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papermatisse · 1 year

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Don't Look Back || K.JM

† genre: horror

† word count: 2.7k

† warnings: automatonophobia, liminal spaces/warped reality, explicit death scene

† synopsis: one of these mannequins is out of place...

† (a/n): third installment of my spooktober anthology event, but ironically the first story I actually finished! this one is based on this mannequin game I played once where you were being chased by mannequins. at first it was creepy, but as it dragged on, it got kinda funny lol. this one does not get funny ☺️

† taglist: @scuzmunkie @hipsdofangirl @hydroyaksha

anthology | main masterlist

Working in retail is hell on earth, but it's not so bad when you have your best friend to suffer alongside you. Shenanigans between tasks, shared breaks for lunch dates at the food court, inside jokes to keep you going through the shift. One inside joke in particular was in regards to a certain mannequin in the men's section.

"Why is he… hot?" Jennifer asked as the two folded clothes on a shelf situated before said mannequin. (y/n) looked up at the mannequin towering over them, wearing the articles of clothing they were currently dealing with, prompting her to snort at the commentary.

"Only you would point out a mannequin's physical attributes."

"No, I'm serious!" Jennifer pushed in her defense, chuckles bubbling out by the end of her sentence. She raised a hand to the man as she began passionately explaining herself. "He has gentle eyes, and the classic Disney prince smolder! And his hair!"

"It's all painted on!" (y/n) couldn't stop laughing along with her friend, who only seemed to grow even more offended with the ongoing dismissal of her newfound beau.

"You're telling me you've never found a painting so beautiful that it keeps you awake all night thinking about it?" At this interjection, (y/n) grew quiet, knowing she's done exactly that and Jennifer knows that just as well as she does. Nevertheless, (y/n) continued her folding with a dismissive grumble, Jennifer giggling to herself as she did the same.

(y/n) spared a few glances to the mannequin, acknowledging the details Jennifer highlighted. The soft, faded brown of his round painted eyes, the chiseled molding of each of his strong features, the almost Adonis like creation of this seemingly out of place mannequin.

The store was older with a variety of mannequins. Blank ones of varying poses, delicate ones with makeup styles straight from certain decades, many of which were broken or dilapidated in a way. The mannequins on display were, of course, the most put together of the bunch, and this included the mannequin perched atop this men's shirt display.

Since that day, the two would continuously tease each other about him. Snapping photos of him as they pass by to send to the other, faux discussing a boy they met only to reveal it was the mannequin the entire time, or merely the subtle winks and glances that fully conveyed their jesting intentions.

Nevertheless, the mannequin, of which the girls had affectionately nicknamed Suho, remained a permanent fixture of the store, even during remodeling. Instead of tucked away at the back in the men's section, he now stood on a display only a mere few feet in front of the cash registers, facing out towards the customers. With his back facing them, it prompted a few more jokes out of Jennifer, easy bait that they both knew was practically handed to them on a silver platter, but still as funny as ever.

"Hey, are you okay manning the station on your own?" Jennifer asked, nervously glancing up from her phone.

"Of course. Why? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, my mom's car broke down on the highway." She sighed, shooting another text from her phone before looking back to (y/n).

"That's tough. Go ahead, I'll be okay."

"Thank you. I seriously owe you one!" With that, she ran off to the back of the store, leaving (y/n) on her own at the register.

She really did mean it when she said she'd be alright. With only about a half hour left until closing time, and with only a handful more customers remaining, it wasn't anything she couldn't handle.

The air was stuffy and the fluorescent lights above were somewhat irritating. A monotonous pop song that has played about a hundred times today alone droned distantly from the speakers, and without her friend to drown it out, (y/n) was beginning to lose herself to the elements of the store.

Discreetly out of the corner of her eye, she could see an old woman, bundled up in a dense purple cardigan, carding through the rack of dresses. As far as (y/n) was aware, this was the last customer, and she highly doubted she'd be buying anything from that selection.

She drummed her fingers along the counter, eyes getting lost in its beige void, waiting for her day to end so she could leave this long and tedious shift. Beyond the grainy ambience of the playlist, she listened to the metallic screech of hanger against bar as the woman pushed aside each article of clothing.

Screech.

It was a cycle of monotony encircling (y/n), in which every element blended together in a jarring cacophony of noise. The woman with her hangers, the next pop song starting up, the low hum of the fluorescent lights above.

But between all of this, an element of surprise somehow managed to slip into the mix. A scrape which sounded so distinct, yet something (y/n) could not pinpoint. It grated upon her ears however, drawing a grimace out of her that had (y/n) immediately glancing up to survey the woman again.

Instead, what she was met with was Suho. More specifically, Suho now fully facing her.

She felt her stomach drop at the sight before her, her jaw falling in a silent gasp as he now faced the cash registers. The positioning of his limbs were all the same, that lifeless and distant stare still directed aimlessly forward.

He was just… turned around.

There was no one here. No one to have moved him at that very moment. The thought rattled her brain, hopelessly attempting to conjure some reason to the almost supernatural display before her, but nothing came to mind. No explanation as to how Suho could have moved.

"Excuse me," a voice startled (y/n) out of her stupor, redirecting her to the customer awaiting service. The old woman. She had chosen her dress.

(y/n) had quickly rung her up, bidding her a good night and thus being condemned once more to a bout of solitude. The fluorescent lights still pulsed above her, the next pop song now well into its playthrough, and Suho was still very much so facing her.

The moment her phone had indicated closing time, (y/n) all but rushed out of the cash register nook, not daring to look back at Suho. She had instead opted to retrieve her phone, quickly texting Jennifer the freaky encounter she'd just had. Though before she could make it very far, however, she patted her pockets, realizing her keys were not there.

In a brief moment of panic, she patted her other pocket, worry shooting through her as she was sure she just had them. That must mean they were dropped by the registers or something.

She sighed, turning around to retrace her steps, though stopping immediately as she stared down the walkway of the store.

In regards to the general layout of the store, carpeted sections of varying genres surrounded the reflective ceramic tiled pathways. Men's section, women's section, children's section. And among those sections were, of course, mannequins. So many mannequins. Mannequins which usually stared forward with a blank canvas of a face.

They do not usually crane their necks to stare at the exact spot you stand in—though that's the reality (y/n) met when she turned around.

Every mannequin in her general vicinity stared at her with those barren faces of theirs, heads all turned in her direction no matter where they stood. The sight had her entire body leap with fright, a brief yelp of shock expelling from her lips as she was greeted by such a sight.

(y/n) took a tentative step forward, eyes nervously bouncing from one figure to the next, monitoring for any movement of the sort, looking out for that telltale scrape of their porcelain-like joints shifting. Yet as she reached the end of the aisle, there was nothing of the sort. No change. They remained staring at the spot she once stood, and as she turned the corner to head back to the register, she felt silly for even toying with the idea of mannequins moving.

As she arrived to the registers, she began rummaging through the various hideaways she could find, coming up empty. The counters were spotless and the drawers contained their usual miscellaneous items tossed in over the years. She began considering other locations to check, and while she stood there in her own thoughts, her eyes naturally wandered up and ahead of her to where Suho usually stood.

Except now, there was no Suho.

(y/n) froze for the umpteenth time tonight, though only for a moment before she rushed over to the now barren spot. And where Suho once stood, there lay her keys, abandoned on his pedestal with no sign of the mannequin.

Without sparing another thought, (y/n) grabbed her keys and booked it for the backroom. Her feet slammed against the tiles beneath here, breath already heaving as she barreled down the long aisle of mannequins whom she ignored at all costs. She didn't care where they were looking. She didn't care if they were even still sitting there. All she knew was that she needed to get out of there as soon as humanly possible.

She yanked open the door to the backrooms. The walkways between the different storage areas and facilities of the store, and the only way to get to the back where she was parked. The fluorescent lighting here was more sparse than that of the store inside, bringing a repetitive pattern of lit spots alongside dimmed ones down the gray walled corridors which seemed to stretch as far as the eye can see.

Why was the corridor so long? Was it always this long?

Why was she out of breath? How long has she been running down this corridor?

She suddenly came tumbling to the floor, gasping as her body collapsed onto the concrete floors of the backrooms. She lay there for a moment in shock, gasping for air, wincing at the scrapes now lining her hands and forearms. A grimace slipped out of her as she pushed herself up, the sound of her weak voice reverberating off the endless labyrinth she had found herself in.

There was only the sound of her huffing and puffing as she attempted to regain herself. And then there was a sound of porcelain dragging against the floor.

With a gasp, (y/n) whirled around. He was a distance away, though still as clear as day. Standing beneath one of the fluorescent light fixtures from above.

Suho.

His expression was unchanged, as was his pose. He just… stood there. Staring at her. Yet even with his painted, stoic face, (y/n) could feel… contempt. Disdain. Like he meant her harm, and would do so at all costs.

She whimpered beneath his glower and quickly staggered to her feet, turning around to keep running down the corridor, though the moment she had stopped looking at him, the sound returned. And when she looked back at him, he was in the ray of darkness between the light he had just stood in and that of the next.

He was approaching her.

A sense of dread washed over her as the realization struck, and hot tears began pouring down her face in endless streams. With one last ditch effort, (y/n) turned and dashed down the corridor, arms swinging rapidly back and forth as her numb legs carried her as quickly as they could, purely fueled off the adrenaline which coursed through her feeble body. Blood pumped through her ears, and the sound of her pulse and her labored breathing masked whatever sounds may have transpired behind her.

She couldn't turn back. She knew turning back was certain death. And at this point, she realized that something was wrong with her surroundings. Something was wrong with the corridor. But there was no time to dwell. There was no time to rest. The moment she stopped running would be her final moment alive.

As if a miracle, the door to the outside finally came into her vision, right at the end of the corridor as it usually is. A smile twitched at the corner of her lips as she booked it for the exit, slamming her body into the dense slab of metal, though screaming in agony as she was met with resistance. She pushed again, pressing at the release, yet it didn't budge.

A screech tore at her throat, fear and rage broiling within her as she repeatedly slammed her fists at the door, begging for anyone to perhaps hear her desperation—her final moments. Yet as the sounds of her yells fizzled into that of sobs, she knew there was nothing more to be done.

In the suffocating silence of the dimly lit corridor, she found herself weakly sliding down the door, trembling breaths and quiet tears coming out shallow and broken. She had hit a deadend, and there was no way of escape. No hope left in her to even believe in any righteous intervention of the sort.

The scraping sound of porcelain drew nearer, and she finally looked up at what was coming for her.

He dragged himself forward, gliding across the cement in a smooth and unhindered manner. His lifeless eyes and unnerving smile continued to penetrate forward, straight ahead at the door, and somehow the lack of attention directly on her struck more terror into her. Inch by inch, he drew closer and closer, fading in and out of the beams of light until he had finally reached the patch of light directly before he'd be where she stood.

And then he stopped. He stood there. Unmoving.

(y/n) felt her hands scrambling for something, reaching out as far as she could from where she lay, hoping to find something she could as a weapon. Though she came up empty with only her set of keys trembling in her hands. She clutched them between her fingers, each key protruding forth like a set of claws, and she cradled her only defense to her chest, waiting for his next move.

It had grown deathly silent for moment, her breath hitched at her throat, and she quaked upon herself in whole body tremors.

Then his finger twitched. A sickening crack like breaking bones, yet he remained perfectly intact. Merely his finger was in a different position. And then his hand. And then his arm. Each followed by that resounding snap as he shifted in a broken and robotic manner. She watched with bated breath and trembling gasps as Suho began ambling forward once more in this terrifyingly decrepit manner, limbs contorting all while those cracks continued to resonate in the atmosphere surrounding her.

Her heart pounded hopelessly against her chest, utter fear squeezing at her throat with a vice like grip. There was no way of escaping. No way to evade the sinister presence creeping towards her with this impenetrable persistence.

As Suho drew nearer, this unsettling sensation washed over, as if the air around her had grown thick with pure malevolence all but emanating off him, suffocating her with endless dread and despair. She felt a presence unlike anything she'd felt before. Something more than just the lifeless form that stood before her.

Suho stood where her feet lay, limbs still jerking sporadically. And in the midst of these jolts, his head finally snapped down to where she lay, prompting her to press even further into the door. A loud and fearful gasp ripped out of (y/n) as Suho collapsed onto his knees, crawling up her body on all fours as she all but begged for mercy—desperate and incomprehensible mumbles while her trembling hands which gripped her keys fell limply to her side.

The cold, icy touch of his porcelain fingers grazed her hot skin, stretching along the planes of her neck, light as they encircled her throat before suddenly clenching with a furious might. Panic suddenly encompassed her as her airways became obstructed, her hands flailing up and grasping at his arms, nails scraping against him, though sliding off with no effect whatsoever. Meanwhile, his fingers constricted against her throat, their stone-like surface burrowing into her skin and drawing warm blood which trickled down her body as black spots began blurring her vision.

His force was unrelenting, all the while staring down at her with those soft brown painted eyes and that charming smiling, the last sight she saw before she finally faded away.

#kim junmyeon fanfiction #junmyeon fanfiction #suho fanfiction #exo fanfiction #kim junmyeon fanfic #junmyeon fanfic #suho fanfic #exo fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kim junmyeon x reader #junmyeon x reader #suho x reader #exo x reader #kpop x reader

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verona2314 · 2 months

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Hello dear readers, new chapter available!

Here is a short extract, I hope you enjoy it.

Summary:

In the realm of Limbo, where souls deemed too good for Hell but not virtuous enough for Heaven reside, Victoria finds herself thrust into an unprecedented mission. When a notorious sinner, Sir Pentious, achieves redemption and ascends to Heaven, it sends shockwaves through all realms. Tasked with unraveling this mystery, Victoria, a minor judge of souls, is sent to the infamous Hazbin Hotel in Hell. For the first time, an emissary from Limbo steps foot into the fiery depths, tasked with observing and judging the denizens of Hell for their potential for redemption. As Victoria navigates this unfamiliar territory, she captures the unrequired attention of the enigmatic Radio Demon, Alastor. Amidst the chaos of demonic antics and the pursuit of understanding redemption, Victoria must confront her own beliefs and judgments. As she delves deeper into the secrets of the Hazbin Hotel, Victoria uncovers hidden truths about sinners, redemption, and the ultimate fate of souls caught between damnation and salvation. With each soul she encounters, Victoria's journey becomes not only a quest for answers but a personal voyage of self-discovery in the heart of darkness.

Charlie

She decided to put the diary back in its hiding place. Her shoulders felt heavy. She looked at the city’s nighttime view before sitting down at her desk to plan a new activity for the hotel. Maybe a talent show? Or a night of stories? And the sports competition she had talked about a long time ago with Vaggie? She had been thinking for a few minutes when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” she responded sweetly. It was likely Vaggie wanting to invite her to bed. It was already quite late. But to her surprise, she was met by a tall, feathered figure with red eyes and a dignified bearing. She clenched her fists nervously. Wasn’t he a noble?

“Good evening, princess. I apologize for the inconvenience my visit may cause, especially at this hour. I beg your pardon, but it was necessary to make this meeting as discreet as possible,” the visitor greeted with a perfect bow.

Charlie merely observed him cautiously, trying to remember who he was.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she began, masking her confusion. “It’s an honor to have someone like you here. I imagine someone important like you is here for important very highly important matters.”

The noble raised an eyebrow slightly, clearly noticing her nervousness. He sighed and shook his head slightly.

“I see that you have certain similarities with your father, beyond just the appearance. My name is Stolas.”

“Yes! Of course. Please have a seat,” the princess replied, even more nervous. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognized him earlier. What was he doing here? The noble nodded and took a seat, crossing one leg over the other. Charlie noticed how graceful her visitor’s movements were. “How can I assist you?”

“Well, princess, a few days ago I had a… productive conversation with your father regarding some issues that have arisen with the nobility. They are not very pleased with the news that the judge from Limbo is staying at your hotel and that this has been kept secret. They believe there is some sort of monopoly. In any case, unpleasant rumors have emerged, and after considering various strategic options, we concluded that the best solution is to host a ball.”

“Rumors? Monopoly?” Charlie looked at him, a bit confused. “Aren’t you here for the redemption?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAGLIST!!

@slytherin4ever

@empressofashed

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blackrosesmatron · 10 months

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👀

“To have you within my touch once more. Body, mind and soul. Leaving my marks on you to afmire the beauty that is you. To shatter your mind in complete ecstacy and bliss and make you long for more as you beg for that sweet release under my spell. And finally to have you unable to walk for at least a couple of days.”

send 👀 + a dirty thought and/or fantasy your muse has had about mine. let's see how my muse responds.

Of course, the degenerate would have fantasies about their bedroom adventures together. LeBlanc was quite confident in her skills and knew the impression she would leave on every single one of her lovers; Vladimir wasn't different in that regard. What set him apart from others was that he also left a long-lasting impression on her. He was likely the best she had ever had the luck to share an intimate moment with. However, his recent behavior had left a sour taste, and she couldn't allow herself to indulge in such actions with him. It would be like rewarding the manchild for his bad behavior.

With a lustful smile and eyes glowing with desire, the Matron approached Vladimir, standing right in front of him. Her hands traveled through his chest upward until they reached the lapel of his outer layer, gently pulling onto it. "Well, I must say that I am not surprised by it. Still, it feels good to be reminded that you still desire me as much as I desire you." Her eyes never broke direct contact with his, nor did her smile falter. "I'm sure you miss the feeling of being inside of me as I hold you tightly against my body," Her hands held his lapel, pulling the man down to her level so their faces were closer, with only a few centimeters between them. "And miss how my nails dig into your skin," She continued, arms wrapping around his neck, and nails going straight for his back, scratching him with considerable strength. "You miss hearing my pleasure cries while I repeat your name." Her lips started a trail of kisses from his neck to his ear, leaving dark lip marks on his pale skin. "You surely must miss all of this, do you not, my dearest?" Her voice, laced in lust and yearning, was a mere whisper to his ear before lightly biting his earlobe.

Before the Crimson Reaper could react, she pushed him away and stepped back, creating a distance that could almost be seen as a wall. Her eyes turned hard, and her smile vanished within a second. "Unfortunately for both of us, we will have to continue missing those moments. You have had multiple chances, but you always choose to let them go to waste, giving preference to annoying the hell out of me instead." She had no hopes he would change, she was merely letting it clear to him she was no longer willing to put up with his endless teasings.

"I wish the best of lucks to find a new lover, Vladimir. I'm sure it will not be a hard task for you."

#tw: suggestive #heredis sanguinis #“Would I lie?” (Answered)#Crimson Rose [VladimirxLeBlanc]#queued #V: “I am everywhere. I am everyone!” (Default verse)

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iriushoothoot · 1 year

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My fascination for strange games #1: Red Tape

It’s no secret that I am drawn to the weird, the mysterious and strange, the things nonsensical and beyond any reason. I admire the stuff that just exist, because the creator thought: “There’s no reason why this should exist but I can make it exist!”. This mindset is something I can’t help but to hold it in high regards. The pure determination, the will with which the creator created the thing in question, the level of not caring, not having any regards of what the world will think of the result; this is something any artist, creator, and maybe everyone should have.

Not that people only should care for themselves; no, quite the opposite actually. People should do stuff just because they can, because it makes them happy, and not change their thing, creation or personality, just because it could make them popular or rich. The best things in life are true, unfiltered and often unrecognized by the general public and yet they create so much joy not only to the creator, but to other people too.

This approach is lived by many indie game developers. Sure, a calculated AAA can be fun, but does it really have a soul? How much personality does a big title by EA, Activision or Ubisoft really have?

Before I drift off too much into the current state of the gaming industry, a state that isn’t too glorious and unfortunately is dominated by predatory microtransactions, countless sequels that change almost nothing and unpolished releases, because companies care about their investors more, rather than releasing a good product for their customers, let’s look at some strange games, as this essay-esque post exists because of those.

Whenever I see a weird game, there’s a huge chance I buy it. If you ever asked yourself “Who would even buy this game?!”, the answer is most likely me. One of the most recent examples would be Red Tape, a pretty new release by DreadXP developed by Pollaris Studios. DreadXP often publishes niche horror games with often outlandish concepts.

