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yourmcu · 4 years

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Friday, I’m In Love

Pairings: Tony Stark x reader

Summary:

In which the reader is an Avenger and she just geeks out when she sees a bunch of musical instruments at the compound and Tony just fallsinlovewithherstraightaway because of her personality and music taste

Word count: 2,562

A/n: (moved to the end of the fic!)

Warnings: u have nothing to worry about :) fluff!

read it on ao3!

gif not mine! credits to the owner^^

“I’ll drop this off at your room before I hit the hay, Tony mentioned about giving you a tour of the place first.” Clint patted you on the arm and walked pass you with your bags.

You nodded and smiled, really appreciating his help. You’ve been sorting things out at your apartment with Clint all day. “Alright, thanks. I owe you one.” You heard him say something along the lines of ‘buy me donuts’ before he was out of sight.

“Agent L/N, you’re finally able to join us,” Tony gave you a playful smile, finishing his drink to walk over to you.

You were officially one of the avengers, and now officially moving in. It’s been a few months since you assisted the team on a particularly huge mission. It was not planned of course, after that you started helping out when they needed it, and they thought you’d fit right in.

“Tony,” you gave him a small nod and a kind smile. “And please, call me Y/N.” The billionaire then offered you a drink but you declined.

“Good, didn’t think you’d be much of a drinker,” Tony stated and gave you one of those charming looks that would literally sweep any girl right off her feet. “Has anybody told you that you’ve got pretty eyes?”

The comment surprised you but then again, you remembered who you were talking to. “Stark, if we’re going to be working together you better cut the crap.” You laughed.

Tony raised an eyebrow, thinking that you probably ran into Pepper first before coming up. The small talk led to Tony’s said compound tour. He was making jokes here and there, even revealing secrets about the others that you didn’t need to know about.

After some time the both of you reached the last floor, the one that had your bedroom. Tony was still talking but your gaze was glued to the black, shiny piano out in the balcony. Why was something so grand and probably expensive doing in plain sight where someone could just swoop in and steal it?

“Earth to Y/N,” Tony waved a hand in front of your face. He stopped when you came back from your trance. “There you are. That’s a secluded, little balcony. It’s a great place to let off some steam or just to take a break for a while.”

“That’s nice,” you murmured. “You... uh, you play?”

Tony spun around to look at you again. “Play?”

“Yeah. The piano, I mean. It’s a good looking piano.” You admitted.

“Oh. That’s what you were ogling? For a second I thought I was a bad and boring tour guide,” he chuckled. “I wouldn’t say I do. It’s a specific model my mother used to own and...”

You waved him off and smiled lightly, not wanting him to explain further as you already understood. It might kill the mood. It’s been a while since you’ve run your fingers through a set of piano keys, you realized, but you were also shy to ask Tony if you could play it sometime.

“Alright, just call for Friday if you need anything, or call Friday to call me,” he joked when you finally reached your bedroom door. “After you settle maybe you could stop by the lab? I could really use your help for something - it’s in your area of expertise, you know?”

“Sure. Tomorrow’s good?”

“Sounds great.”

You nodded and thanked him for the tour, and he gave you a salute before walking away.

----

“Good morning, metal man.”

From inside the Iron Man suit, Tony turned around to see you leaning against the wall beside the door to the lab, a cheeky smile on your face, one cup of coffee in each hand. He was certain that he pulled another all nighter, not even realizing that it was morning until you greeted him.

Surprised by your presence, the iron helmet swiftly revealed his tired face, then he opened up the chest plate of his suit to get out of it completely. “Time?”

“It’s six. I didn’t think you’d be working this early,” but you noticed the circles around his eyes. “...or you didn’t stop since last night.”

“Nope.” Tony snatched one of the cups from your hand and gulped it down. His eyes slightly widened when he realized you snuck in some bourbon in there.

He also couldn’t help but look at your nightwear. Slightly shabby sweatpants and a large band shirt. Green Day, he noticed. They weren’t bad. Heck he could’ve sworn he heard one of their songs on the radio once.

“You said you needed me for something?” You recalled, walking over to his computer. You were an all in one package: you practiced a lot of fighting as a teenager, now you trained with Natasha or Steve, so you knew a decent amount of hand-to-hand combat. Originally you were supposed to major in arts, but switched to the science stuff, engineering, so you knew a thing or two about building things. You also took interest in coding. Plus, Fury admitted to like your wit, one of the reasons why he wasn’t against you joining the avengers.

Tony just wanted you to try and make the security systems around the compound more tight, more secure. He’d do it himself but he wanted to see what you can do. You were the newest part of the team, of course he’d be curious about you.

You pushed yourself away from his desk, humming at the green bar slowly filling up in the monitor. “That should take a while,” you crossed your legs and looked up at the genius billionaire. “You’re awfully quiet, Tony, I think you need some sleep.”

He rolled his eyes, smiling. “I’m getting back to work.”

“Hey no, I’m serious. You need to re-”

You cut yourself off when you saw a beautiful, six-stringed instrument that hung from the wall when you turned. Tony wondered why you abruptly stopped talking and looked at you.

You got up the chair and carefully removed the electric guitar from the wall. You cringed a bit when you felt the rusty strings on your fingertips. Clearly this hasn’t been played in a while.

But nonetheless, you thought it was beautiful.

“You’re looking at it like it’s the love of your life,” Tony pointed out.

“Do you not know what this is?” You gestured to the instrument. It was a Gibson, 1960 Les Paul - its color scheme being cherry red and black. It greatly reminded you of Brian May’s red special-

Anyway, you sat back down, running your hands through the fret board a couple times to get used to the rusty strings, also tuning some that were out of tune. Then you pulled out a small pick from your pocket.

“So you just carry around a plastic plectrum everywhere you go, huh?” Tony heaved himself up to sit on top of his desk in front of you.

Playing a few sets of chords made you reminisce about your high school years. You were the type that brought a guitar everyday to school back then. “It’s a habit,” you chuckled. “When did you start playing?”

“Oh, no. I just collect them. I know a chord or two but that’s it.”

You laughed. Of course, he was a billionaire. “I could teach you if you want.”

Tony crossed his arms and playfully raised an eyebrow. Is this your way of flirting with him, or was it just an innocent offer? “Why, you a professional or something?”

“No - well, if I stuck to my original career choice, I should be.” You shrugged.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Tony made a mental note to himself to ask you more about that specific topic later on.

“Fine,” you giggled. “Name a band and I’ll play a song.”

He pretended to think. “Dunno, AC/DC.”

You slid your fingers up a bit to the higher frets to play the intro to ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’. It’s your personal favorite from that band. The guitar doesn’t sound as exciting as it is when it’s plugged in, but you manage to pull it off. You then played the opening riff a couple times then skipped to the chorus.

Tony watched your hand as you hummed along the chorus. It was a great song, yet simple chords, simple until you get to the solo part. He thought you played it beautifully but he’d never admit it to your face.

“C’mon, it was just one song, am I that good?” You teased when you saw a glint of amazement in his eyes.

“Please, anyone can play that song.” Tony rolled his eyes, grinning. Then he pointed to your shirt. “Green Day.”

You repositioned your hand on the frets, playing the fingerstyle to the band’s song ‘Minority’. “I’d never wear a band shirt if I didn’t know the band. That’s downright embarrassing.

“What’s your genre, Stark? I’m guessing a lotta rock?” You stopped playing for a bit to look at him.

“You could say that. But if I think it’s catchy then it’s going on my playlist,” Tony responded. “You can keep that guitar, by the way.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. “I can’t. This - this model is expensive. The brand’s expensive-”

“It’s three grand.” He told you like it didn’t matter to him.

“Exactly! It’s expensive!”

“Boss, Miss Romanoff is on her way down.” Friday’s voice rang throughout the room.

On cue, Natasha walked in wearing her usual sparring attire. “Y/N. You were supposed to meet me at the gym half an hour ago.”

You cursed, getting up and hanging the guitar back up the wall earning a glare from Tony. He really did want to give it to you. “Sorry, got caught up. Uh... I think it’s done, Tony,” you rambled and pointed at his computer, green bar already full.

Natasha lingered at the door after you ran up to change. “I know you have a lot of those displayed around and I’m telling you, hide them.” She was referring to the guitar.

“Why?” Tony hopped off the desk and began working again.

“Mainly because she turns into a huge music geek, but I’m assuming you love it.”

----

Tony had a stressful time doing work one night. He’s in the middle of a suit upgrade and he just can’t seem to put it together right. Maybe he just needed a moment to breathe and relax.

So he went to the balcony, a glass of his preferred alcohol for the night in hand.

He wasn’t that surprised when he saw you in there too. After the first time you came over his lab you started coming over regularly, just to talk about random stuff, music and bands, assisting him with anything he needs assisting with. The both of you became close. You could catch and snap back whenever he made a smart remark, and when he would shamelessly flirt with you, you’d just play along, you don’t get insulted or take any of it too seriously. That’s probably why he likes you so much.

This time you sat in front of the piano, playing chords and doing random scales. Tony admired you quietly from the entrance of the balcony. You did look pretty peaceful humming along, he even found it adorable when your eyebrows furrowed when you accidentally hit a wrong note, sometimes you’d shake your head slightly.

You were definitely something else. As time passed, Tony realized his feelings for you only grew and grew. He even started listening to all the songs you recommended, which were all amazing, even though at first he wasn’t used to hearing songs without an electric guitar on full distortion.

“Sorry. It was just so tempting.” You giggled. You pat the vacant part of the piano seat next to you. Tony placed his drink on top of the piano before sitting down.

You began playing a new song and he was very much relaxed by it. He remembered that time he got to ask you why you didn’t grab the opportunity to play music professionally.

“Well why didn’t you?” Tony asked.

You shrugged, fiddling with his custom made Iron Man guitar. “People judged me. Told me I’d never make it as a musician, that it was just out of luck for the famous ones out there now. It’s fine honestly, I liked other stuff anyway. After that I started training, y’know, became a spy...”

“You know how The Cure’s ‘Friday I’m In Love’ is upbeat?” You asked as you transitioned to a new chord. Tony hummed. “I found a slow, piano version the other day and I... learned it. I think it’s pretty.”

“Let’s hear it.”

You smiled. You were always flattered when he wanted to hear you play songs.

Tony looked at your hands swiftly playing the piano keys, up to your face concentrating on what chord was next. You only learned it by ear, you were sure you’d mess up at some point.

“I don’t care if Monday’s blue,” you hummed. “Tuesday’s grey and Wednesday too...”

You believed your singing voice was shit, so you just did this thing where you hummed- but also sung the lyrics as you played. Tony believed differently though. He thought your voice was beautiful.

“Thursday, I don’t care about you... it’s Friday, I’m in love,” You glanced at Tony for a moment and then returned your attention to the piano keys when you saw that he’d been fully listening to you.

“Monday you could fall apart,” you fell into your own little world again, high-fiving yourself in your mind when you nailed that chord progression.

Whereas Tony was sure that he was falling for you as moments passed.

“Tuesday, Wednesday, break my heart...”

The way you sung that last part made him feel things. It was just so soft, warm, damn, he wanted to make a move now.

‘Do it! You won’t have a chance like this again.’ A voice inside his head told him.

“Thursday doesn’t even start, it’s-”

You did an entirely different chord, messing up the song. “Oh god, that was horrible.” You laughed, closing your eyes and putting your hands around your stomach to contain your laughter. “But it was a good version, don’t you th-”

When you went to look at Tony, you were immediately cut off by lips pressing to yours. He cupped both sides of your face to gently deepen the kiss. He didn’t want it to be forced but seeing as you weren’t pulling away and you started to kiss back, he didn’t stop.

You were shocked to say the least. It was so fucking cliche but it was happening. Tony Stark was kissing you, and you liked it. Well of course you did, who wouldn’t? Maybe because it felt like it had meaning, not because he’s just lusting for you. It felt like your heart was about to leap out of your chest and there were actual butterflies inside you.

“Friday, I’m in love.” Tony finished the lyric for you after he pulled away.

“Are - are you-”

“I might have to kiss you again just to shut you up.”

But this time you beat him to it. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, and you felt those darn butterflies again.

“It’s about time, sir.” Friday spoke.

----

so this is just a pure music-related imagine and also I’m sorry if you don’t like the band(s) mentioned (bc it’s an x reader), or have a different guitar preference, or play a different instrument or have a drastically different fav genre, etc.

(AND YES I THOUGHT THE TITLE WAS PERFECT FOR THIS SINCE IT’S A SONG AND HE HAS AN A.I NAMED FRIDAY)

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realllllfangirllllll · 3 years

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Beyond Lovers || Chp. 24

{More Than Friends Sequel}

Chairman!Jaehyun AU x CEO!Reader AU

Summary: You find yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with the former CEO after overcoming your fear of love. Although there were rough patches, both of you are now stronger than ever. However, you realize that maintaining a relationship and a company at the same time can be very difficult, especially if someone is out to destroy the both of you.

Warning: The vengeance we’ve all been waiting for?

Masterlist

{ Previous / Next }

Credits to rightful owner for this amazing gif

———

1 day ago

Drumming his fingers along the smooth leather steering wheel, Yuta kept watch for any movements on the quiet streets. Soon enough, he spotted his arrogant step-cousin drive up to the gate of her house. Quickly, he got out of his car dashing in front of the moving vehicle. The car came to an immediate stop as the screeching of tires can be heard.

The window to the driver’s seat rolled down and Emily stuck her head out in shock, “Are you fucking crazy?! I could’ve killed you!”

Yuta paid no mind to the risk and gave her a cold smirk, “Why hello my dearest cousin.”

She rolled her eyes, “Don’t ‘hello’ me. I have an important day ahead of me and I have no time to waste by talking to a psychotic sore loser like you.”

Smiling with his arms crossed, he asked, “And what game did I lose?”

“Oh don’t act like you don’t know dear Nakamoto. Weren’t you just begging me over text to give up?” She looked into Yuta's eyes with a wicked smile, “Don’t worry I won’t.”

“Emily. Don’t you fucking dare.”

With her arms crossed, she scoffed and looked him dead in the eye, “Who’s going to stop me?”

His arms shot up to grab her arm over the opened window, “Don’t you even-”

“Even what? Take over SM? Are you scared because you know daddy’s going to make me the heir of YG once I take over this shabby company too?”

