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reidsnose · 3 years

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Black Eye

overview: reader and spencer go to reader's highschool reunion as a fake couple

genre: fluff i think

warnings: mild violence and swearing, a guy being kind of a total creep, and mentions of bullying

a/n: idk if its any good again just love the idea but it was inspired by a dream i had last night (thank you temporal lobe) so yeah let me know what yall think !! :) also im posting this at like ass oclock in the morning so whoops

masterlist

you and spencer had gotten yourselves in quite the situation.

your dreaded highschool reunion was just around the corner and you made the mistake of complaining about it to penelope. she was always trying to make everyones life easier (and more interesting) so when she heard you had no date she took it upon herself to find you one.

it didn't take a lot of looking, none at all actually; because Penelope had already been trying to figure out ways to get you and Reid together.

you two were undeniably perfect for each other. you were an amazing team at work, you hung out alone all the time (though both of you denied these hang out as being dates, Garcia had her own ideas on this), and you were both very obliviously head over heels for each other.

and somehow, through the magical ways of Penelope Garcia, you and Spencer were now sitting in the parking lot, fake married for your high school reunion.

"do we need to go over our back story again?" you worried, looking up at him.

"our backstory is basically all true anyway we just fall in love after a little bit. and i have an eidetic memory so i remember; you're my wife you should know this!" he joked, trying to relax you. "we got this! we're gonna be so married!"

Spencer had actually never been this nervous in his life but he was trying to be brave for you. it would be more embarrassing for you both to show up like nervous wrecks than if you had just come alone. he was just happy to get to be fake married to you.

"the marriedest!" smiled, fist bumping him.

"now lets go make some people jealous!" he chuckled getting out of the car and jogging over to your side, opening your door before you got the chance to; like a true gentleman.

you stuck out your hand which he happily took into his, neither of you commenting on the redness you both had sprinkled across your cheeks. as you walked in, you saw all the people you dreaded seeing.

the boys who tormented you were balding and the girls who made sure you felt awful everyday had wrinkles riddling there skin. you were surrounded by botched botox and bleached blonde to cover graying hair. you felt terrible to admit it, but you were a little happy to see that their beauty had faded like this; they made their looks their whole personality in high school, you couldn't help but wonder what was left for them to be. not that it mattered, but you and Spencer were undeniably the most attractive couple there.

you actually had an ok time, you had spotted a few of your friends that you hadn't seen in quite a few years and it was nice to catch up.

Spencer had wondered a bit, but not too far, he was talking to some guys who used to be in science club when you were younger. you smiled at the thought of what they might be talking about.

"y/n! hey youve really filled out!" you heard a gruff voice from behind you.

you turned around and were met with the very unappealing face of the ex quarterback. Spencers attention had been caught at the sound of your name.

"um..hello," you muttered, trying to covertly back away from him.

"i see youve got a ring, interesting i dont remember us getting married!" he said in an incredibly creepy tone.

"do you know im a federal agent now?" you said through a gritted smile.

spencer had already begun walking towards you, he could tell something was off.

"ill tell you what sweetheart," he put his hand on your shoulder, pulling you slightly closer to him, "you can put me in handcuffs any day."

you threw his hand off of you and drew back your fist, but were cut off before you could deliver the punch but his hand engulfing your own, and squeezing.

"THATS MY WIFE!" spencer yelled in a voice you had never heard from him before.in the blink of an eye he was standing between in front of him. "do not ever talk to her like that, let alone lay a finger on her or so help me God i will-"

"what beanpole? what are you gonna do? what if i did this?" the man asked.

and then he sent a swift punch to Spencer's face.

thats gonna leave a mark.

in a matter of seconds, Spencer had him overpowered, laying face first on the floor with his hands uncomfortably angled behind him, completely helpless.

"now i'm going to let you go and you're going to walk out of here unharmed. if you try anything like that again, ill let my wife handle you. and i promise if she gets a hold of you, you'll be a dead son of a bitch." Spencer muttered in the mans ear, gruffly pulling him up by his collar and shoving him towards the door.

"were leaving." you said, grabbing Spencer's hand, trying to ignore how incredibly attractive he looked right now.

"babe if you want to stay we can stay," he offered as if he didn't just have his shit kicked in by a coward with misogynistic tendencies.

"honey, i want to take you home," you smiled, liking the way it felt to call him a pet name. you walked into the parking lot, "what were you thinking?"

"i was thinking this guy is trying to hurt you and i was not going to ever let that happen." he answered confidently as you two reached the car. "plus this totally made the marriage thing more believable. i wouldn't get a black eye for just anyone."

"thank you. i'm sorry you got punched trying to protect me." you sighed, feeling incredibly awful about the whole thing.

he chuckled, "id do it again."

you fought hard against the blush creeping up your face.

"i gotta say, the black eye really suits you. you look pretty badass." you chuckled, trying to change the subject before it got too sappy and you said something you shouldn't.

"maybe it should just be my new look," he joked, looking down at a ping from his phone. "uh oh."

"we have a case?" you asked.

"yep. and hotch wants us in the office asap which means we cont stop by either of our houses." he sighed before starting the car.

the drive was mostly silent. but a comfortable silence. Spencer thought about how in the moment, he didn't care how many punches the guy threw at him, as long as it meant you were ok, he was willing to take it. he knew he loved you far before that moment but that truly solidified it.

at the same time you were thinking of how quickly your time as a 'married couple' was over. it felt so right to call Spencer yours. so unexplainably perfect for the two of you to be together. if only your time wasn't cut short by a sucker punch.

you neared the building's parking lot. you looked over at Spencer who you could very easily tell was lost in his own world.

"whats going on in that beautiful head of yours?" you asked, causing him to stifle a smile.

"just thinking." he answered.

"what about?"

"us." he stated, pulling into his parking spot.

oh. oh.

"do tell."

he hesitated, "if i tell you, and you disagree, do you promise it wont change anything about us?"

"i promise."

"did it feel right to you? us being together?" he asked, his eyes innocent and filled to the brim with a mixture of anxiety and adoration as he looked at you.

"yes. it absolutely did. and i was so mad at the assclown for cutting our time short," you admitted, "and punching you in the eye, obviously."

"i- i'm not sure how to ask this but- do you...would you..sorry i-" he stammered.

"yes."

you cut him off, pressing your lips to his. his hand gently cupped your face, deepening the kiss and you both felt like you were on cloud nine.

"thats exactly what i was trying to say," he cracked a dopey smile, causing you to chuckle.

"i've been trying to say it for so long." you confessed, causing him to smile impossibly wider, "we gotta go hotch is waiting."

"just one more kiss?" he asked, which you gave in to, obviously. and then another. and another.

maybe it was good thing that he got a black eye that day, because when you got to the office the whole team was so focused on it they didn't even notice the hint of your lipstick left on spencers lips.

ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #reid #garcia #penelope garcia #morgan #derek morgan #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #fluff #hotch #prentiss #jj #rossi #cm #bau #bau x reader

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sankyeom · 4 years

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the c in ceo stands for cute | k.yh

pairings: kim younghoon x reader genre: ceo au, secretary!reader x ceo!younghoon, strangers to lovers summary: in which your handsome boss is often mistaken as cold due to his good looks and forward personality, but is actually the sweetest introvert you’ve ever met word count: 7.2k series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration

masterlist

“It’s been such a pleasure working for you, Mr Kim,” you told the CEO of the company you worked for, genuinely meaning every word.

Mr Kim beamed at you, eyes bright behind the large frames of his glasses. “The pleasure was all mine, Y/n,” he assured you. “You’re a marvellous help. My son is going to love you,” he was sure.

The heir of the Kim corporation, Kim Younghoon, was returning from getting his Masters degree from Harvard Business School just in time to take over after his father retired. He was a little young to be the CEO of such a large corporation, but Mr Kim had a lot of faith in his son, and spoke very highly of him.

“I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” you smiled, even though you were lying through your teeth.

There had been enough rumours about Kim Younghoon going around for you to know what to expect. His schoolmates said that he was often cold to them, giving blunt answers instead of mingling with his peers, and having an air of superiority around him. You asked some of your older coworkers if they knew much about him, since you had only been Mr Kim’s secretary for a little over two years, and they feared him too much to have ever really approached him.

Of course you knew that it was unfair to judge a person by the rumours surrounding them, especially if you never even had the chance to meet this person, but there seemed to be no positive stories about Kim Younghoon at all. Sure, his face was plastered across billboards for being an excellent businessman and for having great instincts when it came to the stock market, but he never smiled in any pictures; not even the ones on his social media (which had millions of followers).

Mr Kim seemed to know you well, giving you an intentional smile. “He’s not what people expect him to be. You’ll see when he arrives,” he promised. You decided to take Mr Kim’s word for it and give the new CEO a proper chance, despite the fact that Mr Kim was very biased in this situation.

“I think it’s time for me to get home,” Mr Kim admitted, handing you his almost-full champagne flute.

The Seoul division of the corporation’s office had held a farewell party for Mr Kim, celebrating his many years of building up the company and all the people whose lives he impacted while he was CEO. “So soon?” you asked, helping him up from his chair. “You’ve only had one slice of cake.”

Mr Kim laughed. “I’ll take a good night’s sleep over a second slice of cake,” he assured you, taking your arm and letting you walk him to the elevator. “You know that I like you a lot, don’t you Y/n?” he asked you.

You couldn’t help but smile back at the man who was almost like a second father figure, and your most influential mentor. “Yes I do, Mr Kim. It’s been a pleasure.”

“I consider myself quite lucky,” he replied, saying his farewells to you before letting his chauffeur walk him to his car.

You waved as the elevator doors closed and sighed to yourself when Mr Kim was gone, looking around to see what was left of the office party.

You knew you were good at your job. Throughout high school and college, you found it difficult to figure out what you wanted to do with your life. All you knew was that you had good organisational and people skills, and you wanted to do something creative and exciting. At first, the idea of being someone’s secretary sounded dreadfully boring and time-consuming. But as you started to learn more about the profession, you liked the idea of being able to be apart of different projects as well as organising someone’s time.

“Hey, Y/n,” your coworker Kevin called over to you. He was someone you worked with a lot because he was a part of the design department, and no design ever went out without Mr Kim’s direct approval. “Where did Mr Kim go?” he asked.

You smiled, making your way over to him and the group of people he stood with. “Home,” you informed him. “I think he appreciated the party, but when he said he wanted to retire, he really meant it.”

Kevin laughed, raising his champagne flute in the air as a toast. “Fair enough,” he allowed. “Did he give you any details about the new boss?” he wondered, quirking an eyebrow in inquisitiveness.

“Not really,” you admitted. “He said that he thinks we’ll get along, and that he’s not what people expect him to be. But aside from that, he didn’t give me much.”

“Damn,” Kevin sighed. “I just want to know if he’s as scary as people make him out to be. I mean, attending a prestigious business school overseas and not making any friends? That seems kind of weird.”

“A little,” you agreed, accepting the champagne he offered you and sipping it. “I don’t know. I guess if you already have a decent set of friends at home, and your priority is to finish school as quickly as possible, then I can see why he might come across as unfriendly.”

Kevin hummed. “I suppose,” he agreed, downing his champagne. “Now c’mon. We need to dance and actually have fun at the party that you spent weeks planning,” he insisted, letting you finish your drink before dragging you over to where you had pushed chairs and tables away to make room for dancing. “Tomorrow, the new boss arrives. And if he’s half as bad as people say he is, you’re going to wish you had partied.”

You arrived at the office the next day an hour earlier than you usually did. You weren’t sure what time the new boss would be arriving at, so you just decided to be early. Fidgeting with your clothes, you smoothed them down as best as you could as you waited in front of the CEO’s office for Younghoon to arrive. You had already printed out a plan of things Mr Kim had left him to finish up for the next three months, but you didn’t have any more specific plans after that.

After half an hour of waiting around, hushed whispers rang around the office area. Taking this as a sign that Younghoon was on his way, you stood up tall with all of your papers, planner, and clipboard, and took a deep breath in to calm down. Not long after, Younghoon’s familiar face – which you recognised both from billboards, magazines and articles, as well as Mr Kim’s framed pictures in his office – appeared in front of you with two men trailing after him.

He was handsome in a chic way, with deep set eyes and high brow bones. His cupid’s bow was slightly pointed, and his lips in general were turned down into a sort of passive frown, as if he had a mild case of resting bitch face. All in all, he was intimidating. Tall, handsome, and rich. You dealt with men like this every day, but none of them looked at you as indifferently as Kim Younghoon was.

You put on your best smile. “Good morning Mr Kim,” you greeted. “My name is Y/n. I’m here to assist you with whatever you need. I’d like to go over your schedule for the next few months based on what your father already had planned, if now is a good time,” you told him, wanting to get that over and done with.

“Now is perfect,” Younghoon replied, allowing you to open the door for him before he let himself into his new office. You breathed out a quiet sigh of relief when he was inside, recovering quickly to smile at the two men he came with.

“Nice to meet you both, I’m Y/n. I’ll be Mr Kim’s secretary,” you introduced yourself again.

Both men returned your cheery expressions. “Nice to meet you, Y/n,” the one with the dark brown hair greeted. “My name is Sangyeon. I’m the head of Younghoon’s security, but I’m mostly just an old friend,” he admitted. “This is Juyeon,” the man with the black undercut smiled, which made his otherwise angular face seem soft and cute. “He’s Younghoon’s chauffeur but he’s another old friend.”

“We’ll see each other a lot so I hope we get along,” Juyeon chimed in.

“I’m sure we will,” you promised, already feeling comfortable around them. The two men exuded positive energy and a carefree attitude, which helped to calm your nerves just a little bit. Following them into Younghoon’s office, you motioned for them to sit in the two seats in front of Younghoon’s desk, where he was already sat in his office chair.

“We can talk about redecorating the office after we discuss your schedule, if you’d like,” you suggested to Younghoon, noticing the way his eyes were darting around the office. It was left the same way that Mr Kim had wanted it, only most of the belongings that he cherished had been moved into his personal office at home.

“Don’t bother,” Younghoon replied in a quiet voice, leaving you to smile awkwardly at his friends. “You said something about my father having plans for me?” he added.

“Right,” you nodded, taking out Younghoon’s agenda and placing it down in front of him. “Your father had already agreed to a few things before he retired,” you explained. “As the new CEO, you’re expected to carry out these events. I’ve colour coordinated everything that you have set, as well as given you the time and location of every event,” you pointed to the different coloured sticky tabs. “Since we’re going into the last quarter of the financial year, it’s not as busy as the rest of the year but there are more charity-related events than at the start of the year.”

Younghoon held your gaze, taking in your worried eyes and your shaking hands. “How kind of you,” he decided, sending you a half-smile before thumbing through the rest of his journal.

You thanked him quietly, feeling even more deflated now than when you were waiting for him. “Just so you know, I’m going to be arriving the same time everyday as I did today. You don’t need to arrive before me, we can arrive at the same time. And please don’t call me Mr Kim. Mr Kim is my father, you may call me Younghoon,” he said in his calm drawl, done looking through his schedule and glancing up at you. “Can I keep this?” Younghoon motioned to the planner.

“It’s yours,” you assured him.

“Then that’ll be all for now,” Younghoon gave you another half-smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll be familiarising myself with my father’s previous system of organisation and then I’ll meet the main teams this afternoon after lunch. Send the word out that I expect an update on what they’re working on right now, but I don’t want any presentations. Just an informal chat.”

“Of course,” you nodded, placing the stack of papers you were holding on his desk. “These are from legal, they need you to sign off on some patents by Thursday. I figured I’d give you some time to read through them and I can collect them from you Thursday morning,” you informed him. “My schedule for the day is always on this,” you tapped his desktop screen. “We have access to each others’ electronic calendars. It has everything that I put in your planner so far in it already. You can add whatever else onto it so I’m up-to-date. You can see my calendar so you know where I am if you ever need something and I’m not around. I’ll call the team managers right away and schedule your meetings with them.”

“Thank you, Y/n,” Younghoon said.

“Can I get you anything to drink or eat?” you offered, extending your words to Sangyeon and Juyeon as well.

“We’re good,” they assured you, Younghoon nodding in agreement.

“If you need lunch reservations, just let me know,” you smiled, exiting the room and almost collapsing onto your chair. After a moment to catch your breath, you picked up your phone and began to dial the number for Kevin’s cubicle.

“What’s he like?” Kevin exclaimed instead of answering.

You rolled your eyes. “Mr Kim wants a meeting with all the main teams. I’m having the design team go first so. How does 1 o’clock sound?”

“Fine,” he agreed, so you opened your laptop and updated Younghoon’s digital calendar. “Seriously, though. What’s he like? Apparently he didn’t smile when he came into the building at all.”

“Sound accurate,” you mumbled quietly. “I don’t know, Kev. I’ve only met him once. He seems like he’s focused and willing to do the job, so there’s not much I can say.”

“Yeah, okay. But is he a jerk? Unsociable?”

“Well, he’s no fairy princess,” you allowed. “That’s all I’ll say. Like I said, I’ve only met him once. And he’s the CEO of a huge corporation. We’ll have to see.”

“I guess so,” Kevin sighed. “Oh my god. He wants a meeting with all the main teams? I don’t have enough time to make a presentation, what am I supposed to do?”

“I think he wants to be caught up on the current projects and put some faces to the names, is all. Don’t worry too much. You’ll do great,” you motivated your friend. “Now I have to make some other calls, so don’t freak out, okay? Bye.”

As you hung up, Juyeon stepped out of Younghoon’s office. Automatically, you stood up to give him a smile. “Do you need anything?” you offered, earning a grateful smile from him.

“No, no, I’m just on my way to do some errands for Younghoon,” Juyeon waved off your concern. “Thank you, though.” You nodded, sitting back down and going back to organising the team meetings. “You seem like you’re good at your job,” Juyeon complimented. “Very organised. Colour-coded, even,” he added.

“That’s me,” you laughed. “Was it too much?” you wondered. “I mostly did it to kill time waiting for him to come into the office.”

“You’re all good,” Juyeon assured you.

“What errands are you running?” you inquired. “If Younghoon needs anything, I can do it for him. It is my job, after all.”

“Just picking up some stuff for his office,” Juyeon said vaguely, giving you a sheepish smile. Recalling the way that Younghoon disregarded your offer to help him redecorate his office, you felt the nervous feeling in your stomach rise up again.

“He doesn’t like me very much, does he?” you said gloomily.

“He doesn’t know you,” Juyeon retorts. “And you’re great, really. If you were my secretary I’d be jumping for joy,” he promises. “You just… need to get to know him. He takes time to get comfortable with people.”

“Okay,” you smiled sadly. “Well, let me know if I can help with your errands. You can call the lobby and ask for me, they’ll forward your call.” Juyeon waved goodbye and you watched him walk out, slightly upset that Younghoon wanted his chauffeur to do your job, even if they were old friends.

“He’s scary,” Kevin told you when you came to check on him after his meeting with Younghoon. “The new Mr Kim is nothing like the old Mr Kim,” he added.

“What happened?” you asked, wondering what wound Kevin up so much. You knew that Kevin often overthought social interactions, as most socially awkward people do, but you had never seen him so jittery at work before.

“All he did was stare at us and take notes,” Kevin revealed. “He didn’t make any comments or expressions or anything. He just sat there, listened, then dismissed us like we’re school children.”

You winced. “That must have been tough,” you sympathised. “But I mean, it’s only the first meeting,” you tried to find a way to defend Younghoon, giving him the benefit of doubt.

“Sure, but first impressions are kind of important,” Kevin argued. “It’s not like I need to be his best friend the second we meet, but a little communication would have been nice.”

“I’m sorry, Kev,” you sighed. Just as you were about to offer to grab him some coffee, knowing how much he adored the bitter concoction, your phone rang. “Mr Kim,” you answered, seeing that it was forwarded from from your office.

“Younghoon,” he corrected.

You grimace. “Yes, Younghoon. I’m sorry, sir, force of habit,” you said, making Kevin cringe when he realised who you were talking to.

“Where are you?” Younghoon asked, his tone even.

“I’m taking my break,” you explained. “It’s on my schedule.”

“Yes, I see,” Younghoon hummed. “I’m looking at it right now. It doesn’t say where you are, though. I thought it was supposed to say that.”

You cursed silently. “You’re absolutely right, sir. I’m sorry. I can come back immediately,” you offered.

“Please do,” Younghoon said before hanging up the phone without saying goodbye.

“It is Mr Sunshine?” Kevin said sarcastically. “What’s up with you calling him by his first name?”

“He asked me to,” you shrug, putting your phone back in your pocket. “I gotta run. I’ll see you later?” Kevin waved and off you went back to your desk. “Mr- Younghoon,” you corrected yourself, finding Younghoon leaning against your desk waiting for you. “I’m sorry. What did you need me for?”

“You didn’t have lunch,” Younghoon said, tapping your laptop, which was open with your schedule on it.

“Pardon?” you asked.

“You didn’t take your lunch break, which means you haven’t eaten lunch,” your boss elaborated. “Let’s go. I’ll take you to lunch.”

Startled by his offer, you started shaking your head. “That’s alright, sir, I’ll just make a reservation for you.”

“I insist,” Younghoon retorted, taking his phone out of the pocket of his slacks. “Do you feel like eating anything in particular?”

“I’m not picky,” you said quietly, realising that you wouldn’t be able to get out of this.

“I’ll order in,” Younghoon decided, handing you his phone. “Pick whatever you want, it’s on me.”

“That’s really not necessary,” you attempted to argue, but Younghoon insisted.

Half an hour later, you were sat in the plush chair in front of Younghoon’s desk in his office, eating your noodles slowly as you observed your new boss. You weren’t sure if you were just misunderstanding him, or if he really was as blunt and cold as people said he was. However, you respected his father too much to make assumptions based on the first day of meeting him.

“My father speaks very highly of you,” Younghoon broke the silence in between bites of food. “He says that you’re the best secretary he’s ever had. And that you’re one of his favourite people he’s ever worked with.”

“Wow, that’s very high praise,” you said, stunned that Mr Kim even shared his compliments to you with his son. “I’m sure you and I will get along once we get to know each other better, too,” you offered.

Younghoon nodded. “People often misunderstand me,” he began. “I know that people think I’m cold and antisocial. Some people even think I’m arrogant,” a smile graced his face, one that was full and genuine. It lit up his sharp features and softened his entire face, causing him to practically glow. “The truth if that I’m just not very good at what I do yet. A lot of people have expectations of me and I want to meet them. But I’ve always been more reserved and introverted, so expressing that is hard for me.”

Pleased that he was opening up to you, you gave him an encouraging smile. “I understand,” you assured him. “I found this job really scary and hard when I first started. Mr Kim helped me a lot, and he made the office a warm environment where I felt comfortable.”

“I want to do that too,” Younghoon said. “But I also want people to take me seriously. I know I’m taking over much earlier than everyone expected me to, myself included, and I want to make a good impression.”

“You will make a good impression,” you told him. “It will just take some time.”

Younghoon nodded. “I think I scared the design team this afternoon,” he mumbled.

“You did,” you confessed, having just heard Kevin’s experience. Younghoon’s eyes filled with worry, brows furrowing together slightly. “But I think they would’ve been scared no matter what you were like.”

“I have a lot of positive things to say about them,” Younghoon told you, taking out his tablet and handing it to you. You took it, scrolling through the notes he took during the meeting. It was filled with compliments and suggestions to better the project.

“Kevin would love this,” you exclaimed. “These notes are very conceptual and visual, that’s exactly what helps him.” Handing his tablet back, you had to ask. “Why didn’t you say anything? Apparently, that’s what made the meeting the most daunting.”

“I didn’t want them to think that I thought I knew how to do their jobs better than them,” Younghoon confessed. “Because I don’t. That’s why they’re here.” The realisation that Younghoon was truly misunderstood hit you hard, and somehow it made you feel quite relieved. “I must have scared you this morning, too, then.” You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” you said easily. “Everything is still very new. Anytime you need help with this kind of thing, or if you’re unsure about anything, just talk to me. That’s what I’m here for, after all.”

Younghoon smiled again, and you observed how his handsome face could actually look quite cute. “Thank you, Y/n. Now eat your noodles before they get too cold.”

“Yes, boss,” you agreed, grinning before digging back into your lunch.

You first heard the news that the cost of company shares had plummeted from one of your friends in the finance department. Chanhee was good friends with you and Kevin, and he practically ran to your desk when he first saw the numbers going down.

“What happened?” you wondered, confused as to why the shares were going down in value all of a sudden. “Our most recent project was incredibly successful. Our shares should be going up in value more than anything.”

Chanhee bit his bottom lip, eyes flitting to the large oak door that led to Younghoon’s office. “He’s at a lunch meeting with a prominent fashion designer,” you explained, causing Chanhee to nod in relief.

“It’s Mr Kim,” Chanhee admitted, lowering his voice.

“Mr Kim?” you echoed. “Did he do something before Younghoon took over?”

Chanhee rolled his eyes. “No, I mean the new Mr Kim,” he corrected. “He only lets you call him by his first name,” he added, something that you hadn’t known. “When the news broke that he’s taking over, people started selling their shares at low prices. So, the value went down.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, confused. “But, he hasn’t even been here for a month yet? How can the public make such quick decisions on how he’ll impact the company?”

“Reputation is just as important as skills,” Chanhee reminded you. “You know that well. Mr Kim’s reputation is… Well, you work with him. I’ve been in meetings with him. He seems a little…”

“Cold?” you offered, sighing at the predicament at hand. Chanhee merely smiled, lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Okay. We can fix this. I can talk to Younghoon when he returns from his meeting and-“

“Talk to me about what?” Younghoon called, stepping into the room with Sangyeon and Juyeon in toll.

Juyeon waved. “Hi, Y/n,” he greeted you, Sangyeon nodding in acknowledgement.

“Hi Juyeon, Sangyeon,” you replied, standing up from your chair as Chanhee trembled. “Younghoon, I was just talking to Chanhee about the company’s finances,” you said vaguely, giving Chanhee the chance to bow and duck out of the room.

“I’m assuming you mean the share and stock values,” Younghoon nodded, motioning for you to follow him into his office. “I saw it before heading into my lunch meeting. I don’t think it should be a big deal,” he decided, taking a seat at his desk as you closed the door behind you. “I can just have a meeting with the investors to explain my situation and get things straight. Once they know I’m reliable and competent, the matter will surely be resolved.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” you confessed, causing Younghoon to pause in his action of opening his planner. “It’s just that reputation is very important here. Especially in large companies such as yours,” you added. “I think it would be best if we focused on stimulating your image more. So far, people only have rumours about you from your business school peers, as well as magazine and newspaper interviews to go off of. You’re still a mystery to the public.”

“I like my privacy,” Younghoon explained, a small pout forming on his mouth.

You averted your eyes from his lips. “But image is still important. Your father had the image of a friendly family-oriented man who raised money to build homes for the underprivileged population,” you recalled. “We could have some events to stimulate your own image. Parties, charity events…”

“You really think this will help?” Younghoon asked, eyes resembling those of a scared puppy.

The fact that he had terrified you so much upon your first meeting felt like a hundred years ago to you. Now that you had been working together for almost a month, you had seen how nervous Younghoon was. And how cute he could act. Seeing him around Sangyeon and Juyeon also helped. The pair was hilarious and they always brought out a happier, more relaxed side of Younghoon that you were pleased to see.

You knew that Younghoon just wanted to do well and make his father proud. He was less confident in his abilities than you thought he should be.

You nodded. “What should we do?” Younghoon wondered.

“I think we should find something that you enjoy and promote it,” you began. “What do you like to do, other than work?”

“I don’t have time for much else,” Younghoon thought. Whenever he was deep in thought, his head tilted to the side and and his eyes looked up at the ceiling as he mumbled under his breath. It was a truly cute sight.

“He likes music! He’s actually a pretty decent singer,” Sangyeon supplied for his friend, giving him an encouraging smile when Younghoon stammered a denial,

“That’s great,” you exclaimed. “We could talk to our charity department and look into funding music programs at schools. Arts are always underfunded and could use our help,” you suggested. “And I think that meeting with the investors is a good idea. But instead of talking about your qualifications and experience, you could talk about the direction you want to take the company in. Focus on the fact that you took over from Mr Kim the second he needed you.”

“Does that makes me sound soft and emotional?” Younghoon asked. “I don’t want to look weak in front of the investors.”

You smiled. “The investors are here because they trusted your father’s vision for the company, and they trusted that he was a family man who wanted to do good with the assets his company had.” You recalled the many meetings you sat in on with Mr Kim, and how much everyone adored him. “You take after your father. The fact that you finished business school early to help him with the company, and that you want to do well will please the investors.”

Juyeon laughed. “Your secretary knows this company better than you do,” he teased his friend.

Younghoon managed a smile, meeting your eyes amongst his giggling friends. “That’s why I need her,” he reminded Juyeon, a comment which made you beam.

“Y/n!” Sunwoo from advertising called out to you as you walked down the hall. He came rushing in your direction, despite the fact that you stood still to wait for him, holding a stack of papers in his hand. “Could you get these to Mr Kim for me?” he asked you, passing the papers on. “They’re the final proposals for the advertising of his charity event,” Sunwoo explained.

Younghoon’s meeting with the investors had gone really well, and he had definitely won their favours and respect. He mentioned wanting to invest in art and music programs because of his own passion for music, and had many ideas for a charity event to promote their program. The investors, always happy to go to a party and excited for the direction Younghoon wanted to take the company in, were overjoyed with his suggestion.

“Um, sure,” you agreed with furrowed brows. “Why don’t you just bring them to him, though? Your office is on the same floor.”

“Oh,” Sunwoo stared at you with large, round eyes. “Can’t,” he stammered. “Meeting. Gotta go. Thanks, Y/n!” he called, waving at you as he darted away in the direction of the elevator.

Ignoring his odd behaviour, you flipped through the pages to make sure everything was there before making your way back to your desk. When you arrived, you sorted out the notes you had photocopied for Younghoon from Sunwoo’s proposals, just as you heard another person call you name.

“Would you be able to give these to Mr Kim?” Changmin from human resources asked, showing you a thick stack of papers, stapled together in the top left corner. “They’re the human resources policies for the next financial year. He wanted to see them before the end of the week so he could sign off on them.”

“I can,” you agreed. “But his office is right there. Why don’t you just go in and give them to him? I’m sure he’d be happy to see you since he’s cooped up in his office all day.”

Changmin gave you a nervous smile, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “I would, but I actually have someone on hold at my desk,” he admitted.