Red Tape was their first release of 2023 and sends the player to the scariest kind of hell; corporate hell. You play as an angel that happens to land in hell due to an error in some paperwork and to escape hell, you need to ascend through the 9 levels of hell, or rather descend if you look at the hierarchy of the corporate hell the same way as the layers work in Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy, where the deeper the layer, the more severe sinners are located in. So I don’t know if you ascend or descend in your career.

Anyhoot, the game comes in a charming style, where PSX-style 3D environments are blended with 2D paper characters. You start the game as mentioned before, as an angel. I really appreciate the fact, the developer used a biblically accurate angel, an entity that defies anything a human can comprehend.

Soon enough though, you get turned into a demon, so you can work better for hell, your new workplace. Hell becomes a mundane office space, where those who were doomed to spend their life in hell, fulfill trivial tasks or take part in meaningless conflicts with their coworkers. It seems purely comedic, but if you really think about it, wouldn’t that be a terrible fate to suffer? There’s a reason why so many people are unhappy with their jobs, and doing that for the rest of eternity, being forced to interact with people you can’t stand, all what you do are pointless, unfulfilling tasks. This is truly depressing in my opinion, perhaps even more as it is such a fantastic satirical comment on work culture nowadays, If Dante wrote the Divine Comedy in the 21st century, Red Tape is most likely how the result would lookl like.

Maybe I look too far into a silly game that was only made for comedic purposes but that feeling stuck with me during my entire playthrough. I can only highly recommend playing Red Tape for yourself. The game doesn’t have too much gameplay besides walking around corporate hell, talking to characters and going from one point to the other, but the entire experience, the historical and mythological characters you meet along your journey, the way hell is portrayed creates an interesting experience for sure.

#gaming #essay #red tape #strange #weird #game #dante #divine comedy #office #funny stuff

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hollywoodcannon · 2 years

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///

@niccolahiromithomas asked: ☁️ + Nikolai

Send ☁️ + a name, and my muse will share their favorite memory of that person.

A snicker was just upon Brian’s lips as he considered the question asked of him. A tale that told of depraved lust and ardor, a favorite memory of Nikolai that involved fuzzy handcuffs and whipped cream, a sinister fib that would be regarded as fact if he were to say it as so. Nearly there and spoken aloud - if not to please the Loose Cannon’s selfish sense of humor - an idea shelved for a later date, a less pure victim of curiosity. Precious moments bounteous, choosing a favorite wasn’t an easy task. Nikolai had been the source for so many good ones. Sunshine for whatever darkness that had captured Brian; a protector and lover and faithful friend. A husband, too, a father who loved their daughters just as deeply as Brian did. He was an angel that did more than any other. Saved a transgressor and showed him what it meant to be loved, fairly and equally and with purpose, delivered onto the Loose Cannon a life that, he had thought, would never come to be. A favorite memory - with Nikolai, it was all of them.

“Well, there was that time that Nikolai wore his lab coat, and we played mad scientist...” Brian trailed, deciding to entertain his devoted listener just a bit. “I’m kidding. But we sure have had some real fun, me and him. Believe it or not, nerdy guys actually know how to have a good time. They’re not always caught up in their math equations or science projects. They’re not just getting turned on by Marvel superheroes. My husband, he’s the main reason why I have any fun at all. Between him and our daughters, they’re the source to all of my happiest memories. And there isn’t much that doesn’t piss me off. They are my memories, my life. It’s because of my family that I’m happy at all. It’s the damn truth that, without them in my life, I wouldn’t be here talking to you now. Flyin’ Brian used to be a little too wild, if you can imagine that.”

“Since you’re making me pick, and really, this list is longer, a favorite memory of Nikolai would be when he first held Ena and Eva after they were born. Sure, lots of husbands say that about their spouse, but I damn well mean it. Seeing him there, holding our kids, it was like seeing Heaven. I had never seen anything so beautiful before in my whole life. It was like Nik was meant to be there. Everything that we had been through, all the hell that I had put him through, it led to that moment in the hospital. It was as if the three of them were in their own little world, too. The way he looked at Ena and Eva, the way they looked up at him with their pretty eyes, it brought me to tears. Fuck, I was already crying my eyes out, but that sight just made the floodgates crumble completely. It wasn’t just the girls’ birth that got to me.”

“That was my husband standing there.” He stated, proudly, wearing that badge of honor as fearlessly as he did Nikolai’s ring on his finger. “I know for young people now-a-days that doesn’t seem too out of the ordinary, but back then, there weren’t many couples like us. And I’m not just talking about ones with two dudes in it. Nik and I got married at a time when nobody wanted to recognize it. Not by law. Other same-sex couples, they didn’t get married like that. Least not the guys we met over the years. They didn’t believe in it, bizarrely enough. They thought Nik and I were crazy to even go for it. There was only one couple from our friend group who did the same. Had themselves a ‘commitment ceremony.’ My hubby and I, we had ourselves a wedding. Course, though, we still went as guests to theirs. Nik was one of the best men.”

“He was the hottest guy in the party. Anyway, us being married, even if there wasn’t an official paper attached to it, least at the time of our first wedding, meant the world to me. I always wanted to be married. My dream had come true. I didn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone else thought. Our families, the friends that mattered, were so supportive of us. That’s all I could’ve ever asked for. They were like that when we told them that we were having the girls, too. I always wanted to be a dad. Nikolai always wanted to be one, too. If some of those sorry bastards who thought we were crazy for getting hitched ever heard the news, they would’ve gone into a spasm. I remember the advice one couple offered Nik and I when they found out. Straight to our faces, too, as we were holding the sonograms of our daughters, showing them off and just beaming. ‘Wasn’t you two getting “married” bad enough? Now you have to go and procreate like the rest of them?’ I was seconds away from turning a certain pair of fruit-loops into mush.”

“That was the last time we spoke to them two.” Brian explained, rolling his eyes. “Fucking stick-in-the-muds. They were always pissed off about something. Never wanted anybody else around them to be happy, even friends. It’s not my fault that the guy’s boyfriend was fucking the gardener. He should’ve dealt with his personal problems. I don’t know what to tell him. Sorry his man didn’t want to marry him, but hey, guess what, mine wanted to marry me. And we had a whole life planned together. That included our babies, of whom we were so excited to have. Nikolai spent so much time making sure that everything went as perfect as it could go. While I freaked out and tried to distract myself with furniture building, cribs and changing tables, that sort of thing, he took care of the finer details. I helped, but it was probably best that I used my hands and worked off some of that energy. I wouldn’t have done my husband or my kids any good if I was so wound up.”

“But that moment, when they were born and Nik held them, I couldn’t take my eyes away. I feared that, if I blinked, they would be gone, and I’d wake up alone. That it all would’ve been a dream. Within just a few years, I had a husband and two beautiful baby girls. All that I had ever wanted out of life. The sorts of blessings that I was so sure had slipped through my fingers. Maybe it’s an answer that tons of husbands would give too, but for me, I mean every word. I love Nikolai. I love Ena and Eva. There isn’t anything that I wouldn’t do for them. I’d live for them. I’d die for them. Having them together, having Nikolai be the center, cradling our kids in his arms with a smile on his face, it’s one of my favorite memories of him. I’ll hold it close to my heart forever.”

___

#( Niccolahiromithomas )#Pipe Bombs Flyin' // Answered #Crazy Little Thing Called Love // Brian x Nikolai #Legacy Continued // Present / Current ERA #( He'll never understand how he got so lucky <3 )

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in-my-feels-probably · 2 years

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hey! I was the one who requested the Eddie concert situation and I have to say I loved every single bit of it!

I was thinking maybe a Sinclair!reader where Steve and reader have been dating for a while but it's a secret,,, until Erica finds out.

then maybe them trying to shut her up or something, she's so funny I would love to see what you come up with! <33

One Down

Request: I was thinking maybe a Sinclair!reader where Steve and reader have been dating for a while but it’s a secret,,, until Erica finds out. Then maybe them trying to shut her up or something, she’s so funny I would love to see what you come up with! <33

Hi! Thank you so much for the requests you’ve been sending, all your ideas are so cute, I really appreciate the love and support. It's my first time writing for Steve, so I hope I did ok and you like it. Also, I hope it’s ok that I kind of set it between season 3 and 4, it just fits best for my ideas, I’ll change it if you want me to. Sorry that it’s a but short.

(Warnings: swearing, general relationship fluff, let me know if i missed anything)

—

Unlike some of Steve’s past relationships, he wanted everything in yours to be done right. Taking it slow, making sure you both were comfortable, not letting anyone else influence how you were together. He’d had plenty of experiences in high school with his friends trying to embarrass him, or harassing his girl and making them feel bad, and although he wasn’t in high school anymore, he still had some residual fears about messing up and you leaving him because of it. So, he decided to keep your relationship more private, not announcing it to anyone, just letting everyone catch on by themselves.

Keeping your relationship with Steve private around the kids was much easier said than done, however, considering they had no regard for anyone’s personal space or business. With the Byers and El gone in California, they weren’t anything to worry about. Even if one of the kids found out, they hardly had the attention span to remember to include it in any letters.

Still, though, even with the group apart, keeping the relationship a secret was not a very successful task.

Robin was the first to find out, when she was walking to the back room to take her break and tell Steve to clock in, when she found you two, Steve’s face an inch from yours, a dopey grin on both your faces. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together, and she instantly caught on, cheering and high fiving Steve.

“Nice job, loser!”

Max was the next to pick up on it, but she never told anyone else, and had only mentioned it once to you, asking you about it in the car when you dropped her off back at her house. She had unbuckled, and was moving to get out, when she turned back to you.

“Are you and Steve together?”

You had nervously laughed, trying your best to seem oblivious. “Uh, why do you say that?”

She just shrugged. “You seem happier. And he’s always got that look on his face when he’s around you.”

“What look?”

She had smiled to herself, opening her door and getting out of the car. “The same way I catch Lucas looking at me sometimes. They think we don’t notice, but we do, right?”

You said nothing, cheeks warming at the thought, simply nodding.

You left it at that, and it was all Max had spoken of it to anyone. Steve got a little sweeter around Max after you told him about it, and they seemed to get closer with each other over the shared secret.

The only two people you really had to worry about were Dustin and Lucas. Lucas, because he was your brother, and you knew he’d have plenty to say about his friend dating his sister. And Dustin, who couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, and would sure as hell be all up in Steve’s business, asking questions he didn’t feel like answering.

And plus, if Dustin found out, it was for sure that Lucas and Mike would know, and eventually, Nancy would know.

You had absolutely nothing against Nancy, you liked her and respected how she remained friends with Steve, but it wasn’t as if any part of their relationship was private. As much as you loved Dustin, you knew he would unknowingly find a way to make things awkward between you all, and it was something you’d much rather avoid. You’d cross that bridge when you came to it, but for now, you and Steve wanted to enjoy the peace while you had it.

—

You were sitting in your bed, when Steve knocked on your door, letting himself in. You smiled at him, patting the spot next to you.

“Hi, love. What are you up to?” You asked.

Steve looked at you sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, well…your brother kind of just gave me permission to date you?”

You shook your head in alarm, sitting up. “What?”

“Yeah, he was leaving on his bike and saw me pull up, and I told him I was just here to pick you up, and he stopped me.”

You groaned, leaning your forehead against Steve’s shoulder. “God, was he weird about it? Did he seem upset? Oh god, he’s gonna tell Dustin! Isn't he?”

Steve laughed at your theatrics, pressing a quick kiss to your hair. “No, actually, he was cool about it. I did get the whole, ‘you hurt her and I’ll kill you’ speech, which frankly would’ve been scarier coming from Erica, but he said it was cool with it, and that it was fine. He also said he wouldn’t say anything about it if I didn’t want him to.”

“Well that was nice of him.”

Steve hummed in agreement, subconsciously fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

You took a deep breath, turning towards him. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you…want to tell people? I’m ok with it either way, and it’s not like we’re hiding this huge secret, but I think everyone so far has reacted well enough, it would probably be ok, right? What do you think?”

He smirked, resting his forehead against yours. “I think you want me to kiss you in public, and this was all a ploy to get what you wanted.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully swatting at his arm, but you couldn’t fight the blush that rose to your cheeks. “Steve!”

He laughed, tilting his head back, grinning at the ceiling. The light coming in from your window hit him in all the right places, his eyes sparkling when he turned back to you.

He looked beautiful.

You looked at him with starry eyes, leaning closer to him. “What if it was a ploy? You’re so pretty, how could I not ask you to kiss me?”

A rosy tint graced his cheeks, and he gave you a genuine smile. Your heart raced at the sight.

“Well, you know I can never say no to you, baby,” he murmured, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

You smiled into the kiss, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek, the other running through his hair.

Your moment of bliss was interrupted by your door swinging open, and a sharp gasp filling your ears. You quickly pulled away from Steve to see your little sister Erica, standing in your doorway with her hands on her hips, looking at you with scrutiny.

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Erica! Get out, you didn’t even knock–”

“Be glad I didn’t. I just stopped you from making a very poor decision, no offense Steve. Y/N, what are you doing?” Erica interrogated.

“Kissing my boyfriend, not that it’s any of your business.”

Steve was quiet, watching the interaction, but he felt his heart flutter at the use of the word boyfriend. Erica didn’t look impressed.

“Why does nobody in this house tell me anything? I mean, seriously–”

“Erica,” you said through gritted teeth in a hushed whisper, giving a nervous glance to Steve, who was listening along with a knowing grin on his face. “Now’s not the time for this, we’ll talk about this later, yeah?”

She let out what sounded like a mix of a scoff and a laugh. “You sure as shit better believe we are.”

You nodded, motioning for her to leave, trying to shoo her out. She turned to Steve, looking at him through judging eyes.

“I’m watching you, Harrington. I’ll be speaking to you later. Got that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve was quick to respond, giving Erica a curt nod.

Erica sighed, giving you both an analyzing glance over again, before huffing and marching out of your room, slamming the door a little too harshly.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers. You felt a hand pull yours away from your face, and lips pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, before Steve was intertwining your fingers with his, placing your joined hands in his lap.

“Well, I think that went well. That’s one down, a few more to go.”

—

Hi! I hope y'all enjoyed this. I write for the older characters and will accept requests for them, but know that I mainly right Marauders era content and am also working on existing requests for them, as well as school work, so it may take me a while to get to any requests, but I do appreciate if you send them in and all the love and support everyone has been showing recently!

#wattpad #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #lucas sinclair #erica sinclair #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things

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grimism · 2 years

Text

RANDOM GOJO PT. 1 (HCS)

tags/warnings : sfw

notes : first post aaaa.

jjk masterlist.

• how did you two get together? gojo is emotionally stunted, and prefers to laugh things off as not a big deal because he’s supposed to be the strongest. he probably didn’t realized he even had feelings for you until someone pointed it out.

“okay, what the hell is wrong you?” his best friend, suguru exclaimed. gojo had randomly called suguru for them to grab a quick bite but here he was staring at you instead.

gojo looked stupid, which isn’t very surprising cause gojo always looks stupid. but this? even geto couldn’t comprehend this. gojo had dragged the both of them out to spy on your date with some assistant teacher you met weeks ago.

“i’m just,” he started saying, his eyes still glued on you. “i’m just looking out for a friend.”

geto snorted. right, a friend. that’s totally what you were to him.

the fear of losing you would make him realize how much you mean to him.

• how does your dynamic work? gojo is a pain in the ass, an endearing pain in the ass. he’s teasing, whiny, and downright childish. he’ll drive you up the wall and annoy the hell out of you but he does it because he loves you.

• he loves you feverishly. somebody who just wants to love and be loved by you.

• he’s the type to send pictures, of basically anything and everything when away on missions. they’re usually of himself eating something good or at a famous landmark. he’ll send you a selfie of him sitting on a special grade curse and followed with a “hii i miss you” this man is insufferable.

• it’s canon that he’s rich, being the strongest sorcerer and all and i bet he loves to spoil you. you been staring at that disgusting body pillow at levi ackerman for too long? he’s already got it and purchased for you along with a body pillow of himself. he’s a pushover and a terrible enabler for any sort of collecting you’d be into.

• gojo has never been a morning person, not until he met you. he’s probably only looked forward to mornings for grand openings to new sweets stores. waking up to you though? waking up and feeling you next to him will always make his mornings. he’ll probably stay in bed and just stare at you. at your breathing patterns, at how you (probably, maybe) drool in your sleep, and at your soul. he wants to remember all of you. it’ll always be something he looks forward to.

• dates with this man are both spontaneous and planned. he does plans dates and tries - keyword, tries to follow them through. you both could be in a fancy restaurant and he sees a really cool quadruple mega chocolate cookie dessert that would give any normal person diabetes and think “i want to try that right now.” and he does, he drags you out of that restaurant to try it with him with zero regard for the original plan.

• would you two ever argue? your arguments would mostly pertain to his safety and how he doesn’t have to be strongest alone. of course he’s the strongest sorcerer but to you, he’s your whiney baby, your lover, and your best friend.

when you both give each other the silent treatment, gojo is the first to break always. he pouts and clings to you, follows you around the house, watching you do some mundane task and tries to passively apologize.

#ヤ— grim writes #gojo satoru headcanons #jjk #jjk headcanons #gojo headcanons #jjk hcs #jjk drabbles #gojo drabbles #gojo x gender neutral reader #gojo x reader

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moonlight-frittata · 3 years

Text

I Don’t Need a Mechanic

Overwatch: Dva and Brigitte (a few others make appearances)

Word count: ~5500

My take on when Dva meets Brigitte and the first month or so of them getting to know each other on base.

---

Six months Hana Song had been a part of Overwatch, and during that time she set a very strict precedent that no one, not even Winston or Athena the AI was allowed to touch her mech, Tokki. So seeing the back of someone inside the cockpit as she entered the Watchpoint Gibraltar hangar made her blood boil.

“Excuse me!! What the hell are you doing??”

The person’s body jerked, their head banging against the low roof of the cockpit ceiling they wedged their torso inside. Hana heard a short mumble of something incomprehensible and a long, thick ponytail of red hair retreated from the mech in a hurry. A very tall, buff young woman around Hana’s age emerged blushing with a sheepish grin.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, I couldn't help myself. I’ve always wondered what these Korean models looked like up close. But in hindsight I really should have asked first.”

Her accent was European, but it was hard for Hana to place with any real certainty. Could have been Scandinavian, remembering some of the players from Finland she competed against back in her pro days.

“Yeah, you should have fucking asked.”

The crimson hue on the tall, possibly Finnish trespasser’s cheeks faded and she held her ground, not scared off yet by D.va’s harsh tone.

“Right. Won’t happen again, I promise,” she said.

Dva scoffed a bit and pushed past the buff intruder to look inside the mech to inspect if anything was out of place. A moment of stuffy silence passed between the two and Hana hoped the other girl would get the message and leave.

“I’m Brigitte Lindholm by the way.”

Hana let out an audible huff as a familiar freckled face appeared looking through the glass on the other side of her heads up display.

“Oh. Yeah, Fareeha warned me a new girl was joining,” Hana replied from inside the cockpit while she busied herself checking Tokki’s systems.

“And you’re Hana Song, right?” Brigitte continued lightly, clearly unperturbed. “Or do you prefer to go by D.va?”

Hana paused at the mention of her gamer tag turned call sign.

“It’s Lieutenant Song, actually.”

Brigitte raised an eyebrow at the curt reply, her smile fading to a neutral expression. It only dipped for a moment though as she extended her hand.

It was an awkward gesture to shake hands from inside the mech, even though the front of the cockpit was partially open near the joysticks. Hana looked at Brigitte’s outstretched hand and gentle smile on the other side of the glass. Was this a joke? She pursed her lips and sized Brigitte up for a few tense seconds before reaching out. The grip was firm and Hana’s hand practically disappeared in Brigitte’s large palm.

“Lieutenant Song. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Hana sighed and rolled her eyes, a little of the bluster going out of her at the sincerity in Brigitte’s tone. Satisfied that no harm had come to the mech, she backed out of the cockpit.

“Just call me Hana. That rank doesn’t really mean anything here anyway. Lena will probably make fun of me if she hears you calling me Lieutenant.”