Yuta let out a sigh and loosened his grip around her arm. “You know what?” He continued with an exhausted voice, “I give up. You’ll never listen anyway. You just do what you want and see what you want. There’s no stopping you anyways. There never was…”

Emily gave him a sly smile at his words as if she won the unspoken war of nerves. That was until he suddenly gave her a cold smile that sent shivers down her entire body. In a chilling tone, Yuta stared at her and warned, “But every action has its consequences my dear cousin.”

Emily feigned indifference and rolled her windows back up, driving into her house driveway.

Yuta watched with pity as she disappeared into the front door. You always put up an act with everyone just to win a petty competition. It’s what your father raised you to be and there’s no way I can change you. Once this is all over, I hope you will learn to truly be yourself without having to worry whether your father will approve or not.

~~~

The building that started it all. You thought to yourself as you stared at the large building in front of you. You’ve seen the SM building countless times, but today felt different. And oddly enough, you don’t hate it. There was a time you’ve walked in with regret, fearing you’ll have to face your feelings for the man you had a one-night stand with. There was also another time you’ve walked in feeling anger and resentment coursing through your body, ready to meet the person who terrorized your boyfriend’s former position. This time, however, you felt none of those negative feelings. You were instead glad to be back as the person who will claim what’s rightfully yours and Jaehyun’s. This building held as much happiness as it did sadness, and you weren’t going to let some ungrateful chick take that away.

Stepping through the sliding glass doors, you strode in your pointed heels to the lobby desk with Mark by your side. The workers were shocked to see the two of you as you greeted them with a smile. “Wendy, Jisoo. Nice to see you’re still working just as diligently.”

“Y/n… Mark... W-what are you doing here?”

You playfully retorted, “You’re not going to call the security on us are you?”

The two women looked flabbergasted, unsure of whether they should carry out their duty or stay loyal to their former boss’s girlfriend. You chuckled and placed a hand on one of their shoulders. “I’m joking. Lighten up girls!” Taking out your id badge, the girls relaxed their bodies once they saw ‘Conference Attendee’ written on it. You analyzed their behaviors and scoffed, “I don’t know who took away the wit from my front desk girls, but I’ll be sure to bring it back,” you thought for a second as you placed a finger underneath your chin, “in about one hour…” They looked confused by your statement but you simply shared a knowing smile with Mark before scanning your id and passing the heavily-secured entrance.

As soon as you got in the elevator, you and Mark were met with Taeyong and his secretary. Although you have seen him many times, you were still stunned by the power his look held. He dressed in a dark navy blue suit with his hair parted and slicked to the right, much different than when you first met him as a casually dressed barista.

“Mr. Kim, please take the next elevator,” Taeyong firmly told his secretary before the elevator doors closed.

You chuckled slightly, “You know if anyone else did that, it would be extremely rude. But how do you still sound like a gentleman doing that?”

“It’s because I know how to treat my employees properly, and in return, I gain respect.”

You nodded over dramatically, “Wow. So sexy.”

He laughed and slouched a bit from his previous demeanor, “Ok stop teasing me y/n. You know it’s my job to maintain a serious image.”

Taeyong turned to stare at you oddly as you softly nodded, “What’s got you in such a cheery mood? I know everyone else right now is as nervous as I am.” He gestured towards Mark, “Look at this poor boy. He looks like he’s about to take the SAT without studying at all.” Mark responded with a glare as you laughed.

Tilting your head to the side, you tried to find the right words to explain to him. Taeyong cocked an eyebrow, expectantly waiting for a reply. Letting out a chuckle you asked, “Remember when I told you Emily laced my drink with food poisoning?”

He crossed his arms and turned toward you, “How can I ever forget? Jaehyun even had her arrested.” You laughed as Taeyong continued with a furrowed eyebrows, “Did the chairman ever find out?”

You scoffed, “If he did, do you think she’ll be able to attend this board meeting?”

Taeyong gave you an “oh right” as he slowly nodded his head. You chuckled and continued, “But that’s even better for us because now we can finally put this battle to its end. I felt so weak and clueless when I first met Jaehyun. I let Emily poison me, threaten my boyfriend, and even let her get in between my relationship. But you, Jaemin, and even Yuta showed me what it can be to stand up for myself. Frankly, I never thought about my future. I just lived according to what my brother wanted. I always thought that would be the only way to not feel like a disappointment. My exact thoughts were: I disappointed my parents and was abandoned, I don’t want my brother to think I’m a disappointment too.”

Your gaze met Taeyong’s and you saw a look of pity. Chuckling, you told him, “You don’t have to look at me like that.” With a genuine smile on your face, you assured, “I’m not the same person I once was. Jaehyun changed my perspective on life. I guess he showed me what it really felt to be strong, to own up to the world.”

Taeyong mirrored your smile, knowing very well that you were more than capable of handling anything. As the elevator doors opened, you gave him an imperturbable look. “Today isn’t any different.”

~~~

One by one, the shareholders of SM and other crucial directors started to fill the room. A few journalists sat at the side of the packed room, ready to announce to the media anything they find intriguing, or more so, scandalous. A few people gave you odd glances, wondering what NCT’s CEO was doing at SM’s board meeting, especially seated at the very front of the room. You paid no mind to them as you waited for the main characters of today’s show.

Annoyance filled your body as a fuming Emily caught your eye. She marched up to you with anger and looked down at your seated figure, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

She radiated negative energy and her impulsive statement caught the attention of other directors and even the reporters. You gave her a sly smirk, “Better keep your anger caged missy.” You glanced around the room and left your gaze lingering a second longer on the vigilant journalists then back to Emily. With a hint of mockery, you told her, “It won’t do you anything good to act like a snarling bitch in front of your VIPs, am I right?”

She looked around and saw the glances she was receiving. Taking a deep breath, she glared at you and left. Swallowing her pride, she took a seat at her assigned chair on the opposite side from you. The seat adjacent to hers was empty, waiting for the chairman to claim its place.

A few minutes later, you felt a tap on your shoulder, and you were met with a bright smile. You reciprocate the gesture as Jaemin sits in between you and Taeyong. As the remaining guests filed into the room, you checked your watch: 10 minutes, 20 minutes, to 30 minutes. It’s been exactly half an hour since you sat down and still, the chairman was nowhere to be found.

You looked at Jaemin and he gave you a slight nod of assurance. Glancing around the room, you can see the people around you were starting to get confused and impatient. However, a smirk appeared on your lips as the door swung open.

One of the directors was about to announce the rescheduling of the meeting but immediately stopped in his tracks. Quickly and nervously, he bowed to the elder and retreated back to his seat. As the chairman announced the start of the meeting through the microphone stand, you saw Emily sit up a little straighter than before.

“Thank you everyone for being patient with this old man.” He spoke firmly into the mic even as he was joking. The other attendees forced a laugh as he continued. “However, I will make this meeting short and concise.”

“As you all know, rumors have been speculating around the media about SM’s position of chief executive officer. I am here today to tell you that it is true.”

Emily’s eyes lit up as her father finished the statement. You saw her give you a cold smile but you brushed it off, waiting for the rest of his announcement.

“It is true,” the chairman cleared his throat, “that SM will no longer have Nakamoto Yuta as it’s CEO.”

Whispers and murmurs could be heard from the back as the reporters discussed amongst themselves. The chairman gave you a look of uneasiness as you stared back ushering him to continue with your eyes.

“However, my daughter, Emily Ahn will not hold the position to this title.” With that announcement, you saw Emily’s shocked gaze at her father as the shareholders and directors started to whisper amongst themselves as well.

The chairman ushered the secretary to turn off the lights as a projector screen lit up the room. “My main goal today is to share with you all the changes that will be taking place in this company the minute we walk out this room. Prior to my appearance at this meeting, I had a discussion with my lawyer to transfer my shares.” He then looked to the projected screen, “As you can all see on this chart, I no longer hold any amount of the shares in this company. What you see on this chart are the current shareholders and the percentage of shares they hold.”

The people in the room burned holes onto the screen, looking to see if, by chance, the chairman would’ve transferred his shares to them. But once they have thoroughly read the chart, they were left speechless. Emily stood out among the rest of the crowd as you, Taeyong, and Jaemin shared a knowing look with each other.

“As of today, the Chief Executive Officer of Starship, A Cup of Coffee, and NCT will be the top shareholders of SM Management.”

The sounds of the secretary furiously typing onto his laptop can be heard as he tried to keep up with the constant announcements. You saw some questioning looks from the shareholders and directors as Emily carried fire in her eyes. You felt her glare never leaving your side. A brave shareholder suddenly spoke up, “Mr. Ahn, with all due respect, I don’t see how any of this makes sense!” A group of shareholders and directors chimed in to agree but stopped immediately once the chairman cleared his throat in a loud manner.

“As you are all very well aware, Starship Enterprises is a major benefactor to SM Management and Lee Taeyong is a major key figure in the promotions of this company. As for-” Before he could continue his justification, Emily screeched out in anger, “As for NCT?! You can’t tell me you’re serious! What have they ever done that could be of use to this company?! They are just some dumpster start-up business that can’t even raise their stocks up!!”

Everyone’s eyes were on Emily now. The journalists smirking as Emily’s rage gave them exactly what they needed. The chairman kept a cool facade as he sighed out, “NCT has been and will continue to be the biggest contributor towards SM Management’s success. It seems my words aren’t enough to convince everyone,” his stare went towards Emily as if to warn her not to cause a scene, but she only reciprocated her father’s intense gaze. “So, I will let the person in question explain.”

Standing up confidently, you turned towards your audience. With your best smile, you rectified, “I’m not the person in question, per se, but I will tell you this today so all misunderstandings are cleared.” Everyone in the room turned towards you waiting for your response to clear up their confusion and anger. “I am the current CEO of NCT, but what has established the growing success of this company has nothing to do with me.” You gave them a shrug and an innocent smile, bathing in Emily’s anger. Continuing to speak, you started to move slowly around the room as if you were targeting your prey, “However, doesn’t one person come to mind when speaking of SM Management’s success? Who has built this company with his blood, sweat, and tears? Who was it that gave you all a high-paying job at this well-known management so you won’t have to crawl back to your family in shame?” You looked directly into the eyes of the directors as they look down in discomfort. You then turned your gaze towards the shareholders and said without remorse, “And do you think the company shares would have any value at all without his hard work in refining this management?” You let out a little laugh at their speechless figures and turned, stopping right next to Emily, “And do you, Miss Ahn, remember how many times this person has left you off the hook for fraud and even harassment?” Defeated, Emily dropped back down to her seat and stayed speechless like the others.

You turned toward the secretary in charge of meeting notes and told him, “Please make sure you get down every word of what I’m about to say. This will be the highlight of this meeting.” He gave you a questioning look but quickly nodded the moment you raised your eyebrow at him, warning him to question you any further. “SM Management has managed to become this successful because Jung Jaehyun was capable of handling this company with his brain and with his heart. If anyone wants to refute this claim then I guess we will be able to see who the traitors of this company are. Hence, the chairman is simply disconnecting his traces on this company because he knows who the real benefactor of SM Management is. Jaemin, Taeyong, and I are fully aware of this and are committed to restoring this company to its former glory.” You paused for a second as you glanced at your phone buzzing in the pocket of your blazer. You smiled and continued, “And if this doesn’t ease your concerns, I believe these two particular people will be able to help with that.”

The projector screen closed as the lights turned back on. Right on queue, the door to the conference room clicked open. Everyone’s eyes widened with shock as Yuta and Jaehyun appeared before the attendees. Yuta wore a sly smirk on his face while Jaehyun held a stone-cold look that could kill. Their crisp suits and slick, gelled hair perfectly accessorized their intimidating persona. A small smile crept up onto your face while Emily, on the other hand, had shaking pupils. The journalists sat up straighter and furiously scribbled all over their notes.

The two men stood side by side at the front of the room capturing everyone’s attention. Yuta spoke first with his firm but laid-back tone, “Clearly, all of you in this room must be taken aback by the changes in shares and the confirmation of my absence. I will tell you all right now that I, myself, have decided to leave from my title as SM Management’s Chief Executive Officer. And not because Miss Ahn over here,” Yuta turned toward the speechless woman next to the chairman and smugly said, “but because this title does not belong to me. However, before I leave my position there is one proposal I am here for. I, along with Ms. y/l/n, have recently flown to discuss with our Japanese investors to have SM Management merge with NCT as a cooperative branch.”

At this rate, the secretary seemed exhausted as he tried to keep up with the news of the meeting. Murmurs can be heard all over the room but everyone settled down the moment Jaehyun moved an inch. He spoke with a powerful yet calm voice, “If this proposal carries over, I, as chairman of NCT, will be handling all deals within both companies. I am sure the directors here at SM Management are capable enough to know whether or not the company will be in good hands. I also believe that the shareholders will understand the benefit and high possibility for the shares to sky-rocket once this merge has been made.”

The shareholders and directors were deep in discussion before the chairman spoke up. “As of right now we will take a vote for and against this proposal. Please keep in mind that your votes would be counted according to the changes I have mentioned earlier. The top 5 shareholders’ decisions will count for three votes each while the rest will be one vote per persons.”

A good amount of hands can be seen for both decisions. Everyone, especially Emily, grew anxious. Turning their attention toward the secretary, everyone awaited for his announcement for the voting, including the reporters and the chairman.

A mix of emotions can be seen as the secretary said, “By a vote of 3, this proposal has passed.”

———

• Back from hiatus! Thank you sm for waiting 🥺•

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averytinyelephant · 3 years

Text

damn the heavens

Author’s note: This is my gift for @tog-secret-santa! (This is my first time participating in an event for a fandom, and it’s been really fun, so thank you to the mods!!!) This gift is for @pi-a-ia (who’s art is amazing, go check it out!!). I tried incorporating all of your wishes in this fic, so I hope you like it! [Contains spoilers for the anime and anyone who hasn’t caught up to chapter 193 (Season 2, Ep. 113) of the manhwa.] Fandom: Tower of God (Read the Webtoon here!) Pairing: Khun Aguero Agnis/The Twenty-Fifth Baam

Summary: After the end of the Workshop Battle, Baam stares at the sky. Khun may not have the courage to chase the stars, but maybe he can carve Baam a path of light to reach them.

Gif credits to @edo-taichou.

THE WINNING TEAM OF THE WORKSHOP BATTLE IS: TEAM SWEET & SOUR

There’s silence for one short moment. Then, an explosion of cheers.