Your eyes widened. “Why did you bring me this while waiting for someone? Go, go! It could be important,” you shooed him away, earning a loud thank you from him before he rushed to get back to his desk.

Sighing, you stacked his papers on top of the ones you were organising and made your way into Younghoon’s office, knocking on the door to let him know you were coming. “Woah,” Younghoon stared at the large pile of papers in your arms as you entered, leaving the door open behind you. “That’s a lot of photocopied notes from your meeting with Mr Park,” he observed.

You laughed at his comment, spreading the papers out in three neat piles in front of him. “I also have Sunwoo from advertising’s final proposal for the charity event ads, and I have Changmin from human resource’s policies for the next financial year.”

At your revelation, Younghoon groaned and buried his face in his hands. “They hate me,” he whined, looking at you from in between his fingers. “They don’t even want to come into my office. I always wonder if people are meeting their deadlines, since nobody ever comes to see me. But they just like you better than me.”

“They don’t like me better than you,” you deny, causing Younghoon to laugh ironically, removing his hands from his face so his pout was visible. “They just know me better than you! You’re still their new, cool, super educated boss. They haven’t gotten to know you yet.”

“You’re probably right,” he mumbled, flipping through your notes. “How do I get them to know me better?”

“Well, it might help if you don’t just stay in your office all day,” you suggested unsurely. “You don’t seem very… accessible to them.”

“But I like being in my office,” Younghoon told you. “It means you’re just a single door away. I like when you’re close by. It makes my day better.”

Your eyes widened at his unexpected compliment, causing Younghoon’s expression to follow suit. He laughed awkwardly, pink dusting his cheeks in embarrassment. “Was that inappropriate? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he apologised quickly, clasping his hands together and leaning slightly away from you.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassured him. “I’m glad that you’re comfortable around me.”

“I’m more than comfortable with you,” Younghoon corrected, standing up from his chair to be at eye-level with you. His tall presence used to want to make you cower away, but now that you knew Younghoon personally, you felt secure enough to meet his eyes and lean into him. “I’m… safe. Happy, even.”

The admission made you grin, not minding the way you could feel his breath against your cheek or the fact that you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. “I make you happy?” you whispered teasingly, relishing in the way that Younghoon’s cheeks darkened even further, a nervous laugh leaving his lips.

“Blissful,” Younghoon corrected, his eyes shining with warmth.

“This is cute,” a voice called behind you. You startled, turning to see Juyeon and Sangyeon standing in the doorway of Younghoon’s office, smirking at the two of you. Sangyeon had spoken, looking like he was ready to burst into giggles at any moment. “Do you guys always make fond eyes at each other when we leave you alone?” he teased.

Ignoring his comment, you greeted the two with a smile and excused yourself from Younghoon’s office to go cool off; you could feel your face heating up with embarrassment and wanted a moment to catch your breath.

In the time that Younghoon had taken over as CEO, you had gotten to see many sides of him. On the first day, he was open with you after making a bad first impression on you and you had decided that you would give him a chance. You hadn’t realised how shy and cute Younghoon could be. Of course, he could be loud and carefree around old friends like Sangyeon and Juyeon as well, and he was slowly starting to make jokes with you as well. Now, he was saying that he felt downright blissful when you were around.

The change made you really happy.

On the night of Younghoon’s charity event, you had arrived early to make sure everything was in order. Dressed to the nines, you had to admit that you were pleased with how you looked that evening, putting in a lot of effort since you knew that the event meant a lot to Younghoon.

After discussing how the dishes should go out with the catering company, you allowed yourself to take in the large ballroom now that it was empty and before it would be overcrowded with rich investors, businessmen, and press. Just as you were going over the schedule for the evening with the event planner, you heard a sharp intake of air behind you.

“Wow,” you turned around, revealing Younghoon standing there breathlessly.

He wore an elegant black suit and tie, topped off by perfectly styled hair and his usual silver watch that his father had given him for getting into Harvard Business School. Younghoon always looked handsome, but in this moment, he was absolutely radiant. He looked like he belonged at this event, like he was the CEO of the Kim corporation.

You smiled. “I could say the same,” you complimented, motioning to Younghoon with your hands. “You clean up pretty nicely.”

“Ah, well, my secretary did get my suit perfectly tailored to fit me,” Younghoon said, smoothing down lapels of his suit jacket with a beam.

“Your secretary must be smart,” you replied, stepping towards Younghoon and adjusting his tie properly. “Because you look great. Dignified, sophisticated-”

“Handsome?” Younghoon asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“You know you’re handsome,” you retorted with an eye roll.

“Maybe,” Younghoon shrugged, placing a hand on top of yours on his chest. You froze at his action, glancing up at him through your lashes. “But I want to hear what you think.”

“You look very handsome,” you allowed, trying to speak as smoothly as possible without indicating how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“If I look half as good as you, I’ll be happy,” Younghoon replied, gently releasing your hand and clearing his throat. “You did a really great job arranging this event. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Well the event planner organised it, I just told her what you wanted,” you said humbly, denying the large part you had in the event.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Younghoon told you. “If I know you at all, then you were constantly jotting down details that I mentioned vaguely and made sure that the event planner fixed everything to my preference,” he paused. “And I’d like to think that I know you quite well.”

“Believe me, you do,” you answered. “And thank you. For seeing the work I put in.”

“It’s you,” Younghoon shrugged. “I always see you.”

As the event began and more guests started coming, you were delighted to see Mr Kim enter with Younghoon’s mother on his arm, beaming at all the familiar faces he saw. “Mr Kim!” You called out to him, not having seen your old boss since his farewell party.

“Y/n,” Mr Kim replied, accepting a hug from you and releasing you so you could greet his wife. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“I’ve missed you, Mr Kim,” you admitted. Of course you loved working for Younghoon too, but you hadn’t seen Mr Kim in far too long.

“I’ve missed you too, Y/n,” Mr Kim promised. “Although, I’ve heard a lot about you from Younghoon any time we meet. It seems that you’re all he has to talk about, more so than his company,” Mr Kim narrowed his eyes at you playfully, a knowing glint in his eyes. “He seems quite taken with you.”

Taken with you. You could feel the butterflies start to wake up in your stomach as your heart beat a little faster at Mr Kim’s implication. “He’s wonderful to work with,” you told him, brushing off the way Mr and Mrs Kim were both giggling at you. “You’ve raised an amazing man.”

“Well, he certainly make us proud,” Mr Kim allowed. “You look nervous. You should be relaxing, Y/n. You planned a very successful charity event.”

“I’m more nervous about Younghoon behind nervous,” you admitted. “I just want him to know that he’s doing well. He always thinks he’s not doing good enough even though he’s gone above and beyond.”

“He might relax if he sees you have some fun,” Mr Kim said, stopping a passing waiter to get champagne for himself, Mrs Kim, and you. “A toast to Y/n and Younghoon’s partnership,” he proposed, causing the three of you to clink glasses and sip the bubbly beverage.

“Mum, Dad,” Younghoon appeared at your side, greeting his father and then his mother with hugs. “I didn’t know if you two would make it tonight.”

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Mr Kim assured his son, causing Younghoon’s lips to spread into a wide smile.

“You did great today, Younghoonie. You and Y/n have a lot to be proud of,” Mrs Kim added.

“Thank you, Dad, Mum,” Younghoon was ecstatic to hear praise from his father. “I couldn’t have done it without Y/n, though. I’m grateful that you hired her.”

“I bet you are,” Mr Kim hummed, winking at his son before facing Mrs Kim. “How about a dance?” he offered, excusing themselves and making their way to the dance area.

When you turned to face Younghoon, his face seemed to have reddened. “What did my dad tell you?” he wondered.

You raised an eyebrow. “Um, just that you talk about me to him a lot. And that you’re quite taken with me,” you recalled, realising how romantic Mr Kim’s descriptions were.

Younghoon whined embarrassedly, shutting his eyes as if it would make him disappear. “I told him not to talk to you about any of that, I wanted to tell you all that myself…” he muttered, opening his eyes to see your curious expression.

“All what?” you asked dumbly, hoping that you weren’t just getting your hopes up at Mr Kim’s implications.

“The way I feel about you,” Younghoon explained nervously. “I wanted to tell you… Tell you that I’ve loved working with you these past few months. That you make me nervous and excited and happy whenever I’m around you. How hearing your voice makes my day and how I can barely contain a blush any time we’re alone. That I’m falling in love with you more and more every single day…” he trailed off, gently taking your hands in his. His touch was familiar now. “I didn’t want my declaration to be in such a public place, though,” Younghoon’s eyes flitted around he crowded ballroom.

You laughed, tears blurring your vision just slightly. “It’s fine,” you promised him, lacing your fingers through his. “I don’t care where you tell me, as long as I know.”

Younghoon nodded, taking your comment as permission to pull you closer to him. “This is the part where you tell me that you feel the same,” he whispered, close enough in proximity for you to hear his murmur above the noise in the ballroom.

“You seem confident that I return your feelings,” you mentioned, trailing your hands from his up his arms, across his shoulders and eventually to rest on the back of his neck. “What happened to the sweet, introverted Younghoon that couldn’t even smile at me when we met?”

“Precisely that: I met you,” Younghoon told you. “Now, if you’re not going to tell me that you feel the same, you should at least kiss me,” he added as an afterthought. “It would only be fair.”

“Well, in the name of fairness…” you trailed off, lifting onto the balls of your feet to lean up and press your lips to Younghoon’s.

The pounding in your heart only intensified, encouraged by the way Younghoon smile against your lips before returning your kiss. In that moment, it didn’t matter that you were in public at all. All you could focus on was the way Younghoon’s lips felt on yours and how he pulled you impossibly closer to him with each bruising kiss.

“Disgusting,” you heard a voice mutter, easily recognising it as Juyeon’s after months of seeing him almost every day. Reluctantly, you pulled away from Younghoon, glancing sideways to where Sangyeon and Juyeon were sipping on champagne to hide their excited smiles.

“You guys know that you’re in public, right?” Sangyeon added.

“It’s my event,” Younghoon shrugged. “If I want to kiss my secretary then I will.”

“I hope you don’t go around kissing all of your secretaries,” you retorted with a laugh.

“Just the one I’m in love with,” he replied, sending you a wink that made your heart flutter.

note: this was a long one but i hope you still enjoyed it!

#the boyz #the boyz imagines #younghoon imagines #younghoon x reader #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenarios #kim younghoon #the boyz fanfic #tbznetwork #2k celebration #the boyz drabbles #fic: the c in ceo stands for cute #deobiwritersnet

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angelmavmurdock · 3 years

Text

Our Little Secret: Part Six - A.R.

Word count: 5976 Summary: After Lenora’s funeral, Arvin learns some news about her. Y/n and Arvin have sex for the first time and ends up being way past her curfew...

WARNINGS: SMUT, FINGERING, DIRTY TALK (mild), READER'S FIRST TIME

I attended Lenora's funeral as her best friend.

No one knew about Arvin and I and we were keeping it for a different reason now. Not in case Lenora found out but to keep everyone else sane in this crazy time.

I had taken a week off school, helping the Russell's around the house with cooking, cleaning and some company. Emma was absolutely distraught, only coming out of bed when she needed the bathroom or needed to eat - even then it wasn't promised.

Ma was so busy with helping Daddy while I was busy helping the Russell's, we hardly got to see each other. But we both knew after the funeral things would calm down.

Arvin was handling his sister's death strangely. He wasn't sad. He didn't cry. He would go out on car rides, asking to be alone a lot of the time. I didn't know what he was doing and to be honest, I didn't want to know.

At night, once Earskell had went to bed and well after Emma had went to bed, we'd stay up, sitting outside on the patio in the old rocking chairs with some tea and listen to the radio quietly humming in the background. We wouldn't really speak much. We'd just be in each other's presence. We'd kiss. Then I'd go home.

But today was her funeral. I had a standard funeral outfit on: a black dress with tights and patent shoes with a black ribbon in my hair. I had been crying all day so my tears stained my cheeks and my eyes were red and puffy.

Emma was much the same as me while Arvin was trying to be strong for us, only a few tears leaving his eyes during the ceremony. He held me close to him, his hand just above the curve of my waist to not draw attention to us. We stood by together as Emma cried over her casket.

"Oh Lord, there's just some things we can't understand..."

She cried, kneeling to the floor and caressing the wood with her soft hands.

"But you take her into your arms..." She had to stop speaking because of her sobs.

I watched, tears falling from my face and I looked up at Arvin, rubbing my hand over his back softly. He stared numbly at the casket, only the ever-so-often squeeze of my waist indicating he was okay.

"Now I ain't somebody for sayin' prayers or..." Earskell talked, coughing and then clenching his jaw.

Arvin looked over to his Uncle and then removed his arm from around me, leaving me feeling cold without him. He slightly bent over and helped Emma to her feet, holding her by her arm and then wrapping his other arm back around me, this time on my waist.

"Let's go home." I said in almost a whisper.

Emma and everyone else nodded. I pulled away from Arvin and when he looked at me I looked back as if to say it was okay. He nodded slightly and helped his Grandma to the truck. I followed loosely behind the three of them, giving them some space to be with each other in the fresh air.

As I walked behind them through the grave yard I thought about everything.

What did she have to tell me? What happened with the preacher? Why was she so ashamed? Why did she want to end her own life?...

There were too many questions and none of them I could answer. I was supposed to be her best friend and I felt like I had let her down. I had let her down.

***

"I think it'll be real good if you went out for a night, Emma." I sighed, sitting next to her on her bed.

It had been a few days since the funeral and she was still lying in bed, only getting up for the bare minimum. Even for food she wasn't getting up for, which I was cooking each night.

"I don't have the energy, y/n." She croaked.

"I think you need a bath. And a nice new dress. And your hair did and your friends around you. There's a church day out at the beach on Saturday. I think you should go." I said with a smile.

She laughed lightly, "Honey, I hardly have five dollars to put together, how am I supposed to buy a new dress and get my hair done?"

A grin grew on my face, "Luckily I am here to help with that."

***

Saturday rolled around and I showed up early morning with two new dresses for Emma. She had gotten her hair done the day before and she was feeling a lot better. She showered and I met her in her room when she came out. I lay the two dresses on the bed and she looked in confusion.

"Pick your favourite and I'll see you in the living room." I smiled simply then left her room, closing the door behind me.

I waited in the living room with Arvin who was reading the newspaper, a cigarette bouncing between his lips and an ash tray.

"Ma asked for me to be home at 9 tonight." I said with a sigh.

Arvin looked up from the paper, "Really? That early?"

"Yeah. She does not like you." I groaned.

"Damn...I'm guessin' there's not much I can do about that, huh?"

"Not really...don't you have work today?" I asked.

"Only a small shift. Just gettin' back into it after the accident and then obviously..." He gulped.

"I know...well that'll be good." I smiled.

"Yeah."

"I'm ready!" Emma called from her bedroom.

"Come on out!" I beamed, getting up from the couch.

She clicked down the hallway in her red kitten heels. I gasped with delight. She chose the poppy patterned dress that flowed lightly below her knees. It fit her perfectly. A silver cross hung over her clavicle and her hair was pinned up nicely.

"Emma Russell, you look absolutely divine!" I grinned.

She blushed, "Really? I do love this dress, I can't thank you enough y/n."

"It's no problem at all. I'm just glad you're feelin' better and havin' fun. You deserve it."

She took a deep breath and smiled, "Thanks, darlin'."

Arvin got up to drive her to the church and he complimented her with an embrace.

"I'll be back around 11pm. It's late but the girls are all hitchin' rides with the men after their poker."

"Well I'll be gone by 9 so I'll see you tomorrow? I hope you have fun, Emma." I hummed, hugging her tightly.

"Thank you so much. Have fun!" She waved as Arvin opened the door for her.

We both watched as she and Earskell talked, going to the truck. Arvin closed the door slightly, leaning forward to me.

I giggled and cupped his face, bringing his lips to mine. It was soft but meaningful. His hands lightly touched my waist before we both pulled away.

"Have a good day at work and drive safe, alright?" I said.

"Thanks, y/n. I'll see you later. Bye." He flashed me a smile before leaving the house.

And I was left for nearly a whole day by myself.

***

Arvin's POV

The working truck pulled up to the car park outside. I jumped off the end along with everyone else and we said our goodbyes. As I headed to the truck I saw an officer standing by, looking at me.

"Need to have a word with you, Arvin." He announced.

"About what?" I asked, standing a few yards from him.

"It's uh...it's about Lenora." He spoke awkwardly.

I took a deep breath and looked away for a second, "What about her?"

"I came by here instead of home so nothin's put on your grandmother-"

"Put on her? What do you mean?" I asked.

The officer removed his uniform hat which is never a good sign. He seemed awkward. He seemed nervous.

"Y'know old Dudley in the coroners? He's a drunk but...he ain't no liar."

I looked at him with a stern look, masking the fact that my stomach was flipping inside.

"Did you know Lenora was carryin' a baby?" He asked.

I tilted my head slightly, my eyes on his. This seemed real. But it couldn't be.

I continued staring at him, hoping he'd crack.

"That's bullshit. That son of a bitch is lyin'." I clenched my jaw.

"Dudley ain't a liar. He came to me privately so as your family knew...I felt he was right." The officer nodded.

I averted eye contact, feeling myself tear up. No, no, no, no, no.

"I might've put my foot in somethin' but that wasn't my intention."

He fiddled with his dark green fedora, uncomfortable with the conversation and uncomfortable with the fact he had to tell me.

"You know that preacher ain't said no words for her? Not for people that kill themselves." I shook my head and clenched my jaw.

That son of a bitch.

***

I drove home in anger and confusion. When I pulled up, I saw y/n outside on one of the rocking chairs, a mug in her hand and a blanket wrapped around her.

My mood lifted almost automatically. She looked gorgeous in the dim sunlight. I remembered the house was empty and I was happy in that y/n and I could spend time together alone but then again, Lenora wasn't there.

I walked tiredly up the steps and she sat her mug down with a pout of her plump lips.

"Hey, you okay?" She asked me, standing up.

I didn't say anything.

"Arvin?" She prompted.

I looked up at her.

"How was work?" She asked, trying to pry something from me.

"It was fine." I shrugged, walking back to lean against the post.

She bit her lip, "Is somethin' botherin' you?"

She knew me too well.

"A uh...a police officer stopped me before goin' home." I said, retrieving a cigarette from my pocket and lighting it.

"What? Why?" She asked, arms folding as she leaned against the opposite post.

I chuckled. It wasn't to be annoying. It was in anger and confusion and disbelief.

"He told me that Lenora - my innocent, God-loving, 17-year-old sister - was pregnant before she died." I stated.

She blinked at me like a deer in headlights. She didn't speak for a few seconds, her brain working to log the information properly.

"She uh...she was p-pregnant? No." She shook her head.

"Well she was." I took a puff.

"What the hell? How did I not know?" She pressed a hand to her chest.

"Don't get mad at me I'm just repeatin' what he said!"

"I'm not mad! I'm just...she was pregnant?"

I licked my lips and nodded.

She chewed her lip in thought, wrinkles forming between her eyebrows.

"I don't believe it. That's bullshit."

"That's what I said. But, apparently some guy down at the coroner's said that she was. And apparently, he don't lie." I said.

She shook her head, "Who...who was the father? Cause he'll be out there right now runnin' free!" She exclaimed.

"I don't know. I have an idea but I don't know." I licked my back teeth.

I couldn't tell her about the preacher. She clearly didn't know and I wasn't about to tell her. Because if I told her I would have to explain how I knew and stalking some guy doesn't seem like the best thing to say.

"Well that is just...wow." She rubbed her face.

"I know."

We both went silent, our heads filled with thought and worry and confusion. How could neither of us had known?

"Are you gonna tell your Grandma?" She asked.

"No. No, I'm not." I dropped the cigarette butt and stood on it.

"I think it would set her back." She agreed.

"Exactly. She don't need that right now, she's at a good place."

y/n nodded, agreeing with me. I sighed and took my hat off, running a hand through my hair. y/n walked towards me with her arms outstretched. I smiled and welcomed her. Her arms wrapped around me tightly, her chest pressed against mine. I leaned my head on top of hers and stroked her back softly.

"We didn't get to tell Lenora." She whispered.

I gulped, "I know..."

"Well if heaven is real then she'll be lookin' down at us thinkin': I told you so."

We both chuckled at the thought. But it was slightly uncomfortable to think of her that way. Dead. In heaven. I didn't like it.

"Hey," She chirped from underneath me.

I moved my head and looked at her. She reached her hands up and wrapped them around my neck.

"You were such a good big brother." She stated.

An immediate lump in my throat formed at her words. Not if you knew the things I had done or what I was planning to do...

"And you're an amazin' person, Arv. You really are." She smiled.

I just smiled weakly at her.

"And I know you feel like you have to be strong all the time but with me...with me you don't have to." She whispered, trailing her hands down then up my chest.

Reader's POV

He stared down at me with a sudden look of lust and hunger. Before I knew it, I was being pushed back against the post, gasping as the wood hit my back. Arvin kissed me ferociously, his tongue pushing into my mouth without missing a beat. I moaned in surprised but sunk into him, getting the fast-paced rhythm he was implementing.

He moved his kisses to my neck and he began to kiss and suck on my sweet spot.

"Arvin," I moaned breathlessly, tugging his hair slightly.

His hands slid down my dress and grabbed my ass through the fabric as his mouth worked on my skin.

"Feels so good." I hummed.

His lips came back up to mine and our tongues worked with each other's, pushing and swirling in some sort of dance. It was passionate and hot and I felt like I needed more of him.

Suddenly his hands roamed further to my thighs and swiftly lifted me up. I gasped as my legs locked around his torso effortlessly. He smirked up at my surprise and kissed me again. He blindly opened the door and it slammed shut behind us. He walked through while kissing me intensely.

And then I knew I was in his room. I had only been in once or twice for laundry but I knew it was his. He pushed me against the door, ultimately closing it. I moaned again and he moved his lips to my neck again.

"Want you, Arvin." I hummed.

He looked up at me with a glint of lust and hope in his eyes.

"You sure?" He asked.

"I need you." I whispered.

That was enough for him.

He brought me off the wall and to his bed, lying me carefully on his sheets, getting on top of me.

He kept kissing me, his hands beginning to lift my dress up. I sat up and allowed him to slide it off my body. Thankfully I was wearing nicer underwear this time. He threw my dress to the side and looked down at my body in awe.

He stood up from the bed, eyes burning through my skin as he started to undo his buttons on his shirt.

I felt a colour rise to my cheeks. He was seeing me in my underwear. No guy had ever seen me in my underwear before.

"You are fuckin' unreal, darlin'." He complimented, his eyes shining with adoration.

I bit my lip, "You're makin' me nervous standin' like that."

He removed his shirt and then pulled off his dirty white t-shirt from underneath. I had seen his chest before but his bruises were nearly healed and he looked even better than before. Probably since he'd been working all day. He undid his belt and then slid down his trousers, stepping out of them.

My jaw dropped. Arvin. In. His. Underwear.

"Whatcha starin' at?" He smirked.

I gulped then looked back up at him, "Nothin' much."

He shook his head and leaped on top of me. I squealed before he kissed me.

"You're a minx, that's what you are." He chuckled against my lips.

"Well then teach me how to be good." I whispered.

He pulled away, looking down at me with his dilated brown eyes, almost completely black with passion.

"Fuck, I want to."

He began to slide his hand down my body, making rest stops at my waist and my hip before teasing the waistband of my pants. I gasped and looked up at him in lust.

"Have you ever been touched before?" He asked lowly.

He slid his hand carefully into my panties. I arched my back and moaned lightly at his touch.

"N-no." I answered honestly.

His eyebrows furrowed for a split-second.

"You've never been touched before? When you look this pretty?" He quirked an eyebrow.

His fingers slowly circled on my clit, warming me up. I grasped his arm and bit my lip at the new feeling.

"Have you ever touched yourself before?"

My throat went dry.

"No." I answered again.

He smiled, "That's okay...but you've gotta tell me if you don't like what I'm doin', alright?" He asked.

I nodded with a hum.

He pulled my panties off and I felt completely exposed. Only my brasserie covered the last part of my modesty. But I felt safe with Arvin. I trusted him.

His hand returned back to my core where he continued rubbing circles on my clit. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the new-found pleasure.

"Already so wet, darlin'."

I whimpered at his filthy words and felt his finger slide down my core. He slowly pushed a finger into my entrance. I gasped and gripped his arm that rested beside my head, propping himself up.

He started moving it in and out, beginning to pick up a pace.

"How does that feel?" He asked.

"So- good." I hummed, eyes closed in pleasure.

He began to speed his finger up, curling it up to find my spot. I moaned, bucking my hips into his palm as if to say more.

He got the message and slipped a second finger in with ease. I moaned loudly as his fingers worked inside of me. His thumb grazed constantly over my clit and whatever he was doing was making my stomach flutter.

I could hear the sounds of my arousal and it added to the pleasure.

"So good for me, y/n. So good." He praised.

"Arvin!" I whined.

"What, angel?" He asked softly.

"I need you. Please." I practically humped his hand in desperation.

He smirked, "You sure you're ready?" He asked cautiously.

I nodded, "Please."

He removed his hand from me, leaving me a whimpering, pathetic mess. He slid his underwear off and my jaw dropped once again. His member was a lot bigger than I had anticipated. But to be honest, I had never seen one so I had nothing to compare it to. But my god.

He pumped himself in his hand as he got back onto the bed, kneeling between my legs. I sat up and removed my bra myself. I then took my hair out of the band and the ribbon, sitting them aside. I lay back down, attempting to make my hair look as nice as it could splayed out on the bedsheet.

"You're so fuckin' gorgeous. Can't wait to feel you." He groaned, getting on top of me.

I bit my lip and held his arm with one hand and gripped his hair with the other.

"You ready?" He asked.

I took a deep breath and nodded. He leaned down and encased my lips in a passionate but loving kiss, our lips moving slowly over each other's and our tongues swirling around perfectly. I got so distracted by the kiss that Arvin could easily slip half-way into me. I gasped at the feeling of him.

"Is that okay?" He checked, brushing some of my hair out of my face.

I nodded and hummed. He gave me a moment to adjust to his size. It was slightly uncomfortable but that soon went away when he pulled back then thrusted slowly into me again.

"Arvin," I moaned.

He lifted my thigh up to his side and pushed further into me. I tugged his hair and bit my lip.

"So fuckin' tight, fuck. Feel so good, darlin'." He panted.

"Please go faster." I whimpered.

He dipped his head into the crook of my neck and held my thigh firmly as he began thrusting into me. His pace sped up quickly and soon enough he was moving effortlessly into me.

"Feels so good!" I moaned, arching my back into his chest.

His lips came to my breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth. I gasped at the new feeling as his tongue lapped over my skin. His thrusts sped up and he completely bottomed me out, his skin slapping against mine with every push.

"Oh god!" I tugged on his hair.

He groaned, "So gorgeous, so hot - fuck."

I rolled my eyes back at his words.

In a Christian based Southern state, having premarital sex was looked down upon. But it didn't feel wrong. It felt so good.

"So tight around me," He commented lowly.

"Can we flip?" I asked breathlessly.

"'Course."

He smoothly flipped us, so he was on his back. I bit my lip and hovered over him, taking his member in my hand.

"Fuck." We both cursed in unison.

I pumped him in my hand a few times to see what it was like and how he reacted. He gripped my thigh tighter and bit his lip. I smirked, feeling a pang of power course through me.

I swiped his member on my folds, surprised at how wet I actually was. I slowly sank down on him and we both let out long groans as I bottomed him out.

"W-woah." I panted.

He sat up, shifting inside of me. I moaned a little at the movement. His arms wrapped around me and I held his shoulders. I kissed him deeply, running my hands up into his hair and his tongue explored my mouth like it never had before.

I started to move on him, up and down was my instinct. Apparently I was right.

"Fuck, darlin'." He cursed against my lips.

"Oh god." I moaned, gripping his broad shoulders for support.

He gathered my cascading hair and put it behind my back as I moved on top of him. For some reason it made emotions flow in my brain.

Love.

They way he cared for me and was gentle with me obviously set off an emotion I had never really felt before. Not romantically, anyway.

I looked into his dark eyes and stopped bouncing on him. He looked into my eyes and held my waist. He started to move my hips in a grinding motion. My mouth dropped open slightly at the feeling.

His eyes stayed on mine as I rolled my hips on his, his hands guiding me. It was intimate and passionate and I loved him. I held him as close to me as possible, our chests matching and my hands massaging his scalp.

"Arvin," I moaned.

I could feel a build up of tension in my stomach.

One of his hands slowly came down between us and started to rub my clit again. I threw my head back in pleasure, the feeling intensifying.

"Shit!"

"You close, darlin'?" He asked lowly.

"Close? To- to what?" I asked, fastening my movements.

"Fuck- to your high, baby."

His fingers kept working on my clit and his other hand still guided my hip.

"My high? Oh fuck! That feels so good!" I moaned loudly and highly.

His fingers worked faster.

"If you feel like you need to let go...then do it, baby." He groaned.

I didn't really know what he meant but the feeling in my core and stomach tightened.

"Oh god! Yes! Yes!" I moved my hips faster on him.

"God you feel so good, baby. So good around me." He praised.

I dug my nails into his back, my head going to his forehead.

"Arvin, I love you." I admitted breathlessly.

"You-you love me?" He repeated as if he was surprised.

"Yes! Yes, I love you." I bit my lip.

"y/n...pretty girl," He brushed some of my hair behind my ear.

"I love you, too." He grinned.

I stopped my movements for a second to smile and kiss him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing him as close to me as possible.

He started to thrust up into me, the sound of skin slapping and my surprised moans filling the room.

"Oh! Yes! God, yes!" I squealed.

He worked a lot faster than I did. His member brushed a spot inside of me I didn't even know existed. I could feel myself clenching around him and he groaned at the feeling.

"Let go for me, baby. Come on." He grunted.

"I love you! Arvin, I- yes!"

I felt the knot in my stomach snap and the feeling in my core burn. I moaned and cursed and gripped Arvin's hair in ecstasy. He continued thrusting up into me, my wetness dripping down onto him and his thighs.

"Feels so good baby, good job." He praised.

He kept me in my high like I had entered nirvana. My mind went cloudy, my vision hazy, my hearing muffled. All I could sense was Arvin. And that's all I needed.

