you’re so-” You gasp as his tongue dips deeper, moaning your next words, “Good, fuck; please, I want to come.”

“Let me taste you, baby,” Jimin’s hands hold your hips as you writhe from the pleasuring sensations. He groans low when your hand leaves the bed to tangle in his hair as your orgasm coaxes through. You tremble releasing yourself with long moans, hazy while Jimin’s lips lap up your arousal, muttering praise into your core. Your head lies against his mattress, chest taking full inhales, as Jimin sits upright. His tongue drags along the remainders of you on his lips, while his eyes take in your fucked body. He crawls overtop of you, kissing you and staining your tongue with your own taste.

“I want you inside me,” You cup Jimin’s face as you murmur the words. His eyes are lidden with desire at your statement, sharply inhaling when you go on, “Fuck me, baby, please I want to make you cum in me.” Jimin kisses you, moaning to your lips as your hand rubs his shaft through tight jeans. “It’s not even fair for you to still have these on,” He chuckles, and you can’t help the tiny smirk on your lips.

“You want to come again, baby; so needy for me.” Jimin kisses your nose, his pelvis moving into the motions of your hand. His inhales grows slightly labored when you give a squeeze to his hardened bulge before you’re unbuttoning his jeans. They’re removed in moments, Jimin’s own efforts to pull of his boxers, exposing his dick, erect and sensitive enough to cause his breaths to shake when he palms himself, “You’re sure about no condom?”

“You know I’m covered there,” You say staring at his length, swallowing in anticipation for the feeling of Jimin inside of you. He notices your sultry gaze and leans back towards you, kissing you tenderly.

The emotion takes you back for a second, feeling somewhere between melancholic and warm, you’re brought back to his conviction that this would be the last time Jimin intends to be intimate with you. When his lips leave yours, your eyes are focused on Jimin’s. There’s so much you want to ask him, but when he’s as convinced as he is, what good would it do. You’re the only one with feelings surpassing love, or else he wouldn’t do this.

Jimin kisses you again, using the remnants of your previous orgasm to lubricate his length, before he’s aligning himself with your entrance and easing himself in. Your chest raises from a breath, listening to Jimin’s moans against your lips as he tops out into you, “You’re so good around me, baby. Fuck,” He grunts when your hips buck to his. You moan as his grinding begins slow in full movements to get your walls acclimated to his dick, though you’re already well stimulated.

“Fuck,” You gasp as his pace suddenly changes, Jimin pulling out only to pound back in and make you moan his name loudly. He kisses your lips before moving back to your cheek, jaw, and neck, every inch he could while he pumps into you over and over, every audible sound from you encouraging his actions. “Jimin, Jimin,” You beg using his name, feeling his hand find yours, fingers meshing as your voice grows higher from an oncoming wave wanting to burst through. “I’m close- shit--”

“God, you feel so good; your pussy takes me so well, baby,” Jimin kisses your lip hungrily, “Come for me, lovely; I’m going to,” Your hand squeezes him as the orgasm washes over you, listening to Jimin’s moaning as his seed fills you, “Fucking,” You come undone with him, the ride going through your core and releasing around Jimin’s dick as you moan loudly, senselessly, not caring if anyone could possibly hear.

Labored breathing flows into the silence of his room. Your free hand guides Jimin’s face to yours for a sweet kiss that he lets linger into a honeylike warmth. Pulling out, Jimin then lets himself fall into the bed beside you, hand still holding yours with a seeming refusal to let go. He watches quietly while you look at his ceiling aimlessly, breathing still full as your bodies calm down. “You still want us to stop.” A statement with the tone of a question.

“Yeah,” He bites his lip as you turn on your side to face him. He feels your hand grip his with a tiny tremble, and your eyes alone make his heart nearly shatter. You try your best to force the tiniest of smiles, but Jimin gently shakes his head, “Don’t pretend for my sake, sweetie.”

“It hurts.” You whisper to let out the emotions that want to escape as tears. Jimin frowns, pulling you towards him and embracing you so you could hide your face against his chest. “Are you sure this isn’t because of the thing with Yoongi?” You ask in a trembling voice while tears build in your eyes that you try to blink back.

“It’s not.” Jimin kisses the top of your head, his hands rubbing soothingly along your back, “It’s really not, baby.” He pauses, knowing there his reasoning isn’t completely selfish as he goes on, his voice sad and his reflecting that, “We just really can’t be there for each other like we’d need to be in a relationship, lovely. We’ll just hurt each other, more than we have been lately.”

You exhale a choppy breath, trying to even out your emotions for the sake of the last night with Jimin not being only tears.

You both flinch as the night sky outside flashes, with a medley of booming sounds murmuring out in the air. Jimin’s grasp on you strengthens, contemplative of what was going on as you shift to get sight of the window, covered except for the gap between the curtains.

“It must be midnight.” Your voice is hollow and you remove yourself from his warmth to crawl off the bed. Jimin’s eyes follow you inquisitive, a pit of worry brewing that you intend to leave until your hand pushes back one of the curtains, leaving the sheer set behind it out in the open. The colorful fireworks continue in happy, vibrant colors, spilling remnants of their energy as a reflection on your skin. Jimin stares in awe, silent as you turn back to face him, picturesque and ethereal in the celebratory lights. A contradiction to the events of his apartment.

A veil in the thin curtains acts as a separator between you both in the dimness of his room and the continuation of the world outside.

You walk back towards Jimin, crawling to his open arms on the bed as he greets your return with a kiss. You take it and any following in case they’re the last, settling into Jimin’s bed with him as the blankets cover your cuddling frames. It’s a long time of contentment in each other’s arms, while you both ignore that day means an end; trying to let the fireworks and their beauty be enough of a distraction between longing kisses.

Inevitably you fall asleep first, breaths soothing in sound and sight as Jimin admires the grace of your figure in his arms. He strokes your hair like you still needed to be lulled to slumber. He thinks what it would be like if he was on your side from the first instance of you bringing up that you wanted to be credited for your work, or if he hadn’t kept quiet about his opposite, selfish opinion this long and forwards.

Your sleeping body shifts, arms tightening around his waist. Jimin can’t help the little smile, wishing he had the same outlook as you just so it wouldn’t be the last night of you being practically his. Jimin’s lips find your peaceful forehead in a warm kiss, saying a whisper that he doubts he’ll ever get to say again, “I love you.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know! i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : ) also don’t drag me for the smut in this chapter it may or may not be good idk im worried lmaoadsjfgk

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire @tsvkino-usagi

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hurtcomfortetc · 4 years

Photo

A fill for Setting a Broken Bone featuring Jim Kirk and Nyota Uhura!

Uhura had volunteered for this mission, but the poor newly-recruited science officer had not. It felt unfair that the young man had been plucked onto his first ever away party into an Enterprise-grade shit show.

Although, at the moment, Uhura wasn't even sure he'd made it down to the planet's surface. The moment that'd materialized, it was immediately apparent that they were in for trouble.

“Where the hell is Ensign Roberts?” Kirk's voice came from somewhere close to her.

To Uhura's eyes, she was on a flat, desolate landscape. It appeared to be made up mostly of packed brown dirt, oddly reminiscent of the quarries in Iowa where the Enterprise had docked when she'd met Kirk. The air was filled with glistening particles that looked like crystal dust particles. Uhura took in a cautious breath, expecting to choke on a breath of sand, but it felt smooth as butter.

She spun around, searching frantically. There was not a single, solitary figure on the horizon.

“Captain?” She said, trying desperately to keep her voice level.

“I'm right here-” Kirk replied. After what must have been a subtle shift in position, he appeared beside her like a mirage. She grabbed his upper arm like a life preserver. He took a look at her expression and pulled up his communicator with stormy eyes.

“Sorry, Captain, there was a glitch in the transporter and we delayed his arrival.”

“Good,” Kirk cut in, curtly. “No one else is coming down here until we figure out what's happening.”

“Sir, from our readings, you should be in the center of the civilization, as planned.”

“I know where we were supposed to be, what I need to know now is where we actually are.”

“We're on it. But, Captain, we're also detecting a frequency from the planet's surface that seems to be contributing to the misfire in location. We can't beam you and Lieutenant Uhura back until it's resolved or we risk-”

“Send Chekov to the transporter room. If he can't figure it out, then we're in trouble. Let me know once you have news. We're going to see if we can find anything on our end.”

“Understood.”

“Kirk out.”

Kirk took a long, surveying look at the planet's surface.

“Reminds me of that summer I got sent to work in the salt mines,” he said, smiling wryly.