Khun breathes a sigh of relief.

Finally, everything’s back as it should be.

—

There’s celebrations. Drinking, yelling, partying— Khun doesn’t really care for any of it. And from the looks of how he can hardly keep his eyes open, Baam doesn’t either.

“Baam, let’s go get some rest.” Baam blinks a few times at the proposal, likely not used to being called by that name again yet, but gives Khun a soft, grateful smile. “Okay,” he agrees simply, “please ask Rak-ssi too. He must be tired too.”

Khun clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes exaggeratedly at the mention of the gator, and it’s worth it for the bright peal of laughter it pulls from Baam. He agrees with a nod as Baam makes his way to their room.

They spread out a few blankets on the floor and gather three pillows to rest their heads. It’s makeshift and shabby, nothing like FUG’s luxury beds and the expensive bedsheets Khun can afford, and everyone’s still celebrating loudly in the other room.

All three of them are fast asleep in minutes.

—

When Baam wakes up, it’s to loud snoring and a heavy weight on his chest.

He blinks at the ceiling a few times before sitting up, gently sliding the still-snoring Rak off of his chest.

I… made it back.

He steals a glance at Khun wrapped up in his blanket. The way they both sleep suits them: Rak is splayed out and snoring open and carefree, Khun is turned away and closed into his blanket. Both of his hands are hidden under it as he holds the pillow under his head— does he still sleep with a knife in hand? His hair doesn’t look as disheveled as it should after sleeping for so long, so he must not have moved very much, which makes it possible that he does.

That... Baam feels a little twinge in his chest at that. What had Khun’s life been, before they met and these years they’d been apart, to make him so afraid? Suddenly, he wants to... Baam can’t really tell, but reach out, maybe, make Khun feel safe and happy— and wow, when did Khun get so close? Baam jerks his head back, pulling his hand from where it was about to land in Khun’s soft blue hair. Khun needs his rest, Baam decides, and he doesn’t want to wake him up.

He steps outside softly, checking his Pocket as he leans on the balcony and looks up at the false sky. He has a message from Endorsi that reads: Meet me at the gate by 2 PM. If you don’t, I’ll kill you.

Baam just laughs.

—

Shibisu and Wangnan drag everyone into the main room to play drinking games. Khun’s about to make his escape like the last time, but is dragged into it anyway when Baam asks him to stay, since it’s the last night before Shibisu’s team leaves for the next floor. That bastard knows what he’s doing right now, Khun realizes quickly: his eyes are shining with mirth after intentionally making a show of asking him to stay and play with them.

Khun sighs in defeat, sitting next to Baam on the floor in the crooked circle everyone’s formed. Baam gives him a bright, guileless smile and Khun suddenly has a very personal understanding of how much his own snark must irritate people (this, however, does nothing to curb how much he’ll be using it in the future). Khun’s not a fan of alcohol or getting drunk in general, and if he remembers right, Baam is a terrible lightweight. It doesn’t take much sleight of hand to swap the nearest bottle for a non-alcoholic substitute from Khun’s lighthouse.

Baam takes a sip and gives Khun a curious look, and Khun leans into him and whispers, “If I’m going to get dragged into this, I might as well get some good blackmail.”

Baam giggles and nods at him in agreement when Wangnan interrupts loudly, “Viole! Khun! You want to share what’s so funny with the rest of us?”

Baam blushes down to his neck and violently shakes his head, and Khun takes the bottle from him to take a swig from it before answering, “I don’t know, have you managed to pick a game for us to play or did you gather us all here just to watch you argue until we all get drunk?” Wangnan deflates quickly and Baam has to quickly hide a snicker (“Seriously, Viole?!”) before Shibisu snarks back, “Do you have one to suggest then?” “Unlike you, I spend my time doing useful things, not drinking myself silly.” “He totally just can’t think of one,” Prince interjects with a sneer. Hatz adds, “Earrings is just too much of a coward to admit that he doesn’t have any friends to drink with.” “You want to say that to me again, Hara-kiri?” “Do your stupid earrings keep you from hearing me properly?” “If you want me to kick your ass that badly, you can just ask.” “Can’t you two just drop this for one night?”

They eventually agree on Truth or Dare, and while Khun does get the blackmail he was looking for, he (along with Goseng and Baam) gets stuck with the job of ferrying people back to their rooms for the night so that they don’t just stay passed out on the floor of the main room (at Baam’s request). Baam laughs at Khun grumbling as he’s stuffing a snoozing Endorsi in his lighthouse, and Khun delights in Baam’s yelp as he hops onto the side of his Blue Shield without warning, causing him to almost drop Prince and Ehwa.

Khun has to admit, this was a lot of fun.

—

Baam asks Khun to help him cut his hair. Khun agrees.

As Khun takes his long hair in hand, Baam sheepishly apologizes for not following Khun’s advice for talking proper care of his hair. It pulls a shocked laugh from Khun; he hadn’t remembered giving him that lecture at all until now, and he waves away the apology.

“I’m sure you have plenty of good excuses,” he reassures, “but I’ll be holding you to it from now on.”

Baam smiles brightly, nodding so vigorously that Khun has to remind him to keep his head still and then stifle a laugh at his embarrassment. Baam’s hair smells like blood and screams and tears and loneliness, eight years too much of it to ever be washed out, and when Khun cuts off everything below his neck all in one go, Baam heaves a sigh of relief, one Khun guesses is the first in years.

After it’s done, Baam looks up at the false sky.

—

A month. It’s been a month since the workshop battle ended.

Baam came back to the us. We passed the test without any problems, and earned the right to go up to the next floor. Everything seems to have worked out well, but in fact, this is only the beginning. Emily disappeared from the Archimedes. Where could she be now and what is Cassano planning to do with her? And most importantly… where is FUG? They tried to set me up.

Apple, Micheal,… …and Rachel.

“I want to hear more stories about… what the Outside of the Tower is like.”

I won’t let them get away with this. Even if Baam tries to stop me, I will get her.

—

Baam’s late to the meeting Hwaryun scheduled. Khun teases him lightly about it, but Ehwa tells him later that she found him looking up at the false sky, some nonsense about a fairy tale someone told him about the sky.

“You must be glad,” Hwaryun taunts him, “Now, you have more time to find Rachel.” Khun only turns his head enough to meet her eyes.

“Did you think I wouldn’t know that you’re making a team to find Rachel, behind Viole’s back? The reason why you calmly accepted my suggestion was that you thought it would be a burden to go up the Tower with Viole right now, right?”

“You are trying to kill the girl who used to be your best friend’s everything. If Viole finds out, how will he act towards you?”

He makes an agreement to meet in a year at Train City, a smile plastered on his face. He hides his teeth, because the backs of them taste like lies. That’s to be expected: he’s been cut and carved from lies— he learned how to make and break trust before learning how to keep it, to hide the truth with locks and traps and smoke and screens until it damn well doesn’t exist anymore.

When he offers his hand to shake, it’s a calculated risk: he may be made of lies, but people trust you more if you seem non threatening and vulnerable. As Khun shakes his hand, he keeps his other hand in his pocket to keep the decks of cards he has hidden up his sleeve from slipping.

They fall anyway, because of course they do.

They always have, whenever Baam’s involved.

—

Khun feels his skin crawl restlessly like a billion tiny sweetfish swimming through all of his cells, only getting more intense with each step he takes towards his room. He looks out of the open hallway at the false sky, Hwaryun’s taunts coming to mind, and he’s filled with rage so white-hot and primal that it almost surprises him.

Baam’s still chasing after Rachel, he’s known that — he didn’t even need Baam to tell him to know that because he understands, he understands that Baam’s doing what he never did. Hwaryun’s probably allowing it because it gives her an excuse to force him to grow stronger for whatever purpose FUG needs Baam to fulfill, and she was right, he needed the extra time in order to—

She’d called him Viole, she’d called Baam her god. Khun’s almost as disgusted at her as he is at himself, but he’s never claimed not to be a hypocritical asshole.

Khun knows that there’s forces much greater than him at play here; he’s made that mistake once: he’d believed that any floor test was simple enough to plan and slash his way through, he’d believed the Tower and all of its gods were small enough to contain in his hands.

He doesn’t care. He’d like to not ever have to hear that shit again.

False kings, false gods, false stars lighting up false skies — Khun’s sick of all of it.

—

Before they leave the Wolhaiksong resort that night, Baam checks his inventory to make sure he has everything he needs. He finds three large books he’s never seen before. They have similar fancy leather covers with elegantly minimalistic yet intricate engraving. They look like they’re very old, older than he can even imagine, he realizes on a closer look, since they look like that after being preserved with Shinsu. Out of curiosity, he opens one to a random page.

He’s faced with charts and diagrams of great clouds of light, explanations too dense for him to make sense of at the moment, but there’s lots of blue annotations in a handwriting that looks very familiar for one he’s never seen before. He opens the others to other random pages and finds that they’re all the same way, filled with the same familiar annotations in all kinds of colors, contrasting the old black print of the books. Baam realizes in awe that the books are about stars, pages and pages full of skies and stars, and they’re real.

”Stars are just a legend. Even if you go up, the only thing you’ll reach is this floor’s roof. That blue sky is created by shinsu, and the bright thing at night is just a light ball. I heard there are stars in the Outside world, but they don’t exist, at least, not here in the Tower.”

He can feel shock pricking at his eyes, and looks again at the covers of the book for a title, a name, anything—

and feels tears run down his face.

FROM THE LIBRARY OF KHUN EDUAN.

#i experimented a lot with my style here and i think i like it a lot #lots of scenes in tog are really really dense and you have to pick them apart a lot when youre reading so heres my process of doing that #plus some of my own stuff sprinkled in #and im sorry for how late in the day this is i had some personal complications with posting #khun aguero agnis #the 25th baam #khunbam #team baam #team sweet and sour #tower of god #vi writes #tog secret santa

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hysteriium · 5 years

Text

The Irony of Fate [1]

Gif not mine folks!

(A/N): HEY okay so I know this is kind of taboo considering the whole controversy surrounding this film and while I don’t agree with the labelling, I don’t wanna get political on my blog. I think Joaquin is an amazing actor, he’s a lovely person and I’ve completely fallen head over heels for his portrayal. I’ve loved the Joker ever since I was a kid (guess I’ve had coulrophillia for as long as I can remember lol), I’ve watched him evolve on screen, and in the comics, for as long as I can remember and I guess, as dumb as it sounds, it’s a character that’s been part of a large chunk of my life. So, in sum of my very long, convoluted message, I hope the people who may have a problem with me writing a fic/series on Arthur Fleck/Joker, are able to respect my position as I am with theirs; everyone’s entitled to hold their individual positions, and I won’t fight that, what you believe is totally okay and I’m not here to shoot it down. Thank you :) - Kat

M A J O R S P O I L E R W A R N I N G S!!! (IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT ALREADY PLEASE DO NOT READ).

Summary: Arthur hated his life. That was no secret. He could pull out a list of the reasons why if someone had to ask. Perhaps he had pissed off fate really badly, a time he couldn't seem to recall. Or perhaps, not that he believed in it, in a past life he had behaved so reprehensively that he was cursed for the entirety of his reincarnated existence. At this point, anything would make more sense than his continual bad luck - make more sense than his life. Was he doomed to be miserable for the rest of his time on earth? Or would the woman he spotted from his window instigate a rapid spiral of change?

Word count: 2134

Warnings: none; let me know if you think there should be any.

It was cold.

The meandering, tickle of wind brushed against Arthur’s half-bare form, caressing the soft skin of his chest, while weary arms wrapped around his fragile body, riddled with goosebumps. The front of his neck, which was exposed as it rested against the top of his sofa had his head dangling off the rear of it. He ignored the chill that spread across his body, a shiver that travelled as swift as a racing river; icy and immersive. Encapsulating.

It was the only thing he had felt in days.

Perhaps weeks.

His hair was long and untamed, the fluffy strands which occasionally brushed up against the structure of his cheek, due to the wind, acted like a concerned friend.

Or at least that was what he thought.

In all honesty, he wasn’t certain what friends felt like.

The flashing of the tv screen before him was disregarded, as well as the noise it discharged; with its aim nothing more than to provide background noise to Arthur, he lost himself in the static it transmitted. Though the thought spirals, which occurred day after day, were far harsher, and unlike the little device in front of him, couldn’t be switched off.

As he eyed the ceiling, he became conscious of the paint chipping away at the corners of the roof as well as the water damage caused by small leaks from the apartments above him. It had led to the discovery of discoloured small sections in the ceiling; sunken, and dark were the bubbles that formed. Most worrying of all, was the mould which peeked out from the fragmented paint, festering and collated. It strangely didn’t bother him, however, he couldn’t bring himself to care as his blue eyes raked across the surface of the cream, shabby ceiling. Vacant and void of emotion. Cold and uncaring.

Another breeze crammed itself through the window, dancing its way to him.

The cycle repeated.

Shivers.

Goosebumps.

Thought spiral.

Wind.

Everything was the same.

That was, until he heard something.

Something new.

It was melodic, yet stifled as his thoughts suffocated him. It trickled inside from the alleys of Gotham, crossing his open, dilapidated window.

Singing.

And it wasn’t the type of singing you heard every day - no it was touching; unique. And it came from deep within. From the heart. It was something rare, something Arthur had only heard a few times in his life. While he was often surrounded by music - his mother's influence - he rarely connected with any.

This though...this was different.

The tune wrapped around his form like a firm lead of rope, binding around his chest with a great, complex knot, one impossible to escape, and further, one impossible to unravel. The spell had been cast, and he had been enchanted.

He lifted his head from its lazy hanging position, abruptly sitting upright, supporting his back against the couch while his fingers fiddled in his lap. Instantly, he found himself drawn to the window, hypnotised like a man in love as he stumbled towards it, scurrying.

Another gust of wind.

His hands were shaking. Whether it was from the sudden feeling of liveliness or nervousness he couldn’t distinguish, though they gripped the window frame tightly and he thrust his head out, first hitting the top of his head against the extendable part of the frame, before shaking the pain away and righting his position. Wild eyes darted across the filthy, littered Gotham streets, the busy, gloomy city sinking into his now sparkling, curious eyes, searching for a source.