"Fuck, baby-"

He quickly flipped me back onto my back and pulled out of me. I was still somehow in my high but I opened my eyes to see what he was doing. He pumped his member a few times before grunting and finished on my upper thigh and lower stomach.

I watched in awe. His muscles tensed and untensed, his head was thrown back and the sounds leaving his mouth were heaven.

After he calmed down he crashed next to me and we both caught our breaths.

"Sorry about that, I should have asked you." He sighed.

"It's okay. I liked it." I giggled.

He shook his head and looked at me, "You are perfect, y/n."

I shook my head back, brushing my hand over his loose curls, "No, you are."

He smiled at my touch, "How was it?"

I laughed lightly, "Good. I didn't even know it was possible to feel like that."

He smirked, "I'm a master, what can I say?"

I rolled my eyes and smacked his chest. He laughed and then shuffled closer to me, lips decorating my shoulder.

"Did you mean what you said?" He asked quietly.

I nodded, "Every word."

His lips connected to mine in a soft, long kiss.

"I love you." I whispered.

"I love you, too."

He dropped the needle onto the record and waited for the music to play.

(Play now)

'Cry To Me' by Solomon Burke began to play through the speaker.

Arvin had poured us a glass of very fancy scotch each. He said it was only for special occasions. I had only put my panties and one of his button down shirts on. The warm, humid weather was enough to keep me warm. Arvin wore a white vest shirt and some long pyjama bottoms.

"I love this song." I hummed, sipping the warm alcohol from the crystal glass.

"Dance with me." Arvin stated rather than questioned.

I smiled and sat my glass down. He gave me his hand and twirled me under his arm before bringing me into his chest.

We held hands on one side while his other hand held my waist and my other held his shoulder. We swayed back and forth to the music, enjoying the post-sex bliss.

"Come on, and cry to me." I sang an octave higher.

Arvin smiled, "I love you."

I giggled, "I love you, too."

We stayed like that, dancing and singing to the parts we knew, hands all over each other, stealing a few kisses whenever we could. He'd spin me out and I'd attempt to spin him but he could never get the hang of it.

We were happy. And we were in love.

"I've never seen you like this before, you know? I like happy on you." I smiled up at him.

A one sided smile curved on his face, "No one's been able to bring it out of me before."

I bit the inside of my lip at his words. Part of me was happy and proud that I could make him feel like that but the other part felt horrible that he's felt that way for so long.

"Well get ready to be happy a whole bunch, 'cause I ain't goin' nowhere."

He laughed, twirling me under his arm and back into his chest.

"That's exactly what I want." He smirked, leaning down to kiss me.

Our lips pressed together.

But only briefly.

A truck pulled up outside. And both of us turned to look out the window.

"Wait WHAT?!" I shouted, noticing that it was Emma and Earskell in the car.

I looked at the clock on the wall.

11:57.

"SHIT!" I exclaimed.

It was nearly midnight. I was supposed to be home at nine.

I scrambled to Arvin's bedroom and hurriedly put on my dress and shoes. Arvin put the shirt I was wearing on and changed into his work trousers again. He grabbed his jacket and his keys, shoving his feet into his shoes as we ran to the front door.

"Oh! You two are still here?" Emma jumped at the sight of us rushing past her outside.

"Back soon!" Arvin shouted.

I jumped into the passenger seat and Arvin got in the drivers. He pulled out frantically and drove off.

"Oh my god. I'm dead. I'm dead." I panicked.

"Just calm down, you'll be fine." Arvin tried to soothe me, speeding through the village.

"You'll be dead, too! Oh god what are they gonna do, Arvin?" I gripped my hair.

"We're nearly there, it'll be fine." He grasped my thigh lightly.

I took deep breaths, looking out at the silent town as we zoomed past everything. The dread in my stomach grew as we drove up the road and then entered the grounds, past the gate.

"Go before they get you, alright?" I ordered, jumping out the car.

"Y/N Y/M/N YL/N! Where the HELL have you been?!" Ma shouted from the door, storming outside.

"Ma, I can explain! Let's just go inside!" I exclaimed.

"Boy, get out that car right now!" She shouted at Arvin.

"Ma! Stop! It's not his fault!" I shouted, beginning to get defensive.

Arvin got out of the car and held his hands in his trouser pockets, walking towards Ma and I. I saw Daddy standing by the door, watching everything and my heart ached.

"You are supposed to be takin' care of her! How dare you keep her away this long with no contact! How dare you!" She shouted at Arvin, pointing a finger at hi accusingly.

"Ma! He didn't do anything!" I shouted.

"I am not STUPID y/n! I know that you two have been gettin' together almost every night. I see the car bein' parked behind the gate, I see the way you two look at each other. And I do not have a problem with that! But if the so called MAN known for his sexual acts keeps my 18 year old daughter out until MIDNIGHT, I am not gonna be happy!"

"We lost track of time, ma'am." Arvin stated calmly.

"Oh did ya' now? Doin' what?"

"Ma!" I shouted.

"No! I wanna know what was so important that stopped you from comin' home on time!"

Arvin and I stuttered, not knowing what or how to say anything.

Ma scoffed and clenched her jaw. We could practically see steam coming from her ears.

"You. Inside. Now." She demanded, pointing at me.

I furrowed my brows, "No! I'm not goin' inside with you!"

"y/n, inside right now!"

"No! I'm not leavin' Arvin!" I held his arm in mine.

Her chest heaved with rage, "Arvin, stay the hell away from my daughter."

Ma went to grab my arm but I dodged it.

"No!" I screamed.

"y/n!"

"No! I wanna be with Arvin!"

"He is no good for you!" She shouted as if he wasn't there.

"You do not get to tell me what I can and can't do! I'm an adult and if I am in love with someone-"

"IN LOVE?" Ma shouted.

"Yes! In love! We love each other and you can't stop that!" I held his arm so tightly I was surprised I hadn't cut his circulation off yet.

"You are not to be with each other anymore. You are a bad influence on my daughter and I never want to see you near her again. Do you understand?" She spoke sternly to Arvin.

I looked up at him. He gulped, his eyes becoming teary, "I understand." He uttered.

"Arvin!" I scoffed.

"I'll leave you alone." He murmured, beginning to walk away.

"Arvin! What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted, my arm still attached to him as he - we - walked away.

He opened the car door and clenched his jaw, not looking at me.

"Go with your parents. I've done enough."

"Arvin, don't say that! You- you just said you loved me!" I felt tears begin to fall from my eyes.

His chin quivered, "Just go, y/n. Please."

"What? No. No! I'm not going!"

He ripped his arm away from me and went to get in the car.

"No!"

I slammed the door so he couldn't get in.

"No! You don't get to do that, Arvin! You don't get to say you love me then fuck off when somethin' comes between us!" I shouted, realising these were more sobs than anything.

"Just go inside, y/n." He said to the ground.

I furrowed my brows and shook my head in disbelief.

"y/n-" I interrupted my mother.

"No! Arvin, please! Why are you doing this?"

"We can't be together." Arvin sniffed.

"Yes we can! We can!" I went to cup his face but he moved away.

I didn't know if it was sadness or utter rage but I broke down in tears.

"You said you loved me!" I screamed, pushing him against the car.

He took it. He didn't look at me, though. But he took my babyish tantrum.

"You said you loved me!" I cried, hitting his chest.

"y/n, go inside. Please." He begged quietly.

I saw tears fall from his face.

I stopped and stood back, watching with blurred eyes as he got into the car and drove off quickly.

I choked on a sob and kneeled to the ground in a cry, letting all the emotions I had pent up go. Absolutely everything.

Ma came up to me to comfort me but I pushed her off and stood back up.

"No! You don't get to comfort me after ruining love for me." I cried, pushing past her and running to the house.

I ran up the steps and I paused briefly when I saw Daddy watching with tired and heartbroken eyes. He silently moved to the side to let me storm away. I sobbed uncontrollable sobs as I ran up the stairs and slammed my door shut, sliding down to the floor.

I thought he loved me.

{Tags: @notanordinaryprincess96 @imagine-yourself-happy }

#arvin russel #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russel fluff #arvin russel smut #arvin russel angst #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel mmini series #mini series #tom holland #tom holland series #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #tom holland fic #arvin russel fic #one shot #arvin russel imagine #imagine #tom holland imagine

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junhuiste · 3 years

Text

break the code (ex-wip)

pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader

wc: 1900

tags/warning: basketball!soonyoung, college au, slightly suggestive language, cursing

a/n: this was something i started way back in 2017 when i was 15 lol and i tried going back to it and finishing but i just can’t seem to continue it!! but i don’t want it to just sit in my drafts so i’m just going to post the unfinished wip! i might do this with a lot of wips i’ve had collecting dust over the years (and they’re like 99% svt lol); if i ever do find some stroke of inspo to finish it i might but for now enjoy the 1900 words i wrote when i was a sophomore

“But babe, you’ll sit on my side, right?” Soonyoung continued to pester you with countless little questions to which he knew the exact answers to.

You pursed your lips at your boyfriend; mild sorrow and guilt clouded your eyes. In return he pout your favorite pair of plush pillows to kiss, with dull bleakness and dismals fogging his irises. It was hard, really, to resist the pull of a magnet, who was trying every trick in the book to coerce you to sit on his school’s side of the bleachers for the upcoming basketball game on Friday.

Had it been that both of you were just your run-of-the-mill university couple, tachycardia would’ve caused you to blurt out “yes” instantaneously just by being gazed upon by Soonyoung, but alas, the big guy upstairs made it to be so that you technically couldn’t through the rulebook of the sibling code.

A flushed palm extended to your denim-covered thighs, with the utmost desire lacing his fingers.

“Pretty please? With a cherry on top?” His digits creeped towards your inner thigh, getting closer to the actual cherry he wanted on top.

“Soonyoung, no matter how well you do me, I’m still obligated to sit on my side of the bleachers.”

None of Soonyoung’s coercions could persuade you to decide about where to sit. You really would’ve preferred to sit on his side, but with your current situation, none of that was possible. It was a precarious oscillation between blood and water, and neither did you want to drown in with regret for embracing one over another.

“Fine. If you can’t cheer me on–which is a pitiful shame–let me take you out to eat after the game. And we can make out in my car or something so he won’t have to know.” Soonyoung’s gaze no longer held flashes of fervor, but rather a decadent gleam of sheer admiration.

“It’s a done deal, but you better promise me to dunk on him, or be prepared to get dunked on by him. As of right now, however, you owe me some kisses for making me wobble continuously back and forth between your side and his before I go,” you taunted, “come here you little rascal.”

Soonyoung gleamed at you piercingly, yielding you to lean forward against him as a shock of joy sparked up your back. His hand feathered along the back of your thigh, brushing it so longingly, with a tinge of impertinence here and there. You could feel the urgency radiating from him as he struggled to press you even closer to him, as there were no more gaps to be filled. He grasped your chin gingerly, before connecting his lips with yours, wanting to revel in dire coalescence he’d been awaiting upon your arrival.

Soonyoung is the warm bath you dip yourself into after constant exhaustion, the meager yet compelling and needed breeze as the sun beats down you, the red mark that’s actually relieving and boasts “A+” on a hard worked assignment, the last basket shot as the clock dashes away with the snickering seconds, and he is what has you torn on where your loyalty stands, but you can’t thank him enough for that strife.

You pulled away first because getting you two to separate would be a long ass haul, and maybe it was also getting late, just maybe. Your eyes glimpsed at the badgering hands that indicated 11:35 PM, and nothing but a sullen sigh managed to escape your lips.

It wasn’t fair, how time sashayed away, but there were no seconds left to spare to sulk about it, so you caressed the tranquility Soonyoung’s face possessed and left a lingering peck upon it. Knowing him, you’d expected him to grip your waist and pull you down with him into the waters of his joyous yet yearning ways but the coal haired boy enveloped you in an enticing embrace and with his lips hovering slightly above your ear, whispered, “Tell him to get ready.”

“I swear to God, I hate basketball,” your brother exhaled out in utter annoyance, to which you furrowed your brows at.

You always shifted in your seat restlessly, your heart palpitating at an ungodly speed of McQueen, eyes sought frantically to avoid meeting your brother’s, upon the dreaded word of “basketball” ringing in your ears. It wasn’t that you abhorred it, no, not at all; you absolutely appreciated the art of dunking and the pleasing note of swish through the hoop, but just not the people you knew personally who partook in it.

There’s always a Montague and Capulet narrative happening somewhere in the universe, always, and it just so happened that you were struck with the curse by some godforsaken entity of destiny of landing a role in your life as the fresh faced, ever so naive, youngest member of the Capulets–Juliet. And you dreaded the direction your supposed fairytale was headed the first time your boyfriend asked you to watch his basketball game, which oddly enough, was the same one your brother requested you to “bring all your hot friends” to.

As strange as it sounded, it wasn’t your brother’s undeniable libido for your friends that irked you and made you hesitate going to a basketball game, to which you’ve never thought twice about before, but it was the statement of, “God I am going to crush number 10’s ass.”

Number 10. Number fucking 10. Of course, it had to be the player that sweat through blue polyester and nylon, donning number 10 in white on the front and back. It could have been player number 13 or 17, for God’s sake it could have even been a negative number sported on the jersey, yet it all had to align in the cosmos to be player number 10.

You didn’t certainly deem ESP to be something legitimate, but on that day you swore to god your mind fucked you royally in the ass and placed you in Soonyoung’s dorm room the night before. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really, nothing but the sight of a teenage boy’s niche, because a lot of basketball players had to have chosen the number 10 for their jersey, right?

The environment malfunctioned instantaneously with the repetition of “I am going to crush number 10’s ass” circling about a short circuit in your mind. From that moment onward, the sight of the jersey was unquestionably more radiant that it could have ever been, with the blinding, white number ten atop Soonyoung’s chair cackling obstreperously at your oh shit moment. Tuning in to your brother slander your university’s rival, Soonyoung’s school, was always such a joy (not) to participate in.

Every “basketball” here and there snagged you by the ear and dragged you to hell and back with it, provoking the cracks of your palm to drench in sweat and legs to quiver more than you had felt around Soonyoung before dating him.

“Yeah I mean it’s not like you’ve worked your entire ass off the past 4 years or so to even set foot on the college court you've been dreaming of since you were 13!” Diverting your brother’s mental debate on his love of the sport, it was a necessity to pluck something else from thin air to talk about, and not your school’s rival when they had games against each other, which was seemingly a bloodbath in their perspective.

Trying to escape your brother’s trash talk of Soonyoung’s team was walking through an eternal, pitch black, underground tunnel, no goddamn escape.

“They only got us last time because of number 10’s foolery. Jesus Christ, the kid better slow down or he’s wasting stamina. Can’t believe he holds the title of captain, like me. I motherfucking swear to God if I have to listen to his loud ass winning chant–” yadah yadah, number 10 this, number 10 that.

You would have dozed off to your brother’s lovely lullaby of scorn towards your boyfriend had it not been for a text…from your boyfriend.

[spoonyoung]

hii hiiiii heyyyy hello bby Hhhii babe i miss youuuuu hi!

[y/n]

i can tell u’re tired :( don’t be

[spoonyoung]

he's going to crush me dang flabbit

y/n

so ur nervous ??? bby it’s just a game istg,,both of you treat it like warfare

[incoming call: spoonyoung]

Shit, what the hell? This bitch, right now? In this economy, at this time?

Inside your chest was a drumline pounding, giving it their all, threatening to burst out and announce to your brother that “Hey, your rival is dating your sister! They’re probably going to fuck later but you don’t know about any of it!”

You would plummet into poignancy if you didn’t pick up his call, because there was no chance you could see him everyday, so honestly fuck that you guys attended different schools, and resorting to calling each other did bring both of you to ease, but not at this goddamn, forsaken time, with one you love phoning you with 17,000 vibrations per second, and the other idiot you were practically forced to love, perched next to you, indignantly gripping the wheel with such force you couldn’t decide which one generated more turbulence within you.

Tensely clutching what was now a scorching piece of metal, you held it up conscientiously to your ear, and forced yourself to breathe out calmly and collectively. Every single mention, tidbit and strand, bob and fragment of Soonyoung that was mentioned around you when you were with your brother grabbed your trachea in its firm hold and forced the wind out of you.

“Hey, Hoshi,” you managed to choke out in a level headed manner.

Hoshi. That was what you and Soonyoung agreed to nickname him if you ever picked up a call from him around your brother or his teammates, but god forbid you were actually allowed to have a life of any sort!

“Babe,” Soonyoung mewled out from the other line, “I actually can’t do this. Don’t tell him, but your brother is really good...of course he is.”

Frowning because of Soonyoung’s lack of usual mirth and brimming confidence, you sighed, “If you let it get to you, then your thoughts affect your actions, and you don’t want that to happen right? You’ll be fine...and I’m not just saying this to say something, but you’re really good too, and you can’t let one person bring your entire mood down...even if...you know…”

“Will you at least come with me to my dorm after the game?”

“Oh you know I’ll be doing more than that,” giggling into your phone, trying to sound as enticing as possible, completely engrossed in this very conversation, as it was all the time talking with Soonyoung.

Both of you had a habit of drastically turning your talks from upside downs to those of obvious elation. They were conversations sometimes needed to be kept in the comforting privacy, selfishly not wanting to let anyone else in on the baby i missed you’s and the do you need anything from the boba shop’s and literally you don’t have the right to look this good’s.

Startled by the grunting and hacking oh so wonderfully expired by the total jackass to your left, you contended to the third degree, with the patience that was never really there starting to thin out, “Do you need something?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Soonyoung to call coincidentally at the times you were with—more like right next to—his rival, probably because his

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #hoshi #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung scenarios #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #hoshi fluff

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minheeology · 4 years

Text

cravity reaction ➳ your first big fight.

requested? : yes!

pairing : cravity x neutral!reader

genre : angst.

warnings : angst, mild cursing.

word count : 3.1k

a/n : i got a little carried away on the angst, but i made sure at least one of them had a cute ending. i hope you enjoy!

serim

when you chose to date serim, you knew you were taking a big risk. the two of you were constantly busy in your own ways, meaning you wouldn’t have much time to see each other. to make up for being away, you two would facetime every night or simply just text until one of you fell asleep. however, you missed being in serim’s arms more than anything. and so, with a heavy heart, you asked serim to come see you that night once he got out of practice. of course, he agreed, and show up later that night. what he was expecting was a serious conversation with you.

“hey, can we talk? i wanted to do this in person.” you started and watched as he nodded and took a seat beside you.

“of course.. what’s wrong?”

“i know we said that we could make it through anything, but being away from you has been really hard. i know you have a job to do, but it isn’t easy to be away from you all the time. i thought i could handle it, but i can’t.. i feel like it isn’t fair to you since you handle it fine.. i don’t want to be the clingy one in the relationship who feels like i can’t live without you..” you took a deep breath before going to speak again, but serim cut you off,

“what are you saying? you think i don’t miss you? i miss you all the time. you’re always on my mind.. i hold back from telling you these things because i always get scared you won’t miss me as much-”

“you think i don’t miss you?” you repeated his words back to him, “did i not just say that i miss you? i miss watching movies with you, and baking cookies for every holiday. i miss just being with you.. but this.. this is not what i meant when i said we could do this.. it thought it’d be easier than this!” your voice broke at the end and you watched as serim’s expression changed.

“y/n..” he spoke slowly, “let’s think about this and talk it out later, okay? we’re both letting our emotions get the better of us..”

you knew he was trying to be civil, he always tried to be during conflicts, but it wasn’t easy when he was right. your emotions got in the way of a lot of things that you did, it was one of the things he loved most about you. but right now you could tell it was hurting him.

“i think you need to go serim..”

“yeah.. i think i should.” his voice trailed off before he got up and made his way towards the door, not wanting to fuel the fire anymore, “goodnight.”

allen

allen was always a happy-go-lucky person. it was something you envied about him. luckily for you, he was your boyfriend, and he was always there to put you in a better mood. but right now, he was doing anything but that.

allen had invited you to come hang out with him and his friends, and you gladly accepted the offer. you wanted to meet the people that allen had spoken so highly about. the entire ride there, allen was telling stories about things that he and his friends had done, and you had to admit, they did sound like a lot of fun. this made you more excited to meet them.

unfortunately for you, the people allen had described to you were not the same people you met. the kind people he had told you about were nowhere to be found as they started to make crude and inappropriate jokes. of course, allen was telling them to cut it out and tone it down, but that was the most that he did. eventually, you were sick of the jokes and decided to ask allen to leave,

“what? no way, you said you wanted to meet them for the longest time.. can’t you just stay a little longer?” he begged, talking loudly over the music that was playing.

“no, allen, i’m not comfortable here! these people are not the same ones you told me about..” you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder.

“they are too the people i told you about! this is how they always are.. why can’t you give them a chance? i’ll tell them to stop.” he tried to reason with you, knowing he wasn’t doing a very good job.

“i did give them a chance.. and they should have listened to you the first time you asked them to stop.. if these are the people you hang out with, then i don’t know you at all! you can stay, but i’m going home..” you spun around to leave, hearing allen calling after you.

allen knew he should have stopped you, but he valued both you and his friends and didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. though, it was clear now that he did hurt someone’s feelings, and they were yours.

jungmo

you and jungmo had started dating a few months before christmas, and your family had decided to throw a party this year. they told you to bring jungmo so he could get to know the family, and you happily agreed. jungmo was over the moon excited to meet your family, no indication of being nervous on his face. no matter how many times you asked him about being nervous, he said he wasn’t worried.

this rang true when you got to your parents’ house. jungmo held conversations with everyone he ran into, each one flowing effortlessly. since he was getting on with people so well, you decided you could leave him on his own while you went and greeted people in your own way.

you had only been away from jungmo for a few minutes when you heard his laugh, along with many others, ring through the room. making your way over, you wanted to see what everyone was laughing about. what you didn’t expect was for you to be the butt of the joke.

“i know, i mean, i told y/n their shirt wasn’t that cute but-..” jungmo fell silent upon seeing you in the group surrounding him.

“what?” you spoke angrily, “you told me this was your favorite shirt of mine.”

“i’m just making conversation! it’s a joke.” he explained but you were having none of it.

“no, jungmo, the joke was me bringing you here.” you stormed away, leaving the once cheerful room in silence.

he followed behind you, catching you when you were standing alone on the back deck. he stared at you for a few minutes, trying to find the words to say. you took notice, and decided to spare him his words,

“i bring you to meet my family and you completely embarrass me. that’s humiliating, you know. they probably think i let you walk all over me now! today was not supposed to go like this, i mean, how am i supposed to trust you? do you talk shit behind my back every time i leave you alone?”

“no! no, i don’t.. please understand, i was just trying to make people laugh- i know i shouldn’t have joked about you but someone brought up your shirt and i just agreed without thinking! you have to believe me. i’m sorry..” he was tripping over his own words at this point just trying to make you understand.

“i can’t forgive you right now.. i just need time.” you spoke quietly, “i need time to think. can you just.. go somewhere else?”

jungmo nodded and ducked back inside, his heart feeling heavy as he realized now how badly he had messed up.

woobin

you came home after a long day of work, just wanting to go to sleep. upon walking in the door, you heard noise from the kitchen. thinking nothing of it, you went to your bedroom and changed into pajamas before climbing into bed. once your head hit the pillow, you fell asleep almost right away. your slumber only lasted about an hour though, since you woke up to your boyfriend, woobin, shaking you awake. you went to yell at him for waking you, but the look on his face had you feeling concerned.

“what’s wrong? is something happening?” you asked as you sat up, wiping your eyes.

“are you forgetting something?” he raised an eyebrow at you, causing you to start racking your brain.

after several seconds of you saying nothing, woobin scoffed, “today is our anniversary.. i spent all day cooking a meal for when you came home, but instead you walked into our bedroom without and word and fell asleep.”

realization hit you and your words started pouring out, “baby, i am so sorry, i was just so tired from work.. i had a terrible day, my boss was being a bitch.. you know how it is, and things are hard-”

“you think i’m not tired? i was working all day too. i worked ten times harder so i could get done early and come home to surprise you with a meal.. are you even going to say thank you?” he tilted his head, waiting for you to say something.

“of course i’m thankful, but you don’t have to get so mad at me! people forget things all the time! i messed up, what else do you want me to say?”

woobin took a deep breath. he knew he was overreacting, but he couldn’t help but think you were being selfish. he started thinking carefully about his words before opening his mouth to speak again.

“dinner is in the microwave. your favorite.. if it’s cold, warm it up for two minutes.” he mumbled before walking out of the bedroom and into his office, where he slammed the door behind him. he figured it was better to cool off before seeing you again.

wonjin

it started off as a joke. you and wonjin had been taking playful jabs at each other all night, all in good fun. although, after a while, it was less about fun and teetering on the edge of insulting each other.

“i hate that you don’t wash the dishes.”

“i hate that you never want to do the laundry.”

“yeah? well i hate your nagging. it’s annoying.” wonjin’s last statement seemed to be the final straw for you.

“if i’m so annoying then play this game by yourself.” you stood up, not knowing why it was this of all things that got you riled up.

“baby, wait.. i didn’t mean to call you annoying, it just..”

“slipped out?” you cut him off, “things that slip out are still things you were thinking about.”

wonjin looked guilty. the small smirk that was once on his face had disappeared, a frown in its place. he didn’t say anything for a few minutes. neither of you did. you didn’t know how you ended up in this position when it all started as a little game. the silence was unbearable, so you opted for leaving the living room and sitting in the bedroom. moments after leaving the room, you heard the familiar calling sound of facetime, and moments later, you heard serim’s voice faintly.

“i messed up.. i really messed up,” wonjin started to talk, explaining the situation to serim. you decided not to listen, putting on some music to drown them out so you didn’t have to think about everything right in that moment.

minhee

in private, minhee was all for kisses and cuddles. around his friends, he was a whole new person. you were lucky if he would even hold your hand when his friends were around. you didn’t mind though, you knew he wanted to keep a certain image around his friends for whatever reason. as dumb as you thought it was, you respected his wishes.

one day, minhee came home while you were working on homework. running out to greet him, you failed to notice his friends behind him as you pulled him into your embrace.

“hi baby, how was your..” you paused once you noticed his friends looking at the two of you.

“baby?” one of minhee’s friends laughed, “i didn’t think you’d be one of those people, dude.”

minhee looked down at you with an unreadable expression as you pulled away from him. neither of you said anything to each other, minhee only spoke to his friends.

“today isn’t a good day.. i think you guys should go home, alright?” he mumbled and watched as his friends left as quickly as they had arrived.

once they had disappeared out the door, minhee turned to you once again.

“are you serious? you knew they were supposed to come over today! god, do you even listen to the things i tell you? do i even matter to you?” he exploded, his eyebrows furrowed.

“i-i forgot! how am i supposed to remember everything? i was so caught up in my homework that i was excited to see you! for a distraction! and if course i listen to you, and of course you matter! i’m just having an off day!” your explanation seemed to mean nothing to minhee as he walked past you.

“you’re not seriously mad, are you?” you followed behind him, grabbing his hand to make him look at you, “can we talk about this?”

“not right now, okay? i need to think..” he said calmly which, to be honest, was more concerning then when he was yelling.

you didn’t question him any further, watching as he disappeared into the kitchen.

hyeongjun

walking into class early in the morning, the last thing you expected was to see your boyfriend, hyeongjun, flirting with somebody else. someone had taken your usual seat beside your boyfriend and was laughing over-dramatically at things he was saying. your classmates looked at you in confusion, wondering why you weren’t saying anything. however, deep down, you hoped that hyeongjun would ask the person beside him to leave, but it was clear that he wouldn’t be doing that any time soon. rather than causing a scene, you sat beside your best friend minhee, who happened to be sitting right in front of hyeongjun.

“y/n?” you heard hyeongjun behind you, but instead continued a conversation with minhee about the homework from last night.

after a whole class of avoiding hyeongjun, he finally caught up to you in the halls.

“what?” you asked, “wouldn’t you rather go walk with your new seatmate?”

“what? no! what are you talking about? i was just being nice to them.” he pleaded, “i didn’t want to be mean by telling them to move away..”

“well it didn’t look like you wanted them to leave anyways.” you kept up the wall you had built, “i have to go. minhee and i have to use this study period to work on our project..”

“can we talk about it after school, then? please? i hate when you’re upset with me.” he kept trying as you walked away, a frown on his lips when you didn’t reply to him.

taeyoung

it was your birthday and taeyoung was finally coming to see you after a long time of being apart. he had taken this day off specifically to see you, and was supposed to be on his way any minute.

minutes turned into hours and soon it was almost 10pm. taeyoung was supposed to be at your apartment seven hours ago. feeling defeated, you pulled your phone out and texted taeyoung to ask if he was ever going to show up.

↳ to taeyoung : are our plans still on?

after sending the text, you had decided to change into pajamas since you figured taeyoung was probably not coming. it broke your heart to think that he would have forgotten your birthday, but you knew that he was busy now that he was an idol. however, this didn’t stop the anger from bubbling up in your chest. it boiled over when you heard your doorbell ring at a quarter to eleven. when you opened the door, taeyoung was standing there. he opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t want to hear it.

“where were you? what were you doing all day? no calls, no texts, nothing. what could you have possibly been up to?” you interrogated him right away, not even moving to let him inside yet.

“i got called in for an emergency meeting and i got so caught up that i.. forgot! i forgot, okay? jungmo asked if i wanted to go shopping and i said yes.. so i lost track of time..”

“we’ve had this planned for months! you promised you’d be here. you’ve never broken a promise before, so why now?” you watched his face drop.

“i’m sorry..” he pulled the flowers he had for you out from behind his back, “will you at least take these?”

taking the flowers, you nodded your head, “you can come in, but it’s not going to be very fun.”

taeyoung loved you too much to just leave, so he took your invitation to come in, even if it meant you wouldn’t look at him almost the whole time.

seongmin

you and seongmin had just finished your homework and were now standing in front of the tv in your living room. you two had decided to play just dance, which might not have been the best idea on your part considering he was a professional dancer. nonetheless, you decided to go along with your plan to play. you played song after song, but you never even came close to beating seongmin. that was until your final song, when you were finally in the lead. right as you were about to win, you felt seongmin’s arm hit yours, making you miss the move. ultimately, you lost the round in the last few seconds. seongmin cheered in victory as you plopped down on the couch with a frown on your face. seongmin looked at you, his happy expression changing to match yours.

“what’s wrong? are you okay?” he asked, sitting beside you.

“i’m fine.” you shrugged.

“don’t be a sore loser, y/n! i’ll let you win the next one!” he tried to cheer you up, clearly not understanding why you were upset in the first place.

