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jimxnslight · 3 months

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Fool's Gold || Part I

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. violence, blood, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

<< masterlist || next part >>

“I heard that she’s a complete airhead.”

Jungkook’s expensive shoes smacked against the pristine white and gold marble floors as he continued to walk through the lavish hallway, hands disappearing behind his pockets while his steps were slow and confident. Most would think he was choosing to ignore the comment, but his closest friend knew better than to rush a man as calculating as Jungkook.

Instead, Taehyung strolled alongside him, taking in the glittering chandeliers looming over their heads and the intricate designs carved into the white walls that were much too traditional for his taste. Jungkook and Taehyung were nowhere near out of place in the sea of extravagance with their custom suits and shiny black dress shoes. Taehyung, the more simple of the two, had his brown hair parted and pushed back to reveal a blemish free forehead while his grey and black suit complimented the grey specks in his brown irises.

On the other hand, Jungkook’s black on black outfit adorned two expensive cufflinks and a gold brooch attached to his lapel. Taehyung’s gaze dropped to his black hair, which he noticed had grown in the past month.

When Taehyung realised that Jungkook wasn’t going to speak, he decided to fill the silence.

“Like apparently she’s huge on wearing pink and frilly stuff -which I guess is just a girl thing- but still, this is a mafia not a tea party.”

He paused, waiting for his comrade to offer his thoughts, but was met with silence once again.

“I’ve also heard she’s dumber than a pile of rocks. Barely passed high school and then dropped out of university not even a month in. Her major wasn’t even that hard. Commerce, was it?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed as Jungkook continued to lengthen the silence.

“And as you already must know, she was also married about a year ago but then was widowed after her husband was killed by a rival gang on the same day. Even though their marriage didn’t even last a full 24 hours, she had been so traumatised by the whole thing that apparently she didn’t even speak for an entire month after the ordeal. Can you imagine how much of a princess she must be for a simple death to shake her that much? She must be a real- come on man, how long are you going to make me go on?”

Jungkook turned his head to offer him a sly grin, “I was wondering when you would reach your limit.”

Taehyung gave him a halfhearted punch to the arm, “you’re such a jerk. Answer my question man. I’m dying to know what she’s actually like.”

He followed Jungkook as he turned into another hallway, curious as to what he thought of her, but his answer had him staring at Jungkook incredulously.

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung faltered in his step, gaping at the back of the man who continued through the hallway nonchalantly. When the weight of his answer finally processed completely in Taehyung’s mind, he ran forward so that he could walk alongside his friend once again.

“I think you misunderstood my question,” Taehyung tried again slowly, “I want to know about Lee Y/N, you know, your soon to be wife? The one you’re about to marry right now?”

“What is there to know?” Jungkook commented, mind occupied with a topic of much more importance, “a marriage with her will allow for the unification of two powerful mafia families and will also allow for an heir to be born. Is that not the whole point of marriages for individuals like us?”

“Well yeah, but there’s no harm in getting to know her at least a little bit. Did you even hear about the ‘dumb as rocks’ part when I was rambling?”

“That will only make her easier to control,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, whatever. Is she at least pretty?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened even more when Jungkook didn’t respond, “please tell me you’ve met her at least once. Oh my god, have you even looked at a picture of her?”

Jungkook's silence was all Taehyung needed to know that the answer was, in fact, no,” I knew I shouldn’t have gone out of the country! My parents kept telling me everything would be fine and they’d take care of the whole thing but you haven’t even met her once? I should’ve made my return flight earlier, then I could’ve-”

Taehyung’s voice faltered as he noticed Jungkook’s distant expression, causing his brows to furrow. He wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, which wasn’t something entirely out of the ordinary, but it usually wasn’t this bad. He sighed as he shifted his gaze to the expensive hall before him.

“Is this about the Parks?” He asked, noticing his friend’s focus return.

“It’s the Parks and the Mins,” Jungkook admitted, “ever since their alliance, they’ve been getting bold. They made a move on our West docks last week and would have been successful in seizing them if it weren’t for the blackmail I managed to procure at the last minute. But that won’t hold them off for long.”

Taehyung’s head tilted to the side, “you’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Why’s this bothering you so much?”

Jungkook turned into another hallway to finally come face to face with a large pair of grandiose double doors that towered over them. The two men came to a stop, aware that their conversation was now on a timer.

“I just… have an uneasy feeling,” he said, unable to reveal anymore to Taehyung. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend what he had really witnessed when he visited the docks yesterday.

Taehyung, clueless to Jungkook’s inner turmoil, slapped him on the back, lightening the mood with a grin, “come on man, this is your wedding. You’ll figure everything out later, for now just relax. You deserve it.”