Brigitte walked back around Tokki to join her, a lingering hand tracing over the pink exoskeleton as she moved. “I’m surprised she doesn’t make you call her Captain.”

“Oh, she’s tried.”

Brigitte laughed.

“Sounds about right.”

D.Va chuckled for a moment, briefly disarmed by the new stranger, before she remembered how this person was rudely poking around her stuff only moments before, and snapped back into her gruff demeanor.

“Lindholm, you said? Like Torbjörn Lindholm?”

Brigitte sighed, clearly used to this connection.

“Yes. Genius engineer of Overwatch 1.0, founder of Ironclad Industries, husband to Ingrid, and father of way too many children, including yours truly.”

“So, you grew up in an Overwatch family?” Hana asked as her full attention focused on Brigitte for the first time in their conversation.

“You could say that,” Brigitte said. She picked up a silver ratchet resting on a nearby worktable, spinning the head around between her fingers and levering the handle back and forth, testing the weight distribution of the tool in her hand.

Hana could tell there was more to the story than her new teammate seemed willing to let on. She found it interesting that Brigitte, who had been all candid smiles a moment ago when she was caught somewhere she shouldn’t be and oversharing to someone she just met, was now hand waving around the subject.

Overwatch kids are pretty up their own asses about 1.0 normally. Wonder what her deal is...

This was what Hana was known for back in her pro days. Seeing a flaw in an opponent’s defense and breaking it wide open. But she needed to remember she only just met this girl, who would soon be her teammate. Maybe save that for another day.

“Well, Lindholm. As long as you stay clear of my mech, I don’t see a reason we should have problems working together. What’s your specialty?”

Brigitte perked up at the change of subject.

“Support. Both base level engineering support and in the field. I've got my bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering, and I’ve been working on Reinhardt’s gear for over a year now. Angela - I mean, Dr. Ziegler, is training me to be certified as a field medic.”

“Tough job. Think you can handle the gore?”

A wry smile pulled at Brigitte’s lips, her head shaking back and forth in a small, bemused gesture as she placed her hands on her hips.

“You don’t pull any punches do you, Lieutenant Song?”

D.Va crossed her arms, holding eye contact with Brigitte who matched her gaze with amusement.

“The best shot caller in the world is just a loud piece of shit if her team isn’t up to the same standard. So yeah, I like to know who has my back and if she can handle herself.”

Brigitte regarded D.Va for a moment, her jaw working back and forth as if chewing on the approach she wanted to take in response.

“I’ve been patching up Reinhardt for a while now. If I’m honest though, I’m scared it’s not going to be enough one day. But that’s not what I need to focus on, and instead I’ll do the best I can to support the people here.”

The plain way Brigitte shared her apprehensions left Hana uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine telling someone out loud she was afraid, especially on her first day. Though in truth, she herself felt scared shitless half the time while doing this work.

Brigitte’s smile was back. Did it ever leave that pretty face? It did suit her though, framed by the freckles and warm brown eyes. If this girl wasn’t built like a literal tank of 6 foot something muscle, Hana might have more apprehension about sending her out to fight Omnics and Talon.

“Well Lieutenant Song, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time with my intrusion. Fareeha and Winston will be missing me very shortly for the rest of their planned orientation schedule,” Brigitte said as she carefully placed the ratchet she previously picked up back on the workstation, breaking the spell of awkward silence.

D.Va smirked, feeling tension leave her shoulders to match Brigitte’s playful demeanor.

“Mmm, well now I understand why you were hiding down here.”

“Yes they are indeed quite enthusiastic and thorough with their material.”

She gave a wink and started to walk away, turning briefly to call over her shoulder.

“I noticed there was a small coolant leak under the left fusion cannon. Might get a bit sticky on the left hand.”

“Bye Brigitte, enjoy your 300 page orientation manual quiz.”

Brigitte waved once more and turned around, already so sure and familiar with the layout of the hangar and the base.

She’s just another Overwatch kid, and just another nosey engineer trying to get in my mech.

Hana lingered by her workstation, picking up the ratchet Brigitte had been fiddling with and thinking over their brief encounter again.

Would this girl be a liability on the battlefield? Brigitte looked strong on the exterior, but then, so did Tokki. If you took away the mecha armor, inside was just a squishy human target bullets and fire could cut through like paper the second she was exposed and vulnerable.

Hana took a deep breath.

She walked around to the left fusion cannon and did indeed see the signs that a coolant leak was backing up inside the casing. Pretty subtle to spot with minimal visible damage to the exterior.

Not bad, Lindholm.

D.Va pulled her headphones on, turning to her latest loop of pop songs to blast while she went to work removing the panels on the cannon to replace the broken coolant line. The task felt good, and helped her mind drift to thoughts other than her conversation in the hangar.

---

Hana didn’t see much of Brigitte the next few weeks. The new recruit was busy with training and learning mission protocols expected of field agents in addition to shifts with Mercy in the clinic to fulfill the certifications Brigitte was required to complete. Hana would see her sometimes at dinner, often in a spirited conversation with Reinhardt or Lena. It seemed to take Brigitte no time at all to fit in amongst the old guard, but it seemed that’s what being the favorite niece of pretty much every person here would get you.

Hana would half listen to their stories, always feeling awkward and out of place amongst their banter. Overwatch was like a family, but she was more like the stranger invited as someone’s plus one. Everyone seemed to have an ingrained familiarity with each other. A single word could trigger a whole series of anecdotes every person around had some personal insight to add on to.

Remember this!

Oh how is so and so?

Damn, that was 5 years ago already?

Even on her squad in Korea, she never had what they people here seemed to have. Dae-hyun was a close childhood friend and followed her into the MEKA squad, but the other pilots were a different story. There was always a bit of friction and distance with the rest of her teammates because of their history as pro-gamer competitors forced into an arrangement as teammates. It never really gelled beyond cordial coworker relationships. Hana’s celebrity status didn’t help either, only adding another barrier between herself and the others. The fame of D.Va closed her off in access to most people unless they were on the other side of a screen, and then they only saw a polished up version of herself.

Not exactly the best way to get close to people.

Sometimes she was curious to learn more when she heard the Overwatch stories, but she always stopped herself before saying anything. It was easier to pull out her phone and queue up a game. Easy to pull back and ignore them, and usually they left her alone to do it.

She was okay with that. She was okay with keeping Hana and D.Va separate. She was okay with only polite greetings and trite platitudes. She didn’t need to know about the times from before, or what her Overwatch teammates did on the weekends. She just needed them to listen to her in the field and leave her room to make her plays. Like every time she started a new game, she didn’t have to focus on the past, or what others thought, she just had to focus on the objective in front of her. It’s what got the job done and what kept her alive.

---

Brigitte kept her word to stay out of Hana’s mech. She set up her own work station on the other side of the hangar where she worked on Reinhardt’s gear as well as her own. Hana would sometimes see the blue flash of a shield out of the corner of her eye over the hum of diagnostic scans or smell the burn of sparks from welding.

One day curiosity got the best of her when she heard the loud, repetitive pounding of a hammer on metal and she wandered across the hangar.

“You’re doing that by hand?”

Brigitte stopped working when she heard the voice behind her, the deafening echo silenced on the metal shoulder guard she was beating against.

“On this armor I do. Reinhardt’s gear is special from the time it was made. It has to be maintained with some older techniques.”

“Why?”

Brigitte looked at her surprised for a moment then laughed, loud and warm.

“You know, I wondered the same at first. It’s a bit of the way this armor is made, modern techniques can be too harsh on it, interestingly enough. Too precise and it becomes too fragile.”

“That doesn’t sound true,” D.va said.

“Oh, questioning my methods huh? Well, maybe the truth is more I didn’t originally have the right gear out in the field, and Reinhardt didn’t have much modern tech either, so the only way to do it was by hand. But it’s nice actually to keep doing it this way, I like getting my hands dirty with it. Helps me relax.”

“See that I believe.”

“Well, I’m glad I have your approval, Lieutenant Song.”

D.Va rolled her eyes, but smiled a little.

“I told you before, you can just call me Hana. Although, I do like the respect of authority.”

“Lieutenant suits you.”

Hana smirked a little at the complement, turning to pick something up on a nearby table. She picked up one of Brigitte’s gauntlets, slipping it on her hand. Her arm sagged under the weight, the glove coming up well above her elbow.

“Is it exhausting wearing all this armor? How do you run around with it on? I can barely lift this thing.”

“There’s movement assist when the unit is turned on. But I mean, I think I can handle it.”

Brigitte smirked as she made a show of flexing her well defined arms, and Hana couldn’t help but gawk a bit before she turned back to fiddling with the glove.

“Um, yeah I uh, noticed you seem to be in good shape.”

“Oh yeah?” Brigitte was smirking, clearly enjoying the slight fluster she was causing in her new teammate. Hana put the glove back on the table and gave Brigitte a light shove on the arm.

“Oh give me a break, you know you’re buff. Do you even own a shirt with sleeves?”

“I’m very familiar with OW 2.0’s handbook, and the dress code is quite lax about on-base personal attire. But, mostly I just like hearing you complement me.”

Hana rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m glad you’re strong enough to move your ass around in this armor so you can protect my blindspots while I’m doing all the real heavy lifting.”

Brigitte laughed again. Hana couldn’t help but smile too at the warm sound. Brigitte’s whole face lit up, and her eyes crinkled around the edges. No wonder she was the favorite niece.

“Fair. I’ve seen your battle footage and some news clips when you were back in Korea. You’re so strong, I doubt you even need me.”

“Ah, another fan of D.Va. Well, who can blame you,” Hana said with a flick of her hair. She continued to walk around Brigitte’s workstation, picking up random pieces of armor. Brigitte didn’t seem to mind.

“Actually Reinhardt was the real die hard D.Va fan. We used to always have a stash of the instant noodles with your face on them in our rig. Great shelf life. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you for an autograph yet.”

“Well he’s one to talk! Did you know, when I was a kid there was a Reinhardt special edition line of noodles? I remember I tried them once and they had such a weird flavor. It was like ketchup and curry powder or something. He had a pretty big fanbase in Korea actually.”

“Hah! I didn’t know that, but I’d believe it. There’s been so much Overwatch merchandise over the years, I’ve lost track. They were such celebrities back in the day.”

“Yeah.”

Hana knew a thing or two about having her image used for propaganda. She wondered for a moment what it was like for Brigitte, growing up amongst the same environment, but removed from the center of it. An image of her laughing in the cafeteria with the old guard flashed through her mind. She decided it must have not been too bad, and refrained from asking the question.

“Okay well, I’ll leave you to your meditative, hammer time. I need to get back to my mech anyway, I’ve got a mission tomorrow morning,” Hana said, turning to leave. Brigitte let out a long sigh, slumping into a chair.

“Oh, it must be nice to leave the base.”

Hana stopped in her tracks, curious again, hearing such an outburst from Brigitte. She turned around and poked one of Brigitte’s large muscles near her shoulder.

“Oh come on, don’t be dramatic. You’ll be done with your training block soon. Fareeha is just, really particular before she lets anyone out on a mission. It took almost two months, and me breaking every score in the simulators for her to let me out in the field.”

“I know, I know. It just sucks sometimes feeling like everyone is being overprotective of me. I can handle myself, I’m not a little kid.”

Hana couldn’t help but give a little hmphf sound, her lips pulling down at the corners.

“Yeah, I get that feeling. You can’t speed up time though, you just have to grind it out.”

Hana wasn’t normally one for listening to whining, but she thought Brigitte looked quite cute while she pouted, her arms crossed tight against her torso and her lip jutted out. It was hard not to laugh at the sight a bit, but Hana held her tongue. She really did know how it felt to want to prove yourself.

“Hey come on, there’s plenty of work you’re doing here that’s valuable. And when you’re ready, you’ll get called up and out there with the rest of us.”

Brigitte took a deep breath, seeming to blow out the negative feelings in one dramatic sigh. When she straightened up in her chair she seemed to be in better spirits, smiling at Hana again.

“You probably know better than anyone how to do that. Thanks Lieutenant, I’ll try. Let me know if my hammering gets too distracting. I can always go find something else to do.”

“It’s fine. I hardly noticed.”

“Well in that case, I’ll just be over here until dinner time.”

---

A few days later Hana almost threw her computer across the hangar.

“Why is this piece of shit so useless!”

The MEKA diagnostic program she used to keep Tokki up to date was crashing every five minutes when she tried to run a scan of the system. It had slowly been degrading the last few weeks and after the latest mission it apparently decided it had enough. She tried every trick she knew, both from working on the mech for years and everything she could think of on her personal gaming rig, but she only had rudimentary coding skills and was vastly out of her depth.

“Everything okay?”

Brigitte’s gentle voice called out from a few feet away as she had stopped her own work to come see D.Va’s meltdown.

“Everything’s fine. Except I’m going to have to go throw this piece of crap, and then myself, in the ocean.”

“Sounds like a costly solution. What’s going on?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine, I don’t need anyone’s help.”

She could feel Brigitte’s sympathetic look burning into her cheek and hated it.

“Okay no problem. I’m around though, just let me know if you want an extra set of eyes.”

Hana stared at the email she had sent to Dae-Hyun the day before that still had no response. She knew her mech’s hardware inside and out, but he was the one who really handled all the intense computer program internals. She was out of her depth here and needed him to call her so she could get this thing working again, but he wasn’t answering. Maybe he was deployed somewhere or too busy with a social life now that she was gone.

She had decided to come here for Overwatch. So maybe she should trust Overwatch.

“Brigitte, wait a minute.”

The other girl paused and turned, only having walked a few feet away from D.Va’s workstation.

“I could probably use some help here, if you’re still offering?”

Brigitte smiled, but it was more muted than her usual mega watt grin. Hana appreciated that she wasn’t making a big deal about it.

God, why is this girl so nice.

“Definitely.”

Brigitte walked around the workbench where Hana set up her computer station and listened to the general description of the problems. As Hana started clicking through screens to show the protocol she usual ran, Brigitte held up a hand to make her stop.

“I understand what you’re saying, but looking at the text, I can’t read Korean. Does it have a translation setting?” “I doubt it. This thing was only meant to be used by the Korean MEKA squad.” Hana felt her stomach drop at how quick her hopes of getting this programming running were already dashed.

“Well lucky for us, Overwatch has some very robust translation tech we can utilize.” “Really? It’s not the AI is it? I’ve been so resistant to letting her in my computer.”

“That would be one possibility, but there are some more localized options we have. I’ve had to do this once or twice on one of my papa’s projects.”

“How long will it take?” “Don’t know! Could take a while, I’m not going to lie to you, especially with your program already acting buggy. But don’t worry Lieutenant, we’ll sort you out.”

Hana groaned, already having major doubts about letting Brigitte mess with her tech. But she didn’t have a lot of options, and this was probably the least embarrassing choice on the table at the moment.

Brigitte moved back and forth between D.Va’s workstation and her own across the hangar, gathering cables and a laptop she would use to debug the system. Hana watched over Brigitte’s shoulder for a while, monitoring her work to get the translation program working on the MEKA diagnostic software.

“Where’d you learn to do this type of thing?”

“Back in college. I had to learn a certain amount of coding for my major, but I helped out Winston some in his lab on campus and he taught me a lot of tricks too.”

“Jesus, is there literally anyone on this fucking base you don’t have some personal connection with?”

Hana stepped away from the computer and dropped down into an empty chair with a huff, spinning the chair on its axis in erratic circles.

Brigitte stopped typing and watched Hana’s tantrum. “It bothers you that I’ve got a close connection to Overwatch?”

Hana did not reply, but crossed her arms and let out a frustrated sigh. Brigitte’s gaze held her for a moment but eventually shifted back to the computer screen as she seemed to weigh her thoughts on how to respond.

“Why did you leave the MEKA squad to join Overwatch?” she asked finally. “It doesn’t have the best history as an organization, you know.”

Hana stopped spinning to look at the side of Brigitte’s face, who’s eyes were still trained on the laptop screen. “Well it’s better to actually be in a fight than on the sidelines.”

Brigitte stopped what she was doing and turned to face D.va. “You’re the best pilot in the MEKA program. Why would you be sidelined?”

Hana let out a bitter laugh. “Best pilot? I was more than that. I was the face of the fucking Korean army! Which eventually meant I was too valuable to be an actual soldier.” Hana stood up walking to the end of the workbench, reaching out to touch one of her mecha’s guns. She couldn’t see Brigitte, but she could feel the other girl watching her.

“I got real banged up in a fight with the Gwishin. Like, probably should have died kind of banged up. I was out of action for months. After that, the army realized they couldn’t let the poster girl for their success stories die in an actual fight. So they moved me off the Busan base and deployed me to lead baby fights happening inland, but whose sole purpose was really just a photo op.”

Hana balled her fist in anger at her side, remembering how awful it hurt seeing images of herself on television in all those epic battle sequences, reporters singing praises of heroism, only to know the real truth that it was all a fabricated lie. She couldn’t stand it.

“So when Winston and Lena came to my apartment and asked me to join the new Overwatch, it was a no brainer. My piloting skills are too valuable to just be sidelined in a studio with a green screen.”

The MEKA squad team was fairly understanding when she told them. The same couldn’t be said for her commanding officers, but as D.Va, the amount of influence and money at her disposal proved sufficient for a smooth enough transition.

“I believed this was my shot to get back in the fight. So even if there’s some bad history there, this is a new chance for me, and I am ready to deal with any fallout.”

Text whizzed by in the background of the computer screen as the console spat out a continuous stream of logs from the program Brigitte fired off as she listened in silence.

“I never liked Overwatch. I still don’t,” Brigitte finally said.

Hana turned to face her, very confused.

“Really? But, you’re like, one of the legacy kids.”

“All that means is I know more of the gritty details and seen firsthand the way people I love were chewed up by this place.”

Hana’s brow furrowed in thought, crossing her arms as she focused on Brigitte. Hana had been so taken in by all the happy scenes in the mess hall and around the base, she hadn’t even thought about the implications and complications that must have been a part of Brigitte’s life. She was so good at always putting on a bright face, how could she have known?

Brigitte took a deep breath, looking weary as she took a moment to gather her thoughts.

“When I was a kid, it was like I was one of those audience members you talked about. I was told all the best stories about heroes and villains, and it so happened that my family were literally starring as those heroes. But when I was a little older, I started learning more about history, and the other side of things. The PETRAS act. In fighting and war crimes. Blackwatch. Angela’s medical tech weaponized against her wishes, by my own father it turns out. Winston and Tracer buried under so much red tape, I’m honestly surprised they were ever allowed to leave a military base of their own free will. And Reinhardt... He’s a lot like you, I think. Brave, loyal, too stubborn to be just the face of a movement without putting his own skin on the line. Not when there’s something bigger than himself he believes in.”

A deep sigh, and an almost painful expression crossed her face.

“So no, I don’t like Overwatch. But I also can’t sit on the sidelines while they risk their lives, knowing I can help them. They’re my family. So here I am. Family can be complicated, ya know?”

Before Hana could come up with something to say, the computer dinged behind them. Brigitte tapped on the keys, reading quickly when a smile crossed her lips.

“Look at that, perfectly legible Swedish.”

“It’s fixed?” Hana hurried over to look at the computer screen.

“Well, the translation program is running. Now I need to actually debug your diagnostics program.”

“Ughhhh, I’m never going to leave this place.”

Brigitte chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it done. Feel free to go get some dinner if you want. This will take a while.”

“No way I’m going to leave you here all alone!”

“I promise I won’t touch Tokki.”

“It’s not...it’s not that, Brigitte. I just don’t feel right strolling off to dinner while you’re stuck here fixing my shit.”

Brigitte smiled.

“Okay. I definitely don’t mind the company.”

---

Hana tried to keep up with what Brigitte was talking about as she debugged the code. And she could follow along, for a while. Eventually she was way too lost to feel useful, and didn’t want to distract Brigitte while she was fixing the issues, so she retreated to a nearby futon against a wall. It was well past midnight, and Hana’s eyes were starting to droop. Brigitte drank one of the Dva branded nano cola energy drinks a while ago and seemed to be completely in the zone.