“i would have won if you didn’t hit my arm!” you pouted at him, “i was so excited and now it isn’t fun anymore..”

“come on,” he whined, “i didn’t mean it! i’ll even buy you ice cream!”

“and a cookie?”

“and a cookie,” he chuckled, “come on.”

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 3 years

Text

It’s The Avengers (03x13)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 13: That One Stranger

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: eep sorry

Word Count: last weekend was a blast!! My cousins, my brother’s best friend, all of us gathered and karaoked while drunk. Bro’s bestie even brought dad in for a song and two and broke a few glasses coz he was THAT drunk. Poor dude even apologised for that.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The camera was coloured in darkness when it heard a troubled and tired whine. It took a second or two to come out of someone's backpack- quite possibly Javier's- to record you nearly lying over a rhino-like alien with a dinosaur-like tail. Your eyes looked sad and frustrated, your limbs tired- hanging on either side of the slow creature carrying on its own pace. A scarf was thrown over your head that ended up covering your face, making the camera shift towards the tall figure of Loki walking beside the new transportation service. His figure- with the usual black jeans and equally black shirt- was covered in a cloak that protected him from the harsh rays of the neighbouring star. "They're gone. Stop whining," he ordered without even looking at you. "The only breathing insane person you need is me."

Lulu, who was sitting over your back now, was enjoying the languid bumpy ride through the desert that was filled with little crowds around the oasis -found around every two kilometres- while his camera recorded Javier sitting on his rhino facing you guys. You pulled the scarf away from your face and pouted, letting your face rest in your palms. "But they are all so cute." A blink later you turned your eyes towards Loki and smirked. "OoooOoooh!-" you deepened your voice- "'The only breathing insane person you need is me'-" and then squirmed out loud- "you naughty-naughty. You teasing me. You naughty-naughty!" Loki turned to face you, his steps so in sync that he was right next to your face the whole time his eyes kept yours captured. "What exactly is it that made my words tease you, darling?" All the playful giggle vanished as soon as it had come. You felt your body straighten at that smirk running wild over his lips while Javier's camera caught the change in the shade of your face.

You: *annoyed* You have to be really careful how you go about joking around with Loki 'cause that son of a bitch can turn anything into something sexual. *looks at the camera* *feels a shiver go down your body*

Loki: It is *stresses* so easy to make Y/N uncomfortable. All I have to do is make her think I am thinking something impermissible and then sit back to watch her fumble. *chuckles* It's one of my many talents. *feels a confidence boost*

"You are so annoying sometimes," you muttered under your breath while scratching an itch on the back of your neck. "Sometimes I forget you get a high out of making people miserable." "Oh, no. The high is solely out of annoying you," Loki pointed out innocently. Grabbing one end of the scarf, you flipped it in the air to smack Loki's back with it. "You do not deserve any of the lava cakes I make in the future!" "Thank the Norns. They kept giving me the worst pains." "You sonova-" Another flick of your scarf was easily caught by the God to pull you towards him. You nearly fell on his chest if not for your hands landing on those pecs first.

You: *mouth opened in an 'o'* *blinks slowly* I think I grabbed his boobies. *purses lips* *thinks for a long moment* *camera pans in* *raises brows* those are some really hard boobies.

"What." Even when you were sitting on the rhino- who came to a standstill on its own at the moment, clearly sensing some heat in the moment- Loki did not have to bend his beck even a smidge to stare right into your soul. "What," you spat back a bit hesitantly, trying your best to fume, taking your hands away from his body to hide them somewhere before they were executed for their crimes. "You are being quite bold these days," he commented while wrapping the scarf around his hand, never letting his gaze falter. "I was always bold-" you shrugged- "especially when it came to anything that had to do with you." Loki chuckled. And licked his lips. The camera caught the one strong inhale you took in. "What did you expect would happen in the long run? That I would go all soft and mushy on you like those fangirls you have on earth? Stand outside your home and shout-" "Loki?" The voice wasn't yours. You could never carry that kind of sultry weight in your throat even if you wanted to. It felt like it had come with the wind. Or maybe an echo? It wasn't until you looked at Javier's camera that you looked behind you and found a woman dressed in red standing within inches of you, giving you a mini heart attack, leading to one great fall. Loki could have broken your fall if he wanted to but from the look in his eyes, he was stuck on the woman he was seeing standing a few feet away from him. Lulu's camera caught this woman perfectly. From every angle, she looked human. Her pale skin was akin to a glass moulded in the shape of a Goddess. Her thin lips were coloured a shade of purple. Her eyes a shade of blue that was darker than usual. They were less of an ocean and more of a pool hidden in the caverns that were bottomless and unexplorable. A red cloak covered her head- except for a few strands of silver hair- and the rest of her body. It was not hard to miss for the cameras recording a couple of things that happened in a little span of time; like the slipping of your scarf from Loki's hands, the rhinos excusing themselves from the scene, the nervous fluffing up of Lulu at the sight of this stranger, the sudden chill in the air in the middle of the desert making the animals- and you- shiver. On top of that, the piercing rays of the nearest star seemed to get dull by the second till the camera realised there were clouds gathering above them out of bloody nowhere.

"Is that really you? Loki...son of Odin...and son of Laufey?" "It's Freya," you whispered, internally correcting this stranger who was visibly making you quite uncomfortable. "It has been a while." She completely ignored you if she heard that. Her smile seemed to stretch from one ear to another at the sight of the God- who was evidently the only thing she wanted to see. "Aellae." It was not the name itself that produced the moment but the way it came out to make you turn towards Loki.

You: *frown at the void* It was almost like he was recalling something he had...lost. Like that one book that you repeatedly read and then it just disappeared one day only for you to find out that you had yourself kept it in an ultimate secret place that you yourself forgot about. So, when you find it you feel guilty for facing it again. *breathless* *camera pans in* *looks at Javier* does this make sense? *blinks at Javier who is signing something* *frowns harder* What do you mean why it's gotten me all worked up? I mean *stutters and points in the distance* *camera pans in Loki and Aellae standing in the distance looking at each other and not really talking much* W-who knows what's the history there. Like is she a friend or foe? Or a fr-o. *camera pans back on your face* *tsks* of course, this doesn't make sense. None of this does. *looks at the pair and crosses her arms* *fumes at no one in particular*

"I thought I-" "Lost me?" Aellae simply smiled. "You should know better than that. After all, it is me, my love." There was no hesitation in the movement of your eyes when you looked at Loki for an answer to that statement. If it wasn't for the brilliant observation of this talented boy named Javier, one would not have caught the slight movement of his eyes when he wanted to glance at you from his peripheral vision while taking in a lungful. "My love," you stressed that last word to make sure Loki understood the question scratching beneath the sarcasm. There was a slight roll of his eyes followed by him completely closing them for one elongated moment. "I have been waiting for this day," Aellae continued, making a part of you itch for completely ignoring your presence, "when I finally found you again." The tilt of her head and that hollow gaze that tried to be soft gave her an eerie touch. "And to think I was only living on your memories till now." Aellae took a step forward and stopped when she found the God taking the lead with this one. In this situation, the angle mattered a lot. Because from where Lulu stood- right on your shoulder- it looked as if this stranger had taken a step where could she step right where the distance between her and you two was the same. From where Javier stood, his camera saw Loki step towards Aellae while completely blocking you from the boy's view. But what he did record was Loki bringing forward his hands for her. That hollowness in her eyes suddenly swirled into an ounce of mild ecstasy. when she put her hands in his and felt his thumbs rest on top of the back of her palms. "It has been one long while," he concluded, forcing Javier to walk- with quite the struggle- in the sand to pan in on this confusion fused with this piercing hint of disappointment on your face.

"I'm sorry," you sputtered, "come again?" "Title of your sex tape," he muttered under his breath. "Hm?" Aellae turned in question. "Nothing, my dearest," the God assured her before turning to answer your question. "I said you are on your own now. Look for a cavern at one of the oasis and they will drop you at a shelter. Hopefully." Your head did feel the just of surprise even though the last twenty seconds of their hand-holding had you all ready for a surprise. Words were being a stubborn bitch in your lungs- never escaping your mouth right this moment and all your could do was exhale and mock a burst of laughter at those words. "And then? And then what?" Your heated brain really could not think of anything else. Loki shrugged.

You: *shouting* THAT SON OF A BITCH SHRUGGED!!! *pointing at yourself* AT ME!!!

"I don't know. Look for a rainbow." Without another word, he turned back towards the woman. Just like that. The only sound was that of the wind running through the desert as you, Javier and Lulu watched Loki walk away with this strange creature. It took a minute for the little one figure out, for when he did, he pressed his stomach and stood up on your shoulder, his heart beating faster than it usually did. And when the realisation dawned on him, Lulu jumped to the ground to take a few steps in Loki's direction and yell for him to come back.

'Member the way You used to say I was your meaning? You'd always need me

You just stood there, dried lips parted, eyes shrinking under the gaze of the star, arms dangling with nearly no life in them. For a second there, Javier felt you were about to fall, for Lulu's camera caught the boy come to your side, ready for anything that was bound to happen.

Did you forget What that shit meant? You were my answer You were what mattered

But all you did was stand there with disappearing emotions just like those two disappeared with the last sand dune in front of you. With the last silhouette of Loki gone in sand, you closed your eyes, worrying your companions for that stretched moment.

Lived at your place Know the way that I taste Yeah, you know things Yeah, you know things

"He knows," you whispered to yourself, your brows furrowing together, your fingers curling into fists.

I met your mom Even got us a dog That ain't nothing, oh

A piercing scream came out of your lungs making the little floof jump five feet into the air to land away from you while Javier's camera recorded his three-second jolts before falling straight down from his hands.

Say you know me Say you know me Say you know me, know Say you know me Say you know me Say you know me

"HE FUCKING KNOWS!!!!" Your voice was at the edge of a massive breakdown, shaking while your eyes blurred themselves in this uncontrollable rage.

You always will

"That son of a bitch knows how bad it is for me alone in a strange land," you croaked, trying to kick some sand with your boots. Javier signed something from outside the frame to you. "Hey, you're not alone. I'm here too," Lulu's camera caught his words. You looked at him for five seconds. "You lost your socks while sleeping on your first day. You were wearing those bloody socks." Javier- clearly offended but also guilty- mocked a gasp as he took a few steps away from you. The soft strings of guitar added to the air around you looking in the distance where nothing could be seen now. No one. Sand for infinity and a few oases that did not lead to him.

Feet were dragged through the stubborn sand that let won't you walk straight. All the effort that was going into being angry was now running down towards your legs. But that did not stop you from fuming so hard that the camera could catch the difference in your features.

See, I know What it is, what it is, what it is, babe

But as the camera panned over your face, it seemed more of a sullen sulk and less of that rage you had just shown.

See, I know What it is, what it is

And were those tears in your eyes that you were trying to blink away? That you were trying to hide from Javier as much as possible?

Let me miss What it is, what it is, what it isn't Let me miss it Let me miss it

Giving up, you walked towards the first oasis in your way, populated generously by desert animals and a few nomads. The tents seemed somewhat similar to those you found on earth except for the spherical air pockets surrounding them to keep them cool. One of the nomads was kind enough to open the doorway for you and bow down in their own way, making the rainbow stone in his necklace reflect the starlight right into your eyes as you entered the place. "Did some order a seven-spice rainbow with a generous dash of sexy on the side?" The light that has just left your eyes came back with a sweet gasp. "My White Knight!" you nearly choked on your own joy. .

The camera felt itself shake when the rainbow drink was kept on the table. Thanking White, you dragged the sparkly fizzy thing towards you to get a taste. "So-" White furrowed his brows licked his lips in a thought- "you're saying Loki did leave you but he did not leave you." You just nodded, your lips not ready to leave the straw. "Easy," White ordered with a serious face, receiving a pinch from Green and Orange sitting next to him without looking away from you. Both of them seemed to be caught in a sweet trance that was clearly you. And when you finally did leave the straw, the elated sigh of a content throat made both of them close their eyes and smile. "Oh, God! This is so goooood," you exclaimed as no voice came out of you. "Y/N," your White Knight called out to you, "focus." You set the drink down and straighten yourself. "Yes, sir," you whispered. "Not that much of focus," he muttered while clearing his throat, adjusting himself where he sat. Violet rolled his eyes and sighed. "What do you mean when you say he did not leave you?" You looked at Violet and put your hands on the table. "I mean that I don't think he went with that woman....goddess...witch...whatever...on his own. I think he was kinda kidnapped." All the boys- except Orange- shared a look with each other. Orange was just too engrossed in you at this point. "Are you sure he just didn't go on his own?" Green stressed. "He would be one dumb bitch to leave me alone like that," you nearly shouted before going for that unicorn juice again. "There must've been a reason." Orange nodded vigorously in agreement. "Very dumb bitch," he tsked. "Because he knows I will kill him if he did-" you sipped the cold fizz- "and if I didn't, our family definitely will." The camera panned in the emotion of slight disbelief White felt as his eyes remained hollow while that smile was still stuck on his face. It took him a few seconds to bring himself to mutter, "our...family," and scratch an itch on his neck. "So," you burped and excused yourself, "before anyone from my home flies here just to kill him, I am going to rescue him." "Whaaa-at?" Sky mutters from behind the bar counter. "Help you go after some strange and powerful witch that we have absolutely no idea about?" Javier's camera- which Javier had in his hand as he stood right behind Sky- recorded the endless stash of weapons and potions kept behind the bar right there within Sky's reach. The camera especially zoomed in on the one bundle of spears marked 'Witch skewers: Do not wash, Do not touch. Poisonous'. "And that too on such a short notice?" Sky faked a laugh.

Sky: *tired* Of course we know Loki's been kidnapped. White: *casually* Of course, we'll help Y/N. Violet: *stone face* I'm down to hunt some bad girls any day. White: *sighs* I really wish we could leave him with his kidnapper though. *pause* *everyone mumbles in agreement* *silence resumes around the table* Orange: *thinking while looking at the void* but that would make Y/N sad. *nods and pouts around the table* Red: Once we rescue him, let's kidnap Y/N. *hums of agreement around the table*

"Okay-" you place the empty glass on the table and get up to look around the table before looking into Javier's camera, "let's go save a God today."

#loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki fanfic #loki series #loki imagine #loki fluff #loki smut #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #marvel fluff #loki #It's The Avengers #fluff #smut #fanfic #fanfiction

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hoebii · 3 years

Text

Birthday Bash

Pairing : Squirrel hybrid!Kim Seokjin x Fox hybrid!Kim Taehyung (MXM)

Genre : Fluff, hybrid!au, established relationship

Rating : PG13

Warnings : Swearing

Wc : 1.6k

A/N : Okay before all, thank you @taegularities and @kassrole for being my beta, you guys are the best <3 Second- HAPPY BIRTHDAY @aroseforyoongi HOPE YOU HAVE A BLAST AND THIS YEAR TREATS YOU LIKE THE QUEEN YOU ARE <333 I hope you like my present for you~ Thank you for being so nice and welcoming all the time, you’re the best <3 OH I COMPLETELY FORGOT - I got the ‘We were supposed to bring the cake for our mutual friend’s birthday party but we got in a fight over who should carry it to the car and now the cake is on the floor and HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM!’ prompt from @creativepromtsforwriting !!

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

Taehyung was in the middle of a meeting when his phone buzzed. His ears twitched at the low buzzing- he had initially decided to ignore it till after the meeting was over. But with how much it was vibrating, he sighed in mild annoyance before taking his phone out as discreetly as he could to not alert anyone else.

His annoyance got replaced with curiosity when he saw it was a new group chat named ‘SURPRISE BITCHES’. Clicking open the chat box, Taehyung almost snorted at what was on his screen, alerting the others but he paid no mind to the questioning gazes.

~Jinnie created group~

~Jinnie named the group ‘SURPRISE BITCHES’~

Jinnie : THIS IS A GROUP CHAT FOR ALL YOU BRATS TO PLAN A SURPRISE PARTY FOR MY BIRTHDAY

Jinnie : Make sure it’s AMAJIN *laughing sticker*

~Jinnie has left the chat~

Kook : ...what just happened

Park Brat : We have to plan a party for hyung now, I guess?

Kook : Yeah, no shit shorty but wth was that o.O

The rest of the chat had transformed into the two arguing with each other. Taehyung put his phone down and leaned back into his chair, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. He was surrounded by children. Absolute children.

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

After the meeting had ended, Taehyung was walking back to his office when his phone rang, playing a sound akin to... Spongebob’s laugh? Taehyung’s ears stood straight on alert as he checked his screen, eyebrows raised in surprise at the odd tone - someone had changed his ringtone again.

Seeing it was a call from none other than the soon-to-be 29 years old, Kim Seokjin, he picked up the phone with a sigh, “What’s up, hyung?”

“Did you see the group?”

“Hello to you, too, I haven’t had lunch yet, have you? My day has been pretty busy, thanks for asking,” Taehyung started, completely ignoring what the older man had asked, snickering when he started scolding Taehyung on the other side.

“Stop being a brat! Did you see the group I made?” Jin whined. Taehyung could almost imagine Jin’s furrowed brows as he paced around wherever he was.

“Yes hyung, I saw the group you made,” Taehyung finally answered, smiling softly when he heard a happy gasp come from the excitable squirrel hybrid.

“So?”

“So what?” he asked, trying to keep a neutral face while passing by employees when he heard a grunt on the other line.

“So, what did you plan? What are you getting me?”

“I thought it was supposed to be a surprise?”

“Yeah but I want to know!”

“Oh well, if you really want to know,” Taehyung started, humming as if in deep thought, “we haven’t planned a single thing.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“When have I ever joked around? I am the most serious person you can ever meet,” he announced dramatically, stepping into his office and closing the door behind.

“You’re no fun, I’m calling Namjoon.” Jin huffed before hanging up, giving the other man no time to reply.

Taehyung laughed to himself, deciding to call the group to check on the plan, given they had made any rather than arguing like before. Taehyung would have their head if they didn’t make this the best birthday for Jin.

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

It was the day of the party. Everyone had arrived at the venue, Taehyung noted as he scanned the place - except two people. The two who were in charge of the cake.

He was about to call one of them when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Taking out the device, he instantly picked up the call when he saw the caller ID being displayed as ‘Kook’.

“Where are you two?! Hoseok and Yoongi hyung are gonna bring Jin here any minute! Even Namjoon hyung has arrived!”

“Okay, don’t get mad…” Jungkook started after Taehyung finished his rant, “we sort of have a problem.”

“What problem?”

“Well, you see. Uh. Well. Listen, don’t be mad,” the bunny hybrid stuttered, causing Taehyung’s concern to rise tenfold.

“Oh give me that,” he heard Jimin say on the line before his voice chimed in, “yeah, hi. I know we were supposed to bring the cake for Jin, but we kinda got in a fight over who should carry it from the car and now the cake is on the floor and HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM!”

Hearing no reply for a moment, Jimin asked, “Tae? You there?”

“You… dropped the cake?”

“Accidentally, yes,” the cat hybrid answered, getting nervous the longer he got no answer. He had thought Taehyung would blow a fuse, but there was no screaming… yet.

“Fix. This.”

“What?”

“Fix the mess you made. Don’t show your face unless you do.”

Jimin raised his brow at his words, “Do you want us to go get another cake? Cause this was a custom one and I don’t think it’s possible to get that so fast.”

“I don’t care, fix it or don’t show up.”

“You serious?”

Taehyung hung up without answering.

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

The party was coming to an end. Jimin and Jungkook had somehow managed to get another cake - albeit not the one Taehyung had wanted, but it was good enough - and he had made up with the two, apologising for his behaviour earlier.

“It’s fine, dude. I’d be worse if I was in your place,” Jungkook had said, patting him on the head while saying so.

“Exactly what Kook said, don’t worry too much, man. Enjoy the party, and do not get cold feet,” Jimin had chimed in after the maknae. Taehyung was grateful to have such amazing friends.

He had been standing at the balcony, sipping on champagne when Jin found him.

“What’s up, babe?” he asked, words laced with concern.

Taehyung sighed, looking down at the drink, “Don’t worry about it. Did you enjoy the party?”

“Don’t change the subject, Tae.”

When Jin got no reply, he sighed, grabbing Taehyung’s face and forcing him to meet his eyes, “The party was amazing. I didn’t expect you people to actually do something when I made the group as a joke. Thank you.”

Staring into Jin’s eyes, Taehyung gulped, nervousness consuming him. He had to do it now or he would cower away again, he decided.

Stepping away, he placed the glass down on the ledge, “I haven’t given you your gift yet.”

“Gift? This party was enough, honey. You didn’t need to- what are you doing?” Jin started, getting interrupted mid-way when the younger man got down on one knee in front of him.

��I don’t want to be your boyfriend anymore,” Taehyung started, pulling out a velvet box.

“Is your gift for me to break up? You didn’t have to get down on your knees for that, you know?” Jin asked, trying to act calm, but Taehyung knew him better.

Snorting at his words, Taehyung squinted his eyes at Jin in warning, “Shut up and let me finish before I back down again.”

“Sorry.”

“When I met you, I never thought we would be together, much less me wanting to spend the rest of my life with you,” Taehyung began his speech, smiling when he saw Jin playfully glare at him, “but you came into my life and made it so much better. I would be a mess without you. I’ve had this ring for months now, never finding the right moment to do it, but now feels as good as any. You always told me to not wait for the right moment and make the moment right, so here I am. Kim Seokjin, will you make me the happiest man alive and-” He was about to finally ask when a clearly drunk Namjoon stumbled onto the balcony.

“There you guys are! Everyone is looking for you two!” he exclaimed, grinning happily at finding his friends, the two barely able to understand what he said.

The smile slipped off of his face when he got no reply, and scanning the scene in front of him, he quickly connected the dots before he was back to smiling happily, his tail wagging furiously and exclaimed, “Oooh Taehyung-ah! Did you propose yet?”

Taehyung stared at him, lips parted in shock, not knowing how to react. His heart sank as the drunk man blubbered on about god knows what. What did he do to deserve this? He wasn’t sure whether he was angry or disappointed at the situation, but what he did know without a doubt, was that he'd teach Namjoon a lesson after this.

Seeing Taehyung deflating each second, Jin pushed Namjoon out of the balcony with a ‘Fuck off, you dumb dog’ - to which he got a very drunk reply of ‘I’m a wolf!’ - before returning to him. Crouching down to be face-to-face with him, Jin smiled reassuringly, taking Taehyung’s hands in his, “Ignore him, baby. Finish what you were saying.”

“The moment’s ruined.”

“I will smack you if you say that again. The moment is not ruined and if you don’t finish what you were saying right now, I will hunt Namjoon down and push you both off of this balcony.”

“Will you say yes if I do?” Taehyung asked, looking like a kicked puppy as he did so.

“You’re gonna have to say it to find out, won’t you?”

Taking a deep breath, he resumed, “Kim Seokjin, will you marry me?”

“No.”

“W-what?” Taehyung sputtered, looking at Jin with wide eyes, heart shattering the longer he got no reply.

Jin laughed, “I’m kidding. Of course I’ll marry you.”

“Yah! You’re so mean, why would you ever do that?!” Taehyung whined, “You can’t just joke around li-”

Jin grabbed Taehyung’s face, cutting him off by pulling him into a sweet kiss. He smiled when he felt the other one kiss back instantly, one hand sliding down to intertwine it with the others’.

Pulling away from the kiss, the two smiled at each other, Taehyung slipping the ring on Jin’s finger.

“Best. Birthday. Ever.”

#thebtswriters #bangtaninn #castlebangtan #blackswannet #kim seokjin #kim taehyung #ksj x kth #bts au #bts fic #hybrid!au #hybrid!seokjin #hybrid!taehyung #v #jin #bts kth #bts ksj #mxm

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serpentinesarang · 4 years

Text

falling for you

pairing: baekhyun (byun baekhyun) x fem reader | part 2

genre: non-idol!au, angel!baekhyun, fluff, slow burn, split-perspective, first- and second-person writing styles, LOTS of plot buildup and dialogue, mild smut mixed in, part of a series

word count: 3831

content warnings: alcohol, swearing, theme of angels, virgin reader, strong theme of voyeurism, reader has gender-neutral best friend, vibrator masturbation

summary: baekhyun, your guardian angel watching over since the day you were conceived, has fallen in love with you and can’t bear to just watch you anymore. he needs so much more.

a/n: partly inspired by the teen romance-fantasy series hush, hush by becca fitzpatrick. #17 on my prompt list ♡

korean key:

⦿ none this time

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

You

It’s your 21st birthday, and a beautiful, late-spring day awaits you. You turn off your alarm, roll out of bed, and drag yourself to the bathroom for a much-needed shower.

Once you flick on the vanity lights above the sink, you stop in your tracks. You know what... today’s my big day. I’m gonna do shit MY way today, you think while eyeing yourself in the mirror.

You exit the bathroom for a moment and retrieve the unopened bottle of Fireball [American cinnamon whiskey] atop your dresser. Your dad had sent you the bottle along with your favorite brand of chocolate and a sweet card, and you’d accidentally received the package one day early (oh well!). Unscrewing the cap, you take a hearty gulp and wince at the delicious burning sensation in your chest.

“Fuck yeah,” you grumble aloud as you replace the bottle and amble back to the bathroom.

You turn the knobs of your glass-encased shower and strip off your pajamas while the water heats up.

Baekhyun

Good gracious. I will never tire of her waking up and taking morning showers. She looks the most ethereal after she sleeps and the most serene with water cascading down every bit of her curvaceous body. The way her nipples grow erect from the pressure of the water and the occasional chills when she reaches out to change the background music playing... her hair slicked back, drawing all my attention to her stunning face...

My darling human has at last become what they call an adult. She is now able to legally enjoy spirits and be merry with friends.

I remember the moment she was conceived and I was assigned as her guardian. I made sure her mother was never in harm’s way during her pregnancy with my darling, and ever since then, she has been my reason for existence. No other human soul before her had ever latched itself so deeply into my being, and I can’t stand the distance anymore.

I sit on her long bathroom counter with my wings comforting my back against the wall and my legs hitched upward, just watching her wake up to another day. The glass walls of the shower have fogged up, but I can easily discern her silhouette swaying side-to-side with the music. She seems to be in an unusually happy mood today, and I plan to make her even happier tonight.

You

You step out and dry yourself off, twisting your hair into a towel turban. You tiptoe in front of the mirror and wipe off the condensation with your forearm. Just then, your cell phone on the counter launches into a FaceTime call, the screen showing your best friend’s name.

Accepting the call audio-only, you greet them cheerily, “Good morning, sexy bitch!”

They chuckle. “Show me your face, coward! I wanna see what my 21-year-old best friend looks like on her birthday!”

You dramatically sigh and oblige your friend, keeping your phone facing the ceiling as you tap your camera on. You tower over the screen at a comical angle that only shows your towel-wrapped head and exposed neck. “Here she is!”

“A knockout as always. I hope you know that,” they reply.

Smiling, you ask, “What’s up?”

“We still good to go out to Fire & Ice tonight? I’m not gonna let you leave until you’re so sloshed that I have to carry you out!”

You laugh at your friend’s excitement. “Yes, I took the whole weekend off, so let the debauchery begin, my friend.”

You talk about your club plans a little more before your friend goes on a long diatribe about their evil stepmother—not really fresh territory at this point. So you carry your phone around while you dress in jeans and a college t-shirt, eventually returning to the bathroom for a quick round of makeup.

Your bestie is still regaling you with their convoluted family drama when you feel yourself zoning out into the mirror. It’s as if all other noises around you have slowly faded away, and the only thing you hear is a voice, seemingly right next to you, whispering with a velvety softness, “You’re beautiful as you are.”

Mesmerized by the voice, you unconsciously sigh out of deep contentedness, and your friend asks if you’re still keeping up. You assure them all is well, except for the fact that you’ve been hearing a comforting voice for the past three years now.

A voice you obey by only putting on mascara.

Baekhyun

I’ve been speaking to her since she turned 18. I always wanted her to know she’s never truly alone, but the problem with my method is that she never fully processes me. She’s always so captivated when I speak to her that it never occurs to her something extraordinary—someone extraordinary—is connecting with her, guiding her, encouraging her. And it doesn’t help that I can’t read her thoughts or impede her free will by planting thoughts. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the wide-looked look of bliss that overcomes her every time she hears me.

She goes about her morning as she usually does on the weekends: sitting on her balcony with a plate of toast, a cup of coffee, and whichever book she borrowed from the public library. This time, it’s Dante’s Divine Comedy.

I love the irony.

You

Two hours of reading pass before you grow restless and retreat back to your room. Flopping in bed, you let your mind wander. You’ve been single for as long as you can remember, and you’ve taken a liking to the clearly male voice you hear every once in a while. If you’re honest with yourself, you’re scared deep down of the reality of such a circumstance, but because the voice has always cared about you, what’s the harm in believing in it?

Remember, you tell yourself, it’s all about you today.

Without any more hesitation, you yank open the drawer of your nightstand and pull out a black wand vibrator. You may be a virgin, but you’re not an idiot who doesn’t know what pleasure is.

Wiggling out of your panties and jeans, you throw them to the floor and spread your legs across the mattress as comfortably as possible.

“Come back to me,” you whisper almost inaudibly.

Baekhyun

Absolutely nothing else on this planet makes me happier than watching my darling pleasure herself. She obtained that vibrating device last year as a gift from her friend, and ever since she discovered this realm of physical pleasure, I’ve fallen harder and faster for her. The salacious things I’ve watched her do to herself, the phenomenal sounds she emits, the positions she lazes into, the glistening of that little slice of heaven on her body... It drives me mad that I have no senses of smell, taste, and touch because I want to experience what she does. And with her.

Today is different. She’s never spoken aloud like that, and the yearning in her voice makes me believe it’s for me.

I rest on my stomach with my chin atop my hands, peering at the slit between her supple legs and how it’s slowly begun to flood as she drags the device up and down, stopping to rub slow circles at the very top. I don’t hear the thing humming, so she must be preparing herself.

She has one arm bent behind her head, her neck angled to watch herself move the device. Her mouth is ajar, and the rising of her chest fascinates me because it falls in tune with the device.

Then she pushes a button, and I hear it buzzing lowly. Not a millisecond later does her breath catch as her hips dig downward, and she closes her eyes. She holds the black thing at the top, over the little mountain of bulbous, pink flesh.

You

Whoever he is, you wish he’d speak to you now as you press the wand against your hardened clit. It’s only set to level one, but you feel your orgasm beginning to build up.