“Is that some type of backwards Midwest expression for 'oh, shit'?” Uhura countered. She was only marginally steadied by his attempt to lighten the mood. There was something sinister about the desolate horizon, the 360 degree optical illusion of it, the silence.

“Ladies pick the direction,” Kirk offered. Uhura rolled her eyes, and pointed straight ahead, towards the descending orange sun. He nodded.

“Weird, that was exactly the direction I was thinking,” he said. He started walking forward, his steady steps portraying a nonchalance in the face of their surroundings that almost seemed natural.

Nyota followed her captain, but couldn't help staring out into the mysterious swirling horizon, trying to make a semblance of visual sense out of it.

They had just settled into a rhythm when Uhura heard a strangled yelp from Kirk, and then scraping sound followed by a low thud. She spun around, heart pounding.

By all appearances, she was alone.

“Captain!” She yelled.

“Down here!” Kirk's voice came, sounding both further away than she expected, and very near.

“Down where?” She called.

“Right in front of you,” he replied, voice strained. Uhura took a step forward, peering around and wondering if this was all an elaborate hoax.

“Wait, careful! You're right on the edge,” Kirk cautioned. Uhura inspected the surface in front of her carefully. It looked like a shiny, mineral covered pathway, not a cliff's edge in sight. Still, and possibly only because no one was there to witness it, Uhura lowered herself gingerly onto her butt and tentatively pushed herself forward, prodding the ground in front of herself with her feet.

Sure enough, just as she was about to be overwhelmed by the ridiculousness of her position, her foot dropped out. Uhura took in a sharp breath of air, horrified to see her foot seemingly disappear in the swirling mineral ground. Her stomach swooped, but she crept further forward until the illusion dissipated, and she spotted her captain lying on the ground about eight feet below. He was gripping his arm near his elbow and his face was milk white.

“There you are,” she breathed, still working to shake the ambient unease from the optical illusion.

“No shit,” he grit out. Uhura set her face against a grimace, deciding to allow the slip-up in light of the clear pain Kirk was in.

“How badly are you hurt?” She asked. Kirk looked dismally at his crooked arm, and then back up at her.

“I'm fine-”

Uhura shot him a warning look.

“-just this arm is for sure broken,” Kirk continued, wisely.

Uhura took out her comm.

“McCoy here.”

“Doctor McCoy, Captain Kirk just fell about eight feet off of a ledge. Other than a broken arm, he seems fine, but I don't know what to do.”

There was a heavy pause during which Uhura was sure she could hear McCoy pull his most lethal “disappointed but not surprised” face.

“Dammit, Jim. Are you with him?”

“Yes.”

“Dammit, Jim!” McCoy repeated. “Are you physically incapable of not -”

“Thanks for the concern, Bones. Can we skip the lecture and get some actual medical advice?”

“What type of fracture is it?”

Uhura peered down at Kirk's mangled limb, but couldn't manage to make decipher anything about it other than “gross.”

“I'm not a doctor, Bones.”

“Come on, Jim. You're practically an expert at broken bones.”

Kirk rolled his eyes.

“Fine. It's closed, probably displaced.”

McCoy sighed heavily on the other end of the line.

“Uhura, how much do you remember from your field medicine training?”

“Enough,” she replied, without hesitation. It wasn't exactly true, but Uhura figured she would be better than nothing in a pinch. God, she'd hated medical training...

“Good, you're going to have to set and stabilize it. You two need to be mobile on that godforsaken rock.”

Kirk's face managed to lose even more color, which Uhura hadn't thought was possible.

“Ugh.”

“I heard that. Sack up, Jim. This is what you get for being more danger prone than a fucking medieval princess. Now hang tight, I'm filling Spock in on the situation. McCoy out.”

For what it was worth, McCoy's ribbing seemed to restore some of the vitality to Kirk. He now looked more delicately pissed off than immediately corpse-like.

“Sorry about this, Lieutenant,” Kirk said. Uhura felt a flare of anxiety. She much preferred her Captain unrepentant, demanding.

“No need,” she stated.

There was a moment of heavy silence.

“So, you and Spock.” Kirk said, plainly.

Uhura started, and then briefly wondered if he'd hit his head, after all.

“What?” Her sharp tone made Kirk shift nervously, then attempt to stifle a wince when he jarred his broken arm.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, but forged on.

“Look, we have some free time here, and I would love a distraction.”

“It would be unprofessional to discuss my personal, romantic life -”

“Actually, this is a professional question.”

“What?” Uhura was just about to reach her maximum limit for surreal experiences for the day.

“I'm actually supposed to write a report on interpersonal relationships between crew men. In the event of a possible need for intervention.”

Uhura felt like she'd been clubbed over the head. Of course James T. Kirk would find a regulation to follow in order to gossip.

Kirk seemed to recognize her tacit assessment of his thought process.

“Look, I've been putting it off for a while now, since you guys have seemed fine. But I need something to write, officially,” he explained, and at least had the courtesy to seem genuinely apologetic.

Uhura might have told him to stick it where the sun don't shine, but the thin lines of pain around his eyes were a powerful incentive to speak.

“We're both entirely capable of working together. It ended amicably.”

“You're still friends.” He didn't phrase it as a question.

Uhura actually thought about it. Friends didn't fully encompass how she felt, but it wasn't incorrect. Not exactly.

“Yes.”

Kirk didn't miss her hesitation, but he looked away, unable to conjure a follow up question that might not provoke her more.

“We grew apart,” she found herself saying. At the same time, she realized that she hadn't really spoken to anyone about her relationship with Spock. Everyone on the Enterprise kept a careful distance from the topic, as he was her commanding officer. While no one had ever been rude or spoken against her, Uhura had convinced herself that she appreciated the privacy, the way that their feelings were so personal and covert.

For the first time, she wanted desperately to talk about it. It felt like a physical urge, like hunger or exhaustion.

“He was always bound by his duty, to his people and to the Enterprise. I wanted something else,” she said. Her skin was crawling with the bold honesty of the statement. She forced herself to look at Kirk, to regain some sense of casual calm.

Kirk's lips quirked up from some private sense of irony. Then he caught her shooting him a questioning look.

“Sorry, I just – I get it. Spock has an interesting set of priorities.”

Uhura wondered whether Kirk was marveling at Spock's undying need to put his job before his chance at meaningful relationships, or if he was relating to it.

“Is that enough for your report?” Uhura asked, wryly.

“I can paraphrase if I need to.” Kirk matched her tone.

Uhura opened her mouth to attempt to say something meaningful when her communicator signaled her.

“McCoy here. You guys ready for this?”

#star trek #hcetfic #badthingshappenbingo #bingo

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ra3lynn3 · 5 years

Photo

Hey everyone! I’m here with a little one-shot. Mucho thanks to @promptdumpster for the inspo. Shout out to the reddit user for the ideas behind Gale’s soliloquy, too. Forgiveness on any grammatical errors made, I went unbeta’d on this one. I hope you enjoy :)

Xxx

“What’s up with your friend Katniss?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you two friends, or are you...friends?”

Peeta laughed at this.

“We’re just friends. It took long enough to get to that point with her, I don’t even bother trying anything else.”

“So, what’s her deal? Is she seeing anyone?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Has she said anything about me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re really not helping here, ya know?”

Peeta sighed, “Ok, listen. She’s coming to the Halloween party this Saturday. If you really want to get to know her and figure out how she feels about you, just get her drunk.”

“I...don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Gale hesitated.

“I’ve been friends with her for over ten years. Trust me. Buy a few bottles of vodka. When she starts getting giggly about stupid stuff, ask your questions. She will tell you everything.”

Gale took a deep breath and nodded as he grabbed two bottles of vodka from a nearby shelf.

Xxx

The music thumped as dozens of costumed party-goers danced around the crowded room. Katniss forced her way through the throng to make her way to the kitchen. She scoffed as she shoved a couple preoccupied with sticking their tongues down one another’s throats out of the way of the drinks.

“Nice costume!” She heard a voice shout over the noise.

She glanced up to see Peeta’s new roommate, Gale, smirking at her.

“Right. Thanks.” She replied turning to walk away.

“Hang on! Can I get you something to drink?”

She stopped to consider him. She shrugged and nodded without a word.

“I’m Gale, by the way.”

“I know who you are. I’m Katniss.”

“Is that why you went with the cat ears?”

She rolled her eyes. “Peeta gave me shit about not being dressed up. It was his idea. Something about irony.”

“Not much for Halloween, huh?”

“Maybe when I was ten.”

