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sio-writes · 1 year

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Sacrifice - Chapter 8

<Chapter 7

<<Chapter 1

Summary: This winter has been brutal, and Kyla is out of options. So, with teary eyes, she takes her best goat into the woods, hoping for some pity from whatever god finds her. And oh, she is found.

Tags: Casual alcohol consumption; NSFW; sexual manipulation through edging

Aurelius continues his routine and I continue mine, and we step around each other like ghosts, neither acknowledging the other's presence or ignoring completely. Dachaigh keeps me company while I mull over my conversation with Eodine.

Aurelius, as it turns out, is very good at hiding, both himself and his things. Dachaigh must be in leagues with him, because after examining every book on the lower floor I still have the exact same information as last week. No other journal or anything written in Aurelius’ handwriting exists where I can reach.

The upper floors are impossible, too. When I try to reach even the closest one, just one level up, the height makes me so dizzy I can barely grab a handful of books before I fall over the railing. I go through each with a swift hand, only stopping to squint at the handwriting before moving onto the next. The process takes up my morning energy, and I quietly pray for the goat’s forgiveness in skipping their breakfast.

But each book I pull down is a dead end. Nothing. And my patience thins with each hour that drags on.

After several days of searching and coming up empty handed, I’m too frustrated to continue. I leave Aurelius’ home and walk down the river path to the changeling cottage, and they greet me with smiles and hugs.

Gregory leads me by the hand to the back of the house, where the group is engrossed in some kind of game. There’s a square folding board on the low table surrounded by an array of drinks, and in the center is a tower of wooden blocks, stacked in alternating rows of three,and several have been removed making the tower lean dangerously to the right. In the corner of the room is a phonograph, much fancier than I've ever seen, softly playing an easy tune with instruments I've never heard before. The music fills the brief pauses, carrying the conversations like boats on a wave.

Sveta offers me her seat, but I don’t know how to play the game, so I find a free spot on the end of the couch and watch until I understand the rules.

The game starts with a person carefully removing one of the colored blocks from the tower, and written on the block is an action they must perform. If they don’t perform the action, they draw two more blocks, and then four, and then eight and so on. The most common actions involve the drinks such as adding more alcohol or finishing it off and making another, and the other actions are usually small things, like standing on one foot for the duration of the game, or only speaking in chicken squawks. I think Kimiko even threw some household chores in there, given that she smirks each time one of her blocks is drawn.

By the look of the half-empty glasses and opened bottles and tilting tower, they're nearly through with this round. They're all energetic and full of laughter, and it's hard not to laugh with them, leaning in every time someone pulls a block and the tower jolts dangerously.

Gregory's turn is the last of this round-- he's swaying on his knees as he leans over the table, tapping on the edge of a block with short nails, leaving a single block in the center to carry all the weight above it. The moment Gregory removes his block, the tower collapses and the whole group throws jeers at him.

Another round is set up, and Sveta turns to me.

“Kaitlyn, you should play!” she encourages, and I chew the inside of my cheek as I consider it.

I’ve only been out drinking once or twice, when my mother and my schedule both permitted it. But the ale at the town tavern was watered down and chalky, and our tavernkeep lacked the gold for anything of higher quality, so I only needed those few trips to steer me away from the bar for good. But the drinks here are more colorful, the glass bottles of alcohol and spirits on the table remind me of the bathroom soaps that Dachaigh lets me use.

They're all looking at me expectantly, even icy Josefina is staring a challenge, and I am truly interested in this game, the rowdiness and jeering have drawn me in. I finally concede.

“I suppose so,” I say, and Gregory jumps from the spot he’s standing in, legs fused together from the last block he chose as he hops to the kitchen.

“Whaddya like, Kate?” he shouts.

“Anything but ale,” I respond as both Sveta and Emile crunch themselves together to make room for me.

Gregory steps out of the kitchen, walking normally and sticking his nose up at the boos and hisses of the others.

"I'm not spilling this beautiful drink," he says as he sets it in front of me. The drink is bubbly, with the top a bright cranberry-red that fades to clear at the bottom, and he's taken a wedge of lime and stuck it to the rim.

"It's a good beginner cocktail, but you'll wanna stir it first," Gregory says, nudging my shoulder with his own and winking at me.

I stir the drink with my finger until the whole thing is a pale pink, and then I pop my finger into my mouth. Oh! It is cranberry! And the fizziness reminds me of ale, but with a different taste, it's not bitter or lingering. I most definitely feel the burn of alcohol behind it all, but the cranberry and this sweet fizzy drink have cut through it.

I take a long sip of my drink and Gregory rests his shoulder against mine. "You like it?"

"I do, thank you so much."

The next tower is set up while I sip on my drink, and I share pleasantries with Gregory and Sveta. They tell me to come visit more often, to stop by with more fruit, and it makes me feel warm that they enjoy my company. Kimiko asks about my dress, and when I tell her I made it her mouth opens on an 'O', and starts the others on a tirade of questions about how I made it.

The dress is one from the fabric stocks from the market, a deep purple with a triangle pattern woven in. It had been one of the nicer fabrics I'd received and wanted to use right away, and their acknowledgment of my craftsmanship makes me want to hide behind my drink. I've always loved to sew.

The game starts with Sveta and goes through each person, and eventually my turn is up. I copy Josefina's method of testing a few blocks with my fingers to see if they're loose, and pull one out with ease, squinting at the small script. “Um, I have to…” I flip the block around, but that doesn’t make the words magically appear.

“My handwriting can’t be that bad,” Gregory jokes, leaning over my shoulder to examine the block.

I puff my cheeks out, indignant. “I’m still learning,” I mutter, embarrassed, but the alcohol numbs the effect.

Gregory reaches for the block, turning it back over, and making a noise of understanding. “It says you can’t speak a word for the next hour,” Gregory says, and blows a stray piece of hair from his face. “Well that’s far too easy for you. You’re as quiet as a church mouse.”

“Draw another,” Sveta says, eyes glittering. They all turn to me with the same expression as Sveta chants, “Do it, do it!” And as the rest join in, I laugh.

Their joy is infectious. I know I need to stand my ground in this world, but this feels like an exception. I’m among friends, I realize, and friends aren’t something I’ve had in years. I want them to like me, I want to gain their approval, to be part of the group even though I don’t live with them. Even Josefina is wearing a smirk as they all lean in. I draw a second block and they all cheer, and it’s hard not to smile at their energy.

This block is much easier to read: Take a shot. “What’s a shot?”

“It’s a swig of pure alcohol,” Kimiko says.

“That…sounds horrible,” I say, and the others laugh as if I’ve made a joke.

“It is,” Kimiko says, nodding. “That’s why you gotta drink it fast.”

Emile holds up two large bottles, both nearly empty save for a few fingers of clear liquid in the bottom. “Tequila or vodka?”

My head is already pleasantly swimming from the drink Gregory made me, and my words come out before I have a chance to think, “Whichever will get me drunk faster.”

This isn't like me, I usually think before I speak. Should I be worried about what they may get me to do if I become too drunk? My gut tells me 'no' but my gut is also requesting more alcohol, so I'm not sure how trustworthy it is at the moment.

“Tequila, definitely,” Emile says, handing me the bottle in his right hand. It smells foul when I bring it to my nose, and I wonder if the other one would’ve been any better.

"Oo-- wait!" Gregory bounces up and jumps into the kitchen, and comes back with a sliver of lime and the table salt. "Do it this way, makes it easier to swallow."

Sveta snickers behind her hand and Gregory flips her off before showing me the process. Salt on the hand first, then tequila, then bite down on the lime. At first glance it seems like a lot, but I manage to do everything in the right order. The tequila tastes foul, but it warms my belly as it goes down.

The game continues for another hour, another round of drinks and even more shots. There’s laughter and gossip and chatter all around, and it’s easy to fall back and let it take me wherever it needs to go. I’m giddy, I feel lighter than air, I want to spread myself over the couch and take a nap.

Eventually, the game is abandoned in favor of conversation. They’re not confined to a single place like I am, lucky bastards. They can go to and from the market, learn magic on their own time, and even meet up with other fae without worrying about a hulking guardian in their shadow.

Their looks are deceiving as well. Sveta is nearly three times my age, and Gregory claims he was brought here nearly forty years ago.

I originally came here for a break, but maybe they have answers for me. I wait for a lull in conversation before asking, “Do you all know anything about Aure— the forest god?”

“Only that he’s terrifying,” Gregory says, laughing. “But he’s very important. Oversees the forests everywhere.”

I scoot forward. “Has he ever brought another human here?”

Gregory squints. “I dunno. Sveta you’ve been here the longest, has he ever brought a human back?”

Sveta’s head falls heavily to the side as she purses her lips. “Not that I remember.”

Kimiko mutters behind me, “He probably ate them.”

Gregory balks. “Kimi! That’s not nice.”

“What? We’re all thinking it! He’s the most powerful god this side of the world, and he picks a single human to shack up with? Of course there was one before, there’s probably hundreds he brought back! They probably realized how horrifying he is and tried to take off, and he ate them!”

The others laugh, but Emile hums in thought. “That sounds awfully sad,” he says. “To seek out companionship in another only to have them leave.”

Emile has been almost as quiet as I’ve been this evening. Not brooding, but observing. I get the feeling he’s very studious, maybe he could help me learn to read.

“That’s on him, though,” Josefina says. “That’s not the humans’ problem.”

“How do you get rid of something ingrained into your very being, though?”

Kimiko kicks her feet onto the table, brushing several blocks to the floor. “Don’t know, don’t care. Do you wanna live with him?”

“No, but I know someone who already does,” he says, nodding his head towards me.

I move to rub my arm, but overshoot and my hand winds up wrapping around the side and back. "I don't think he's all bad. Kind of pushy, but not cruel."

"Interesting," Kimiko says, leaning forward. "Tell us more.”

My face is already flushed from the alcohol, but I feel it growing steadily worse the longer the group looks at me, and that urge to please them comes back. I tell them what I can, about the house with its winding halls and nonsense layout. I tell them how Aurelius leaves me alone most of the day, of the animals I tend to and the library where I sleep. Telling them feels like unclogging a stream, the words flow forth and before I know it I’m speaking of our relationship— the woes we’ve been having recently.

I finish my tirade with a huge sigh, letting my chin fall into my hand. “How do I make him listen?”

“How have you gotten his attention in the past?”

I flush as I remember. “Sex, usually.”

“Then do that!”

“Isn’t that…not right?”

She scoffs. “You’re a woman! You have to use what the gods gave you. Besides, you’re not dealing with a regular human, or even a standard fair folk. You’re bargaining with a god.”

I mull over her words for far too long, and GRegory claps me over the shoulder. “Kimi’s right, you’ve got to use what you’re given.”

I hum, thinking it over. It doesn’t sit easy in my stomach, but it’s the only thing I haven’t tried yet, the only thing left. I don’t want to manipulate Aurelius through this, but what other choice has he given me?

Sveta’s eyes glitter as she says, “Let us know how it works out.”

***

The walk back and a skein of water clears my head enough for me to walk up the stairs and navigate the halls back to the library. It's still difficult; the sun has long since gone down and I've never navigated the path in the dark before, let alone walking it backwards and slightly inebriated. But I make it back, carefully stepping around a each book I’d tossed aside.

We haven’t spoken since he confessed his love for me. Would he be suspicious of my actions? Pick up on the deception? Even thinking of deceiving Aurelius through such a manner makes my mouth sour. I tip the remaining water into my mouth and swallow as I think.

He’s not listened to me in a way that matters, not since we came here. I want him to hear me, to see me as more than a pet or trinket to be toted around. I’m not a handbag, and he needs to see things my way. If the only way is to train his attention on something else while I get what I need, then so be it.

And I’m pretty enough to pull this off! My hair is clean and my skin unblemished, my frame isn’t too manish from chores or my nails dirty. I’m decent at sex, I suppose I could be better, more confident in my abilities. The show I’d put on for Aurelius at the altar had been a good start, but what else is there?

The world tilts as I swing my legs over the sill and stand far too fast, but I have my wits about me in a moment’s time. I can do this, I can.

The door to Aurelius’ room is heavier than I remember, but I may be weaker at the moment. Still, it slides open without a sound and I step into the warm air of his quarters.

I whisper to the room, “Aurelius?”

No response. Listening, I hear the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. Perfect.

As I crawl into the nest and around Aurelius' huge sleeping animal body, he rouses awake.

“Kyla…?” He says, voice low, lifting his head to look at me. He stills, taking in my nudity. “Are you hurt?”

He surges forward, inky arms coming from his form to pat me down. They're warm from sleep, warmer than usual, soft and attentive in their motions.

“I’m fine, I’m fine! I just…” I trail off, shifting my weight from foot to foot. No, this won't do. Confidence. If I want something, I have to take it. I grab one of the hands that was patting me down and hold it to my breast.

Aurelius pauses, parsing my meaning, and a low, pleased growl making me and the whole nest shiver. Without another word, shadowy tendrils pick me up off the ground, holding my wrists together and my legs apart. I kick and thrash with what little movement I'm allowed as Aurelius grabs one of my feet and presses my knee to my chest. “Wait!”

He stops immediately, hovering over me in that massive, animalistic form. “Is this not part of the game?”

I shake my head, deciding to unpack that comment later, and give him my best pout. “I want to play a different game. Would you lie back for me?”

He stares at me for a long moment, before releasing me from his grasp and setting me down on the floor. “As you wish,” he says quietly. His form shrinks to the one I’m familiar with, the shadowy cloak falling away to reveal the rest of his body. Still like a man’s body, with long limbs and dark skin that blends into the shadows and shimmers out of focus the longer I look at it. His skin is rough like cloth, and the muscle underneath flexes as he moves.

“You weren’t here today,” he says, keeping his gaze on me as I throw my dress over my head. It lands in a far corner of the nest, where I can get to it later.

"I was with friends," I reply quietly.

"The humans," he growls, and I nod. "You're supposed to stay here."

"I’m not doing that," I say, surprising myself with how firm my voice is.

Aurelius doesn't ask me anything further after that. He remains reclined like I asked, but I see his hands flexing against the floor as I step forward and spread my fingers over his belly.

“Why don’t you show me this more?” I ask as I run my hand up his stomach. I’m so preoccupied with seeing him— truly seeing him since that first time— that I nearly miss how his breath hitches at my touch. My heart skips over itself in nervousness. This is going to be easy.

“What is this new game?” He asks instead, long hands wrapping around my wrist and pulling me forward. My hand glides up over his ribs, past his chest to land on his shoulder.

“It’s called, uh, bartering,” I say.

Aurelius stares at me, and says flatly, “I know what bartering is.”

I grin, showing my teeth. “Wonderful! Then you already know how to play.”

I swing my leg over his hips and smooth my hands up his chest. I can't lose myself to him this time, I need my wits about me if I want this to go the way I need it to. The notion of what I’m about to do as some sort of transaction has that sour feeling returning, but I push it back. As much as I don’t like it, this is how we fit together, there isn’t an alternative.

My heart lurches again-- even when I’m just sitting on him, I can already feel him hardening against my ass.

"I give you something," I say, reaching behind my back and blindly feeling until my hand wraps around his cock. "You give me something back."

Aurelius doesn't immediately respond, and even props himself up on his arms like he means to throw me off. Instead, he leans forward, reaching out a hand as if to cup my face. But he stops at the last moment, so close I can feel the heat of his skin, and pulls his hand back and lowers himself to the floor.

"Alright," he mumbles, almost too low for me to hear, and he sounds sad. I need to fix that.

I throw my leg back over his hips so I'm kneeling at his side, and I grasp his half-hard cock with both hands. My fingers don't meet at the widest part and even with stacked fists the head of him breaches my fingers. He's still as big as I remember him.

He hardens fully at my touch, and I'm flattered that he still feels this way, I was so sure I'd ruined myself for him. I want to meet his starry eyes, but I can't bring myself to do it. It's too much, but I have to push forward.

I shift my hand down so I can lick over the tip, tonguing the sensitive underside as I gently squeeze my hands. He tastes of iron, sharp and subtle, and smells like the forest. I take the head of him into my mouth and he gasps, the hand closest to me resting on the back of my head, brushing my hair away from my face, and I want him to leave it there, to guide me because I have no idea what I’m doing, but that’s not part of this game.

I pull off with a wet noise, spit lewdly trailing from my lips to his cock, and I frown up at him. “No, hands down.”

Immediately, his hand disentangles from my hair, and I do want the warmth back, but I can focus better like this. The branching antlers at the back of his head have his head set at an odd angle, but even with his snout pointed towards the ceiling, I can feel his gaze on me, watching.

I swallow hard. His gaze is intense, it makes me want to perform well. Like when he watched me strip, I want to please him, I want to surprise him somehow.

I squeeze my thighs together as I lean forward and take his cock into my mouth again, releasing my top hand so I can take it further down. The lowest I can go without gagging is only halfway, so I move my hands in time with my head to make up the difference.

At the contact, Aurelius chokes a noise, shifting his hips again as I bob my head at a slow, steady pace.

I learn quickly that he enjoys certain things: attention on the head, and a forceful pace over a faster one. I have no idea if this is working, or if I’m even doing this right, but I follow the sounds he makes, the noises he swallows down.

The only time I ever heard about this sort of fucking was gossip with the ladies of town. They spoke of how unpleasant it was, how their husbands always wanted it. But I don’t find this unpleasant. I only have to worry about the growing arousal between my legs which is easy to ignore, leaving me able to focus on Aurelius. His hips twitch when I squeeze my hands, his claws are pulling up that layer of down on the floor, and his breathing is almost in time with my movements.

This is a heady feeling, I realize as I twist my hands and run my tongue over his head again, tasting salt and heat. Aurelius gasps beneath me, and another bead of precome blooms over my tongue. I wait for another, when his breathing turns ragged and his legs begin to shake, to pull away with an obscene sound.

He groans to the ceiling, and his cock twitches in my hands. He turns his head down to me fully, and huffs a breath through his nose.

"Why did you stop?"

My smile is easy, and my heart is racing. "I need something from you."

"Kyla…" he warns, his voice a low growl. I frown, but I'm frowning at myself. I must not have done well enough.

I sit up and straddle his hips, lifting myself onto my knees and positioning the glistening head of his cock at my entrance. The position forces me to settle the rest of my weight on my free hand, which I place directly over his heart. "Please?" I ask, pouting.

Before he can respond, I sink my hips down. It's not without pain, but I can push it to the back of my mind for now. The moment I settle my weight on his hips, Aurelius moans outright, something I haven't heard before.

While I adjust, my hazy mind grinds away. I can't ask about the other human right out of the gate, I'll need a smaller favor so this doesn't backfire. I rest my other hand next to the first, and I feel his heartbeat like a bird underneath my fingers.

"I want more magic."

Aurelius rests his hands on my waist. "Of course."

"Hands down," I order, and he starts like he's been shocked. His hands hover over my legs for a breath, before he sets them back on the ground, palms against the floor. I shiver at the rush of power that moves through me. I grind my hips forward and back, chasing my own pleasure on that rush, disregarding why I started this and instead finding something else.

Oh, how I've missed this. The few times we've had sex since I've been here have been so…emotionally charged, like electricity beneath my fingers, here one moment and gone the next. But this, this is heat under my skin, the sun against my face, a spiraling pool of pleasure where I don't have to worry about any negative emotions. It's like the first time.

"Gods, this feels good," I moan, and Aurelius bucks beneath me.

Slowly I gain my faculties, slowing my hips and eventually stopping. “Will you teach me more magic?”

He groans, a fist thumping against the floor. “When I have the time.”

I roll my hips once and he twitches like I've hit him. “That’s not an answer.”

He exhales, and I feel the strain in his muscles as he remains still. "Whatever you want."

I grind my hips slowly. "I want more magic."

"Of course."

I reward him with an agonizingly slow pace, and I have to hold back a laugh as he shudders beneath me. His hips are moving with mine, little thrusts he can't control that shove his cock that much deeper into me. It pushes the air from my lungs, and spurs me on. "Are you going to give it to me?"

"Yes," he breathes. "Yes, I will."

This is dangerous. I feel powerful, untouchable. I could ask him for anything-- no, I could command him to do anything, and he'd be at my mercy. This all-powerful god is like wet clay in my hands.

But then, like a clap of lightning, I remember that he's lied to me, that he's toted me around like an object, treated me like an afterthought. I remember why I'm doing this, and all the heat under my skin, all the arousal and feeling of power, pops. My stomach churns as I realize I can't bring myself to finish this.

I stop all movement, slipping forward and off his cock, and he whines. "Kyla…"

"Will you—“

“Now,” Aurelius growls.

Despite the ice in my veins, the nest is getting warmer by the second, and I'm not sure how much longer he's going to last. It's now or never. “Was there another human before me?”

The very air freezes with the next thump of my heart.

“Where did you get that idea?” he says slowly, and I want to slam my hands on his chest. The fair folk won’t lie, but that doesn't mean they aren't capable.

“Tell me and I’ll let you come,” I say, pushing my hips back until I feel the hard length of him pressing against my ass. I'm losing control of the situation fast. I need answers.

Aurelius growls, and there’s a timbre to it, pitched low and dangerous. He used this on Gregory when he took me away from the market, and again when he brought me back. He’s angry. Not the fun, teasing anger that arouses me, but the hard, volatile anger of an ancient god with an ego.

“Who told you?” he asks, voice quiet and dangerous, which only sparks my anger brighter.

“You lied to me,” I press, leaning forward and bracing my hands on his chest. “So what happened?” And when Aurelius doesn’t reply, my anger comes out full force. “Did you eat them? Kill them? Tell me!"

Aurelius sits up in a flash, and I tumble to the side of the nest. As I fumble to my hands and knees, angry tears prick at my eyes. "What else are you keeping from me? What else have you lied about?!" I stand on shaking legs and wipe the tears as they fall.

Aurelius rights himself, sitting, and crosses his arms over his chest. "It was for your protection."

"It's for your protection!"

"Don't be ridicu-- Kyla!" He tries to stop me as I snatch my dress and storm out as fast as my legs will allow me. I take the barest of moments to pull the dress over my head before I'm fleeing Dachaigh and headed towards the Forest of Souls.

I can't do this anymore. I don't want to be here. And I know of a place where he'll never find me again.

I don't have any books, any extra clothes, I don't even have food or water, but I don't care. Anything is better than staying here for another minute.

I'm several dozen steps towards the forest when I pause to catch my breath. I ran all the way through Dachaigh to get out, and I ran until I was under moonlight and then some more. I'm nearly to the treeline, that soft lilting melody calling to me again, when I look back.

Dachaigh still towers up to the heavens, an obelisk in the nighttime air, as if she's swallowing the sky itself.

With space to think now, I'm hit with a pang of melancholy. I can't consider this place home, but living within those walls has been comfortable. Dachaigh is a good friend, and when Aurelius was there I enjoyed his company. It wasn't enough, but what little I did get, I treasured. The animals will miss me, I think, and I'll miss the routine. Mortimer may wonder where I've gone, and I wonder how long it will take him to realize that I'm not coming back. I won't be able to see Gregory, or Sveta, or Kimiko. I'll even miss Josefina's tilted smirks.

I turn back to the forest, and run straight into a solid shadow.

“Where are you going?” Aurelius asks, arms crossed over his chest. He's pulled himself to his full height, towering over me and blocking my line of sight to the forest. He's wearing the traveling cloak he always does, although it's askew over his shoulders as if he rushed to put it on. I stumble back, if only to allow myself space to breathe.

“I…I…”

He tilts his head like a bird, this way and that, getting a better look at me, and says again, angrily, “I ask again: Where are you going?”

I straighten, solid in my confidence. “I’m leaving.”

“You can’t,” he says simply.

I scoff. “And why not?”

“I will find you.”

“Not if I want to be lost!”

He growls, the sound reminding me of a predator. “I will not let you.”

“Like hell you will!” I push past him, making a wide arc and trying to run again.

I’m only a handful of steps past Aurelius when his large arm wraps over my waist and yanks me back. He pulls me into his body, his head above me, and he laughs. It's a chilling sound, his great jaw opening and his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “You think you can escape me? I’ve already marked you as mine.”