So beautiful like this, you imagine him saying. Keep going. I’m right here, and you’re driving me crazy...

You let out a breathy moan as you activate the wand’s level two vibration intensity, and your thighs shake uncontrollably at the heightened pleasure.

Shake for me, beautiful. Take me to your heaven, your imagination continues. It’s right then, though, that his voice sounds beside your ear for real in a soft tone: Yes, darling, you did it.

After hearing this voice long enough to be able to conjure it in your mind with any array of sinful words, today is the first time it brings you to a time-stopping orgasm.

Baekhyun

Out of nowhere, her hips fly off the bed and surge in random, up and down motions, and I watch the small opening of her slit pulsate in time with her hips as it erupts with a lovely, transluscent essence. I wish I could feel her arousal on my fingertips instead of just watching.

Her voice comes out in broken utterances and ragged moans: “UH-uh-huhhh-ugghhhh... ffffff-UH-uh-uuuck.”

The vibration ceases, and she tosses the device beside her with a heavy exhale, evidently spent. Her legs are still spread, and I can’t help but inch myself closer to observe the way her soaked flesh speaks to me in its language of spontaneous throbbing.

You

The rest of the day passes you by. After you came, you made lunch, went to the gym for a workout, went to the DMV to change your driver’s license, came home and read some more, answered a few work emails, perused social media, ate dinner, and even watched a movie. A typical Saturday for you, nothing particularly special by any means. The real fun would be at 9 PM when your bestie promised to pick you up.

...

You glance at the time on your phone: 8:56 PM. Perfect, a few more minutes to double-check everything.

Phone case on a crossbody chain with your new license and credit card stored inside? Check. House key attached to the chain on a carabiner clip? Check. Hair flat-ironed with minimal frizz and ultimate shine? Check. Makeup? Eh, all you did was pat on some cheekbone highlighter. Check. Outfit? Sleeveless, burgundy top with an open, laced up backside, faux leather miniskirt, and basic black Converse for comfort. Check.

You smile at yourself in the full-body mirror in your apartment’s foyer. “Effortless.”

Yes, the voice agrees.

...

It’s just after 9:15 when you arrive at the Fire & Ice club downtown. The bouncers stamp both of your left hands with purple stars for the bartenders to serve you the goods before you’re pushed along with the crowd further into the expansive club.

Lights of every color strobe all over with red-tinged string lights on the perimeter of the whole place, and a massive blue-tinged spotlight on the DJ and his setup. The dancefloor in the middle is decently crowded with people around your age, a few 40-something couples sticking out adorably.

“No chasers for you, missy,” your friend reminds you with glittering eyes and a loving squeeze on your upper arm.

You nod, feeling thrilled to be out on the town for once. You raise your index finger to the ceiling with a victory screech: “To the bar!”

Over an hour later, the overhead lights go out, the DJ’s spotlight turns red, and the entire bar gets lit up from the see-through floor with bright, pale-blue lights. Even though you’re definitely tipsy now, you finally notice the mirrored wall panels surrounding the club, and all the spotlights bouncing off of them combined with the bar’s own futuristic lighting makes you realize how truly fire and ice this place is.

Not surprisingly, your friend had slid into their drunk phase a little faster than you, and they’d disappared somewhere with a girl they’d met at the bar. They’d sent you a text 20 minutes ago reading, “Met a spicy lil thang at the bar. I’ll find u later! Keep ordering!!!”

Were you bothered? Nah, you really weren’t. This has happened a few times before elsewhere, and you were still intent on enjoying this day your way, even if that meant dancing like an idiot by yourself.

Were you wondering where the voice was? Yes. He hadn’t spoken to you since you got picked up.

Gulping down the rest of your Captain and Coke, you return the glass to the bar and catch somebody to order a Vegas Bomb shot. Feeling yourself finally dipping into your drunk mode, you down the shot with ease, not so much as wincing at the burn of the alcohol before heading straight back to the center of the dancefloor where a group of girls had left a pocket for you to slip in.

The DJ blends the ending of the current song with the beginning of a new one, “All That” by Emotional Oranges, and the vibes you get from this one are sensual. You’re in your own world of alcoholic delight, and you’re erotically body-rolling with yourself before you feel a pair of hands gently grasp your waist.

You feel the person press their chest against your shoulders, their breath icy cold beside your ear. “Effortless, my darling.”

Every fiber of your being comes to a screetching halt when you hear it.

It’s him.

You spin around—a little too quickly considering your current state—and brace your hands against his chest. He responds by wrapping his arms around your back.

Looking back at you with big, almost black-colored eyes is a man with platinum blonde hair and ridiculously full lips. He’s wearing a white button-up shirt tucked into black pants, a look more fitting for a business-casual luncheon or something.

But who cares about the clothes when he has a face like that? With the most flawlessly radiant, olive skin and hands so warm on your exposed back that he feels like a personal heater?

You could feel the surrounding people’s presence melting away the longer you gazed at him, the more it dawned on you with a certainty you didn’t dare doubt that this was truly the voice you’d been hearing.

You blurt the words without any more hesitation: “Say ‘beautiful.’”

Unphased, he fulfills your request with a melodic purposefulness in his voice, keeping his eyes trained on yours.

With relief washing over you, you drop your jaw in a loud exhale. “It’s you!” You bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, desperate to etch his breathtaking face onto your brain.

“It’s me,” he answers with a sheepish smile, hugging your body tighter against his. He feels as firm as Michelangelo’s David sculpture.

Then you faint in his arms.

Baekhyun

I can’t tell if she fainted from the shock of finally meeting me or from her obvious imbibement. I was actually able to smell it on her warm breath, and if I knew what literally anything on Earth smelled like, I’d be able to describe it.

I was more beside myself being able to finally touch her, though, to finally exist with her in the same dimension of reality. Her skin felt supremely smooth, and I could practically feel the love beaming from her face.

She knew it was me because she asked me to say beautiful, something I’d spoken to her earlier in the morning. She didn’t want to test me, but she also didn’t want to test her sanity or sobriety.

I carried her home, glancing down at her with a kind of all-encompassing happiness I’d never felt before as an angel.

You

At last, you rouse from your fainting spell, and the first thing you see is your apartment ceiling. A dull headache is knocking at the back of your head, and thankfully the only light source is the lamp on your nightstand.

You look to your side and are reminded of the night’s events.

“I’m sorryyy,” you murmur, frowning cutely at the platinum-haired man lying beside you with his head propped up in his hand. He moves his free hand from your hip to your jaw, tenderly grasping it and swiping his thumb side to side.

“Please don’t be,” he replies softly. “I’d do anything for you.”

You look at him for a moment, examining his features. “Do you know my name?”

He grins ear to ear, as if enjoying a private joke. “I think you know I do.”

Although you’d slept off the alcohol, you’re still a little lost. How do you explain meeting the man whose voice you’d heard in your head for three years?

You turn to face him, entwining your lower legs with his under the sheets. He seems almost caught off guard by the touch, but he quickly calms himself.

“I don’t know yours, though. Please help me,” you plead, and he picks up on your subtle allusion to the bigger picture, not just his name.

He sighs quietly, ceasing his thumb strokes and taking your hand in his. “I am—was the angel Baekhyun.” He pauses, gently squeezing your hand as he brings it to his white shirt. “I’ve watched over you for the past 21 years and nine months.”

He pauses again, letting this sit with you. You take a moment to process before speaking. “Why hadn’t I heard your voice earlier?”

He nods once, taking in a breath. “I didn’t want to scare you in your younger years, nor did I want others to think you’d developed an imaginary friend. And for obvious reasons, you couldn’t see me before I fell.”

Before I fell.

The words run you over like a semi-truck, and Baekhyun sees it on your face. “Yes, darling, I fell to Earth.”

You furrow your brow, caught between confusion and wanting to cry. “Why?” you whisper.

“I broke the law,” he says before kissing your knuckles. “I fell in love with a human.”

You can’t help but stare at him, speechless.

“And I want you to know that every time you ever heard my voice,” he continues, “I was speaking to you and only you when I felt you needed me. Most angels deliberately avoid speaking to their humans and instead conjure some sort of earthly sign for them to stumble across. But I couldn’t do that with you. I watched you become such an incredibly strong, self-sufficient woman that I worried you’d never get anything in return from anyone. I wanted you to know you have never been alone.”

Tears well in your eyes at Baekhyun’s sincerity, and you struggle to find any words to string together.

He kisses your hand again. “Before this, my only senses were hearing and seeing. I don’t think I can take my hands off you now.”

You burst into a toothy smile. “So that means you’ve watched me do literally everything...”

Baekhyun notices the streak of seduction coloring your eyes. Glancing toward your nightstand quickly, he says under his breath, “That thing drives you wild.”

You smirk, pulling your intertwined hands forward so you can kiss his knuckles this time. “Do you know how wild your voice has driven me? Still?”

“I kind of always suspected it,” he admits with a smirk. “Nevertheless, we are together, and I don’t know how to adequately express how deeply happy I am, much less how happy I want to make you.”

Moving your legs from his, you kick back the sheets. He’d left you both fully clothed, that gentleman.

“What time is it?” you say as you twist around to check your phone. Your home screen reads just past 3 AM, and there’s even a new text from your bestie: “Glad u found someone!! Text me tomorrow and happy bday again <3″

You turn back to Baekhyun, propping yourself up on your elbow like him. “You texted my friend?”

He nods earnestly. “I’ve seen you do that enough times to understand the courtesy of letting them know.”

You smile in response, deciding to push his shoulder until he’s lying on his back and you’re straddling him. He responds by placing his warm hands on your hips.

You throw your hair to one side before leaning over him with an outstretched arm. “Baekhyun,” you whisper.

“Yes, my darling?” he hums, his eyes eagerly drinking you in.

“I want you.”

His eyes widen enough for you to notice, and he unknowingly digs his fingers into your sides.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says above a whisper.

You lean back and unzip your miniskirt, then you tug at your top’s ribboning to undo it enough for you to pull it off. You take in a deep breath as Baekhyun feverishly assesses you, and your nipples grow hard at his unfettered attention.

“Haven’t you seen this enough?” you ask him softly.

He shakes his head. “Never enough. And now I can feel you, smell you, and taste you.”

You carefully stand above him and brace a hand against the wall as you yank the skirt off, one of his hands tenderly holding your ankle. You straddle him again and sit a little bit lower so you can unbutton his shirt, open his pants and pull out the ends of his shirt.

Spreading the shirt fully open, his chiseled torso knocks the breath out of you. You bring your hands to his abs but hesitate for a second.

“Please keep going,” he begs quietly.

With his approval, you bring your hands down and gingerly run them over the indentations of his abs and the plains of his defined pecs. You trace your index finger from his chin over his Adam’s apple all the way down to his navel.

“Darling?”

“Yes, Baekhyun?”

“What am I feeling in my pelvis? Is something wrong with me?”

You look down and find his very human, very pink, very swollen erection poking out of his underwear. Taking his questions seriously, you answer him: “You have an erection, a boner. That means you’re turned on.”

“’Turned on?’”

“Aroused, excited, in the mood. This is how human men show it,” you reply, keeping your voice sincere. He deserves the truth as it is, not through jokes and teasing. “You’ll have to learn how to control it in public.”

He quickly infers your hidden meaning, nodding. “I trust you.”

Chuckling at his random admission, you say, “I trust you too. I’d like to help you with being a human as you have helped me.”

He beams at you. “I welcome your guidance wholeheartedly.”

You smile and spend the next minute removing your panties and the rest of his clothing.

Baekhyun, in your eyes, is literally the definition of perfection. Covered in bulging muscles and gleaming skin with an unusual heat that almost radiates off his body, you fell speechless again.

You’re on all fours above him now, hovering your face above his. “You make a fine human, Baekhyun.”

“Thank you,” he smiles, his hands back on your hips.

“Stop me whenever,” you say firmly. He nods softly, patiently waiting for your move.

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cherryblossomtease · 3 years

Text

In The Fairest Season ~ Part 4

18+ only

warnings summary masterlist

Chapter Warnings - mild graphic violence

~LATE AUGUST~

Bird song usually soothes you in the mornings.

Your bed is near the window and when the nurse leaves it open you can feel the cool breeze and hear the sparrows, but this morning you’re in pain and you wish you could quiet the little beasts.

You had a nightmare, that must be what it is. Your dreams have always been vivid, ever since you were a child. So much so that they set the tone for your day.

This one is a replaying of the night you almost died. You’ve had it before, for better or worse it is typically the same, but this time, he was there just watching as the butcher hacked away.

You woke with your pulse racing, scared for a while until the sparrows calmed you, and then the pain kicked in and now you are just angry.

It isn’t true. You know he’s the one paying for your care or else you would have been sent home weeks ago.

Instead you have a private nurse and this beautiful room on this quiet floor far from the chaos below with a doctor who speaks kindly when he comes to do his rounds.

He checks your wound which is a specific form of torment you would not wish on your enemy. It is too hard for you to speak when he asks how you feel, but you write with chalk on the little slate they’ve given you and when he is done prodding, they give you fresh bandages and let you sleep.

Eating slowly becomes easier too— when you have an appetite.

Turning your head from the bright light of day, you look at the vase on the table beside your bed and stare at the single dead rose.

It was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes after your surgery. Someone had placed it on your bed while you slept after they stitched you back together and you’ve kept it, refusing to let them throw it away.

Once, you overheard the doctor say that the assailant was in a hurry. The theatre was a risky place to commit such a crime and get away with it. His careleness and your bouquet which took the impact of his assault kept you alive, but it would take time and rest before you could speak.

You still do not have the heart to ask him about singing.

Baron Zemo likes the hunt.

It’s been a while since he has, but not long enough that he’s forgotten how it’s done, or how much he enjoys it.

Patience and observation are his weapons and he’d spent the past few days using both.

The Baron had stripped away his fine clothes, concealing his wealth with worn shoes, a tattered coat and the hat of a man no one would notice. He left the pretty summer mansions behind, forgetting the charm of street lamps and manicured topiaries that decorate the parks, choosing instead to disappear into the bleak slums, quietly following the man whose name he’d gotten through his first round of cat and mouse which had ended very badly for the mouse.

Down he went over shit covered roads, dodging the beggars and dirty children, slipping in and out of the shadows like a predator that crouches in the tall grass before leaping to bite the neck of its victim.

He had stalked around this way for two nights. Thankfully this man -Karpov- is simple.

It will be over and done before midnight.

Pressing his back to the damp wall, the Baron keeps out of sight as Karpov stops at the entrance of an abandoned warehouse just off the water. He speaks with the old man sitting on a barrel and lights what’s left of a cigarette while they chat, the sound of gulls and gentle waves deceptively tranquil.

Zemo watches him, staring at his plain face. He will never forget it, or the way he feels knowing that you have seen him too, and why.

Their voices fade though his eyes stay trained on his target, just a sliver of his face showing around the corner in the dark, the memory of you onstage coming to him quickly.

He can see you so clearly, with your voice so bright and strong. It fills the music hall with the most beautiful sorrow he has ever heard, just when he needed it most…

Karpov may not have killed you —little bird— you are still alive, you are strong and healing even now. But he tried, and that is enough.

There is a righteous anger burning in the Baron’s heart that drives him—pushing him forward much as it did when he lost his wife and son. He won a war fueled by that rage and it is this same hurt that clears his head and keeps him steady. He is at his best when he is hunting those who deserve to die. This man, he thinks watching Karpov take a long drag, is most deserving.

So Zemo waits.

When Karpov finally goes in and the old man slumps down in a drunken sleep, Zemo slips on the mask he has not worn since the fighting at the borderlands and goes inside, making his way through the dark, his eyes quickly growing accustom to it.

He sticks to the shadows moving in through the fallen beams until he notices the silence. Karpov knows he's here. That’s all right.

“No use for that, I know who you are.” Comes Karpov’s voice in the distance.

The Baron smiles beneath his cover. “Then you also know why I’ve come.”

“I guess you’re mad about your little ingenue” He says the word making it sound crude.

“That is an act, only the role played on stage. She —is anything but.”

“All the same, you’ve got a score to settle with me….same as you did the ones that ripped your country apart. Come on then. Stop hiding.” Karpov says and the Baron hears how his voice wavers with fear.

He must truly knows who has come for him.

“What stories have you heard?” Zemo asks, curious as he walks past the wreckage. “What tales of war have made it all the way to your filthy ears?” He smirks. When he steps into the dim light of a barrel fire, the doomed man backs away.

Through the flames, Karpov catches his first glimpse of the Baron. He sees the long black coat with the white fur collar, similar to what the men wore to stay warm through the long winters of a northern war and the thick gloves to make gripping swords much easier. And finally, the mask that had become the stuff of legend between the fighters. Karpov may not have been there to see first hand, but he'd heard enough on the docks from the ones who traveled through, those few who survived...

Zemo's men rallied behind the mask and his enemies feared it. The entire time, none knew who the man that wore it was, the Baron had managed to keep this identity secret. They only knew that he was fearless and seemed to enjoy the killing when it kept others alive. Now Karpov knew— he did not expect to live long enough to tell the secret.

“You’re Baron Zemo.” He says awed. “The masked swordsman of Sokovia.” He grins with the discovery. “You’re the one who waits, and hunts.” His gold teeth gleam in the firelight. "And falls in love with little stage girls who forget their place." He says with a laugh, but that laugh is not genuine. He is trying very hard to stave off the inevitable.

Zemo squares his shoulders and fixes his eyes on his victim. It’s been a very long time since anyone has looked at him this way, but it is instantly familiar. All cowards make the same face right before they die. Still he is surprised and tilts his head, perhaps a little flattered that his war reputation has reached so far. He gives a single nod. “Yes… the patient man. With experience.” He adds and looks Karpov in the eye, his grin hidden beneath the mask. Why is he still standing here?

“Run.”

The man growls an angry response, he does not usually back down from a fight, but when the Baron steps around the fire, and draws his sword, Karpov forgets his own reputation in the slums and turns, fleeing up a set of crooked stairs, jumping over the places he knows won’t support him as he makes his was along the balcony of the next floor. The Baron stays put to watch; his brain doing the calculations to follow without stepping on a rotted or missing plank.

When the time is right he follows.

“I can smell you from here.” Zemo says into the dark as he climbs, his voice finding Karpov before he does. They say predators can smell fear, perhaps the war has changed him more than he realized. And to think he used to be a peaceful man.“People seem to find joy in taking things from me.” Zemo says stepping onto the second floor. He pauses to listen so happy that the hunt is not over. This may be Karpov’s territory but what is a broken building to a man who has seen the end of the world. “Such careless, stupid ignorance.” Zemo scolds softly. “Better men than you have tried my friend. And I’m sure you know that happened to them. You see it is not what I did during the war that should frighten you. It’s what I did to the ones who caused the deaths of my family after the fact.” Karpov is breathing is too loud. He does know.

Zemo hears and pauses, going left to find him instead of right.

Karpov feels panic, he’s set something off inside of Zemo, something that had been quiet for so long. He should never have done it, but how could he have known that the Baron the little bitch snuck off with was this one!

And then a breeze, like the breath of an angel catches his hair, reminding him of another way out.

Not waiting to test fate, the man scuttles across the floor boards down a short hallway with the broken wall that leads to the water below. He stands gazing down not wanting to jump, but not wanting to die in a fight either.

It isn’t so very far, he thinks watching the gentle waves break on the planks of the warehouse. But those rocks… he is certain he will not be able to miss them. He will have to take a running leap. Gathering his courage he takes a step back.

“Tell me, how long do you think it took your friend to give you up?” Zemo asks, his voice as light as a feather in Karpov’s ear. “Just the threat of my blade and he told me your name. I still killed him of course."

Karpov shuts his eyes, angry that he’s missed his chance. The bastard Baron moves as quiet as a snake in the grass. “You killed Charlie?”

“Yes.” He says and begins to raise his sword.

Furious at being caught, Karpov gives a shout and swings back with an elbow, but Zemo ducks missing the swing, rising with a single attack. His trusted sword delivering silent death. He takes a step or two back and waits. He did not miss.

Karpov stands, his face contorting, he reaches as if the Baron might help. He is confused and then he realizes.

The blood looks black against his dirty shirt blooming like a rotted flower as it seeps from the wound to his heart. The color drains from Karpov's face.

Zemo looks him over and it comes on quickly. Rage and fear are such a powerful combination. As the dying man sputters, the Baron kicks his stomach hard enough to send Karpov through the broken wall.

Pulling the mask from his face, Zemo quickly goes to the edge of the building, leaning over in time to see the way Karpov’s body breaks on the black rocks, ruined and hardly recognizable as a man.

He stares down at the gore for far too long, his only thought being that Karpov’s accomplice Charlie had been shown a mercy when his throat was sliced. Though it was a just end for a man so fond of showing the same -kindness- to innocent women.

Turing away, Zemo sheaths his sword and slips his mask into his coat, sad to put it away, and starts back through the warehouse. Unsure that he’s done what you would want, he questions his actions, but he is certain that his own brand of justice has been served.

The men who would cause you harm are dead. And that is all that matters.

“Throw it out,” You say. It is the first time you’ve tried using your voice. The nurse is shocked that you’ve finally given in but she seems so pleased that you try; you are only angry with what you hear.

It sounds like a crow scratching at a window.

You hate the sound.

It’s never even occurred to you to love or hate your speaking voice, it’s just been there and pleasant enough, sort of soft and unassuming, so different from when you sing.

Everything has changed so quickly.

“Are you sure miss? You’ve kept it all this time.” She says, her kindness punctuated by her hand resting light on your shoulder.

You look up at the ceiling from your pillow in bed refusing to look at that silly rose anymore. It is a symbol of something that has been proven to be untrue.

One week spent with your fate unknown. Three weeks you’ve lain here recovering. In all that time he has not written or come to see you.

It is unexpected, you’re not sure what to make of it, but you assume the worst and try to adjust to living with a broken heart beneath a lost voice.

“I’m sure.”

youtube

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babylooneytoonz · 4 years

Text

Warnings: Just fluff, and implied confessions, a lot of baby stuff, mighty heroes being softies at heart with a baby on the way

Link to the Masterlist.

Bucky kept glancing at you, shielded from your direct gaze as you were facing the side. You didn’t know he was standing there by the entrance to the recreation room, watching you from the corner of his eyes, as Wanda leaned over you, giggling to herself, running her palm over your stomach.

“Why’d you hide this from us, Y/N?” Wanda asked you, but you kept mull, because the truth was, you didn’t have the answer to it yourself. It was many things; the fact that you didn’t want to burden Bucky, knowing very well that he wasn’t ready for this, and maybe he never will. You didn’t blame him though, it wasn’t his fault. Maybe in a parallel world, if this was the man that he used to be in 1940s, he would have been happy. Also, you were scared of this; you had lost a child once, and you were scared of losing this one too, and this time, you didn’t want to break down in front of these Mighty Heroes. Then there was the fact that you wanted to hunt them all down, one by one, that HYDRA scum and you had thought you would be able to do it since you were a freaking avenger, but this baby, with the super serum of its father running through its veins, was proving to be more difficult than you had imagined. This child kept you on your toes, and hardly let you get any sleep, it was always kicking around and squirming inside you and you were tired, sleep deprived and so exhausted, you couldn’t even tell them.

Bucky didn’t know what he was feeling; was it anxiety, fear, paranoia or elation? Perhaps it was a mix of it all. He had lost hope of living a normal life; of starting his own family, watching them grow up and have grandchildren one day. Maybe this was the beginning of it. But there was a deep rooted fear inside him. He wasn’t the same man he was; he had been a cold blooded killing machine. A monster. He was scared for the first time ever since Winter Soldier was linked to him. He was scared of the kind of life this child was going to have when they grew up. How safe would they be? And would they hate him for the things he did? Worse of all, will he even be able to be a father? It was a different thing to father a child, but an entirely different thing to be a father to a child. Worst of all, he was scared of the effect his serum would have on that child.

Bucky kept watching, his index finger resting on his chin, his hair messily falling over the side of his face. He noticed how beautiful you looked; how divine, and you were glowing. Your face looked ten shades brighter, although he did notice that for some reason, you looked exhausted, and your eyes looked strained and droopy. Bucky’s eyes trailed over your body, moving along your curves and your tresses until it landed on your stomach. He loved the way you looked, especially right now, and the fact that it was his child in there, it marveled him beyond imagination, and somehow, it pumped blood into his body, his pants already growing tight at your sight.

“You still haven’t spoken to her yet, have you?” His thoughts were broken when Steve stepped next to him, fixing himself where he was standing and the super soldiers stared at the tiny little homely scene in front of them. Who could say that the mighty Avengers could not be softies? Sam was sitting on a stool, painting your toenails, and you were laughing at a joke that Natasha had cracked. If it was any other scenario, Bucky would have wanted to smack Sam Wilson on the back of his head, but watching that soft smile draped over your lips, he didn’t want to.

“Spoken to her about what?” He asked dryly, turning towards his best friend.

Steve almost deadpanned, giving him the look, his eyes narrowed almost in disapproval, “About what this means for the two of you.”

“Punk, I don’t see how this changes anything,” Bucky mumbled, his voice cold.

“This changes everything, Buck. If this was 1940s, you would have been over the moon– "

“that’s the problem, Stevie. This ain’t 1940. And that man died that day when he fell off that fucking train.”

Steve Rogers' eyes looked like they might pop out second, and it was rare when he got angry. However right now , he was fuming. He was tired of Bucky running away from things, things that could give him a normal life. His fists clenched, his hard staring eyes glaring at the other super soldier.

“This is your problem, James. You don’t even want to try. And guess what? It’s not her fault she got dragged into this with you. Now, if you’re not going to be a man, and take responsibility for what you’ve done, then I am.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“We are going to be uncles to that kid, be there for Y/N even if you refuse to.”

“Fuck, Steve. When did I say anything about not being there for her? I brought her here, so she could be cared for.”

“And that exactly is the problem here. Only, you don’t see it,” Steve walked off, before Bucky could even ask him what he was supposed to understand from that little Captain America outburst.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

It wasn’t easy growing a freaking super soldier baby inside you.

You huffed in annoyance, propping yourself up in bed, wiping the mild layer of sweat that had formed on your forehead. You had tolerated brutal punches and kicks to your ribs, and walked off with a smile on your face. You had gotten your nose broken, and you had cackled like a lunatic at the person who had broken it, but for some annoying reason, the way your back was throbbing relentlessly, you were finding it hard to find a comfortable position to sleep in.

So you slid out of bed, wrapping a robe around your swollen body, pushing your glasses over the bridge of your nose. You crept out of your apartment, making sure to close the door as quietly as you could so you didn’t wake up Bucky or Sam, who had apartments on the either side of yours. You tiptoed up to the kitchen, turning on the lights, throwing open the fridge.

You growled in frustration, pulling out items from the fridge and randomly tossing them away, on the slab, trying to look for what you were craving – Pretzels.

Annoyed, you slammed the fridge door shut, ignoring the fact that you weren’t exactly being discreet enough and dragged yourself out into the recreation room. It didn’t look like this little spawn of his father was going to let you sleep much tonight. Like father, like baby. The both of them were messing with you and your mind; the father because he was a dick, and the kid because they weren’t even here yet and they were already keeping you on your toes. You slumped in front of the TV, grabbing the remote when a drowsy figure emerged out of the shadows, her hair standing like mohawk on top of her head.

“I woke you up, didn’t I?” You asked, only to get a groan in form of a reply as Natasha propped herself next to you.

“Not really, I just woke up, thought I’d raid the kitchen but saw that the lights were on. What’s up?” She eyed you.

“Don’t even ask. That bed is uncomfortable, my back hurts like a bitch. I thought I’d satisfy these really annoying Pretzel cravings but we have none. I don’t know why this kid even likes pretzels. His dad likes pancakes and I like tortillas,” you muttered, while aimlessly flipping through the channels.

“Barnes likes pancakes? You seem to know a lot about him, well.”

You shrugged, feeling a sudden heat creep into your cheeks for no reason.

“Its nothing like that, it’s just something I’ve seen him munch on.”

“Whatever, Y/N. He’s your man, I don’t even want to comment on it. Anyway, I’m off. You carry on, I’ll see if I can ask Tony to get you pretzels tomorrow,” she hopped off the couch, stretching her arms once before she started walking away when you called out, “Nat?”

She stopped walking, turned around partly, and glanced at you.

“What was he like when the two of you were, you know – “

“You mean the Red Room.” She froze, and her arms came to cross against her chest. You saw her lips part and she was trying to find the right words, but none came out.

“He was much more colder than he is with you. You are good for him, Y/N. I was just someone that he felt solitude with. Because he was alone. But now he isn’t alone and yet, he looks at you like you’re the only one for him.”

“His words say otherwise though.” You only chuckled, and watched Natasha Romanoff leave, and your attention went back to watching the TV and you couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky still felt the same way about her, given the fact that they had history.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

You slept almost all day the next day, making up for the sleepless night you had, and it was almost midday when you woke up, stretching your arms in the air. When your eyes adjusted to the lights, you noticed a maternity pillow laying on your bed. It was a bright yellow in colour, and it looked comfy as hell. You hurriedly reached out, clutching it in your palm until you had it pulled towards you. You curled up against it, nuzzling your face against its soft fabric and relaxing into the comfort that it gave you. Natasha might be a cold hearted spy for the rest of the world, but she was a softie at heart, and you loved her dearly.

You straightened your loose fitting frock, pulling it down against your thighs as you got off the bed, stroking your bump in a slow, soft motion.

The recreation room was buzzing with energy today, and the minute you stepped in, you were greeted by Natasha, and Bucky, already dressed in their uniforms, speaking to Steve. You squinted your eyes in confusion, watching the two of them, trying to listen to what they were taking about when Bucky turned towards you, meeting your gaze. You didn’t look away, and instead, gave him just the tiniest of the smiles, and much to your amazement, he reciprocated it, although it wasn’t much. You walked up to Sam, grabbing his arm and pulling him up.

“What’s going on?”

“The two of them are going on an undercover mission. Afghanistan.” Sam informed, biting into what looked like a pretzel.

“Okay, is that a fucking pretzel in your mouth?” You reached for his plate that still had one pretzel left, grabbing it before Sam could protest, and flung it into your mouth, munching on it, savoring it against your taste buds. Suddenly, you sat straighter, and again turned towards him, “Are the two of them going on the mission? Alone?”