The next thing Hana knew there was a strip of bright light in her eyes as the sun started to stream in through a window in the hangar. Hana stretched to pull out the discomfort her back protested with from not being in her bed, but it was really not that unfamiliar, considering some of the positions she’d fallen asleep at her gaming computer before. A blanket was draped across her body she didn’t remember picking up when laid down on the futon. She was all alone in the hangar and her watch told her it was just after 5am.

“Brigitte?”

No one answered.

She sat up, noticing an unopened water bottle and energy bar laid out on the ground beside her futon with a little sticky note.

“Give it a go, Lt - Brig”

Hana scooped up the rations and dropped in front of the dark screen of her laptop. When she started up the terminal screen, her diagnostic programming kicked off like it normally did. All in Korean.

The screen showed exactly where an electric circuit was tripping in the defense matrix grid of the mech, which had been glitching in the field the last few days. Hana noticed the parts and tools needed to complete the fix laid out on the workbench neatly, but when she poked her head in the mech, it remained untouched.

She smiled to herself.

“Kept her word to stay out of Tokki. These Overwatch kids are too much sometimes.”

D.Va pulled the panel off her mech and got to work.

----

At dinner that night, Hana spotted Brigitte in the mess hall with Reinhardt, Tracer and Winston. Brigitte gave her a wink when she noticed her. Hana got her meal and sat beside her, leaving her phone in her pocket for once.

“Thanks for the help with Tokki, Brigitte. Works like a charm now.”

“It was my pleasure, Lieutenant Song.” Brigitte’s smile was kind, her expression gentle and warm. Hana noticed this close up Brigitte’s eyes were lighter around the edges, and she had a few more freckles on her left cheek than the right.

“Did I just ‘ear you call ‘ana Lieutenant?” Lena cut in. “She’s ‘Lieutenant’, but I can’ get none of you to call me Captain? Double standards round ‘ere, I tell ya what.”.

“Well, Hana was a more recent officer in her respective position, while you have been discharged from the RAF for several years now.”

“Who’s side you on Win!? Those ranks don’t expire!”

Brigitte chuckled, whipping her head around to look at Tracer’s shaking her hand dramatically in the air, eyes downcast in an over acted, scandalized look. Hana also let out a small giggle.

“Your rank on the flight simulator scoreboard sure did,” Hana said, poking her tongue out with a playful smirk at Tracer. Brigitte, Reinhardt and Winston all laughed.

“She’s got you there, Lena,” Brigitte said.

“The youth of today. Ruthless.” Tracer grabbed a fist over her heart as if shot in the chest by a bullet.

“You know, back in my days of Overwatch…”

Reinhardt started in on one of his specially tailored stories for whatever situation was at hand, this case a very detailed recount of the first time he granted a field promotion in the Crusaders. Brigitte sighed, correcting inaccuracies she heard along the way, giving a wink to Hana when Brigitte’s presence in the story was pulled into the story much later on.

Lena took up the torch after that, remembering a time she accidentally flew into restricted airspace and managed to sweet talk her way out of being shot down. They all took turns sharing more elaborate one ups from their time before Overwatch. Hana even volunteered a story, sharing the time she convinced Dae-hyun to set Tokki up to stream a battle with the omnics. She broke her single day subscriber count in under one hour.

They all laughed well into the night, and for the first time Hana really started to feel like part of the team.

---

Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!

#overwatch #mekamechanic #dva #brigitte lindholm #laura writes #man I've been poking at this for ever finally time to just put it out in the world so I can think about something new ahaha #hope you like!#hana song #(also there was no 300 page onboarding manual until Pharah wrote it)

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tartagluvr · 3 years

Text

the 'undateables' mitski songs

does anyone still call them the undateables anymore? am i that much of a vet omswd stan...my 'demon brother mitski songs' did well so i decided i wanted to write more! luke's of course will be platonic and about a sibling type bond, don't be wierd. this piece will not include barbatos, as even though i've played for over a year i do not fully understand his character and how to correctly portray him. my apologies!

warnings: fluff in all parts except diavolo. his is the only one with pure angst. no beta we die like chp16

word count: 5.2k

'demon brothers' here!

diavolo; last words of a shooting star

you learned from movies how love ought to be / and you'd say you love me and look in my eyes / but i know, through mine you were looking in yours

"my love, i am so sorry to have to cancel our date tonight. lucifer needs some assistance with paperwork regarding yours and solomons stay here."

for the third date night in a row, you have been put on the broken and tired back burner. for lucifer.

you can't fully bring yourself to blame your lover, he is the lord ruling hell after all. it wouldn't be fair to expect him to be yours all day every day. and when you really think on it, diavolo has not yet ever had a lover in his life. you are his first of everything in a romantic sense. so you've been telling yourself for months he is just not used to this, it is a craft he has yet to have tried his hand at. you just know he can be the perfect lover with a few housekeeping rules.

but it was starting to slowly, surely, chip away at your heart. and your heart was holding your love for diavolo inside, hanging on for dear life as the icepick swings.

with some semblance of confidence mixed with asmodeus hyping you up, you decide to go to castle and face him im person.

of course you put on your best outfit, do up your hair how you like, and spray on your favorite devildom scent.

its not too far of a walk, and you quite enjoy the cold breeze hitting your body. it gives you time to calm down, rationalize how you wish to speak with him. you could've easily asked one of the brothers to fly you over- but this was your task and yours alone. only you can walk through the glass barefoot while trying to sweep it.

entrance to the castle is easy, there aren't any security checkpoints or stops. just the large coded gate, and the glorious front entrance. getting inside takes no more than thirty seconds of your time.

time being wasted spent on a never present lover

barbatos greets you kindly in the foyer, apologizing on diavolos half for his buisness and lack of presence. but you stand your ground, a light smile gracing your wind beat cheeks.

he may be busy, but he can stop for a moment. just one single moment in which you can pretend everything is okay. and only then may he return to being distant.

it isn't as if you are unlovable, you know that much. your demon housemates had to shoo away multiple low level demons and succubi the first few weeks you had been here. it boosted your confidence in the beginning, but as that all stopped and you took real notice of diavolo- the confidence left.

so now here you stand, breathing in and out deeply at his office door. and you knock.

"come in," can be heard through the thick wooden door. so you enter, and are obviously not who he expected to walk in.

"mc? why have you come all the way here? did my text not send..." the man quickly brings out his d.d.d to genuinely check if his text sent. you make eye contact with lucifer, and just from the look in your eyes alone he says he will be excusing himself for a moment.

as he walks past you, your shoulders brush. and a whisper falls into your ear.

"make this worth it."

it boosts you further to know lucifer is supporting you in this. for a second you wonder if lucifer had ever scolded diavolo for how he treated you. but that is quickly brushed off as you approach his neatly tidied desk.

"i did, get your text that is. i came in person to give my reply."

diavolo laughs. he assumes you are joking around, you always were a little playful and he loved that about you.

well diavolo, you assumed wrongly.

"i don't think i can do this any longer."

he perches his head on the palm of his hand, looking up at you in confusion.

"diavolo, do you know what it means to be in love with someone?"

you do not speak harshly, even faced with the man who has all but abandoned you. he looks perplexed, seemingly thinking over your question. and he has a 'lightbulb' moment, eyes widening and looking into yours happily.

"love is to spend time with someone and never be tired of them!"

you want to say ding ding winner you got it right- but he doesn't see how contradicting what he thinks and what he does are.

"then do you love lucifer?"

diavolo lets out another classic one of his laughs, head thrown back against his chair. it was a serious question, but you know you can't be straightforward with his personality. he will always take it as a joke. hm, you pause in thought. maybe thats it, maybe he thinks this relationship is a joke.

"i do love lucifer yes, he is my right hand man. and so i end up spending a lot of time with him, by proxy of his job."

you find yourself nodding, it does make sense that he would connect his concept of love to lucifer always being there. but he still just doesn't understand the weight of this conversation.

"so then," you sigh, taking a step forward. "why have you chosen to date me? wouldn't you rather lucifer, going by your personal concept of love?"

diavolo hesitates.

and though this conversation will continue on, that was all the answer you needed.

"have i been an unsightly lover to you, dear?"

"yes."

diavolo goes silent again. it seems when he is right on the verge of understanding you, he takes four steps backwards.

"do you still love me then?"

you do not hesitate. "yes, i do."

diavolo purses his lips together, eyebrows knitted. once again he has the look of 'let me logically think this through' but the words that come out are rarely true logic.

"then we can continue, yes?"

"no," you whisper as you read that there truly is no sparkle in his eyes when they meet yours. lucifer walks back in from behind, and you see the sparkle appear as diavolo looks towards him with a smile.

"no, we cant."

simeon; your best american girl

you're the sun / you've never seen the night / but you hear its song from the morning birds / well i'm not the moon / i'm not even a star

sweet, loving, angelic simeon. the angel with dark hair and tanned skin. the least expected guess of who you would have fallen for.

the brothers are far too cocky, all betting on themselves.

but all it really took for you to fall was to see his smile once. and from that day forward, you would do anything to see it again. you are chasing happiness in the shape of an angel.

but you cannot have that happiness, as you do not deserve it. you are a sinner, and that is all simeon will ever see you as.

on one outing to the celestial realm, you had worn your prettiest outfit to hopefully get a compliment from your beloved angel. what you didn't expect was for simeon's angel friends to give you the exact opposite.

not only did they criticize your appearance, they attacked the ideals you hold. that demons can change, demons can be good. one in particular told you that you shant visit again because you have the scent of demons on you.

embarassed to hell and back (quite literally) you only stopped by where luke was playing with friends to tell him you had to go.

the boy was sad you couldn't stay and play, his small angel friends sad as well. they had been so excited to meet luke's cool big sibling! but you didn't want the older angels to scold the children for being around you- so you excused yourself and called diavolo.

you stand now in a beautiful field far from the center of the celestial realm, far from the angels all seeing eyes. but diavolo wasn't answering, meaning you probably couldn't come back for a bit longer. typically even someone like lucifer needed permission from diavolo to travel between realms. and if diavolo isn't picking up, then theres no point going to lucifer first.

so in a poor attempt to kill time, you begin to walk the field. beautiful vibrant flowers litter the grass, and you pick a few small ones you like to stick in your hair. when you look in the camera of your d.d.d you laugh out loud at how crazy you look.

a powerful pact holding human is in the celestial realm, sticking flowers in their hair. you never know what you're going to see when traveling realms.

bringing the phone up in front of you again, you begin to adjust the flowers so they go across the top of your head like a crown. like a halo

when you turn your head to the side is when you get the absolute jumpscare of your life behind you in the camera, nearly falling over. simeon had seen you from the castle as you walked out, and came to see why you hadn't stopped by yet.

"my dear, those flowers look lovely in your hair."

formal as ever. simeon always knows how to make you blush, like a school kid with a crush on their seatmate.

"its not a sin to pick celestial realm flowers, is it? maybe i should've checked beforehand."

you flash him a smile, gaining his laughter in return. "it is not a sin, as we are constantly giving back to the earth when we take."

his eloquence does not fall on deaf ears. you turn your head to hide the pink blossoming across your cheeks, and spot a beautiful group of blue flowers.

quickly you bend down, picking four or five before turning to simeon.

"my dearest simeon, care to match with me?"

simeon takes the small flowers from your outstretched hands, thanking you for them as if you grew them yourself. he attempts sticking them in his hair but they fall each time.

"ah, may i help..?" you started off confident, but the second those words left your lips you curled into yourself. thinking that you are dirty, you shouldn't touch him. you will taint his purity with even just the slightest of touch, that would prove how filthy you were.

"you do seem an expert, have a go at it."

his approval was all you needed to smile again, perpetually falling over and over everytime he speaks in your direction.

you carefully take the flowers from him, careful to not squish the delicate petals. once all sorted out in your hand, you step on your tippy toes and begin using your free hand to wedge the flower stems into his hair. subconsciously, the tip of your tongue is poking out of your mouth as you focus.

simeon smiles at the sight, thinking to himself how lovely you look today.

with one flower left to stick in his hair, you go to place it in the center of his head. up on your toes you go once again, but falter for a moment. right as you shake, his gloved hands grab your sides to keep you in place. you want to scream, you want to keep your composure. very contrasting wants; you go with a poor attempt of the second.

his warm hands do not leave your side until you announce you are done, and step off of your toes.

"how do i look, mc?" simeon asks quite playfully, striking a pose. quickly you pull your d.d.d back out, telling him you will take a picture to show him.

he strikes a second pose, holding his arms above his head in a heart shape. there is the widest and most stunning grin spread across his face. he truly looks like he isn't real. like a prince you would see in a picture book.

snapping back to reality you laugh looking at the photos taken. with a giggly 'what?' he comes to lean over you and see as well. the sun is glaring onto the screen from his angle, so he gently uses his hand to cover the screen from above.

once simeon finally sees the image, he is laughing along with you.

"i can't believe you talked me into this so easily. you really are magical for just a human."

for some reason, those words resonate with you. but not in a good way.

he's absolutely right- you are just a human. and here he is, the most incredible angel, a heart bigger than all the realms combined. maybe the others were right, you do not deserve him.

"would you care to take one of us both, love?"

simeons sweet voice brings you back down, your head snapping up to look at him. his face is so close you could count his eyelashes if you wished to. when you forget that he had asked a question, he poses another, as he sits down in the grass.

"where did you go?"

you know fully well what he means, and the look of concern on his face makes you want to cry. delicately forming the sentence in your head, you speak. "you're the sun, simeon."

the tanned angel gives you another one of his bright smiles, hand reaching up to grab yours and sit you down beside him. as he sits facing forwards, you sit facing him from the side.

"i mean it, simeon. you're the sun. everything about you is warm, kind. you give life and purpose to the people you meet."

simeon seems perplexed by this sudden compliment shower, half of his smile showing.

"and what would that make you? my moon? the one who is always guarding the darkness and making sure the people they love have light in dark times?"

you shake your head quickly, slightly embarrassed he would even compare you to something so beautiful.

"no, i'm not the moon. simeon, i-" you hesitate. why do you hesitate?

"yes love?"

curse this angel for always knowing how to get you spilling everything out.

"i'm not even a star. i just, simply am."

simeon hums, sounded disappointed in your words. if only you could see yourself through his eyes, for just one single second. then, perhaps, you would understand why he has fallen so infatuated with you in such a short amount of time.

he pushes off his hands that were propping him up in the grass, and locks his fingers under your knees. for a second you go to protest but fall silent as he lays your legs across his lap, pulling you closer in. you two are sat so closely you could rest your head on his broad shoulder if you wished to.

"i think you are the moon, mc. who has made you to believe you are not? those other angels luke told me of?"

christ on a stick luke and his love for you never fails. even though he may be younger and shorter, he always fights for you. even when you feel you deserve nothing except for him to walk away.

"they aren't worthy of this title, that i know to be true now."

"simeon!"

"my moon, i am just telling the truth. if they are to speak badly of someone i love i should be angry, no?"

now you really did lean into his shoulder, hiding your red face from his eyes. and as the cheeky boy he is, he knew what he was doing. with this new opportunity, your head against his shoulder. he wraps an arm around you. it feels like simeon could pull you right into him if he wanted, you are that close.

"so. huh. you love me?"

and simeon laughs loud. "out of all the words i spoke, those three words are all you heard? all i said was that you are someone i lo-"

this time around you cut simeon off with a squeal, lightly hitting your hand on his chest.

"i'm just playing, my moon. but i meant those words, that is true. what else must i do to prove it?"

lifting your head back up, you see the sparkle in his eye and smile. in turn, he raises his eyebrows and smiles, as if to say 'what?'. you bring your head back down to lay on his shoulder, warmed more now from the sun.

"you are my sun, simeon."

"yes, i picked up on that part dear." another hit to his chest that brings out his melodic laugh.

"and you are my moon, always and forever."

and of course, you two did end up taking photos together with your flower halos.

luke; goodbye, my danish sweetheart

and i don't blame you / if you want to / bury me in your memories, i'm not the girl i out to be

luke, despite being a sweet young angelic being, has experienced quite the amount of otherworldly feelings. for a bit of time now, he has come to know the feeling of anxiety festering in his bones. the fear of failure, of not being as good of an angel as simeon.

lord above, that boy idolizes simeon like no other.

he also has recently been introduced to another idol, another seemingly perfect person he wishes he could be.

that person, being you.

even in simple things like baking- something he enjoys immensely- he just feels a sort of emptiness. he can share his cookies with you, with simeon, even with solomon. but his un-angel-like feelings were baked into them instead of love, and he fears poisoning someone else with this horrible sickness he must have contracted.

luke tells himself he must just be sick, that is what is happening. something malicious must have been given to him, maybe by one of the demon brothers. he does find himself crying a lot easier from their words now, so the paranoia holds reason. to him, at least.

and of course, he doesn't dare tell michael or any of the archangels about this. what if they cast him out? tell him that he is not a true angel because of this sickness?

on one particularly bad day, you show up to rescue him.

luke is sat in the very far last stall of the school's bathroom, knees to his chest as he cries to himself.

he had started to feel the sick feeling overtake him whilst some low level demons threw jabs out at him, and it was too much to handle. too many voices, too many people, too many hateful eyes.

and as fate works, one of his idols came to save him.

you came waltzing into the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror. (just a note, if you identify as afab lets say you walked into the mens on accident!) luke heard the footsteps and curled further into himself, his sniffles reaching your ears.

"hello? hey, you okay?"

poor luke nearly screamed when he realized it was you. how could he let you see him like this? he will just infect you-

"luke sweets, i can see your shoes. can i come in?"

drat. you always did point out his 'twinkle toes' as you named them. he doesn't want to get you sick, so he just tells you flat out.

it takes a second before you reply, and luke thinks you might have left him all alone again.

"what hurts? i really don't mind getting sick."

how could he explain this rationally. because his head was hurting, but not the headache kind. his throat felt tight, like someone were squeezing him. and his chest was on fire, making him truly believe someone fed him a poison.

"if you don't answer i'll crawl under, you know i'm kind of crazy." luke had to stifle a laugh through his soft sniffles. slowly, he rose and unlocked the door. though he was looking everywhere else but at you.

"okay big boy, lets sit down," you happily enter the large stall, plopping down and patting the ground next to you. hesitantly, luke sits back down.

"so. what hurts?" luke shrugs his shoulders. you give him a playful push, looking to his eyes for an answer still.

luke tries his best to explain the story of how he thinks someone poisoned him, and that he was afraid he was going to have his wings taken from him. a deep deep frown sets on your face as he speaks.

"sweets, i don't think you are sick." luke goes to speak but you stop him. "no no, listen. i don't think you are poisoned, i think you are experiencing some serious anxiety. you know what that is?" luke nods, telling you that no angel he ever met had 'anxiety'. so he has concluded he must be a fake, and he is so embarassed that you now know his secret. that he doesn't blame you if you want to go to the brothers and make fun of him.

"hey, look at me. you're okay. you are the most kind and lovely angel i've ever met. even kinder than simeon!" luke wants to defend simeon, but realizes you must be just joking around.

"do you want me to tell simeon about this? i think he can help, him and i can be like 'lukes personal protectors'. how does that sound, hm?"

the tears start to well up in the small angels eyes again. "i don't want simeon to think i'm broken. that i'm not the angel i'm supposed to be."

instead of verbally telling him how wrong he is, you pull him closer and hug him tight. his adorable little hat falls off making you both laugh a little- but you are just relieve luke can still find humor in things.

if you or simeon had let this go on any longer, you feared luke would begin self destructing and end up doing actions he would regret.

"so i can talk to simeon right? you can be there too, so he can hear it from you sweets."

luke sighs exaggeratedly, but nods his head.

"do you want to go back to class?"

"no."

"fine by me. lets go play in the town!"

solomon; texas reznikoff

but i've been everywhere and it's not what i want / i want to be still with you

[ let me expose myself first this piece is inspired by a love poem i wrote for a girlfriend once, because she loved ferris wheels </3 ]

loving solomon is to board the carnival ferris wheel.

each cart is painted a beautiful color, differing throughout. sometimes the ferris wheel may be slow, and stop at the top of the sky. sometimes the ferris wheel goes so fast it seems to end before you even saw the sky.

somedays the ferris wheel was out of order, and didn't come back in service for weeks.

the long waits are what began to wear you down the most. you could see him- but only for a few hours a week maximum. you could call him, but only at certain times where his wifi would work well enough to hear you.