I struggle against his grip the same way an insect struggles against a spider's web. “I don’t want it! I want to leave!” I push myself out of his grasp and the second I hit the ground, I start to run.

“Kyla!” He shouts, but I keep running. Almost there, almost there! “You will listen to me!”

“I’m done!” I shout back, and it hurts, oh it hurts so much to say. I’m leaving both Aurelius and my heart on the ground in front of his home. "I'm done with the whims of a single forest god!"

He catches up easily, and I'm back to struggling against his grip again. His growl shakes the trees, rumbles the very ground I'm standing on. “I am the god of every forest.”

“You do not have domain over me!” I struggle in his vice-like grip, tears streaming down my face. I was so close, so close. “Get the fuck off—I hate you!”

Aurelius pauses, and I know I hit a nerve. I didn't mean it-- it just came out. I want to correct myself, but I struggle to find the point. It's what it took for Aurelius to let me go.

The grass is wet and cold beneath my bare feet as he gently sets me down. I gather my skirts in one hand-- it'll make my trek through the underbrush quicker.

"If you wish to leave," he starts, slowly releasing me from his grasp and angling me towards the wood.

The quick change in his demeanor throws me off course. I snap my head around to look at him, and I see that he's shrinking down, skull transforming from that sharp-toothed predator I saw at the market and into his normal deer.

"Then go," he snaps, jaw clicking shut.

I take a step forward. The forest is pitch black, I can't make out anything beyond the treeline. The energy wafting from it is dangerous, yet tempting. I could truly get lost in there. Alone for eternity.

Even still, I look back at Aurelius. He's sat on the ground, legs curled up, long arms wrapped around them. His great head rests on his knees, angled towards me, watching. Not like a predator about to pounce, but a creature resigned to its own pain. When he sits on the ground like this, only his antlers are taller than me.

I look back to the forest, and I hear her whispering call, a lullaby to lure me into the depths of this ancient, consuming wood. Closing my eyes, I sway to the soft tune, a melody that rolls over itself, transforming and rearranging. It wants me to play, wants me to join them.

The spell is broken, interrupted by a low whine, like an injured animal. It's coming from behind me, and I suck in a breath as I turn just far enough to see Aurelius out of the corner of my eye. He's still sitting on the ground, watching me, and I'm hit with a realization.

I don't want to leave him, not forever. I want to get away from this harmful, sticky relationship that we're in. One where I have to get him mad to make him listen to me. Where he doesn't take me seriously until I threaten to harm myself.

Without a word, I close the distance between us. He remains still, even when I grab his great skull with both hands. His voice is barely audible, "I will miss you terribly."

And heaving a sigh, his form melts into the ground, along with it his skull, which shrinks down. He's making himself small for my benefit again.

This is the Aurelius I want to talk to. The understanding, calm one, as opposed to the volatile, angry god I've been interacting with.

I sigh through my nose, and avoid the urge to sit with him, standing my ground. I haven't fully decided to stay, not yet. "What happened to the other humans you brought here, Aurelius?"

Sensing my hesitation, Aurelius leans into my touch, but I'm not ready for that yet, so I pull away and let my hands rest at my side. I need the truth, even if it's just to know why.

"There was only one before you," he says. "It was just as I've said: he ran in fear. I lost him in the woods." Again, he tries to knock my arm with his head in his form of intimacy, but I twist away from it. He rears his head up in offense, but when I make no moves to reciprocate, he rests his chin back over his knees.

"You lied to me," I say.

"I did."

"Why?"

It’s a long, quiet moment before he answers slowly, "I did not want the cycle of time to roll over again. I asked him the same that I asked you, and he said yes. So, I brought him here. "

His head tilts the other way, resting on his folded arms. "And he hated it here, as you do. He hated our home, hated this place. Recoiled at my touch and refused to speak to me. And then one morning, he was gone." He shifts uncomfortably. "But you called me beautiful, and I thought this time would be different. I knew once I had you that I'd never find another. So I did everything with you that I didn’t with him. I gave you space, let you be. I was just happy to have our home filled with life again."

I look back to the woods as I turn his words over in my head. The temptation to leave has weakened, but I can still feel it. Eodine's words float back to me: No one would ever bother you anymore.

And that doesn't sound bad. Peaceful, even. But would I enjoy that life? Is that the way I want to live? I'd be alone, forever. I'd never see another human, or even another soul, for that matter, and I don't want to take a path like that. Could I live without companionship for eternity? I was willing to give up my entire life for this god to stay by my side.

I sigh, to myself and the world around me. No matter what path I take, a path away from Aurelius would be…lacking. I'd miss him terribly, just as he'd miss me.

I run my thumb along a line of silver in Aurelius' antlers, the shape closer to the branch of a tree than any kind of animal. He's shown me so little of himself, but I haven't shown him much of myself either. If we have the rest of eternity together, I'd like the chance to know him better, and let him know me.

"Aurelius…" I say, sighing. "I'm not afraid of you. But you treat me like an object. I'm not a pet."

“I taught you magic,” he says. “I involved you in the festival planning and brought you gifts. I wouldn’t do that for a pet.”

I sigh, pushing a lock of hair from my face. "I sleep alone, I eat alone, and I live my life in that library, alone. When we're actually together it feels like you're a ghost. You cart me around like a child and treat me like—" I stop myself, my air coming out in a rush. "You asked me to plan your festival and then discounted all of my notes."

"But it is tradition to lay the vendors a certain way," he says, tone soft and conversational.

I roll my eyes. "Is it tradition to bring a human into your home?"

He pauses, which tells me that he hadn’t considered it. "I suppose not," he says.

He did remember that I wanted to learn magic, something I mentioned nearly a month ago; he chased after me thinking I had been stolen, and put a tracking spell on me so he’d never lose me again. He thinks he loves me, and whatever that may mean truly, to him it's something important.

He sighs, mimicking me with a dramatic heave of his shoulders. "Much of the time, I am a stone in the river, pushing everything around me and unable to change my own path. I was trying to give you space so you would want to remain here, so you weren't afraid."

That makes sense, in a strange, Aurelius-esque way. It’s almost sweet, him realizing that his presence frightens others and taking steps to minimize it. I rest my hands over top one of his, and he turns his palm sideways to curl his fingers around mine.

"You left me alone," I mutter. “You know I don’t like that.”

"You weren't alone."

I try not to roll my eyes or smile. He said it so genuinely. "Dachaigh isn't you."

He speaks slowly, as if in realization, "You…prefer me."

He sounds so surprised that I can't help but laugh. “I do.”

“You want to be with me.”

I snort. "All the power you wield, and you couldn’t piece together that I enjoy your company."

"You want to eat meals with me."

"I do."

"You want to sleep with--" I cover his snout with my hands, laughing.

"Yes, yes, you big dummy! I like being around you, except when you're being rude and pushy. I like this world you've brought me to, and the home you’ve opened up to me. I like--" I stop and bite my tongue before I say something lewd.

But the stars in his eyes sparkle as he asks, "Yes?"

And I'm very bad at denying him. "I like getting you so angry that you fuck me within an inch of my life."

He chuffs. "There are other ways to get me to fuck you."

"But," I flush, looking resolutely at his bony snout and not his eyes. "I enjoy that way."

He hums, low and approving. "Because you are mine."

"Yes," I say softly, enjoying the word on my tongue. "At least, I want to be."

"Then you are," he says, leaning forward to knock my head with his, but he stop halfway, waiting for me. I reach out my arms and pull him forward, closing the gap. My temple gently taps the side of his head, and warmth curls in my chest at the contact.

"This is called a truce. I'm giving you another chance." Even saying it has me feeling lighter. I have confidence in Aurelius, I know he can do better. I've seen it.

He hums. “How am I to repay you?"

I let my head fall against his chest, and I can feel his heartbeat in my ear, quick yet strong. "Not everything is a debt to be paid."

"It is here." His voice vibrates through his chest.

"Not between us." Not anymore. I feel the very spark of my being, maybe it's my soul, release all the tension I'd been holding for the past month as I relax into Aurelius.

The pull of the forest, that steady, whispering voice that promised me a life of solitude, is gone.

Chapter 9>>

#my writing #sacrifice #nsfw.#monster writing #monsterfucker #monster boyfriend #monster lover #terato writing #skullhead #I think that's the most widely accepted moniker outside of the 'w' word which i refuse to use

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1kook · 4 years

Text

card swiped (2)

→ jeon jungkook x (f) reader

→ How was he, a virgin, supposed to casually take his best friend’s virginity when he was so terribly, irrevocably smitten with said best friend? GENRE eventual smut, minor angst WARNINGS mentions of porn, mentions of sex, mentions of dicks, just jk having dumb thoughts tbh OTHER volleyball player jk, student council pres oc, childhood friends to lovers, besties to lovers, realization of crushes, there is one (1) cheek kiss 😐 RATING m (18+) WC 1.3k

NOTES (!) i did a follow up!!! this is rlly easy bc its like. dumb. the storyline is p simple so its become therapeutic 😐 anywayyy lemme know what u think !!

[ masterlist ]

The first step to initiating sex is a kiss— right?

Jungkook doesn’t even know anymore. All the porns he’s seen start at weird points in the progression, the first kiss somewhere between when the clothing comes off and when the penis holder shoves their cock in. Did he kiss you now, or was he supposed to wait?

That is, can Jungkook even muster the balls to kiss you?

He doesn’t know, and when he sits up in front of you, knees against yours, does he come to a new shocking realization: the two of you have never kissed. For as long as Jungkook has known you, there has never been a kiss shared between you two. Not a single experimental phase, surprise mistletoe, not even a dare. Jungkook and you have never kissed, so it only makes sense that the idea of kissing right now has him pausing before he can even try.

“Uh,” he says, all his years of grammar classes running down the drain when you sit up perkily, a gleam of excitement in your eye. “Tomorrow,” Jungkook chokes out, hurriedly bouncing off your bed before you can even process his words.

By the time you’ve gotten up, he’s standing at the door with his bag slung over one shoulder, foot shoved into his shoe. “You’re leaving?” you ask, and scare the living daylights out of Jungkook when you suddenly reach for the sleeve of his shirt, successfully halting his hasty departure with one gentle tug alone.

Jungkook’s face feels like it’ll burn up at this rate, and his brain screams at him to stop being so weird. You were his best friend, for goodness sake, something like this was bound to happen at some point or another. Right? His heart thunders in his chest, and when your eyes soften for the briefest moment, warm and familiar again, Jungkook relaxes.

“I have practice,” he says casually, tugging the strap of his bag further over his shoulder. Inside, his shoes are shuffled around with his water bottle and practice clothes. “We need more than an hour to do that kind of stuff,” he jokes, but Jungkook isn’t even sure if what he’s saying is true. When that girl had jacked him off at that party—you know, the party—he can’t remember it lasting more than fifteen minutes. To be fair, it had been the first time someone had ever touched him, so maybe it was just because of his inexperience.

And that brings him back to the same dilemma: how on earth is he supposed to rock your world when he’s never even had sex before?

Before Jungkook can dissolve into a self-induced puddle of panic, you’re letting him go. “Okay,” you say, always so sweet and understanding. You had to be if you were the president of the whatever-council (he’s pretty sure it’s the student council). It should be Jungkook who is this composed, not you. It should be Jungkook who leans forward, presses his lips against your cheek— not you!

But as it stands, it is you who leans forward, soft lips pressed flush against his cheek, only an inch away from his lips. Your proximity has the overwhelming scent of, well, you fanning over him; fabric softener, lotion, perfume, all of it. “Oh,” Jungkook says, sounding like a total dweeb. The departure of your lips from his skin produces a soft smooching sound, straight from the movies, and Jungkook’s heart lodges itself into his throat when you meet his gaze with a sweet smile.

And then the door is falling shut and Jungkook is bolting down the hallway, through the campus, and into the gym. He looks and feels insane, the emptiness of the gymnasium a blatant reminder that he was in fact a little too early. Serves him right for chickening out. But a second longer in your presence and he’s almost certain he would have died from heart complications.

It’s only when he stares out over the gymnasium floor, devoid of any human life, that the gravity of his actions truly hit him. And they hit him hard. Like a city bus skidding across an icy road towards an intersection, Jungkook is suddenly hit full force with the stark realization that he has just prepositioned his friend of nearly fifteen years for sex. While being a virgin.

“God,” he groans, throwing his bag against the nearest wall. It hits it with a dull thud, sliding down to the floor sadly. Jungkook follows.

It would be nice to have some common sense every once in a while, to actually use the brain lodged up in his head. Why on earth had he thought offering himself up for sex to you, of all people, would be something easy? Sure, Jungkook as a virgin had some expectations of what sex would be like; deep down inside, he’s always known it won’t be exactly like in porn, there would be some disappointing things and some absolutely amazing things. But those were his own expectations to bear, the end results something that personally wouldn’t weigh down on him too much.

But now… now Jungkook will have to come face to face with your expectations, that of which he absolutely can’t let down. What if you think his dick is small? What if cums too soon? What if you can’t get turned on by him? What if, at the end of it all, you don’t want to be Jungkook’s friend anymore?

The last thought has him sullenly sinking down further against the wall, chin pressed to his chest, as he mulls over any potential options. It would be weird (at least in Jungkook’s mind) to call it off now, especially after seeing how excited you’d gotten. As your best friend, Jungkook lived by an unspoken, strict code of conduct, that of which dictated that promises between best friends were not meant to be broken. It was the highest offense.

But how was Jungkook supposed to rock your virgin world if he was a virgin?

Faintly, he can still feel your puckered lips pressed against his cheek, and he mindlessly raises a hand up to brush his fingers against the skin. It makes him blush, remembering that sweet gaze you’d looked at him with. It’s the same one you used to give him when you were younger, the slightly proud, really content gaze whenever he did his homework before coming over, when he won a game against your rival middle school, when he first walked into a Victoria’s Secret with you when you were both sixteen. “You’re doing amazing, Koo,” you always teased and giggled, the sound gradually mellowing out over the years.

Just a couple weeks ago he remembers hearing the sound from the bottom of a ladder, dragged into decorating the student center with you for the new school year straight out of practice. He had been tired, so absolutely drained from the drills that day, but it was impossible to say no when you had caught him across the student center, eyes lighting up at the mere sight of Jungkook’s sweaty form.

“I’m running for student president this year,” you had told him (so it was the student council), the tall windows that lined the building’s walls allowing a ray of sunlight to settle down over you. It had made Jungkook halt for a second, heartbeat skipping one dangerous beat when you descended down, placed a hand on his shoulder the closer you got. “Vote for me, please?”

“Yeah,” he had breathed, felt like the entire world was too small to fit the growing feeling in his chest.

And it’s with that memory that Jungkook reaches his third and final realization of the afternoon, an accumulation of all the prior ones: how was he, a virgin, supposed to casually take his best friend’s virginity when he was so terribly, irrevocably smitten with said best friend?

“Oh… fuck,” he groans, slumping down until he’s practically sprawled over the floor, startling Namjoon and Jimin as they enter the gymnasium. Jimin scolds him for scaring them, but Jungkook is so deep in his wallowing that he barely hears.

He was in trouble.

#jungkook smut #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #jeon jungkook smut #jjk fic #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jjk x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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tteokdoroki · 4 years

Note

hello! if you’re still doing these could i please request 7 with Bakugou?

if you’re not taking them pls delete !! 💕

katsuki bakugou x gn!reader.

tteokdoroki teaparty event masterpost!!

♡ prompt #7 — reader has a secret admirer, character of choice doesn’t know how to confess.

♡ genre: everyone, fluff + slight angst.

♡ word count: 1.8K

♡ warnings: cursiing!

♡ author’s notes: thank you for requestiing my lovely !!

yet again, warmth spreads underneath your skin and across your chest at the sight of the chocolates displayed cutely across your desk. for the last week or so, you’d received a flurry of gifts from an unknown admirer— each attached to a sweet note, written with such deep feelings that every time you read one your heart thumped loudly in your chest.

“let me guess, another one?” mina swoons from your right, joining you in the empty classroom for the day ahead. pink hair tickles at the junction between your head and your shoulder as she reaches for the box of sweets in your grip— you don’t bother putting up a fight, knowing she’d take it from you anyway. “that’s like the third time this week, yn.”

bowing your head shyly, you run your fingers over the small note that lays unfolded on your desk. ‘for you, i’d do anything.’ it reads and you wonder for the umpteenth time; you out of all of classmates is capable of writing such a thing. “i know, i really wish i knew who’s sending them— no ones ever quite done something like this for me before.” you voice is quiet and hopeful, a contrast to the bustling energetic babbles that come from your third year classmates as they filter in for the day ahead. you scan them all to look for a possible source, knowing that your heart could belong to anyone of them.

“it’s gotta be deku!” kaminari cuts through your train of thought like a knife through butter— throwing his arm around your shoulders as he plucks the box of chocolates from mina’s grip, much to her annoyance. “he’s like the sweetest dude in the class, there’s no way it could be anyone else. we’re not capable of cute shit like that.” you roll your eyes and allow your friend to tear open the box for a morning treat but let your gaze slip over to where izuku chats animatedly with ochako. not him.

jirou is next to speak, ripping the box from the blonde to take it to her desk beside yours. kaminari whines as the girl divides up the sweet snacks for, taking one for both herself and mina. chaos is ensuing and yet again, your friends are the centre of it. “nah, my bet’s on sato...how else would yn be getting so many sweet treats every day?”

the group falls silent, mulling over the choice as you finally take a seat and swipe one of the chocolates for yourself. popping it into your mouth, you huff in frustration.

“doesn’t make sense, everything gifted to me so far has been insanely exclusive or expensive...some are even my favourites from abroad and— i don’t speak to sato enough for him to know them...“ you admit, pawing your cheeks with embarrassment.

“maybe it’s kirishima then! you guys are always together and he kinda seems like the romantic type..?” your pink haired friend suggests and the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. it was true, you were both always together— even if it was in the presence of others like bakugou and kaminari— and had more than enough in common, from music tastes to gaming. you could see the hardening hero as someone you’d go for as well, eijirou was an obvious choice. “what do you think, bakugou?”

you peek up from the note ( neatly folded ) and box of chocolates ( now returned ) that sit on your desk, catching the arrival of your final three friends. bakugou, sero and kirishima himself. you feel body flush with warmth as you catch the latter’s ruby eyed gaze and give him a small wave accompanied by a smile; that kirishima quickly returns.

the blonde however, tsks at mina’s question before making his way to his seat. you considered yourself and katsuki to be good friends; it was usually quiet whenever you too were around one another which was a nice change of pace from his usual rowdy personality— but the majority of your time with each other was spent with him teasing you for your quirk.

“‘m callin’ bullshit. whoever this is should hurry up and face how they feel. the candy shit is stupid.” bakugou growls out, throwing his backpack onto the desk; ready to begin class. in all three years of knowing him, he’d never showed any signs of romantic interest towards anyone in your class, especially you. meaning that your admirer, definitely bakugou.

you turn away from him and your group of friends to face the board, ignoring how they scold him for his harsh words. “right, stupid...” you sigh quietly, just as aizawa enters the room.

ever since your brief conversation with the explosive boy himself, bakugou had been increasingly rude to you throughout the day and it was starting to get on your last nerves. at first, it had been subtle— bumping you in the corridors between classes, pretending he didn’t have an extra pen for you when you knew that he carried spares for your friends who often forgot and then he’d straight up ignored your invitation to study during lunch like you usually did.

you figured that the blonde was having a bad day, bakugou was never usually this harsh to you and you could talk it out with him later. this behaviour was something you hadn’t seen from your friend since first year, and you almost believed that something else had been bothering him— until he almost blew you high into the sky during hero training that afternoon. of course you called him out on it, yelling at him in front of the entire class as your frustrations finally bubbled over but bakugou remained straight faced— leading to your current predicament.

aizawa thought it was best for the two of you to work things out over cleaning duties after school— something you thought you’d been well past seeing as you were third years now. mature, grown up third years who knew how to talk about their problems. apparently, katsuki bakugou was not one of them. even while you rearranged chairs and swept under desks, he still managed to crawl under your skin with petty remarks and hums of disapproval.

it’s only when you realised that katsuki had been actively trying to avoid your gaze or rather, your entire presence— that you snapped, dropping the broom you held in your hands and letting it clatter to the floor beside him, ultimately grabbing his attention.

“are you fucking insane—?”

“what the hell is your problem, bakugou?” you slice right through his words, a quiet rage flooding your bloodstream as you glare down at him. the boy himself looks dumbfounded, having never heard you talk to him in such away, before and stops shelving the books he had been holding. “did i do something to you?”

“like I’d let you do anythin’ to piss me off.”

god, he infuriates you. you step closer to the blonde, who stands at least half a head taller than you and shove at his chest as best you can— needing an outlet for your frustrations. “then why have you been acting like an asshole all day? first you blow me off and then you quite literally blow me up, and now? you’re avoiding me?” your fists curl in his untucked shirt, tugging at it as all of your emotions spill out into the space between you. “i don’t know what i did, but it doesn’t mean you get to treat your friend like shit, katsuki. you’ve been so mean to me today!”

bakugou looks away, avoiding your eyes that cloud with a sadness he can’t bare to face. you tell yourself not to cry, hating the way your bottom lip wobbles at his change in attitude. “’m mean to everyone, there’s nothin’ special about you.” he excuses himself, trying to step away from you.

“but not to me, you know that,” your voice shakes, everything you’d held back finally slipping through opened cracks. why was he treating you this way? what had you done to deserve this? you glance up, trying to find his vermillion eyes and the answers that may lie behind them. “you’ve been acting so...so off, since this morning, when mina asked about my admirer. you called it stupid. is it so hard to believe that someone, that kirishima might even like me?” the grip you had on bakugou’s shirt loosens but you remain leaning against him, neither of you daring to breathe. “why should i even care what you think? you’ve never been one for romance...u-unless you count the manga that you read but i don’t know how that would...”

and then your babbling stops, realisation washing over you in heavy waves. bakugou appears visibly tense before you, fist clenching and unclenching by his aides as you process your own train of thought. he hadn’t been mean to you for the sake of it, he had been because he didn’t know how else to express his feelings of jealously. it wasn’t kirishima that had been sending you notes, no— it had been bakugou all along. “how that would relate to me...” you think out loud, feeling him flinch beneath your grip. “k-katsuki...do you have a crush on me?”

“...don’t...” the blonde warns, heat rushing to his cheeks at your very accusation. a smile comes rushing to your cheeks, the familiar warmth finding its way back into your chest. “don’t look at me like that, fucker. i-i’m not good at this emotion shit, you know that and this was easier than talking— yn, stop fucking lookin’ at me like that.”

the almost whine that slips from between katsuki’s lips makes your tummy fill with affectionate butterflies, causing you to finally let go of his poor shirt and throw your arms around him in a tight hug. bakugou hesitates for a moment, trying to decode the situation and decide for himself if this was real— but you decide to do the talking and tell him foot yourself. “can’t help it, not when i feel the same way about you, katsuki.” you knew that no matter who was behind your little gifts and love notes, your heart would belong to your admirer and your admirer alone. with a rush of adrenaline after feeling katsuki return your embrace, you lean up to press a soft lingering kiss to his chapped lips.

he tastes like honey and smoke, feels warm like a soft summer breeze but as your lips love together and speak a thousand unspoken confessions, the pair of you realise that you never want the moment to end. “i meant what i said in that last note,” bakugou hums softly, pressing his forehead to yours and holding you close as if you’re going to disappear or suddenly realise your feelings for him aren’t true. “i’d do anything for you...”

“anything?” for the second time that day, you swoon at the blonde’s words and peck his nose gently.

he nods once, lost in thought before speaking again. “except for buy you those fucking chocolates again. they’re fucking expensive, cost a shitload.”

you snort at that, leaning up to lock lips him again— who needed chocolate when you could kiss katsuki bakugou instead.

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writersmorgue · 3 years

Text

Something Immortal

word count - 3k

warnings: suicide attempt, drug use, addiction, cursing, teenagers being gross

pairing: model!Todoroki x canon!Bakugo

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

"Holy shit guys he posted!!" Mina squeals, vaulting herself over the couch to reach the rest of the Bakusquad sitting on the common room carpet. An old original copy of Monopoly splayed out in the center of their group.