Before he could protest, Taehyung shoved the double doors open to reveal an enormous and crowded wedding hall. The white and gold marble floor stretched across the entire room, while multiple diamonds came together to form a giant chandelier that hung over the hundreds of tables that had been decorated with shiny silverware and pristine white roses. The people were just as decorated as the furniture, with their elegant gowns and glamorous jewellery.

At the sound of the doors opening, the once chattering crowd silenced, opting to sneak glances at Jungkook and his friend instead. Hushed whispers echoed around the hall as Jungkook straightened his back and held his head high before making his way to the centre of the room. Behind him, Taehyung took his place, his outgoing and extroverted personality tucked away to look just as regal and intimidating as the groom. The crowd began gathering on either side of the aisle, clearly excited for the bride who had been scheduled to appear any second now.

Most men’s hearts would be racing during a time like this, Jungkook thought distantly, eyes focused on the aisle as well. Marriage to others was supposed to symbolise unwavering love and devotion. But not for him. For him marriage was simply a contract, a means to an end that he hoped would lessen the burden of a number of challenges. In a world like this, there was no such thing as love.

Only power.

The sound of the double doors opening pulled him from his thoughts, with two professionally dressed workers fixing them on either side so that they remained open this time. Jungkook watched a pair of women in what seemed like light pink bridesmaid dresses trail behind two girls who couldn’t have been more than five throwing white and light pink flower petals in the air. Behind the entourage was a figure drenched in white.

You walked slowly into the room, your glimmering white dress trailing behind you as a thick white veil draped over your face and the front of your dress. Jungkook could only make out your hands clutching a small bouquet of white roses while your arm looped around your father’s, who was slowly guiding you down the aisle. Despite the aid, he couldn’t help but notice an uneasiness to your steps and a slight shake in your hands.

The crowd’s gaze stayed fixed on your figure, drinking in the Jeon Jungkook’s soon to be wife. There were some gasps of astonishment at the beauty of your dress and figure, while there were some gasps of jealousy towards the woman who was taking Jungkook off the market. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention as your head stayed fixed in front of you, focusing on not falling as you continued through the aisle.

To Jungkook, it felt like years had passed before you finally reached the small steps leading to the stage he was standing on, your bridesmaids taking their places on the opposite side of where Taehyung was standing. Your father unlooped his arm from yours and stepped back to sit on one of the seats that had been reserved for him, leaving you to hesitantly step onto the stage yourself. Your heel wobbled as you brought your foot forward and Jungkook knew exactly what would happen before it did.

He watched your heel slip sideways, causing you to careen to your right under the heaviness of your dress. But before you could crash into the large pots of white roses, Jungkook shot forward so that his hand could grab your waist, hoisting you up to prevent you from falling. The crowd swooned at the gesture, murmuring about its romantic nature, though all Jungkook could wonder was how you’ve been surviving in a mafia family for so long. Taehyung had only said you were dumb, not a complete klutz too.

He could feel the warmth of your delicate hand on his shoulder as he guided you up the steps, only letting go of you once the two of you were facing the patiently waiting priest. Once he had motioned for everyone to sit, he began his sermon in an obnoxiously boring voice. Jungkook had no particular interest in paying attention to a speech he had listened to multiple times growing up. Instead, he took the chance to survey you briefly. With your veil still hiding your face, he could only take in your perfect figure and pristine skin.

Eventually, the priest asked you to remove your veil, to which you complied slowly. Taehyung came forward, offering to take the bouquet in your hands while your bridesmaids helped you hesitantly lift the soft white cloth over your head.

A wave of hushed whispers spread throughout the crowd at the sight of your face, one that caught Jungkook off guard. Your eyes had been lined with a light liner, while your lips and cheeks had been made to look dainty. Your hair fell from the top of your head to your shoulders, styled in a way that framed your features and neck. Jungkook noticed a small silver necklace in the shape of a heart resting against your exposed collarbone.

Your makeup made you look so innocent and… young. Jungkook almost wanted to pull Taehyung’s parents aside and confirm that you really were twenty three and not some nineteen year old. It was a bit of a turn off, he realised, slightly bothered by the fact. As a twenty six year old, he obviously wasn’t into teenagers, so he didn’t know what having a wife that looked like one was going to do for him.

Then again, he wasn’t marrying you for some kind of gratification. He was marrying you because he needed to form a strong alliance between your father’s gang and his so that he could be, or at the very least appear, stronger than the Mins and Parks. You were nothing more than a path to more power and, aside from upholding his responsibilities as a husband, he would treat you as such.