'you have reached the voicemail box of solomon the coolest sorcerer ever, please leave a message after the beep'.

it had been a month since you even bothered to leave a message. what would be the reason? for him to listen to three days later when his phone finally gets service?

with a heavy weight sigh, you throw yourself on your bed. checking your d.d.d, you see that asmodeus posted a selfie with solomon an hour previously. and that was how you usually found out where he was, considering he moved so much he stopped telling you.

the d.d.d slips from your hands, as they now move to rub at your cheeks. you didn't have any way to numb the pain, no way to fill the hole in your chest. a perfectly shaped circle i your chest etched permanently by a tall sorcerer.

but then you remembered alcohol exists. and that sounds bloody amazing right now.

you put on your favorite pop songs, went to the kitchen, and grabbed a fancy glass to put wine in. no one is around to judge how tall you may fill the glass, so you fill it well.

dancing around your room now, you stop for a second to change clothes. if you are going to have a night of self love, you want to at least look your best. the fanciest (dress or suit) is pulled from your messy closet, and you beam at it. it's perfect for the occasion, you can consider this a date with yourself. and it was well needed.

now dressed to the nines, you resume your playlist and move around to the beat. the wine tastes almost better when you're drinking it alone, your (dress or suit) fitting perfectly for once.

feeling playful, you grab your phone and quickly take some pictures. one is a classic selfie, wine glass in frame. the next is a full body shot in the mirror to show off your outfit. and the final is a timer set photo where you stood posing against your wall, wine glass raised as if to say 'cheers'.

quickly you went to post them, to show everyone how well you were doing. and to show how amazing you looked, obviously.

the caption took a bit of thinking, but you finally settled on 'cheers to date nights with yourself' with a few heart emojis. confident in your photos and figure, you didn't hesitate to click post.

and then the phone was put back down, music back all the way up as you waltzed with yourself.

for once, you were thankful you had decided to reside in a smaller town where the houses are a bit far from each other. you wouldn't have to worry about noise complaints, yelling neighbors, any distractions.

this was your damn night and nothing could ruin it.

and by nothing, i mean solomon calling no more than five minutes after you put the phone down.

immediately you froze, staring down. you wondered why the music didn't stop playing the call, and only then did you realize you had taken and posted the pictures with your d.d.d. not your iphone. not on instagram. oh lord.

you scrambled to pick up your ringing d.d.d, catching it just as it was about to end. as you said hello over the line to your distant lover, you saw some rain begin to lightly dust your window.

"mc, where are you?"

it was definitely the alcohol that caused you to scoff. who is he to ask that right now?

"home, alone. hows the devildom?"

solomon does not speak for a moment. it seems he is trying to gather his words carefully.

"how much have you had to drink?" he sounds cautious, and it almost pisses you off more. "i don't know, don't really care. i'm having fun!"

solomon sighs. his end of the line goes strange for a second, and you call out another 'hello?'

"i'm still here, sorry. damned d.d.d does that a lot when i-" solomon cuts his sentence off. and unfortunately for him, you weren't drunk enough to ignore that. not even close enough.

"when you what?" solomon is silent.

"solomon...?"

you hear a deep breath from the other line, cutting through the silence. and then, the sound of rain.

"can you please let me in? it's colder than hell out here love."

before you have time to think, your body reacts and you drop the wine glass. it shatters almost beautifully, like a star exploding in the night sky. and then you really truly register the words your lover has spoken.

without care you toss the d.d.d onto the couch as you all but run to the front door. a part of you is afraid you're about to wake up, this is is a wine induced dream. but after a moment, you open the door.

and in all his beautiful glory, there stands your beloved sorcerer. albeit a little wet from the rain, but still the most ethereal creature you've ever seen.

and then you remember you're mad at him.

leaving him at the open door, you walk back into the living room and begin cleaning up all the glass shards. a few had hit your feet pretty hard, but you didn't feel them or take notice at all.

solomon eventually comes into the room as well, immediately racing over and taking the broom and pan.

"please go sit on the couch. your feet," he gestures down with his head. "they're bleeding. give me a moment to pick this up."

and in a wierd, very solomon way, he casts a spell to pick up all of the shards and sends them to the trashcan in the kitchen.

"right, where do we keep medical here love?"

"you would know if you were ever home." you don't even give poor boy a second to breathe.

but he takes your anger in stride, knowing he somewhat deserves it. so he turns to the bedroom, and emerges a few minutes later with a first aid kit. he instructs you to turn so you are sitting against the arm rest, to let him clean your feet easier. neither of you say a word until he is done pulling out shards, and bandaging up cuts.

"i'm sorry, dove. i've been a horrible lover to you."

you want to retort. oh god above, you want to yell at him with every ounce of your soul. but you also want to cry. because its been two months since you last saw him in person. and now, in this mess of a night, he has to see you like this.

solomon is surprised though when you do start crying. he comes to your side, crouching down to hold you by your shoulders.

"mc, please look at me. i'm so sorry. i'm here now and that won't take back all the times i wasn't. but i'm here now."

rather abruptly you wrap yourself around him, arms over his shoulders and a hand in his damp hair.

"i thought you would never come back. that you enjoy traveling more than," a pause to sniffle. "being with me." solomon is quick as ever to hush you and hold you tighter. he wishes there was a spell to fix this, a magic to make you happy again. but that is not what you want, that's what he wants.

"listen dove, i've been everywhere. name a place and i've been there before, but thats not what i want."

you lift your head enough to look him in the eyes as you speak softly. "then what is it that you want?"

solomon doesn't hesistate.

"i want to be still with you."

solomon seems to stop hesitating from then on, by that i mean cancelling all of his plans for the next three months to be still with you.

the ferris wheel is finally back in maintenance, and his eyes are promising that it will never break down ever again.

#obey me #obey me imagines #obey me shall we date #obey me reactions #obey me headcannons #obey me x mitski #obey me angst #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me diavolo #obey me solomon #obey me x reader #obey me x you

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lokiskitten · 3 years

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Request for @cara-serpens !!

“Loki is tortured, really badly tortured. He may be freed from the avengers and female reader ( which he knows well as she was always friendly to him ) but nobody really cares about his condition. It’s not just injuries and pain, but also pure fear as soon as someone approaches him. Will female readers succeed in making Loki feel safe? Can she take care of his wounds on the body and in the soul and give him a feeling of secureness and comfort? How would he react?”

Loki Laufeyson | gruesome torture

Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

plot : after finding out that the Avengers have been secretly torturing Loki instead of sending him back to Asgard, you step forward and offer him your help in hopes that he will be able to recover.

warnings : dark!avengers, mention of physical torture, electrocution, mention of open wounds.

Screams of pain echoed through the underground levels of the Avengers’ compound, fuzzy sounds accompanying the groans and whines as you stepped forward through the hallway. You had been originally tasked to check up on the building’s batteries, the box being located a few floors bellow earth- but after hearing such noises you couldn’t help but grow curious but concerned regarding who could’ve been making such sounds. Following the screams, your feet were soon to lead you until a closed door against which you pressed your ear in order to receive confirmation regarding your doubts and chosen path. The screams had to come from the inside of this closed area. Without hesitation, your hand pushed against the metallic door and allowed it to open, shock filling your organism upon stumbling onto such a horrific sight.

None but the Asgardian god of mischief who was known as Loki appeared to be tied down against a metallic table, wrists and ankles restrained by leather straps which held hip back from escaping this gruesome situation. He was receiving electric shocks coming straight from a device locked against his scalp, which had easily led his hair to get messy. However, other form of bruises appeared to cover the rest of his naked body, whether they were sealed or open wounds. By the table’s side stood Tony- visibly enjoying to provide his enemy with pain though it was none but Banner who controlled the entire torture device. Whilst Stark simply wished to see pain and fear reflect in Loki’s eyes, Banner stood there in an uncomfortable manner. You could tell Tony had probably forcefully dragged him into this mess.

You were soon to understand that your leader had lied to all of you- claiming that they had lost Loki through the battle only to be able to sneak him down here in order to make his own justice. But this simply didn’t work out for you. Banner was the first one to notice your presence, though you had to speak up in order to catch Tony’s attention. “What are you doing?” You asked, watching as Iron Man’s head lifted to make eye contact with you. He knew that now was too late to back away, and that his prideful self would have to admit what he was doing without speaking a single lie to you if he wanted to maintain his reputation. “Just giving him a taste of his own medicine.” Tony answered arrogantly, easily leading you to drift off to the doctor in hopes to make this whole thing stop. You were aware that there was no way in hell you would’ve been able to make Tony change his mind.

“Stop this.” You ordered, earning a rather uncomfortable eye contact with Bruce who then looked towards his superior as if he was physically asking him if he was allowed to obey your order. “Banner- if you do this-..” Tony began, only to end up being cut off by your determined self. “Bruce. Whatever he told you, this is not the right way.” You spoke empathetically. Thankfully, your strategy adding up to the doctor’s natural empathy ended up leading the man to stop the electricity from nourishing the machine by pressing on a simple button, both of you earning a head shake from the Avenger standing by the table. “Jesus Christ-“ Tony cursed, feet beginning to lead him towards the controllers though you were soon to stand in his way in order to stop him.

“Does Thor know about this?” You asked, hoping that reminding Tony that Loki’s brother was one of yours would make him change his mind for good. Unfortunately for you, it was rare for Iron Man to ever fear much as his huge ego held him back from doing so. “There’s a lot of things Thor doesn’t know.” Joked the man, rudely underlining the fact that he believed Thor to be a muscular idiot whilst still trying to get past you. But your tough self refused to move, which ended up leading the older man to groan in annoyance. “Fine. Two hours break for him. I wouldn’t want to skip my lunch.” Tony spoke before making his way out of the secret torture room alongside Bruce who appeared to be in pure distress. The doors closed and locked behind you, trapping you in here with poor Loki who was still attempting to recover from this tough step.

He was panting, his chest rising and dropping at quite an incredible rate. You could tell that the demigod was exhausted, and even if he had wrecked havoc around New York, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Carefully nearing the table, you watched as droplets of sweat ran down his bare skin- which you soon understood was water that Tony had sprayed around after removing his armor to make sure the electricity would properly pass through his body. His ankles were the first thing you freed, remaining cautious regarding his usually agressive persona. You didn’t want to risk having him put his anger out on you. “I’m gonna free your wrists now, okay? Remember, I’m doing this to help you.” You informed before undoing the upper leather straps.

Unlike what you would’ve expected, Loki’s body simply rolled to the side before falling to the floor and nearly crushing your feet- which he would have if you hadn’t backed away after freeing him. He appeared lifeless, though you could clearly tell that he was breathing due to the weak movements of his back. The poor man simply didn’t have the strength to use his powers nor move any longer- and god knew for how many hours Tony had probably left him here, through pain and torture. You were soon to assume that Loki was probably cold, his wet and bare skin being an awful duo when it came to warmth. “I’ll fetch something to warm you up.” You informed before moving away from his body, walking around the room and seeking for a blanket or other piece of clothing to offer him.

Meanwhile, the demigod found the strength to turn around and look up at your back, surprised that a human such as you who on top of that was part of the avengers would agree to help him. Groaning out of pain as he sat up on his elbows, the raven haired man carried on following each of your steps to make sure you wouldn’t attack him by surprise. Thankfully, you were soon to lay your hands on a blanket, body turning around as you approached Loki’s injured self. However, the demigod surprisingly began to place his hand before his body and lower his head- probably out of fear that you were meant to hurt him again. Besides, humiliation stole away his envy of being touched by anyone at the moment. “Pl- please.. I learned my lesson.. I can’t take anymore of it...” he admitted breathlessly, earning a sigh from you.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Loki. Even if I admit you’d deserve a good beating for wrecking havoc in this city.” You answered, his blue eyes peeking up at you in a shy manner. “It’s just a blanket. See?” You added, raising the large piece of fabric above your chest to make sure he would be able to see it properly. After waiting for a couple of seconds, Loki ended up nodding weakly, visibly agreeing to receive the blanket he was in desperate need of. “Sit up.” You asked him, just in aim to be able to wrap the clothing around his back and keep him warm. However, when the male found himself sitting up on his bum, you couldn’t help but notice the wide scars which adorned his back. They appeared healed. “Is that from Tony?.. they look old-“ You began, only to be stopped by the demigod himself.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He responded as his hand rudely took ahold of the blanket, and all of that whilst avoiding eye contact with you. You sighed. “Fine. But looks like I’m trapped in here with you for now.. So the best we can do is remain polite.” You responded wisely before sitting down beside him as Loki wrapped the thick material around his body. It wasn’t the first time you had encountered the demigod, and you had felt surprised to see that he had stolen the Tesseract and attempted to reduce New York to dust. It just didn’t look like something he’d do. Unfortunately, your alliance with the avengers had always held you back from getting to know him better. You two made eye contact for a brief second which allowed you to notice the open wounds on his face and chest- the only part of his body which remained uncovered.

“Will you allow me to get a closer look at those? They might get infected..” you asked, tone lowering just so slightly as you remembered the way his healed scars looked. They didn’t appear as if anyone had taken care of them, which had resulted in a rather healed for sure but bumpy texture. Face to Loki’s lack of response, you decided to take the decision by yourself. Getting up from where you had been sitting, you made your way until the pharmacy cupboard which was part of Bruce’s small handmade lab. You managed to lay your hands on everything you needed- bandaids, alcohol, coton...- which now allowed you to make your way back to Loki. The raven haired man remained suspicious, looking up at you with squinted eyes and following every single one of your steps.

Upon sitting on your knees beside him, you could sense Loki attempting to move further away from you in the most discreet manner- a detail you didn’t bother to speak up about. You could understand he felt afraid and uncertain, but you were willing to prove to him that you meant ho harm or whatsoever. “Just a little bit of alcohol on a piece of coton will do just right.” You explained through your steps, keeping Loki informed of every move just like doctors did with young children. “It might sting a little, but I assume a tough guy like you went through worst, Mmh?” You joked before your hand gently started to approach Loki’s face, the man’s head backing away as you tried to reach his skin. It annoyed you.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to make efforts too, because otherwise we’re still gonna be here when Tony would have finished his lunch.” You explained, underlining that him constantly backing away could lead this cleaning process to take hours. After hearing this sentence, Loki’s head finally ceased to move away though his blue eyes remained on you- orbs shooting daggers and body getting ready to intervene if you ever attempted to backstab him and bring him harm. “Breath in.” You asked empathetically before allowing the alcohol coated coton to gently collide with the bruise on his nose. The poor boy winced loudly, his entire body tensing up as your arm went motionless. “I’m sorry.” You spoke, leading Loki’s eyelids to open.

“Sorry?..” he asked whilst making eye contact with you, his calm self now allowing your hand to take care of his face without letting go a single sound. “Yeah. Why?” You carried on discussing with him, believing that it was a good way of distracting his brain from the pain. Loki’s eyes looked away, orbs growing moist as he bit down on his gum. The truth was, no one had ever apologized for manhandling or neglecting him- and hearing you say such a thing to him had honestly reached and pierced through his heart within a matter of seconds. He couldn’t help but remember the horrors Thanos made him go through before he arrived in New York, and the constant conflicts with his father. However, his pride held him back from thanking you or allowing his tears to go down.

“There you go. All cleaned up.” You informed once you had finally finished to clean his face, this statement dragging Loki out of his painful thoughts. You got up from where you had been sitting in order to throw the dirty pieces of coton away and put the rest of the medical furnitures back in their place, and all of that whilst Loki allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts again. “This might cause a civil war, but I’ll inform you brother that you’re here as soon as I can.” You notified as the demigod finally found the strength to get up to his feet- blanket wrapped around his waist- though he still had to lean against the table for support. Is this what empathy feels like? The demigod asked himself as he continued to stare into the void. After such a long time spent by himself, he had forgotten about the many assets of friendship.

You kept Loki company until Tony finally unlocked the room for you to exit. Not once had the demigod thanked you for what you did and were about to do for him, and yet you still felt guilty about leaving him in Tony’s hands until you were able to find the god of thunder. However, for the first time ever, you had been able to distinguish fear and gratitude through Loki’s wealthy orbs.

I’m so sorry this took a while to write! Was having a writer’s block. But here it is now! I hope you was able to enjoy it❤️ take care.

special tag for my best friend @devilsuga who I’d heal and protect on my life if I had to.

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kingpreciouswrld · 3 years

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Make Yourself At Home

Fluff Prompt - “You should probably go home,” “But I’m already home”

Pairing: Agatha Harkness/Agnes x Reader

Summary: You’ve been assigned the most tasks to complete for the neighborhood’s upcoming carnival. Agnes just wants to spend time with you, so she offers to help.

A/N: Not the best, but I tried ^-^ All mistakes are mine. Feedback is encouraged (especially if it's about my grammar). Anyways...enjoy!

It was a bright and sunny Saturday. Today was one of Dottie’s committee meetings and that’s where you are right now, sitting in a circle between Wanda and Agnes.

You usually don’t attend these meetings but your neighbor and crush Agnes insisted on you accompanying her and you would never say no to her. You didn't mind these meetings but you knew that there are other things you’d rather be doing instead of listening to Dottie be her bitchy bossy self. This meeting in particular was for the neighborhood’s next carnival which would be next week.

One week. You guys only have one week to get everything together and knowing Dottie, she’d dump the majority of the work on everyone else and then take credit for everyone’s hard work. You sighed mentally, you really didn’t want to be here right now.

Everyone’s chattering died down when Dottie cleared her throat, “Ladies, ladies, as you all know we are holding our third carnival.”

You all clapped respectively, some more enthusiastically than others. Probably trying to kiss Dottie’s ass, you thought as you rolled your eyes. Agnes stifled a laugh as she caught your eye roll and she lightly slapped your arm.

Dottie smiled proudly and calmed down the applause, “Now, with the boys being in charge of security, us girls will take care of the rest. I picture...at least six activities, not including the ferris wheel. That being said Geraldine, Nancy, and Beverly, you will handle the games. Wanda and Agnes, you will be in charge of selling tickets. Y/N,”

Please let it be easy, please let it be easy, please let it be easy, please let it be‒

“You will be in charge of food and decorations, and please don’t get tacky decorations, I do not want a repeat of last year’s decorations.”

Dottie clapped her hands together, “And that concludes today’s meeting, any questions? No? Alright ladies! Chop chop!”

You winced. Beverly was in charge of last year’s decorations and you saw her shrink back into her seat.

Wait..food AND decorations? You would need to make a crap ton of food just in case other people around town would show up, Dottie expected nothing less.

Agnes bit her lip as she regarded you. She didn’t mean to fall for you but when you welcomed her to the neighborhood she knew that she wanted to get to know you.

You were amazing in every way. She would walk past you as you worked on your garden and you’d always send her a blinding smile and wave at her, asking her how she was and if she slept well. You’d surprise her with a home cooked meal from time to time and you even made enough food for her and her nonexistent husband which in turn, she’d ask you if you’d like to join her, and you always did.

As you stood up and turned to leave, Agnes fell into step with you as she linked her arm with yours, “Hiya hun! Mind some company on the way home?”

“Of course not! Especially if the company in question is you.” You smiled and bumped her shoulder.

The two of you left the community pool and walked down the street, arm in arm. “Now, hun, I know how much work Dottie threw onto you and I’d love to take some of the stress off of your shoulders.”

“Oh Agnes, you really don’t have to…”

“Darling I insist! I’d feel guilty knowing you have lots of work to do and not having some help, even if it’s from little ol’ me and I won’t take no as an answer.”

Agnes held her breath. Being in charge of tickets is easy enough, hell, Wanda could do it herself with her enthusiasm. She just wanted to spend time with you and this was the easiest way she could think of doing it without being obvious about it. On the plus side, she actually gets to help you, if you agree to the help of course.