He handed her a drink. He tapped his cup to hers before taking a drink of his own. Katniss brought the cup to her lips and took a hearty swig.

“You dance?” Gale asked as the two turned and surveyed the room.

“Not at all,” Katniss replied.

“Ok,” Gale muttered under his breath.

“I’m going to go find Peeta. Thanks for the drink!” She offered before walking away leaving Gale alone.

“Can I go now, please?” Katniss whined as she interrupted Peeta’s conversation with a scantily clad redhead.

“Nice to see you too! When did you get here?” Peeta asked, ignoring her attempts to annoy him.

“Went with the James Bond look I see?” Katniss replied ignoring him back and giving him a thorough once over in his well-tailored tuxedo, and perfectly coiffed hair.

“Women love it.” He cooed seductively in her ear.

Katniss pulled back to look him in the eyes. He smirked at her. She licked her lips seemingly lost in a trance. She shook her head and put a space between them.

“Your roommate is weird. I liked Finnick better.”

“Be nice. He wants to get to know you.”

“No thanks!” She said as she turned to walk away.

Peeta grabbed her arm and turned her back around to face him.

“Don’t make me lecture you! You and I both know it’s been a really long time since you’ve even given a guy the time of day.”

Katniss rolled her eyes and turned to escape. Peeta gripped her arm again turning her back to face him.

“Please? He’s a decent guy. Have fun. Loosen up.” Peeta suggested with a shrug.

“What does it matter to you?”

“You’re my friend and I’m tired of you hanging around ruining my chances of getting laid!”

“The redhead?” Katniss asked incredulously.

“Maybe,” Peeta remarked dismissively looking around the crowded room.

“You can do better.”

“Go!” Peeta said turning her around and giving her a shove back toward the room.

She stumbled a bit but made her way back through the crowd to find Gale where she’d left him.

“Hey! Peeta told me to be nice. Can we start over?” She said holding out her hand. “I’m Katniss.”

“Gale.” He replied taking her hand in his, offering her an award-winning smile. “Did you want to go outside away from all this noise?”

“That sounds like a great idea!” Katniss agreed.

Gale grabbed a bottle of vodka as the two made their way to the front porch.

“And then I said, ‘you can’t put a pickle in there!’” Katniss laughed at the punchline of her anecdote.

Gale laughed along good-naturedly.

“Oh no!” Katniss remarked dramatically. “We’re out of vodka! I’ll be right back!”

She wobbled to her feet, using Gale’s shoulder to steady herself.

“You got it?” He asked snickering.

“Totally fine.” She replied with an air of superiority, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Her first step was a bit of a stumble, but she managed to find her way inside. As she made her way toward the kitchen, she noticed Peeta had found the redhead again. The two had their hands all over each other. The girl looked like she was devouring Peeta’s neck. Katniss suddenly felt queasy at the sight. Scowling and turning away, she headed for the kitchen grabbing a bottle of white liquor. She tore the cap off and took a hearty swig. She cringed as the liquid burned on the way down. With the bottle in hand, she made her way back out to the porch to sit beside Gale.

“You’re back!” Gale announced excitedly.

“I’m back!” Katniss replied sitting down with a huff.

“You ok?” Gale asked noticing her change in demeanor.

“Totally!” Katniss said a little more excitedly than she had intended. “Let’s play a drinking game!” She suggested.

“Ok. Let’s play truth or drink. We ask each other questions and if you don’t want to answer you have to take a drink.” Gale replied.

“Alright. Who’s the most inappropriate person you’ve fantasized about?”

“Easy. Cressida Monroe.”

Katniss pulled a face. “The actress with the half shaved head? You’re into that, huh?”

“What about you?”

“Umm..” Katniss hesitated for a moment. She glanced behind her at the house before saying, “My ninth grade chemistry teacher, Mr. Mitchell.”

“Next question: what’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done while you were drunk?”

“Fell flat on my face and twisted my ankle. That was a fun ER visit! Thankfully Peeta was there to keep me company. I don’t handle doctors very well. You?”

“Fell asleep butt naked in the front yard of my frat house.”

Katniss barked a laugh, “Of course you were a frat boy!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Have you looked at yourself lately? You totally fit the mold. Tall, dark, handsome. You know the type.”

“And am I your type?”

Katniss shrugged and took a swig from the bottle.

“Oh! That means you don’t want to say. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Katniss took another swig.

“What’s the biggest secret you’re keeping from everyone?” Katniss offered after cringing and shuddering from her drinks.

“I’ve never been in love.”

“Love.” Katniss scoffed.

“What?” Gale asked incredulously.

“How is that a big secret?”

“I have a reputation to maintain!”

Katniss rolled her eyes, “Forgive me. I didn’t realize you were a Casanova.”

“So...what’s yours?”

Katniss shrugged staying quiet until Gale gave her a nudge, “Well I guess if we’re making confessions... I’m in love with someone and they have no clue.”

“Why don’t you tell him...or her?” Gale asked taking the bottle from Katniss’ hand and taking a swig for good measure.

Katniss shot him a look, “I can’t tell him because it would ruin everything.”

She grabbed the bottle back.

“Or you could and it would set your life in motion in a way you never thought possible,” Gale said thoughtfully.

“Yeah, the worse way possible!” Katniss retorted.

“No. Nope. No way. As a dude, I’m telling you, you should go for it. It might not happen right away, but when a guy first meets a girl he might just categorize her as like ‘roommate’s friend’. But then, like, he gets to know her better. And if they mesh, something crazy happens in his mind.”

“Like what?”

“Well, usually he starts to notice things about her appearance - good stuff. Usually something small like her eye color, or the freckles on her nose. It's nothing he can put his finger on, or describe, really. All he knows is that just looking at that part of her makes him feel good. He starts wanting to do that more.”

“You sound like a bit of an expert. You sure you’ve never been in love?” She glanced at him in disbelief.

“Nah. I thought I was a couple of times though.” He sat quietly staring off.

“So...?” Katniss prompted.

“Oh!” Gale startled, seeming to remember he was in the middle of an elaborate explanation, “So then it turns into the guy noticing an expression she makes. Like it could be her genuine belly-laugh or the way she furrows her brow in concern or scowls when she’s thinking. And then it happens.”

“What happens?”

“He gets a little flutter in his chest.”

“So what? I get a flutter if I run too fast.”

“So, they stay friends for a while, get to know each other better. Then, one day, she hugs him goodbye....and he suddenly can't stop thinking about it. He plays it over and over in his head. Like the feel of her breasts through two shirts, her arms around his back, her smell...he finds these little mental movies of her playing in his head when he's driving somewhere, squeezing out his other usual daydreams.”

“Shortly after that, the guy realizes that whenever he looks at this woman, he feels good. He likes her lines, her curves, her sounds and smells... It's like she's gradually turned from a black-and-white photo into a 3D color movie with surround-sound. He starts wondering what he can do to keep her around, to make her happy. He realizes that he likes looking at her more than any other human being in the world. To him, she is perfect and beautiful.”

Katniss sat dumbfounded allowing Gale’s truth to sink in. Which, thanks to her befuddled mind, took a bit longer than usual.

“So what do I do with that information, Mister Smarty-Pants?”

Gale sighed, “You go for it! Duh.”

Katniss giggled stupidly and took a final swig of the white liquor the two shared between them. She stood on wobbly legs once more and took a purposeful step up the porch toward the house before she turned back to Gale.

“What if he doesn’t feel that flutter? She asked seriously.

“He will,” Gale assured her with a small smile.

That was all she needed to boost her confidence beyond the lack of inhibition she felt in her drunken state. Walking back into the house, her head and chest rattled with the bass pumping from the sound system. She stood and swayed as she looked for Peeta. She caught sight of him in the kitchen digging through a bag of chips.

“Hey.” She offered as she approached him.

“Hey.” He replied, continuing to look steadfastly through the chip bag.

“What are you doing?” Katniss asked after a moment of watching him.

“Looking for the perfect chip.” He replied and shook the bag to one side, his entire face nearly inside of it.

“Why?”

Peeta sighed and put the chip bag down, “Because I’m very drunk and very hungry, and I know the perfect chip is out there. In fact, it’s somewhere in this bag.”

“Does it taste better?” She asked feeling genuinely invested in this quest of his.

“Of course!” He said looking very heavy-lidded. He pulled the bag to himself again and dug through it, “Everything about it is better.”

“What happened to Poison Ivy?”

“She found Batman,” Peeta said nodding in the direction of the redhead who was now making out with a short, pudgy version of the caped crusader. After a moment, Peeta suddenly stopped and pulled a chip from the bag. He examined it carefully on all sides and smiled.