It took a few moments before he finally found it - a woman - just across the road from his apartment, meters away. She stood in front of a store, an acoustic guitar in her grasp, one hand sliding up and down the neck to find the perfect notes, while the other strummed. Her guitar case was fixed below her, open as bills, pennies and dimes were scattered inside it, tossed in by those absently walking by. In a way, the thought of those strolling past, who had yet to stop and appreciate her sheer talent, made the bushy brows at the top of his head crease into a frown. His blood boiled. No one appreciated art these days.

She wore a red dress, elegant and fitting, extremely well dressed for the streets of Gotham. Almost strangely formal. She was beautiful though, graceful even, as her form swayed with the music, completely invested in the lyrical masterpiece that passed her lips.

Arthur had to pinch herself to make sure she was real.

To him, she was otherworldly. Angelic.

He was frozen and rendered speechless as his breathing caught in his throat. Even though he was observing her from his dingy window like a common creep, he felt compelled to talk to her, to get to know her, to know every little detail about her. Was she kind? Was she as sweet as she looked? What was her favourite colour? Did she like comedy?

As he continued to mentally question her from above, he felt reality slipping from him. It was escaping from his grasp, melting like candle wax, or perhaps like putty in his hands, the goop raining down from the gaps of his fingers. He could feel the daydream occurring, the blurring of his vision as he zoned out on her form - and only her form.

The only important thing illuminating the dull, insignificant seconds that plagued his life like a cancer.

He’d walk up to her, a hand nervously fixing his hair, tugging at the strands if he encountered a knot. First, he’d wait for her to finish the rest of her song, standing nearby with an encouraging smile, one she’d promptly return. She’d continue the sway of her hips, a move he’d find hard to restrain his eyes from drinking in. Somehow he’d manage.

He’d practically be bursting with excitement when she finally reached the climax of her song, clapping frantically. She’d bow, a large grin plastered on her face as she does so.

“What’s your name?” She’d say.

“A-Arthur. M-my-my name is Arthur.” He’d stutter out, the fidgeting of his fingers while noticeable, he’s thankful she ignores.

“Nice to meet you, Arthur!”

He’d perform a little dip of his head, an idiosyncrasy he couldn’t help as he laughed nervously, replying with a soft, “you too.”

Next, he’d compliment her - on her singing. He’d be honest too, trying his best to articulate the feelings they evoked within him. It was a difficult task. Arthur learnt that the hard way as they carried on talking for a while.

It remained this way, soft, sweet and casual - until he made her laugh.

It was the most beautiful, infectious sound he’d ever heard. It was something to add to his ever-growing list of likes. He was well and truly hooked, an addiction he wasn’t willing to shake off.

Like a curse, something he could never stray too far from, he’d think about the dreaded, intrusive laughter that tended to emerge at the worst times. He’d obsess over its emergence, wondering just when exactly it would spontaneously occur. Would she accept the card he’d force into her hand? A simplistic explanation of his condition? Would she understand? Would she think him a freak?

Even in his mind, he couldn’t escape ridicule.

The negative thought threw him off track. No longer was he able to picture her smiling eyes boring into his own, the large stretch of her grin, and the teeth that briefly bit into the bottom of her lip as she laughed, a small involuntary action. No longer was he able to picture himself smiling back, his lips pursed into his lips, the soft crinkle of his eyes and the subtle rise of his brows. It faded away like a fog, the happiness that bubbled in his stomach popping along with it as he snapped back to reality. Harsh and brutal. The upturn of his mouth deflated like a tire, slow and agonising once he was confronted with the truth.

He hadn’t actually gone up to her. He was still centred at the window in his mother’s grossly, illegally defective apartment; trapped in a home he firmly believed had never met the standards, even in its inception. Along with the new outbreak of ‘super rats’, a phenomenon he was well acquainted with, things were only set to go further downhill.

Because of this, he’d have to settle for the next best thing.

He disappeared from the window, retreating into one of the other rooms. Hands gripped the wood of the chair - one precisely chosen for its comfort; a chair pleasant enough to sit down on without his backside turning numb. After he dragged it to the window, the continual, ear-piercing groan of wood against wood was a sound that had piqued his mother’s interest from the other room, an attraction Arthur quickly and almost desperately shot down. Once he found himself semi-relaxed in the chair, he rested his head against the window frame. The air which blew against his face, filtered through the lifeless room, lifting the curtains beside him.

He didn’t know how long he sat by his window, absorbing the stunning tune which serenaded his ears. The setting sun had coloured Gotham by then, and the beautiful girl before him. Its orange glow sunk into her skin, somehow making her more dazzling in his eyes. All he knew was that he couldn’t peel himself away, nor his eyes, or attention. He was well and truly charmed.

All good things must come to an end though, a concept Arthur hated. When she finished her last song, his heart leapt out of his chest, and his gut churned with dread. Was he ever going to see her again?

This thought was promptly put aside when she finally looked up at him, their eyes locking. Although she was some distance away, he could still see the slow smile forming on her face and the small wave she gave him.

He quickly, and rather nervously returned the acknowledgement, the mini-debate in his head promptly cut short as his mind blanked and he darted for the door. Turning the doorknob with extreme force, he threw the door open and slammed it behind him, running for the stairs. The elevator in his building had a bad track record, and had done nothing in the past but inconvenience him. He was sure to miss her if he took it - hell, he wasn’t even sure he’d catch her taking the stairs.

Nevertheless, he persisted, shoving the thought away.

His feet moved on their own accord, his hurried descent echoing throughout the empty stairwell. It was multiple, exhausting flights before he got to the bottom. His heart was racing and his breathing was ragged as sweat formed on his forehead; not only due to the strenuous workout he had endured but also because of the fear of her departure. In a burst of confidence only then had he decided to talk to her, a confidence that seemed to completely leave his disappointed form once he reached outside, slamming into the fire escape exit and into the littered streets. She had left, and he had been too slow.

He sighed.

Off Arthur went, performing the walk of shame back to his apartment after searching for her red dress for the 100th time. He ascended the stairs, hair hanging low, along with his head fixed towards the ground.

Oh, the irony of fate.

-----

It was a few days later when he saw her again. She popped up into his mind a lot, more than he’d like to admit. Her beauty, which was not something to sneeze at was often the first thing he thought of, followed by the songs she sang. It was this he remembered most and he often found himself replaying them, a calming mantra as he relished in her delivery. He found he did this when he was having an especially bad time.

The effect she had on him was yet to dissipate.

Considering the imprint she had left in his life, despite Arthur observing the woman for what had probably only been a few hours, he could recognise her voice anywhere.

So, it was quite a shock to Arthur when he heard her voice on the television. At first, he hadn’t been able to pinpoint it, believing she was outside again. The thought had the blood rushing to his cheeks and the sweat glands in his palms working into overdrive. It took a few more seconds for Arthur to realise that the beautiful, unique voice that had once, for a short period, softly soothed his woes was in fact, right in front of him on the cubic form of entertainment.

On the Murray Franklin show.

#arthur fleck x reader #joker x reader #dc x reader #batman villains x reader #kind worried for this fic ngl #clowns #clown x reader #slow burn #i think #pls no hate #not trying to start shit #joaquin phoenix joker #joker 2019

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gimmesumsuga · 5 years

Text

Sweeter than Sweet (78)

AO3 link

Pairings: Jimin x reader, Yoongi x reader, Jimin x Yoongi, Namjoon x reader, Taehyung x reader, Jungkook x reader, Jin x reader.

Warnings: mentions of sexually explicit acts, non-consensual blood-drinking, self-hatred.

Word count: 3k

Previous / Next

If the below gif belongs to you, please let me know so I can properly credit.

Namjoon had never intended to stay this long when he’d stepped foot into her dimly-lit studio apartment during the early hours of the morn’.

A lettings agent might describe the place as cosy but cramped would be by far the more fitting adjective. A tired looking kitchenette, a slightly off balance dresser and a barely-double bed fill what little space there is, and whilst it may be sparsely furnished Namjoon’s thankful that it’s clean. True, it’s a long way from the opulent surroundings he’s become so accustomed to, but as they say, ‘beggars can’t be choosers’.

It’d been the shade of her hair and the sway of her hips that had first drawn him to her, nothing much deeper than that. Easy on the eyes, she’d seemed equally easy prey as tipsy as she was on leaving the club in which he’d first spotted her; her looks so similar to yours as she’d danced beneath the flashing lights that he’d sworn she must’ve been your twin.

Of course, you have your differences. She’s far feistier than you. She laughs louder and longer and had had no qualms in stumbling home with a stranger on her arm, lacking your coy smiles and blush, petal pink.

“Oh fuck, Namjoon!” Her voice was rougher than yours, too, he discovered. Husky from her nicotine habit, he’d hated how harsh it sounded when she’d moaned his name; a problem easily solved by a hand wrapped around her throat. It was all too easy to pretend she was you once silenced - even easier when bent over on all fours, his jutting hipbones slamming bruises into her behind.

The strands of her hair had looked identical to yours twisted around his fingers but there’d been none of your gasps and keens when he’d grabbed in fist and tugged; none of your soft sighs or desperate moans. It’d been a simple enough task for him to conjure them into his mind, though, and your doppelganger had been all too happy to let him drag her around into any position he saw fit - to use her body to live out all the fantasies he’d been saving up for you until both were utterly spent.

He’d considered killing her, then, and tells himself he likely would’ve done had it not been for a stroke of serendipity; a lucky coincidence that benefited them both. Her apartment sits almost opposite the bar in which you work, it turns out; her large window providing the perfect perch from which to watch its patrons come and go, blissfully ignorant of any watchful eyes that may linger on their backs.

Namjoon had fallen asleep after their tryst that night with the knowledge that his preoccupation with the woman curled at his side had cost him his chance to see you, but it wouldn’t happen again. In the nights that followed, he promised himself he’d be sure to take advantage of the fortunate circumstance with which he’d been blessed.

She’d woken up late the next morning, flustered and hungover, and had been too concerned with getting to work on time to waste any she had to spare on asking Namjoon to leave. Tugging on her coat, she’d hastily told him to make himself at home or see himself out whenever he was ready. What was hers was his it seemed, at least for the time being.

Really she was far too kind - too trusting of the stranger she’d welcomed not only into her bed but also her home. Her naivety reminded him of you, and yet he couldn’t seem to hold that against her. There were much worse things that a person could be, Namjoon supposed.

Perhaps it was an ounce of pity, too, that had meant he was allowed to stay. Maybe she was more observant than she at first seemed. Maybe she’d noticed the shabbiness of his clothes as they’d been shed, or maybe he’d too obviously enjoyed the feel of clean, soft blankets against his skin. It’d been weeks since he’d slept in a proper bed; falling asleep almost as soon as his head had met the pillow.

He’d dozed most of the day away after she’d left, rising only briefly in order to wash and dry his clothes in her machine. There was no real reason to be awake until evening fell, after all, and a quick scan of her apartment had revealed little more than a few dog-eared issues of Cosmo in the way of entertainment, none of which he had any desire to read.

When the time had come for your shift to start Namjoon had made sure he was stationed at the window, watching impatiently for your arrival with a clenched jaw and restlessly bobbing knees, his gaze flicking down the street this way and that. With each minute that passed by the more agitated he would become, rising from his seat to pace along the threadbare carpet only to pause when your insufferable colleague came into sight, entering the bar as Namjoon watched on with clenched fists.

Several minutes passed by before a roar of frustration interrupted the grinding of his teeth, hit suddenly by the awareness of an obvious oversight he’d made. You don’t work on Sundays - you never have. You wouldn’t be at the bar that night, either, and the realisation made him very nearly tear out his hair in a fit of frightful anger.

He’s no fool; Namjoon is well aware of how obsessive his behaviour towards you has become. It wouldn’t be like this if only you’d paid his warning heed and left the manor - if you’d just let him keep you safe. He wouldn’t have to watch you so closely if you were right here by his side.

Of course, the logical part of him that remains understands that after all that’s happened between you that safety is probably the last thing you’d associate with his name. But that was a mistake; a stupid, terrible mistake he’d made when driven near mad with jealousy and blinded by blood lust. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you… not really. He’d just wanted to make you see.

Back to the present, and Namjoon is only just calming down by the time he hears the door to the apartment open and her voice calling out tentatively just after. It’s evident by her wide-eyed look when she sees him sat at the foot of her bed that she’d doubted he’d still be here but she doesn’t seem dismayed by the fact; just the opposite, actually. Her face splits into a wide smile and she teases him about not being able to keep away as she places a bag of groceries down on the counter, crossing the small space to come sit on his lap as soon as he beckons her with a curl of his finger.

She may not be you but the weight of someone warm within his arms is pleasant nonetheless. She’s an outlet through which he can vent all his frustrations, one he intends to make good use of, and within minutes of her stepping through the front door Namjoon has her naked and wanting beneath him, begging for him in ways he only wishes you would. He’s rougher than is necessary when he takes her, he thinks, but that only seems to make her crave him all the more; clawing at his back and burying her face in the crook of his neck, lavishing kisses upon his skin.

She doesn’t hear him grunt your name under his breath as he cums and fills her carelessly with his seed, too preoccupied with her own pleasure to realise that his mind is elsewhere, with someone else. Perhaps she wouldn’t care even if she did.

He wishes that his mind were able to always stay so blissfully distracted, but as soon as he rolls off of her body and onto his back it soon begins to race along to the tune of their laboured breaths. Realistically, Namjoon knows he can only remain a lodger in her apartment for so long. It’ll start looking odd if he tries to linger any longer than just one more night, regardless of how hospitable she may be. Perhaps he should just remove the problem entirely. If he were to do that then he could stay as long as he likes; watch your comings and goings as much as he pleases.

Namjoon turns his head to the side and watches her for a moment, eyeing his host’s profile. Her ample chest is heaving up and down as she catches her breath following tonight’s exertions, her eyes closed and a sated smile stretching out her lips. He’s worn her out so well that he can hear the blood thumping through her veins with every bounding pulse - a sinful siren call - and the sight of her jugular throbbing beneath her skin has a famished Namjoon very nearly groaning aloud with hunger.

It’s been too long since he last fed. Cast out of his home, he’s had to resort to snatching mere mouthfuls from those who least likely to remember or be believed; drunks and bums and other such undesirables. Each one has left a bad taste in his mouth, enough to stave off hunger but never truly satisfy. Part of him wonders if any blood other than yours ever will, now he’s learnt what heaven tastes like.