"Ooh, show us! Show us!" Kaminari leans forward, swiping half of the properties off the board in the process.

Sero groans, "Dude you do this every time!!"

The blond pouts, "Hey it's your fault I was losing."

Kirishima just chuckles, picking up his dog piece from jail and throwing it into the box.

"Your smart people game can wait," Mina tugs on Sero's ponytail, "He hasn't posted in weeks."

"Oh my god he's so fucking hot," Kaminari's knee-jerk reaction is whispered as soon as he sees the post.

Todoroki Shouto, one of Japan- and America's- most well-known models. The teenager, who happens to be their age, regularly models for magazines like Vogue, Joker, and Elle. The teenager who has starred in countless American and Japanese short and independent films. The teenager who just so happens to be the son of the number one hero, Endeavor.

No one knows his quirk, but it just adds to the mystery. Some people theorize he's quirkless, but others think he's got a crazy dangerous quirk, which is why he's a model instead of an aspiring hero. Not like he's not perfect for the job, with his gorgeous bi-colored hair and heterochromatic eyes. The scar on his left side somehow only adds to his beauty. It doesn't matter what your sexuality is, you simp for Todoroki Shouto.

But that's the obvious, now this photo- this photo.

"It's ethereal, I've never seen him look so serene before."

"He's an actual angel."

"How is he only eighteen?!"

Mina nods as Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima go through the seven stages of grief just looking at the photo.

Kirishima's eyes dart to Todoroki's username... which is just Shouto. In fact, the Todoroki name isn't mentioned once on his account, a fact that has hundreds of conspiracy theories on its own.

"Hey Meens, can we stalk him real quick? I wanna see who he's following."

She grins, "Well anything for you, munchkin."

Sero snorts. Their couple nicknames never fail to amuse anyone within hearing range.

"Ugh gross," Kaminari gags as Mina giggles, swiping off of the picture (which already has over 600,000) and onto his main page.

It's simple, plain yet elegant in the way only a PR manager could manage.

The bio is a link to his most recent shoot with some magazine that Kirishima doesn't recognize, the profile picture is a rare shot of him smiling, a blue checkmark, and a follower count of over four million.

His following count, however, is the shocker.

"He only follows fourteen people?" Sero whispers, clicking on the number.

"Huh," Mina turns the phone slightly so she can see, "Who is he following?"

"Let's see," Sero squints, eyes scrolling down the list, "Hawks... his siblings... Mirko... some American models... his agency's profile... and- wait, isn't that Bakugo?"

"HAH?" Mina yells, whipping the phone around and clicking on the profile.

Sure enough, a slew of photos shows up on her screen, all of their resident blond pomeranian glaring at the camera in various locations.

"He- WHAT?? It must be a glitch!" Mina scrambles frantically, eyes darting across the screen.

"Uh, yeah," Kirishima chuckles, "a glitch."

Mina scrolls up numerous times as if refreshing the page will help.

"I mean what other explanation can you think of?! It's not like Thee Todoroki Shouto would know our Bakugou, they're totally in different leagues." Mina sounds absolutely scandalized, causing Sero to laugh.

"I don't know, Meens, the proof is right there. We should ask him about it!"

"And what- DIE?" Kaminari reasons.

Sero nods, "Fair point."

"Pussies." Mina stands, planting her manicured hands on the edge of the couch, "I'll ask him myself."

"I REFUSE." A fourteen-year-old Shouto screams at his father.

"what do you mean you refuse? Shouto she's a lovely girl, and you need to procreate while you're still young if you're not going to become a hero like I want. You get one or the other." Todoroki Enji grabs his youngest child by the arm to lead him out of the kitchen, but Shouto jerks out of his grip. "Wh- SHOUTO."

"I'm going to live with Fuyumi. She'll take care of me." He holds his ground, shaking his father off when he tries once again to physically lead him out of the room.

"OH?" Enji bellows a laugh, "And how do you expect she'll find the money to take you in? Raising a teenager is expensive, you know, and she's only a simple school teacher."

"She's not a simple anything. And I- I'll find a way. We'll be fine. I already talked to several agencies."

"...agencies?"

"Wait, Mina!!" Kaminari calls after the girl, but she's a woman on a mission and there's no stopping her.

They arrive at Bakugo's door in a heap, Kaminari clawing at Mina while she knocks calmly. Kirishima and Sero stand to watch because they have no idea what else to do. (They're just as nervous as Kaminari but they're more afraid of Mina if they're being honest.)

A crash comes from inside the room, but soon their resident angry boy is slamming open his door and glaring at them. The normalcy is comforting.

"Do you fuckers realize what fucking time it is?"

"Yes~" Mina coos sweetly, "I know old men need their sleep but it's only 8:30 and we have a question."

He sighs aggressively and stretches his arms behind his back, cracking his shoulders and then his neck, Kaminari whimpers in fear.

"Alright, what do you want pinky?"

She's practically vibrating with excitement at this point.

"Why is Todoroki Shouto following you on Instagram?"

Bakugo seems to mull over this for a moment, and then he just shrugs.

Mina nods like this answers any part of her question, "That's what I thought, funny glitch. He's pretty hot though, right?"

The rest of the group nods emphatically.

Bakugo scratches his leg with his other heel, "He's not ugly, I guess."

Mina waves her arms around in Bakugo's general direction, "See!!? Even the straight guy agrees!!"

"No one was disagreeing with you, Mina." Sero snickers.

Bakugo grunts, then promptly slams the door in their faces.

"Well I guess that was more than he'd usually do at this time, we're lucky we didn't get exploded." Kirishima muses.

Kaminari nods, shuddering at the thought.

"Welp! That answers our question!" Although it really didn't, no one was about to argue with Mina, "Anyway I'm going to bed."

"Say hi to your vibe for me!" Sero whispers after her.

She waves as she marches away, humming to herself.

Shouto stares at the street below.

He wonders if he'd die falling from a height like this. He hopes he doesn't hit anyone.

Slowly, he removes his expensive sneakers, dropping them on the modelling agency's roof beside him. It's breezy tonight, and Shouto, freshly sixteen, has nothing to live for anymore. So he won't.

Stepping carefully over the guardrail, not sure why since he's about to jump. Maybe part of him is still afraid.

Whatever he can get over it.

His thin frame wobbles in the wind, and he breathes deeply, too focused on relaxing to notice the roof door opening, and hurried steps coming up behind him.

A warm hand grabs him, almost startling him off the side of the building.

The interruption heaves heavy breaths in his ear as they both topple down onto the concrete floor.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" Oh, it's Bakugo.

The only child of his manager, Mitsuki Bakugo, who happens to be a nosy little shit who can't stay out of other people's business.

"Get OFF" Shouto shoves him, frantically scrambling toward the railing again. He needs this.

"NO! Todoroki get the fuck back-"

"It's SHOUTO." blood spurts onto his gray sweater and he realizes with muted horror that he just elbowed his employer's son in the nose.

"Fuck I'm so sorry, are you okay?" He bends down, removing his trashed pullover, and holds it to his friend's nose.

Bakugo snorts, "Sorry- Shouto I mean." He winces when Shouto presses harder into his face, "I'll forgive you if you don't jump."

Shouto sighs, "You know why I was going to."

Bakugo visibly calms at the use of past tense, the outburst must have snapped him out of it.

"Your mom, right?" Shouto tenses.

"Yeah I- he barred me from ever seeing her again and I- I don't know what to do." He shudders and pulls his pills from his pants pocket.

He wonders what his mom would say if she found out her baby was addicted to drugs.

Bakugou frowns but lets his friend take the pill, not sure what to say.

"Fucking piece of shit. Is that even legal?"

"Legally the number two hero can do whatever the fuck he wants. We live in a flawed world, Bakugo.

"I- Shouto."

"Hmm?" Shouto collapses onto the ground, crunching the pill and sighing as he feels the effects start to take almost immediately.

"I care- I care about you, okay? So please let me help you. Let me get you help."

A tear slips down to Shouto's ear without his permission, he wipes it away as quickly as it came.

"I don't know, Bakugo. You haven't exactly seemed to like me in the past. Even though I like to think we're friends I know you don't feel the same." He frowns, admiring the shine of wetness on his palm in the moonlight.

Bakugo grumbles, "Don't fuckin' tell me what I do and don't feel. I really fuckin' care about you even though I'm an ass about it, okay? I'm not good with emotions so don't expect much from me. But I do want you to be happy and I don't think the uh- the pills are helping."

The blond holds out a hand and reluctantly Shouto slaps the container into it.

"Fine," he mumbles, "you're uh- not as bad as I thought."

Bakugo snorts, "You're just as bad as I thought, but I like you anyway."

Against his will, Shouto finds himself blushing, thankful that it's mostly hidden in the dark.

"C'mon," Bakugo gestures to his own chest, "I know you could use one."

Shouto whimpers as he curls himself into the blond's strong frame. He's built a lot of muscle since starting at UA this year.

A strong hand rubs along his back and Shouto finds he can't hold back his tears any longer as the shock starts to set in.

Fuck he almost just killed himself.

"Thanks, Bakugo."

"I almost just watched you die, you can call me Katsuki."

"Thanks, Katsuki."

"No problem, Shouto."

The Bakusquad once again finds themselves playing a game on the common room floor, this time Sorry, much to Sero's chagrin.

"Sorry!" Kirishima grins cheekily as he kicks Sero's piece back to his home base.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck you guys-" He groans, flopping back onto the loveseat behind him, only to get an eyeful of Bakugo Katsuki's ass, "Oh hey Bakugou!"

"Wh- OI TAPE FACE WATCH WHERE THE HELL YOU'RE LOOKING-"

Sero snickers, patting Bakugou on the hip, "Sorry dude, it was literally right there."

Small explosions popped from Bakugo's hands as he growled down at Sero.

"Aw come on blasty he's just playing and WHERE are you going dressed like that???!!!"

Bakugo blushes and tugs his light blue blazer down farther.

"I have a date." He mutters, tugging his sleeves.

“Sorry,” Kaminari laughs, “I think I misheard you. Sounded like you said ‘I have a date.’”

Bakugo rolls his eyes, “Because I do, dipshit.” He sighs, checking his -expensive-looking- watch, “Just watch the independent film awards when they’re on. I think it’s like four hours from now that it starts.”

“Whyyyy would you have anything to do with that?” Kirishima groans, very lost.

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo grunts, digging his phone out of his pocket when it vibrates and checking something before humming and striding towards the front door.

He looks unusually elegant, hair slicked back probably as well as Bakugo’s hair can be, shirt tucked in, a few rings on his fingers, barely visible and yet beautifully drawn eyeliner. He’s… pretty.

The three remaining members of the Bakusquad, as well as the rest of the common room, sit there in awe as he shoves a permission slip in Iida’s blubbering face.

“I- Wh- Bakugo is this from Aizawa? You cannot just leave!!”

“Fuck off glasses, I have his fuckin’ blessing or whatever.”

“Bakugo!”

The blond shoots a middle finger off behind him and slams the door shut, leaving a stunned common room in his wake.

“Uh, well, that happened.” Jirou drones blandly from her place on the couch with Momo.

“Awards show watch party, anyone?!” Uraraka grins, standing, “I’ll get the mochi!!”

“I’ll make tea,” Momo stands as well, dusting off her perfectly clean jeans. Jirou groans at the loss of her girlfriend’s warmth and flops over on the couch.

“This is stupid, he probably got invited by some pro hero and he’s just going to yell at the paparazzi if he’s even gonna be there.” She pouts.

“Well,” Sero grins, “anyone wanna play Monopoly while we wait?”

Kaminari throws the Sorry board at his head.

“Alright, is everyone ready!!? The red carpet is about to start!!” Hagakure squeals, even though the entirety of class 3-A (minus Bakugo) is there.

“So… what exactly are we watching this for?” Shinsou scratches the back of his neck.

“Bakugo’s going to be in it apparently, the study group earlier saw him in the common room wearing a suit.” Ojiro answers.

“Not just a suit!!” Mina holds her hands out as if to deliver groundbreaking news, “A fancy suit.”

“Aren’t all suits fancy?”

“Shut up.”

“OOH LOOK there’s Arai Itō and Chiba Yoshida!! Aww, they’re so cute!” Uraraka swoons, clasping her hands together.

“I wonder when Kacchan is gonna come out, these things can take a while.”

“I honestly don’t even care, I heard Todoroki Shouto is nominated for an award this year!! Do you remember that really sad short film he was in about having an overdose? Gosh, I hope he wins.” Hagakure’s hair bow vibrates excitedly.

“THERE HE IS THERE HE IS!!!!!” She points at the bottom of the screen where a man in a pale blue dress has stepped out of a limo and onto the carpet, a heeled foot gracefully raising him to his full 6’2”.

“Holy shit he’s gorgeous.” Sero breathes, the reporters on screen basically saying the same thing.

Shouto reaches behind him and holds out a hand for the second person stepping out of the limo, broad shoulders, a shorter stature than Shouto especially with the heels, spiky blond hair, piercing red eyes-

…

“HOLY SHIT IS THAT BAKUGOU??”

The aerial camera pans down toward the blond, showing off his suit- which matches Shouto’s dress perfectly- and his, what appears to be professionally done hair.

“Holy shit does he have an undercut now!!?? We just saw him a few hours ago!” Mina screeches.

Momo shrugs, “They do that sort of thing for celebrities.” She sips her tea, unphased.

“Okay okay, we’re all ignoring the most important part. Kacchan is Todoroki’s date.” Izuku frantically waves his arms around.

“I didn’t know they knew each other,” Tokoyami muses.

“What the fuck is happening?” Sero asks no one in particular.

“Wait everyone SHUT UP they’re announcing awards!!!! Todoroki might win one! We can ask Bakugo about this when he gets back. Surely there’s an interesting story.” Uraraka chimes in, handing out mochi and popcorn.

The tv’s voice is muffled under the muttering of several class 3-A members, but Mina turns it up as the male announcer reads the winners of the award Todoroki is nominated for.

“AAAAAAAAND THE WINNER FOR BEST ACTOR IN A DRAMA SHORT ISSSSSSSSS…

TODOROKI SHOUTO!!! For his work in The End of Me and the incredible performance that shocked-”

Cheers ring through the dorms, popcorn goes flying, and Mina frantically shushes everyone as Shouto makes his way gracefully onto the stage. He accepts the award from the previous winner, bowing elegantly and stepping up to the mic.

“Hello everyone,” He begins, shooting a shy smile directly into the camera. It has always perplexed his fans how nervous he can be in real life compared to in his photoshoots. “This is a really important award to me, not only am I incredibly grateful to the panel for gracing this title upon me, but as of yesterday,” He smiles at the ground, taking a deep breath, “I’m two years clean.”

Shocked gasps ricochet through the award hall as well as through the crowd gathered around the tv.

“He did drugs, kero?” Tsu whispers.

“Mon dieux,” Aoyama shakes his head, pressing a hand to his chest, “how brave.”

Shouto clears his breath and continues, “In fact, that wasn’t the worst of it at the time, and I’m incredibly grateful to all who have supported me through my career. You keep me sane, and you keep me going. But especially, I’d like to thank my sister, brother, and my wonderful boyfriend-”

He holds an arm out to someone in the audience, and the camera pans to none other than Bakugou Katsuki, “who quite literally saved my life, and helped me drive myself back on track. I love you Katsuki, and you continue to improve my life every second that you’re in it.”

Most of 3-A are in tears at this point, and as Bakugo half-heartedly scowls into the camera, they can tell his eyes are shining too.

Shouto glances back at the camera as if directing his words to someone in particular.

“Thank you.”

And then he’s walking back down to his seat as the audience provides him with a standing ovation.

“THEY’RE DATING,” Mina sobs, shaking Kirishima’s shoulders as he sits, staring slack-jawed at the television.

“Yeah, yeah they are.”

Katsuki does NOT wipe tears from his eyes as he helps Shouto sit back down in his seat, but his boyfriend definitely does. His mascara, thankfully waterproof, still holds strong.

Shouto shoots him a watery smile, rubbing his arm as he pulls the blond into a hug.

“Happy two years, Katsuki.”

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myhockeyworld87 · 3 years

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Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 25

Word Count: 2,751

POV: Reader

Warngings: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Thank you anon for holding me accountable on getting this out. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to do this last night, but here it is. When last we saw these two, (Y/N) had gotten called into a meeting with GM from the Capitals. Wonder what he wants? Let’s find out. As always love your feedback and Happy Reading! Let me know what you guys think.

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

You sat at your desk across from the Capitals General Manager, wondering if he was going to pull the rug out from underneath your relationship with Sidney. He said that your name had kept coming up in conversation and you knew that couldn’t be a good thing. Though why the league had chosen him to be the bearer of bad news to you, you weren’t sure.

Your stomach churned as thoughts of having to make a choice between Sidney and your job crept in. If MacLellan asked you point blank to make a decision right then you didn’t know what you’d say. “Don’t look so distraught, Ms. (Y/LN). I’ve only heard good things about you.” Well, at least that was something, though it didn’t make you feel any better at the moment. “It’s actually the reason why I’m here. I want you to come work for us.”

You couldn’t have heard him right. Was he actually offering you a job? “I’ve heard the players and staff talk about how much you’re making their life easier. I need that in the Capitals organization. If we’re going to make a run for the cup, I want our players to have the best of everything, and that includes you, Ms. (Y/LN).”

“I’m flattered, truly, but…”

The GM didn’t let you finish. “I realize I’m asking a lot. Name your price. I’m sure Mario is paying you well. We can offer you more.”

“It’s not about that.” For it really wasn’t.

“I understand Ms. (Y/LN), you don’t want to give any numbers away.” Again, he didn’t let you finish talking. He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen off your desk and you knew he was writing down a salary figure for you; one you weren’t sure you wanted to look at. “Let’s start here and you tell me if I need to go higher.” He slid the paper across to you. “Go ahead take a look,” he insisted when you didn’t open it right away.

The amount was generous, more than generous really. It wasn’t that you weren’t being paid well by the Pens organization, you were, but this, well this was an amount that would buy you a Chanel bag every month along with matching shoes and still have plenty left over for anything else you wanted to buy. “It’s…well…”

“Say no more.” He wrote down another number and you knew it was more.

“Mr. MacLellan, this is a generous offer, but I’m going to…”

“I get it, I get it.” He said waving his hand to stave off anything more you wanted to say. “You need time to think about.” He stood up then. “Go home, take a couple nights to mull it over. I think you’d be an excellent addition to the Capitals organization Ms. (Y/LN). I’ll be in touch.” He reached over and you shook his hand.

You stood there speechless, as the GM was leaving your office. He turned though right before he exited. “I look forward to working with you Ms. (Y/LN).”

Stunned, that’s what you were when he finally left your office. What had actually just happened? The man did not let you get a word in at all, and now he was going to be calling you in a few days. You felt completely dumbfounded, both by the man and his offer. There was no time to think about that now though, you had a job to do.

What you didn’t know was that as you stood there collecting your thoughts, Sid was standing outside your office. Dana had mentioned that MacLellan was waiting for you in your office and he was curious what the GM wanted with you. Unfortunately for you, he’d only heard the last part of the conversation, the part where MacLellan said that you’d be a great part of the Caps organization and that he looked forward to working with you. Those words echoed in his ears. Were you really going to take a job with one of the Penguins' most hated rivalries? Better yet, were you going to be leaving him? That last part didn’t sit well with Sid at all. His stomach was in knots.

He walked back to the locker room dazed, going through his pregame rituals without any thought. Sid had done them so many times they were almost like a mechanical reflex. It was easy for him to avoid you, as you tended to give him space before a game, though he was having trouble getting you off his mind.

Sid put every effort into the game, ignoring that pit in his gut that said you were going to leave him. The game was high scoring and saw the Pens and Caps going into overtime, but the Pens were victorious. When you found Sid after the game, he was in a lousy mood despite the victory. You chalked it up to not winning in regulation and just remained silent as the two of you made your way to the car. The only thing that bothered you was that he didn’t try to hold your hand or give you a kiss as he did after every game, no matter if they won or lost. “Everything alright?” you finally asked once you were ensconced inside the vehicle. Sid didn’t answer right away. “I know it sucks giving up that point, but at least Shears was able to get the goal in OT to give us the extra one.”

Sid simply grunted in acknowledgment. You knew then that there was definitely something more than the game going on with him, but decided to wait until you were home to talk about it. The minute you pulled in the drive you couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Sid, is something wrong? Are you upset with me?” You were both out of the car by then, and Sid definitely slammed the door with more force than necessary. “Sidney,” you yelled chasing after him as he entered the house through the garage. He was halfway in the kitchen before you got a chance to speak again. “Sidney Patrick Crosby, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Me! There’s nothing wrong with me!” His voice was raised and you could practically see the anger radiating off him. He dropped his bag in the kitchen not even turning around to look at you.

“Sidney!” you shouted, in hopes that he would at least stop. When he didn’t you turned on your heel and headed back towards the garage. “When you’re ready to talk to me, I think you know where you can find me.” This was the exact reason that you hadn’t given up your place yet, because you knew there would be a time just like this that he would shut you out.

“Do I?” Sid yelled back, finally stopping when he’d almost crossed the threshold of the kitchen. “Maybe I’ll check for you in DC.” His anger was rising more with each passing second and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to just throw something

“What did you say?” You didn’t turn around as you tried to absorb Sid’s words.

“You heard me, (Y/N). I know you’re going to work for the Capitals.” He stomped back into the kitchen, while your hand remained on the doorknob to the garage. “How could you (Y/N)? How can you take a job with one of our rivals? How could you turn on our team like that? Or the organization?” It was then that you turned around and look at Sid. The anger that was once written all over his face gradually fading away to hurt. “How could you leave me?”

You were trying to keep up with all his questions, but that last one broke your heart. It was at that moment, that you realized that had the Capitals GM been there to make you choose between Sid and your job, you’d choose Sid every time. Sure, MacLellan had offered you a job, one that you knew the moment it was made, you’d turn down, but you weren’t turning it down because for any other reason than the man standing right in front of you. “Sid, I’m not leaving.”

He shook his head as if he didn’t believe you. You weren’t sure what he’d heard, or how he’d heard it, but he needed to know that you weren’t walking away from him. “I’m not taking the job with the Capitals.”

“But I heard him, (Y/N). I heard him say that he looked forward to working with you.”

It took exactly three steps for you to erase the distance between yourself and Sid, and though you took your hand and raised it to his cheek, to be even just a bit closer; he still distanced himself from you emotionally. “Yes, he said that, and if he would’ve let me say a word, I would’ve told him that there was nothing that could make me leave this team or you.” The dead look that had taken over his usual smiling hazel eyes finally lifted at your words. “I love you, Sid, and yes this job is important to me, but I realized tonight, that you’re more important than all of it.” That earned you a smile, as his hands finally came up to rest on your waist. “When I came to Mario with this idea, I had no idea if it would work or even be needed. He and I agreed we’d try it out for a year. I don’t even know if come March, he’ll want to keep me around.” Sid gave you that look, the one that said that the great Mario Lemieux would be a fool to let you go. He even made an attempt to tell you that, but you stopped him. “But what I do know, is that I want to stay here with you. If that means that in a couple months I’m out of work and job hunting, so be it; because the only thing that matters is that I get to be with you.”

Sid’s lips came down on yours in a bruising kiss. One that stole not only your breath but your senses away as well. It was minutes before either of you were coming up for air. “God, I love you,” Sid breathed out as his hazel eyes locked with yours. “I never should’ve believed for a second that you would take a job with the Capitals. It’s just when I heard MacLellan, my mind went into overdrive.”

“Your mind is always in that mode.” He laughed but it was true. Sid processed things so fast from years of playing hockey that when it came to your relationship, he forgot that there were two of you in it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his puppy dog eyes making you melt. “I need to learn to stop doubting you.”

“Yes, you do, but you’re forgiven. Just don’t shut down on me again.”

He hauled you in closer so that not even a centimeter separated the two of you. “I’ll try not to.” Sid dropped his forehead to yours as he continued to hold you in his arms.

“That’s all I can ask. Though if you have any tips on how to deal with the Caps GM, I’ll take it. The man literally would not let me get a word in.”

“I’ll call him right now and tell him your answer’s no.”