“Is that it?” Katniss asked in disbelief.

“This is it,” Peeta confirmed before opening his mouth wide to stuff the entire chip in.

“You’re so weird,” Katniss remarked shaking her head with a smirk.

“You love it.” He replied smugly.

“Yes, I do.” She said looking Peeta squarely in his eyes.

He swallowed hard, staring back at her.

“It’s really loud in here. Do you want to go out back?” Peeta suggested after the two looked at each other for a while unspeaking.

Katniss nodded and trailed behind Peeta as they exited to the back patio. The quiet was deafening. Katniss felt like she had cotton shoved in her ears. Peeta sighed contentedly as the two sat down on a metal gliding bench. He threw his arm behind her, resting it on the back of the seat.

“I’m glad I came to your dumb party,” Katniss admitted begrudgingly. “And Gale is pretty cool after all.”

“Is he?” Peeta glanced at her questioningly from the corner of his eye.

Katniss shrugged nonchalantly, “I guess.”

“He was asking about you earlier.”

Katniss shot him a confused look.

“Why?”

Peeta scoffed, “You know why.”

Katniss sat thoughtfully for a moment.

“He asked about us actually.” Peeta continued.

“Us?”

“Yeah. Wanted to make sure he wasn’t stepping on any toes, I guess.”

Katniss nodded. “Is he?” She finally asked.

Peeta gave a bashful shrug. Katniss gave him a gentle nudge. They glanced at each other from the corners of their eyes and smirked.

“Peeta?” Katniss said after a moment, her voice shaky.

“Yeah?” His tone seemed hopeful, he gave her a look to match.

“I think I’m-“ Katniss stopped abruptly and searched his eyes.

“What is it? You can tell me anything, you know.”

“I’m gonna be sick!” She admitted before bolting from the bench.

She made it behind the seat just in time to throw up in a nearby rose bush. She felt like she should be embarrassed, but didn’t have much time to mull it over before another wave hit her. She felt Peeta’s hands gently gather her hair from her neck and away from her face. After a while, the sickness subsided.

“Sorry.” Katniss apologized as she wiped her mouth with a shaky hand.

“I’ve seen worse at work,” Peeta replied nonchalantly.

Katniss teetered on her feet in front of him, her eyes feeling heavy.

“Let’s get you inside.” He suggested as he pulled her arm up and over his shoulders.

He casually scooped her up into his arms in the next moment when he could see that her legs were useless for the trek.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Katniss teased, her words heavy and slow from the effects of the alcohol.

Peeta laid her gently down on his bed, “Yep, you figured me out.” He replied with a roll of his eyes.

He walked off then, much to Katniss’ confusion. She sat up and squinted when he flicked on his bathroom light. She heard the water running and eased back down on the pillow, closing her eyes as he switched the light off again. In the next moment, she felt a cool, wet cloth being pressed to her forehead. She sighed in relief and relaxed deeper into the pillow. Peeta brushed her hair from her face, twisting the end of her braid around one of his fingers. Katniss opened her eyes, taking in the sight of him sitting next to her at the edge of the bed. Her heart seemed to swell as she pressed her palm to his cheek.

“I want to grow old with you.” She whispered.

Peeta blinked and shook his head, “You’re drunk!” He laughed.

Pulling one leg up and then the other, he slipped his shoes off then undid his bow tie and a couple of shirt buttons. Katniss slid over to make room on the bed. She curled into him, laying her head on his chest as he laid down beside her.

“You don’t want to grow old with me?” She whimpered pathetically, feeling on the verge of tears.

Peeta’s chest shook as he chuckled at her once again. She felt his hand making lazy circles on her back as they lay quietly for a moment.

She popped up suddenly looking wildly at him, the washcloth sliding down her face, “Am I a black and white picture to you, or a 3-D movie with surround sound?”

“Umm..”

“Do I give you flutters? Do you like my smell?”

“Katniss, what-?”

“Am I your chip?” She cried, feeling panicked.

Peeta cupped her face in his hands, “Chill. Out.” He said slowly and calmly. “What are you talking about?”

As his blue eyes met her grey ones, Katniss felt like she could melt into his touch. Her mind and heart were whirling wildly with emotion. She gave her head a little shake, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. She muttered something about Gale then decided she needed to brush her teeth. Pulling out of Peeta’s grasp and clumsily climbing over him, she made her way to the bathroom. When she returned to bed she found Peeta fast asleep. She smiled at his sleeping figure and carefully laid back down beside him.

“I love you, Peeta Mellark.” She whispered as she touched her forehead to his temple and quickly fell asleep.

She woke in the morning to an empty bed and a raging headache. Groaning, she pushed herself up to sit and looked around to gain her bearings. Her recollection of the previous night was fuzzy at best. After a moment she stumbled to her feet and made her way to the kitchen where she found Peeta flitting around in his boxers and a T-shirt, cooking.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty!” He said jovially, catching her eye as she shuffled in and took a seat at the kitchen table.

“Hey yourself.” She grumped as she laid her head down on her arms.

“Quite a party last night, huh?”

Katniss shot him a look and grunted a response. Peeta slid a plate full of food in front of her, taking a seat beside her at the table with his own. Katniss felt her stomach churn and cringed at the sight and smell of the food. She carefully pushed it away from her as if it might explode. She had gone back to resting her head as Gale sauntered in and sat down at the table where Katniss had left her plate. He dug into the food hungrily.

“Mornin!” He greeted them in between bites. “How was your night?” He asked looking between Katniss and Peeta.

“Fine, why?” Peeta asked.

Gale looked at Katniss pointedly waving his fork at her, “I just wondered about you two since our little conversation...”

“I gotta get home. Just remembered I have a ton of papers to grade!” Katniss said jumping from her seat.

The movement made her head spin, which made her nausea worse. Gale’s words had suddenly brought back enough memories from the night before that she didn’t want to stay around and wait for Peeta to get curious. She wasn’t quite ready for her drunk conversation to reveal too much of her sober heart.

“What did you guys talk about?” Peeta asked as he watched Katniss flee from the kitchen and down the hall to his room.

“You.”

“Me?”

“She’s in love with you,” Gale said with a shrug as he went for another bite.

“No, she’s not.” Peeta scoffed.

“Trust me, dude. She is.”

“Dude, no. She’s not.”

Both men turned and watched as Katniss made a hasty retreat with her head down; jacket and bag clutched to her chest.

“Bye.” She muttered quickly as she slammed the front door behind her.

“She is,” Gale said finally, looking Peeta dead in the eyes.

Xxx

“Well hello, Peeta. You’re a bit early for lunch, aren’t you?” An auburn-haired woman greeted Peeta with a knowing look.

“Not here for lunch today, Annie,” Peeta replied with a tight smile.

He ran his hand through his hair as he signed in on a nearby clipboard. He hadn’t felt this nervous in a long time. He clipped a visitor badge to his scrubs and exited the office. He glanced at the colorful artwork hanging on the walls as he made his way down the hall. The sounds of children’s voices filled the air as he stopped just outside a familiar classroom door. Peering in, he noticed Katniss bent near a student’s desk explaining something on a page to the boy sitting beside her. Peeta’s stomach did a quick flip flop as he went to tap lightly on the door’s window. He caught the attention of a raven-haired little girl. She jumped to her feet and made for the door to open it for him. The movement caught Katniss’ attention. She stood and looked his way, an unreadable expression crossing her features as their eyes met.

“Hi, Mr. Mellark! Are you here to read to us again?” The little girl asked in greeting as she opened the door.

Peeta smiled at her, “Not today, Jeannie.” He replied with a small smile.

“What are you doing here?” Katniss asked as she came up beside them.

“Mr. Mellark!” A few of the other students shouted in greeting.

A couple of the children even left their seats to hug his legs once they realized a familiar guest was among them. He smiled and squeezed them back.

“Let’s get back to work, boys and girls. Mr. Mellark was just leaving.” Katniss announced as she gripped Peeta roughly by the arm and walked him forcefully toward the door.

“What gives?” He asked as they made their way out to the hall, giving his arm a rub.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Katniss asked as she crossed her arms.

“Yes, but you won’t return my calls or texts. I was starting to get worried.” Peeta replied.

Katniss seemed distracted as she poked her head back into the classroom to check on her students.

“I’ve been busy.” She said with a shrug as she turned to give him her full attention. “In fact, now isn’t a great time either.” She said as she poked her head back inside the class.