Unable to resist the call, Namjoon slots himself against her side and buries his head into the crook of her neck, one arm around her waist to pull her naked form flush with his. The fragrance of her perfume lingers on her skin; a somewhat spicier scent than yours but by no means unpleasant. He nuzzles into her and she laughs, unalarmed, and why should she be? She has no idea of his nefarious nature, nor how close to danger she really lies.

“You know,” she smiles, planting a kiss to the top of his head, “I hadn't really expected someone like you to be so cuddly.” Namjoon chuckles wryly in response to that and places a kiss of his own to her slender neck, tightening his grip around her waist.

“Someone like me?” he queries curiously.

“Yeah, you know; tall, dark-” Namjoon tilts his head up to meet her eyes, surprised by the warmth that greets him there. “- Devastatingly handsome.” He laughs again at the sight of her cheesy grin, tucking his head back into the gentle slope of her neck.

It reminds him of something you would say; a sweet, stupid joke that’d make you blush as soon as it falls from your lips, eyes twinkling.

“I’m full of surprises,” he murmurs lowly, the timbre of his voice making her squirm a little in his arms, her thighs pressing together. If only she knew what dark secret to which he’s referring - the same secret that has him kissing his way down her jugular, lips pressed to her pulse and fangs aching with desire.

She hums contentedly, arching her body into his and tilting her head to the side in encouragement of his affections.

“Joon…” she sighs softly and he feels her fingers running through his hair, too-long nails dragging at the roots. Her pulse begins to race with excitement and the sound of it thudding through her veins is what proves to be Namjoon’s final undoing, able to resist no longer.

His draws his lips back to bare his pointed teeth, digging his fingers into her flesh as he plunges; embedding them into her neck.

Her reaction is both uninhibited and instantaneous; her soft limbs turning rigid as agony hits like lightning and her shrieks of terror fill the apartment, bouncing off the walls. Molten copper gliding across his tongue and slipping down his throat - warm, rich and thick - Namjoon tries his best to shut them out, keeps his eyes tightly closed as he rhythmically draws his nourishment from her veins.

It’s hard, though, when he feels her tugging at his hair and then shoving against his chest, kicking her legs in a fruitless attempt to get away. All the while she’s screaming, crying, and he’s not had anyone fight him like this since he fed on you. He barely even realises the fervour with which he’d begun to feast is already waning, frowning distractedly as he sucks at her wounds and pins her to the bed with his far larger frame.

“No, stop, please!” she cries, and it feels all too familiar; all too visceral, all too raw. “Please, d-don’t!” she begs through tears, “Namjoon!”

It was a mistake to purposefully seek out someone so like you, he sees that now. As her naked body writhes in agony beneath him it’s your cries of pain rather than hers that Namjoon hears; it’s your tear-streaked face he sees behind his eyelids. Unbidden, the memory makes it feels as though his ribcage is constricting around his lungs - a sucker punch right into his sternum - and the nectar that was at first so exquisite now tastes bitter as it passes over his tongue.

He doesn’t want to remember what he did to you; doesn’t want to have to live it all over again. He never intended to hurt someone he cares about so deeply or lay yet another relationship to ruin, and yet that’s all he ever seems capable of doing, isn’t it? It’s a struggle to remember a single person that he’s loved whom he hasn’t let down; you, his parents, his brothers. Each one pains him to recall, but none so much as the first shameful failure from which all of this started; his inability to save his precious sister from a fate she’d done so little to deserve.

It should have been him. He should’ve been the one to die - to wither away in a hospital bed so she could live on and become a far greater person that he could ever hope to be. What would she make of the despicable creature he’s become? The answer is painfully obvious, really. She’d hate him, maybe even more than Namjoon hates himself, and deep down he knows he’d deserve it. There’s nothing separating him now from the monster that’d preyed on his vulnerability, used his desperation to lure him and then so cruelly inflicted him with this curse.

He’s no better than that. His betrayal of his brothers and his attacking you finally proved it once and for all. Truly, he’s little more than a monster.

The remorse that consumes him is so potent it makes him feel as though he’s drowning in the blood he’s stolen from her. He chokes on the next mouthful, the sound of your pitiful cries still ringing in his ears as he lurches away. So hard does he cough and splutter that crimson droplets splatter across her sheets like some macabre piece of art, and as he struggles to catch his breath he can hear her sobbing and scrambling to get away - a thud as she feels to the floor in her haste to flee from the demon in her bed.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon chokes out, “God I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t even realise the sob that follows is his own until he puts his head in his hands and tears wet his palms. His chest heaves with the weight of them, the passageways of his throat becoming raw with all the rambling apologies that follow and the heavy sobs that rip through it.

“J-just… p-please,” he hears her say in a weak and trembling voice. Namjoon looks up - her blood drying on his lips - and is horrified by the sight that greets him; his victim cowering naked in the very furthest corner of the room. The hand that’s pressed to her neck is stained sticky red, tears flowing unrestrained from eyes that are wild and scared and staring. “P-please don’t hurt m-me.” She flinches when regret hits him so hard that he has to place a hand on the bed to steady himself. “I w-won’t tell anyone. P-please, just-just l-leave.”

Namjoon nods his head because it’s all he can seem to bring himself to do, tearing his eyes from her and rising from the bed as if on autopilot. He scrubs the blood from around his mouth with the back of his hand as he searches for his clothes and pulls them on, each whimper and sniffle that he hears threatening to start his own tears anew.

He’s never felt like this before; never felt such remorse for doing what comes so naturally to his kind save for the one occasion that he fed from you. And that’s the problem, it seems. Ever since that time, no longer can he feed without your face appearing in his mind. He can’t enjoy it the way that he once did, too preoccupied with the memory of the shame and the sadness that overwhelmed him following the expulsion from his home.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon repeats once more, his palms extended toward her as if trying to soothe a wounded animal, placating. “I give you my word - you won’t ever see me again,” he promises, fleeing out into the night so that he need not look again at the terrified expression that she wears upon the face that looks so much like yours.

Stepping out onto the pavement, Namjoon stares blankly at the bar sat on the opposite side of the street. His thoughts are bleak; longing for the day he might no longer have to feel this way - no longer loathe himself to the very core. He knows he’s deserving of the hate he’s received - there are numerous ways in which he’s earned it - but he’s just so... tired of it after all these years. So very, very tired of it all.

The one singular thing that keeps him going is the desire that consumes him; to see you, to watch out for you; to make sure you never come to the same harm again that he put you through.

Maybe, Namjoon hopes - Maybe one day he might be able to make all of this up to you.

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Betting on the Bullseye (Part 5)

Summary: Emma Swan loses a bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush to be her date to her office’s annual fundraising gala. Killian Jones is that celebrity crush. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost. What she doesn’t expect is for him to say yes.

Rating: Mature (particularly this chapter if you know what I mean)

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Found on Tumblr: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Clarifying that there are MORE than five parts so no one freak out :D

A/N: I just wanted to add the gif because it’s relevant to this chapter.

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic@profdanglaisstuff @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld@jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog

Killian: Do you want to go out tonight?

Emma: Where?

Killian: I mean, I was thinking a casual night out. We grab something to eat, go to a quiet pub, have a nice time outside of the house for your last night.

Emma: Are you going to be too tired?

Killian: No. You’re going back to Boston tomorrow. I can sleep when you’re gone.

Emma: Alright, see you at home, I guess?

Killian: Yeah, see you at home, love.

She falls back against her bed, stretching out on the mattress and closing her eyes as she smiles and her phone falls against the sheets. God, she’s dreaming. She has to be dreaming because she just doesn’t have things like this happen to her. Or maybe she’s simply in that new relationship (is that what this is?) stage where she’s giddy and happy and things are full of possibility. It’s like she’s walking on some kind of cloud, but really, she’s very solidly on the ground.

Mostly, she’s happy.

So damn happy.

Her phone goes off again, and she fumbles around on the mattress until she finds it.

Ruby: Work is miserable without you. Please come home.

Emma: Miss me, did ya?

Ruby: Terribly. I’m never letting you leave again.

Emma: Pretty sure that’s kidnapping and is illegal.

Ruby: Yeah, well, I’m also going to murder Kathryn. I can’t handle her without you.

Emma: That’s illegal too.

Emma: I’ll be home soon. I promise.

And there’s the kicker to her happiness. She has to go home. It’s not that she doesn’t want to go home. She does. She misses her shit-hole of an apartment, her friends, and even her job, but when she goes home, she’s going to miss Killian. Especially now that she’s been with him, talked to him, kissed him…it’s…there’s pros and cons either way.

But right now, she really doesn’t want to leave. She wants to stay, to make out with Killian some more, and maybe go back to that café and get more waffles. They were damn good waffles, he’s a damn good kisser, and this has been a damn good trip, better than she ever imagined really. Time is winding down and somehow speeding up, and she wants it all to stop for just a moment.

Or maybe just a night.

Or maybe just tonight.

She wanders down to the Santa Monica Pier that day, figuring she can’t very well be visiting there and not go to one of the most iconic sites in the city. It’s packed, people milling about everywhere, but she can’t complain, especially as the smells of salt and sand invade her senses. She’s a tourist just like everyone else, and she most definitely pays the nine bucks to ride on the ferris wheel and get views of the beach and the pier from above, taking pictures on her phone from her view up above. It’s beautiful, so different from Boston even with their similarities. Her friends would love this. Ruby would want to go shopping at all of the boutiques, Mary Margaret would want to take Leo on the rides even though he’s too small and take pictures of him holding a giant thing of cotton candy, and David would complain while secretly enjoying it.

She wonders if Killian has ever been down here. She should have asked when he mentioned it as something for her to do, but she just kind of assumed that he had. But now that she thinks about it, he might have just been listing things in the area. He’d like the views of the ocean, the way the water stretches out further than the eye can see, and she really hopes that one day he’ll get to do this if he hasn’t already.

When she comes back down to the ground, she finds something to eat, munching on a hot dog as she wanders further away from the pier and to all of the small boutiques, her eyes widening at the price range of all of these shirts. Hell, how do people buy any of this stuff? But then she finds a little place, kind of shabby from the outside, and it’s full of small antiques and knick knacks, all cheap and probably fake, but she’s kind of in love with the homemade jewelry and scarves.

So she buys a few long gold chains with pendants at the end, folding them away into her purse, and feeling like it’s been a good day in her adventures.

Even if she’s kind of regretting getting a hot dog when she could have literally eaten anything else.

Killian gets home from set around nine, charging into the house and pressing a quick kiss against her lips that leaves her reeling almost as much as him running upstairs to take a shower, yelling as he goes about her needing to be ready to go in twenty minutes. He just…he kissed her in greeting when he got home from work. That may very well be the most normal, boring thing that could have happened, but it’s not. She can’t remember the last time she had someone like that, and she’s not even sure that she has him now. She doesn’t know because they haven’t talked about it. Everything has just kind of happened.

But maybe that makes it better, more natural. Things have always felt so forced with guys in the past.

Pushing these thoughts down, she heads upstairs to her room and changes into some skinny jeans and a black tank top, the shirt flowing around her waist while the lace or her mustard bralette shows through the top. The ocean air has been helping to curl her hair while she’s been here, almost completely changing the texture of it, so she doesn’t bother doing anything to it. She simply flicks on some eyeliner and mascara before taking one last look in the mirror and heading out into the hallway only to collide with Killian, their bodies crashing together until her hands grab onto his biceps and his grab onto her sides right over her jeans.

“Hi.” His eyes are blown wide and always so blue. “You, uh, you ready to go?”

She nibbles on her bottom lip, and she smiles when Killian’s eyes flicker down to her lips. She presses up on her toes and moves her arms to wrap around his neck, their bodies coming together while her lips press against his for a lingering moment. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

He takes a moment too long to respond, his tan cheeks suddenly becoming flushed, and a sense of pride settles in her stomach. She did that to him with just a kiss. She has that kind of effect on him. This isn’t a one-sided thing. Not at all.

“Good,” he finally responds, pulling back and holding his arm out until she loops hers through his. “Let’s go then.”

Their Uber takes them to a bar downtown. It’s crowded, but she can already tell that it’s a relaxed place. The lights are dim, almost too dark, and a band plays in the corner of the room with plenty of tables filled with people listening along. She moves to sit at one of those tables when Killian shakes his head, the baseball cap he’s got on pulled low nearly hiding his eyes, and guides her to a table off in the corner of the room.

“You know, if you wanted to get me alone all you had to do was ask.”

He snickers under his breath before pulling her chair out for her and waiting for her to sit down. She does, scooting in while Killian moves to sit on the other side. “As much as I’d love to be there in the midst of the crowd, it’s just not a good idea for me.”

“Oh. I didn’t…I forgot for a minute.”

“Tis nothing, Swan. Maybe a bit later in the night, when everyone’s had a few more drinks we can go over there. There’s usually good bands here.”

“Yeah? You come here often.”

“Your pick-up lines are so original, love.”

“I mean, you took me out of the crowded bar and got me alone, so you’re not exactly super original.”

“Please,” he scoffs, flashing her a smile and waving her away. “Can I buy you a drink?”

He waggles his eyebrows as he says it, and she throws her head back in laughter while her cheeks flush. “So original. Um, I think I just want a beer. I don’t care what kind.”

“Perfect.” He stands from his chair and leans down to press a kiss against her temple. “I’ll be right back.”

She watches as he walks away, her eyes flickering over his body as he slyly moves the crowd, not a person looking his way. She wonders what it’s like being such an expert at having to actively blend in like that. In almost record time, she sees him leave the bar with two beer bottles and a basket of…onion rings.

Bless him.

“Milady,” he greets, bowing down and placing the basket in front of her. “I may have swindled you some food.”

“Trying to buy my affection then?”

“Well of course.” He winks before sitting down, his chair noticeably being pulled closer to hers so that they’re right next to each other, and she pops a ring in her mouth, chewing on the fried dough. “I saw them on the menu and knew you love them. There were cheeseburgers too, but I’ve had one of those here before and it was bloody awful.”

“How often do you come here? Like, legitimately, no cheesy pick-up lines involved.”

Killian shrugs before leaning back into his chair and pulling his arms above his head until his hands land on his hat, tipping the bill up. “Occasionally. I don’t get out of the house a lot to be honest. I’m usually not even home. Last year, God, I was never home last year. You never know how much you miss your bed until you haven’t slept in it for four months.”