He started to walk away, but it was your turn to pull him into you. “Don’t you dare. I can tell him that myself when he calls.”

“Fine,” Sid reluctantly agreed. “I know you can handle him, but if he tries to steal my girl again, I make no promises.”

You sweetly pecked his lips, for it was adorable of him to stand up for you. “Deal. Now that that’s settled let’s call it a night. It’s been a long day.”

Sid had other ideas though as his hands slid down your waist and he grabbed your ass. “Mmm, not just yet.” His hands were gathering your skirt and hiking it up. “I feel like I should make a proper apology.” He dropped to his knees then, taking your panties with him. Once you stepped out of them, he glided his hands up your inner thighs, parting them to give himself better access to your core. Taking his index finger, Sid slowly dragged it through your folds. “Fuck baby, I’ve barely touched you and you’re wet.”

Sid just had that effect on you and you knew he loved it. “I thought you were apologizing,” you teased, while he just grinned up at you.

“Oh, baby it’s on now.” There was a wicked glint in his eye right before he spread your pussy lips and took his tongue licking a stripe up to your clit. You were able to suppress the shiver that wracked your body but not the moan that came from your lips. When Sid put his mind to something there was no stopping him and you had a feeling you were in for it, as his tongue flicked over your little nub. It was exquisite torture and had you leaning back against the kitchen island for support.

Sid lifted your one leg, placing it easily over his shoulder to give him greater access to you. His tongue found its way inside your pussy, pushing you close to the brink, as his nose nudged at your clit. He took his time, building you up and backing off when he felt you nearing that point of no return. You groaned in frustration every time. “Sid!” You growled, sifting your fingers through his locks, in hopes to get him to tip you over the edge.

You felt him smirk against you but he still didn’t relent. Your hips pushed against his face seeking the release he wasn’t ready to give. They only stopped when his hands gripped them, keeping you still while practically lifting you in the air. It was only then that he decided to be merciful. Giving it his all, as he ate your pussy with renewed vigor. When you finally hit that high, it felt as if you were flying and you screamed out his name as your body shook with pleasure.

Sid set you back on the ground but still held on to your hips. Knowing that you’d be a bit wobbly after the earth shattering orgasm he gave you. “You are definitely forgiven,” you breathed out when he finally stood up. He kissed your lips and you could taste your essence on him. You pushed his pants and boxers down, while your tongues entwined. It was only once his cock was free that you turned and bent over the island.

“Fuck (Y/N),” Sid hissed as you presented yourself to him. He entered you in one swift motion, both of you groaning as he filled you. There wouldn’t be a day that you would tire of this; feeling his cock inside you was like your piece of heaven on earth. One hand gripped your hip, while Sid’s other came around and played with your still clothed breasts. “So fucking good,” he moaned, thrusting just a bit so he was buried balls deep in you.

When he didn’t move, you did; fucking yourself on his cock. “Jesus (Y/N).” You felt his cock twitch inside you and you sped up the pace. The sound of your ass slapping against him and your moans were the only things filling the kitchen air. As you pushed back against him this time, you felt him snap. His grip on your hip tightening as he took control, slamming into your pussy. The hand on your breasts snuck down to your clit to rub it furiously. Sid was an unselfish lover, just as he was an unselfish player on the ice. Always wanting you to reach that pinnacle of release before he did, even when you’d already reached it once. It didn’t take much for the climax to hit you, as your pussy quivered around his cock, and with a few erratic thrusts, he came with you.

Both of you were breathing harshly, as Sid brought your body up flush against his chest. He dropped a few kisses to your neck, then tilted your head so that your mouths could meet. “I love you, (Y/N) and I really am sorry for doubting you.”

You twisted in his embrace so that you were face to face. “I love you too, Sid.”

#not so dangerous liaison series #sidney crosby #sidney crosby smut #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby imagines #nhl smut #nhl fan fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey smut #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey imagines

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halfway-happyyy · 4 years

Text

She’s My Kind Of Girl

AN: this started as an idea of the lovely @bskarsgardlove92‘s and i kind of just rolled with it! i hope you enjoy, and as always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated!

synopsis: Alex dresses in drag to attend a costume party with his girl, as one half of Swedish superband, ABBA! Absolute fluff ensues!

“Though you may hail from a long and distinguished line of inexplicably talented thespians, I know you well enough by now to recognize when you're not telling me something.”

Alexander passed a serviette over the front of his mouth and swallowed back a bite of salmon, cocking an eyebrow in amusement. “I beg your pardon?”

She sipped deeply from her glass of chilled wine, and cocked her head to the side, eyeing him. “Don’t play coy with me, Alex. You were on the line with Eija when I came into the kitchen. That glint in your eyes says so much and then nothing at all in equal measure.”

“One could almost say that you know me too well, kid.”

"Almost," She grinned around the delicate rim of her glass. “Now spill it, Skarsgård.”

Alexander leaned back against the oak chair, dangling a long arm over the back of it. “Dad’s seventieth birthday is next month. Eija’s hosting a party back home for him, and she wants us to be there.”

She thought fondly of Alexander’s father often; he had been one of the first faces of his family that she’d had the privilege of meeting when her and Alexander had started taking things a little more seriously. Where her own father figure had been virtually non-existent most of the time, she was blessed to have such a wonderful father-in-law in Stellan. He was such an integral part of their lives that the thought of not returning home to Sweden to celebrate him was almost too much to bear.

“I’ll look into flights tomorrow morning. What kind of get together is it? I would imagine knowing Eija as I do, that she's got something wonderful up her sleeve?”

Alexander's lips curved up into a devilish smirk and he cocked his head to the side.

“She's hosting a costume party.”

There it was…

“God, I can only imagine the ideas that beautiful mind of yours has already dreamed up.”

Alexander tipped the rest of his wine into his mouth, his blue eyes glittering mischievously in the low light from the dining room lamp. “Hm, you know how much dad loves ABBA…”

It was the precise tone of his voice that she reckoned prepared her for what was coming next. “Oh boy,” She giggled under her breath.

“Well, I propose that we go as Björn and Agnetha.”

She mulled the thought of it over in her head, and then an idea swam into her mind's eye that caused a smirk similar to her other half's to tug the edges of her lips skyward. “I'll do it on one condition, my love.”

His eyebrow lifted in intrigue. “I'm all ears.”

“I will do it if I can be the Björn to your Agnetha.”

His laughter- utterly loud and booming, filled every square space of their home with a warm and joyous sound. When it subsided, he leveled his gaze with hers and she noticed immediately, the blush that had risen to the apples his cheeks. After a moment, he nodded his head finitely. “You've got yourself a deal, kid.”

She glanced at the watch face beneath the bell sleeve of her silver, sequined blouse, and sighed heavily. “C'mon dancing queen, we haven’t got all night…” Alexander emerged from the bathroom door a moment later, a blonde, perfectly styled wig fell below the cups of a filled-out bra.

“I must say,” He reached toward her to tousle the brunette wig atop of her head, a smirk in place on his features. “Silver and forest green sequins do wonders for you, kid. Or should I say- Björn.”

“Oh hush,” She giggled. “I can hardly imagine the outfit you’ve conjured up for this evening." They gazed at each other in silence for a moment before she gestured to her vanity. "Shall I do your makeup?”

Alexander shifted from foot to foot. “If you wouldn't mind,” He murmured.

She stood on tiptoes to twirl strands of blonde hair around her finger. “It would be an honour, Agnetha.”

She followed Alexander to the vanity next to their bay window and turned on the lamp so that it illuminated his face perfectly. Pulling up a photo of Agnetha on her phone for reference, she set to work. “She sometimes likes to wear bold colours on her eyes, so that’s the look we’re going for this evening.” She started the process by moisturizing and priming his face, opting out of a foundation, and using a tinted moisturizer instead. “Alright, close your eyes for me, my love.” He did as he was told, and she allowed herself a moment to admire how breathtaking he truly was. After a couple of seconds of searching, she found a palette that was made up of different shades of purple and applied a muted lavender hue over both of his lids. Wanting to go a little darker, she blended a violet shade into his creases and stood back to admire her handiwork. Nearly done, she decided to go dramatic on the eyeliner, but when she reached for her favourite tube of mascara, Alexander faltered.

“I don’t need… falsies?”

She blanched. “Alex, I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but your natural eyelashes are beautiful,” She took his face in her hands and gently turned it to the side, gesturing to his left eye. “Look how long and healthy they are. I think I have some cheap lashes lying around somewhere if you really want them, but I think a few coats of mascara will do wonderfully.”

He reached up to press his lips to the underside of her jaw, shaking his head. “No, I trust you.”

She kissed the tip of his nose and got back to work. “You’ve done magnificent so far. I’m just about finished…” She glanced around for her mauve pink lipstick, held a hand beneath his chin and applied the colour to his lips. “Alright, rub your lips together for me please.” She watched him do as she asked. “Now pat them together, as if you were smacking them.” She waited. “Alright, for the finishing touch,” She reached for her bottle of setting spray, told him to close his eyes, and let the mist settle over his face. “You my love, are finished and ready for the evening.

He leaned forward to inspect her handiwork closely, and a large smile grew on his face. “You’ve done a wonderful job, kid.”

She nodded towards the washroom door. “Go on then, Chiquitita. The party awaits.”

“You and your ABBA puns, huh?” Alexander smirked, before closing the door behind him.

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Just wait until your brothers get a hold of us.” She snickered. While she waited for Alexander to wrap up, she began lacing up the white platform boots she had found weeks ago. They added an extra four inches to her height, and she fought back a giggle as she sipped the last remnants of her pre-game cocktail.

Ten minutes elapsed, and she began to feel the familiar tug of inebriation deep in her belly. Suddenly, Alexander cleared his throat. “I’m coming out. Are you ready?”

“I’ve literally never been more ready in my life.” She deadpanned.

Alexander emerged from the washroom, and all she could do was gape at his figure as he stood poised in the doorway. Lord knows where, but he had managed to find a hot pink jumpsuit with a silver-sequined trim around the neckline and a heart-shaped cutout that showed off his adorable, trim bellybutton perfectly. He donned glossy, white boots on his feet that only added to his seemingly immense height. “Well, what do you think?” He asked, dubiously.

She swallowed hard. “I have lots of feelings about it actually… but our car is here, and your father awaits.” She held her arm out for him to take. “Shall we go, my beautiful Agnetha?”

Alexander accepted her arm gratefully and bent down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Lead the way, Björn.”

“What are your brothers going as?” She asked, as they slid into the backseat of the sedan.

“Uh, I think Bill and his family said that they were going as Disney characters. Gustaf and Valter are going as Top Gun’s Maverick and Goose, respectively,” He paused so that they could share a laugh at that. “And I’m not sure yet what Sam and his family are doing.”

She scratched contemptuously at the back of her head. “I hate this wig already.”

Alexander snorted into his drink. “But it looks so good on you… the way it kind of frames your face in that ‘the 70’s called and they want their hair back’ kind of way…”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s the heart-shaped bellybutton window for me.”

Alexander guffawed loudly. “Oh really? We're playing that game? Well then, it’s the extra four or five inches that you’re wearing but you still don’t reach past my sternum, for me.”

They rounded the corner to Stellan’s street, and laughter bubbled up out of her mouth like a song. “It’s the fact that you look better than most women I know, for me.” This sent Alexander into such a frenzy that she paid the driver herself. “Alright, Agnetha, I have a dream and it involves you exiting this vehicle tonight,” She nudged his back to get him out of the open car door. “Let's go, girlfriend.” They ambled up the pathway hand-in-hand and stood giggling in front of Stellan’s door. Roaring laughter and bits and pieces of broken Swedish and English conversation could be heard from inside as her finger hovered above the doorbell. “You ready?”

Alexander nodded, finitely. “Go on then,”

She rang the bell and waited for what felt like years, before the door flung open and Eija greeted them in a demure, feline costume. Her face was disbelieving at first, but then her painted-on whiskers twitched; she cracked and laughter roared from her belly in happy waves. When she could speak again, she shook her head gleefully. “Come in, come in you two. What an honour to have one half of the world’s greatest band with us!” She ushered them into Stellan’s lively home, the scent of a freshly-cooked feast hung tantalizing in the air, and made her mouth water hungrily. “Just wait until papa sees you!” She clapped her hands merrily, pulling them into the adjacent living room.

Their entrance caused mass hysteria; pure laugher on a level that was hard to fathom. Gustaf approached them first, a pair of sunglasses sat perched atop his head, and he was sporting a mustache. Clad in a pair of army-green coveralls, the badge on his chest simply read, ‘Gus.’ “I have to say that when Alex first told me what the two of you were planning, this was not what I had in mind…” He scratched absentmindedly at the bridge of his nose, his smile wry. “But you two absolutely knocked it out of the park. Well done, brother.” He belly laughed, and wrapped an arm around Alex’s shoulders, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I can’t wait until dad sees you.”

Valter appeared before them next, clad in the exact same costume as Gustaf accept that his badge read, ‘Maverick’, and he had on over his blue eyes, a pair of mirrored Rayban aviators. “Mamma Mia, Agnetha! Such lovely bosoms you have!”

A hand appeared out of the abyss and sneaked its way toward Alexander’s ample breasts, but the younger Skarsgård's plan was foiled before he could get there with Alexander slapping it away just in the nick of time. “Touch them and die, Valter.” He beamed, devilishly.

Valter's grin was sheepish. “My apologies Agnetha- Björn.”

She tossed a wink his way. “Turns out she can take care of herself just fine.”

“Alright, alright, where are they?” Stellan’s achingly familiar voice- unmistakable anywhere, boomed throughout the room. When he caught sight of them, he stood stock-still and tilted his head back, his rolling laughter loud and genuine. It caused pleasant goosebumps to rise in waves over her arms, and she couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “This is it,” He announced. “I couldn’t dare to ask for another thing after this. My eldest boy and his love coming in drag as Agnetha and Björn? This is seventy, folks!” He closed the distance between them to wrap them both in a crushing bear hug. When he pulled away, his eyes were glittering brightly beneath the low light of the many lamps scattered around the living room. “How unbelievably wonderful it is to see you both here.” He kissed both of their cheeks over again, his smile wide and utterly contagious. “On a totally unrelated note- that you and Björn here have similar situations happening… ehm, up top, is really quite miraculous, isn’t it?”

Alexander rolled his azure eyes, laughing loudly at that. “Happy birthday, dad.”

“And what a wonderful birthday it turned out to be. Come, come. We have much to discuss.”

The night carried on in much the same fashion; drinks were had (and spilt), laughter was shared, pictures were taken- and all the while, she just felt unimaginably blessed to be a part of it all. Closer towards the evening’s finish, she felt Alexander’s hand tighten around her own, and she knew then, without a shadow of a doubt that this was her family. This was where she belonged.

#literal ICONS #who doesn't love little ABBA??#alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard x reader #alexander skarsgard imagine #alexander skarsgard oneshot #alexander skarsgard drabble #drabble #writing #fluff #alex sstuff

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ikingsley · 4 years

Text

Ina x MC: Sabbatical (Part 1)

Summary: A miscommunication causes a rift between Ina and Luna.

Warnings: ANGST! Slightly mature themes as well.

Tag: @samanthadalton

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

Author’s Notes: First part of a two-parter written at the request of @kwaj05. For context, Luna and Ina are secretly together!

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It was late into the evening when Ina found out that her sabbatical had been granted, and she was ecstatic. As soon as she read that article that said people in New Orleans were the strangest, she knew she had to visit. She’d been dying for an opportunity like this. She could pursue her research passions whilst still being paid. Plus, she wouldn’t have to deal with annoying students. Oh. Students. Luna.

Luna finally dawned on her. And Ina’s heart broke a little. Devastation ran through her body. Ina didn’t know how she was going to break the news to Luna.

She paced up and down her office, that was scattered with half-empty boxes, trying to think of lines that would soften the blow.

At the sound of a small knock, Ina looked up to find the one person her brain tormented over. Luna was near the entrance of Ina’s office, her small frame leaning against the doorway.

“Yo! What’s up Professor?” Luna asked cheekily.

“Ms. Garcia,” Ina smiled.

But Luna saw how her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Then she noticed the boxes strewn across the floor. Her own smile dissipated quickly. Luna felt a sense of anguish coursing through her body. Something was wrong. And it was something big.

“Ina, what’s happening?” Luna asked. Luna was torn. One part of her screamed for the answer to that question to quell her rising anxiety; the other half wanted to leave it unanswered.

“Uh-” Ina began. “Luna, take a seat please,” Ina said as she gestured towards the two chairs that sat at the back of her office.

Ina was the first one to ‘sit’ on the chair - it was more like she had collapsed onto it. She sighed heavily, struggling to find the words to explain the situation to Luna. The two sat in silence, with Luna mulling over what she had seen in the office. Had Ina been fired? Had the two been discovered? Luna was almost brought to tears by this thought. It was near impossible to process that their forbidden relationship had possibly come to an end because of a social taboos and constructs.Through cloudy eyes, Luna looked up to ask Ina if they had been discovered.

“Heh, no we haven’t,” Ina chuckled as she continued to stare at the floor. She then looked up to see Luna, and her laughter ceased as soon as she saw Luna’s somber face. Luna could still tell something was wrong.

“Ina. Please. What’s wrong?” Luna redirected the conversation.

Ina sighed. She couldn’t procrastinate any longer. “I...I got an opportunity. In New Orleans.”

And everything finally made sense. Ina’s tired, half-hearted smiles, the boxes...

At first, Luna smiled. She was happy for Ina. Ina worked tirelessly grading tests, writing papers, doing things for Luna...She deserved this opportunity.

“Why do you seem sad about it?” Luna asked. “It’s a sabbatical. For an entire year,” Ina said solemnly.

Ina’s statement finally sunk in. Ina would be gone for a whole year, away from Luna. And the likelihood that the relationship would last long distance was close to none. Luna was far too clingy and touchy-feely for a long distance relationship. And deep down, both women knew it.

And again, the two sat in silence. Neither knowing what was to come of their relationship. After a long period of silence, Luna couldn’t not ask. She had to know, even if it was the last thing she ever did.

“When?” Luna asked. “I found out I got it just before you came,” Ina replied. Ina saw in Luna’s eyes that that wasn’t her question. “Oh, when do I leave?” Ina tried to recognize. “I’m scheduled to leave in two weeks,” Ina said, answering her own question. Again, Ina hadn’t answered Luna’s question.

“No, when? Like, when did you apply for this? Were we together already?” Luna asked. Ina hadn’t thought about an answer to this. She struggled to find coherent words to put together. “I...I applied a couple of weeks ago,” Ina admitted. “So we were together. In a serious relationship. Great. Cool. Awesome,” Luna said sarcastically.

When Luna got sarcastic, and not humorously sarcastic, it troubled Ina. It meant that her annoyance was building. And Ina knew it would not bode well.

“I didn’t think I’d get it,” Ina tried to justify.

Luna stood up quickly and laughed angrily. “Didn’t think you’d get it. Heh. You’re really funny sometimes.”

Ina’s annoyance grew along with Luna’s. She too stood up and looked straight at Luna. “This is my job, Luna!”

And like the women had risen from their chairs, their voice levels also rose. They weren’t screaming at each other, at least not yet, but each word was enunciated firmly.

“I’ve never tried to impede your academic endeavors. I know how much your career means to you. And I’ve known since we met. But why didn’t you tell me, Ina? Why couldn’t you tell me that you applied for sabbatical? This affects both of us, you know,” Luna stated.

At first, Ina’s resolve wavered. It was a valid point. “I-” But Ina stopped herself. Her work had always come first. She learned from her exes that she couldn’t sacrifice her career for what might be a temporary relationship. And instead of admitting wrongdoing, she defended herself. “This is huge for my career! I’ve been waiting for something like this! I’ll be publishing a new paper and it may help me expand my anthropological circle. I don’t get it. Why can’t we do long distance? Why can’t you come with me?”

“We both know long distance would never work! You know how I am,” Luna said.

“How do you know if we haven’t even tried?” Ina countered.

“You’d always be busy and I have my life here. I’m leaving, Ina. Good luck in New Orleans,” Luna said sadly.

And at the heat of the moment, at the point of loss of logic, almost any words were fair game. As Luna turned away to leave, Ina called out to her. “So you’re just giving up on us? Just like that?” Ina yelled.

Luna turned around almost immediately and stormed towards Ina, angrily jabbing a finger at Ina’s chest. “If anyone gave up on us, it was you! You were the one who applied for a job a thousand miles away without even telling me! Did you even consider me when applying? Did you?” Luna snapped back.

“When we got together, I told you how important my job was. And you agreed to it,” Ina said.

“You didn’t answer my question. I guess you didn’t think about me when applying,” Luna reminded her.

And Ina failed to deny it. The room’s tension could be cut with a knife. Heat radiated off both of the women who were standing less than an inch apart. The two looked at each other, and deep realization set in. This was a possible deal breaker. They backed away from each other and subsequently, the room’s tension was cut in half. It was obvious that they realized that fighting was futile.

“This is different, Ina. You’re moving away for god’s sake. This is a huge deal.” Luna paused slightly, deliberating over next words. “And...and it’s okay. I’m not gonna stand in between you and your career,” At this point of acceptance, Luna’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Goodbye, Ina. I love you,” she muttered.

“I love you, Luna,” Ina had mumbled back. But it was too late. The door close quietly, and Luna was gone into the night. Ina fell to the floor, crying against the wall, holding herself in her arms.

As soon as Luna opened the doors of the building, she was taken aback by New York City’s cold and brisk air hitting her tears. Her efforts to wipe them away were useless; her tears fell as if they were an endless cascade. She struggled to lug herself home; she could barely see three feet in front of her through her tears and was exhausted from screaming and arguing with Ina.

At the stroke of midnight, Luna collapsed on her bed and Ina on her couch in the office. They wrapped themselves in their own covers - it had been a long time since they had slept alone. Both women stared at their ceilings, letting their tears fall freely.

Two weeks had passed by agonizingly slowly. Ina and Luna hadn’t talked in the entire period of time. It was the longest they’d gone without speaking since they met.

Neither woman took their separation lightly. Ina, known for her philosophical discussion questions and witty remarks back at students, stayed behind her desk quietly throughout the entirety of class. To her students, it seemed as if she had lost all interest in teaching, and maybe even anthropology. Luna had skipped Ina’s class and only attended her classes that were on the other side of campus. She still turned in her anthropology assignments, but because of her lack of attendance, her normal grade of an A in the class dropped to a low B, borderline C.

Luna and Ina hadn’t run into each other on campus. And for this, both women were grateful - they didn’t know how they would react if they saw each other in person.

At home, Ina’s days were dull, unvarying and monotonous. She woke up, forced herself out of bed, made coffee, taught, and cried herself to sleep. This unhealthy cycle repeated itself throughout the two weeks. Luna’s days differed only slightly. Instead of teaching, she went to class and when she returned home, she blasted depressing music throughout her dorm.

Ina’s fingers hovered over the send button. She closed her eyes, pressed the button and hoped for the best. She wished Luna would answer. At first, she debated sending her the message, but realized that she couldn’t go on the plane without at least telling Luna something.

Meanwhile, after her Shakespearean Literature class, Luna trudged on home and put on her daily emotional music. Luna plopped herself on the bed and began belting out the lyrics to the songs she felt like she personally related to.

I still hear your voice in the traffic

We’re laughing over all the noise

God, I’m so blue, know we’re through

But I still-

Her music cut off as her phone pinged with a notification. Angrily, she grabbed her phone to clear the text, but as soon as she saw who it was, her heart stopped.

Saturday 1/16 @ 3:30 pm Ina: I’m at the airport, boarding soon. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye - and I might never be. I wish you were here. I love you.

Luna sobbed while reading the message over and over again. I miss her. I love her. Wait- I. Love. Her.

Though they had declared their love for each other many times before, Luna felt this one was different. She loved Ina. Luna sat up straight, realizing what she had to do. She grabbed a hoodie from her closet, pulled it over her head and darted out the door. She needed to claim her woman.