“I..okay.” You sighed and nodded, turning to face Agnes. To your surprise, you already made it home and you silently cursed yourself for living so close to the pool. “Okay, I accept your help, ONLY, if you let me repay you with dinner every time we work.”

Agnes sent you a blinding smile and squeezed your arm, “You got yourself a deal hun.”

______

Just as she thought, Agnes finished selling her tickets in one day. She had told Wanda that she was going to help you and Wanda insisted on selling the majority of the ticket roll herself. Easy enough. She didn’t know why Dottie had two people working on tickets.

Throughout the following days you and Agnes got to work.

The days started with Agnes bringing you a bouquet of flowers and each day the bouquet would be made up of a different flower than the previous one. “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl.” Agnes walked into town early every morning to buy the bouquets and the light blush and shy smile on your face made the trek worth it every time.

For the majority of the week the two of you hit the stores. The carnival theme this year was ‘Tropical Paradise,’ it being summer and all.

You and Agnes picked out banners and tablecloths of different shades of blue, beach equipment, and ‘hawaiian’ decorations that made the both of you take MANY trips to the car. Agnes even played around as the two of you were shopping. You giggled as Agatha went so far as to wear a plastic grass skirt around the store, doing a little hula dance.

True to your word, you made dinner for Agnes after every day the two of you worked. You always made sure to wear your best dress and your best pearls. Obviously they were never romantic dinners but you could always dream right?

As the two of you ate, the conversations flowed easily between the two of you and that included flirting. With both of your quick wits and Agnes’ (what seemed to be) infinite knowledge, the dinners became the highlight of your days.

Agnes was in the same boat as you were. She made sure to wear her best dress and one night she even wore a dress with a neckline that was lower than her usual dresses. You were never subtle with your glances and every time she caught you looking, her hope and boldness grew a little.

The carnival would be in three days and Agnes knew she needed to make her feelings known to you soon. She needed to.

She needed you.

______

It was the night before the carnival and you and Agatha just finished baking the goodies for tomorrow as well as setting the meat in their marinades for the BBQ grills.

After tonight you won’t be spending a lot of time with Agnes and you hated it. You would miss Agnes showing up at your door in the morning with a bright smile, you would miss her cracking one-liners and her daily gossip about your other neighbors. Yes, Agnes would still be living right next to you but it’s not the same.

For your last dinner together, you went all out. You made lobster mac and cheese with molten lava cake for dessert. You slaved over the dishes for hours before Agnes came over and you just hoped she liked seafood.

However, the dinner ended faster than both of you wanted it to. Agnes tried to eat as slow as she could but you reminded her that you also had dessert to get through yet she insisted that she was just savoring the taste and wanted to get the most out of each forkful.

The night was coming to an end and Agnes didn’t like it at all. She didn’t want to think about things going back to the way they were. She wanted to stay with you, to be with you. Seeing you daily wasn’t enough, the morning walks and ice cream outings weren’t enough, she wanted to be around you 24/7.

Agnes insisted on clearing the table, she even tried to wash the dishes for you before you bumped her hip with yours to move her out of the way, “It’s getting late Agnes and we need to be up bright and early tomorrow. You should probably go home.”

“But I am home” Agnes whispered as she timidly stood behind you.

The plate in your hand dropped into the washing water as you halted your movements and you leaned against the sink to hold yourself up.

“Look at me,” Agnes turned you around by your shoulders before she rested them on your waist.

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and you had to grip her forearms to ground yourself.

“Darling, this past week has been a gas. I’ve had more fun with you than I’ve had in ages and I..I’ve come to like you Y/N..more than a woman should like her friend and I was wondering..”

You watched her lean in closer and you couldn’t believe it. “Agnes..” Oh god.

You finally felt them. Her lips. Oh god. Her lips were oh so soft. She caressed your cheek as she pulled up flush against her. The kiss was gentle, it was reverent, filled with lasting promises, and held with emotions that couldn’t be put into words.

As the need to breath became more prominent, Agnes pulled away first and you let out a small whimper before she rested her forehead against yours, your breaths mingling with each other.

“Will you go steady with me?” she whispered against your lips.

You felt your eyes water as a wave of relief washed over you, it was like a heavy weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You nodded as you held onto her tighter. You didn’t want to let her go, you couldn’t. You wanted her.

You launched yourself forward, capturing sweet lips again, “Agnes, I’ll be honored to go steady with you.” You whispered as you let out a water laugh.

The night ended on the highest note it could and you couldn’t wait to spend more time with your new partner.

You’re definitely going to drag Agnes onto that ferris wheel tomorrow.

______

A/N: Alrighty, there ya go! Remember: Feedback = very encouraged. Hope you guys enjoyed and I'm open to any requests you guys might have!

#agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x you #agnes x reader #agnes wandavision #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #wandavision imagine #wandavision #mcu fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #kathryn hahn fanfiction #kathryn hahn #fanfic

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deanwinchesterswitch · 3 years

Text

Weekly Fic Recs

Lots of variety this week. A couple of new to me writers as well.

Enjoy!

Many of these blogs and fics are NSFW-18+. Please honor any requests from a blog regarding no minors and heed the warnings for each fic.

All fics are from the SPN fandom unless otherwise noted.

-Drabbles-

The Game ~ @there-must-be-a-lock. Author's Summary: wingedcatninja requested something with Dean and “sexy rules” and I was more than happy to oblige!

"I'm Not Blonde." ~ @67midnightwriter. Author's Summary: None

Whisper To a Scream ~ @rockhoochie. Author's Summary: None

-Ficlet-

The Lost Art Of... ~ @minefield-of-a-ninja. Author's Summary: brain dump post Charcon images

-One-shots-

The One Who Got Away ~ @luci-in-trenchcoats. Author's Summary: While out with friends one night, the reader bumps into her old high school best friend, Jensen. They always had a will they, won’t they relationship but the reader finds things with Jensen don’t seem to be going as well she thinks they are…

late night calls (with you) | d.w. ~ @l4verq. Author's Summary: reader misses dean.

Pull Over ~ @agirlwithdemonblood. Author's Summary: Past memories start to suffocate you and your husband tries everything he can to bring you back to him.

Come Join The Murder ~ @princessmisery666. Author's Summary: When Dean goes to hell, he tasks Nikki with keeping an eye on Sam. She doesn’t anticipate the pain that comes with it.

My Beautiful Boy ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: Jensen is curious about something his wife said she used to do back in the day and works up the courage to give it a try…

Never Doubt the Best Man: The Bachelor Party ~ @stusbunker. Author's Summary: Dean hosts a surprise bachelor party for Sam. There are strippers and a bartender. John has a different favorite child in this AU.

-Series Chapters-

Wild (1/3) ~ @roonyxx. Author's Summary: Dean kicks you out of the bunker after he realizes his feeling for you are too strong. He does it for you own protection. But he just pushed you into the wrong hands…

Fight For Me-Chapter 3 ~ @jawritter. Author's Summary: He found you in his darkest hour. There was something about this man that just wouldn’t let you leave him alone. He needed you, almost as much as you needed him. Sometimes, even the strongest people out there need someone to fight for them too.

Home To You-Thirty-one ~ @smol-and-grumpy. Author’s Summary: Dean enlisted in the hopes to help secure enough money for Sam to be able to go to college. Of course he didn’t tell Sam. Why would he? Sam would understand, right? Turns out, Sam didn’t get it, and is giving Dean the silent treatment for over a year. In Dean’s desperation to reconnect with Sam, Dean reaches out to his brother’s best friend. Little does he know that the hurricane named Y/N will turn out to be the reason he wants to stay alive and go back home for.

-MCU-

Postcards (Masterlist) ~ @sebbytrash. Author's Summary: Takes place after Civil War. Bucky is your best friend but of course you’re in love with him. He goes off to travel the world and rediscover himself, sending you Postcards along the way, whilst you struggle with your feelings.

The T-1000 Handmaiden ~ @princessmisery666. Author's Summary: Sam has an idea, which of course involves belittling Bucky, Steve sees the potential but it’s unethical and Thor does not get the concept of subtlety or, apparently, Sam’s pop references.

-Miscellaneous-

Silly things do cease to be silly ~ @jomiddlemarch. Author's Summary: None

#weekly fic recs #fabulous writers #fic rec #111421

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chanluster · 4 years

Text

business proposals | {m}

oneshot | ceo! au | 10.9k words

“It was about time you addressed the cat and mouse game you and your boss have been playing for a time.”

s u m m a r y > > clashing heads with your annoyingly attractive boss was your everyday activity, but when a new, beautiful client comes in for the day you find yourself getting jealous. mr. lee, catching on, uses it to his absolute advantage, causing you to end up in a situation you did not think would end well. fortunately for you, with the way your dark-minded ceo’s mind worked, despite the hiccups in the middle, it ended just perfectly.

w a r n i n g s > > ceo! minho, secretary! reader, you get so annoyed at him all the time, he annoys you all the time, constant teasing, a fuckload of swearing, soooo much (kinda shit) sexual tension, flirtation back and FORTH, titles of endearment, minho is such a fucking dom, reader is a fucking BRAT, making out, fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving) you try to give him blueballs, unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!), semi-public sex (i mean they do it in his office so like), multiple orgasms, y’all be arguing during it all too HELP, minho has a sir kink sjsjskke, minho is so AGGRESSIVE HOLY SHIT, SO MUCH degradation, use of gags? (i mean he uses his tie so) basically you are 100% minho’s bitch by the end period!!

a u t h o r ’ s n o t e > > hello horny fia is back again with a minho oneshot because she can not control herself!!!1!1! thank you @hyuckworld for so much inspo and helping me out omfg the tie thing still on my mind !1!1! anyway this is inspired by minho’s soribada look cause he mf SERVED! and i hope y’all enjoy !

back to masterlist

YOUR SMILE WAS MORE LIKE A FLASH OF TEETH.

“For the last time,” you seethed, trying your very best to contain your bubbling temper, “You cannot see him if you don’t have an appointment.”

The woman before you, a striking image of curls and curves, fitted red dress, white blazer, and Louboutins elevating her height, knifed you with finely-lined eyes. “But I don’t need an appointment! Mr. Lee said so himself I could arrive at his office when I wished to speak with him!”

You pursed your lips. Of course Mr. Fucking Lee said so.

“Well, there’s nothing I can do about it, Miss Kim.” You turned to your computer, opening up the list of clients intended to meet your boss this afternoon. Sure enough, this woman’s name was not accompanied with the others. Once again, he had said some pretty words, but had not reminded you of them so you could write it down for official backing.

You could not help typing a little furiously. It was like he was trying to make your life harder.

“I demand to see him!” Miss Kim exclaimed, raising her voice so the other employees, who were scattered before you at their desks, working away, paused, witnessing the commotion. “I did not travel from another city to be rejected!”

“Ma’am,” you guttered, hands on the telephone, ready to call security, when the misty, glass-like door beside you swung upon.

A firm, sultry voice resonated in the room.

“What is the meaning of this noise?”

Out stepped the one man you were hoping would stay seated in his office.

You turned around in your seat, looking up at the suited figure of Lee Minho — CEO of the corporation you worked under, and the mastermind behind the technological revolution in your city.

He certainly looked the part: black suit unbuttoned with his tie hanging, white shirt contrasting the colours. His trousers hugged his thighs a little too tightly for your own good, designer branded shoes adorning his feet. His dark brown locks were cascading over his forehead, and his calculating eyes assessed the room, finding the reason for such noise behind his doors.

His gaze settled on the woman. “Ah, Miss Kim!” He declared, a known dazzling smile upon his lips. “It’s good you’ve arrived.”

“Of course I would come,” she said, darting her glare back to you. “This little assistant of yours was ready to throw me out of the building.”

A slight tilt of his head. “Oh, really?”

Then, his eyes descended on you, seated before him, and you noticed something already stirring behind them. “And why was this ‘little assistant of mine’ booting you out of here?”

You pointed to your computer. “She’s not on your list of appointments for today.”

“So?” A glance at the woman. “When a pretty lady asks to see me, you oblige her, understand?”

Seething, you lock your hands together. “Then what is the point of the list when you won’t follow it?”

You nearly gasped in anger when you caught slight mischief in his eyes. “Keeping you on your toes, ____.”

“As always,” you hissed, returning his malicious smirk with a scowl.

He only chuckled at your lack of amusement, turning to the woman once more. “Miss Kim,” he addressed her, opening the door, gesturing for her to enter. “Come inside.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lee,” she simpered out, widening her sharp grin at you before going inside his office.

The man stood, regarding you for a minute. You glanced at him, frown still there. “Yes?”

“I am not to be disturbed,” he said, gaze a little too intense for your liking. “Is that understood?”

You made sure to match his stare. “Yes, sir.”

And you could have sworn his lips twitched upward when he turned to his office, entering after the woman.

When the door slid shut, you let out a shuddering breath.

Why in hell were you holding your breath?

“God,” you muttered, furiously typing away on your computer, noticing another presence approaching you. “He’s going to be the death of me.”

“Do not tell me you’re talking about Mr. Lee here.”

You looked up, and rolled your eyes to find Kim Seungmin, one of the salesmen for the firm, standing before you, files in hand and a knowing smile on his lips. “I am, as a matter of fact,” you said. “And how much I want to kill him.”

The man gave you a look. “Now see, I don’t think ‘kill’ was the word I thought you’d use.”

“Oh yeah?” You crossed your arms. “Then what word do you think I’d use?”

“I don’t know, like…” his adorable smile was so unlike his words. “Kiss? Fuck even?”

You let out a harsh gasp, nearly whacking his arm with your scattered files. “Oh my God!”

“You can’t deny it, ____!” Seungmin pointed to the door. “You have a massive crush on him!”

“How can you even say that!” you demanded, pulling you near him so the others around you did not hear. “I hate that cocky bastard.”

Your friend clicked his tongue at your statement. “Then can you please explain to me why you both got enough sexual tension to suffocate the entire building?”

“We do not,” you refused instantly, picking up your mug of coffee. “You’re mistaking my bloodlust with just lust.”

“Can you at least stop pretending to me that you don’t want to suck his dick?”

Nearly choking on your coffee, you struggled it down, sending a sharp glare. “I don’t!” you raised your chin. “I bet it’s tiny anyway. Wouldn't have anything for me to suck on.”

Now that, of all the things you said that afternoon, was a complete, full blown, almost offensive, lie.

Not that you’ve caught a glimpse at the package which settled between Lee Minho’s legs. Well, you had, to your own shame, and were burning at the clothed sight, proving your little claim extremely incorrect. Your boss, devastatingly, had something substantial going for him.

Seungmin’s little laugh had you dropping down to reality. “You were thinking about his cock just now, weren’t you?”

Cheeks burning, you waved him off, groaning as you went back to your computer. Minho’s appointments looked oh so interesting. “Fuck off, Min.”

His laughter only deepened as he stepped away. “There’s no hope for you, girl. You keep daydreaming about that.”

If it weren’t for the people around you, you would have happily sent him away with a middle finger, but figured you should hang onto any scrap of professionalism left in you. The only thing you could do now was write up the new appointments for next week. Or perhaps play some Solitaire.

Anything to stop you thinking about him.

You twisted your lips into a scowl.

This was so unbelievable. Lee Minho was the greatest, most notorious asshole you knew of, yet here you were, like an absolute moron, pondering over him as if he was a lost love. All the time, when it was in meetings, or just bumping each other in the office breakroom, he managed to piss you off without effort, watching you enraged with a disgustingly ravishing smile on his revoltingly beautiful face. It was so, goddamn unfair, that he could rile you up so easily when all you could do was make him more amused.

To hell with him and his fine ass, you thought as you closed all tabs, opening up Solitaire.

Just as you thought you found a moment’s peace in this building, you heard the phone ring drastically loud, stopping you from completing a full set of one deck. Already irritated, you tried to suppress it as you picked up the handset, pressing it to your ear. “Minho and Company?”

The voice that greeted your ears made it incredibly hard to reign in your irritation. “Have you finished the list?”

“No,” was your clipped reply. You focused on the game, matching the cards to the deck of hearts.

“And when will this list finish?”

“I’m a busy woman, you know,” you drawled, aggressively clicking on your mouse. “You give me so much work it’s hard to keep up.”

“Oh, really?” Fuck him, you could hear the taunting in his voice. “So you don’t spend all day playing those stupid Windows games on your work computer?”

Your anger paused, eyes widening. The lack of response had the man cackling through the phone. “I bet you’re on that same card game you always play when you’re trying to avoid my tasks. What was the name again?”

“I can assure you, sir, I am not playing Solitaire.” You then sucked in an agitated breath at your mistake.

“Ah, that’s right.” You hated how you could hear the smirk playing on his lips. “Playing Solitaire and ignoring my work.”

Were you mistaken, or had his voice descended an octave? With the way you bit your lip, you knew you were caught anyway. “I’ll get the list done.”

“Mmm,” he got out, the low baritone still there. “And address me properly when you talk to me.”

Oh my God. “I’ll get the damned list done, sir.”

A small pause. “Good girl.”

And the line cut off.

Your hand nearly went limp holding the phone.

Good girl.

“Shut the fuck up,” you muttered, slamming the handset back in its place, feeling yourself heat up a frightening rate. “Cocky prick.”

All those curses towards him, and yet your cheeks still burned.

You did not cease your profanity — this time aiming more towards your own self.

Dear Lord. You really were in for it this time.

MINHO AND MISS KIM WERE STILL IN THAT ROOM BY THE TIME YOU HAD TO LEAVE THE OFFICE.

You decided to stay a little longer, finishing up the last of the tasks he’d assigned to you, and an hour later, when Seungmin passed your desk to exit the building, he darted his eyes to his boss’ door and wiggled his brows your way.

“Shut up,” you snapped at him, earning a cheeky smile.

“I wonder what they’re doing in there,” he thought out loud, propping a hand on your table.

You typed away, trying to dismiss the worst assumptions in your mind. “I don’t particularly care.”

Seungmin, damn him, could see right through you. “Then why are you still here? Pretending that I didn’t catch you with your ear to the door hours before?”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t lying. About three hours into the meeting, you became so restless you tried to listen in on what exactly was going on. It sounded so bizarre, when Minho had to sit in hours-long meetings every other day, but him alone in his office with that girl didn’t settle well with you.

“Oh, jealousy!” Seungmin chanted, pointing at your face. “Is that you I see before me?”

“Go away!” you waved him off, glowering at him. “I’m not jealous of some girl I saw today. Her and Minho can do whatever they want.”

“Whatever you say, ____,” he said, but the knowing smile lingered, aggravating you even more. “Good night.”

“Good night, Min,” you muttered, waiting for the man to turn out of the building before swinging in your chair.

The door welcomed you still.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Now see, you should not be letting your mind wander. Especially in situations which included your boss, another girl, and closed doors. Your gut twisted at the thought, and you were surprised at such a reaction.

What if Seungmin was right?

“No!” you whispered furiously to yourself, turning back to your computer. “Not jealous, just curious.”

Yes, that’s right. Just interested to know what the fuck they’re talking so long for.

“Oh God,” you breathed out, pressing your legs together. Maybe your friend was right. “Shit.”

Suddenly, you got up from your seat, picking up any scrap of paper and hurrying to the door. Pressing your ear to the misted glass, fingers clasping the metal handle. You could hear soft murmurs, a little laughter, but other than that, you failed to hear anything coherent.

This brought you even more agitation upon you. Doing something wrong, and it wasn’t even going as planned. This is what happened when you let yourself feel something.

Oh, no. Now you even admitted it to yourself that you had felt something for the asshole. If he ever heard of this, you would probably have to quit this job.

You pressed harder on the handle, never been more frustrated in your life than you were at that time. You were pathetic. Utterly disgraceful, but you could not help when you could not deny that Lee Minho-

You could not finish the thought.

Not when your hand slid on the handle too hard, swinging open the door. You let out a shrill screech as you stumbled inside the office, papers leaving your hands.

The conversation ceased, and you did not need to see them to know their eyes were on you.

Minho’s honey voice filled the room.

“What is this intrusion?”

You looked up, and felt your heart stop.