“Whoa, hey. That’s the freaking Winter Soldier and the Black Widow. They don’t need anyone else if they’re together.”

“Really Sam?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way of course.” He winked, and you turned back to watch Bucky smile slightly at something that Natasha had probably said to him, which was funny. When you looked over at Natasha, you got a jab in the arm from Sam and he chuckled, “Jealousy ain’t pretty,”. He stood up and bending down to grab the empty plate, started walking off. “More pretzels?” He called out; but you weren’t listening anymore. You were walking towards Bucky and Natasha, and you didn’t know why.

“Hey, Nat? You’ve got a minute?” You chimed in, the minute you were close to the two of them.

She stopped speaking to Bucky, and her head, and his too, snapped in your direction, and she nodded, “All cool?”

“Yep.” You grabbed her arm, and pulled her away from Bucky, rather rudely and pulling her aside, you motioned towards Sam, “You got me that pillow and those pretzels, I wanted to thank you. At least there’s someone who understands.”

“Uh, Y/N, what pillow and wait, are there pretzels in the kitchen? Hey, Sam, don’t you finish them all alone – “ She left you standing there, startled, and in a daze as she scampered off, running after Sam, and you didn’t notice Steve watching you with a smile on his face, until he cleared his throat.

“Ah, Cap, I didn’t see you there.” You smiled, awkwardly.

“the lot can be a handful, especially when you get Sam and Natasha and Buck under the same room.”

Again, Natasha and Bucky.

“It was you, wasn’t it? That pillow in my bedroom, the pretzels in the kitchen.” You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to reply, your hands resting on your back.

“I did have a part to play in that, but it was all him. The poor fellow didn’t have any clue so he dragged me through a lot of pillows. Until he settled on the one in your bedroom.”

“Who?” You asked.

Steve just pointed towards the door, and you turned around, noticing Bucky standing by the exit, his foot resting against the wall, as he scrolled through his phone.

“He did this? How?” You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, trying to blink away the tears bubbling in your eyes. Fucking pregnancy hormones.

“Probably heard you and Natasha talk about this. He’s been dragging me out ever since he woke up.”

“Steve, you know what.. I think I need to talk to him.” Steve only smiled, his smile reaching the crook of his twinkling eyes and nodded. You turned your tail, waddling all the way to where Bucky was standing, and when he looked up at who was approaching, he slid his phone away, nodding at you.

“I, uh, Buck, I – Thank you? For the pillow? And the pretzels and –“ You were blabbering, ignoring the smirk that had paved its way to his lips, the smirk that was tugging at your heartstrings.

“Its alright, doll. It’s my fault this happened.”

“Is the mission important? Can’t no one else go ?” you blurted out, and it was too late to take your words back.

Bucky dramatically tilted his head to one side, shuffling the weight of his foot from one side to another as he blinked, “Sort of. Don’t know. Clint can go. Why?”

You averted your gaze, and if it was easier for you to look down at your hands without having your tummy blocking your view , you would have noticed the way your fingers were nervously toying with each other.

“Its nothing. I just, well best of luck.” You gave him a fake, half hearted smile, and started turning away when Bucky reached for your arm, grabbing it, and pulled you to him. Your eyes closed for a split second, and when you opened them again, his face was dangerously close to yours, and your heart was strumming mindlessly against your chest. You didn’t know what to call this feeling; and the nearest that you could name it as were butterflies. Or maybe it was just your baby doing a somersault inside your tummy.

“Is everything alright with you?” He asked you, his palm flying up to your face so that he was cupping your chin, his thumb stroking your cheek.

Your tear betrayed you, and you mentally cursed yourself because James Buchanan Barnes had caught you crying, for your tear had rolled down against his thumb, “you’re worrying me now, doll. Is the baby okay?” His eyes fell to your stomach, and then back on your face.

You nodded, wiping your tear away.

“You’re going on a fucking mission with the Black Widow. And you two would be alone, I– “

You braced yourself for him to snap at you, and find words to insult you. You were so foolish. What the fuck were you thinking that you said that to him? Only he didn’t. Instead, a wide grin formed on his face and he just pulled your cheek. Wait, did he just fucking pull your cheek? You had killed people, point blank, looking them in the eye. And this man right here had just pulled your cheek like you were a fucking two year old. But then again, you should have been angry, yet you weren’t.

“Is that what’s gotten you like this? You think there’s something left between me and Natasha?” He only smiled, shaking his head.

“Natasha is beautiful, she is amazing, but.. “ he took a step away from you when he saw Natasha emerge from inside and tossed a gun in the air that Bucky managed to catch while taking backwards steps away from you, “There’s someone else for me and although she can be a pain in the ass, I can’t stop thinking about her.”

You suppressed your smile. He could tell from your blush that you felt the same way for him, and your actions, your little display of jealousy had just proved it for him. He didn’t want to admit to himself; he found the rosiness in your cheeks cute, and he definitely didn’t want to admit that he was head over heels in love with you, and you coming back into his life had only made the feeling stronger. Although it wasn’t in the most conventional way for the two of you, for people usually fell in love, got married and had babies, for the two of you it had been hate, one time sex, an unplanned pregnancy and now love. He didn’t mind it.

"Do me a favour Barnes," you smirked, as he stepped into the elevator, with Natasha, who was smirking too, her eyes flying from you to him, and then back, "And get your ass back in one piece, yeah?" Before he could reply, the elevator doors closed, but not without you having seen that nod of his head.

Now all he wanted to do was get on that fucking quinjet, get done with the fucking mission, and get back to you.

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slasherholic · 4 years

Text

(psst... did someone say Mikey whump? guys I think someone said Mikey whump…)

Frisky February Prompt: Electricity~ (yes it’s 15 days too early shush) @slashthedice

synopsis: Michael gets served up some nasty, nasty revenge by someone who really, really has it out for him.

warnings: torture in a medical setting, sexual assault, mikey has a bad time ok

foreword: the opinions expressed here by the POV character about certain sensitive topics in no way reflect my own beliefs <3

No Faith in Medicine | Michael Myers x Reader | NSFW

The hospital corridor is long and grey and stretches onward toward a single bolted door, labeled by the rectangular sign hanging above it as Therapy Theater No. 5.

This deep within the bowels of the sanitarium, below the patient wards and the enrichment centers and the checkered courtyard, there is hardly any of the familiar clamour; so as you stride closer to the door the clack of your bootheels over the beige linoleum carries like thunder.

Smith’s Grove was never the sort of place you had pictured yourself ending up during all those sleepless nights studying for your Ph.D, and truthfully, you can’t stand it here. The deliberate blandness of the hospital, with its color palettes limited to inoffensive whites and blues and greys—meticulously designed so as not to provoke its residents—wears on you more than anything else.

You feel like you’re suffocating here; but it doesn’t matter.

This job was never about you to begin with. It was never about some commendable interest in the healing of troubled minds, either; oh-no. There are two-hundred-and-forty-nine permanent patients living inside these sound-proof walls, and while it may not be a very doctorly thing to admit, you don’t give a rat’s ass about two-hundred-and-forty-eight of them.

...and as for that last “troubled mind,” well…

The breezy summer afternoon that Michael Myers was sentenced to life imprisonment exists in your head as vividly as a snapshot picture.

Almost as vivid is your memory of the Halloween that a policeman had come knocking at your front door to inform you in a strictly-business-voice that your sister was found dead in her kitchen, her throat slit open from ear to ear.

You remember watching from your couch as the gavel came down and the judge ruled the man who had taken your sister’s life away as criminally insane—and not responsible for his actions on that fateful October night—and therefor not legally a candidate for the death penalty.

You remember the burning, frustrated tears streaming down your face, the shatter of glass as you hurled the remote at the television screen, and then sinking down in a heap on the floor and screaming until your lungs were raw and your voice was in tatters, because it wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair.

So when the news came out that Myers was to be transferred back to Smith’s Grove—hardly a forty minute commute from your own house—you had been out the door that very same day, speeding in your car down the highway, ready to accept any available position the Sanitarium would offer you for your credentials.

It had been your one shot at revenge on the sick, evil fucker who had ruined your happiness; and you were prepared to move heaven and earth just to bring Myers hell.

It had taken eight months before you even laid eyes on the man for the first time.

You’d landed yourself a patient therapy position, but only had the clearance to treat patients who fell under the “medium” and “high-risk” categories. In the entire hospital there were only two patients who fell under the third and final category: a spitting lunatic of a man, who couldn’t be safely approached without first being drugged half-asleep with antipsychotics...

...and Myers.

You had possessed the patience of a saint, climbing through promotion after promotion.

And the very minute that you were handed back a fresh copy of your I.D, now with a little red stamp at the bottom, the stamp that meant you were cleared to work with Myers, you had raced down to the front desk to file your recommendation for treatment.

Three days later, after hours of debriefing by Dr. Ashton, Myers’ new court-assigned psychiatrist, you came face to face with the worst criminal the sanitarium had ever known.

You had seen Myers’ face pictured in black and white on newspaper articles and in fuzzy low-definition on T.V.

And absolutely none of that could have prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh.

The thing that had startled you most when you were led by Dr. Ashton into Michael’s barren, cramped room—the thing that practically had you reeling when your eyes fell on the motionless figure sitting on the cot in the corner, chained at the wrists and ankles by a metal link fastened to the floor—the thing you still despise yourself for thinking—

—is that Myers was jaw-droppingly, stunningly handsome.

His were the kind of ethereal good looks that you might expect to find in some renaissance painting, or a Grecian statue, or a fantasy book.

You had stood staring across the room at the motionless young man, drinking in all the features of his vacant, pretty face; overcome by complete and total disbelief that this was actually the person responsible for all your grief.

And the very next second, that disbelief was shattered like a dropped vase; when you looked into Myers’ stare.

It brought down the temperature in the room like a cold-snap. It was not directed at you, only at the floor, yet it had you shuddering anyway, had all the hairs on your arms standing straight up. It was not a lights-on-but-nobody-home sort of gaze, the kind you were expecting from how Myers had been described by his former psychiatrist. His face was blank, yes; that was accurate enough.

But his eyes, they were the furthest thing from it.

Michael Myers had the eyes of a ruthless, calculating, viciously deliberate predator.

The longer you had stood there, gawking at Myers as if he were a tiger in a cage, hardly listening to Dr. Ashton’s rambling about his admiration of your interest in his patient’s treatment, the more you became aware of the charge crackling in the air; like the moment in a thunderstorm just before lightning rips through the sky. It was as if every fiber in your body could sense the danger radiating from this man; you could all but see and smell the invisible blood staining his hands.

It had turned your vision into a seething cloud of red.

Here was a murderer—the worst kind of murderer, who was perfectly, undoubtedly aware of his crimes, a fact you could tell from just his eyes—who carried in his heart not a single shred of remorse for the lives he’d ripped away. Who, when he was unable to kill, had resigned himself to sitting and anticipating the day when he might once again have his hands around a warm throat, the day when he would pick right back up where he left off and take another life as carelessly and thoughtlessly as one snuffing out a candle.

And this man had been allowed to keep breathing.

You think of all these things as you reach the end of the corridor and swipe your I.D card on the door to Therapy Theater No.5. Hidden locking mechanisms whirr and click open.

You place your hand around the cool metal handle. For a moment, you just stand there. Feeling your pounding heart in your chest.

It pounds not because you are fearful; you don’t care if you get caught because of what you are about to do. You don’t care if you get fired, or if you get your license taken away, or even if you go to jail. Those are the most trivial, unimportant things in the world. No. Your heart does not pound for those reasons.

It pounds because, finally, there will be justice.

Finally, the evil son-of-a-bitch who slaughtered your sister is getting what he deserved all along.

And you get to be the one to flip the switch.

You turn the door handle and step into the room.

Therapy Theater No.5 is bathed in bright fluorescent light and smells strongly of antiseptic and sterilization. Three people are already in the room: two armed guards, who nod in acknowledgment at you when you enter.

And laid out at the center across a white padded table, dressed in a pale blue hospital gown, strapped tightly down at the wrists and ankles by hospital-grade cuffs, looking up at the ceiling as if utterly uncaring, motionless save for the rise and fall of his ribs—Myers.

A nurse had come in before you to prepare the room for treatment. The therapy you’re meant to be administering is simple and painless: electrodes are fixed to the patient’s body and a weak electrical current is passed through, stimulating choice muscle groups—and in more recent cases, even parts of the brain.

You had emphasized that part specifically in your pitch of the therapy to Dr. Ashton, referencing a study which showed how violent tendencies could be soothed in patients who underwent the treatment.

And no, you’d reassured him, it was nothing like electroconvulsive therapy.

The electrical current used in E.S.T is never strong enough to induce seizures. The only thing the subject feels is a mild, if not pleasant, buzz...

·…or at least that’s how it’s meant to be administered.

Tampering with the wattage of the machine had turned out to be laughably easy. A few snipped wires here, a few crunched numbers there, and now the bulky device sitting atop the roll-around table beside your “patient” can deliver a shock nastier than a taser with every throw of the switch.

It’s not strong enough to stop a human heart (god, you wish.) But it is enough to make Myers hurt.

Enough to make him writhe on that table.

Maybe even enough to make the heartless bastard feel something for a change.

You thank the guards before dismissing them. They leave the room but you know they won’t go far; no further than right outside in the hall, waiting through the entire session with their hands on their batons in case Myers gets out of hand.

Their security would be a welcome thing, if you were actually about to /treat/ Myers instead of torturing the living daylights out of him. But now, the guards are just another problem in need of a solution.

Though you are almost confident that Myers will retain his silence throughout the ordeal—that he’ll uphold his veil of distance and aloofness and total lack of care with the stubbornness of an ass—you’re not about to bet your shot at justice on it.

That’s what the ball gag in your coat pocket is for.

Reaching down to check that it is still there, excitement swells in your belly as your fingers graze the black silicone.

On the table, Myers is still motionless. He doesn’t tilt his head to regard you. He pays you no attention at all, in fact, as if you aren’t even there to begin with. Never do his steely eyes move from their fixed place on the ceiling light hanging above him.

As you walk up to the roll-around table, plucking a pair of latex gloves from a box stashed on the shelf beneath before snapping them curtly on, for a reason that you can’t put into words, you find yourself hesitating to look Myers in the face.

It doesn’t matter that he’s restrained; it doesn’t matter that there are two armed and capable guards standing watch right outside. Despite both these things, that vitriolic, charged aura you had felt in his cell still surrounds him now, polluting the room, hanging like a storm cloud over your head.

It’s as if some submissive animal instinct has gripped your brain and now screams warnings at you: Predator. Danger. Don’t look it in the eye. Don’t provoke it.

You do your damndest to dismiss the feeling as nerves.

In a little white tray next to the E.S.T machine sits a filled syringe; a sedative. Dr. Ashton has insisted on it to better ensure your safety, as well as Myers’ cooperation. In the psychiatrist’s exact words:

“These days Michael is, ah, fussier about this kind of treatment—you know, the kind they gotta bring in the guards for, the needles, the cuffs, the whole nine-yards.

It’s a theory of mine that, after living with the sort of power Michael did, the loss of his own control doesn’t sit as nicely anymore. He doesn’t like it. And he’s not afraid to let us know just how much he doesn’t like it.”

Fussy. That was the word Ashton had used to describe Myers.

It had taken every shred of self-control you possessed not to scoff in the Doctor’s face at that; as if the man laid out before you now were some sort of stubborn, overgrown toddler, and not a remorseless, murderous psychopath.

You don’t spare the sedative a second glance as you unravel the bundle of wires and nodes connected to the E.S.T machine; Myers is going to be awake to feel every goddamned second of what you do to him.

Only after you’re finished with him will you finally send him under.

You can picture the conversation with Ashton now: Yes sir, the sedative worked like a charm, he was out like a light the entire time; no sir, no complications at all.

You take your time setting up the machine because you’re still hesitant to even look at Myers, let alone touch him. But when the wires are all connected, the red power button flashing idly in standby, there is nothing left to do except attach the electrodes.

You force yourself to look him in the face as you approach. You should not be afraid of this man; you should resent him, should despise him, but should not fear him. He doesn’t deserve to hold that sort of power over you, or anyone else, ever again.

So you look.

Michael is still watching the ceiling. According to his eyes, he does not acknowledge you.

But just from how the hair on your nape stands on end you know you’re being watched.

Myers is regarding you coolly in his periphery with the curiosity of a feline, feigning detachment and disinterest; but the weight and pressure of that penetrating gaze could not be more obvious if it were a ton of bricks coming right down on your head.

With a deep breath to rein in your resolve, you reach down, your fingers working to undo the first knot on Myers’ hospital gown.

Quickly, you discover that it is one thing to look at Myers; to feel for yourself his ruthless awareness, the raw intensity of his presence.

But to touch him is another thing altogether.

He draws a breath of his own as you fidget with his gown, his strong rib cage expanding beneath your fingers. You shudder at the sudden pressure of his body; whether out of disgust, or anger, or some fucked up fascination, you aren’t sure.

After undoing the ties on both sides, you lift the front of his gown up and off—

—and find that Myers is totally naked underneath.

Standard hospital procedure for a therapy like this one. Nothing new.

But it’s different when the patient looks like this.

You hate yourself for ogling him. You detest the way your eyes rove across Myers’ body, lingering on all the features that your lizard-brain decides it likes; from the stark tendons in his neck to his sharp and angular collarbones, from his broad, rounded shoulders to the beautiful definition in his abdomen, and down even further than that before you can stop yourself.

To the V of his obliques—to the trail of curly brown pubic hair on his pelvis—and all the way down to his flaccid penis.

You snatch a towel from the roll-around and drape it hurriedly over his hips. Not for the sake of his modesty; just so you don’t have to worry about your eyes straying down to the cock of the man who murdered your sister.

As far as the placement of the electrodes on his body, you honestly haven’t given it much thought. It seemed like the sort of thing that would come to you like an epiphany, as if suddenly, in the moment, you would know exactly where to hit Myers to really make him suffer.

But no such epiphany comes. Oh well; you have an hour to experiment.

Grabbing the two nodes off their holders, you run the wires across his chest and press the little round circles down flat against his pectorals.

When your gloved fingers graze Myers’ skin you nearly jerk back your hand, startled. The man is hot like a stove.

Your medical fascination is instantly piqued—Myers must have the hottest resting body temperature you’ve ever encountered. You have to force away intrusive thoughts of sticking a thermometer in his mouth to see that number for yourself.

Focus.

Tugging up on the wires, you test the integrity of the node’s suction. They don’t budge from his chest, lifting his skin with them as you pull. Perfect; It’s nearly time.

Now for the gag.

You just have to cross your fingers and pray that you can actually get it in his mouth.

Looking Myers in the face a third time proves to be no less jarring than it had been the second or the first. You’re just relieved that even after all your poking and prodding he is still pretending not to be interested in you, or in the things you’re doing to his body.

You clear your throat before speaking to him because you don’t trust it enough not to crack.

“Open up,” you command him, mustering every authoritative bone in your body and sounding very official even to your own ears.

Removing the gag from your pocket, you hold it up as if to show him, taking care to conceal the black silicone ball with your hand.

“Mouthguard.”

You doubt that Myers has seen this sort of gag before. Or that he even knows what a gag is. Still, you’re not taking that risk. If this doesn’t work then you’re going to have to drug him just to get the damn thing in place, then wait for him to sober up again—a colossal waste of time.

For a tense second, Myers does not respond to your command. He just lays there on the table, inhaling and exhaling, looking incredibly bored with you, with his nakedness, with the electrodes strapped to his chest.

Your jaw goes tense. You nearly repeat yourself.

But then, he opens up his mouth.

Beneath the harsh overhead lighting his teeth gleam wetly. You suspect immediately that he’s going to try and bite your fingers off the second you get too close.

Game on, fucker.

From the shelf below the roll-around you snatch up a small blotting rag. Walking around to stand at the head of the table, you gaze down at Myers again.

“The strap goes underneath.” You inform him. “I need you to lift your head up.”

He does.

And you strike. Faster than you had thought yourself capable.

You drape the rag over his eyes so that he can’t see what’s coming. Thrusting the gag hard into his open mouth, you wedge it firmly between his teeth. In the corner of the room, Myers’ heart monitor spikes suddenly, the electronic beeping speeding up momentarily—a sound that has you beaming with pride.

You’ve actually managed to startle him.

As you clip the strap into place around the back of his head, a strange sense of accomplishment floods your body—you’ve done it. You’ve actually done it. Everything is ready.

Every sacrifice you’ve made in these past eight months, every hour spent in this godforsaken hellhole, it was all worth it just to bring about this single moment.

The moment is made only sweeter when you rip the rag away from Myers’ face.

Oh. Now you have his attention.

Those pale eyes are looking straight up at you. Considering you with the cutting gaze of a hawk. Working out the situation.

You glare right back down at him. You stare deep into his eyes, the triumphant fire now raging in your chest burning hotter than the ice in his stare, more furiously than all the danger—and you find that you are not afraid of him anymore. Like this, Myers is nothing. He’s not a boogeyman. Not a phantom. He’s just a man—stripped of all his mysticism. Strapped to a table. Naked. Gagged.

Powerless.

Just as powerless to stop what you’re about to do to him as each and every one of the people whose lives he took away.

“Hello, Michael.” You hold his fierce eye-contact as you speak. “Ten months ago you broke into my sister’s house and murdered her.”

Myers doesn’t blink. But neither do you.

“When they tried you, you were supposed to leave that courtroom a dead man walking; you were supposed to die. That's how our justice system works—when you do the things you did, you don’t get to keep on living.”

Nothing changes on Myers’ face as you speak. Nothing changes in his eyes. Not one molecule in his body has an atom of care to give about the words you’re saying. He breathes around the gag, his heart monitor beeping slow and steady.

“I don’t give a single fuck about what that judge said,” You continue. “And I don’t care how sick in the head you really are. You knew exactly what you were doing that night. I can see it in your eyes, Myers—you loved every fucking second of it. And that’s the only thing that matters.”

You draw a long breath. One that you hold in your lungs before letting slowly out again.

“You’re the evilest son-of-a-bitch on this entire fucking planet; and you deserve to die.”

Walking over to the E.S.T machine, fighting back with tooth and claw against furious tears now threatening your eyes, you place your finger over the power switch.

Myers watches you; and you notice something flicker to life in his glacial eyes. Not an emotion. Just a realization.

Good. He understands now. He understands what you’re about to do to him.

“Someone has to make you pay. Someone has to.”

Michael just stares. Watching you. Watching your finger on the switch. His pulse on the monitor ticks as leisurely as if he were about to fall asleep.

“And guess what, you sick fuck?”

Still staring—not blinking—breaths coming slowly.

“I’m so fucking happy that it’s me.”

You throw the switch—

—the wires crackle with live electricity—

—and all of Myers’ deliberate, calculated control is shattered like a dropped glass.

His body seizes. His eyes snap shut. His fingers curl into fists that turn his knuckles whiter than the table beneath him. The tendons in his neck and forearms jump out, straining beneath his skin. His heart monitor beats erratically, the little green line on the screen spiking sharply, racing out of control.

Your eyes are glued to the grisly scene. You devour each and every involuntary reaction, relishing in the complete and utter breakdown of his control.

Fifteen gorgeous seconds pass before you remember that you were supposed to be counting to ten. Whoops. You might be frying his brain into an unfeeling stupor at this point. You flip the switch off in an instant because you need him awake, aware.

Myers’ back falls flat against the table, the current cutting off as abruptly as it began. The muscles in his chest continue to contract and seize beneath his skin long after the electricity is gone; you count the spasms as they tear through his pectorals like sets of waves.

When the spasming stops, his chest heaves up and down, winded. His breaths around the gag come heavily. His eyes are still shut; but no longer are they /squeezed/ shut.

For a moment, you really think that he’s passed out.

Then his eyes twitch beneath their lids and flutter open again. Blinking. Focusing—

—flitting right back on your face. Right back to the spot where he had left them before the current forced them shut.

Myers’ eyes are devoid of care. He is entirely unperturbed by what has just happened to him; entirely unthreatened. But now, that murderous intent—the charge which until now you’d only felt in the air around him—is written in his stare as plain as day.

I am going to kill you, says Michael’s gaze, as nonchalant as if he were stating some trivial fact about the universe, like water is wet, or the sky is blue.

It makes your blood boil.

Adding insult to injury, the speed at which Myers regains control of his body is nothing short of infuriating. You fume as you watch the way his breaths level out again, the beeping from his heart monitor falling back into the former slow, rhythmic pace.

You feel as though you should say something to him; like you should retaliate to this defiance in some way that isn’t staring, because you’ve already lost that battle; you cannot possibly hope to match the severity of Myers’ gaze.

But you don’t.

In your heart of hearts you know that your words will go right through his skull, unheard. There is only one language that Myers understands; only one language that he can comprehend down to his marrow. So you’ll speak it to him.

Without wasting another breath, your fingers find the power switch again. And those defiant eyes of his snap shut a second time.

When you shut the current off the results are the same as before; Myers is heaving on the table. But he takes back his control just as quickly, his stoicism prevailing.

By the third time however, his breaths have begun to linger in their heaviness—

—by the fourth he draws them as shallow as a winded sprinter running a race—

—by the fifth, the intervals between the violent seizing-up of his body are too brief for him to catch his breath—

—and the way he now gasps around the obstructing gag, fighting and failing to suck in air past its silicone, his nostrils flaring rapidly to compensate, is the most beautiful display of desperation that you have ever witnessed.

The sixth time you throw the switch, Myers actually does pass out.

When the current stops his body loses its tension with the abruptness of a cut wire. You wait impatiently for him to open his eyes again with your finger lingering over the switch, preparing to meet that steely gaze with another brutal jolt of electricity.

You wait; and Myers’ heart monitor chugs away like a freight train going up a hill.

Still waiting… waiting...

...and nothing happens. Myers is out cold.

The contentment now pulsing through your veins is what you imagine a shot of heroin feels like. Snapping on a fresh pair of gloves, you walk up to the side of the table to admire your work.

The first thing you notice is the sweat. Myers’ body is drenched in it. It beads up on his chest and clavicle, on his biceps and shoulders, on his brow and cheeks, the skin there flushing a shade of stark, exhausted pink. Gorgeous.

Your eyes travel down his body to continue the examination; you stop at his hands.

Myers’ hands are bloody.

Crescent-shaped cuts litter the skin of his palms, marking the place where his own blunt fingernails had dug in uncontrollably, over and over and over again. The fresh blood streaks in little rivulets down his hands and pools on the white padding of the table beneath.

You chew the inside of your lip as you stare at the mess; these cuts might be tricky to explain away. You’ll have to gauze them and tell Dr. Ashton that his patient did it to himself; maybe recommend that he be switched to a higher Thorazine dosage to really sell the lie.

Luckily, that’s a problem for the future. As for right now, you’re rather enjoying the irony of Myers’ own blood staining his hands for a change.

The inspection continues. Further down his body, you finally notice it; the bulge beneath the towel strewn across his pelvis.

Oh my god, he isn’t. You think, lifting the side of the towel for a peek.

And oh my god, he is.

Rather frustratingly, just like the rest of him, Myers is pretty down here, too. Pretty and big. Which is not a compliment, you reassure yourself. Just a medical observation. You let yourself stare this time, because you’re not ashamed anymore. You’re not threatened by the notion of admiring Myers’ physiology anymore.

Not when he’s so completely at your mercy.

Somehow, Myers doesn’t seem to be the masochistic type, so you highly doubt that actual arousal is responsible for this. Sheer adrenaline coupled with his frantically pumping heart are probably to blame, his brain mixing and misinterpreting the signals, resulting in this little accident.

The longer you stare down at the “accident,” the more you find yourself wondering what Myers would look like fully-erect.

You cannot rip the electrodes off his chest fast enough. Plucking the towel from waist and discarding it on the floor, you stick the two nodes down flat against his obliques, then hurry to rig up a third. That one you plant just above his penis; as close to its base as the curly dark hair will allow.

You stand with your finger ready on the go-button again, opting to let Myers’ still-racing pulse dip out of the red before you pull the trigger and plunge him back into hell. Bloodied hands you can explain away, but cardiac arrest? Not so much.

The beeping slows. The green lines on the monitor settle. You throw the switch.

Myers’ pelvis bucks uncontrollably up from the table—

—and he grunts.

The sound makes your heart sing. It is muffled by the gag, low and reverberating, not very loud to begin with. Most definitely not on purpose; just a reaction that’s managed to slip through while his barriers are down.

Myers’ groin is still quivering when you cut the current off. His cock stands upright, stiff and swollen, totally erect. A line of saliva now dribbles down the side of his mouth, trickling between the gag, collecting in a shimmering mess on his shoulder. He blinks sluggishly up at the ceiling light as if transfixed; still dazed, you would guess.

Something twisted occurs to you as you drink in the scene. Something that you can’t deny.

Seeing Myers like this—fighting for his very consciousness, struggling to retain some sliver of control—is the single most arousing thing you have ever witnessed. You want nothing more in the entire world than to climb onto this dangerous, wounded man’s hips and claim him.

You want nothing more than to give him a taste of what true powerlessness feels like.

It’s a lovely fantasy, a beautiful temptation, and a real shame that it can’t happen. You don’t feel like getting knocked up with the child of your sister’s murderer today; or ever, for that matter. Instead, you think you’ll make a game out of guessing how many more shocks will have Myers coming on his own thighs.

Striding up to the head of the table again, you plant your arms on either side of his shoulders, leaning over him, hardly ten inches from his face.

“Looks painful Myers.” You jest. “How about I make you a deal?”

Michael looks up at you. Unfocused. Blinking slowly.

“I flip the switch,” you continue,

“—and I keep it flipped until you’re covered in your own semen, and after that I jam a needle in your arm, pump you full of drugs, and you get to live out your next eight hours as an unfeeling fucking vegetable. Fair?”

You wait for Myers to do something. For your words to register in his brain. For some flicker of a response to let you know that he’s even still in there.

To your immense disappointment, Myers does nothing. Absolutely nothing. He just...

...well, you can’t even call it staring anymore.

He doesn’t seem able to manage that sort of focus, you realize, inspecting his face closer. His eyes are alarmingly barren; there really isn’t much of anything there, now. None of the ruthlessness, none of that predatory awareness, none of the murder.

You’ve actually shocked the bastard totally, one-hundred-percent out of it.

Whoops.

Back at the roll-around, you snatch up a hand light. Returning to the table, you shine it in his eyes, assessing the damage. His functioning pupil is slow to dilate. Worryingly slow. You click the light off with a contemplative frown.