Anxiety filled Luna’s entire body. She hoped she would get to Ina on time. Her focus shifted from the road to what she would tell Ina. She knew she had to tell her she loved her unconditionally, that she missed her infinitely, that she wanted to wake up next to her every morning; essentially, that she was her everything. Again, Luna’s tears clouded her vision. That’s why she didn’t see the 18 wheeler barreling down the street. And in a flash, the world darkened.

Ina paced anxiously outside her gate, waiting for a text back or something. Anything.

“Ma’am, are you getting on the plane or not?” the TSA woman asked irritated.

Ina was about to bark out a petty response, but instead she composed herself. She assumed and accepted that she wasn’t getting a text back and sighed, rolling her baggage down the terminal walkway.

#ina kingsley #ina x mc #queen b #choices #luna garcia

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withkun · 4 years

Text

visage | j. jaehyun

genre: enemies to lovers... kinda? with some fluff and smut :) word count: 5.2k pairing: reader x jaehyun warnings: graphic hetersexual sex (oral, penetration, etc), swearing, excessive world building summary: Your first day of work at your first real job began terribly. You hadn’t got enough sleep, you could barely eat your breakfast, and you managed to get lost on the way. Soon, you discover you’re working alongside serial charmer Jaehyun Jung and that he will stop at nothing to be the best.

a/n: this is a mess im sorry lmao. i somehow managed to use jaehyun 86 times in here ... girl...

You felt completely, utterly, and hopelessly lost – all on the first day of your first real job. That morning, you awoke two hours earlier than you had to. If you had a choice, you would’ve face planted into your pillow and died right there. However, your anxiety decided against it. And with that extra time, you managed to pull off an extended morning routine. A warm, long shower. Ten-step skincare routine. Eggs, toast, and black tea. Despite your attempts to regain your confidence, all was lost as you circled the office building.

The orientation guide you received hadn’t helped much. All you knew was that you should report to building B. Whichever building that may have been, you had no idea. Your feet grew weary and you cursed yourself for wearing heels. You rounded the corner of the office park for your fourth or fifth lap, only to be cut off by an overdressed jackass. Before you could sidestep him and continue your hopeless journey, the perpetrator turned to face you.

“Oh, no. He’s hot,” you thought to yourself, praying your cheeks weren’t stained red. Despite wearing a well-tailored gray suit, you realized that he was likely your same age. He took in your slightly disheveled appearance, probably noting your ruffled hair and askew skirt.

He tilted his head in the direction of the closest building. “Are you here for orientation, too?”

Of course he had to be in your hiring class. Twenty-two and already looking like he owned the building. You nodded, then turned on your heel to rush inside. Trailing your steps, you heard him chuckle lowly.

You finally joined the rest of the new hires in the security lobby, managing to fix your appearance before you reached the door. To your gratitude, they dressed similarly to you. Just plain business casual. The boy you met earlier definitely stood out, making the others wonder if they hadn’t dressed well enough.

Within ten minutes, you all received security badges and shuffled into your orientation room. You preferred the back, whereas the business boy sat directly in the front. Rolling your eyes, you realized his game. You met plenty of people like him in college, ruthless climbers that destroyed everything in their paths. He knew he had to make more than an entrance, he had to make an impression.

You grew to dislike him more and more as your training sessions progressed over the course of two weeks. An insufferable know it all, answering all the questions managers prompted. Volunteering for everything first, unafraid. You on the other hand, did not find his actions necessary. He left a glowing impression, yes, but you found it meaningless. Like hell the trainers cared about how well you completed your general training. Maybe he wanted everyone to relate this to his future performance, for you to watch out for his dominance. For you to fear him. Worst of all, he saw you struggle with the most simplistic task on your first day.

He easily made friends within the group, as there were plenty others like him. All recent college graduates, fantastic resumes, and working for one of the best companies in the field. You, on the other hand, did not have such luck. Your social circle consisted of yourself and another quiet trainee, a quiet finance major named Doyoung. The two of you kept to yourselves and became the outliers of the group, so much to the extent that you sat alone for training sessions.

Two weeks came and passed, and you finally received your team assignments. You found your name on the bulletin, right next to Jaehyun Jung’s. Of course. It had to be this way.

Jaehyun approached the bulletin board aside you, and grinned as he found his name. “Looks like we’re working together,” he commented, still wearing the same expression. You realized why he appeared so happy. People like Jaehyun would not recognize someone like you as a threat. You barely appeared on his radar.

You grit your teeth and forced a smile. “I look forward to it.”

With your whorish luck, you found that your desks were right next to each other and you’d be essentially working back to back. You already hated being watched, and Jaehyun could easily look over his shoulder and see you struggling to keep up.

Jaehyun settled into his seat with ease, already look at home in his new desk. You sat gingerly on your office chair, gathering your surroundings.

Your desks sat right in the view of your department lead’s office, likely to Jaehyun’s excitement.

Being on the same team, you and Jaehyun had the rest of your training sessions together. Just you two and your manager. He always seemed to grasp the new concepts immediately while you merely pretended and made notes to ask Doyoung later.

They assigned your first project sometime later, one that you and Jaehyun would have to complete jointly. You dreaded it, knowing he would try to take over the project.

That first morning, Jaehyun was already at his desk. You glanced at your watch, nearly scoffing as you read off 6:59. Despite having the ability to make his own schedule, Jaehyun chose to arrive before seven. You collapsed into your desk chair, jealousy eyeing Jaehyun’s full coffee mug. He already had time to help himself to coffee. Typical.

“Morning,” he greeted, fully awake and energized. “I set up a meeting for 8 today to start working on the project.”

You powered on your desktop, mentally groaning at the hundreds of emails present in your mailbox. “That’s…fine,” you murmured, praying that you could address all your client emails in a measly hour without the aid of caffeine.

He glanced behind him to see you hunched over and lifelessly typing. “I’ll make that 9.”

And yet again, you were caught in a moment of weakness. Great. “Yeah, okay.”

Those two hours passed slowly, but at least you managed to prepare a cup of tea. By 8:55, Jaehyun already settled into the conference room and wrote diagnostics on the whiteboard. All while you still went through your emails.

You joined him, a fresh cup of tea in one hand and your laptop in another. “All right, I see that you’ve already set up the basics,” you said monotonously, nodding towards the whiteboard. “I conjured up some of my own ideas as well.” Without prompt, you rose and added a few bullet points under Jaehyun’s “approaches” section. You scanned his ideas, noting that they weren’t bad, but not what you had in mind.

“I see,” Jaehyun commented, still standing. He put his hands on his hips, carefully mulling over the options. “They’re quite good.”

You felt ashamed of your satisfaction for his response, but also surprise. He sounded genuine enough, but you knew that his type always had some angle to work. Prodding you board at your second option, you decided, “I think this is our best bet.”

Jaehyun remained quiet for a moment, eyes flickering across the board. “What if we combined a couple?” he inquired. He pointed to your idea, then his. “It would streamline the process more holistically.”

“Holistically??” you thought. You hadn’t heard that word since high school English class. It was so painfully pretentious to you.

He went on to explain how it would work, but you were still caught up on the pure obnoxiousness of the word “holistically.”

“Y/N,” Jaehyun tried. “Hello?”

You blinked, finally hearing your name. “Sorry, I was thinking about how this will impact everything.” A lie, Jaehyun didn’t need to know how long you caught yourself on a single word.

“So, what do you think?” Jaehyun leaned against the wall, eyes searching yours.

Oh god, now you were thinking about his eyes. Pushing those thoughts aside, you answered, “So long as we put a heavy emphasis on my part, I think it’ll work.”

He agreed and you went on, mostly working quietly. You avoided asking him questions, even when you became desperate. Jaehyun, meanwhile, tried to engage you in small talk.

“Where did you go to college?” he asked, to which you gave him a one-word response.

“Are you from here?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“What was your major?”

You barely answered, but he failed to get the point until he finally inquired to something relevant. “Did I do something that offended you?”

You drew in a breath, fumbling for the right words. If you were honest with him, you wouldn’t have to put on a façade. If you lied, you wouldn’t get on his bad side. Even pretty boys like him could be ruthless if given the opportunity and reason. You saw it before, you knew you would see it all over again.

“No,” you decided, pulling on a tight-lipped smile. “I just want to do really well on this.”

That last part, at least, wasn’t a lie. You felt that you had to prove yourself, especially against the Jaehyuns of the world. If only briefly, you saw his relief. His face relaxed a little, and his shoulders lost some tension. “Me too,” he agreed.

The following month went on similarly. You completed the project quietly, only interjecting to make corrections and provide your input. When you finally reached the day of your presentation, your nerves caught you once more. You woke up far too early and arrived at the office at the same time as Jaehyun. A new record.

If he was on edge, you couldn’t tell. Outwardly, he appeared the same. Nothing could take away his quiet glow of confidence. Jaehyun worked, unbothered, sipping his coffee almost casually.

“Are you ready?”

Jaehyun turned to face you. “Never been readier.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if readier is a word.”

With a shrug and smile, Jaehyun returned to his work again. Odd, considering he was always chatty.

You attempted to mimic him, to work without doubts and review your notes. But your hands shook as you tried to type. You knew you couldn’t focus until you finished the presentation.

Although you hadn’t noticed him leave, you saw him approach your desk. Jaehyun gingerly placed a styrofoam cup on your desk. Your eyes met his. “Jaehyun?”

“Just some tea before the presentation,” he explained. “I noticed you like black tea with honey.”

You brought the cup to your lips, delighted to find that it was the perfect temperature. For once, you didn’t care about his motive. “Thanks,” you said. And you meant it.

He gave you wink. “We’ll be great today.”

You hoped he was right.

The presentation crept up on you suddenly, much faster than you had anticipated. Jaehyun found you outside the conference room, where you managers and team lead had already gathered, pacing and talking to yourself.

“Are you okay?”

He caught you again, there was no use in denying the truth. “Absolutely not.”

Jaehyun laughed lowly and put a hand on your shoulder. A part of you wanted to shrug it off, but you felt a strange comfort. “I’m nervous, too.”

You almost burst out laughing. Like hell he was nervous. But his concession, fake or real, made you feel some comfort.

Having reeled yourself in, you entered the conference room together.

And together, you made it through the presentation. You both had prepared excessively, ready to answer any question thoroughly. Management applauded your efforts, declaring that you had exceeded expectations. They rewarded you with a gift-card to a nearby steakhouse and urged you to celebrate together. Hastily, you attempted to invite the managers, only to be declined. They had work to complete in the office.

Your cheeks lit up red with embarrassment, but you agreed to make reservations for that night.

Jaehyun offered a ride over, to which you vehemently wanted to reject. Before the eyes of your manager, you took him up. You assured yourself that he was still the same person you knew. Nothing different. Nothing could’ve changed that. Seeing his car certainly helped. You never knew any recent college graduates that drove a Tesla, and yet…

Once you arrived at the restaurant, you quickly ordered yourself a martini. You didn’t care which one, so long as it had plenty of alcohol. Jaehyun simply ordered a beer, quoting driver safety commercials. “Just this,” he promised you, then proposed a toast. “We pulled it off.”

You drank your martini with gusto, and then prompted the waiter for another one. Jaehyun watched as you became drunk, consistently grinning as began to ramble. “You know I hate you, right?”

Your question caught him off guard. “You hate me?”

With a smile, you brought the martini glass to your lips. “You’re too perfect and try too hard.” His expression fell, but you forged on. For months, he made you feel inadequate and beyond anxious. You befuddled mind justified this bluntness. “Every day feels like a goddamn competition.”

Jaehyun reached across the table, taking your hand. “I had no idea,” he admitted quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s whatever. You’re no different from most in our hiring class.”

With a sigh, Jaehyun took an elongated sip from his beer. “They’re not all bad.”

Despite the alcohol coursing its way through your system, you realized that a few strands of hair fell out of place. He hunched over, brows furrowed, lost in thought. It wasn’t the first time you saw that either. Just out of your periphery vision, you saw him buried in work while you finished the project.

Jaehyun swept his hands through his hair. The way he bit his lip made you wonder if he was holding himself back. And the waiter arrived with your meals before you could muster a response.

You sat in silence, Jaehyun haphazardly cutting his steak. He refused to look at you.

As you absentmindedly twirled your pasta onto your fork, Jaehyun finally spoke up. “I’m not perfect, and you’re not easy to work with either.”

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t conceal your anger at this sentiment.

Jaehyun met your gaze, eyes determined. “You had to control every part of the project. Had everything your way.”

That, you had heard before. And you absolutely hated it. “We did well on the project because of me,” you said defensively. “Lest you forget.”

The two of you went on bickering like this, angrily finishing your meals and drinks. The waiter hesitantly approached your table, and you demanded the check. The sooner you could leave, the better.

Once paid, you managed to not storm out of the restaurant. But you wore a disgruntled expression and balled your fists.

You reached your work parking lot, and instantly ejected yourself from the Tesla. It wasn’t until you reached your car, however, that you realized that you didn’t have your keys. Probably left it in the passenger seat.

Angrily, you stomped back to Jaehyun’s space where he twirled the keys around his index finger. “I’m not letting you drive. You drank too much.”

You gritted your teeth. “I sobered up plenty.”

Jaehyun approached you and held a square device in front of him. “Well, then you can prove it.”

You yanked the breathalyzer from him, not bothering to ask why he had it. Made sense for someone like him. With a groan, you realized he was right. 0.1.

Not wanting to admit it, you continued your enraged march to the nearby retention pond where a lone bench sat in front of the water. You crossed your arms, and bitterly stared at the water from there.

Jaehyun followed you, leaning onto the back of the bench. “I didn’t know this place existed.”

You laughed bitterly. “It’s because you never leave your desk. You’re always working. Always networking. Always trying something.”

To your surprise, Jaehyun appeared to calm down from earlier. He regained his flawless demeanor. “It takes me a lot longer to do things.”

Well that, that took you off guard. “Doing extra work,” you said, making a weak attempt to correct him.

“No.” After a long pause, he asked, “Do you really hate me?”

His tone made you feel some guilt. “Don’t you hate me?” you shot back, remembering his comments at the restaurant.

“I don’t,” he affirmed. “I never have.”

You considered that. In your college career, you made plenty of enemies with the same behavior. Those times, you ensured yourself, were valid. Those classmates never completed their work and simply didn’t care about the performance. You had been left with ten-page papers to complete on your own. You turned poorly written trash into works professors recommended for publishing. But you knew Jaehyun wasn’t the same as them at least.

Behind Jaehyun, the sun had just begun to set. The sky lit up with orange and pink hues. “I shouldn’t have taken over the project,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. A part of you hoped he wouldn’t hear.

“Oh,” Jaehyun said softly.

You gave him a warning expression. “Do not let that get to your head. You came into this job with an agenda.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Jaehyun groaned. “Where the hell are you getting these ideas from?”

You couldn’t bear to look at him, imagining the smug look on his face as he basically told you that you were crazy. “People like you are always ruthlessly ambitious.”

“And what am I like, then?” Jaehyun mused.

Without skipping a beat, you explained, “Attractive, charming, overcompensating.”

You could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head, and just knew his smug smile made another appearance. He chuckled and said, “Sounds like you.”

“Funny,” you mocked. “Last time I checked; I’m only overcompensating less outwardly.”

He joined you and took a seat on the bench, stretching his arm over the top of the bench. Only inches away from being on your shoulders. Disgusting. “You’re wrong.”

Without prompt, he suggested a game of twenty questions. Jaehyun clarified his intent, stating that perhaps you misunderstood each other. Sensing your doubt, he held his pinky finger out and searched your eyes. You hesitantly connected your pinkies and brought your thumb to your lips, both promising to be truthful.

“Do you think I’m good at my job?” you inquired first, eyes cast out to the sparkling pond.

Almost instantaneously, Jaehyun firmly answered, “Yes.” You concealed your satisfaction, biting your lip to prevent you to smile. “Do you think I’m good at my job?”

You replied almost as quickly, “Of course I do.”

The questions got progressively less serious, some among the likes of favorite movies and which books you were currently reading. Somehow, you felt relaxed. Jaehyun didn’t feel like competition, but rather just a normal stupid boy. He let you have another try at the breathalyzer, and you felt relief in the .05 reading before you. At the same time, you wanted to remain beside him.

“I don’t think I hate you anymore,” you conceded, accepting your words as truth. “If you stop coming off as perfect all the time.

He let out a laugh, a sweet sound of joy and relief. “Hey, you come off as perfect too. You were just quiet around me.” With a devilish grin, Jaehyun ventured, “Is it because you think I’m attractive?”

You glared at him from the corner of your eye. “Are you trying so hard because you find me attractive?” you challenged him.

Jaehyun turned his body to face you. “That depends on whether it’s working.”

Now games like these you didn't mind as much. A harmless game of chicken, testing your limits. Work had its difficulties, but boys? Easy. You cupped his cheek, amazed at how soft his skin felt to the touch. Your eyes met, beckoning the other to try something. "So, this is why you asked me if I was dating anyone?" you dared. "Under the guise of getting to know me and making small talk. I thought someone as perfect as you would have more...subtlety." You let the last word slip out of your mouth slowly. Registering his surprise, you continued, “I don’t forget things easily, hence why I’ve been able to hate you so long.”

Jaehyun grinned cockily, placing your hand on his chest. You felt defined muscles straining against his button-down. Already, you figured his body would match the rest of his veneer. “You really have nerve being out here like this,” Jaehyun overserved, gesturing the office park a short walk away.

“Oh, uncomfortable here?” you drawled playfully, then took his hand. “I know somewhere you may like.”

You felt a wave of confidence wash over you, and you realized this what you assumed Jaehyun had always felt. Then you decided that you’d make it up to him one way or another. He followed you, only letting your hands detach as you got closer to the infamous “B” building you worked in. You noted his nervousness and gave him a reassuring smile. “Trust me,” you urged.

Entering through the side door, you managed to avoid security. Your entry would appear on a log, but you could easily bristle over it and say that you forgot your laptop at your desk. Most of your coworkers avoided the stairs, so you led Jaehyun away from the elevator. Though, you had forgotten that you were wearing heels. You struggled up the steps by the second flight, clinging onto the railing for dear life. Jaehyun noted this, but said nothing as he swept you into his arms.

“I wish you did on the first floor,” you joked. “Or maybe I could’ve just taken them off.”

Jaehyun refused to let you down until you reached the fourth floor. Whenever you found yourself in a vulnerable state, you hid out beside the decommissioned wing. The unused nursing room featured its own bathroom and a small futon. Having visited the location so often, you knew that the cleaning staff rarely came by. You asked once and discovered that they only visit at the beginning of the month. No one else ever came by in your experience. It appeared that only you knew about this place, and now Jaehyun. “This is where you run away to,” he deciphered. “I always thought it was the café.”

“I prefer privacy.” You leaned against the door as Jaehyun took in his surroundings. “And I wanted to go somewhere you couldn’t find me.”

He fell back onto the futon, looking at you in awe. “Just when I think I know you.”

You fumbled for the lock behind you until you heard a distinct click. “Do you remember when you first met me? When I was so stupid and got lost?”

Jaehyun rose, appearing concerned. “I didn’t know. I just thought you were cute.”

He cornered you against the door, body close enough to feel your shaky breath. All that time just hating him when you could’ve been seducing him for the purpose of hindering his goals and ultimately find the truth much sooner. You wasted so much time, held so much resentment. In front of you, you saw a seemingly perfect boy study your movements, waiting. A position you would have never imagined yourself mere hours before. Yet, you saw it all in hindsight and perhaps always knew the truth. It was then that you decided that you didn’t want to play games anymore or mull over an agenda.

Jaehyun angled his chin downwards, gazing into your eyes with a mix of emotions. Excitement, fear, desire. You kissed him, gently and slowly. More carefully, you wanted to know him in this way. Feel the way his lips moved against yours, his increasing heart rate. He rested his hands on your hips, gripping them as if he couldn’t support himself without them. Soon after, you wrapped your arms around his neck and gradually deepened the kiss. These moments you shared felt like high school, so unassuming and simple.

You pulled away, resting your forehead on his. You caught your breath and entangled your fingers with his. “I’m sorry,” you murmured.

He idled, drawing kisses down your cheek and neck. “For what?” Jaehyun ventured.

“For not knowing you until now, and maybe still not knowing you.”

With his thumb, he drew circles on the back of your hand. “Do you want to know more?” he asked, his voice quietly sultry.

“Yes,” you whispered. With this admission, Jaehyun’s butterfly kisses became more daunting. He crashed his lips upon yours and held you closer. Your tongues soon met, messier and carelessly. Feeling daring, you ran your hand under his shirt, digging your fingernails against his abs. A bit lower, and you realized he was straining against his slacks.

Jaehyun bucked under your touch, gasping against your lips. You gripped his clothed cock with more certainty than before and Jaehyun fumbled to reach your breast. Still against the door, you held each other. “We’re lucky this room is soundproof,” you commented, noting your precarious position.

Not waiting for his response, you quickly undid Jaehyun’s belt followed by his zipper. You tugged his pants to his ankles and brought your attention to boxer-brief covered erection as you supported yourself on your knees. Laying a flat tongue against his balls, you drew a line from shaft to tip. He sucked in a sharp breath and watched you with hungry eyes as you finally removed the final layer of clothing.

His erection sprung upwards, precum already forming. Zealously, you took the tip into your mouth and ran your tongue over the wet slit. You leaned back, seeing Jaehyun absolutely desperate as he stood over you. Continuing, you wet his dick with sloppy kisses. You wanted him to have everything, feel every part of your mouth. With one hand on the base, you craned your neck to take in more of him from the tip. You used your whole body to rock your mouth further down his dick. When he reached the back of your throat, you gagged slightly but didn’t care. Gently at first, he began to rock his hips. Becoming restless, Jaehyun held your head and pushed his erection further down your throat with messy thrusts. You looked at him with wide eyes, conveying for him to continue.

Jaehyun instead picked you up as if you weighed nothing and placed you precariously on the couch. While naked from the waist down, you were still fully clothed. Wasting no time, Jaehyun ripped your blouse off - buttons and all flying wildly around the room. He pulled your bra cup down to reveal a nipple, to which he immediately pinched between his fingers. Already excited, he removed your black jeans and panties. Jaehyun lowered himself to your glistening pussy and brought a digit to his mouth before pushing it inside you. The penetration left you unwinding as he added another finger. He curled his fingers upwards, each push and pull hitting your g-spot. As you thrashed, he held you down with a firm hand, especially after he began sucking on your clit. In mere minutes, he brought you to your orgasm. You wished you had the words to describe the way you felt that immense pleasure, but nothing would ever be sufficient.

Breathlessly you beckoned Jaehyun to the bathroom. “I have an IUD,” you confirmed. With your new found trust, you knew Jaehyun wouldn’t even attempt to sleep with you if he had an STD. There, you gazed at him from the mirror. Watched him approach you and run his hands up and down your body. He positioned one leg so that you were half propped over the sink and still standing on the other. Jaehyun’s dick teased your aching pussy as he dragged it from your folds to your clit to your entrance. Both facing the mirror, your eyes locked as Jaehyun pushed himself fully in you. You both drew in strained breaths. Once he ensured that you adjusted, he fucked you. Neither of you ever watched yourselves have sex, but you were even more turned on watching Jaehyun clutch onto your tit and whisper obscenities in your ear.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he growled, burying himself deeper in you.

Jaehyun slowed his pace, suddenly lifting you and pushing you against the wall. He supported your entire weight as he fucked you there.

“I’m going to ride you,” you said breathily, to which Jaehyun obliged immediately. He sat up straight on the futon, leading you to his cock once more. In that position, you put yourself to work. You bounced atop his dick, only stopping to grind your clit against his pelvis. You came unexpectedly, the sensation getting fucked and stimulating your clit becoming too much for you. Jaehyun and you both were surprised when a stream of liquid sprung out of you.

With his mouth agape, Jaehyun looked at you. “You can squirt?”

Before that moment, you would’ve answered that no, you couldn’t squirt since you never had. Until then. He registered your shock and turned you so that your back rested against the futon. Jaehyun hovered over you, hair askew and face reddened. You imagined that you appeared the same. He kissed you, breathing “I don’t know how I got so lucky,” on your lips.