There he was, sitting leaned back at his plush executive chair, spinning a pen between his fingers. His brown locks were now raked back, a few strays cascading on the side of his forehead. His blazer was off, hung on his chair, and his shirt was tight on his hard chest.

Steadying yourself, but not your butterflies inside, you also saw Miss Kim hovering over him, showing him a few documents with her head a little close to his. She glanced up at you, and her face soured.

Minho snapped his fingers, shaking you out of your staring. “I asked you a question, ____.”

You wanted to snap at him, but reigned it in. “Sorry, but…”

But what? Not like you came in here with a plan.

Your eyes slid down to fallen files on the floor. “I needed to discuss...a proposal!”

Kneeling down, you picked up the scattered pieces of paper, on your feet in an instant. “Yes. A business proposal I needed to talk about.”

The man was not stupid; he saw right through your feeble excuse, with the impish gleam in his gaze. “Is that so?”

“What else would it be?” you pressed, masking your growing nerves with your irked frown.

His lips began to curve. You both stared each other down, refusing to back away. Miss Kim cleared her throat, even more angered by you now receiving his full attention.

“Shall I continue or…?” she carried off, completely deprived of his regard. Only when you glanced at her did his smile waver, raising the file.

He kept his eyes on you. “We can review this later,” he said to Miss Kim. He then addressed you. “And this time I’ll have an actual meeting planned. Happy, ____?”

You couldn’t suppress a scoff, not gone unnoticed yet unaddressed, as the woman took the files from him. She sent him a dazzling smile. “I will see you later, Mr. Lee.”

He returned it with a nod, watching her stroll past you, and out of the office. You watched the door close itself, sensing the silence more now the two of you were alone.

The quiet stretched on for longer before a hard sigh had you facing your boss once again.

“Beautiful, isn’t she,” he began, observing you from his rather messy desk.

That little comment of his pissed you right off. “The prettiest, in my opinion,” you crowed, gripping onto the files harder.

You then caught the shit-eating grin upon his face, and marred your face in a frown, causing him to splutter into laughter.

“Stop laughing,” you spat, but that only made him more breathless. “Oh, I’m leaving!”

“No you’re not,” he rasped out, finally calming down. He raised a hand across the chair before his desk. “You’re going to sit down and tell me of the proposals.”

A retort was on your tongue when you stopped, taking in his order. “Proposals?”

He cocked his head slightly, stray hairs tumbling with the action. “You said when you burst into my office that-”

He halted himself, everything falling into place.

When he focused on you this time, your stomach coiled at the way his smirk lit up his face. “Are you telling me you pretended to have appointments so you’d have that woman out of my room?”

The lack of response on his question had the man chortling. “My, my. Why so jealous, doll?” He gripped onto the arms of his chair, leaving the seat. “If you wanted me alone all you had to do was ask.”

Taking a step away from the desk, his fingers drummed on the table. “I wouldn’t have insisted on making an appointment either.”

A last surge of courage passed through you, especially from his words. “And what would you have done?” you got out.

The drumming paused, more from surprise at your question.

His piercing stare positively flared. “I don’t think you’d be able to handle it,” he guttered.

I don’t think you’d be able to handle it.

You didn’t know why that enraged you so much.

The cat and mouse game, once again being deflated by his words, leaving you disappointed. Why should you accept defeat this time?

You made sure he heard your thoughts.

“God, you really are a fucking prick!”

A pause. “Why would that be?” He took a step towards you, sharp brows furrowing.

“You…” staring at him, you screwed your face up in anger. “Toying with me all this time, yet doing nothing about it!”

That fine eyebrow was raised, but you carried on, refusing to let him speak. “Every single day, without fail, we see each other, bicker back and forth, and for what? Me all frustrated and you just enjoying it?”

You made sure you knifed your boss with a glare. “You just say words and leave. That’s all you can do.”

There was an eerie stillness after that — a slight shift in Minho’s demeanour, as his eyes narrowed, darkened at your claim. His hands, in his pockets before, slid out, and you saw they were fisted tightly.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me perfectly, sir,” you spat, that damned word he made sure you said every time . “You’re all bark and no bite.

“You’re a fucking coward.”

There it was.

The allegation against him. The words you’ve been wanting to say for so long, because you let yourself feel something for this man, and fuck, if he did not do anything about it you would quit this job here and now.

His next words were a mere whisper. They did not possess a hint of softness.

“Do you really think that?”

Another step.

Veins, slight before, we’re now more visible on his hands, trailing all the way up to the edge of the rolled up sleeves. When you caught his gaze, you nearly gasped at the pure, carnal fire that blazed within.

“Calling me a coward.”

Before you knew it, the man thundered towards you, and those veiny hands gripped your waist, pulling you to him in an iron grip. A small hiss escaped you at the sudden restraint.

“Don’t you dare call me a fucking coward again.”

His breath fanned your mouth, you mere inches from him. You made sure you kept your ground till the very end. Wherever that led you.

“Or what?” Your hands slid up to his shoulders. “Not like you would do anything. As per usual.”

And as the heavy silence reigned on the both of you, you had a little realisation.

Those words might have just been your undoing.

Because the second they left your tongue, Lee Minho growled fiercely before colliding his lips against yours.

His mouth snatched the very breath from you, an instant whine trying to escape yet refused by his lips, capturing yours and taking you with the strength of a wild beast. You nearly fell backwards from the pure momentum but were saved by his hands on you, branding their place on your skin.

The most surprising part was how you kissed him back with the same anger. The same rage which simmered the very first day you argued with him, and vowed to make his life a living hell, just like how he made yours unbearable during work. He captured your lower lip and began sucking on the flesh, and an obscenely loud moan escaped you at the contact.

The bastard was good. He was so, fucking good.

Just when you thought he’d go deeper, he pulled away, a thin bridge of saliva connecting the both of yours lips.

The trail broke when he took a step back, settling himself on his seat. That glistening mouth curved into a feline smirk, thumb stroking his lower lip.

“Still a coward, doll?”

You nearly collapsed without his hold. He took notice of your position, and scoffed at your weakness. “Looks like you took up the role instead.”

“How is that,” you rasped out, breath still uneven. “When you’re the one who stopped to sit down?”

Taking a step before him, your knees brushed against his own. “Looks like grandpa needs a rest.”

The comment had Minho’s eyes set ablaze. “You fucking—”

His hands reached out, tugging you upon him as he stayed seated. Your legs kneeled on either side of him, straddling him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, willingly accepting his lips. They worked so hypnotically with yours that you did not realise them opening your mouth completely, with his tongue sliding inside. He explored everywhere, finding your own tongue and swirling it along with his, ruining any chance of you suppressing your groaning at his actions.

Perhaps Minho took notice of your stubbornness, because his hands landed on your thighs, fingers tracing the hem of your skirt. You let the groan free as he hitched the fabric higher, higher, higher, removing himself from your lips and descending down, pouncing on a particular patch of skin on your neck.

“Already so—” he sucked hard on your neck, revelling in your whines, “—already so loud when I’ve only just kissed you?”

“Fuck you,” you breathed out, digging his nails into his shirt. He cackled at your response, sinking his teeth and creating the first bruise of the evening.

“I’m gonna have to teach you some manners,” he whispered onto your skin, raising your skirt high enough that your intricate lacing of your lingerie, black as the night, began to show. Minho practically salivated at the image; you knew from the raging lining beneath his trousers.

“All talk,” you merely said, despite the uneven breathing. “All talk and no action.”

His thumbs pressed into your thighs, ceasing your words with a little whine. It had the man capturing your lips again, pulling you down with his hands on your legs, closing any distance between you two, needing to have you all over him. Your lips swelled, bruised by the rough handling of your boss’ mouth, ravaging you in ways you didn’t dare dream of. His fingers, trailing up your skin once again, curled under the waistband of your underwear.

Your heart hammered in your chest at his touch. He was being too slow, too damn slow while you dripped with the beginning of arousal, making you a shuddering mess.

Lee Minho was about to slide the lace down when a shrill call flooded the room.

Both of you stopped dead in your tracks. The man whirled to the origins of the sound, coming from his wide open laptop — a notification for joining a meeting call popped up on the screen, automatically picking up in about five seconds.

Your boss nearly had a heart attack.

With quick thinking, Minho pried you off him, practically dumping you upon the floor with a slight groan. His hands gathered you under the table, pressing a finger to your lips with a stern look before disappearing up on his desk.

You let out a deliberately loud scoff just before he accepted the call, fingers swiping down to pinch you for calling out. You could not see his face, only from the navel down, sat right before you, caging you with his legs.

“Ah, Mr. Lee!”

A gasp almost escaped you, but remembered his glare and actually stopped. One make out session and you already obeyed him like a servant.

Over your dead body.

Your boss’ low growl had you widening your eyes. “What do you want, Chan?”

The hazy answer revealed his employee’s concern. “Mr. Lee, are you okay?” You heard him say through the laptop speaker.

You saw Minho’s leg start bouncing rapidly, and although you could not see his expression, you knew that he was, most definitely, pissed off. “I’m perfect. Fantastic even. Now what do you want?”

You were ready to sit still, wait through the meeting as Chan’s uncertain voice spoke of some specific business deals that needed to be confirmed, few details that needed to be checked over. However, the way your arousal still dripped, ever so slowly, was a weight, reminding you of the activities occurring mere moments before. You didn’t even bother to pull your skirt down.

It was settled. You needed this problem of yours solved now, or never.

Fortunately for you, your solution was presented to you, right before your eyes, and right between Minho’s legs.

His cock still stood, erect against the lining of his trousers.

You gulped at the sight. The bastard was mean, flaunting it all before you, knowing you would have thrust it straight in your mouth if you hadn’t been interrupted.

A spark ignited within you. Why should it stop you now?

Oh God. Why were you suddenly becoming so bold? Was it you, being so turned on that you needed your needs met without wait? Whatever the reason, you found nothing to argue against it.

If Minho was playing games with you, then you would play along with him.

Hands stretching on the floor, you crawled towards him, settling yourself between the space his legs created. Kneeling slightly, your fingers extended towards the zipper on his trousers, prying it down.

The man stilled under your touch.

Head protruding from the edge of the table, you spied Minho’s eyes, ever so carefully darting down to you, his mouth parting slightly under the cover of his hand. He hummed at Chan’s words, but you knew his interest was rooted only to you and your daring fingers.

When you unzipped his trousers, ready to peel them down, his other hand, out of the sight of the laptop, caught your wrist. His grip dug into your skin, stopping you in your tracks.

You looked up at him, making sure you expose your desperation in your eyes. His own widened, only for a second before dragging them back on the screen. A smirk curved onto your lips, knowing he was so affected by your mere actions. How you dared to toy with your boss.

The pout-like expression paid off, when the grip on your wrist loosened. Hurriedly your hands went to the waistband of his trousers, pulling the fabric down, and you had to commend Minho’s ability to look so calm when you were practically drooling at the sight that welcomed you.

You did not even bother to pull the pants right down, stopping just under his knees as you admired his finely sculpted thighs. It was no secret that your boss worked out everyday after he was done with meetings, and every time you caught evidence of his toils you wished you didn’t inwardly moan at the sight. His taut muscle stretched all the way up to his underwear, slightly soiled at the tip of his dick, outlined against the fabric.

Minho glanced down for a second at his antics, and when he looked back at the laptop again there was a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“Chan, hurry and finish this up,” he jeered.

This was enough signal to start peeling his boxers down too.

Your eyes nearly popped out of your sockets when you saw his cock spring free, curving proudly with its tip inches from his abdomen. The top glistened with the pre-cum, trailing down the length.

Oh dear God.

Your index, on instinct, reached out, cutting the white trail as you journeyed up the shaft. Minho’s low, barely audible growl had you shivering.

“Mr. Lee, you don’t look so well,” you heard the hazy worry of your coworker. You couldn’t help the giggle, and Minho’s side glare had you grinning.

He was not the one in control at the moment.

“I said I’m fine, Chan,” he snapped, and when you swiped up the remaining pre-cum on the head his dick twitched, a choked breath escaping. “Perfectly fine!”

“Uh, okay, then, this won’t take much longer…”

You, on the other hand, were just getting started.

Fingers, first stroking up the shaft, now wrapped around his cock, and with your heart in your throat you began a slow rhythm of sliding your hand up and down. Glancing up, you caught the colour of his face draining, using every ounce of his strength not to groan out loud.

You savoured the harsh tick in his jaw, quickening your pace and watched the man lose his cool, nerves in his neck protruding. Oh God, he was on the edge of his patience. It only encouraged your risky behaviour, dick hardening even more beneath your touch.

Still, there was no vocal outcry, to your irritation. You wanted to embarrass him during his meeting. Make him shut that laptop and moan out what he’s feeling. With these goals in mind, you cupped the base, and snuck a little closer, your face mere inches from his cock.

Taking one last peek at his paled face, you brought out your tongue and slid it along the head.

A soft groan emitted from your boss.

Chan’s monologuing of events paused, but the look on Minho’s face had him hurriedly continuing, while you progressed on, lapping up the remaining pre-cum you couldn’t catch with your index. You were never fond of the taste, but you took it in anyway, just to see the bastard’s mouth part in a way which had you almost leaking too.

Done with the soft, kitty licks, you hung on to your courage as you opened your mouth a little wider, taking in the head with your lips. Your hands stay wrapped around his cock as you, slowly, so slowly, went down, taking in inch by inch.

Minho’s fist smacked against the desk.

“Mr. Lee—”

“Ask me again, and you’re fired,” your boss guttered, hips sliding forward to push his cock further into your mouth. You nearly gagged at the action, but take it all in, obliging him because then you created a pattern of bobbing your head. Up and down, going easy, relaxed at first, you were sure Lee Minho was going to bring down his office.

But he didn’t.

And all because of that fucking meeting.

Suddenly angered, you did not bother fastening your pace, ready to give him blue balls for not reacting to your touches. Your mouth was back on top, lips still wrapped around the head, when you looked up at your boss through your lashes.

He stared down at you. Widened his eyes at the sight of you still enveloping his cock with your mouth, your gaze revealing the irritation of his lack of response.

Oh, he’ll give you something to work with.

His hand immediately when to the back of your head, stopping you from leaving as the other hand grabbed at the laptop screen.

Chan knew exactly what he was about to do. “Mr. Lee, I still have one more thing—”

You did not hear anymore, hearing the sharp SNAP! of the laptop shutting.

The silence returned, but did not stay for long as, gradually, Minho looked down at you, properly this time, and offered you such a lust-filled stare you were glad you did not leave your place upon his cock.

“Did you really think, doll,” he whispered, running his fingers through your hair, “That I was going to let you leave me? Just like that?”

You did not answer back — obviously, because your mouth was a little occupied, but you raised your brows at him, hands tightening at his base. He let out a shuddered breath, chuckling.

“Still a brat, hmm? At least you’re not talking back.”

He tugged harder at your locks. “If this was the way to shut you up, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Although your cheeks burned, you made sure to shut him up when you started your flow once again, closing your eyes as you went up and down on him.

Only this time, you had a little assistance.

Minho’s groaning roamed the room, like sweet music to your ears as you gradually fastened, working his dick with your hands too. Instinctively, the man bucked his hips into you, needing to have all of his inches in your mouth, needing to release all that pent up frustration that you created for him.

He said as much.

“Look at you,” he rasped up at you, curling away flyaways from your face as you worked on him. “Taking all of my cock…ah, all of my cock in your pretty little mouth.”

His filth was encouragement, and as you were sucking harder you could tell he was getting near. Pride washed over you, as your one of your hands reached out to play with his balls, earning a harsh moan from his lips.

“Ah—keep going, doll,” he rasped, his hips straying from a solid rhythm, knowing he’s going to let go soon if you kept up at this rate. “Doing so well.”

Perhaps these pieces of praise had you looking up, making sure he was watching as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him all in fully, a slight curve to your lips.

The absolute sin in the image of you kneeling before him, with his full length in you, had him crying out. He could not control the release that shot into your throat, pouring down and making you gag at its suddenness. Still, you took it all in, accepted the cum instead of spitting it out.

When he was finished, slightly heaving, his eyes danced at you slowly swallowing it down, a challenge in the quirk of your brow. Sweat beaded down at your forehead, but knowing you had Minho moaning over your skill was something to take pride in.

Lapping up the remaining cum, you swiped it off with the back of your hand. “Nice meeting, sir?”

The man could only laugh at your comment, so normal despite the situation. ”Adequate,” he drawled, pulling his boxers and trousers up as he cleaned off his dick. “But there’s still much to discuss.”

He wheeled his chair back, arms wrapping around you to free you from under the desk. You were glad of his help, for your legs were near-buckling. He noticed this too, for a smirk began to play on his lips.

Leaving you for a just a moment, he turned to his desk. He threw all his work off the top, paper and stationary flying from the table and scattering onto the floor. His laptop was thrusted at the ends of the table, unable to be a distraction.

“Hey, your papers will be all messed up,” you started, but he surprised you with a heart-searing kiss, making you almost collapse. You let his tongue slide inside instantly, hands gripping harder onto your hips as he tasted his release on your tongue, and when he roughly tugged on your lower lip, you gasped lightly at the harsh treatment.

He backed you further, the back of your upper thighs hitting his desk, and when he left your lips, his dark gaze had you weakened.

“I don’t really give a fuck about the papers right now, doll.”

You would have leaked out your arousal there and then. “Minho—”

“Did I tell you to call me Minho?” He demanded, fingers digging into your hips. Dazed, you tilted your head, only wanting his tongue down your throat again.

Catching the expression, he shook his head. “I’ll let you off today because you’re being a good little bitch this time.”

Dear God, you hated how you loved being called that.

His tongue working on your neck had you whimpering. “It’s sir to you, understand?”

You already had a counterpoint to piss him off with, but the animalistic threat in his eyes had you gulping. “Yes sir.”

The title had him going hard all over again. He teethed another hickey onto your skin, finding solace in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you all wet for me before, doll,” he whispered, hands sliding down, gripping the hem of your skirt. He hurriedly hitched it upwards, bunching it at your hips.

His fingers skimmed over your thighs before feeling the soft silk of your black lingerie, a familiar sight. “Ah, see?” His sole index traced over the front, dipping the fabric in your slit, already staining with your arousal. “All wet, just for me.”

“Stop it,” you whined, hands on his shoulders. “Stop teasing.”

“Since when do you order me around, ____?” He crowed, palming your clothed cunt, completely ignoring your demands. A ragged breath escaped you at the friction, so pleasurably wonderful you feared what would happen to you when he plays with you without the thin layer.

His attitude, however, still pissed you right off.

“I’ll be dried up by the time you start,” you seethed at him, nails digging into his shoulders. Provoking him was your only option, to get him to stop beating around and rail you on his desk.

“I don’t think so, doll,” he purred, other hand playing with the bands of your panties. You were about to snap when he hooked a finger over the hem of the lace and slid the underwear right down, just above your knee, and your breathing hitched as you found his gaze rooted to your now exposed cunt, already glistening from your arousal.

Minho’s mouth was practically salivating.

Despite the nerves growing in your belly, you still snapped him out of his mind drooling. “Are you going to just keep staring? Because that isn’t going to make me cum.”

His eyes slid to you, and shit, you could tell how much he wanted to beat your ass for your useless commentary. “Don’t make me shut you up again.”

“Talk, talk, talk,” you provoked, grabbing hold of his black tie.

A primal growl emitted from his throat, and when his fingers began skimming over the surface, you let out a whimper. “Oh, so my little doll wants to cum all over my fingers, then?” he muttered, eyes gleaming with an indecipherable goal.

His dirty words, along with him playing over your folds, had your stomach all knotted up. It was this tight feeling which had you breathing out, “Yes sir.”

The title at the end which had him slipping the first finger inside of you.

The feeling of his index sliding inside had you moaning much too loud for an action so small. Minho thoroughly enjoyed your reaction, finger almost fully inside when he palmed your core as well, already had you halfway there to your own undoing.

When his finger was up to the knuckle, his other hand found refuge in your locks, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat. He began to slowly pull out, creating the same gradual rhythm you had when your mouth was on his cock before. When only the pad of his finger was inside, he thrust back in, making you whine at the rush.