“Where were you?”

“Filming in Australia for The Artist. It was beautiful out there, but I did miss this place.”

She takes a sip of her beer, watching Killian watch her over the bottle. “So does that happen a lot? The travel?”

“It depends. Though this show is the first time I’ve worked from home in a long time. I’ve never had a lot to tie me down, if I’m honest, so I’ve never minded the travel too much. I do miss my family, though, but before Aiden, Liam and Elsa would come visit wherever I was when they could.”

Her heart begins racing in her chest, the thoughts she’s been pushing down all night, all week really, of her never really being near Killian start crashing down around her while the band plays a slow song in the background.

Those two things just don’t seem to mix.

Suddenly there’s a hand over hers on the table, warm fingers twining together with hers, and when she looks away from them, she can see his blue eyes staring right at her while a soft smile graces his lips. “I always come home, though, Emma. The people around me are far more important than any role. I love it, but it’s just a job.”

She knows he’s talking about his friends and family, but a part of her believes he’s talking about her. It’s too much, and she needs to change the subject before she does something like cry in the middle of this bar. That would be ridiculous.

“Hey, there’s a dart board over there. You want to play?”

Killian hums next to her, leaning in a bit too close while his thumb rubs back and forth over her knuckles. “You’ve only had the one drink. And if how we met tells me anything, it’s not to play darts against Emma Swan when she’s sober.”

“You’re not being any fun. Come on.” She gets up from her chair, letting Killian’s fingers fall from hand only to be replaced by his fingers grabbing onto her wrist and her waist, a thumb snaking beneath her tank top and looping through her belt loop to tug her closer. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

He quirks an eyebrow, and she swears his cheeks blush under the dim lights in the bar. She also sure that she just set a record for going from terrified to kind of turned on in the fastest amount of time possible.

“How so, love?”

“You’ll have to come play to find out.”

She walks away knowing that he’s going to follow, and maybe she slips a little bit of extra sway into her hips. They should go slow, take these things step by step, but honestly, she doesn’t know when she’ll see him again and she really, really wants to sleep with him.

It’s bad.

And this is totally, like, their tenth date, so really, what’s the point in waiting some more? The fact that they didn’t jump each other last night is a miracle. She likes him. A lot. And that’s not going to change just because she’s got a few reservations about him…or his job…or both really. But that doesn’t matter tonight. None of it does, not anymore. This is supposed to be fun and like she thought earlier…natural. She’s going to take things as they happen.

She picks up the darts, ones with red tips, before handing Killian, who is sure enough right behind her, the other set.

“Game on?” she questions, quirking her eyebrow and smirking, using his own moves against him.

“Game on.”

Killian dips his head down and captures her lips in a kiss that she was in no way expecting. She gasps when he tugs on her upper lip, and he takes it as encouragement, his hands dipping into her back pockets and palming her ass while her arms wrap around his neck. It’s intoxicating, much more than the beer had been, but then she can suddenly feel the darts in her hand poking her skin and remembers what they were about to do.

“Hey,” she gasps when she pulls back, putting space between them, “you’re trying to throw me off my game.”

“Swan, I’d do no such thing.”

“Liar.”

He leans down to kiss her again, and she has to keep herself from smiling into it. “Did it work?”

She turns then, gathering her darts before aligning her stance and throwing, the dart landing almost directly on the bullseye.

“I guess not.”

“Well, we’ll just have to work on that.”

“I guess so.”

Killian waggles his eyebrows, and she laughs at how ridiculous this entire situation is. They’re really challenging each other to some kind of sexual dart throwing contest, and she is here for it. She’s also got to tell Ruby about this later and thank her again for that stupid bet, even if that will inflate her ego.

It may be worth it.

He takes a step up to the faded line on the floor, bumping her hip and making her scoot over before lining up his arm and tossing the dart, the pointed end landing just above hers.

“You’re not the only one with skills, Swan.”

He accentuates the word skills, his voice deepening in timber, and she feels it against every inch of her skin, heat pooling in her belly. God, this was a dumb idea. She should have thought this one through.

“Yeah, well, that was a one-time thing obviously. It’s not going to happen again.”

It goes on like that for awhile, the two of them teasing each other while playing two different kinds of games. The tension in the air is palpable, and it takes everything in her not to smile or laugh or break down into a fit of giggles. When did she lose the ability to flirt in a bar?

“So, darling, I’m still wondering how exactly you plan on making this game worth my while. I remember a promise like that.”

She hums, stepping in front of him and brushing her hand over the front of his jeans where there’s a noticeable bulge, causing Killian to hiss and visibly clench his teeth. Gotcha. “You want to make a wager?”

“Depends,” he dips his head down and growls into her ear, “what do I get when I win?”

“You’re not going to win.”

“So confident.” He bites down on her ear. Hard. And she whimpers, her entire body shaking. “But you’ve lost a bet like this before.”

“True, but I think it’s worked out pretty well.”

His whiskers brush against her cheek while his hands find the skin at her waist, thumbs inching up to brush under her breasts, and her hands find their way to his back pockets, yanking his hips into hers and feeling his growing erection against her. Yeah, totally natural the way that this is progressing.

“It has, but we’re supposed to be making a bet here. If I hit the bullseye first, you come home with me.”

So they’re betting on the bullseye then.

“And if I hit it first?”

“You come home with me.”

She barks out a laugh, some of the tension breaking between them, and she pulls back to look in his face, seeing the total seriousness there except for the smallest uptick of his lips.

“And what will we do while at your home?” “Whatever the hell you want.”

“You need to work on your negotiating skills because I could want to sit on the couch and eat with nothing else.”

“Aye.” He releases her, separating them and grabbing onto his dart from the stool. “But I think this works out for both of us, and those are the best kind of bets.”

Without any preamble, he throws his dart, the small arrow landing with a thud on an outer circle. He’s been throwing nearly perfect throws all night, and she knows that he did that on purpose. Yeah, even if they made the stupidest bet of all time, they’re both winning.

But she’s still going to brag about it regardless. For an indeterminate amount of time.

She lines herself up, making sure her elbow is straight, and throws, the dart landing directly in the bullseye.

“Killian, take me home.”

He kisses her the moment they get back into his side door, the lock clicking into place as his lips move over hers and his hands find their way into her hair. He’s gentle, the fire from earlier simmering instead of burning, and she sighs into the kiss, letting her lips slowly move over his. In the back of her mind she knows they’re moving, her legs walking backward while Killian guides her, but it’s not until her back hits against a wall and his hips rut into hers that she realizes they’re next to the staircase.

His fingers tangle further into her hair, yanking a bit at the roots, and when she bites down on his bottom lip, he makes a muffled groan, his hips stopping in their movements while he just holds her there.

“Emma,” he breathes out on a shuddered breath, the air hot between them. “Emma, you want this right?”

She nods against him and tucks her fingers into his beltloops, pulling him back against her while her lips start moving against his jaw, kissing the whiskers and tasting the salt on his skin. “I want you.”

“Bloody hell do I want you, love.”

He devours her with a kiss that’s deep and hot, commanding really, and she lets him, titling her head to let their tongues tangle together while his hips rut into hers. It becomes messy, tongues wet and warm mixing together while she holds onto his jeans for dear life, not letting go until she can’t breathe.

“Bedroom?”

“Bedroom.”

Killian practically bounds up the stairs, taking two at a time, and when he reaches the top while she’s still only halfway up, he turns around with flushed cheeks and a sheepish smile, his hand immediately tugging on his hair. It’s only then that she realizes he’s lost his hat somewhere along the way, and she breaks out into giggles while hurrying up the stairs.

“What’s so funny, love?”

He sounds breathless, broken, his voice husky, and it almost fully brings her back to realizing how aroused she is.

Almost.

“You lost your hat,” she whispers, finally reaching the top of the stairs and wrapping her arms around his neck so she can play with his flattened hair, “and I don’t remember when that happened.”

“I don’t either.”

They both laugh into the kiss, and when they begin moving down the hallway this time, she’s aware of every step and every movement. She’s aware of the way her shirt is somewhere near the bookshelf that houses his photo albums, and she’s aware that his t-shirt is right next to it. She almost keeps going, heading to her room, but Killian turns into his, the unfamiliar surroundings taking a moment to get used to before the back of her knees hit a mattress and she falls backwards onto it with Killian hovering over her, caging her in, invading her space (always).

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and she yanks him closer so that she can taste it again herself, salt and beer on his tongue, and when she nibbles on it, she’s not disappointed by the way he groans into her mouth. She wants to keep going, to keep kissing him, but he drags his tongue against her jaw and traces down the lines of her neck until he’s worrying a bruise into her collarbone and she’s arching her back off the mattress.

Her hands find his bare back, nails digging into the skin, and she urges him closer so that his chest hair brushes against her breasts. But he doesn’t let her do that. Instead his hand that’s not in her hair finds her lace covered nipple, brushing over it and kneading into her skin.

“That,” she gasps, pushing her head into the mattress and fisting the comforter, “keeping doing that.”

He chuckles against her neck while his finger continues to rub against her breast. But then he’s moving, kissing down her chest and on the swell of her breasts until his thumb flicks her bralette down and the cool air of the bedroom hits her nipples.

“Bloody glorious,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss against each nipple before his tongue circles her right breast and she has to close her eyes to try to deal with the sensations. “So beautiful.”

He bites down then, and she moans, the sound almost unfamiliar to her. In the background, she swears she can hear the ocean outside, but she doesn’t care. All she can focus on is Killian and how he’d feel inside of her, the two of them coming together completely. His lips leave her breasts and kiss down her stomach while her chest heaves, hooded eyes watching his black mop of hair moving down her body until he gets to her jeans. He looks up at her then through his lashes, and before he can even ask the question, she nods, giving him permission.

The buttons on her jeans are popped and the zipper unzipped, her legs quickly bared of anything and everything. His whiskers brush against her inner thighs, and a bead of sweat forms at her temple, falling across her skin.

She doesn’t know what he’s going to do until his fingers brush through her folds, feeling the wetness that’s pooled there. She gasps, the warmness and roughness of his fingers shocking her, and he looks up at her with a smirk and a chuckle.

“It’s nice to know I’ve had such an effect on you.”

He thrusts a finger into her then, and her back arches off the mattress, much higher than a few moments ago. He takes a few minutes to explore her, quickly learning things she likes as he toys with her, whispering encouragements and asking subtle questions that she tries to answer all while the pleasure is far too much. She’s almost there, her entire body primed to fall apart when he pulls back and she’s left wanting so much.

“What the fuck, dude?”

He snickers against her thighs before kissing back up her body, paying special attention to her breasts, before slanting his lips over hers. “I couldn’t take not being inside of you any longer. I’m but a man, love, and I’ve wanted you for what feels like a long time.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Aye.”

He rolls off of her until he’s shucking his jeans and his boxers down his legs, his cock, full and thick, suddenly on display to her. She gulps, thinking about what’s about to happen, and she absolutely cannot wait. She watches as Killian finds a condom, opening the package and rolling it down his length while she fumbles with her bra, letting it fall onto the bed.

When he’s finished, he takes a step back over to her, grabbing onto her ankles and pulling her forward until her ass hangs off the edge of the bed. He doesn’t say anything else, but he looks at her and smiles while he slides into her in one quick slide, full and heavy and thick, the both of them groaning at finally being connected. He’s…perfect inside of her, and while it takes a few thrusts to really get into a rhythm, he finally does. Her legs wrap around his waist, hooking together at his ass, and he leans over her, making sure that his lips are always against some part of her body while he moves inside with slow, leisurely pumps that drag against her walls and drive her insane.

“This is – it’s good,” she mumbles, adjusting herself and tightening her legs around his back while he leans down and hovers over her, kissing at her chin.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he mutters as he pumps himself into her, nibbling on her skin as she tries to breathe, her entire body moving under his and her head buried against his side. “So glorious. Everything about you is glorious.”

It’s all too much. She wants him too much, her words broken as his thrusts into her, somehow making his way further inside with every push and pull. But then she looks up at him and can clearly see that he’s just as overwhelmed as she is, that he’s feeling all of this too.

“Fuck, love. I – ”

“I know. Me, too.”

She comes with a shudder, her nails leaving crescent moons in the muscles of his skin as heat flutters within her and around her, and he doesn’t take too long to follow her, her name broken on his tongue. That was…that was perfect and not at all what she was expecting. She doesn’t know what exactly that was she’d dreamed about, but this was better in its simplicity and its passion.

Later, she curls up against him, craving the affection and comfort of being in his arms, and even if she wasn’t completely sure of him earlier, her past demons nipping at her heels, she’s feeling sure of him now. His lips brush against her forehead, and she looks up at him and those ridiculous blue eyes.

“I’m glad you came to visit me, sweetheart.”

A tear escapes her eye, unwarranted and unwanted with the realization that tomorrow is goodbye for an unknown amount of time coming back to her with new meaning. He wipes it away with his thumb before kissing his finger and the tear away.

“It’s been one of the best weeks of my life, Killian. I – thank you.”

He smiles softly down at her before pulling her closer, her leg hooking over his. “It’s definitely been the best week of mine.”

They fall asleep, but they also fall into each other in the middle of the night, each time better than the one before as they learn more of each other’s bodies, the newness fading into experience. When she wakes in the morning, the night comes back to her in the soreness of her body and the way that Killian’s wrapped around her, his body hot against hers. This morning she knows she can hear the ocean outside, waves crashing into the shore, and she smiles as she listens to it mixed in with the rhythm of Killian’s heartbeat beside her, two steady beats that calm her.

She stays that way for awhile until her stomach growls and her head begins to throb, the call of coffee almost as strong as the call of nature, and she very carefully tries to get out of bed without waking Killian. she thinks she’s success, her body almost completely off the bed when Killian speaks.

“Hey,” Killian mumbles, rolling in bed and grasping at the back of her bare thigh, skin still unbelievably warm compared to the house, “where are you going?”

“Downstairs for coffee,” she answers, trying not to whimper as Killian’s fingers move up and down her leg like he’s trying to coax her back into bed, “but I need something to wear because your house is freezing.”

“I think your jeans are somehow over by the balcony door.” “Yeah, that’s not happening. Those are like wearing spanx over my entire body. Where’s your closet?”

“In the bathroom, on the right.”