Jaehyun unraveled quickly in this position, and you urged him to come on your tits. Following his orgasm, you attempted to clean yourselves up in the bathroom. “Everything smells like sex,” you observed, frivilously spraying Febreeze everywhere you could. Between futon cushions. The door handle, Jaehyun’s general direction. You didn’t realize you were shirtless until you saw a mess of buttons on the floor.

A weak solution, but Jaehyun offered you his suit jacket. You’d have to walk out of the building crossing your arms and praying a nipple wouldn’t escape, but something. Once the room was clean, Jaehyun and you fine-tuned your own appearances in the bathroom. Neither of you looked refined or polished, but human.

“I want more,” you admitted.

At the same time, Jaehyun asked, “Can I buy you dinner?”

You shook your head. This version of Jaehyun, the one messily fucking you in an office nursing room, you preferred. “I just want to spend time with you.”

Jaehyun smiled and agreed.

You left the room separately as to not arouse any suspicion. Jaehyun met you outside your car, once more carelessly spinning your keys. The sun had set by that time, leaving you both shrouded in moonlight. Despite the sun’s absence the air remained warm and inviting. “We’re going stargazing,” you decided. “After we change.”

Jaehyun arrived at the agreed upon park first, sporting a loose shirt and Adidas joggers. You never had seen him dressed so casually. He already set up a blanket at the top of the hill and rested on his back.

You wore a nearly identical outfit, and went without makeup. Normally, you hated it when your partners saw you without anything on. But you wanted Jaehyun to see this part of you, too. Despite living in a well-populated city, the stars appeared very clearly that night alongside a waxing crescent moon.

“Do you think the managers set us up?” Jaehyun pondered, wrapping an arm around your waist as you joined him.

“Without a doubt. And we’ll probably have to tell them about this at some point.”

And he kissed you again. How many times that night, you lost count. Looking at him, the image of the boy you met months ago flashed before your eyes. The one with the suit, the dashing smile, and dough-like dimples. You, a nervous wreck getting in her own way.

You fell asleep on his shoulder that night, head buried in his neck as he snored quietly.

#jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct #nct 127 #nct u #jaehyun fic #jung jaehyun fic #nct fic #nct fluff #nct smut #jaehyun smut #jaehyun writing #jaehyun scenario #my writing

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visionsofus · 3 years

Note

Hey, my city has just been put into lockdown :( so I thought I might send a prompt... maybe something about some of the times Vision phases through Wandas wall? Idk but I hope you're well and I love your writing :)

hello! I am so sorry to hear that your city has been put into lockdown! I hope you are staying safe and looking after yourself. I bumped this to the top of my list so I could get you something nice to read quickly. It's mainly about Vision comforting Wanda but I hope it brings you some comfort too!

Mixtape track # 28: Time After Time cover by Theresa Sokyrka, Jesse Brown

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you

synopsis: Three times Vision phased into Wanda's room unannounced and found her in varying states of disarray/ injury. Aka a fluffy comfort fic for those of you who need it.

Warnings: mentions of blood and stitches, illness (flu), mild swearing

Vision was sitting at the kitchen counter, a novel before him when Steve hurried into the kitchen and began rooting through cabinets. Vision placed a finger to mark his page and glanced up in confusion.

“Is there something you need help with, Captain?” He asked, curious at Steve’s haste. The captain jumped visibly, and Vision looked down sheepishly. The team was yet to grow accustomed to his presence in the Compound and he was still learning to be something like human. It was a slow process.

“Vision,” Steve said, a hand pressed to his chest in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Vision nodded. “What are you looking for?”

“Cold and flu medicine,” Steve replied, turning back to the cabinets and pushing aside two different bags of coffee beans and a pot of sugar. His hand scraped around the back of the shelf to no avail. “I know we had some here somewhere.”

Vision tilted his head curiously. There weren’t many at the compound who could fall ill, Steve and himself included. Tony was away with Rhodey in New York for the weekend, Clint was with his family, and from what Vision knew of Natasha, she didn’t seem the kind of person to accept medicine.

That only left one other person in the enormous building he now called home.

“Is Wanda okay?” Vision asked his voice sound slightly strained, even to his own ears. He hadn’t quite mastered control over tone yet but was getting better at identifying such markers in other’s speech.

“She’s okay,” Steve mulled as he moved things around, moving to another cupboard. Vision heard the concern in his voice. Forgetting his page, he shut his book all thoughts now directed to Wanda. Where could she have contracted an illness? Perhaps it was overworking, of all of them, Wanda pushed herself the hardest. The last few weeks had been particularly rough with training every day, minor missions interstate, and relentless press appearances.

“Aha!” Steve cried in triumph, holding up a packet of cold and flu tablets.

“I can take them to her,” Vision said jumping to his feet and moving swiftly to Steve’s side, a glass in his hand ready to fill with water for Wanda. Steve jerked back a little, evidently, he was still not adjusted to the synthezoid’s super speed.

“Okay,” Steve sounded hesitant as he passed over the thin package. “Don’t smother her, alright? She’s not in a very good mood.”

“I won’t,” Vision said pleased as he filled up the glass with water and headed off down the corridor. As he walked, he quickly had a look at what ‘smothering’ meant – why Steve thought he might cover Wanda’s head with a pillow, Vision couldn’t understand. A little more looking revealed it could also mean overwhelm. Vision shook his head, he would make every effort to not overwhelm her, he just wanted to make sure she was comfortable and provide anything that might make her feel better.

Out of Steve’s sight, he hurried quickly down the corridor that led to Wanda’s bedroom. Once he was close enough to her bedroom he phased effortlessly through the wall, bringing the water and pills with him.

He arrived in her room to find that the lights were out and the curtains drawn despite it being mid-morning.

“Vision?” Wanda exclaimed, or tried to. Her voice cracked and she coughed most of the way through his name.

He hurried to the other side of her bed, concerned to see her covers pulled up to her chin even as sweat made her forehead shine.

“What did I saw about knocking?” Wanda said, her voice hoarse, her eyes struggling to stay open.

“That I should?” Vision said hesitantly.

Wanda murmured something in affirmation, and he felt guilty.

“Sorry, I will next time. I brought you some medicine.” He set the glass of water on her bedside table which was cluttered with tissues, empty glasses and unfinished books.

“Don’t need it, thanks,” Wanda murmured, turning onto her side.

Vision sighed. She looked dreadful, which was saying something as he rarely found her anything but beautiful. Concerned, he slowly reached out to press his hand to her forehead. Wanda shivered, feverish.

“You have a high temperature; the medicine will make you feel better.”

Wanda opened her eyes blearily and huffed in frustration. She heaved herself up to lean against the headboard and held a hand out for the pills. Vision popped two of the night pills into her palm before extending the water glass. She swallowed the medicine and shivered again.

“When did you start feeling bad?” Vision asked, trying to make conversation as he hovered about her room, not yet ready to leave her in such a state.

“Last night, but woke up feeling like the plague this morning,” Wanda mumbled, slipping back down onto the pillow. He moved forward to pull her pillow up so she was more comfortable.

“Okay, well we’ll keep an eye on your fever,” he said nervously more to himself, feeling the need to speak the instructions he had read about online aloud. But Wanda’s eyes were already closed, and it seemed she was relenting to an exhausted slumber.

Vision bit his lip, unsure if he were allowed to stay in her room while she was asleep. Glancing at her bedside table he decided to at least clean up on his way out. With the empty glasses stacked and the tissues in the bin he set about opening up a window a little bit to allow for some circulation. Even if Wanda felt cold, her fever needed to come down. Finally, unable to see a reason to stay Vision went over to adjust her blankets. Seeing that she was peacefully asleep he pressed his palm to her forehead, glad to feel that she felt a little bit less warm. She murmured something sleepily but didn’t wake.

Vision returned to her wall with the glasses in hand and phased through it once more, leaving Wanda to her fever dreams. For the remainder of the day, he kept a keen eye on Wanda, phasing through her wall each hour to take her temperature and replace her water glass. She remained asleep or at least didn’t acknowledge his care, though each time he left her mouth twitched up at the corners.

“Wanda!” Vision’s voice was a singsong as he phased through her bedroom wall, eager for their promised game of chess. He had taken up teaching her the game not long after he had learnt it himself. There was no one at the compound who could play that well but he always had fun with Wanda. Even when Vision knew all the tricks, she still surprised him. In exchange they had been following up each game with a few episodes of the Dick Van Dyke show. It was their Saturday night ritual now, though they had only known each other 6 months. Wanda had only just returned from the mission she had been on with Steve and Nat. Perhaps chess was off the table, but he hoped she would let him keep her company and watch some television. Vision struggled to understand how keenly he had felt her absence in the past week.

He phased through the wall and for a moment his sight was clouded. He emerged into the bedroom that he had slowly been acquainted with. Vision knew the view from her windows, the books on her desk, her guitar in the corner and the pattern of her bedsheets. His eyes checked off each of these features before looking to the bed. His heart dropped sickeningly when he caught sight of the figure laying atop the covers.

Wanda had propped herself against the headboard, her mouth twisted in pain as she nursed a gash that was bleeding all down her left arm.

“Wanda?” Vision whispered. Her eyes opened weakly, and she grimaced a smile.

“Hi.”

Vision was at her side instantly. “Hi? What do you mean hi? Are you okay what happened—”

“Shhh,” Wanda whispered, reaching out to grab his arm and squeeze. “Don’t want the others to know.”

“What do you mean?” Vision asked furiously. “You’re hurt, why didn’t you go the med bay when you got back?”

“Please,” she turned her eyes on him and he registered the pain behind her gaze. “Help me and I’ll answer any questions you want. I tried,” she gestured to the trail of thread she’d been using to stitch herself up with, “but my hands are too shaky.”

He ignored that she was half undressed, more focused on how her blood had soaked through the left side of her top and was dripping onto her bed. Vision spared less than a second before he was speeding away from her side. He trusted Wanda, if she said that she didn’t want the others knowing then he would wait to hear her reasoning. For now, he just wanted to alleviate her pain.

He thanked the gods for his super speed as he dashed down the corridor, down the stairs through two walls and into the empty med bay. He dipped in and out of the internet finding a reputable source for stitching up a wound even as he lectured himself for not understanding such an important procedure sooner. He grabbed more supplies, gauze and bandages, antiseptic and a fresh needle and tweezers. He sped back upstairs and arrived in Wanda’s room just as she was swiping tears away from her eyes.

“Sorry,” she winced, trying to sit up better as he set his supplies on her bedside table.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Vision said soothingly. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

“You weren’t supposed to see,” Wanda sighed, her eyes closed as he set about propping her arm up with a pillow and a fresh towel to mop up the blood.

“Lucky I entered without announcing myself then,” Vision murmured perching himself next to her tense body. He wasn’t usually squeamish and managed to maintain a distance when it came to gore. But seeing Wanda’s blood trickling down her arm had his heart thumping far too quickly. He took a few calming breaths.

Vision straightened her arm and watched her forehead contort in pain, sweat beading. Silently he took the medical scissors and cut off the thread and the mess Wanda had made of her wound. On closer inspection he was relieved to see it wasn’t too deep and that the blood had stopped flowing. He cleaned and numbed the area.

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” Vision murmured as he helped her sit up taller, so she was at a better angle for the stitches.

“Feels bad enough,” Wanda winced.

He frowned at her pain. “Tell me about your favourite episode of Dick Van Dyke,” Vision prompted as he set about threading the needle. Wisely, Wanda decided to turn her attention to her sweeping windows and the clouds drifting across the amber sky.

“Season 2, episode 20,” Wanda said. “It’s not necessarily my favourite but it’s the episode I’ve seen the most. Rob watches this movie with aliens and monsters, it was scary for me as a kid, but I found it funny how out of control it became—” Wanda broke off with a pained groan as Vision began the first stitch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Now it doesn’t scare me but it’s still eerie...” she trailed off to prepare for the next stitch. Moments later it was done, and she breathed out slowly as Vision tugged the thread gently, closing the wound.

“— it’s interesting to look back on the episode and –” She thumped her other first on her thigh as the needle dug in once more.

“—and see how far my life has changed since I first watched it – oh fuck that!”

Vision startled, not used to hearing her swear. “Two more and it’ll be done,” Vision replied, conscious that he was leaning over her torso and that there might have been easier ways to sit for stitching up the gash.

“Two more?” Wanda sighed her right shoulder slumping in defeat.

“Almost there, almost there,” he murmured soothingly, starting on the next stitch. Wanda cried out, biting her fist. His heart twinged painfully in sympathy.

“You’re okay,” Vision said, doing his best to be comfortingly. “One more and then it’s done, one more and it’ll be over.”

He continued to murmur small comforts, hoping his voice would distract her from the thin metal dipping in and out of her skin. Despite her pain he had successfully kept the stitches neat and hoped that they’d be suitable enough for healing. At least he had used the thread that dissolved as the wound healed and she could avoid the new pain of having them taken out once more.

As he pushed the needle in for the final stitch Wanda’s head lolled against his neck. He froze in fear.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, “just, keep going.”

Her head remained pressed into the crook of his neck, her breath warming his skin in slow, controlled breaths. Vision did his best to focus on finishing off his work. He completed the final stitch, tied it up and cut the needle free. As he moved his materials to her bedside table and picked up the gauze, he became conscious of Wanda’s shoulders shaking slowly.

“Sorry,” she said quietly, her voice thick with tears.

“It’s alright, Wanda,” Vision said with a comforting smile, though she didn’t raise her head. He raised a hand and gently stroked the back of her head in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “I’ll wrap your arm up and give you something for the pain.”

Wanda sniffled against his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re the only one who can phase through physical walls.”

Vision smiled happily; glad Wanda couldn’t see his reaction.

Vision hovered; his hand raised to knock on Wanda’s bedroom door. He’d been standing there for a few moments debating on whether or not to disturb her when he’d heard the soft noises of Wanda’s cries. Vision knew how she sounded when she was upset. In the year they had been living together there had been a few nights he had spent sitting outside her door, listening to her cry and waiting for her to fall asleep. Often, all she’d allow him to do was bring her food or a cup of tea, insisting she be left to her sorrows. But Vision was struggling to bear it tonight. He worried that she thought herself a burden, that she locked herself up in her room on her bad days as a way to save the rest of the team from her anguish. But Vision hated seeing, or hearing, her pain.

Unable to wait any longer Vision side stepped the door and phased right through the wood. The room was dark, and the air was still, Wanda hadn’t left her bed all day. Quietly, Vision walked slowly to her bedside and crouched beside her curled up form. The covers were pulled up over her head, her arms wrapped around one of her cushions. His throat grew tight with emotion as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Wanda?” He whispered. The covers shifted and her head emerged, tear tracks looked as though they had made permanent lines down her face, dark circles hung under her eyes.

She didn’t say anything, just rolled over so that her back was to him.

“Is there anything that you need?” Vision asked removing his hand, hesitant to take her rejection, he’d wait until she explicitly asked him to leave. Wanda didn’t reply, her breath catching in her throat, and she shook her head slowly.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Vision said quietly.

“I don’t want to bother anyone,” Wanda whispered, her voice hoarse from not speaking. Vision raised to stand, hovering next to her bed. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her close, to banish all her sadness and protect her from fear.

“You could never be a burden to me, it is a privilege to be a part of your life.” His words sounded raw, even to his own ears and he heard Wanda hiccup emotionally.

It didn’t take much, just her hand emerging from beneath the covers to tug at the hem of his woollen sweater. It was all he needed to know she wanted him to say.

She shifted to make room and Vision settled onto the bed next to her. Almost reluctantly, Wanda slid closer though her face was still hidden. When he was close enough, he pulled a blanket from the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders. She leant in, sniffling tearily. When he held his arms open, she hesitated for a few moments, her body stiff with tension. Finally, she relented, pressing her forehead into his shoulder and allowing him to wrap her in his warm arms. The tears started again, and he rocked them back and forth as she trembled.

“It’s alright,” Vision whispered over and over. He rubbed a hand in circles on her back, holding her close.

They remained that way for a while, Vision let her cry as much as she needed, not feeling the need to ask what was causing her such anguish. She would tell him when she was ready.

“When you’re feeling up for it, we can go for a walk,” Vision said soothingly, “there are wildflowers out by the woods, I even saw some bluebells the other morning. Maybe you can point out some other flowers you recognise to me. I think the birds miss you out there.” He talked slowly about small things, none of them important but gradually her sobs slowed into hiccups.

“Thank you,” Wanda whispered into his shoulders, her hands tangled up in his jumper.

“It’s okay,” Vision said softly, “just because your brain tells you you’re alone, doesn’t mean it’s true. There are so many people who care about you. Whenever you need me, I’ll always be here.”

#WandaVision fanfiction #scarletvision fanfiction #wanda x vision #scarletvision #wandavision #vision x wanda #mcu fanfiction #scarletvision fic #comfort fic #visionsofusfics #fluff and comfort

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praphit · 3 years

Text

The Matrix REZs: JC and the hot GF

(This is one hell of a poster. Look at’em. I’d love to see them in concert.)

In the first movie, we had choices to contemplate:

The red pill? or the blue pill? A hard truth? or a comfortable lie? Free will? or fate? Focus on the mission? or keep checking out the woman in the red dress?

(”Good God Almighty.”)

It's been 20+ years since that movie, and we're still mulling over which is better.

Is it my choice to write this review? or am I simply carrying out my programming? Are you choosing to read this post? or has boredom and content-craving become part of your design?

Thinking about this type of stuff will give you a headache, if you let it. I certainly got a headache trying to follow this movie. I'll try not to lead you down paths that will give you a headache as well.

So, there's already one strike against this film, because it's one of these sequels where you had to have seen the movies before it. But, if by some oddity, you haven't seen any, here's a recap... you know what?? - there's no clean way to recap without giving you a headache; let's just say this:

The Matrix = control/programming Neo = idk... Jesus Christ (Just for help with understanding. All of you religious and anti-religious zealots, calm down) Trinity = JC's hot girlfriend

(I'm just wondering... if someone brought some woman who looked liked Trinity to meet their folks, if those parents would be concerned.

"We met at a convention." What the hell kind of convention was that? Yeah, I'd be concerned.)

JC dies to save us all (his hot gf dies too, in the process), there was a super-charged JC out and about for a while,

(See what’s happening behind him?? Cuz he’s too powerful. That’s why Jesus in the bible never flew.)

but then he was gone (some suspected, dead) and as time passed the people he saved forgot everything they had been taught, and that they were ever set free in the first place.

But, now! - it's resurrection time, baby! C'mon and get some.

Turns out that Neo is not dead; neither is Trinity... I mean... they WERE dead, but... "how?" and "why?" they were brought back... it's like... there's this villain to be revealed, and a video game... that is now what their past was, so... what's real isn't really real, but it is... but it's kinda like a dream, but currently we're in a reboot... kinda... but there was a purge... are you getting a headache? Mine's getting worse, so let's skip over that thinking to a different path.

Good ol’-Not-dead-Neo and Trinity need help getting away from the Matrix again, but thankfully there's a remnant of believers:

This blue-haired lady

I firmly believe that we all need to try her hairstyle at some point in life. If you grasp nothing else from this movie, grasp that. Come home one day with her hair. I’m in love with it.

There's Morpheus (we all know him)

Wait, that's not MY Morpheus...

Let me see the poster again... cuz I thought...

Yeah, that's Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, alright... dressed up like The Joker.

Yep, Morpheus got himself a new body and a new sense of style.... well, it’s kinda him.... but not really. It’d be cool if you knew you were getting a new body down the rode, right?? I wonder how many of us would deliberately wreck the old ones when they suspected the new one was coming soon? Drugs, booze, and Orgies at McDonald's!

Then there are "the others" - Kids, it's always important to have "the others" around to take most of the bullets, probably die, and get you coffee. #lifehack

Goal: find Neo, so he can save us AGAIN and rewrite some more freeing "code" AGAIN.

Why AGAIN? How did Neo and Trinity get trapped? What's going on with Neo's super-charged powers? How and why is Agent Smith back?

Why does he look different too? Where’s the dude from The Lord of the Rings movies?

What happened to that actor? A video game? really? Why has it taken 20+ years for them to find him? Wait, it's been longer (you learn this in the movie)? So, you're telling me that keeping Neo and Trinity together is needed for energy (also learned in the movie), but they can't get too close, or.... i don't even know... it could foil the villain's plans, but he or she is going to risk it anyway? WHAT? HOW? WHY? NO, REALLY, WHY?

All excellent questions. And all in the bin of questions (and there are a lot of them) which will lead you to a headache. So, let's skip over these as well.

Imagine JC leaves, and when he comes back to Earth, He finds that we're a hot, stinky mess. Don't strain yourself imagining that. Why would He bother saving us again? Well, that's so God, and apparently, so Neo... well, kinda... it's more about Trinity, now that I think ab out it. In fact, now that I think about it... it's not really about the people at all. Not that Neo doesn't care, but.... Everything is about Neo and his hot girlfriend. The people are there to be in awe of his bullet-stopping-kungfu powers, and maybe once in a while they'll get to participate in some action, but it's just about getting some sweet Trinity lovin'.

We can relate, right?? You might be thinking to yourself "My family and I are having some problems... my friends too. I love the person I'm with, but... wait, is that Will Smith over there? I hear he's got some Jada-tension. What if he falls in love with ME? Then, him, his money, and I can take care of the rest of my family and friend’s problems, right? Of course, I'm right. Damn he's hot. It's all about him. Eye on the prize. Consequences be damned!"

We've all been there. In Neo's mind, getting to Trinity, saves us too... or... or it's just been 20+ years or decades since... you know.

""What about the plot?" you ask? - that sounds like a question. I mean, that's pretty much it. Neo tries to connect with Trin in the middle of a meta tsunami of nostalgia. "At least there's some cool fighting and effects, right?" yeah, sorta, but a lot of it is the same stuff you saw in the other movies.

"Why didn't they do more new shit?" What have I told you about asking questions? Just take solace in the fact that if Neo and Trinity get together, they can free the people from control? And somehow find a new way... to control ("control" sounds bad)... um, a way to structure (does that still sound bad?)... they will give us a new way AGAIN, that somehow will last this time, and NOT be oppressive to anyone... somehow...

Grade:

When you think about it, it's always been a love story. Neo needed Trin to become like JC, and Trin n... well, she didn't really NEED Neo at all. She was always a hot girlfriend for someone. And she didn't even really need the "someone", she could have just been badass and hot, BUT Neo provided a state of settlement, right? You can't just be hot and hoeing it up for ever, or can you? Maybe you can. idk. Point is, they need one another. They’re stronger together. And this fight for love is the story that was and continues through this movie... only making less sense, using stale fighting moves, having no plot, and less of the characters that we love. That's all.

I do love Keanu and Carrie though. Slow-motion is always cool. AND blue hair , baby!

a generous D-

It pains me to give this grade to a Keanu movie, but am I choosing to give this movie a generous D- or was I always going to give it that grade, no matter what? Should Keanu be disappointed in a person like me giving it this type of review?, or mad at fate?

I could try to answer those questions, but my headache is finally gone, and I choose to keep it that way.

#matrix resurrections #Matrix #johnpraphit #praphitproductions.com #Neo #KeanuReeves #Carrie Anne Moss #Praphit #action movies #Movie Reviews #salvation #God #freewill #fate #girlfriends #trinity #videogames #philosophy

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fanficnewbie · 4 years

Text

Sienna Weighs in P9

OPEN HEART: SECOND YEAR - CHAPTER NINE

(ETHAN x FEMALE MC)

MC is Dr. Francesca Houseman *This entry takes place two days after the Mass Kenmore heist. (This is a chapter by chapter series…)

Baz starts to question Francesca and Ethan’s relationship.

To anyone who may have noticed how late I am with this installment, thanks for your patience. I think I needed to write this when I knew OHB2 was coming back online.

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS Chapter 1: MC tells Sienna about her Ethan convo at Donahue’s. Chapter 2: MC and Sienna discuss Ethan’s gym routine. Chapter 3: MC questions how well she really knows Ethan. Chapter 4: MC takes Elijah and Sienna to see Evelyn’s exhibit. Chapter 5: Sienna talks MC through a panic attack over Ethan. Chapter 6: Sienna cheers on MC for standing up to Ethan. Chapter 7: MC confides in Sienna how she met Ethan’s mother. Chapter 8: MC has to the consequences after the baseball game.