“We need to talk.” He pleaded.

“Ok. Can it wait until I don’t have a class full of seven-year-olds waiting on me, please?” She let out a huff of annoyance.

Peeta nodded in defeat, running a hand through his hair. He turned and took a few steps back down the hallway before thinking better of it.

“I just need you to know something before I go.” He said as he stopped to turn around.

Katniss stepped back out into the hall, a small group of children popped their heads out around the door to watch.

“What is it, Peeta?”

He took a deep breath before admitting, “Katniss, you’re my chip.”

“I’m your chip?” Katniss scrunched her face in confusion.

“Yeah. Always have been.” Peeta said with a shy smile as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Katniss wracked her brain trying to make sense of what he meant as he turned and walked away. As she ushered the small group of children back into the classroom and got them settled into their task, the realization hit her.

“I’m his chip!” She muttered. “I’m his chip!” She shouted as she sprinted for her classroom door.

“Johanna, I need you to watch my class for a second. I’ve gotta take care of something.” She said urgently to the teacher across the hall as she made a mad dash for the front of the building, hoping to catch Peeta before he got to his car.

She growled in frustration as she felt heavy drops of rain hit her. She scanned the parking lot quickly, noticing a pair of taillights as Peeta’s car pulled from its spot.

“Peeta!” She cried as she ran toward his car. “Peeta!” She called again coming alongside his window, hitting it with her hand.

“Katniss, what are you doing? It’s pouring!” Peeta admonished as he rolled down his window.

“I don’t care! I’m your chip!” She exclaimed.

She stepped aside as Peeta got out of his car.

“Katniss, I’m sorry it took me so long, I just didn’t think-“

Before Peeta could finish his thought, Katniss grabbed his face in her hands and pulled him to her. Their mouths crashed against each other. Peeta wrapped his arms around Katniss’ waist as he tilted his head to deepen their long overdue kiss. She slid her hands down his face, lacing her fingers at the nape of his neck.

Peeta pulled back a moment later and whispered to Katniss’ mouth, “There’s rain pouring down my butt crack.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Thanks for the visual.”

Peeta smiled as he pushed a matted wet strand of hair from Katniss’ forehead.

“I love you.” He said, swallowing hard. “God, I don’t know why I’m so nervous!” He admitted with an awkward chuckle.

Katniss chuckled, “I love you too.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #drunkmindsoberheart #its been a while

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hisgirlwonder · 5 years

Text

Defiance - Part Two

Length: 3.5K words Warning: Smut, Dom Michael/Sub reader, etc Synopsis: You’re a smart-mouthed brat who refuses to listen to anyone, not even tyrannical Venable when you arrive at the Outpost. You meet old friends, make new friends, and stumble upon a mysterious man who seems to be able to put you in your place. Notes: Here is the second part! If you’re curious, click here for the first part.

No more mystery man, no more golden-haired angel. His name was Michael. Oh, the irony of his name. He was more like the devil than an angel.

Sinking your back into the mattress, you’re staring at the roof to process what exactly had just taken place. One minute you were in your father’s car on the way to Outpost 3, the next Michael was in your bedroom; making you feel all sorts of ways.

For a moment, your brain almost forgot the anguish you held over moving to this place.

Coco does as she said she would, she always does. She came to check on you and to make sure you ate; you had no choice, really, she wasn’t leaving until you “decided” to go with her. It appeared as if the Outpost had made Coco not so selfish; she always had a kind soul, I guess this place just bought it out.

“Right, let’s go.” Coco grabs your hand in hers after you lock the door, and walks you back to the dining hall where Gallant was waiting. A grin smile hit his face when he saw the pair of you arrive. “Thank God you’re here, y/n, Coco was driving me mad. Are you feeling better than earlier?”

You’re hit with a flashback of Michael in your room and your stomach had transformed into a jar full of butterflies; he had somehow made you soft when the world had turned you hard. “Much. I guess it was just everything. It’s not every day your own flesh and blood cuts you off and forces you somewhere unknown.”

Coco chimes in, nodding in agreement, “I know, right? Like hello?! Daddy just dropped me here and said it was ‘for the best’ and that was that. I mean if he wanted me to get a job that bad, maybe he should have said?”

Gallant jumps to his feet, out of the chair, “I know what will help. You ladies wait, I’ll be back with food. Don’t start the real gossiping without me.”

Coco holds a hand to the side her mouth before he leaves, pretending to hide what she’s saying, whispering loudly, “He just wants to check out the meat selection if you know what I mean.”

Laughing, eyes flicking between your two friends, only for you to side with Gallant, “I don’t blame him at all.”

A figure in the distance catches your sight – it appears as if he was already looking at you, his beautiful lips shaped into your favourite shape; a smile. His smile.

You both exchange a wave. You try inviting him over with your hand; he responds by shaking his head and mouths what you think is “I can’t.”

“Who are you waving to, miss popular?” Coco interrupts your moment, nudging you with words. Her curiosity was matched with her desire to always be the centre of attention. She needed to know everything. Life outside Outpost 3 was interesting – the two of you would always be the talk of the town from what you wore, to where you ate, even right down to what pair of socks you might have had on.

You speak coyly, “Oh, just uh, someone else I met earlier.”

“You met someone here?!” She gasps in disbelief. It was kind of hard to fathom because most of the males here weren’t your type. Your taste in men was… different.

Gallant returns to the table with his hands full; each hand holding a plate piled high with food. “I figured we could all share since I only have two hands. I may be able to work a miracle when it comes to hair ladies but that’s where my magic ends.”

You laugh, finding his attempt rather sweet. “It all looks delicious. I’m sure we can go get some more if we’re hungry.” You thought right then and there you could demolish one of those plates he was holding.

Coco cooed, “So before you came back Gall, y/n was just going to tell me about the person she met.”

“Oooh, we love a secret romance. Who is he? She?” Gallant presses you with an inquisitive tone.

Your eyes scan the room as you begin eating but you can’t see Michael anymore. “I don’t know much except he has beautiful hair and his name’s Michael.”

Gallant taps at his mouth, thinking over all of the people he has introduced himself to since arriving. “I don’t know anyone here with better hair than me nor do I know anyone by that name. Are you sure you heard correctly? I mean I’m the socialite of this Outpost and I’ve met basically everyone.”

You start to doubt yourself, maybe you heard wrong. You try to force down a few more mouthfuls but your appetite has suddenly disappeared. “Do you mind if I pop off to the bathroom? Too much water earlier I think.”

Coco jokes, “As long as you promise not to fall down the toilet.”

“I think that would be the least of my worries.” You say in jest.

You reach for the lock to let yourself out of the stall but right when you’re about to turn the handle you hear voices speak, causing you to freeze up and stop what you’re doing.

“I still can’t believe his behaviour, Miriam. Where does he get off? He doesn’t know but I’ve seen the way he’s been looking at her since the moment she stepped foot into the premises earlier. How is it fair?”

You hold your hand to your mouth, guarding your breath, praying that she doesn’t hear you.

Mead tries to reason with her, “Maybe you’re too hard on the poor boy.”

“Maybe you have too much of a soft spot for him.” Venable isn’t having a bar of it. She figures she’s right and that’s all that matters.

“Look, I just know you need to let whatever you have against him go. Lighten up a little. You do remember you have other things to focus on, don’t you? Who he has feelings for, romantic or otherwise, is none of your concern, okay? Don’t let it get in the way of your reign, Wilhemina. Remember, despite his appearance he’s only a child.”

Venable collects herself again before replying, “Oh, Miriam, always so wise. What would I do without you? We’d better head back.” Mead’s reply to Venable is covered by the sound of Venable’s heels clacking against the floor as they depart the bathroom.

You exhale, heart, beating rapidly, and whispering, “Oh my god!”

There was no way of knowing who they were talking about but you wanted to get out of there as soon as you could. You exit the stall, standing at the entrance to check the coast is clear and make your way back to the dining hall.

“Psst.”

You stop dead in your tracks. You look around but there’s nobody there.

“Psst.”

There is the voice again. You speak in a low voice, “Who are you? I can’t see you.”

You take a few steps around, searching for whoever spoke to you. It seems like you’re going crazy because everyone is at dinner… or so you think. You walk a little further up the hallway and stop again to look around for the sign of the person who made those noises. Someone tugs at your hand from a cloakroom beside you. You jump at their touch, slightly startled. You didn’t want to go inside but the hand sticking out of the entrance was signalling for you too; feeling a pull in your gut, you went against what your mind was telling you and listened to your intuition. Your judgement lacked but you didn’t care; it was as if a power was controlling you, persuading you.