She hums before walking that way, putting an extra sway in her hips like last night. Just naked. She knows Killian’s staring at her ass, and, well, she can’t help herself. She also still can’t get over how nice his bathroom is, white marble and warm chestnut cabinets everywhere, and when she opens his closet, she’s in no way surprised by the size or the fact that everything is organized by color. Most everything is in blacks and dark grays, the occasional blue or deep purple shirt, but what catches her attention is the bright green sweater with garland and bright ornaments draped across it.

“No way,” she laughs, walking over to it and pulling the ugly Christmas sweater off the hanger. It’s the one he wore in his response video, the same one she has in her closet. “I can’t believe he kept this.”

She throws it on, the material falling just above her mid-thigh, and uses the bathroom before finding her way back out into the bedroom where Killian’s fiddling with his phone. She coughs, very loudly and extremely fake, and he looks up, his face impartial until he catches a glimpse at what she’s wearing. His lips tick up while his eyes crinkle, and he laughs, a full belly one, while she sways toward him, the garland of the sweater moving with her.

“Bloody hell, darling, what possessed you to put that on?”

“What possessed you to keep it?”

His right eyebrow ticks up, and his hands find their way to her hips under the sweater, pulling her down on top of him so that she’s straddling his hips, his skin warm against hers.

“What? You’re telling me you didn’t keep yours?”

“Only because we have a tacky Christmas sweater party at the office every year.”

He hums as his hands run up her sides over the sweater, finding their way to rest at her neck. “You know, the first time I ever saw you, you were wearing this sweater. I was actually in this very bed and thought you were beautiful.”

“That sounds a little pervy, Killian.”

His eyes roll, and he leans forward to press a quick kiss against her cheek. “Shut it, Swan. That’s not what I meant. Robin showed me your little video, and he found you to be positively charming just as I did.”

“Yeah, well, I’d like that video to be purged from the internet.” His eyebrow quirks again, and she swears her heartbeat flutters. “Not that I’m not glad I’m here. I am. I know I said that last night but – I really…I really like you.”

His thumb moves against her cheek, affection absolutely brimming in his eyes. “I like you, too, darling. You need not worry about those affections being returned.” He rolls his hips to make a point, and she scoffs, laughter making its way in somewhere while she tries to keep heat from pooling between her thighs, hunger more important than anything right now. “Obviously. I’d also really like that breakfast you were talking about before I see you off, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

“You have to stop saying that.”

“Never.”

She climbs off his lap, adjusting the sweater and leaving the bedroom while Killian gets dressed behind her. She’s absolutely giddy (God, when was the last time she was like this?), and she jogs down the stairs, practically sliding into the kitchen and making her way to the pantry, grabbing the bisquick for waffles. She hears a door slam while she’s shuffling through his syrup, trying to find one that’s not sugar free or gross, and when she leaves the room expecting to find Killian waiting for her, he’s not.

His brother is.

“Why the bloody hell are you in my brother’s house?”

#betting on the bullseye #captain swan #cs fic #cs ff

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eddies-trailer-babe · 6 years

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Who Am I Truly? Prologue Part 1

Summary: You were the third and final child of the John Winchester, just another one of his flings after Mary gone wrong, but what John didn't know was he had done it with your mother who was a very powerful witch and quite close with Rowena so naturally when your mother was hunted and killed, which let Rowena take you in and teach you a little magic of your own.

Claire Novak(eventual) x Reader

word count

Warning/s: Violence, hints a sex, some language

A/N: So this is the prologue to the Who Am I Tuly series, also for the purpose of me wanting Claire and the reader to be teens they were bot born in 2001 so they are both 17 in this fic, I really hope you all enjoy it although it’s probably crappily written, I don’t know how long this series will go on for, this will deal with some mental issues but don’t worry I will warn about sensitive topics, Feedback is very very welcome and I will probably need it.

*I don’t own any gifs or characters I put in except the reader and my original ideas for the series*

March 2nd, 2001, Marty’s bar, Chicago Illionois

John Winchester trudged through the doors of Marty’s bar after a particularly long and tiring hunt, still desperately trying to find the thing that had killed his late wife Mary, his aggression made clear by the way his shoulders and back were tensed up. John walked up to the bar and signaled the bartender.

“Whiskey, double the rocks,” he grumbled. The bartender nodded and made his drink, but before John could take a sip someone laid a beautifully manicured hand on his, and addressed the bartender in the most sultry voice John had ever heard.

“Put his drink on my bill please, Mark.”

Mark nodded and walked away to the other customers. John glanced at the hand wrapped around his and looked at the person connected to it. This woman was pale, she had gorgeous flowing chestnut brown hair which framed her face perfectly, a cute buttoned nose and beautiful blue eyes to go.

She took John's breath away. He looked at her for a second longer before he spoke, nodding his head.

“Thanks for buying’,” he said. She smiled at him, it was clear that they were instantly attracted to each other, and they both knew it.

“No problem sweetie, you looked tense and I figured I could take the stress of paying away. I’m Annaleise, by the way,” she purred.

“I’m John, John Winchester. And may I say, you are gorgeous,”John looked at her mesmerized and spoke in a much softer tone.

Annaleise giggled. “ Well aren’t you sweet! Dare I say that you aren’t so shabby yourself Mr. Winchester. So what do you do for a living?”

John, knowing he couldn’t actually disclose his hunting way of life, knew to lie through his teeth. And so he did, he smiled calmly and said;

“I’m a mechanic, though I go all over the country for work. I'm more of an adventure mechanic. And you, what do you do?”

Annaleise smiled, she knew that John was going to lie, just as she was about to do. Annaleise knew about John being a hunter. She was a witch and what supernatural creature doesn’t know about John Winchester, the man travelling across the country to find out what happened to his wife? So Annaleise smiled and said;

“I work in the pharmaceutical industry, it’s pretty boring actually.”

Throughout the night, the hand Annaleise had wrapped around Johns’ had progressed to drawing shapes on the back of his hand. Slowly becoming more and more tipsey, the two of them sat laughing at the bar and neither ever took their eyes off the other. Her hand eventually ended up resting on John's thigh and John's atop hers.

John was the one to make the first move, bringing his hand up and brushing a piece of hair from in front of her eye to her ear and pushing it gently behind it. Annaleise made the next move by putting money on the bar counter, taking John by the hand and leading him out of the bar. She let John take the lead. He brought her to his car and pushed her against it, slow to put his mouth on hers and sure to prolong the kiss for a long as he could. He decided that she tasted like cherries, and she decided that he tasted like whiskey. He pulled away, both of them slightly out of breath, and like a gentleman opened and closed the car for her.

What went on that night was passionate, filled with moans and heavy breaths as they dissolved into absolute bliss…

2 months later, Four Seasons Hotel, New York

Annaleise was holding the little white stick that would determine her life forever in her hands, which is why she called her closest friend and fellow witch Rowena Macleod to come and support her. She had two minutes on her phone timer when a knock at the door came and echoed throughout the large hotel room. Annaleise went over and opened the door, relief flooding through her when she saw the familiar redhead standing there with a smile on her face. Annaleise welcomed her in with a hug and led her to the bathroom.

“How much time is left dear?” Rowena said, noticing the little stick.

Annaleaise looked at her phone to see that there was only 20 seconds. 20 seconds to wait and see if her life would be changed forever.

“20 seconds,” Annaleise replied. Now all they had to do was wait.

BEEP…BEEP…BEEP

Rowena and Annaleise looked at each other nervously before Annaleise grabbed the little white pregnancy test and turned it over.

Positive.

Taglist:

@phoenix-draws77 @anotherwaywardsister

#supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagines #spn x reader #spn imagines #claire novak x reader #claire novak imagines #sam winchester #dean winchester #rowena macleod #castiel #crowley #john winchester

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lunarimagines · 7 years

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A-Z NSFW | JUNGKOOK

[ Full disclaimer: I got the idea from tenseoyong’s a-z nsfw series. I highly recommend checking theirs out!!! ]

A/N: The gif is mine; I don’t steal gifs. Everything is underneath the cut!

a - aftercare

He’s so shy after sex. Jungkook really wants to take care of you and make you feel pampered and alleviate any of the oncoming soreness he’s just unsure how to do all of that. His go to is cuddling, whether it’s cuddling and talking about nothing for hours or cuddling until the two of you fall asleep- although he always waits for you to fall asleep first- he loves cuddling after sex. Jungkook loves massaging your body or running his hands up and down your body softly, feeling every curve.

b - body part ( their favorite body part on their s/o and/or on them )

His favorite body part on you is your hands. Despite what they can do to him to make him feel good, he also loves intertwining your hands with his as he pounds you into the bed sheets or when you ride him. Either way he likes the feeling of your hands in his because it makes him feel calmer and more assured.

In terms of his favorite body part on himself it’s definitely his tongue. Whether his tongue is making you hiss as it smooths over the hickies he’s bit into your neck or making you orgasm multiple times, he really just loves the effect it has on you.

c - cum

He’s terrified of cumming inside of you. He prefers cumming on your stomach, your back, or- and this is usually the case- in a condom. The condom makes it easier to clean up but it’s more more exciting and incredibly hot to Jungkook when he sees you all fucked out with his cum on you. He’s kinda nasty that way...

d - dirty secret

He snapped a nude photo of himself once. Half hard and fully naked, he’d sent the nude photo to none other than another member. He hadn’t meant to of course, but the contact names were so close to each other in his recent messages and he was so nervous that he’d just pressed send before checking and whoops? Of course he got a lecture about sexting and having his phone hacked so needless to say he never did that again...

e - experience ( how experienced they are )

He understands how sex works.... it’s not too difficult. But when it comes to having sex with another person he is entirely inexperienced. Jungkook is shy and kind of uncomfortable when explicit remarks are thrown his way who wouldn’t be and he was a silent, blushing, and confused mess when the other members talked about watching porn. Therefore, it’s safe to say he has no experience with another person.

f - favorite position

You on top of him, riding him like there’s no tomorrow. This goes back to his favorite body part of yours which are your hands. He adores the feeling of them being clasped with his own tightly and squeezing slightly every time he suddenly bucks his hips up. He also loves looking up at your face as you ride him and enjoys knowing that he’s the one making you feel so good.

When he’s in control he prefers missionary or even doggy style, but as aforementioned he enjoys holding your hands during sex so missionary is usually his go-to position.

g - goofy

The first couple of times the two of you had sex he was very serious and you could tell he was nervous. However, as he got to know your body more and learned what you liked and what you didn’t like he became a lot less serious, though he isn’t really goofy during sex... There was one time when the two of you tried to have sex in the shower and things kept being knocked over and there were a couple falls which could be counted as him being “goofy” during sex, but usually it’s rough, passionate, and mostly silent.

h - hair ( how well they manscape )

Jungkook has a pretty smooth stomach so I think he at least trims. He most likely doesn’t full-on shave, although the first few times you two had sex he did. Now, he doesn’t really shave when he manscapes, but he does tend to trim and keep things nice and neat.

i - intimacy

Loves an intimate sex session, especially after having a rough day. Jungkook really isn’t one to take their anger out during sex- though he can if you ask him to- and he really is much more intimate during sex. He loves to praise and he loves to be praised. Again, he loves holding hands during sex which shows that he really does enjoy intimate sex more than rough, angry sex. He’s really soft until you ask him to be a little more rough or he feels extremely comfortable with both your boundaries and his boundaries.

j - jack off

He really tries not to jack off often, but he does tend to when he showers. He’s pretty quick about it and loves that the water cleans up after him. Jungkook’s probably somebody who swallows their moans when they jack off and all there is to hear are little puffs of air and small whimpers, so he’s also pretty silent when he jacks off. Clean, silent, and speedy basically.

k - kink

He has a praise kink for sure. It may take some time to get him to figure out some of his other kinks, though he seems like somebody who likes role playing and bondage, especially if he’s the one being bound to the bed. There’s something about having you in complete control that really gets him going.

l - location ( their favorite place to have sex )

After the shower incident he’s a big fan of having sex in the bedroom or even the kitchen and only at YOUR place. He would literally die of shock and embarrassment if another member walked in on him having sex at the dorms. He enjoys how you grasp onto his muscles when he lifts you up, but wall sex is rough on your back so he doesn’t like having wall sex. That’s why the kitchen is a pretty good alternative because he can hoist you onto tables and counters which means you have to grab onto his arms.

m - motivation ( turn-ons)

Really small things like running your hand through his hair and tugging on it slightly or placing your hand on his thigh can turn him on. It’s not that he’s horny all of the time, it’s just that those motions remind him of what you do during sex... which gets him thinking about sex with you... which gets him really turned on. Also having you teasing him or making bets- usually sexual bets- with him will turn him on.

n - NO ( turn-off)

Public sex, sex at the dorms, and you calling him “daddy” are big turn-offs. Calling him “daddy” as he’s fucking you makes him stop immediately and pull out. Basically, sex is over for the night. He also doesn’t like the idea of public sex because getting caught scares the shit out of him and it’s not very romantic. It’s pretty much the same idea in terms of having sex at the dorms. Seriously, if another member caught him having sex he would die right then and there.

o - oral

He likes to use his tongue on you, as aforementioned. He’s not too shabby his first time pleasuring you orally either. In fact, Jungkook can make you orgasm more than once with his tongue, something you found out the first time the two of you had sex. It’s a little weird to him that he likes the taste of you but he gets over it pretty damn fast when he hears your breathy moans from above him and he feels your hands run this hair, tugging at it slightly. Jungkook gets better at oral sex each time the two of you have sex, and he really wants to try face sitting/face fucking...

p - pace

At first he’s a little all over the place. Eventually he gets a pace that’s a little on the faster side and is a little rough because he loves hearing your moans and breathy “that feels so fucking good Jungkook.” He may like intimacy, but that doesn’t mean he’s slow during sex by any means. Of course he does enjoy when the pace is slower as well but he prefers a faster pace.

q - quickies

Way too shy to ask you for a quickie... If you notice that he’s a little uncomfortable because his jeans are too tight around the crotch area and you suggest a quickie he sure as hell isn’t going to turn it down. Jungkook just isn’t going to go out of his way to ask you for one because a) he’s unsure how one asks for a quickie and b) he doesn’t want to embarrass you or himself by asking you for one. He’ll sit uncomfortably before he ever asks you for a quickie. If he ever does get up the courage to ask you for one he’s going to be blushing so hard and speaking too quickly that you probably won’t even understand what he’s asking you...