Word Count: 1935 Rated: Teen

*** Francesca closed her eyes against the crisp breeze as it rushed past her face. For the first time in the past few weeks she felt a sense of contentment. She had gotten her revenge on Mass Kenmore, both by beating them at the softball game and stealing the Senator from them. She was back on good terms with Aurora, Kyra was scheduled for her life saving surgery, and Ethan had passionately kissed her not once, but twice.

“Why are you smiling?”

She turned to Baz who was strolling next to her, “I’m just,... I’m excited for ice cream.”

Baz arched his eyebrow, “It’s really that good, huh?”

“Yes, and you must order ‘Death by Chocolate’. No questions asked.”

“Well, at least I’m guaranteed to die happy.” Baz laughed as the small shop came into view.

He was someone else Francesca was grateful for. A true ally, someone who didn’t pretend to be anything other than what he was (unless he was pretending to be Zaid). Their hospital heist had brought them closer together, reinforcing their growing bond. Still unsure of June’s true motives, Francesca at least knew she could now trust one other person on the team.

Sienna looked up as they walked into the ice cream shop, she smiled and waved them over to her table, “Hey, you two!”

And of course there was Sienna. There were hardly words to express how much she meant to Francesca, and after their softball game fallout, she was almost happiest of all that their friendship was back on track.

Francesca sat down, “Hey there. You got my text about Baz joining us right? I owe him this treat.”

Baz grabbed a menu as he sat, “Yes, to celebrate the sweet success of our latest win over Mass Kenmore.”

Sienna giggled, “Yes, I did and I’m glad you could join us Dr. Mirani. You guys are bona fide heroes! The whole hospital has been talking about your coup. I still can’t believe you managed to pull it off.”

“Well, we had quite a bit of luck on our side.”

“Yes, and his name is Dr. Ethan Ramsey.” Baz put down the menu, it’s obviously a ‘Death by chocolate’ hot fudge sundae for me. Do you guys know what you want?”

Francesca and Sienna gave him their selections as he got up to order from the counter. As soon as he was out of ear shot, Francesca lowered her voice and leaned in excitedly, “I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but Ethan kissed me again the other day!”

Sienna didn’t even try to hide her glee, “What?! How?! When?!”

Francesca looked over her shoulder to make sure that Baz was still out of hearing range, “At Mass Kenmore! We were about to get caught by someone on staff and needed a distraction. Next thing I know, his body is pressed against mine and his tongue is in my mouth! It was unexpected, and hot, and crazy, and glorious!”

“What was crazy and glorious?” Baz smiled as he reappeared, handing them each a bottle of water.

“Uh, our revenge on Mass Kenmore. A patient stolen for a patient stolen.”

“Hear, hear!” Sienna held up her bottle in a mock cheers. “To the best Diagnostics team in Boston!”

The three laughed as they knocked their bottles together, then settled into an easy banter about hospital life, clueless interns and difficult patients until their ice cream was served. Baz took a bite, “Okay, this is heavenly. Your friend who recommended it is my new best friend.”

Francesca shifted uncomfortably as Sienna leaned over to pat her arm, “She’ll get through the surgery, she’ll be okay.”

Baz shook his head, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I wasn’t thinking.”

Francesca smiled, “No, it’s fine. It’s not like Kyra isn’t constantly on my mind already. Part of the reason I wanted to come here is because it reminds me of her. I know she’d be happy to know that we’re celebrating a small success. We have to enjoy them as they come.”

Baz nodded, “We do, we really do.”

There was a short silence as they continued eating until Sienna spoke up, “Hey, Aurora told me that you guys are okay again. I’m so glad to hear it.”

Baz chuckled, “Yeah, that was crazy. I thought we were done for sure when I saw her. Based on what I overheard at the softball game, it sounded like she owed you one Francesca.”

Francesca bit her lip, “Yeah, I guess she did.”

Baz finished his ice cream in astonishingly short order and pushed his cup away, “Okay, Francesca, I have a question for you.”

She turned to him with her spoon in her mouth.

“What’s going on between you and Ethan?”

Francesca exchanged a quick but panicked look with Senna before she answered, “What do you even mean?”

Baz shrugged, “I never really noticed or thought about it until June said something---”

“June?!” Francesca was still processing that June would be talking to Baz about her and Ethan as Baz answered, “Yeah, she mentioned something about how you guys have history.”

They both turned to Sienna when she started to laugh, “Of course they have history. Where have you been? Together they saved Dr. Banjeri’s life.”

Baz mulled her words for a bit, “Well, yeah, there’s definitely that. But I’m not sure it explains everything else…”

Francesca tried her best to sound casual, “What’s everything else?”

“For one, he’s chosen to take you out in the field each time we’ve had a patient require it since you joined the team.”

“She’s new!” Sienna chimed in, “He’s obviously exposing her to those opportunities as part of her training.”

Baz nodded, “Okay, but the way you yelled at him when we were at Leland Bloom’s house. I mean, it was awesome but, how’d you get away with it?”

Francesca started to answer, but hesitated as she struggled to come up with something plausible.

“But she didn’t get away with it.” Francesca turned to Sienna who subtly motioned for her to go along, “Remember you told me how he laid into you later in private?”

Francesca’s eyes widened with false recognition, “Yeah, yeah, he admitted he was wrong but also totally disapproved of how I handled the situation. You and June just weren’t there to witness that part. He said he didn’t want to stoop to my level.”

Baz mulled it over, “Huh. That does sound like him.”

Sienna took her last bite of ice cream nodding, “Exactly, it totally does.”

Undeterred, Baz continued, his curiosity and obliviousness blinding him to the growing anxiety at the table. “Well, how did you get him to play softball? That was also pretty out of character.”

Francesca was thankful for an easy out, “Oh my God, that was crazy simple. I just offered him the chance to humiliate Tobias!”

Baz laughed, “Yeah, that would have been a quick sell. Hmmm, I guess it also explains his part in our Mass Kenmore excursion? Making Tobias look bad?”

Francesca quickly assented, “Yes! That’s an angle I intend to play for as long as I can. So far it’s worked out for us really well.”

Sienna clasped her hands together, “See Baz?! There’s nothing out of the ordinary. It looks to me like June is causing unnecessary drama.”

Baz chewed on his lip, “Yeah, she can be … interesting.”

Francesca sighed, “That’s the understatement of the year.”

Leaning back Baz looked at both women and grinned. “Well, I’m glad I got that all cleared up. Zaid told me I was crazy when I mentioned it to him. But Zaid is constantly telling me I’m crazy, so I never exactly know when he’s being serious or not.”

Sienna frowned, “We just tend to assume he’s always being serious.”

“You asked Zaid? Did you ask anyone else?”

Baz shook his head “Nope! You offered me ice cream later that day so I figured I’d just bring it up with you, well, now!” He shrugged, “I’m normally not one to look into things like this but we’re a small team, and things are already tenuous and, well, I just needed to know that we’re all on equal footing.”

He stood up, “Okay, I’m going to go hit the little boys room, I’ll meet you out front.”

Sienna turned to Francesca wide-eyed as he walked away, “Holy cow, that was a close one!”

Francesca grabbed her purse and headed to the counter to pay, “I really need to figure out June’s game. What the hell? Who else is she talking to?”

Sienna nodded, “You should mention it to Ethan and get his take. You know, when you guys aren’t busy sucking face.” She giggled when Francesca rolled her eyes as they walked towards the door.

“Argh! It seems like there’s always some looming dark cloud threatening everything, and I just hate it all so much. Walking in here I felt lighter than I had in weeks but now, I feel the weight on my shoulders all over again. In so many ways things are improving, but at the same time, I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Like you’re at a crossroads where things can go either really great or really bad, and you’re still waiting for directions on which way to turn.”

Francesca looked up surprised, “You feel it too?”

Sienna nodded, “I do. Between the fate of the hospital and Kyra, and everything else, it’s hard not too.”

They were met with Baz’s smiling face as he walked out of the shop, “Much better!” His expression slipped as he saw their faces, “What’s wrong?”

Francesca shook her head, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked at him. “Baz, I have a question for you.”

“Shoot!”

“How do you stay so above it all? So nonchalant and, well, happy, when everything around us is on the verge of collapse?”

Baz took a thoughtful breath, “Part of it is that the ‘doom and gloom’ gene went to my brother. The other part of it is that I’ve watched him worry about worst case possibilities his entire life, and none of his fretting ever contributed to the outcome one way or another. So I figured, who needs it? I’ll stress when there is something concrete to stress about.”

“But Edenbrook, it could close! We could all be out of jobs soon and the patients will have nowhere to go.”

Baz tilted his head, “Yes, but it’s open now and we can help people now. And just like it could close, it could also stay open. Right?”

Sienna slowly nodded, “I mean, it is a valid point.”

Baz sighed, “I make more of those than I get credit for, so here’s another one. Say the worst thing does happen, you know why you’ll still be okay?”

Francesca shrugged, “Because we’re all excellent doctors who are bound to land on our feet?”

Baz chuckled, “Probably, but not what I meant. You have an amazing support system. Your group of friends, you guys are the envy of the hospital staff. You’ll will get through whatever it is together. That, coupled with your stellar resumes, means you’ll be able to find ways to help whoever needs your help, wherever they may end up.”

Francesca absorbed his words as Sienna responded, “Thank you Baz. We do have an incredible group, and you know what?”

“What?”

She smiled as she looped her arm into his and the three of them headed back towards the hospital, “I think we may have just found our newest member.”

Chapter 10: Sienna confronts Francesca on Ethan’s “Not Single” status.

***

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING. YOUR LIKES AND COMMENTS MEAN THE WORLD!

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#open heart #ethan ramsey #dr ramsey #open heart fanfiction #open heart fandom #choices fandom #sienna #ethan x mc #open heart book 2 #open heart choices

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leviathanswingman · 4 years

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killing me softly, chapter 12: actions speak louder than words

Lucifer was sitting in his study, stacks of paperwork on his desk in front of him. He was meticulously working, going through paper after paper. The big celebration was in a day and he still had a lot of catching up to do. After having pulled another all-nighter, he had almost finished all of his tasks. Next to him was a trash bin, filled to the brim with white and blue rose petals, a few single buds mixed in with stems and thorns.

Exhausted, he allowed himself to rest for a moment. In front of of him were a cup of coffee Barbatos had brought over and an untouched slice of apple pie which Beelzebub had unceremoniously dumped in front of him. Lucifer took a big gulp of coffee and leaned back in his chair, letting out a deep sigh. The warm coffee felt like medicine to his sore throat.

As he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of the rich scent of roasted beans, suddenly, the doors burst open and Asmodeus barged into the room.

Surprised, Lucifer almost threw the cup of coffee over his shoulder. Quickly, he kicked the overflowing trash bin under the desk, almost making it tip over in the process. It swayed dangerously before finally coming to a halt.

„Asmodeus!“ he growled as he got up from his chair. „How many times have I told you to knock? Looking at your behaviour one could assume you'd been raised by apes. I suppose you must have a fairly good reason as to why you have disobeyed my rules once again.“

Asmo smiled at him recklessly. „Oh, I do! I'm on the most important of missions!“ he exclaimed as he crossed the room and walked around the table with a spring in his step. Elegantly, he then sat down on top of Lucifer's mahogany desk, one leg crossed over the other.

„If you don't want me to cancel all of your beauty subscriptions, you better speak up. Now.“

“Oh come one, Lucifer. You wouldn't do that!”

Lucifer held eye contact with his brother as he picked up his DDD and dialled a number. “Good evening, is this-”

“No!” Asmodeus yelled as he grabbed Lucifer's DDD and threw it out the window. From far away they could hear a distant thud, followed by an angry yell. “OW! If I find out who threw that DDD, I swear to fuck-”

“Sorry Satan!!”

Then, there was the sound of a garbage can getting kicked out of its socket and Asmodeus shrugged nonchalantly.

For a moment, Lucifer simply stared at his brother. Normally, now would be the perfect time to punish Asmodeus, make him learn from his mistakes and most of all, make him refrain from overstepping his boundaries ever again. However, Lucifer was extremely tired. The last two days he had worked tirelessly, attempting to make up for the time he had spent in Lord Diavolo's chambers. Adding to the exhaustion that came from his overworked mind, Lucifer was also suffering under the fits of hanahaki that had gotten progressively worse over the last two days. The only blessing that had emerged out of this situation was the fact that his enormous workload was effectively keeping him apart from Diavolo.

With Lucifer holed up in his study and Lord Diavolo busy preparing for his guests, there was no time left to mull over that pesky disease. Everything was working completely in Lucifer's favour.

“Are you trying to sign your death warrant?”

“Not actively, no,” Asmo answered, tilting his head playfully.

“Oh, really? I can make that happen, you are aware of that?” Lucifer threatened half-heartedly. It took much energy being threatening and angry, energy he definitely couldn't spare at the moment. He just had to make it through the celebration, both literally and figuratively.

Lucifer was most aware of the fact that he did not have much time left. Aside from the obvious hanahaki attacks, his breathing had worsened immensely and he had started to get random nose bleeds.

As Yuuta would say, he felt like hell, which was quite ironic, taken his current place of residence. Lucifer had one last task left to fulfil: making it through the celebration without raising any suspicions. If he managed to do that, he could die without regrets; could die with the knowledge that he didn't have to sully Lord Diavolo's name.

After Barbatos had caught him, resting in Diavolo's arms, he had spent evening after evening laying out all of his options and had come to one conclusion. If he were to allow himself to be with Diavolo, if he were to alleviate their relationship to a romantic level, he would sooner or later bring shame to Lord Diavolo. As the current demon prince, a romance with his right hand man would be one of the biggest scandals all around devildom. Although the demon king was not present at the moment, he would certainly not be willing to give his blessing for a union like that.

Lucifer snapped out of it and sighed deeply. In moments like this, he couldn't help but feel a saddening kind of softness. After all, this was one of his last days with his brothers. Almost his entire life he'd portrayed himself as the serious, untouchable older brother. Today, he was allowed to be lenient for once.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to Asmodeus. “Pray tell, what is this mission of yours?”

A quick smile flashed across Asmo's face. “Actually, you are my mission.”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows in a silent question. “I am your mission? In what way is this supposed to make sense?”

His little brother put his hands on Lucifer's shoulders and beamed with excitement. “Well, sorry for saying this, but you look terrible, like absolute garbage.”

“You know you can't hurt my feelings with crude language like that. I'm a busy demon and work always comes first. So what are you trying to accomplish?”

Asmodeus sighed in annoyance. “You don't get what I mean. You probably have to be at Diavolo's side the entire party, right?” he questioned, head cocked to one side.

“It's a celebration, not a party, but yes. It's what's expected from me. Diavolo and I will be responsible for our honoured guests.”

Asmodeus didn't skip a beat. “Looking like that?” he murmured sweetly, yet still loud enough for Lucifer to hear.

Of course, Lucifer had allowed himself to be somewhat kind during his last days, but that didn't mean he'd let his brother bully him without reason. With a strong hand, he whacked Asmodeus in the back of his head.

“Ouch! What was that for?? Lucifer, you're such a meanie! I was just trying to help!” Asmo wailed. “Don't you think you should look perfect for the party? It's no secret that you're blessed with good genes, but right now, you're looking like a zombie!” He rubbed the back of his head as he averted his eyes. “Don't you want to look good for Lord Diavolo?” he added, his expression obviously fake lost in thought.

“What was that last part about?” Lucifer asked coldly, a sickly sweet smile painted on his face as he gripped Asmo's wrist a little bit too tight.

“Oh, did I say that out loud?” came the answer. “Whoopsie.”

“Stop it with your little games, Asmodeus. We both know you have come here with an agenda. Knowing you, there's no way to persuade you to just leave it. So what are you here for?” With a deep sigh, he twirled his hand in a circular motion, signalling his brother to keep talking.

Asmodeus basically lit up. “I'm giving you a makeover!”

Lucifer simply glowered at him. As soon as Asmodeus recognized the look on his brother's face, he corrected himself.

“I'm not saying you need a makeover, after all you are gorgeous Lucifer, I just think you need a bit of last minute skin care to perfect your complexion. Both your exhaustion and hana-”

At the mention of his disease, Lucifer threw Asmodeus a threatening look, making him freeze in place for a second.

“Both your exhaustion and your illness,” he corrected himself, “have taken a toll on you. Wouldn't our beloved guests get worried if they caught you walking around like the living dead?” Asmo concluded.

After a few moments of silence, Lucifer surrendered and sat down on his chair. Deep down he could tell that this wasn't just another one of Asmodeus' shenanigans. There was a bigger picture he wasn't quite aware of.

Still, that didn't erase the fact that his brother had a valid point. If he were to attend the celebration looking gaunt and exhausted, people would eventually end up gossiping. Lord Diavolo already had a hard time proving himself to be as good of a leader as his father had been, rumours about his overworked right hand man were the last thing he needed at the moment.

Lucifer felt a petal working itself up his throat again. He coughed once, trying to alleviate the discomfort, but to no avail. Given the fact that Asmodeus was already in the picture, he felt little shame in pulling the trash bin out from under his desk. Forearms leaning heavily on his thighs, he leaned forward and quickly heaved a load of petals into the already overflowing trash bin. For a few moments he stayed in that position until he could feel his elbows digging into his thighs harshly. Tomorrow, there would probably be bruises there. Lucifer now leaned back, letting the back of his head hit the chair's backrest.

“Do not say anything, I don't need your unnecessary comments,” he said, voice croaky. “Save it.” Suddenly,he felt something trickling down his nose. Blood.

Asmodeus squeaked at the sight of it. “Tip your head back! Tip your head back, oh my god!! Wait, don't tip it back I think you're not supposed to do that! Towel.. towel!” He hurried across the room, scurrying to find anything to stop the bleeding. Eventually, he found one of Lucifer's handkerchiefs and ran back to his side.

“That's not necessary,” Lucifer started as he held the palm of his hand pressed to his nose, blood trickling down to the slightly protruding bone of his wrist.

“Just let me do this!” Asmo exclaimed as he shoved the handkerchief in Lucifer's face. Lucifer let out a few grumbles, but still grabbed the handkerchief and held it to his nose. “So, we were discussing your plan?” he continued their former conversation, acting as if nothing had happened.

Asmodeus looked at him intensely and for a second, a look of suppressed anger cracked through the mask he had carefully crafted. However, it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. After breathing out heavily, he fixed his bangs with steady fingers and put on a smile.

“Of course. So, I've been thinking about what we can do to make you look less like you're about to drop dead and more like you're drop dead gorgeous, right? I still have a few amazing creams and tinctures which can save you from literally anything. We are going to use those on you. With that, problem number one will be solved,” he snapped his finger, “just like that.”

Lucifer folded the bloodied handkerchief in half and pressed it back against his nose. He wasn't the biggest fan of all of Asmo's flowery perfumes and creams; admittedly, the heavy scents gave him migraines, but if it would help him look more presentable for his last duties, he would have to suffer through it. “I understand. What else?”

Asmodeus clapped his hands once. “Problem two is mostly me being nitpicky, but I just know it will make you shine so much more and take everyone's attention off your illness. I'm not trying to be rude here, but you do have a track record of being terrible at hiding,” he motioned towards the full trash bin, “that. You have to show me your outfit and I'll work out how we can perfect it.”

Perfection. Exactly what Lucifer wanted to portray, almost to an obsessive degree. Everything had to be neat and tidy for his final performance.

The bleeding had finally stopped and Lucifer threw the handkerchief into the bin on top of all the sickly smelling petals and buds. “Alright then, follow me to my chambers.”

“So?”

Asmodeus was standing in the middle of Lucifer's room as he waited for his brother to bring out his fit for tomorrow's party. He knew Lucifer could tell something was up, but seeing as he had only a day left and his pride to maintain, he had budged. Well, he had budged very reluctantly. Taken the fact that they were talking about Lucifer however, it was a wonder he had given in to begin with.

When him, his brothers and Yuuta had formed their plan, Asmodeus had immediately known what exactly he had to say to Lucifer to get him to involuntarily cooperate. Catering to his pride had been their only realistic option and it had worked incredibly well.

We're not gonna let you go, you stubborn brother of ours. We're annoying like that and you are all that we have left, Asmodeus thought to himself for a moment.

He was nervous to a certain degree, but out of all of his brothers and Yuuta, he was the one with the most viable poker-face.

Asmodeus prided himself in being distracting and eye-catching, turning conversations around was his forte. Now he completely had to rely on those skills of his. Everyone was depending on him to make this work somehow. He hid shaking fingers behind his back as Lucifer stepped back into his field of view, holding a pristine black suit. It was neither too plain nor too ornate, perfect in a marriage of respectability and beauty. Thoughtfully, Asmodeus nodded his head as he circled the suit once, looking at every inch of fabric closely.

“We can work with this. Waistcoat and shirt?” he then asked, his pointer ghosting over his lips.

“Red waistcoat, the dress shirt is a regular black one,” Lucifer answered, handing over the suit to his brother. Asmodeus laid it out on the bed, careful not to crease the suit.

“The waistcoat is a good choice, but drop the black dress shirt.”

Lucifer furrowed his eyebrows. “What is wrong with a black dress shirt. It's professional yet elegant.”

“That's exactly the point. This is not a business meeting, this is a party.”

“Celebration,” Lucifer cut in.

“Par-ty,” Asmo insisted. “Lord Diavolo and you are there to entertain and mingle with the guests. Dress like it. Aren't parties there to impress and wow the crowd?” He winked at his brother. “Or do you want me to have all the attention to myself? Oh Lucifer, I didn't know you were this considerate! Anyway, the shirt gets switched out with a black dress shirt made out of lace, no getting out of this one.”

Lucifer glowered at him. It was almost hilariously obvious how badly he wanted this situation to be over. “Are you done?”

“Am I done? I've barely even started! Show me the shoes!”

After crossing the room again, Lucifer brought over a pair of elegant, black dress shoes. Asmodeus stared at them in blank horror. “Ew. Ew ew ew. Nope, we are certainly not doing that!”

With a bit too much force Lucifer sat down on the bed, barely suppressing a deep grumble. “What's the problem now?”

“What's the-? Everything! Lucifer, how did you manage to woo Lord Diavolo with clothes this unadventurous?!”

“I told you before, I do not-” before he could finish his sentence Asmodeus raised one finger and dashed out of the room.

Lucifer sprung up from his bed and quickly grabbed the nearest handkerchief, coughing into it violently. His throat hurt to the point that one, two, three more buds didn't matter all that much anymore. He tasted blood, but kept coughing until what had been clogging up his windpipe dislodged. Two bloodied buds were now lying in the handkerchief between his hands, a blue rose and a white rose.

Images of those mesmerizing eyes, all honey and smoke, flashed through his mind again. Nowadays, the mere mention of Diavolo was enough to send Lucifer into painful fits. Still, he had made his decision and he was going to have to live with it. Or rather, he had to die with it, but that was just semantics right there.

Just as his breathing calmed down again, Asmodeus barged back into the room, holding something in his hands.

In the middle of wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, Lucifer looked back up, realizing what exactly his little brother had brought over so excitedly.

“You cannot be serious about this.”

Asmodeus flashed him one of his signature smiles, a smile few could say no to. Although Lucifer was different from regular demons, even he himself found it difficult to refuse his little brother when he exuded this kind of energy. But Lucifer knew his brothers better than anyone else. Asmodeus' smiles were infused with his powers. Whether he did this on purpose or not was a completely different question though. Awareness generally lowered the impact Asmodeus' powers had on you.

“Yep! I'm completely serious about this. I will come by 2 hours before the party starts so I can do your make-up.”

Without batting an eye Lucifer crossed his arms. He had worn make-up on multiple occasions, a little bit of concealer or foundation here and there to hide his tiredness and exhaustion. Knowing his brother however, this was not going to be where it ended.

Apparently Asmodeus saw the distrusting look on Lucifer's face, since he hurriedly scrolled through his phone, turning it to Lucifer to show him the picture he had just looked up.

“Like that,” he said. “Doesn't that look just darling? We'll use a little bit of red eyeshadow, which will work great with your eyes, then apply a tiny bit of eyeliner and then finish it off with mascara. Subtle yet enticing.” Slowly, he looked up at his brother who seemed to study the photo for a moment.