Worry strikes as you step inside the small, dark room, and feel around for the light switch; you didn’t want to be hit with the worst case scenario which meant you were in complete darkness with a stranger. The thought grew a lump in your throat; you almost weren’t able to breathe. Your hand travels the wall, locating one light switch jutting out from the wall, and you turn it on.

“Boo!”

Almost jumping out of your skin at the sound, you hit his arm with your hand, “Michael, why would you that to me?!”

His hands grab at your waist and pull you closer “Hey, I’m sorry. I just wanted to have some fun. This place is such a bore.”

Your arms are in front of your stomach, hands interlocked with thumbs brushing over each other in apprehension, and you look up at him with puppy dog eyes. “How did you know where I was?”

“Well, you see, I’ve been watching you,” Michael says seductively. You’re so nervous and unsure – squeezing your hands together and wringing at your fingers. You become even more flustered at the thought of him taking an interest in you that words seem to blurt out of your mouth, like word vomit, without a warning. “One minute you’re seducing me with your filthy words and then the next we’re in a closet and you tell me you’re watching me. Why?”

Michael covers your mouth, trying to calm you down, and he’s smiling like the cat who got the cream; entertained by his ability to push you. “What can I say? You’re delicious.”

Your body temperature rises by at least ten degrees from and most of the heat is between your legs. Every word he spoke sounded like you were in a dream and you wondered when you’d be waking up again in your room, having made this whole thing up.

Nothing else is said before he pushes your body into the wall behind.

His hand moves from your mouth to your neck, nose runs along your opposite cheek, over your jawline and in a downward motion, stopping at the curve where your throat meets your clavicle and kisses it lustfully. You want Michael and you want him now but you know that in a closet isn’t the way you want to remember the first time.

You tap on his chest, trying to hold yourself together, barely able to string together a sentence past “I, uh, better go.” Michael knew you wanted him, it was impossible for you to hide. He purrs into your ear, “Ten thirty, tonight, wait for me.”

You leave the closet in a hurry feeling rather speechless and almost crash into none other than Venable. You had a sneaking suspicion she was looking for you. She throws a snide comment in your direction in an act of provocation because of the incident in her office earlier. “Miss l/n, did you get lost on your way to dinner? I can probably give you a map for future reference, saves you wasting your precious time.”

“S-s-something like that, and, um, thanks.” You stutter, trying to pull yourself together again and ignoring her comments, while walking briskly past her back to Gallant and Coco. You kept your fingers crossed she didn’t see Michael; he didn’t deserve to feel her wrath, as much as he claimed it didn’t bother him.

“Are you okay? You look a little hot and bothered there hon,” Coco points to your glass of water, “Have a drink and cool yourself down.”

“All I’m going to say right now is Venable is pissed at someone here and I need to figure out who it is.” You sputter, unable to hold back.

Gallant questions you, “But how do you know? I don’t imagine her unroyal highness would divulge that sort of information to just anybody.”

“When I was in the toilet, she was talking with someone called Miriam, and-“

Before you can finish, he butts in, “Ah, yes, her sidekick, Ms Mead.”

You lean in to clarify, confining the space between the three of you so nobody else can hear, “Yes, well, she was losing her shit over someone that’s in the Outpost. She seemed distraught over the fact that there was a guy who had heart-eyes, or something, for a girl.”

Coco puts two and two together, adding, “Maybe she’s scared she’s losing her control on this place, do you think?”

“Right, right, that makes total sense, Coco.”

Gallant decides to lighten the mood, holding his glass up in the air, “Ladies, let’s just forget Queen Bitch and her little minion, so we can enjoy the rest of the night. It seems both of you have some catching up to do, and y/n, we need to get better acquainted.”

You nod and feel Coco’s hand on yours, “It’s really good having you here, y/n, we’re almost like the Three Musketeers.” Her comment reminds you of when the two of you were younger, and you laugh.

The three of you continue your conversation for a while until you interrupt with a yawn and Coco pokes fun at your tiredness. “Ah, please go to bed before you make the rest of us sleepy.”

You look up at the clock, it says 10:20. You definitely had to go to bed but it wasn’t to sleep. “Fine, fine,” you stand up, backing off from the table, “I’ll go. I’ll see you both in the morning.”

Knock knock.

“Housekeeping.”

You jump up from the bed to let him in, “Very funny, now get inside before someone sees you.”

In walks Michael, still as handsome as the last time you laid eyes on him in the closet.

As you’re taking steps back to the bed, you try and tell him to lock the door but he cuts you off mid-sentence. “Now why, oh why, would I leave the door unlocked?” Michael teases.

“Well, something tells me you like to cause trouble.” You point out to him as if he isn’t aware, sitting back in your previous position on the edge with feet on the ground. All Michael can do is grin, he won’t even try to deny it. “You aren’t wrong there, y/n.”

Michael stands in front of where you sit, hovering above you. Your face is at his crotch height and you were trying to restrain yourself from staring. Looking down below him, his eyes locking with yours, he asks, “Whatever will we do with you?”

“I may have an idea.”

You don’t break eye contact, watching his face as you undo the belt and buttons on his pants and then pulling them down. Taking him in one hand, you let your mouthful of saliva cover his head. His brow furrows and his lips part; he’s already enjoying himself and you had barely even started.

Sliding him inside your mouth, Michael groans at the feeling of your soft lips running over his shaft, “Oh fuck.” If there was one thing your mouth was good at besides throwing insults and being a brat, it was sending a guy to heaven for five minutes.

You pull him out and make a lap around the edge of his head a few times before you cheekily ask. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to beg for you?” Your mouth and hands worship every inch of his hardness, teasing him until he can no longer fight it off. Michael starts to provoke you, wanting to send you into a frenzy. “You’re such a good girl taking all of my cock but I think it’s about time that mouth learnt a lesson.”

You weren’t sure what would happen next but the way that Michael spoke to you made you ache for whatever he had planned, regardless of how much it hurt. It was at this point where knew you needed him; everything he gave was everything you never knew was missing.

He put his hands at the back of your head and slammed himself deep in your throat, repeatedly, fucking your mouth, until you were gagging and spit was leaking down your chin. You tap out, unable to breathe with a mouth full of his hard cock. He pries himself from you and you’re left gasping for air. The feeling of him being in control of your ability to breathe was arousing, to say the least.

He pushes your chin up with a finger, mocking you as if you’re a naughty child, “Now are you play nice? Or do I have to punish you further? I have nowhere to be, I could do this all night.”

You playfully glare at him and snarl, preparing yourself for the backlash from your words, “You have a lot to learn about me. Like, first things first, I don’t take well to threats.”

Michael taunts, “Too bad you’re going to take it from me. Get up and bend over in front of me.”

You let out a tiny whimper, almost inaudible, and do as he says.

A finger runs up and down your slit, teasing at the entrance, “Well, well, well, what do we have here? No underwear?” You then feel two fingers part your lips “You’re even ready for me, you naughty little girl.”

The feeling disappears from between your legs and you wonder where he’s gone, turning your head to see behind, but it isn’t enough. You can’t quite see far enough to have Michael in your sights.

“No,” he strikes a hand to your ass, “No peeking.”

Suddenly it hits you. What was in your mouth only moments before was creeping inside your pussy - Michael meant what he said. He would make you take it and you there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it. His pace quickens and now he’s slamming into you, again and again, making your knees weak, buckle and you fall on the bed. He isn’t fazed by your movements; continuing to pound to his own satisfaction.

In between breaths and thrusts, he growls, “I bet no one has ever fucked you like this before; making you crave them deep inside you, have they?” You’re an incoherent and delirious, unable to form a proper sentence.

“Answer me,” He pulls at your hair. You knew you were meant to feel pain but you were on a high; better than any drug could ever bring you.

“N-n-no sir,”

The second you feel his hand grab your hair you lose control; unable to fight any longer, your climax sends you a rush of endorphins and you can’t hold back; your entire body succumbing to pleasure. Michael fucked you into a state and you had come completely undone.

“Sir, huh? Did you just cum all over my dick?”

“Y-y-yes”

“Well, sir is going to bury himself deep inside you, like you ache for, and fill you up.” He tells you, greedily pulling your body back once more. His grip around your thighs to holds you in place, shooting his load inside you, making a mess between your legs.

You fall into your blankets from relief and your eyes peek above the fabric to see Michael hold himself. He says, “I’ll be right back, give me one minute.”