Half of your mind begs whatever force might be listening that this isn’t a passing affliction, that whatever damage that’s done is done. If the courts insist on keeping Myers alive, then maybe reducing his brains to soup is what it takes to keep him docile. To keep him from hurting another living thing ever again. You can only hope.

As much as you’d love to do so, electrocuting the living daylights out of him some more isn’t likely to bring Myers back to awareness; and the session is supposed to be over soon.

You glance at the clock on the wall—

—Shit. Very soon.

You need to find out right the fuck now if you’ve just rendered Dr. Ashton’s patient catatonic.

Walking around the side of the table, you take Myers’ swollen cock in your gloved hand—trying not to think about the fact that you’re jacking off a condemned murderer—and pump hard, stroking him all the way from the shaft to the swollen tip, squeezing the head, massaging your thumb over it, rubbing all the way back down again.

“Come on, asshole,” you spit. “That can’t be all the fight you’ve got.”

Myers’ hips jerk slightly up from the table as you touch him. Probably just an involuntary reaction. You’ll need him to do better than that. Stroking him faster, squeezing even harder, you pray that the friction of your latex glove against his cock feels just about as pleasant as a rug burn.

As you watch his vacant face like a hawk you see him begin to blink harder, his eyes squeezing shut, twitching beneath their lids, staying closed for a beat before opening up again, like he’s struggling to wake from a deep sleep. A much more deliberate motion; he’s coming back to it.

“Can you feel that? Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”

He breathes hard around the gag. His knees lurch up from the table, the cuffs around his ankles straining, holding him in place.

You give his cock another hard squeeze.

“Forget where you are Myers?”

His jaw goes absolutely rigid with tension.

Ah. He heard you that time. He’s back.

How unfortunate that his brain isn’t fried after all.

You can see it all coming back now as his eyes flit down, locking on your face, rebooting within him like a program on a script; the chilling intensity, the sharpness, all the things that had made your skin crawl in the days past. Despite the torture, nothing at all about Myers’ demeanor has changed.

“Welcome back.” You state dryly. “We aren’t done yet.”

As if to make your blood boil on purpose—as if the battered state of his body means less to him than dirt, as if he hasn’t spent the better part of the hour being brutally, mercilessly tortured by you—

—Myers just watches you. Damning you with his eyes alone to the same grisly demise as before.

An odd sense of something, not quite admiration, sparks in your gut. Looking into Myers’ eyes, there is one single thing that you are willing to give this monster credit for:

What sits before you is a creature that cannot be broken. One that will never be dissuaded from its primal, violent nature. To try it is an impossible task. You suspect that you could stand in this room for days, flipping the same switch, delivering the same current, knocking him to and from consciousness, and into all the states in-between.

And the result would never change. Not ever.

He’d still be looking at you with that same deadly stare. A stare as cold and sharp as the blade of a carving knife.

And it would only get more piercing.

And what a relief it is that your goal in the first place was never to break Myers,

just to bring the gates of hell down on his pretty, curly head.

And you have. You can hear it in every breath he takes; he’s struggling. Although he draws his inhales slowly, with mechanical control, the ragged wheezing in his chest is no longer possible for him to hide. Myers is hurting—he’s hurting bad.

As much as you would love to stay and twist the knife in even deeper, it's time to wrap things up. You’re all out of time.

Pulling the electrodes from his groin and thighs with one hand, you let two of the nodes dangle freely off the side of the table.

The third you stick against his cock.

“Count your lucky fucking stars that not everyone in the world is as heartless as you are.” You tell him, walking back around to the E.S.T machine.

Myers follows you with eyes the entire way, stone-faced, impassive. Like the fact that you’ve just fastened a live wire to his dick is about as boring to him as watching paint dry.

Flick goes the switch.

His back arches off the table like a bent bow. He scrunches his eyes shut, breathing hard around the gag, tugging furiously at the cuffs, the muscles in his calves and biceps straining dangerously, pulling upwards with a brutish force that has table whining beneath him.

You’re transfixed as Michael comes. His mess shoots out in thick ropes, reaching further than you thought possible, coating the table, getting on his legs. The sheer power of his body is a stunning thing to witness. You keep the current running to milk him down to the very last drop.

When he stops coming, you power off the machine.

The node comes away from Michael’s skin in a “pop” that is all-too satisfying. Bundling all the wires and electrodes back into place on the machine you listen to the only measurable signs of the man’s distress; the tortured intake of his breaths, the elevated beeping of his heart monitor.

Then, picking up the needle from the little white tray, you cross back to Myers’ side.

The vein in his forearm is thick and pronounced and the needle slips in beautifully. You press slowly down on the plunger, grateful when he doesn’t try to yank his arm away, relieved when he accepts the drug without a struggle. He must be exhausted.

The sedative works its magic quickly. You pull up a stool and sit down beside him to watch.

The vitriol in his eyes begins to melt and soften. One by one his strained muscles are allowed to relax again, the tension ebbing away; from his jaw, his shoulders, his abdomen, his legs. The electronic beeping on the monitor slows and slows until its powerful rhythm beats steadily again.

Evidently, Michael has decided he isn’t ready to go under just yet. Though sleep pools in his eyelids he blinks it away, clinging in a death grip to his consciousness.

Just to leer at you. Just to picture in his mind the day he will have his hands around your throat; as if it is already set in stone. As if it is just a matter of when.

Then, Michael’s eyelids flutter—

—fighting to stay open, still staring—

—closing, for just a beat too long—

—lingering shut—

—staying shut.

You move to clean him up quickly. The gag comes out first. Lifting his head to unbuckle the strap, you tug out the black ball, letting his strained jaw fall shut again for the first time in an hour; then carelessly drop his head. It thunks satisfyingly as it comes down hard against the table. Glancing at the gag’s silicone, you notice the deep markings worn into it, perfect impressions of Myers’ top and bottom teeth. You almost shudder; a bite from him would have been nasty.

You blot away the drool dribbling down his chin and shoulder with a rag, and then move on.

The last thing you expect as you begin to clean Michael’s bloodied hands is the tears that spring to your eyes. Even with your fear of the man gone and buried, you wish that you didn’t have to touch these awful hands; let alone treat them, bandage them, heal them.

You wipe away the tears on your sleeve as you gather your supplies together on the roll-around.

Grabbing each of his wrists just above the restraint cuffs and turning them so that his palm is facing upward on the table, you hastily swab him down with alcohol pads, wiping up the clotting blood from his skin, squeezing out a blob of antiseptic from a tube to smear across his cuts. As you wrap Michael’s palms tightly in gauze you try your hardest to snuff out that invasive thought when it comes searing like a bullet through your skull—

—these are the hands that killed my sister.

You simply can’t afford to linger on those thoughts right now. Maybe when you’re at home tonight, alone in your bed, you will let yourself cry; but not now. Not while you still need to clean up after Myers’ unfortunate mishap.

Toweling him down from his forehead to his calves, you soak away the sweat. And the semen. Then, you fasten back up the front of his hospital gown, knotting each and every tie.

And just like that, the job is done.

You knock on the door. The guards come in and wheel Myers’ unconscious body out of the room.

The next day, you have a debriefing session with Dr. Ashton. You feed him your meticulously rehearsed lie: that the therapy went without a hiccup, that you firmly believe this treatment could be the key to alleviating Michael’s tendencies for violence.

The moron laps up your every word.

Ashton ends the session with a delightful little surprise; he’s pulled some strings to allow for Michael’s therapy to be carried out bi-weekly. He is so impressed by your drive to treat his patient that he’s offering you a position as Michael’s secondary caretaker. He only hopes that you’ll accept.

The smile you give him is bright and sincere, one that beams from ear to ear.

“Doctor, believe me when I say that nothing in the world would make me happier.”

#Michael Myers #Halloween #Slashers #michael myers x reader #writing

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

Text

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 5 Part 3

Hello all, here I am, once again, presenting you with more of Midnight Striga. Thank you for your consideration.

Eda grumbled, awkwardly shifting in her seat. The fact that she was stuck here, in this den of propaganda and conformity grated on every fiber of her being. Still, the chance to loot this place after the fact was incredibly enticing, feeling herself grin at the thought. Glancing to the kids next to her, Eda took stock of what Luz had shared about them; the Plant Girl had serious power to her, enough to wipe the floor with full adults if she felt like it, and the Illusion Boy was a genuine prodigy, something rare, much like herself. ‘It made sense they would end up in Luz’s odd gravity,’ she mused. As the lights started to dim, signalling the start, Eda grumbled again, longing for it to end.

Bump strode forth to his place on the terrace, raising a mic to his face. “Ladies and Gentlemen! Witches and demons of all ages!” His voice boomed, echoing across the excited crowd. “It is my pleasure,” ‘Suck it up and think of the funding Bump, think of the funding!’ “To present to you… The Emperor’s Coven!!” With an explosion of fog and light, three Guards sauntered forth, with one even launching themselves into the air for the spectacle. Bump groaned internally at the theatrics, reminding himself once again of the funding this would net him and the school. The crowd roared.

“Now, I must ask you, do you all wish to know what the pinnacle of magic is?” He called out, hamming it up.

“Is it this!?” One of Bump’s students, one of the transfers from Glandus if he recalled correctly, excitedly shouted, before magically enlarging their head, collapsing on another student and prompting chuckles from his group.

“Wow, I have failed you as a principal.” Bump bluntly stated at the off-putting sight, not entirely sure how to process it. Brushing the uncomfortable moment aside, Bump regained his momentum. “No, it stands before you! The Emperor’s Coven possesses the ability to use not one, not two, but ALL Forms of magic!!” He boldly proclaimed, as the guards below unleashed dazzling displays of power. Privately, after his conversation that day of Boscha’s brief rampage, Bump wasn’t too sure about the Emperor’s personal followers being the pinnacle they were described as.

“Whoo! Luz, did you see that!” Gus excitedly yelled, bouncing up and down in his seat.

“Eh.” Luz shrugged her shoulders, before critiquing the group below. “Powerful, but overly flashy, and not particularly quick. Wasteful of energy, and not much technique that I can see. I give it a 6 out of 10.” She clinically listed off, marking each point with a raised finger, raising an extra finger to give the score, resulting in Gus and Willow deflating over her disinterest.

Oblivious to the musings of those who had started the change that was slowly encroaching Bonesburough, and the Isles at large, Bump continued his presentation. “And now, it is my honor to present to you,” and this time he wasn’t just speaking out of his rear, “an individual who stands at the top. You know her,” light and mist pooled around his feet, “you love her,” a massive, translucent raven cawed and swooped down next to him, tucking into itself, “give it up for Emperor’s Coven Head, Lilith Clawthorne!!” The raven burst away, revealing Lilith standing next to him as he quickly stepped back, wearing the traditional cloak of the EC and a stylized mask, black-painted lips quirked up in a smile.

Eda choked on her drink (that she’d stolen), desperately sucking for air. She eeked out a hushed, “Lily?”

“You know her?” Luz asked, Willow and Gus sparing Eda a glance of light concern.

Eda gave a resigned nod. “She’s my sister.” This elicited widened eyes from the three, and Eda just knew they’d be asking questions afterward. Ugh.

Lilith walked up to the front of the terrace, mildly glad for her former principal’s presence and his glowing introduction, she would NEVER admit it aloud but she always gained the worst jitters when it came to public speaking, even if she was skilled in it. She smoothly pulled away her mask, allowing her features to be seen and admired by the crowd. She felt a smug glow of satisfaction over her looks, before focusing on the present situation. “Citizens of the Boiling Isles!!” Her voice boomed, a neat little trick she had learned for just these sorts of situations. “I am proud to stand before you today, humbled by the exaltation you have displayed.” She gave an elaborate bow, prompting a roar of enthusiasm from the crowd.

“It wasn’t easy to rise as far as I have. I too started from humble beginnings.” This prompted some muttering from the assembled crowd, particularly from those students who were themselves from rather humble backgrounds. “But now, I possess the highest honor of enforcing the Emperor’s will!” An honor that would all be worth it when he saved her sister, her stubborn, arrogant, bleeding-heart sister. “And today, I am pleased to present my protege!” She announced, raising her hand. In a burst of light, there she stood. “Amity Blight!” As the crowd went wild, she allowed her student to bask in it, a smirk playing across her face at the barely hidden giddiness. “She has taken the steps to excel, to ascend to the highest level! Work hard, and the Emperor’s Coven awaits you!” She shouted, slamming her staff down, and with a flash, she and Amity vanished into the depths of the Center, the crowd crowing in delight behind them.

Smirking, she and Amity waltzed into the main area of the center, watching in satisfaction as the excited crowd poured from the stadium area. Turning to her with gleaming eyes, Amity said. “That was amazing Miss Lilith! You were incredible out there.” She said with a grin, before turning serious. “I must ask, when will our next lesson take place?”

Lilith hid a smirk. The girl was eager, ambitious, skilled, and dedicated; even just one of those traits would serve her well in life, but all? She would truly be a monster to contend with as she grew older. She just needed to look into subtlety a bit more. “I believe I can schedule a lesson to take place in a weeks time, sometime around the weekend. If that’s acceptable of course.” She raised an eyebrow. She knew it would be, but politeness and social expectations existed for a reason.

Amity gave a solemn nod. “Of course. I will take my leave.” She said, walking off into the crowd, entering from the area containing those who had not exited the stadium, a smart way to avoid being mobbed by the crowd.

“Take care, Amity Blight.” Lilith murmured. “It would not do for your potential to be cut short.” With her musings over, she wandered into the main body of the Covention, prepared to meet and greet her public. Ah, the sacrifices made for a life such as hers.

Amity wandered through the center, idly taking note of the various Covens that had set up today. None truly interested her, but seeing the dedication on display, the willingness to restrict oneself so deeply in pursuit of one’s personal passions was admirable in its own way. She wondered what path she would’ve taken, had she not been born a Blight; would she still have this intense drive to excel, or would she be content with simpler things? She would never truly know, but it was an interesting thought. Lost in her musings, she was rightfully started when she crashed into someone.

As she fell, Amity caught a glimpse of the person who had also taken a plunge in their collision, and her eyes widened. Chocolaty brown skin. Smooth, swirled brunette hair. A light blue shirt with a stylized picture of a cat, tucked beneath a hybrid vest and jacket of gleaming white with a climbing vine decal. Well worn beige pants, and sporty looking shoes. Wide expressive eyes. And, most telling, rounded ears. In a flash, Amity had essentially memorized her appearance. Now if only she could puzzle out why she had done so…

With a small gasp of slight pain, Amity crashed to the ground, the human girl doing so not a second later. Growling at the discomfort, Amity quickly moved to her feet, wrestling control from her temper before it reacted over an accident. “Oh man, I am so sorry for that.” The human groaned, clambering to her feet. Stretching herself out briefly, the girl gave Amity a discerning look, before familiarity dawned on her. “Oh yeah, you were at the school that day! Amity, right?” She asked, holding out a hand for a shake.

Amity glanced at the hand, and briefly contemplated not shaking, before stifling the impulse, giving the girl a firm grip. “Indeed. I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced, however.” She said, cocking an eyebrow. She gave a shallow bow. “I am Amity Blight, youngest of the Blight family and heir-apparent of our name and company, Blight Industries. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She recited, keeping the kind of bland, formal tone you’d expect from a meeting between politicians, prompting a mild look of surprise from Luz.

The human grinned, almost amused, much to Amity’s confusion. “Well, Miss Blight, it is a pleasure to officially meet you when you aren’t acting like a bitch.” She said bluntly, but without a hint of malice or mocking that Amity could detect.

Amity awkwardly clutched her shirt, feeling small at the reminder of her conduct from that day, however lacking in harshness that reminder was. “Indeed. Speaking of which, may I know your name?” She requested.

The human arched an eyebrow, but shrugged, agreeing. “Eh, why not. The name’s Luz Noceda. Why did you ask?”

Amity internally sighed in relief that she’d be able to finish part of her mission so quickly. “For this.” Stepping back, Amity once again bowed, this time a full bow at the waist, head parallel to the ground. “Luz Noceda, I, Amity Blight, offer my sincerest apologies for my conduct towards you prior to today. I allowed anger, suspicion, and bias to cloud my judgement, but that is no excuse for what I said to you. I was dismissive, rude, and judgmental. If my apology is insufficient, I will do anything within reason to make amends.” Amity shut her eyes tight, desperately begging to the Titan that she wouldn’t be ridiculed, that her words would be accepted. The fact that this was so public… it burned her, how many people might try and hurt her with this.

“Aw man, could you get up? There’s no need for that.” Amity cracked an eye open, spying Luz’s sardonic expression.

“I beg your pardon?” Amity started.

“Look,” Luz began, giving a loose shrug, “I’ve been called way worse before by much more horrible people than you. Was I mad when you said those things? Oh absolutely. But, I got over it, because it wasn’t worth holding a grudge against someone who probably ended up regretting it, if they hadn’t already regretted it after saying it, and had been punished enough. You okay with just forgetting about it all?”

Amity huffed, amused at Luz’s candidness. “Very well.” Her face grew serious. “However, I would like to make a request, if it isn’t too presumptuous of me.”

“Oh?” Luz mused, cocking her head. “That depends on what your request is.”

“What are you?” Amity asked, Luz pulling up short, dumbfounded. Amity continued on. “I know you’re human. But strange things have surrounded you. You helped Willow gain an immense increase in skill after just a short conversation, and was able to oversee her application of her new skill level. You were able to survive a confrontation against Boscha while she was wielding those flames. And there have been rumors about someone matching your expression appearing around town.” She slowly walked around Luz, allowing herself to gain a better look all around. “I want answers for the mysteries surrounding you. Please.” She finished, fixing a strong, unwavering stare on Luz.

Luz sighed, scratching her head. “Ugh, fine, but it’ll cost you.” She said, opening a single eye to look at Amity.

Amity nodded firmly. “How much.” She had told herself she wouldn’t be leaving the girl without answers, and even if her mother was annoyed at the expense, it would be well worth it to give Amity peace of mind.

“An apology.”

Amity paused, perplexed. “But I already gave you one?”

Luz shook her head, elaborating. “Not for me. For Willow. If you want answers, you have to apologize to Willow.”

Amity gave a smirk. “Well lucky for me I was already planning on doing just that.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Provided she grants me an apology as well.”

“Huh, looks like things’ll work out pretty easily! She wanted to give you one too.”

“In that case, I see no reason we shouldn’t look for her. Care to join me?” Amity finished, gesturing for Luz to follow her. Shrugging, the human girl followed the witch through the crowd, unaware of the elongated figure looming in the shadows.

Eda stormed through the Covention, nimble fingers snatching up odds and ends as she shifted through the crowd, looking for her quarry. As she finished stashing the last of her loot in her hair, her eyes sharpened, spotting her target. Gliding forth, she stopped dead center in front of her prey.

“Hey Lily.” Eda grinned, all teeth.

“Ah, Edalyn!” Lilith drawled, pulling herself up from where she had been signing a little Witchling’s poster. “You came after all!” She placed a hand under her chin, looking smug. “Still rooting around in the trash in that shack of yours?” She chuckled at her little ‘joke.’

Eda rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah, real funny.” Getting an idea, she leaned over to the kids, she whispered. “Hey, did you kids know Lily used to wet her bed until she was-”

“Edalyn!” Lilith yelped in embarrassment as the children giggled.

Eda smirked, before pulling out her wallet (one of them anyway), and gave each child a small snail bill. “Hey, why don’t you kids all get yourselves a treat and go back to your parents, okay?” As the children eagerly nodded, rushing off, she turned to Lilith, her smile dropping into cool seriousness.

“Ugh, what do you want, Edalyn?” Lilith scoffed, folding her arms. Suddenly, she blinked, eyes brightening. “Unless… you’re finally here to join the Coven!” She cheered, a childish delight gleaming in her eyes.

“No.” Eda flatly stated.

“Oh.” Lilith said just as flatly, her excitement dead already. “Well, in that case-”

“I learned something pretty interesting, Lily.” Eda began, grabbing her sister’s attention. “About how the Emperor’s Coven presented what happened to me to the public.”

Lilith felt her blood chill; she had never really agreed with that decision, but it had been out of her hands. If Edalyn was bringing this up now… “And this holds bearing, how?” She asked, trying to play it off.

“I want you to set the record straight, Lily.” Eda said, a note of barely contained fury in her voice. “Now. If not sooner.”

Lilith reeled back. “I couldn’t possibly do such a thing! It is the Emperor’s Will!”

“Nuts to the Emperor, Lily!!” Eda shouted, slamming her fist against the wall nearest to them. “He used my pain, my trauma, my public humiliation as a way to get people to fall in line. I hate the Coven System, but I’m willing to accept that for most people, they choose to be a part of it. But using what happened to me as a way of scaring kids into falling in step!? I won’t stand for it!!”

“It’s not my decision to make, Edalyn.” Lilith coldly replied. “And really, you have no one but yourself to blame; if you just joined a Coven all that silliness would just drift away.” She firmly replied, internally begging that Edalyn would finally see reason, to agree with her, to admit she was right!!!

Eda paused. Then she chuckled. “Okay. I really didn’t want to do this. But! It looks like you aren’t giving me a real choice.” With a sigh, Eda stepped back, just enough to where she could point at Lilith at full extension. “Lilith Clawthorne, I challenge you to a Witch’s Duel.”

Nearby Witches and Demons gasped, reeling back, even as Lilith herself blinked in shock.

“Edalyn, you can’t possibly be serious!” She said, shock still coursing through her body.

“The terms are as follows,” Eda said, steadfastly ignoring the increasing mutters of the crowd. “If I win, you have to publicly admit the truth behind my curse, not that crap the Emperor peddles. If you win, I’ll join Bonehead’s little club.” She finishes, crossing her arms in defiance.

“Edalyn, you can’t be-” Lilith starts, only to cut herself off with a choke, as Eda formed the glowing white circle of an unbreakable vow, already sticking her hand through. “You really are serious.” Lilith breathes out.

“I am.” Eda says grimly. Staring at her sister’s hand trepidatiously, Lilith’s eyes flash with fear, shock, longing, pride, and finally, determination. Reaching out, she joins hands with her sister, for the first time in years… and completes the vow. The duel is officially on.

“A Witch’s Duel, eh?” A cold voice mutters in the dark, shadowed figures lurking behind them. “Well, won’t that be a fun way to start this operation.” They chuckled, their entourage cackling behind them, the cooling corpse of a Coven Guard behind them.

#the owl house #fairy tail #owl house au #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #eda clawthorne #lilith clawthorne #luz noceda #principal bump #willow park #gus porter #amity blight #magic

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bernadineisreborn · 4 years

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Reality V

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Author’s note: Heyyyy, I’m back!!! *lowers eyes in shame* Anyway, I am continuing this story thanks to the inspiration I received after reading almost all of @acciodracoo ’s stories (thanks, btw!) I don’t remember what my initial vision for this was, but I am pretty sure it’s quite different now, and that’s okay. Also, the reader is officially a Ravenclaw because it was necessary for plot. Thanks and enjoy reading! –Bernadine

Warnings: Swearing/vulgarity, not-canon-ness

Word count: 1636 :)

Series Masterlist

You needed to talk to Trelawney. Yes, you knew she was crazy and irrational and, maybe, probably, a bit of an alcoholic, but there wasn’t anyone else who could help. You briefly wished you could ask Marcus to go with you, but he’d been an absolute dick earlier, and there was no way you were going to approach him for help.

But, now, you had to focus on dinner, and detention with Slughorn afterwards.

Malfoy, of course, would be there, and you were in no mood to deal with his moodiness or his bullying.

You head for the Dining Hall reluctantly, dreading the inevitability of seeing Marcus, wondering if you’d be eating alone.

You did have other friends, but none as close as Marcus. Until now, there hadn’t been a need for other people to talk to. Marcus knew everything about you. His parents had been friends with yours during their years at Hogwarts, and you and Marcus had grown up spending every summer alternating your time in between each other’s houses. You were so similar; you just clicked. Both the only child and both exceptionally intelligent, in your own ways.

So, when you trudged into the Dining Hall and locked eyes with Marcus, who’s expression looked notably apologetic, it was not easy for you to turn toward the girls you dormed with, and ask to eat with them instead.

“Hello. Do you guys have room for me to sit?”

Mandy Brocklehurst and Sue Li turned their heads and looked at you. Mandy met your eyes with glee as she scooted to make room for you to sit, “Sure, Y/N! Not sitting with Marcus today?” Her eyes shifted down the table, where Marcus was eating with a distinctive look of displeasure on his face.

You shook your head, and sat down, “No, we got into a bit of a fight earlier.”

Sue nodded knowingly, “I’ve noticed it too, Y/N. He’s distancing himself from you.”

You frowned at her a bit. Mandy and Sue were, like most Ravenclaws, a bit weird. You were, however, a bit weird as well, and willing to accept the weirdness and move on, so you just gave her a resigned shrug.

“Y/N would rather not talk about it Sue,” said Mandy, shooting Sue a not so subtle glance, “Anyway, how have things been with you? It’s been forever since we’ve chatted.”

You spent the rest of dinner talking gratefully to Sue and Mandy. Sue, a half-blood witch, was graced with silky black hair and kind eyes. She was rather short and thin, but you’d seen her casting spells in class, and she could clearly hold her own. Mandy, on the other hand, had wavy, chestnut-colored hair and hazel eyes. She was taller than Sue, and quite popular with the boys for her figure. Both of them were rather pretty, you noticed, and by time dinner was over, you were remembering why you hadn’t spent more time with them: they made you feel exceptionally average.

“I was just about to jinx the bitch, but instead I tripped and fell at her feet. I was so embarrassed, and Sue just stood there and didn’t help at all!” laughed Mandy as she finished another story, and you laughed along, enjoying yourself quite a bit and successfully forgetting about both Marcus and Malfoy.

It was only when you happened to glance up and see Draco standing that you remembered. You watched him leave the room, robes billowing behind him, and excused yourself, “Ugh. I’ve got to go to detention with Slughorn…and Malfoy,” you said, rolling your eyes to Sue and Mandy.

“For being late today? Hm, rather harsh for Slughorn, don’t you think, Mandy?” asked Sue, a sympathetic look in her dark eyes.

Mandy nodded her head, expression scandalized, “Yes, I do. Though, I suppose he is rather traditional. And he doesn’t seem to like Malfoy much.”

“Hopefully Malfoy doesn’t murder me while we do whatever menial task ol’ Sluggy deems appropriate,” you mused. Sue and Mandy giggled, and you continued, “He seems a bit off lately, yeah?”

Mandy nodded again, “Draco has been a tad crueler than usual, yes.” You considered telling them about what happened in the hallway a few weeks ago, when you had seen him crying by himself, but something told you that it would be better kept between you and him.

“Well, anyway, I’ll see you later!”

They waved cheerily as you scurried away, nervous once again about the evening when the effects of Sue and Mandy had worn off.

You walked down the halls quickly, and by time you had arrived in Slughorn’s classroom, it was 7:30 pm. Draco was standing by Slughorn’s desk, and Slughorn was bent over, rifling through a drawer in his desk.

“I know I’ve put it in here somewhere, Mr. Malfoy, don’t worry,” he muttered as he searched frantically.

Draco, unsurprisingly, did not look a bit concerned with whatever object Slughorn was desperate to find. His blonde eyebrows were pinched and his lips were pursed, an expression that displayed mild annoyance with the professor.

As you approached, you called, “Why not try an accio spell, Professor?”

Draco and Slughorn turned toward you, Draco raised an elegant eyebrow and Slughorn looked perturbed, as usual.

“Oh, hello Miss L/N. While that is an excellent idea, this particular item is enchanted so that it does not respond to the accio charm.”

Draco huffed, as if you had been dumb to suggest this, and your cheeks tinted red, “Sorry, Professor.”

“No need to apologize, Miss L/N,” He stands upright, a small, rusty gold key in his hand, “I’ve found it! Alright then, let’s get you two to work.” With this, he shuffled to the back of the classroom, you and Draco following suit, where there was a door that you had never seen be opened before. He thrust the small key into the door’s lock, revealing a cramped room full of labeled vials that you recognized as various potion ingredients.

“Ah, yes. This is our master ingredient room, where Hogwarts stores all of the potions and potion ingredients not used regularly for classes. The regularly used ones, as you know, are stored in the cabinet just there,” he gestured behind you, “For your detention, I’d like you to condense these vials. There may be repeat vials with the same ingredients, I just need you to organize them into larger containers and sort them.”

Your eyes swept across the rows, there was no way you would have this finished in one night.

Just as you were about to protest, Draco spoke up, “Professor Slughorn, sir,” his grey eyes were clouded and his nostrils flared, “Forgive me, but I don’t see how we can have this done in one night.”

Slughorn nodded vaguely, “Yes, I suppose it might take more than a few days, it hasn’t been organized since before I started teaching years ago, as far as I know. Might teach you a lesson about tardiness, hmm?” He chuckled under his breath, “You can continue working each night until it’s done, then,” he made eye contact with you and Draco, ��Well, get working, I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

With that he trotted off, leaving you standing in the tiny room with a clearly agitated Draco.

“Erm, I guess I’ll start on this side,” you pointed to the shelf closest to you, “and we can meet in the middle?”

Draco’s fists were clutched tightly at his sides, and his eyes were narrowed, focused away from you blankly at the shelf in front of him.

You cleared your throat, “Erm… Malfoy?”

His eyes shifted over to you. For a split second, you could have sworn his expression was panicked. Then, his brow hardened and he turned away, “Fine.”

The next half-hour was filled with only the sound of tinkling glass bottles being rearranged. You turned around, wondering how far Draco’d gotten. His back was facing you, broad and tall, robes perfectly ironed. His platinum hair was perfectly styled, even from the back.

He must have felt you looking, because he turned around and looked you up and down with narrowed eyes, “Spying on me again, are you?” His tone seemed less hostile than earlier, and you cleared your throat and turned back to your shelf.

“Of course not, just wondering how far you’d gotten,” you replied.

Your mind wandered as you worked, and you came to think about the box Draco had been lugging around during Potions. Silence filled the air a few minutes more before curiosity got the better of you, “So, what was the box for? Earlier, I mean?”

Draco tensed, and glanced back at you, not that you saw. Your eyes were locked on the shelf in front of you, which you had barely managed to condense in the 30 minutes you’d had already.

His tone flipped again, “None of your business,” he snarled.

“Well I’d say it’s my business if you getting it caused both of us to be stuck in here together,” you retorted.