“Enticing? I would rather say it's quite daring, taken the fact that I am Lord Diavolo's right hand man.”

Asmodeus sighed deeply. “I promise, I'm not trying to make you look like a whore! This is gonna look so sophisticated! You're gonna look hot!”

Finally, Lucifer gave in, not because of his brother's last comment, but because it was his last day with his family. With Lord Diavolo. Going out meekly had never been quite his style.

“For once, I entrust myself to you. Do not disappoint me, Asmodeus,” he threatened, but his brother was barely listening to him as he had already jumped up and hugged Lucifer tightly, nuzzling his chest with his head for a moment. Surprised, Lucifer froze for a moment, but then resorted himself to awkwardly patting Asmo's head. A few moments later, Asmo let go again.

“It's settled then, I'll see you tomorrow!” he beamed before leaving the room with a spring to his step.

Lucifer sighed deeply as he let himself sink back onto his bed. Suddenly, his eyes settled on the clothing item Asmodeus had brought over before. Boots with a heel, approximately four inches in height, which would reach over his knees, hugging the beginning of his thighs in an almost promiscuous promise, made of the richest of leathers. They were beautiful works of craft, there was no denying that.

Lucifer's gut feeling was telling him that tomorrow would be the most interesting of days. No matter how much he would have preferred a calm passing, the fact that his brothers were involved in some way or another told him that chaos would inevitably ensue. After all, it always did.

There was only one certainty about tomorrow's evening in the ballroom: it would undeniably be Lucifer's last day alive.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 13

*nsfw chapter

taglist: @el-does-photography

#my writing #obey me #shall we date? obey me #dialuci #diavolo x lucifer #obey me! lucifer #obey me! diavolo #obey me! asmodeus #hanahaki au #fanfiction #aaaah this took me a minute #got all distracted which is #fun #not really #also i escalated a bit this was supposed to be like 1.5k words but i did more than double that #i'm an asmo simp on main when it's about him i just won't stfu #obey me! satan

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miss-tc-nova · 3 years

Text

In The Moment - Neku Sakuraba x Reader

Not gonna lie, this one was hard. Between hectic life, writer’s block, and abandoning my first idea, I really struggled coming up with something good and I’m still not 100% on this one but it is long overdue. Thank you, anon, for patiently waiting for me and thank you for bringing me back to a fandom/game that I truly love.

~~~~~

Today is proving to be simply perfect. After mulling over ideas for weeks, going through all the necessary channels, and hours of tedious prep, I’m going to start my final art project today.

Stepping back, I take one last look at the two-story building that will serve as my canvas. With my paint all prepped, the rarely-used road blocked off, my favorite music blasting in my ears, and perfect weather, I begin hurling balloons at the blank wall. It takes only a few balloons before I’m entirely engrossed in my own little world of music and art. The stone wall is already livelier with a handful of pink, blue, green, and yellow splats.

In my own little paradise, I bounce towards my bucket of ammo. Another balloon rolls in my hand while my groove has consumed me. I turn back to my canvas, launching the paint.

My heart stops. The balloon soars through the air in what feels like painful slow motion, inching ever closer towards its unsuspecting victim. It’s like a horror scene watching the projectile make contact with his face, molding against it before the rubber skin breaks. A wave of pink paint bursts forward, crashing down on the poor boy before the actual impact takes him to the ground.

Hand to my mouth, I gape at the casualty before my senses snap back to me. Ripping my headphones out and snatching up a towel, I rush towards him.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!”

Sitting up, he pulls down his headphones and rubs the paint from his eye. “What the hell?” He looks down at the smear across his hand. “What happened?”

I push the towel into his hand. “You kinda got caught in the crossfire.”

His orange brows scrunch together. “Crossfire?”

“Yeah. I’m working on an art project and you walked right in the middle of it.” My hand waves to the dripping wall.

More in awe than anger—which I found surprising—he stands up to look at my work. “An art project? Isn’t it illegal to tag buildings like this?”

“One, it’s not a tag, it’s a project. Two, this building is scheduled for demolition, so I got permission from the city; that’s why I blocked the road off. Didn’t you notice?”

We look back at the “road closed” signs.

“Oh…No...” he mutters.

“Hmm, maybe I should’ve put some on the sidewalks.”

My gaze turns back on my victim. Beneath the neon color sprayed across the side of his head is a wild flay of orange hair and fair skin. His cloudy-sky eyes are outstanding, somehow lending themselves to the bright interest despite how soothingly cool they appear. I’d be clearly amiss if I didn’t admit that he’s cute.

“Sorry for getting in the way.”

He’s looking at me, and by the time I realize it, I feel my skin alight at the thought he caught me staring into his eyes.

“I’m sorry you’re…pink,” I reply. “I might be able to save your headphones but I don’t think your shirt’s gonna make it.”

He tugs at his shirt, a corner of his lips pulling back in disappointment. “At least it wasn’t my favorite, I guess.”

There’s something strange about this guy, like he doesn’t quite know how normal people react; most people would be upset after being covered in paint and having their clothes ruined, regardless of whether or not it was their fault. However, next to this unusual naivety is the light of someone completely open, someone out to actually see the world for what it is. This is someone I want to understand, to aspire to be like.

The words leave my mouth before I can even think about them.

“Do you wanna join me?” I’m an idiot.

“Huh?”

The idiocy continues when I jam a thumb towards my buckets of supplies. “You’re already covered in paint. Why don’t you join me? It’ll be fun.” I pull this innocent kid towards the paint station, reaching into the bucket to plop an orb into his hand. “Here.”

He glances between me, the balloon, and the wall. “Are you sure? I might ruin your project.”

I grin. “You can’t ruin arbitration that easily. Besides, the whole point of this part is to just make a mess. So go on, throw it.”

He shrugs and tosses the balloon against the stone where it breaks.

“There you go!” I pick up another balloon, flinging it across the road.

School projects aren’t traditionally fun, but I was having a blast with this school project from the start; with the guy—who introduced himself as Neku—helping me out, this might be the most fun I’ve ever had in my life. He genuinely puts his heart into simply throwing balloons, like a bubbling stream of inspiration, spurring my inspiration and turning this project on its head.

My hand meets the bottom of the bucket—an empty bucket. “Damn. All out of balloons.”

Neku looks up at the dripping wall. “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure there’s at least three layers of paint here. Might’ve been overkill.”

“I had to make sure there was enough to cover every brick. Better too much than not enough in this case,” I say, starting to pick up scraps of scattered rubber.

He helps me collect the garbage. “So is this all there is to this project? Hurl paint at walls?”

“No, this is the background set up. Later, I’m gonna get some spray paint and do the more tedious work later.”

“What was even the point of this project?”

“Well, it’s an art project so…a good grade, first off. Second…” I pause to really think about how to word it. “I guess I really wanted to capture the spontaneity of life. That every moment can be a bright and colorful splat.” Neku chuckles, bringing out a more bashful side. “I guess that makes it pretty obvious who my role model is, huh? But I try to remind myself every day: Enjoy every moment-”

“-with all you’ve got.” Neku finishes my sentence with an all-knowing grin.

Even if the embarrassment burns between my shoulders, I can’t help laughing. “Is it too obvious where my inspiration came from?”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m sure CAT would approve of your methods.”

“That actually makes me really happy.” I look back at the mess I hope to turn into something incredible. “CAT’s art that got me through some tough times; I’d love to be able to inspire people someday the same way CAT’s art inspired me.”

My brain short circuits. For a split-second while, I attempt to process what just happened, all I can feel is buzzing just beneath the skin. A hand reaches up to brush the spot he’d grazed but the fingers come away with pink paint. Neku, on the other hand, stands there, avoiding eye contact, a different shade of pink peeking out from beneath the paint across his face.

“What-…” I can’t even come up with the words to finish my question.

His face still blushing, he gives me a warm smile. “Just living in the moment.”

The buzz surges into my chest, crashing against my heart with a wave of happiness. Building up my courage, I follow his lead.

“Would your moment object if we maybe extended it by a couple hours?” A brow arches in question. “Tomorrow, six o’clock? Maybe with less paint?”

When he understands, he shrugs. “Less, more, I’m sure it’ll be fun either way.”

“Great.” Lifting my phone, I snap a picture of the paint-riddled kid.

“What was that for?”

“Your picture for my contacts,” I reply. “I assume you’ll be giving me your number, right?”

He smirks. “Nah, I’ll just walk down the street and wait to get pelted with more paint balloons.”

“So you’re gonna ignore more traffic signs?”

The simper is marred with a laugh. “Worked the first time.”

I shove my phone into his hands. “Don’t push your luck, buddy. You already got the date.”

We swap numbers and clean up the rest of the remnants scattered about. I’m sure he can tell how reluctant I am to say goodbye, but we inevitably do and part ways. Once I’m sure he’s around the corner and out of sight, I literally jump for joy like a child on Christmas.

My entire plan for the afternoon was to work on my project—taking into account both prep and clean up. I had absolutely nothing else in the books for today. Never in a million years would I have guessed that, in the midst of my work, an artsy accident would end up with a spontaneous date. I know my adopted motto says to enjoy the present, but tomorrow just cannot come fast enough.

#neku #neku sakuraba #neku x reader

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sourbat · 4 years

Text

Kloktober Day 4

Villains or Family

Rating: T

Warnings: Language

Summary: A few headcanons I have for Nathan and his father. How his father helped Nathan develop. Anyways, check it out.

When Nathan was three, and his mother was tired of trying to convince him to sit still or risk getting cut by the scissors, his father walked in and snatched them up, hoisting them just above her reach. Nathan saw the attractive glimmer of the smooth steel, but instinctually recoiled when his mind drew up memories of the sound it made when it cut through his hair, and that god-awful sensation of freshly cut trimmings against his skin. Short bristles. Sharp, irritating, and they stuck to him even after his mother attempted to wipe it all away. But as he withdrew, he heard his dad tell his mom “no more of this,” and to “let the boy be,” and even though he couldn’t look up, listened in on every word, absorbing it all to memory.

“He clearly doesn’t like it, Rose,” his dad continued, ignoring the worries and pleas of his overly concerned wife. “I ain’t worried. You see this boy? Don’t look like a damn girl to me!”

“But Oscar.”

“Let the damn boy be, Rose,” his father said, keeping his voice solid and firm. Strong. Controlled. Though Nathan couldn’t bring himself to meet his father in the eyes, he caught glimpses of his smile in his peripheral vision, always aimed at him, always there. “You want to rock long hair, son? Go ahead.”

And like that, his dad saved him from another dreaded haircut from his mother.

When Nathan was six, and already so much taller than most boys his age, his father threw out his back, and couldn’t carry him across the dry, coarse overloading hell that led to the ocean. Days before the trip his mother warned him he’d need to walk across the sand, that it was only for a short while, and would lead to the comforting splashes of cool, deep sea water. Briny, foamy ocean water. Salty and cold. Water that spoke a language Nathan understood better than English, that told him secrets he could only hear, and promises that, although he couldn’t comprehend, knew one day he’d fulfill. Although his father didn’t know this, he knew the water was important, and bought Nathan his first pair of boots.

“You gotta promise me you’ll make this work,” he said after shoving the boot on Nathan’s foot. Nathan remembered the comforting feel, the constricting, but promising protection hat ran up his legs. “You walk slow, no sand. You run, you’ll get sand trapped in there, and I’ll never hear the end of it from your mom. Alrighty?”

Nathan could only recall providing his father an inquisitive glance. But his dad slowly nodded in return, interpreting his silent message, the hidden appreciation that only a father could decipher. And on the day of their trip, despite the stares, Nathan donned his boots and trekked across the beach: clumsily, but determined. His hands covered his ears most the way, senses juggling between the heat of the sun, the array of colors and flashes of people and their families making so many distracting sounds. Then the sand turned dark, soft and clumpy, and Nathan dropped it all when the sounds of waves consumed everything else. Once the ocean called, he removed them, mouth agape as he set forth barefoot while his mother crossed her arms, rolling her eyes at an overly proud Oscar Explosion soaking in another personal victory.

Then summer ended, and the school forced another private meeting between teachers and parents, and the adults did that thing where they mentioned Nathan by name, but acted as though he wasn’t entirely there. The one with the clipboard talks about his underachievement during first grade, while the other with the glasses insisted “this was for the best” and “Nathan needs special care.” Special care for special boys. His mother called him special all the time, but the way the teacher said it didn’t make it sounds the same. Certainly not when she talked about him like he wasn’t all there. Like he was asleep, in another room. But he was awake, and so was his dad, and his mother, though terrified of the terms they used, the tests they handed her, the frightening prospects they laid out, was also waking up to the bullshit.

“Now you listen here,” his dad said in a growl Nathan had never heard before. It startled him. Reached deep in his heart. Grabbed, mesmerized and inspired him. “You told me last year he was good for general education. Now you’re telling me otherwise? I don’t think so!”

His father slammed the desk, and while his mother gasped, Nathan remained astutely calm. The noise didn’t bother him, didn’t mess with his senses like it normally would. He remembered looking up, first at his dad, then at the teachers who expected him to act out, to get frustrated over his father’s booming voice, him calling them “the retards in the room,” and that “they were the real failures, not Nathan.” Not Nathan.

“You put him back in class with everyone else,” Oscar said, standing up and dominating the scene with his oppressive build. “You want him to talk more? Put him with everyone else, dammit! But I’ll tell you what you won’t do: treat my boy like he can’t fucking hear every passive remark slithering out of your forked tongues!”

That year Nathan became class president, and later attended the first of what would eventually become a long series of funerals. All in all, it was a very busy year, so much so Nathan found that internally mulling over these events simply wasn’t enough, and started muttering, growling and grunting them out–trying to recapture that powerful boom–and in the process, seizing the delights of his ecstatic parents.

Just a few years later, Nathan discovered metal. Not the smooth, cool and attractive metal that he loved to hold, bend and melt under his father’s supervision; but that wondrous crash and boom, distracting bang and guitars shredding and tearing through notes, ripping and spreading them across the melody at a voracious speed, and meaningful lyrics that exploded with a brilliant energy. Nathan was all too familiar with it. What was often trapped in his head now took form in music, and once Nathan had the words in his possession, wanted to share and discuss it.

His parents were surprised by his new interest. They didn’t understand how something so rough, so loud and imposing could act as a blanket, covering him from the drowning sounds of everyday life. Try as they might, they lacked the mental prowess Nathan possessed, and only saw the genre as something loud and easily avoidable. They didn’t know what it was like to live it, to feel it in their bones, to have it shoot through their nerves twenty-four seven. To Nathan, metal came as natural as breathing.

Neither parent understood, but their love was there, and although Nathan was quickly approaching the age where he cared less and less for his parents’ opinions, often returned to the livingroom, to his father sitting in his worn, leathery throne, newspaper or beer in hand. Didn’t matter if the game was on, or if there was politics on the mind, and argument between parents, or some other boring adult thing. The man listened.

Nathan walked in, hands clasped tightly around his cassette player. Music blasted through his headphones, so loud it could be heard over the line of infomercials. His father raised his eyes above the paper, brows lifting in mild interest as Nathan pulled the cassette cover out from his khakis, practically shoving it into his face.

“Hey,” Nathan said. “Hey, dad?”

Mildly crossed-eyed, Oscar feigned ignorance at the cassette placed so close to his face. “What is it, son?”

“Look at this,” Nathan said, wiggling the bright cassette depicting a pyramid and gruesome skeletal idol. “It’s the Iron Maiden cassette I got today.”

“I can hear it. A little loud, don’t you think?”

“Whatever,” Nathan said, yanking the cassette away from his father, fidgeting some as he stowed it back into his person. “It’s good. Supposed to be loud… Hey, dad.”

“Mhmm,” his father said, then folded his newspaper and let it rest on top of his lap. Nathan stood, tall and broad, brows permanently furrowed and eyes expressing a delightful combination of glee and rapid, wild energy. He watched his son, a large, massive form, eager to share all his world with him and everything else in between, whatever got caught along the way, and so much more. Oscar glanced at the empty couch beside him, and pointed at it. “Sit down, sit down. I’m listening. Tell me about your Iron Metal…”

Nathan was already headed to his seat when he paused to send his father a disapproving scowl. “Ugh, it’s Iron Maiden, dad,” he said, voice inflection on the rise over such a silly mistake.

Chuckling, Oscar replied: “Right, Iron Maiden. Tell me about Iron Maiden, son.”

#kloktober #nathan explosion #oscar explosion #fanfic #metalocalypse #tw: language

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sativaasiren · 4 years

Text

Line without a Hook-Chapter 2

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

Genre: slow burn, fluff

Summary: Y/N is a shy student, but with a cat sized curiosity. Will her curiosity get the best of her when she overhears about Great King and his Kingdom? Will he even notice her in a crowd of adoring fans?

Notes: I was really surprised by the overwhelming amount of support so I decided to make this a smaller fic instead of a one shot! Trying to do Oikawa justice but i’m way out of practice on fic writing so bear with me.I appreciate you all and I hope to write another chapter soon! If you have anything you wanna see, comment and i’ll see what I can do :)

You’ve been completely done in. Rational thought escaped you for the weeks that followed the match where the great king played. You replayed the game over and over in your head, but never seemed to remember any new details about any of the other players in the match. He was captivating and you needed to see him again.

This wasn’t like you, to be so throughly flustered and by a guy you spoke less than a paragraph to. Your thoughts wandered to his smile and you spiraled again, stuck in your daydream train of thought. While you only casually listened in on conversations of your classmates at Karasuno before, now you were in full spy mode.

You were able to gather from hallway and classroom gossip that Oikawa Tooru played for Aoba Josai, and his role was the setter. Granted, you hadn’t learned any more about the position than you knew before that game, but he looked incredible no matter what he was doing. Yes, Oikawa was cute, but that wasn’t what caught your eye on first impression. It was his sheer love and talent for this game, he made it look so easy.

Your one goal was to overhear the next game. Most normal people would ask their friends or go up to a player and ask, but you didn’t have a close enough relationship with anyone in your class and it would be painfully awkward. Luck shined down on you that Thursday. Chi, your loud but informative classmate, was going on again to her severely unimpressed friend.

“I don’t care, Chi, I’m not going to a game that isn’t at this school.”

“Come on” Chi dragged out with a whine that made you cringe. “I need to see Oikawa again tomorrow, Sayu!”

“Go by yourself then. Shiratorizawa Academy isn’t that far from you and I don’t need to mop up your drool again”

Chi leaned over in her seat, pouting for dramatic effect. “Fine then, suit yourself, you’ll be sorry when Oikawa finally notices me and I don’t have time for you anymore”

You had to hold back a chuckle, it wouldn’t have looked good if you were caught, even if Chi was yelling her words loud enough for neighboring classes to hear. She once again came through for you. Never had you imagined that having the loudest fangirl in your class would later be beneficial.

It bothered you though. You didn’t want to admit it, but she bothered you. Why did she bother you now at all times? How are you jealous over a guy you barely know? Mind reeling, you threw yourself into your classwork, keeping yourself distracted from the King.

You walked home alone, it left you with space to think and mull over your ideas for tomorrow. It helped to pre-plan your schedule and potential conversations with people before a social event. You were convinced that rehearsing a conversation before it happened would make it easier to have once the time came.

It did not.

If time could move both fast and slow at the same time, it was. You couldn’t help but look at your phone or at the clock every 15 minutes, trying to speed through the day. You had planned on leaving school as soon as you were free, allowing you to get changed into something more you and make the trek to Shiratorizawa.

Standing in front of the mirror, you carefully recited for the 50th time what you planned to say to the Great King today and you would NOT feel stupid this time. Going with something more relaxed but stylish, the only thing you felt was missing about your outfit, was a scrunchie.

Your favorite scrunchie, the one that matched everything, resided with Oikawa. You weren’t even sure if he kept it, he probably gets gifts from girls like Chi all the time. He must be running out of shelf space anyway. Rifling through your dresser, you dug out a deep blue velvet scrunchie instead. This should make do, even if it doesn’t perfectly fit the outfit you were going with. “Let’s not give this one away” you grumbled to yourself as you tied it around your ponytail.

You jogged to the match, unable to repress the excitement bubbling in your stomach and the buzzing in your legs. This is crazy, you don’t even like volleyball yet but you felt like throwing up from the thrill of it all.

You didn’t like volleyball but you liked him

Finding a seat among the other Oikawa fangirls, you felt both out of place and where you belonged at the same time. At this point, I guess you were his fangirl. You gave him your scrunchie for God’s sake but were you really just like the rest of them? Probably, Oikawa probably can’t tell any of them apart.

When Oikawa walked in, everyone around you stood up and cheered, yelling and screaming kind words and exclamations of love and all the while, the King smiled and waved. He looked like he was in pure bliss, this is what he wanted to do, and he loved being here. It was intoxicating.

The match was not going how you expected. Shiratorizawa was squashing Aoba Josai like they had no skill to begin with and you could feel your spirts souring. You were stunned. How was there a team with more skill that Oikawa? He was the Great King right?

“You’re being stupid, you’ve only seen one game remember? What would you even know about skill?” You silently chastised yourself.

Oikawa was sweating, both physically and mentally, he was really giving his all to win this match and nothing he did was enough. Ushijima stared him right in the face and showed him who’s the real talent in the prefecture. But Oikawa smiled, beaming at his cheering fans. “I won’t let them down, I want to make them proud of me, even if we don’t succeed today”

Oikawa persisted, but it wasn’t enough. The game was lost and he felt the pit in his chest grow. He had to be the best, and today, he was not. He made his way through the sportmanship line and hesitantly made him way to the bleachers where his fanclub had set up camp, including you. He took a beat to breathe before he turned on his persona for his adoring crowd.

It hurt him to let his fans down, but it hurt worse to let himself down. He was his own worst critic. “I’m sorry ladies, I promise to do better next time!”. The group chattered various reassuring words and mixed in jabs about Shiratorizawa in the process. Oikawa was listening intently but stopped when he locked eyes with you, the only person not speaking in the crowd.

Oikawa took careful steps over to you and you looked up at his towering figure above you. You were shaking and hoped to he couldn’t tell. “Y/N, you came back to see me?” He smirked, and it ignited sparks in your chest, and you absently grabbed at it before letting go of your top, praying that he didn’t notice.

You’re gorgeous, Oikawa Tooru, i’ll have to give you that.

“Yeah...I wanted to see more of the sport and any game with you is worth watching” you quickly spat while completely lost in his gaze. “You’re amazing, Oikawa”

Oikawa laughed and you wanted to run, far far away from him and this gym. The feelings were going to kill you. You would have followed him off the face of the earth if he asked. “So do you like volleyball or just me?”.

The lump that had made its way into your throat didn’t move and your mouth was still parted, waiting for the words to come out. You practiced damnit, why was this so difficult?

“I-I suppose it’s both”.

Oikawa leaned down towards you and the fanclub glowered behind him, jealousy radiating. If you wanted to run before, now you were ready to move to another country. “You suppose? Have you given any of the other players your things?” His smirk grew wider and you screamed in your mind, trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably.

“N-no but it’s just a scrunchie. Nothing special” you waved your hand, trying to dismiss your eager yet not thought out move from before.

“I beg to differ, Y/N, but we’ll have to agree to disagree on this one.”

A teammate was waving and yelling, trying to get Oikawa’s attention and he sighed. “I have to go, but I hope to see you at my next game, Y/N, it never hurts to have a little cutie in the crowd who can’t keep their eyes off me”. Oikawa turned and started to head down the stairs.

He knew, he knew you were staring at him the entire game. You started wringing your hands and looking down at your feet, and the sudden burst of bravery kicked in, better late than never.

“Did you keep it?” You half-shouted, but after the words left your mouth, you were now afraid of the answer. This could hurt you, and time froze. So much for being ready for anything huh?

Oikawa didn’t stop moving this time, still making his move down the stairs. “Yeah, I did actually....I happen to love strawberries”. He looked back in your direction and winked.

You’re falling, and there’s nothing to break your fall, but you can’t help but smile wider than you have in a very long time.

“When can I see him again?”

All chapters released available here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28001310

#haikyuu!!#oikawa #oikawa toru fluff #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you #fluff #fanfiction #reader insert

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