r - risk

Jungkook likes the idea of risk but he’s not big on putting the idea into practice. Shower sex was as risky as it got... period. He’s way too inexperienced to try out crazy, new things right away. Once he gets more comfortable with sex he may be more risky but for now... no way.

s - stamina

As a dancer you know he has a lot of stamina. He can go for as long as you want him to. He may be sweating a lot and breathing heavily but he can go for hours with very small resting periods in between to let you recover.

t - toy

Silk ties or scarves (they don’t necessarily have to be silk but silk feels nicer on the skin) for bondage. He wouldn’t mind handcuffs except for what if you lost the key? Or if you were handcuffed to the bed and HE lost the key? The thought of calling the fire department and having them help the two of you out of the situation is mortifying to Jungkook so he happily sticks with ties or scarves as bondages.

u - unfair

In reality he’s a little shit. He loves to tease you and get you all riled up only to say he’s tired and leave you to fend for yourself basically. This goes back to the bet thing mentioned earlier. Usually the bets are along the lines of who can get the other more riled up or who can go the longest without initiating sex, and in both instances he’s a little tease. During foreplay he’s also very unfair but during sex he always makes sure you climax, even if he does deny you of your orgasm for a little bit.

v - volume

Jungkook is a soft grunter and whimperer. He enjoys hearing you whine and beg and groan and whimper but he himself is pretty quiet and controlled in the noise department. He does enjoy praise so usually he’s only a little bit louder when he’s giving praise, but even then he’s whispering into your ear usually and sending shivers down your body because of how hot his raspy sex voice is.

w - wild card ( authors choice )

Back to the nude he accidentally sent to one of the members... He made them swear to never tell you anything: that he sent it to them, that he was going to send it to you, that he even took the nude in the first place. He never brought it up again but he still thinks about it from time to time and blushes madly, especially if you’re around or if the member he accidentally sent it to is around when he thinks about that time...

x - xray

(I will not be doing x-ray… feel free to look up photos of their crotches on your own time.)

y - yearning

As aforementioned, it’s the little things that turn him on. He is pretty good at controlling his thoughts and his body so if he is yearning it’s usually a little more difficult to tell. With that being said he does have a fairly high sex drive, he just doesn’t act on it often and he can usually take care of it himself.

z - zzz ( how fast they fall asleep afterwards )

Jungkook has this thing where he must fall asleep after you do. Even if he tries to, he can’t fall asleep before you. He’s not quite sure what it is. Maybe it’s wanting to make sure you’re okay and comfortable. There’s also something calming about you snuggling closer to him and your breathing becoming deeper and even that allows him to fall asleep. Therefore, he always falls asleep after you.

#jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook reaction #bts reaction #bts smut #kpop reaction #kpop smut #bts scenarios #kpop scenarios #myimagines

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fandomimagines-andsoforth · 7 years

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Stay with me (Enjolras x Reader)

(A/N): This imagine will be one of the goriest and depressing fan-fictions I have written. But, I have put all my heart into this one-shot, and I hope you enjoy it. If you really enjoyed it, please like and comment down below. Feel free to contact and DM me for requests on imagines, head-canons, and one shots. (THAT GIF THO)

Enjolras is a little OOC, That’s because, In the books and movie, he had no interest in women. In this imagine, he is courting one. So that goes against the character a smidge. But He's still the passionate and intense Enjolras we all know and love.

When You’re fatality injured, Enjolras struggles to save your life. Will you survive? Or could your death be the reason he’s never had any interest another woman? Find out in the next chapter.

Word Count: 2,000

Warnings: Gore, Blood, Violence, Police brutality, Angst, Serious feels.

(I do not own any of the named characters, as I am not Victor Hugo. But damn it I wish I was.)

It was just supposed to be a small Les Amis de l'ABC rally. You were just supposed to support your fiancé. The French government wasn't supposed to impose. And You weren't supposed to be shot.

You don't remember much of anything clearly. You do recall a loud crash, the stumble of hooves on cobblestone, the screams of the crowd as they were shoved and trampled. And fired shots ringing out.

One particular scream caught your attention as you were looking for a way out of the panic, a little girl no older than 7 was standing alone, crying. Just ahead of her a soldier was storming forward on horseback, relentlessly tearing through the crowd, firing bullets at the peasants. He was going to ram right into her or shoot her first.

Little ways in front of you, a frantic Enjolras was shouting your name over the gunfire, desperate to find you among the hysteria. You wanted to go to him, but You couldn't just stand there and do nothing, you had to save her. So, you gathered your courage and bolted to the little girl in an attempt to save her life.

You shoved and pushed your way through the madness. Breathlessly sprinting, you were almost there. The little girl was almost safe in your arms. You were so close.

BANG...

A scream...

Then silence...

The scream was not of your own but of your fiance, Enjolras. Despite the panic, he saw your innocence be shot down and his heart stopped. Everything seemed to slow around him as his whole world collapsed. Enjolras froze and let out a cry of anguish and horror, before barreling towards you.

He skidded across the sharp cobblestone, bloodying his knees. Enjolras shielded your body with his own from the damn soldier's horses. He delicately lifted your head onto his lap and applied pressure to your abdomen. His hands were blood-soaked and his vest was stained, but none of that mattered in the moment.

You were unconscious, but still breathing, thank the Lord. But you were not out of danger yet, Enjolras knew this. You were losing blood fast and he had to get you out of the massacre. He scooped you up in his arms and weaved his way out of the streets.

Everything was blurry and distorted Enjolras felt a wave uneasiness within him. He just watched the love of his life be shot. How could he not be in despair? He knew he had to focus, and he knew he had to get you to Joly. He did not know if you were going to be alive if he didn't get you there in time.

He banged on Joly's flat door with his shoulder, his arms occupied with cradling you.

"Hello, Enjolra- Oh dear," Joly's eyes widened at the bloody sight.

"Please, say you can help her," Enjolras pleaded, his eyes begging and his teeth biting back tears. Enjolras never cried, he was truly desperate.

"Follow me," Joly wasted no time and guided Enjolras through the small flat to a narrow guest room.

The room was small, shabby with a twin bed in one corner and not much surrounding. One single window lets natural light in. Besides the bed, stood a rickety, uneven desk. Methodically placed on top, were shiny, metal needles, scalpels, and jagged instruments, all precisely fixed on a tray. Some looked like torture devices. It was a terrible sight to see. One could only imagine the horrors they could be used for. These were only Joly's tools. He was a bit peculiar in his own way.

Often, Joly was a light-hearted and cheerful person, but he did have a more eccentric, dark side. He was a hypochondriac who studied the morbid and gruesome side of medicine. But admittedly, Joly was indeed skilled in his field of practice. Ever since he went to college with Enjolras and joined the revolution, Enjolras trusted him, even with your life. The most precious thing.

“Set her here,” Joly motioned to the bed. “What happened?” he inspected the wound when Enjolras set you down.

"(Y/n), she..." Enjolras paused to catch his breath. "They s-shot her... There was an attack at the rally. The Français soldiers slaughtered the streets, it was a genocide. They wanted to silence the revolution. Sending soldiers to kill the peasants-" his breath hitched.

"And my (Y/n)- I should have been there, I should have protected her. Damn it, why wasn't I there?" He mentally beat himself and blinked back tears.

"Enjolras," Joly placed a hand on his shoulder. "There's nothing you could have done."

Despite Joly's words of comfort, Enjolras knew that he should have kept you safe. He thought he failed you. It could possibly cost him your life. Joly immediately assessed your wounds.

"A Bullet shell is still lodged in the lower abdomen, it seems it entered a blood vessel that's why she's bleeding out so much." He started to cut your corset open with scissors.

"Judging from the location that the bullet pierced, blood is most likely flooding the lungs. The bullet needs to be extracted immediately or else the blood with clot her lungs and (Y/n) will choke," He finished.

At that moment Enjolras wanted to pass out. Everything was hazy and ill-defined. But he needed to keep going, clear his mind and focus on saving you. Joly hesitated and his expression darkened, “There is... um, a slight grievance.”

“Yes? Tell me. What is it?” Enjolras urged. Why is he tarrying?

"You won't like it and she'll suffer, but I need to keep her conscious for this.”

"No!" Enjolras shuddered at the thought. Was he mad?

"I can't make her suffer through that, there has to be another way."

"(Y/n) needs to be responsive or she’ll go into cardiac arrest, she's losing time," Joly countered.

Enjolras sighed and gave in, "Fine, do what must be done... Just- help her.”

Joly nodded, "Thank you," He pulled out a long syringe of clear liquid. "A shot of naloxone hydrochloride should jump start (Y/n)'s heart enough for her to wake." Joly tapped the needle and some clear liquid squirted out at the tip. He positioned the syringe above her heart. "Hold her shoulders down please.”

Enjolras slipped off his jacket and did what he was told. At least (Y/n) wouldn't feel this pain, he thought.

Joly plunged the needle into your chest. Enjolras cringed.

"It should only take a few moments now." Joly massaged the area where the needle had just been injected. A moment of silence passed as he used more gauze to stop your wound bleeding. While Enjolras nervously anticipated what was to come.

…

You jumped awake, gasping for air and coughing up blood. Your lungs burned for oxygen and your eyes stung with tears that clouded your vision. There was a searing pain in your waist. You couldn't see or hear what was happening around you. Everything was disjointed and confusing. Enjolras held your shoulders down. His heart racing and his palms sweating. This was indeed a nightmare.

"I need you to hold her head up so the blood doesn’t clog her airways," Joly said, about to start.

Hovering, Enjolras positioned your head between his forearms and cradled your head in his hands. "(Y/n)! Can you hear me?"

Panting, you nodded. He let out a sigh of relief “(Y/n), love, look at me."

You recognized your lover's voice immediately, and your tired eyes searched for him. You started to fade out.

“I need you to stay awake,” Enjolras knitted his eyebrows in concern. You felt Joly slice your skin with a scalpel. You moaned and squeezed your eyes shut. The intense agony of your flesh being torn was too much for you to handle.

“It hurts,” you winced.

“I know, I know. Keep your eyes on me," Enjolras coaxed. He cupped your face and stroked your hair to calm and relief some of the pain. He hated every second of this torment. Seeing your suffering is agonizing to him.

"Keep her going just a bit more. I'm nearly done," Joly called from his workspace. He almost had the bullet.

“I'm so tired” the words barely got past your mouth. Your brain hurt and your mouth tasted like rust from the blood.

“Fight it, my love. Don’t give up” He wipes your tear with his thumb. Don't give up, Enjolras repeated to himself. She needs you, don't give up.

You wanted to scream from pain due to Joly's digging at your flesh. Why are you in so much pain? Why won't Enjolras make it stop?

Enjolras saw your fatigue, “Stay with me, (Y/n).” He knew that you could make it, he knew that you were strong.

There was a fiery agony going through your body and you cried out for it to stop. The pain was ceaseless and your head pounded. You thought that your torments would never end and that it was hopeless. You were about to give out when suddenly the misery lessened. Your nerves relaxed and your heart rate slowed.

“It's Finished,” Joly sighed and wiped beads of sweat from his brow.

Your chest rose and fell with exhaustion. Only traces of the searing pain lingered. You wanted so badly to sleep, and return to the comfortable darkness. If Enjolras would allow it, you weakly glanced up at him.

"Sleep, my love." he brushed the stray hairs away from your face, "I'm here.”

You leant into his hand and closed your eyes. Enjolras took comfort in your shallow breathing and turned to Joly in gratitude "How can I ever thank you?"

Joly finished stitching and wiped your blood off his hands, "No thanks necessary," he placed his hand on Enjolras' shoulder "Brother.”

Joly stood and dusted his trousers, "I’ll leave you be with her. You may use the guest room as long as you need.”

Enjolras shook his head, "I appreciate your hospitality but you've done enough. Besides, I wouldn't want to trouble the mistress, Musichetta."

He then gazed at you, "I need to take (Y/n) back to our flat, and care for her there. She'll be safe."

"I understand," Joly nodded. "Let me give you some dressings before you go," He slid open a drawer and handed Enjolras a white bundle of gauze and cloth. "Change them out twice daily and come to me should you need more. However, I think this should suffice."

"Again, thank you." Enjolras slipped the bundle of dressings in his coat pocket. "Is there anything I should know?" He asked.

"Just complete bed rest and she should be awake within the next few hours. But there is a possibility (Y/n) will not remember- uhh," Joly hesitated, "The... events, so to speak, of today."

“Understandable,” Enjolras nodded. It might be better that way he thought, He didn’t want you to remember any trauma of today and you could live a normal life with him, the life you always wanted. Enjolras wanted to give you a life of plenty, where you didn’t have to work so much. You could spend the rest of your days together with a home in the country as a family. But he had to make you safe first.

He delicately lifted you up into his arms, careful not to press into your side as not to harm you further. And made the journey home.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Part Two Coming Soon.

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innerkryptonitebanana-blog · 6 years

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wingedtragedyconnoisseur-blog · 6 years

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Just check out some of our templates…

(All of these come setup for you and ready to go – NOTE: All thumbnails are clickable links!)

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Get these attractive video template bundles, too! With our Famous Animation Studio, you can create many cutting-edge videos only using PowerPoint.

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AND THOSE PRICES ARE FOR ONLY ONE TEMPLATE!

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Grab Your Famous Animation Studio Super Earlybird Now Before the Next MASSIVE Price Jump

Earlybird Closing Alert

The Price Has Been Rapidly Going UpThe Past Week With Every Copy Sold. Once Earlybird Officially Closes This Weekend, They’ll Be a MASSIVE Price Jump to Normal Retail Price.

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[GET] Famous Video Templates Pro DOWNLOAD

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The Famous Animation Studio is a huge collection of Powerpoint & Video studio assets for Windows & MAC… It’s not a software, plugin or WordPress theme.

[ Q ]: How do I edit it? and How’s about compatibility?

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After payment done, you’ll be redirected to the member area. We’ll also instantly send you email registration right after your purchase.

[ Q ]: What is my license?

[YES] Unlimited web projects

[YES] Unlimited video projects

[YES] Unlimited domains you own

[NO] RE-SELL IN ANY WAY

[ Q ]: What is your refund policy?

REFUND PROCESS : send your query to support, DO NOT dispute via paypal, all refund is processing by PayDotCom.

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