If that was not enough, a second finger joined in on his labour, stretching your walls and you hissed at the snugness of his digits in your cunt, continuing that pattern which had you crying out from pure ecstasy. Damn the bastard, but he was so good at making you helpless.

A deep feeling settled in your gut, and you knew if he kept up at this, you were going to cum all over him. “I-I’m close,” you got out, wrapping your hand around the tie further, pulling him even closer.

Minho, satisfied with creating a painting of lovebites upon your neck, locked your gaze with his. You were surprised to find sinister mischief in his eyes. “My babydoll is going to cum, now?” he questioned, further puzzled to hear softness in his usual fire-like voice. You nodded desperately, praying that he finger-fucks you after this calm. All you desired now was sweet release.

Which was why you cried out in protest when he slipped his fingers out entirely.

Your lust-hazed eyes looked at him, all wide. “Wh-what?”

The arousal-stained fingers gripped your thigh, a small yelp escaping you. The man’s other hand gripped your chain, making sure you don’t break his carnal stare. “You don’t get to cum unless I say so.”

You nearly sobbed as you felt your orgasm start to fade. You knifed him with a glare, pulling him a hair’s breadth from you with the tie. “What the fuck is up with that, sir?”

His grip on your chin tightened. “Don’t argue back, doll.”

The two digits were pushed inside you once again, and still, damn your senses, your breathing hitched. “If I see release on my fingers, I’ll fuck the orgasm up, understand?”

Although the nerves were back, you wished looks could kill when you stared at him. So he’s going to keep toying with you, then?

Well. Two could play that game.

You convinced him with a timid smile, wrapping your hand around his tie all the way. “As you say, sir.”

Delighted at your response, he struck up that hypnotic flow of his fingers, slowly pumping inside of you. Of course, you relished the way he worked within you, knowing he was waiting for the final cry when he hit a specific spot, but you had to show him your place.

Instead of moaning down the office, like you wished you would, your stubbornness silenced you completely.

Even when Minho fastened his pace, making it incredibly hard for you to stay rigid, you gave him a taste of his own medicine, not a single whine escaping you, just the way he stayed angrily quiet in the meeting. His tie was your only source of venting out your frustration, pulling on it so harshly you wondered how the man’s neck hadn’t given in yet.

A strange sense of hysteria bubbled within you when your boss noticed your silence. Snarling, he dug deeper, and when he hit your g-spot, your eyes nearly burst out of your sockets.

“Being a fucking brat again?” he retorted, fingers playing with the spot until finally, a soft whine came free of your tongue. “Trying to mock me?”

You took in a ragged breath, hair a mess, courtesy of his hand. You glared and glared, but still, you refused to say anything. Refused to say a word, and when you saw his mouth twist into a scowl you savoured his anger.

He ripped his hand from your tie, loosening it from his neck. He straightened it out, every action fuelled with aggression. It made your whole body crawl with excitement.

You parted your mouth to piss him off even more when you suddenly felt a mouthful of silk, completely stopping you. Trying to whine, the tie knotted behind your head, and Minho pulled so hard it nearly stopped your blood circulation.

“Didn’t want to moan, huh?” he guttered, tying up a pretty knot beneath your locks. “Tried to be smart, did you?

The tie wedged inside your mouth stopped you from answering back, Minho taking great satisfaction in your broken mumbling. “Oh, so you wanna talk now?” he mocked, slowly descending, until his face was at level with your cunt. He looked up, and the sight had you shutting up immediately. “No, we’ll play your little game.”

His eyes resembled a demon’s. “One fucking word from you and you’ll be sorry,” he warned, hands, now on your thighs, squeezing the muscle. The anger was so cold you only nodded erratically, fingers gripping the edge of the table.

Spreading your legs a slight, he closed the distance, tongue opening the seams and licking the surface.

You could not help the stifled moan which worked its way out the gag.

Retracting at your reaction, he glanced up, fingers digging into your skin. “Shut your fucking mouth,” he growled, trailing down your inner thigh. That command alone had you in near tears.

He didn’t wait for your incoherable answer as he dived right back in, tongue now licking your clit in a way which had you seeing stars, along with the added assault of his two digits pumping your core. He immediately found your sweet spot and curled his fingers, knowing you would melt right on his face.

Because the gag worked wonders in ceasing your words, you had to vent out your release through gripping Minho’s hair, pushing further, begging him to just let you cum all over his face. The man was a mean prick, though, and wouldn’t ever give you that satisfaction.

His fingers increased their tempo, in and out, and your orgasm was right on the edge, threatening to wash over you if he didn’t stop. You whined as much as you could this time, praying he understood what you meant, and not just you provoking him further.

You tried to curse yourself at how pathetic you were in that state, but you were honestly so fucked out you didn’t particularly care. All you wanted now was for Minho to ruin you.

The man, taking notice of your cries, paused his licking, fingers still at their thrusting. His eyes still up at your ravaged state, and you nearly undid yourself at the pure pride that shone in his gaze. “Does my little brat wanna cum all over my face?” he cooed darkly, and you could not nod fast enough, earning a husky chuckle from him.

“Will you talk back?” God, an even faster shake of your head, eyes glistening. “You better fucking not.” he sighed, blowing on your cunt which had you wailing into the silk. “Well, since the gag’s still on…”

He offered you a small grin, enough to drive you insane.

“Go on then, you fucking slut. Cum on my face.”

His mouth was upon your cunt in seconds, just in time for you crying out into the tie-gag as you released your orgasm, creating a mess of him as you spilled yourself onto his tongue, his chin, everywhere, barely avoiding the office floor. Minho slowed his pumping inside, eventually ceasing as he took in your release, pulling away.

You caught the slight spillage scattered on his chin, and he slid his tongue down, looking up at you with feline amusement. “All that bitching, and you still cummed,” he mused, soothing your throbbing with his fingers. “Still gonna call me a coward?”

He stood, his clothed hard on rubbing against your folds, and you knew you that despite the orgasm, you needed more. His mere fingers, however heavenly, were not enough.

His one hand cupped your head while the other tugged on the gag, pulling it down from your mouth. You coughed lightly at the freedom, desire swirling in your features still. “I…” you started, but your throat still hurt. “I…”

“Use you words, doll,” he ordered, unravelling the knot on his tie behind you. “God knows you use them too well.”

“F-fuck...you,” you rasped out, causing him to raise a brow.

“Still got attitude?” He traced his thumb over your cheek. “Despite you whining like a little bitch to let you cum?”

His hands left your face, sliding to your thighs as he gripped onto them, having you sit on the desk. He then moved down further, tossing your lingerie before wrapping your legs around his waist.

Leaning in, his chuckle tickled your lips. “Guess I’m gonna have to fuck the brat out of you.”

That alone would have had you moaning if Minho didn’t shut you up with a rough kiss, fingers sloppily unbuttoning your shirt. He sucked on your tongue, failing to take the shirt off, and with a harsh groan ripped the parting, buttons popping to the floor. He peeled the attire off you, dumping it with your panties, and when he pulled away, he took in your intricately laced bra, and his malice was replaced with pure, unadulterated lust.

“God, I’m going to ruin you, doll.”

You answered with capturing his mouth, nibbling on his bottom lip, his clothed boner creating friction against your inner thighs. His hands ravaged all over your exposed skin, while your own returned the favour, unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off. You ran your fingers up his abdomen, the granite solidity having you rolling your hips against him. Smiling against your lips, you felt his hands descend, gripping at the underside of your thighs before he lifted you up.

You gasped lightly, wrapping your hands around his neck as Minho, while leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, collarbone, tongue sliding along, turned around, your back to the full view of the nightlife of the city, revealed through floor length windows of his office all around. Walking towards it, he backed you up against the glass, the cold sending shivers down your spine. That, and Minho leaving core-shaking kisses upon your skin, as he began to unhook your bra strap, tearing the lingerie off you.

“Minho!” you exclaimed, when he planted his lips upon your bare breast, sole finger playing with the other. Hearing his name had him grinding against you, making you whimper.

He went up, erratic breathing entering your ears. “It’s sir to you,” he snapped, before diving back in on your breast, licking over your nipple so thoroughly that you felt that overgrowing need to release once again. Again, with the teasing, the playing, when all you needed was his cock to fill you right up.

“Sir, p-please,” you begged, your legs locked tightly behind him.

“Please what, doll?” he hissed onto your skin, one hand tracing your throat.

One more thrust of his hips and your eyes pricked with tears. “P-please fuck me, sir,” the knots in your belly growing.

“Finally,” he breathed out, thumbing your neck, softly compared to the hard on you were practically sitting on. “You’re not being a little bitch.”

One hand still clasped around his neck, you brought the other down to his trousers. Looking up at him, he almost softened.

“Now you’re asking permission?” he cooed, straying from your breasts. “Being a good girl for me?”

You never had an idea on how much that affected you. “Don’t push it,” you countered, a tired smirk still playing on your lips.

“Go on, doll,” he said, hitching you higher on the glass, moistening with the sweat beading down your back. “But I like you better when you beg.”

“Let’s see if you-ah!” you were cut off when you pulled his trousers down, and his cock tried to burst from his stained underwear, rubbing against your cunt much too deliciously. “Fuck me hard enough.”

“Stop running your mouth and pull my boxers off,” he ordered, and this you willingly obliged, careful of your leg-lock as you peeled them down to his knees, he getting them clean off. When his cock sprung free, you were salivating at the sight, angry red and ready to have it inside of you.

When he caught your blatant staring, he snapped his fingers. “Careful, or you’ll start cumming without my permission.”

Your widened eyes darted to him, and your lack of response had him actually laughing. “Already forgotten your words?” he mocked, fingers gripping your chin. “My babydoll is getting dumb staring at my cock.”

“Please, sir,” you murmured, locking your hands behind his neck. “P-please fuck me.”

Minho let out a pleasured sigh at your pleading. “As you wish, ____.”

Pressing his forehead against yours, he clasped his cock, directing the tip to your entrance, already staining the surface with its pre-cum. His other hand gripped onto your hip, steadying you against the glass, now slightly misted.

“Ready?” he asked, surprised to hear a little softness as he caressed your hip with his thumb.

You nodded against his forehead, parting your mouth. “Yes, sir.”

A little scoff escaped him. “Good girl.”

That was all he needed before he began the final descent.

His cock slid inside, and your breathing turned irregular as your walls stretched slightly at the intrusion. He went further and further, moving ever so slowly to let you adjust. Lord knows you needed to, when his dick was so big.

“O-oh my God—” you stumbled out, feeling as if the man had filled you right up to your gut when he was finished. You kept deathly still, fearing you might shatter if you even moved the wrong way.

“It’s okay, doll,” he reassured you, hand leaving his cock and settling upon your other hip. “Whenever you’re set.”

“I’m good,” you said, more scared that you would cum right onto his dick if he tried to move inside you. “Stop worrying and...and fuck me already.”

His thumbs pressed harder on your sides, a pleasured sting ringing. “Now I won’t regret it if you can’t walk after this.”

A ragged scoff escaped you. “We’ll see about that-”

Well, you really couldn’t when Minho began to pull out.

Your mockery was cut off with a shrill cry, hold tightening on him as his cock slowly slid out. The gradual process was so pleasurable you had to hold onto him for dear life, or you knew you would collapse onto the office floor. The man made sure that never happened, grip on your sides never slipping, pressing you against the warming glass.

“I’ve only just started,” he drawled breathlessly, still relishing how loud you were being despite him merely beginning. “Has my babydoll never been fucked before?”

You had, but never had anyone made you so weakened by a simple pull out. In fact, your sexual life was average at best, but you telling him that he would, by far, be the biggest mistake. He’s already got an ego the size of his cock - you were not going to inflate it any larger.

“H-have been,” you gasped out. “B-better even.”

That false claim had him knitting his brows in anger. He thrusted his dick right back in, and another whine choked out of you.

“Liar,” he spat, filling you right to the brim. “Lying to me when my cock’s inside you.”

God, the rage that filled his veins was pure ecstasy in your mind. Good, you thought, making sure you chuckled at him. Provoke him till he breaks you.

“H-he was so much-argh!” you just couldn’t get a word out when he began to pull out once more, Minho now attacking your neck with his lips, bruised patches of your skin as he started up a painfully delightful rhythm of pushing and pulling his cock into you.

“Go on, you fucking brat,” he snarled onto your throat, licking up the column. “Try and tell me there was anyone better.”

You were on to tell him, gloat breathlessly that there were all these obviously real people who had fucked you into oblivion, but when his fingers began to prod at your clit those lies were replaced with thundering mewls, nails digging into his back.

Fastening his pace, you rolled your eyes back, head hitting the glass. Minho, watching you, slammed his hips forward, hitching you upward with the sheer force of his cock and snapping you out of your haze, making you look at him.

“I asked you something, doll,” he demanded with rich sarcasm, fingers never stopping on your clit, nearly taking you over the edge. When the head of his dick hit a certain spot, deep into your core, you couldn’t even control the slight drool which trailed down your spit-slick lips.

Minho’s dark laughter only had the knots tightening in your belly. “Awww, my babydoll’s so fucked out she can’t even speak?” his mouth curled into a smirk. “Only a useless set of holes for me to toy with, aren’t you?”

You thought you said something, hopefully something to shut him up, but when your orgasm was right at the tip of your cunt you knew it was as the bastard said - useless.

As you predicted, Minho quickened his fingers on your bud. “Worthless fucking bitch,” he mocked mercilessly, practically branding you against the glass. With the sheer anger he fucked you with, you were scared the windows would crack. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“C-close, sir,” you finally got out, managed to formulate the only words you needed at that moment. Your boss, at this, only increased his pace of his erratic thrusts, practically decimating your cunt with his cock. You had a feeling among the lust-filled haze of your mind that he, too, was getting close, with the way his flow turned sloppy.

“And…” he took in a sharp breath. “And what about it?”

Oh, you knew what his last game was. Permission from him, pleading to let you spill your arousal all over his cock.

In any normal circumstance, you would have laughed at their face. Made sure they never asked something so atrocious.

Lee Minho, however, was another case entirely. Not when he was your lifeline, the only one in the universe who could save you from this impending doom. Even though he was the bastard who brought it down on you in the first place.

So you did what possibly no human being could ever ask of you.

You pleaded.

Practically begged to let you feel sweet release.

“Can I…” another soft cry left your lips. “F-fuck, please...can I cum?”

Minho imprisoned you with his gaze. Locks sticking to his forehead, mouth parted in desire, and pupils dilated, you still found him so utterly beautiful, despite the wilderness beneath. Found him even more so when he finally decided to show you some mercy.

“Go on, babydoll. Cum for me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Your vision nearly blacked out when you obliged, orgasm spilling out from the tight spaces between your walls and his cock, dribbling down your legs and dripping onto the office carpet. The sight of your spillage had Minho finishing off his own thrusts, releasing an earth-shattering cry as he barrelled his own release into you, ropes of cum spilling out of your cunt, joining your mess on the floor.

A slight peaceful stillness settled over the office, save for the both of you, breathing as if you had been underwater this whole time. Minho’s cock was still inside you, snug around your moistened walls. Slowly, he pulled it out, hanging limp from use, and your cunt felt hollow, emptier than it has ever felt before.

You unlocked your legs from his waist, immediately regretting the action when they gave out under you. Collapsing onto Minho, you were instantly met with his arms, holding you up.

“Careful,” he muttered, leading you to his chair, settling you down on the plush leather. He pulled his boxers up, along with his trousers, finding your own attire on the floor and placing it on your lap.

Smiling lazily, you started adorning your rather dirtied attire. “A good business proposal, no?” you mused, referring to your terrible excuse at the beginning of the evening.

Remembering, he chuckled, putting on his shirt. “I never bought that anyway, doll,” he merely said, buttoning to the top. “I knew you were jealous.”

Cheeks burning, you mumbled a little shut up, earning yourself a grin from the man. Finding your own shirt useless from Minho ripping it open, you said so to the man. “Look what you’ve done to my top”

He only spared it a glance before grabbing his tie, stained with your saliva. “Look what you’ve done to my tie.”

“That was your own fault,” you remarked, hoping your blazer would cover your front up. “You put the gag on me, prick.”

“Feeling brave already?” Minho purred, already putting you on a familiar edge. “Thought I’d fucked the brat out of you by now.”

Oh, he really did. He truly made you his little bitch not moments ago, and perhaps that would be rooted in you for the future.

But of course, you’re not going to tell him that.

You stood up from his chair, slipping into your heels. His eyes watched you as you walked to the door, opening it wide.

You looked back, catching something akin to wonder in his gaze.

“It’s going to take a little more than that, sir,” you declared, and left the room, closing the door behind you.

And as you prepared to leave the building, Lee Minho stayed rooted in his office, feeling his insides go wild all over.

It’s going to take a little more than that, sir.

Oh, God.

The man scoffed.

“Fucking brat.”

“I DEMAND TO BE LET IN!”

Once again, you rolled your eyes at Miss Kim, who was now adorned in magenta, long boots tapping against the marble floor.

“Mr. Lee is busy, Miss Kim,” you told her for the umpteenth time, refusing to believe that one seemingly intelligent woman, who had her own business, could be so thick-headed. “If you would just sit down—”

“You don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped, pointing an acrylic-painted finger at you. “I am a special client of Mr. Lee’s, and don’t need an appointment.”

You let out a sharp breath through your nose. It had not even been two days before she was back at the office, demanding Minho’s presence for the continuation of her meeting before you interrupted them.

A small smile caught onto your lips. Thank God you did.

“Hey!”

You perked up, brows instantly furrowing. “Miss Kim, just like the last time, I cannot help you. I can only give you entrance inside if you have an official appointment.”

Letting out a harsh laugh, she shook her head, wiggling the same finger at you. “Miss whatever your name is, I don’t like to have my time wasted, and you certainly are wasting my time. If I say I want to see Mr. Lee then you better damn well let me see Mr. Lee!”

Your mouth nearly opened to snap back at her when the glass door beside you swung open, and out stepped the CEO himself, who possessed the same irritation on his face as you did as he leaned his figure against the doorway.

“What is this constant racket?” he complained to no one in particular, and when his eyes fell upon his unofficial client he stopped. “Oh, good afternoon Miss Kim.”

“Mr. Lee, your little assistant is being difficult once again,” the woman declared, glaring at you. “She did this the last time I was here, and even when you let me in she’s doing the same thing again.”

“Oh, really now?” Minho got out. He turned to you, his dashing face exposing slight amusement at the claim. “Is that so, ____?”

You fought the urge to smirk at him. “She does not have an appointment,” you explained, spinning your pencil to avoid his searing gaze. “You told me only to let the people who’ve made appointments enter your office.”

Minho grinned for you. “That I did,” he confessed, eyes sliding to Miss Kim, whose smug smile faltered. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid the rules must be followed.”

The woman’s arrogance faded completely when the words left his mouth, finding herself defeated. “I see,” she said, still souring at the sight of you. “Well, I’ll phone up tomorrow morning.”

“You do that, Miss Kim,” he agreed, and watched as the woman turned on her heel, grumpily exiting the building.

The man found your eyes, and you saw them dance with mischief. You already felt your heartbeat pick up the pace when he walked over to you, planting his hands on your desk. “I need you inside the office, doll.”

Oh my God. “Whatever for, sir?” you asked innocently, trying to focus on your round of Solitaire, stark on the computer screen.

The table creaked underneath his fists at the title. “Let’s say it’s a…” he leaned in a little, careful of his employees beyond the hallway. His voice conveyed a slight husky tone. “A business proposal.”

Shivers crawled down your spine. Fuck him. Fuck him for bringing up your shitty excuse of two days ago. “I hate you,” you whispered harshly to him, despite the nerves.

His eyes never left you. “We’ll see about that when we start the meeting, doll.”

He stood straighter, opening his office door. “Now are you coming in?”

You studied the open door, the hidden opportunity that laid beyond. When you caught the growing lust in his gaze, you pressed your thighs together.

Standing up, you hurried to the doorway, earning chuckling from your boss. “Shut up, asshole,” you hissed, entering the fated office. Seeing the desk already had your cheeks burning.

“It’s sir to you, brat,” he only said, hands already on you as he closed the door.

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