As the priest continued to drone on, Jungkook continued to analyse your form. He watched your eyes stay focused on the priest before they strayed, hesitantly landing on Jungkook for a split second. When you noticed his gaze already on you, a small squeak sounded from your lips before you quickly shifted your focus forward. With the bouquet of flowers now hanging from Taehyung’s hand, your own fingers were clasped awkwardly in front of you.

You were apparently everything Taehyung had painted you as earlier, Jungkook thought. Your makeup and mannerisms had an air of exaggerated innocence, while your body language was shy and sheepish. He had no problem imagining you as a weak girl that was so traumatised by the death of your first husband that you couldn’t utter a single word the following month.

The priest turned to the seated crowd, beckoning anyone that had an issue with the marriage to step forward and speak their mind. Just as Jungkook expected, no one dared make a stand, preferring to cherish the connection between their head and neck instead. Following the silence, you and Jungkook were made to stand facing each other.

Your gaze was fixed on his collar, seemingly too shy to meet Jungkook’s eyes. It only confirmed his suspicions regarding your confidence, or lack thereof.

Yet, despite your evidently timid nature and lack of intelligence, Jungkook couldn’t help but experience an uncanny feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his untrusting nature, or maybe he had just been forced to over analyse you during the long and boring sermon. But he could have sworn that there was something about you. Just… something about the way you had trouble meeting his gaze yet seemed to have no problem in scanning Taehyung up and down. For a fraction of a moment, the look in your eyes was almost calculated, as if you had been assessing him. But just as fast as Jungkook thought he saw it, the look disappeared, replaced by a timid and shy gaze once again. It left him questioning whether he had even seen it in the first place, or whether he was letting paranoia see things that weren’t there.

Finally, the priest turned to the two of you and made you both say your vows outloud. They were the standard vows, Jungkook and you putting no effort in creating a confession that you both knew was ingenuine. Instead, the two of you repeated after him, answering “I do” when the time was right. Jungkook was glad that, despite your seemingly ditzy nature, you hadn’t requested any giant romantic gestures. According to your father, you had even had no problem with Jungkook requesting that there be no kiss at the altar. It made his life a lot easier and truthfully made this entire situation a lot less awkward.

To Jungkook’s relief, the priest finally addressed the crowd once more, ending the sermon on a final note filled with hope and prosperity. He spoke about how the marriage would strengthen the two mafias, mitigating worries relating to attacks from enemies that may wish to harm them. Jungkook had already expected this part of the speech, as he had been the one to tell the priest to say those exact words.

At the end of the sermon, Jungkook and you were made to walk down the aisle back to where he knew his expensive car was waiting. He turned to you, looping his arm around yours so that you wouldn’t fall again, and guided you down the steps slowly. He noticed that your every step was still wobbly and he could feel your hand shaking as you placed it on his bicep to steady yourself further. But this time, with the veil now draped behind you, he could see the distress in your face as well. Your eyes were wide as you took in the crowd surrounding you, looking as naive as Taehyung had made you out to be.

Jungkook tried to remind himself of Taehyung’s words. About how you had barely been able to pass high school and then completely dropped out of university a month in. About how your style consisted of pink and frilly clothes that didn’t have much place in the mafia. About how, at this moment, you seemed almost scared of the crowd and attention.

A girl like that was shy and naive and ditzy. Aside from being slightly irritating, that meant you couldn’t be much of a threat to him or anyone else. If anything your incompetence would be a threat to your own self. Jungkook had nothing to worry about when it came to you.

So he tried not to be unsettled.

He tried not to be unsettled by the fact that, despite your apparently innocent and weak nature, your fingers were gripping into his bicep so hard he would no doubt wake up with a bruise tomorrow morning.

He tried not to be unsettled by the way your shy gaze, which stayed fixed on the floor, would sometimes stray upwards to almost study the crowd around you before quickly darting back to the ground.

He tried not to be unsettled when you looked up at him to give him a bashful smile, one that the logical part of him agreed looked sweet and innocent enough.

Yet, why did another part of him wonder whether there had been something else lurking behind those seemingly innocent eyes?

The only thing that Jungkook had learned about you from the car ride was that your voice was as light and soft as your appearance.

The ride in his black car decorated with gleaming small white roses and ribbons had been mostly silent, the two of you making no effort to start a conversation. Jungkook had never been one for small talk, more than content to let Taehyung talk for hours instead. The reason for your lack of conversation, though, was unknown to him.

It was only when he was speeding through the highway that you had spoken to request that he slow down a bit. Your voice had been soft and timid, as if you were scared that Jungkook would lash out at you for the simple request. Or maybe that was just the way you spoke. Considering your personality, Jungkook wouldn’t find that too hard to believe.

Now the two of you walked through the entrance of his home, your eyes taking in the grandeur of it all. Despite its vastness, Jungkook felt that this was where he felt the most comfortable: between the white and fawn walls, the elaborately designed bannisters, and the creme marble floors. His home had remained the only constant in his life and, because of that, he cherished it immensely.