At this, Draco turned around, “What’d I say about being nosey, L/N?”

You turned too, and were surprised to find him, once again, inches away from you in an attempt at intimidation. You could feel his breath hitting your face as his chest heaved dramatically.

Reluctantly, you backed down, “Fine. I was just curious. Seemed important.”

Draco emitted a grunt, and you both went back to working in silence.

Another hour or so later, Slughorn returned and bid you goodnight, allowing you to return to your dorms for the night.

Draco bowed his head to Slughorn in begrudging respect, “Thank you, sir.”

You followed him out of the classroom. He turned towards the Dungeons without looking at you, and rushed off.

This was sure to be a fun week.

----

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added): @drawlfoy @buckys-hoeee @silversslytherin @acciodracoo @afootnoteinyourhappiness

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mysweetestcreature · 4 years

Text

Tomorrow Never Knows (President!Harry) Chapter 12: All I Want for Christmas

***

Author’s note: Hiiiiii, so I honestly have no idea what happened to the post scheduled for earlier, but Tumblr has always been a little b*tch so I’m not surprised lmao. This version isn’t as well edited as the one that disappeared, so please excuse any slips (it’s late and I’m kind of drunk so teehee). ANYWAY! Happy Holidays, everyone! Thank you so much for everything you do for me. From the bottom of my heart, I love you all :’)

***

Masterlist

***

Saturday December 13, 2008

With the holiday season comes all things festive; from brilliant and twinkling lights wrapped around post lamps, to an army of nutcracker statuettes that line town square, and finally that wishful little mistletoe hung above a few select archways and unsuspecting doorframes. There’s a different attitude that floats in the air during this time of year, an unexplainable elation swirled in with a dash of mild intensity.

You’ll never see more people in one place than at the mall, when everyone is on a mission to find that perfect gift, maybe even the perfect outfit for the office Christmas party with the cheap wine, or something of a school dance that may or may not be the social event of the year (unless you’re a senior, then prom is most definitely the only thing to look forward to).

“Why can’t I see it?” Harry pouts, peeking into the gaps of the brown Bloomingdale’s paper bag.

She rolls her eyes; this is probably the eighth time in twenty minutes he’s asked her. For some reason he’d been under the impression that he’d get to see her try it on. Much to his dismay (but to her amusement), however, it had been a quick and easy pick up from the alterations department on the third floor. “Because I’m your girlfriend, and I said you can’t.”

Harry frowns slightly, eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t really see a correlation between those two statements, although. . .” He backs her against a wall, hands finding their place on the curves of her hips. A cheeky grin replaces his former expression, dimples making their indents on either side of his mouth. “I do like it when you call yourself my girlfriend.”

Humming, she tilts her head to the side and wraps her arms around his middle. He swallows when she grazes the tip of her nose to his, his mouth parting in anticipation. They’re close enough that he can easily smell her strawberry lip balm. “Yeah?” she speaks meekly. The radiant look in her eyes makes his heart beat thrice its usual rhythm. He nods in response, just about ready to lean down.

Of course, timing has never been their strongest point, and Harry’s phone rings annoyingly from the pocket of his North Face. He sighs, dropping his head down, eyes squeezing shut when he sees the name lit up on the screen. “Are you gonna answer that, or should I?” Y/n giggles, snatching his cell from between his fingers. He shakes his head and pleads her not to pick it up, but she flips the cover open and brings it right to her ear. “Hi, Anne!”

There’s a string of mumbles from under his breath. He had assumed that they’d be free from interruptions once they’d finally gotten together, but time and time again (an average of three times a week, he’s noticed) there’s always someone out to mess with him. The other day, Mason had squirmed his way between them while they were cuddled up under her favorite fluffy blanket, and Harry had only taken notice when he turned to peck her on the cheek only to end up with half his face covered in peanut butter frosting (his girlfriend––and he really can’t stress enough how happy the title makes him––thought it was absolutely hilarious).

“Yeah, we’re just about finished. . .” She playfully pushes his face to the side when he gives her another pout. “Okie dokie, we’ll be out in a sec. . .see you in a bit!” The call ends with the clap of the main screen against the keypad. She gives him a toothy grin and rises to the tips of her toes to press a gentle kiss to the side of his mouth. “Let’s go?”

***

She’s on her bed when Cici barges into her room, a tote full of clothes hanging off her shoulder that she then drops by the closet door. “Where’s your knight with shining curls?” her best friend snorts as she plops herself down on her bed. She’d texted earlier saying that she would be hiding at the Y/l/n residence to escape the arrogance of her visiting aunt’s family.

Y/n looks up from flipping through her latest issue of Teen Vogue. “I think he should be here quarter of.” He’d left over two hours ago to help his mom and sister decorate their Christmas tree.

“I see you got your dress,” Cici notices, reaching for the bag by her nightstand. She pulls the stapled edges apart with an approving look from Y/n, then pulls out the garment until the bag falls back to the floor. “Oh damn!” she whistles, kneeing the mattress as she holds it up. “Has Harry seen this yet?”

“I’ve literally done everything in my power to avoid that,” she mutters, falling back against her pile of pillows. The implications of not going to the dance with her boyfriend hadn’t registered with her until yesterday when Zoey had showed him the exact corsage that she wanted him to get her. Now she feels almost sick thinking about Zoey’s perfectly manicured and deadly nails racking around her boyfriend’s body while she forces him to dance. And maybe that’s why she doesn’t want Harry to see her dress just yet, she wants to surprise him the day of because the petty part of her wants to send Zoey a clear message.

Cici snorts loudly, laying down next to her, and both girls just stare up at the ceiling. “If you want my honest opinion, I think you should just go together. So, what if a few people get butt hurt? Do you really want to see that bitch try to make moves on him?”

“Obviously not, but. . .” she lets out a long sigh. “Jasper.” She keeps having to remind herself that she’s Jasper’s date, and it just wouldn’t be fair to him if she were to be an absent companion. “He keeps saying how excited he is for this, and I don’t know Ci. I don’t have the heart to tell him that I don’t want to go formal with him, let alone that the reason being that I want to go with my boyfriend of what? Two weeks now?” She’s given this whole lot of thought, really, she has! Sure, the easiest solution would be to call off her date with Jasper, but she doesn’t want him to think that he was only a stand in for Harry until they finally admitted their feelings. No one should be subjected to that kind of impairing thought.

“You’re being way being too nice––maybe the pope will canonize you one day. ‘Saint Y/n’ patron saint of the criminally kind.”

She pulls a pillow from behind and whacks the side of her friend’s head, who then whacks her back with just as much force. “Stop being so dramatic, this isn’t Gossip Girl.”

“And it’s a travesty,” Cici tuts, but her eyes start to twinkle as she loses herself in thought. “If it were, I’d be Mrs. Nathaniel Fitzwilliam Archibald by now. Don’t you think Chace Crawford and I would make the most beautiful babies?”

“They’ll have the best eyebrows, that’s for sure.”

“Right!?”

***

Friday December 19, 2008

The last day before the winter formal––and furthermore the last day until winter break–– and it’s all the students of Ashwood can talk about. At every turn, all that can be heard is who’s attending with who or what designer their dress is from. Almost all of their classes have resorted to study halls since apparently no one can stay focused for more than five minutes at a time, which really is stupid since midterms are scheduled only two weeks after they come back.

On the plus side, since they’re screening Home Alone 2 in Spanish, it at least distracts the rest of the class while she and Harry giggle to themselves in the back-left corner of the room. During the beginning of their relationship, they had at least tried to remain discreet so as to avoid all the theories of conspiracy from the school’s notorious gossips over at the Ashwood Almanac. As the final days of the year dwindle down, however, all precautions to keep everything on the down-low have disintegrated, and they’ve probably shared a few not-so-private (though none have ever been in front of a grand audience. . .about five people, max) smooches when they part ways after a long history lesson with Mr. Noone.

“As in right in the nuts?” he laughs through the question, his arm wrapped around the back of her chair as his fingers tread through loose locks. She’s telling him all about how Mason had thrown a snowball, which had actually ended up having a moderately sized rock lodged in there somehow, directly between Jeremy’s legs. And yeah, he does feel bucket loads of sympathy because he can’t even count how many times he’s had a football to the groin in his years of being an athlete, but he’s more so charmed by how animated she is when she talks about her family.

“I don’t know how he did it, but then Dad went completely cross-eyed when it hit him. Like this.” For a split second, she’s able to mimic his reaction and it has him trying to contain his amusement with her shoulder before Señora Gustavo can scold them for being too disruptive.

After a few moments settled within a comfortable silence, enough time for them to let Jeremy’s many woes fade from consciousness, their eyes meet again, and he just smiles at her. It’s one of those sappy lovesick smiles that would have surely made her knees buckle had she not already been sitting down.

“So, Mum’s Christmas Eve party, you’re all going, right?” he asks, his thumb grazing the side of her arm. For as long as he can remember, Anne’s been hosting this party every year without fail. He supposes it started when she and his dad were still together––maybe even before then––since he’s seen pictures from the early nineties before even Gemma was born. Even when they’d moved to the States, his mum has always been the sociable sort, so during that first year away from Holmes Chapel had been filled with the company of their neighbors and over a dozen of her colleagues. This time around, Harry’s excitement is beyond a scale’s capacity because his granddad is flying in to celebrate with them. After all their long phone calls, he’ll finally be able to introduce him to the girl he’s been gushing over for months.

Y/n nods eagerly. “And I already know what I’m making,” she says. There were a few options that she toyed with before falling asleep until ultimately deciding on one special dessert that she sure hopes will be a crowd pleaser come the 24th. It’s something that in theory she knows how to make, but it’ll require a few test runs and backups since she’s aiming for nothing less than perfection. “Your mom mentioned it during Thanksgiving, so I really hope she’ll like it!”

“Don’t want you going through too much trouble. Mum will like anything you make. Went on and on about those pumpkin spice cookies you brought around the house Sunday.”

“I know, but. . .” Her lips curl inward and trap themselves between her teeth. She looks down into her lap, fingers messing with a stray thread where her skit had been hemmed. “I just. . .I don’t know. Do you think she’s mad––okay, not mad, but you know. . .annoyed––at me for the whole Jasper-Zoey thing? You keep saying it isn’t, but it’s a hundred percent my fault that we’re not going together.”

“Baby, no. Don’t say that,” Harry frowns, and he doesn’t realize the new endearment to have tumbled off the tip of his tongue. “This whole dance thing doesn’t mean anything anyway, and it definitely doesn’t change this.” He gestures between the two of them, a lopsided smile spread from cheek to cheek.

Her eyes narrow as she crosses her arms. “You’re being all cheesy because you want me to kiss you again.”

A loud scoff erupts from the back of his throat, and Señora Gustavo glares up from her laptop to give him another warning. There’s a moment when his face impersonates annoyance (but his arm still remains around her frame), and he begrudgingly turns his attention to Kevin McCallister wreaking havoc on his two unmatched foes. She does the same, but from the corner of her eye she sees the way his mouth plays with his words. In her head, she counts backwards from five, holding in a smirk as the numbers dwindle down. Harry pouts to himself, before he turns back to her.

“Are my chances high, at least?”

***

Saturday December 20, 2008

“Sweetheart, you look so beautiful!” Liv gushes as she brushes Y/n’s hair back, standing behind her in front of the vanity’s mirror. Y/n looks at herself carefully, her lips pulled up but pressed firmly together. The day has finally arrived, and she doesn’t think she can feel any more anxious than she does right now. Half her hair is pulled back while the rest is curled into the soft waves that fall just beneath her shoulders. Her dress is hung to the side, the sequins almost blinding as they reflect in the bathroom light.

They’d spent the last two hours doing her hair and makeup, which Liv had insisted she do herself since aside from dentistry and orthodontics, is probably her second passion in life. There’s a story she always likes to tell, about how she’d worked for a beauty salon during college for some extra cash but had ended up staying all four years because she found the whole transformation process to be exciting for both herself and her clients.

“I remember my first high school dance,” her mom continues, and she takes the dress off the hanger and signals for Y/n to stand up. “Now, my dress wasn’t nearly as form-fitting as yours. I mean, what do you expect from the 80s?” She chuckles lightly, shaking her head as she remembers exactly what she wore in her freshman year. Y/n braces herself against the wall as she steps into the pooled dress. “Philip Russo had asked me, and boy oh boy, was he something.”

Y/n snorts as she holds the lace fabric to her chest. “Does Dad know you still think about your high school boyfriend?”

Liv rolls her eyes, zipping the back up with one firm pull. “Oh of course, I talk about him every night before bed. You know what, honey? If I hadn’t met you, I would probably be living in Austin with Philip Russo and our seven kids. It makes for great pillow talk.”

“Did someone call me?” Jeremy’s voice calls from the master bedroom. Followed by his much shorter shadow, he saunters into the bathroom.

Mason scampers past his dad and wraps his arms around his sister’s legs. “You look like a princess!” he giggles, picking at one of the beads.

“You really think so, Mase?” she smiles, cupping his cheeks in her hand so he can look up at her.

The little boy nods furiously. “Yeah! And that means Harry’s your prince, right? Because the prince and princess always kiss each other, right? You and Harry kissed yesterday! I saw it!” He even looks to Liv for support. “Right, Mommy?”

Y/n digs her nails into her palms. The three of them had agreed to keep Mason upstairs when Jasper picks her up just to avoid all awkwardness if her brother wonders where Harry might be. That’s not to say that her parents are completely on board with the idea of this bizarre arrangement. Jeremy had been quite vocally against it because he much rather send his daughter off with a boy he’s come to know and like, rather than. . .well, he’s never met this other boy, so that’s already a red flag in his book.

“Now what I want to know is why you were snooping on your sister and Harry, huh?” she counters, hands on her hips and toe tapping with parental flare.

“Because Daddy said I have to keep an eye on them when he’s not home.”

Jeremy’s jaw just drops. “You little traitor,” he grumbles, glaring down at his son. “I told you not to tell the girls about our little secret.”

“Secret secrets are no fun unless you share with everyone!”

“Enough out of you.” Jeremy lifts the boy up and places him over his shoulder. It’s now that he’s able to get a good look at his daughter, his not so little girl. Y/n notices a glisten in his eyes the longer he studies her.

“Dad,” she whines, “remember you said you wouldn’t be dramatic?”

“I know, I know, but. . .” He twirls her around, a couple times before taking in her full image once more. “First, it's just a school dance, then it’s your wedding day. Jesus Christ, I’m getting old.”

***

The theme of this year’s winter formal is Winter Wonderland, and despite its cliché nature, student council and the decorations committee had managed to transform the events hall into somewhat of a festive paradise. There’s fake snow falling gracefully in the backdrop at the photographer’s station, where some of the more smitten couples strike their cutest poses as their arms wrap around the other’s figures. Dressed to the nines in their best attire, a few students are already swaying to the DJ’s soundtrack, while others mingle in groups by the punch bowl.

Harry is somewhat part of the latter category, his one hand occupied with his untouched beverage, the other buried deep in his pocket as he stands stiffly at Zoey’s side. She’s bragging about the price tag on her dress, gushing over how her daddy bought it right from the designer himself. “And he totally gave me his number and said I could stop by the New York office any time.”

“Bunch of bollocks,” Harry snorts into his cup, the fruity red liquid just barely grazing his top lip.

Zoey turns around, a sickeningly sweet and glossy smile greeting him. “What was that?” she asks, far too perky in her mannerisms, in his opinion.

“Nothing.” He takes a long sip for no other reason than to keep himself distracted. It works for a few more minutes, with him only participating in their conversation when he’s directly addressed, or if Zoey wants another damn refill of water.

Now, he isn’t quite sure what had possessed him to ask Zoey, of all the girls he could have chosen, to the dance. It was right after Y/n had told him she’d be going with Jasper, and he’d gone outside to clear his head. Who was the first (okay, second, but Señora Gustavo does not count) person he’d run into? The decision had been made in a split second, and for fuck’s sake his biggest regret is not taking a few more to think about it.

“Harry!” He turns on his heel at the call of his name, the first genuine smile of the night cheering up his downcast features when he sees Cici and Maxxie arrive through the doors. Excusing himself, he all but runs to them, enveloping both in a hug that’s filled with every bit of relief.

“Oh, thank god,” he sighs. “She’s driving me up the walls.”

Cici looks over his shoulder, brow raised as she glares at the redhead. “Are those next season’s Christian Louboutin’s? Unbelievable!”

“Jealousy is not a good look on you,” Maxxie teases, poking her side. “I’m not jealous. Just annoyed that the nasty ones always get first serve. And it’s honestly super annoying that she looks kind of good.”

“She’s beautiful. . .” Harry says suddenly, and both Maxxie and Cici gasp at his confession. The latter smacks his chest, and steam practically flares from her nostrils because she’s always had that protective instinct. Maxxie is more sensible, however, and he follows the line of Harry’s gaze right the source. It’s then he takes it upon himself to turn their friend around.

“What are you–”

It’s a scene right out of a movie as Y/n steps through the door, gently shielding her eyes as one of the moving spotlights casts down on her. Her dress reflects a light just as strong, and it manages to catch the attention of a majority of those around. She searches for something, fingers fiddling at her front as she looks unsurely through the room. It’s when she sees the three of them that she smiles widely.

“Guys!” she waves to them, lifting the skirt of her dress as she jogs over. “Oh my gosh, Ci! You look amazing!” she squeals, hugging her friend.

“I know.” Cici has never been one to maintain modesty, but it’s one of the reasons why Y/n loves her. “But look at you! Oh my god, you look like Hilary Duff.”

“That seems to be the consensus apparently,” she blushes. She gives Maxxie a kiss on the cheek, giggling when he whispers something in her ear. It earns him a pinch to his side, and he playfully huffs as he directs himself and Cici to one of the empty tables.

It just leaves her and Harry.

He has to resist the urge to reach out.

“You look. . .wow,” he’s at a loss for words.

Her eyes fall to their feet. “Still trying to get that kiss, I see.” And maybe she wishes she didn’t have to pretend like she doesn’t want to. It happens so quickly that she would’ve missed it she wasn’t paying any attention. His lips press against hers in a kiss. . .or maybe more appropriately a peck. But as her eyes flutter open, she’s met with a cheeky smile to top off an expression that constantly reminds her how in love she is with the boy in front of her.

***

She thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to see Zoey hang off her boyfriend like some pathetic sloth until right at this very moment. And she knows she shouldn’t let it all get to her because Harry had assured her over a dozen times over the phone that she’d be the only person he’ll be paying any attention to, but she really can’t help but feel mildly insecure. She hasn’t even had the chance to tell him how handsome he looks because Zoey had abruptly whisked him away as soon as Mariah Carey had started playing through the speakers. Take that, and the fact that Jasper had finally found his way to her after he’d talked to a few friends by the entrance.

The car ride here had been a bit awkward, if she’s being honest. Jeremy hadn’t been so successful in keeping Mason upstairs, and the little boy had even been the one to open the door because he had been anticipating a completely different face. “You’re not–” Luckily, Liv had been there to cover his mouth before he could say anything more. “Kids! Am I right?” And after a few quick snaps from her mom’s camera, they were off in his dad’s SUV, both sat in the back seat with the middle completely empty. There was some small talk, mostly questions of ‘are you excited’ or ‘hopefully the food is good’ and whatnot. She had tried her best, she really had, to keep things light and non bothersome, but she can sense that he knows something’s up.

“Hey,” she touches Jasper’s arm. “I’m just gonna go to the ladies’ room.”

***

When she walks out of the bathroom, she feels herself being whisked to the side. Before she can let out a yelp, she catches a whiff of his familiar scent, and it’s enough to soothe her panic.

“Are you crazy?” she giggles, looking down at the other end of the hall. “We’re supposed to be in there.”

Harry shrugs nonchalantly before leaning his forehead against hers. “Just a little.”

“Thank god we got that settled then.” She lets her hands fall into his hair, loving the way his soft brown curls feel in the slope between her fingers. For the first time tonight, she feels completely at ease as their bodies sway gently to the echo of a song. “Hi,” she whispers.

It’s then he gives her a proper embrace, holding her as close to him as he can, letting everything around them fade into the back of his mind.

“Hi.” He buries his nose into her hair. “I’m sorry this is how we have to share our first dance.”

He then pulls away just enough to look into her eyes, his heart swelling when she cups his face and presses a long kiss to his lips. The hold he has around her waist tightens as he deepens it further.

“It’s okay,” she answers when she breaks free in need of air. She giggles as she swipes his mouth of any traces of her lip gloss. “I’m actually surprised you were able to get away from your date.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry lets out a humorless snort that she happens to find greatly entertaining. “It wasn’t easy, let me tell you. I had to make up some excuse about how my stomach was feeling all out of sorts when I saw you walk out. Figured it was the perfect opportunity to get my girl alone. Plus. . .” He directs her gaze above, and she can’t help but laugh when she sees a mistletoe hung above them. Without missing a beat, his lips find their way back to hers.

***

Come talk to me about our babies!

#president!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabbles #harry styles

116 notes · View notes

hoebii · 3 years

Text

The one with the snake

Pairing : Snake Hybrid!Kim Taehyung x CEO!Min Yoongi (MXM)

Genre : Fluff

Warning : Shitty customers, use of curse words, these two get it on at the end lmao

Wc : 1961

Rating : PG13

A/N : Thank you @taegularities for being my beta ily. Hope you guys like this fic, if you have any idea/promt/req send ‘em my way~<3

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Taehyung woke up to an empty bed, no sight of his boyfriend, and what made it worse was the fact that he’d had a nightmare. With the day already feeling like it was ruined, Taehyung left the bed and went to get ready. It seemed that life hated him though, of all the days, today had to be the day that the geyser had to break.

After the insanely cold shower, Taehyung’s mood had worsened even more. Frowning, Taehyung walked to the kitchen after changing - where he couldn’t find his favourite jacket, so he had to wear a completely different outfit than he had planned originally - to find the toaster broken too.

Taehyung groaned, throwing his head back in frustration. He grumbled as he walked to the fridge and opened it, annoyance rising even more when he found it empty, save for some coffee that he didn’t even like. Slamming it shut, he walked out of the kitchen and went to grab his things to leave for the day. He could get some food on the way or have Jin hyung make him some.

-----

Standing in the parking lot, Taehyung stared at his car, or well, the spot where his car was supposed to be but wasn’t. Mouth agape in shock, Taehyung slowly raised his phone to his mouth, “Hey Siri, call Min Dickin on speaker.”

“Calling Min Dickin iPhone on speaker.”

Taehyung stood there waiting for Yoongi to pick up, trying to figure out where his damn car went. “Hello?” A voice rang out from his phone. “Hey uh, where the hell is my car?” Taehyung asked.

“What do you mean where’s your car? It’s in the parking lot.” Trying to keep the creeping headache at bay, Taehyung rubbed his face, stress levels increasing with each passing second, “It’s not there, smartass.”

“What do you mean it’s not there?”

“What the fuck do you think it means?”

There was a pause after that in which none of them said anything, though Taehyung could hear muffled sounds of Yoongi moving around and talking to someone else.

“Oh! Babe don’t worry, Namjoon took it to the repair shop apparently,” Yoongi spoke up after a while. Taehyung closed his eyes and took in a deep breath at that before saying in the sweetest voice he could muster, “Well then, baby. How am I supposed to get to work today?”

“....Ta..ke the bike?”

“Jungkook and Jimin crashed it last week, remember?”

“...I could send a car to pick you up?”

“Yoongi, your office is an hour away from here and I need to be there in,” Taehyung pulled his phone back to check the time, “7 minutes ago, great.”

“Call Jin hyung and let him know you’re gonna be late, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Before Taehyung could reply, however, his phone beeped once and then shut off. Taehyung tried turning it on, but the screen only displayed an empty battery symbol. He swore to himself as he glared down at the dead phone, he wanted to chuck that thing into the ocean.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, Taehyung walked out of the building to catch a bus and finally get to work. Jin was gonna have his head.

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

The first thing that Taehyung had heard when he stepped into the kitchen was Jin’s booming voice screaming at him. “Yah! You’re so lucky you have me as a boss! Not only am I the most handsome boss, I am also benevolent. This is the third time you came late for your shift, you’re lucky I don't just fire you sometime! I know not everyone can be perfect, but really.”

See, if this had been any other day, Taehyung would’ve joked around and said something funny as a reply, but it wasn’t any other day. Taehyung wanted to cry from the headache and this did not help at all. Taehyung contemplated if he could run back home and burrow but decided against it. Life may be a bitch but it won’t make Taehyung it’s bitch today.

Not saying anything besides whispering a soft sorry, Taehyung walked past Jin to the staff room to change into his uniform, leaving Jin shocked at the normally cheerful man’s somber mood.

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

The day felt as if it would never end. The headache that had never left Taehyung, rather it kept getting worse as time went by but he still pushed on. Jin had asked Taehyung what was wrong when he came out of the staff’s room, but Taehyung had brushed him off without a word earlier.

Now nearing the end of his shift, Taehyung was praying to any deity above to not make this day any worse. The day was already a bad one, from the way it started to how it kept progressing. Someone had spilled their food right in the middle of the restaurant and Taehyung had to clean it up - now that wouldn’t have been so bad if while doing so another colleague of his hadn’t bumped into him and spilled even more food on the floor for Taehyung to clean up. Taehyung could only give the other person a tight lipped smile. He was just one more incident away from screaming, life really was testing him today.

It was proved yet again that life hated him though, because just as he was about to leave to change, a lady had cornered him and demanded to speak to his manager. Taehyung had stared at her in bewilderment, not having noticed her approach him in the first place before he quickly put on his ‘I might seem like I’m extremely happy to serve you, but I’m dying inside’ smile, “Is there something wrong, ma’am?”

“I demand to talk to your manager!” the woman shouted, now starting to attract others’ attention. Tongue flicking out to lick his lips, Taehyung asked, “Ma’am, please calm down. I could try to assist you in any way I can?”

It was clear this woman would not calm down from how she started shouting even louder. Taehyung scrambled to try calm her for the sake of other customers and his headache to no success.

“What’s going on?” Jin strided out of the kitchen at the commotion. The woman whipped towards Jin before speed walking to him, making Jin step back slightly from how aggressively she approached him. “Are you the manager here?” she asked, well, more like demanded.

Jin raised one perfect eyebrow at her, “I’m the owner of this establishment, what’s the matter, ma’am?”

“Your waiter here has been staring at me the wrong way for the last five minutes! Who even hires a snake? They’re evil!”

Taehyung stared at the woman in incredulity. What was she on about? He hadn’t even seen her before she’d rudely approached him! He was literally staring off into space till the- oh. Did she think he was staring at her cause of that? Taehyung almost snorted at the thought of how conceited someone can be.

Jin stared at her with mild amusement, “He was what?”

“Staring at me the wrong way!” “So not only are you saying that one of my staff members is evil, but also that Kim Taehyung was staring at you the… wrong way?”

“Yes!”

Not being able to hold back anymore, Jin laughed out loud at the absurdity of the woman in front of him. This wasn’t anything new to Jin, these kinds of customers were more common than he would’ve liked to admit. But someone saying Taehyung, the guy who was so in love with his best friend that he wouldn’t spare anyone a glance was ‘staring the wrong way’ at someone, much less a lady, was simply too amusing.

Clearing his throat and composing himself, Jin spoke up, “Ma’am I can assure you our staff would never do that, much less him.”

“Yeah? Well he was! Fire him right this instant or I’m never coming back to this place!” the lady threatened.

Taehyung watched in fascination as Jin, unbothered as ever, pointed at the exit and asked her to ‘leave if you wish to’ without any hesitation, gaze hardening into a glare. The lady flushed in anger and roughly poked at Jin’s chest, exclaiming as she did so, “This isn’t over! I will sue you!” before turning and leaving the place.

The only running through Taehyung’s mind as he watched her leave was how much she reminded him of a chubby little elephant stomping away. He kinda felt bad comparing a magnificent creature like an elephant to whatever hell spawn she was though. “Sorry Hobi hyung, didn’t mean to compare her to you.” He had whispered to himself.

Taehyung waited for Jin to scold him or talk to him, but Jin had just winked at him before returning to the kitchen. He let out a breath of relief before he too left to go finally change out of his uniform and go home, low-key convinced someone had put a curse on him or something.

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

Yoongi left the office earlier than he usually would, one of the perks of being the CEO, after getting a call from Jin about Taehyung not feeling the best today. Yoongi had rushed out of his office as soon as it was 5pm to reach home and set about preparing Taehyung’s favourite food and taking out all of his favourite movies, so they could cuddle and watch them.

Yoongi was going to make this day better for Taehyung, no matter what!

-----------

It was 8pm, but there was still no sign of Taehyung; he should’ve been back by 7pm. Yoongi sat on the couch, trying to call Taehyung, but the call never went through.

Yoongi decided to wait five more minutes before he would go out to look for Taehyung. Meanwhile he would go reheat the food to make sure if Taehyung did return by then, he’d get warm food.

Yoongi was about to leave the house when a soaking wet Taehyung walked in. Yoongi gasped in shock and rushed to his side, “Oh my god what happened?! Why are you so wet? Are you okay?”

Taehyung dropped his sopping jacket on the ground and pulled Yoongi in for a hug, hiding his face in Yoongi’s neck, grip tightening. Yoongi hugged Taehyung back, not caring about how he was getting wet, too concerned about the crying man in his arms.

“Baby what happened?” Yoongi asked, running his hand through Taehyung’s hair to calm him down.

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Taehyung's muffled reply came as he nuzzled closer to Yoongi, desperate for comfort.

Yoongi decided not to say anything, just let Taehyung get it all out. After a while Yoongi had finally decided to step away and send Taehyung away to go freshen up while he would get the food so they could eat it while watching movies.

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

Yoongi had just set down the food on the coffee table when he was suddenly grabbed and pulled into a kiss. Yoongi stiffened at first but soon melted into it, hands raising to trace the scattered patches of scales on Taehyung’s body, making him shiver.

Still kissing, Taehyung started backing Yoongi till they reached the couch. Yoongi fell on the couch as Taehyung moved to straddle him. He groaned as he felt Taehyung’s forked tongue lick at his lips, asking for entrance. Parting his lips, the two battled for dominance, Taehyung winning at the end.

After a while, Yoongi moved back to break the kiss - Taehyung chasing after his lips, not wanting to stop - while panting slightly, “W-what about the food?”

Taehyung smirked, his pupils contracting into slits and his fangs showing, “I wanna have dessert first.”

Well then, Yoongi couldn’t say no to that.

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