His feet lead him to your bathroom and you watch as Michael starts to look around in the cupboards. What for? You aren’t quite sure. There was nothing of interest; at least nothing you’d imagine someone of his calibre taking an interest in. You bury your face into your pillow and every muscle in your body is in a state of relaxation - if you were to die right now, you’d die happy.

He comes back moment¬¬s later, directing you to lay on your back. “Sorry if this is cold.” Michael begins to do what nobody else has ever done - he rubs the cold, damp wipes over the insides of your thighs; cleaning you up after the mess he made. He bends down to plant a kiss on your stomach, “You really were such a good girl, I wasn’t just saying that.”

Once he’s finished with you, he cleans himself up and then throws the rubbish in the bin.

You’re lying on your side hugging a pillow in a state of elation when Michael surprised you by positioning himself behind your back, arm around your waist to act as a big spoon. His body felt a little warmer than yours. “What are you doing, Michael? You don’t seem to me like you’re the cuddling type.”

He exaggerates a sigh and hits you with your own line, “You have a lot to learn about me.”

Taglist: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sensitivethot @sammythankyou (let me know if you want to be added)

#writing #fanfic #american horror story #ahs #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #michael x langdon #one shot #smut #d&s #american horror story fanfic #ahs fanfic #michael langdon fanfic #american horror story fanfiction #ahs fanfiction #michael langdon fanfiction #american horror story smut #ahs smut #michael langdon smut

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dp-pastandpresent · 5 years

Text

Past and Present: Chapter 23

The wheels in Danny's head were spinning as he stood with the Fentons in their lab.

'Of course! I knew I had seen something similar to my amulet before! Clockwork had a whole wall of them in his lair when he brought me back. But if he told me their meaning, I sure can't remember it now'

Maddie was sitting in a chair, tapping away on her computer keyboard, trying to piece together the mystery of Sam's disappearance.

Jack was pacing by the portal, rather loudly muttering something about how this was all their fault.

'I wonder how many realms have their own amulets. The one I have isn't the same as his…'

'Is that really what matters right now? After all, Sam is MISSING and we know it had to be Clockwork!'

'But he never struck me as the type to abduct someone. Yes, he lied and has clearly been feeding me memories, but abduction?'

'Maybe he knows something I don't. About this prophecy. Maybe it has to do with Sam…'

The thought of Sam being somehow involved with Danny's apparent destiny made him shiver. As much as he had fallen for her recently, he hated thinking he would be the reason for her getting hurt.

A loud banging sound followed by an "ugh" brought Danny back to reality. Looking over to Maddie at the computer, he saw that her head was down in frustration.

"You would think that Google would know a little bit more about these ghosts!"

"Google?" Danny asked, confused yet again by the computer lingo.

Maddie turned around, a small smile on her face.

"Right, different time. Google – it's a program on the internet you use to find information other people put online."

Danny shook his head , only understanding about half of what she had just said.

Jack walked over and put his hand on Danny's shoulder.

"Trust me, my boy, if Google can't find it, then we're out of luck!"

"I had a feeling you'd say that," Danny sighed as he looked at the ground.

"It's not that the information doesn't exist, it's just that it hasn't been found yet," Maddie added, trying to add a bit of optimism. "There's a reason there are only a few para-psychology schools out there, and your sister got laughed at for attending one of them."

"It's just not fair! Somebody has to know what's going on!" Danny shouted, moving away from the Fenton couple.

"We've tried everything shy of going into the Ghost Zone ourselves," Maddie said, trying to keep her cool.

"And we're not about to do that without a proper map and protection!" Jack added.

A light in Danny's head went on at this, and he turned back to look at them.

"Why not send me? I'm a ghost, I've been in before, and have been wanting to go back for a while. Let me go in and get some answers!"

The two Fentons looked at each other, raising their eyebrows. The look on Jack's face showed how much he desperately wanted to send the boy in, but the look on Maddie's said how much she wanted to keep him safe. As always, Maddie seemed to win out.

Jack was the first to respond with a sigh.

"Danny, as much as I would love to send you in there, we haven't properly mapped it yet. Every device we've created to send in has disappeared or exploded within the first few minutes."

"It's just not safe, especially with your powers on the fritz," Maddie added.

He had been so obsessed with Clockwork and finding Sam, Danny had forgotten that he was still in his human form, having tried to use his amulet after coming downstairs to no avail.

"I know, I know! But we cannot just wait for the answers to appear to us. We have to do SOMETHING! Didn't your examination of his medallion tell you ANYTHING?"

The first thing they had done upon arriving in the lab was to investigate and test Clockwork's medallion, searching its surface for any indication of its origin and power.

"DAMNIT DANNY, DON'T YOU THINK WE'RE TRYING?!" Jack boomed to the boy in front of him, his hands shaking.

Danny was taken aback at this, having never experienced the true wrath of Jack Fenton before. "Yes, of course, it's just…"

"No. Listen here. We have been searching FOREVER to find information about the Ghost Zone. About YOU! And now here you are, and suddenly we're caught in this web created by a ghost we don't have any information about! Don't you think that if we knew more we'd be doing it right now!? This is mine, my wife's, YOUR SISTER'S life work, and now it's put an innocent girl at risk!"

Jack let out a loud sigh before falling to the ground and putting his head in his hands. A muffled sobbing sound followed.

Maddie looked at Danny before bending over to check on her husband.

"Jack, please, we know how important this research has been to you, but you can't blame yourself for what happened to Sam."

Jack raised his head and looked at his wife with big, tear-filled eyes.

"Mads, I always knew our research would get results, but I never thought it would put an innocent girl in danger. I just want to take it all back."

Danny hated what he was hearing and knew that the Fentons needed a bit of privacy. Turning his back to them, he walked over to the table where Clockwork's medallion was currently sitting.

'There has to be an answer to this. Futuristic tech or not, something has to be able to crack this thing!'

Danny's hand brushed across the bottom one last time, only to notice a small hole that resembled the ones he had seen Jack using to plug things into his computer.

'Would Clockwork really put a normal, human hook up in his ghostly device?'

Danny knew next to nothing about current technology, and having investigated the lab on multiple occasions, knew that the Fentons' lab only housed the technology needed for to run their gadgets – never anything normal.

He paused to think, wondering if there were another way to sate his curiosity over the technology that was housed within the medallion. Finally, he remembered something Sam had told him once.

Turning to the Fentons, who had both gotten up from the ground, Jack still with red eyes but no longer crying, Danny smiled.

"I have an idea."

"You want me to what?" Sarah asked the boy, eyes getting big behind her thick glasses.

"Those things everyone carries and stares at all the time. The little devices, you have one right?"

"Danny, dear, I think you mean an iPhone?" Maddie offered, coming up behind him.

After having explained his idea to the Fentons downstairs, the group had returned to the living room where Sarah was waiting impatiently for answers.

"Well why didn't you say so! Of course I have one, but I barely know how to use the thing…" she replied as she pulled the device from her pocket.

"Warren insists I keep this thing in case I get hurt," she muttered.

"Perfect!" Danny said with a grin. "Do you have the book on it?"

Sarah raised her eyebrows.

"The book, the one with the friends?"

Maddie stepped in yet again, putting her hand on his shoulder and scooting him over a bit.

"I'll take it from here," she said with a soft smile.

Danny grumped as he stepped back to join Jack.

"Don't worry, my boy, I don't understand those things either!" Jack said, trying to reassure him.

"Sarah, do you have Facebook on your phone?"

Sarah smiled, realizing what it was Danny had been trying to describe.

"I think I installed it once, for Sam. Her phone was on the fritz so I lent her mine. She's probably still logged in and everything. Hold on..." She looked down at the bright glow of the device in her hand, using her fingers to swipe across the screen until finally she found what she needed.

"There it is! But how is this going to help?" Sarah asked as she held the phone out to Maddie.

"Danny, what did you say his name was again?" Maddie said, turning to the boy again.

"I think Sam called him Tuck…"

School had been out for the past few days due to Fall Break, so unfortunately, Danny wouldn't be able to track him there. Luckily the digital profile for the boy had listed a place of work, giving Danny a good lead on where to start.

Partially because his amulet STILL wasn't working, and partially because a ghost walking into a store would be weird, he had decided to try and stay in his human form for this mission. Which was harder that he wanted to admit, as getting from place to place was a lot easier when you could fly.

'How did I do this when I was alive?'

He smiled to himself, realizing the irony in his thoughts as he pushed open the door to the store.

If the record store hadn't been such an eye opener, his amazement would have been greater. Everywhere he looked there were glass tables holding devices that ranged in size from the large computer he had seen in the lab to mini screen smaller than Sarah's. At one corner, there was a man standing with a weird hearing aid type thing in one ear, talking away to seemingly no one, while in the other, a group of teenage girls was huddled around what looked to be a plastic cylinder emitting the music of some unknown boy band.

Danny felt dizzy as he took in all the tech, realizing just how much he had missed in the fifty years he had been gone. If he hadn't died, would he have accepted all these things? Found them normal? He didn't want to think about it.

Refocusing on the mission, he tried to imagine the face he was seeking out. He had a faint idea of who he was looking for, having seen a couple of blurry photos on the boy's limited profile, but he knew he couldn't be sure until he saw him face to face.

Seeing as this was his place of work, Danny approached the counter, hoping that maybe the cashier would know who he was looking for. His mind in a daze, he didn't even notice when the clerk called him forward.

"Dude. You're holding up the line. Can I help you?"

Stepping forward, Danny faced the kid behind the counter. He was about to ask about the boy but found himself unable to before the kid spoke himself.

"You?"

Taken aback, Danny put his hand on his chest. He didn't think anyone would recognize him as a human.

"Pardon?" he asked.

The kid leaned forward, his glasses falling down his nose, and spoke in a hushed tone.

"Phantom?"

For what seemed like the millionth time that day, Danny's wheels began to turn as he realized he had managed to find exactly who he had been looking for.

"Actually, it's Danny."

"But, but… why don't you look like… you?" the boy asked, he dark skin beginning to turn pale.

"It's a long story, but I'll explain if you come with me."

"So, you're telling me that Sam has been abducted by a ghost – Clockwork – and the only way to find her is by using this medallion to track him, but you can't figure out the medallion because you don't have the tech for it?"

'How is it possible I know more about this ghost tech than the Fentons?'

Tucker had now joined the group in the living room of Fenton Works, having followed Danny there from the store. But with each moment, he felt more and more like he should have just stayed behind.

"Something like that yea," Danny replied.

"Tucker, it's more than that. We believe this Clockwork fellow is behind Danny's return and transformation. We think he's been playing with his emotions. Making him do things," Maddie added.

'He's a ghost! I wouldn't be surprised…

While Tucker had been excited to learn about the technology and ghost happenings when the Fentons first announced their discoveries, the excitement had begun to wear thin on him. What with Sam's recent obsessions and all the ghost attacks, it felt more like an episode of Scooby-Doo than anything innovative and groundbreaking.

"As her best friend, I'm worried about her, really. But you can't expect me to just jump into this cold turkey," Tucker said, crossing his arms.

"We hate having to ask so much of you like this, but we could really use the help," Maddie pleaded.

Tucker just stood, his eyes fixated on the ceiling.

"Maddie, we NEED his help! We can't let any more time pass with Sam in there!" Jack began, his voice a bit loud, startling Tucker.

"I know dear, but we can't just force his hand," she replied through gritted teeth.

"But, but…"

"STOP!"

It was Sarah's loud exclamation that made the group turn this time.

"Can't you see! This is getting us nowhere!"

She wheeled over to Tucker.

"Tucker, you are the only person who has ever stood by my Sam. Spending time with her, looking out for her, making sure she got home safe. I'll admit, I was a bit worried when she brought you home for the first time, what with all your little quirks, but I've warmed up to you. And I believe in you. We all do. Can't you please help us find her?"

'Sam's Grandma has always had a way with convincing people…'

He could see the fog behind her glasses as a few tears began to stream from her eyes.

Maybe it was pressure, or sympathy, or the desire to make sure his best – and only – friend was ok. Either way, he looked down and nodded his head in agreement.

"So, I bring a backpack full of cables and cords to work every day in case someone needs a troubleshoot," Tucker said as he opened his bag.

They were in the lab now, having spent the last few minutes letting Tucker take it all in.

"Hopefully one of these is compatible with that medallion you found." He dumped the bag's contents onto the ground.

Danny walked over to the lab table, picked up the gold trinket, and offered it to Tucker.

"The plug is on the bottom, just under the inscription. It's really small, do you see it?" he asked as he handed it to the boy.

Tucker took it with both hands, feeling the weight and examining it closer. He turned to Maddie.

"Do you mind if I look up something on your computer?"

"Go right ahead! But Google already failed us once today!" Jack boomed before Maddie could respond.

"Yea, but Google doesn't know how to hack government technology websites," Tucker muttered as he sat down in front of the screen.

"Government technology? Since when is the government involved?" Maddie asked.

"It's not, but they keep a database of all the cords and cables and outlets and stuff…" Tucker replied as the glow of the computer reflected in his glasses.

A few clicks and passwords later, Tucker found himself on the main page of the U.S. government's catalogue of technology.

Watching him scroll down the page in a blur gave Danny a headache.

'Seriously, how does anyone live with this much tech?'

Finally Tucker stopped, moving out of the way to show the group what he had found.

"I think this is it. A T-95 adapter. If the picture here is a match to the medallion, I may have just the cord!"

He held the medallion up to the screen, comparing the bottom of it to the photo, and a smile formed on his face.

"Good news?" Maddie asked.

"This is it!" Tucker exclaimed as he hurried back to his pile of tangled cords, digging until he found the one he needed.

Everyone smiled as he held it up, but Tucker's smile slowly faded as he realized something else.

"Ummmm, what do we plug this into?"

"Hmmm?" Jack asked.

"Well, it's got a USB on the end but I'm afraid to plug it into your computer without the proper program installed. After all, this is ghost tech, and who knows what kind of viruses that could bring."

"I don't think we need to worry about that," Maddie smiled, "We installed anti-ecto protection on the computer a few years back."

"Of course! It took me AGES to install that stuff, how could I have forgotten. Mads, you think of everything."

He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek as the two teenagers looked back at the computer, trying to refocus on their task.

Taking the Fentons' enthusiasm as a confirmation that it was fine to plug the thing into the computer, Tucker grabbed the cord and plugged the flat end into the tower.

He looked to Danny, hope and fear in his eyes, and nodded as he plugged the other end into the medallion.

The computer screen went black, and a loud sigh came from everyone in the room.

"Really!?" Danny complained as he raised his hands in frustration. "Just when we have a lead, nothing…"

Before he could finish his statement, bright green words appeared on the screen.

T.I.M.E. INITIATED. Y TO CONTINUE. N TO STOP.

"I'm guessing you want me to hit Y?" Tucker asked; everyone nodded.

As he hit the button, the group watched the screen change to what resembled a large, pixelated map with several glowing dots in various places.

PLEASE SELECT ITEM TO TRACK AND HIT Y.

"Sooo, now what?" Tucker asked.

"Hold on son, let me see this thing," Jack responded, coming forward to take the boy's place at the computer.

"It looks like there are lots of locations on here, but it's hard to tell which one we need to track."

"Danny, do you remember anything about places or names?" Maddie asked as her husband squinted at the screen, trying to decipher the tiny writing under several of the locations.

Danny stepped back to think for a moment before answering.

'Did Clockwork ever have a name for the Graveyard? His home?

He was on his knees, head facing down at the ground with hair hanging in his face. White hair.

"I've done it. At last, I have finally found an answer."

The boy looked up, eyes wide with confusion.

A figure floated in front of him, dressed in all purple with what appeared to be a grandfather clock showing through his chest. In his hand he held a staff, also resembling a clock, and when he got closer to the boy, his appearance suddenly went from old to young.

The boy lurched back, afraid of the figure's touch.

"Don't worry son, I won't hurt you. I'm here to help." The young figure spoke with a bit of compassion in his voice.

"What? Where? Who?" was all the boy could say in response.

"Of course, you're confused. You've only been back for a few hours now. Your mind hasn't fully returned yet. I should have known that would be a side effect of resurrection."

"Resurrection?"

Confusion spread across his entire face now; he still couldn't understand what was happening to him.

"Of course. You, Daniel, are the first soul I've ever been able to retrieve from death."

"Death? You mean, I…?'

"Died, yes. But I've brought you back." The figure smiled.

"Back to where?"

"I believe the humans call it 'The Ghost Zone,'" he answered with amusement, "but this part, my home, is the Island of Lost Time."

Danny opened his eyes and looked at the group, all of whom had turned face him once again.

The amulet around his neck was glowing green, and he could feel its heat permeating his body.

"Does he do that a lot?" Tucker asked.

"Change his appearance? Yes, I'm afraid so," Maddie answered.

"The Island of Lost Time. That's where she is," Danny replied, his green eyes glowing down at them.

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