There were only a few people that Jungkook had allowed inside, all of whom were people that he trusted with his life. This was the first time, he realised, that someone outside of those few was stepping foot onto the marble floor and laying their eyes on the spiralling staircase. It was an odd feeling, allowing you to enter into what he felt was the only place that truly allowed his mind and body to relax.

He observed your reaction curiously, taking in your wide eyes. They bounced from one thing to the next, each structure seeming to fascinate you more and more. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were assessing the space, but the logical part of him kept trying to reassure himself that you couldn’t possibly be considered any kind of threat.

The sound of the door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to find Taehyung walking through the doorway, a particular look on his face. Jungkook recognised it right away, causing him to turn to you for a moment while calling over one of the maids.

“Get her to the bedroom,” Jungkook commanded the maid as Taehyung stepped beside him, “and help her take off her makeup and dress into something comfortable.”

The maid nodded before she began to guide you up the flight of stairs, pointing out a few directions here and there to get you comfortable with the new environment. Jungkook watched you look back at him and Taehyung for a split second, an unreadable look in your eyes, before you faced forward once again and allowed yourself to be dragged away wordlessly.

Once you had disappeared up the stairs, Jungkook turned to Taehyung with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” He prodded.

Taehyung glanced at the top of the stairs to make sure you really were gone, “I should be asking you that. What do you think of her?”

Jungkook mulled over his question for a moment, “she seems to be everything you said she is. Although, are you sure-”

“She is one hundred percent twenty three years old. I triple checked that one,” Taehyung said immediately, hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Jungkook let his hands nestle into his pockets, wondering if he should bring up his other concerns as well. Uptil now, you haven’t actually done or said anything worth garnering suspicion. Jungkook just seemed to be picking up on small things here and there, but he wasn’t sure if those things were just him being paranoid or genuinely things that he should be cautious over. This whole marriage thing was proving to be a lot more confusing than he had initially thought.

“What is it?” Taehyung asked, noticing his friend’s silence. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, but, after earning a questioning look from Taehyung, he relented slightly.

“How well of a background check did your parents do on her?” Jungkook asked cautiously. He didn’t want Taehyung to know too much of how he was feeling at the moment, in case this was just his mind being overactive, but something in Taehyung’s expression seemed to indicate that he knew a lot more than what Jungkook was letting on.

“They did a very thorough one, of course,” Taehyung said, eyeing Jungkook knowingly, “you know my parents. If there’s one thing that they’re the best at, it’s uncovering people’s secrets.”

Then he added with a smile, “couldn’t get away with much while growing up because of it.”

Jungkook let his gaze wander around the room, “I just…”

“You’re just suspicious of her,” Taehyung finished, causing Jungkook to look his way, “of course you’re suspicious Jungkook, you’re letting a girl that you’ve never even met before into your house for the first time. It’s a natural reaction, especially considering how untrusting we’ve been conditioned to be since we were young.”

Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the back reassuringly, “I was the exact same way when I married Chaewon. Hell, in our first year of being married I even accused her of being a traitor when she was planning a surprise party for my birthday. When she finally told me… man, it took me a whole year to make it up to her. On another note, from a married man to a newly married man, don’t accuse your wife of anything unless you’re a hundred and ten percent sure of it. Otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, causing Taehyung to laugh.

“Besides, have you seen Y/N? She’s so shy and naive, her own reflection in the mirror must frighten her. I doubt you have anything to worry about, especially after my parents’ background check. Just enjoy yourself, man, it’s your wedding night,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk.

Obviously ignoring the suggestive comment, Jungkook nodded, finding logic in Taehyung’s other words. Jungkook had never been married, all of this was new to him. But if Taehyung, who had been married for almost a decade, said feelings like this were normal, then maybe he really was just being overly paranoid about the situation. You’d had a thorough background check done, which revealed nothing, and your personality was quite clear to Jungkook after he’d observed you at the wedding.

It was time Jungkook started trying to enjoy this marriage as much as he could. He was going to be stuck with you indefinitely, and constantly being suspicious of you was only going to wear him out, especially since you now had access to the only place he allowed himself to be free of the constantly vigilant and calculating mind that came with being the leader of the Jeons.

Jungkook turned to Taehyung, about to thank him for the insight, but the sound of the door opening once again caused the two to shift their gaze to behind them. The sight of the man walking through the doorway immediately had Jungkook wrinkling his nose in distaste while Taehyung’s expression had become a distant neutral. The man didn’t seem to mind the reactions if he noticed them, casually strolling deeper into the house until he was standing before the two.

“Jungkook, Taehyung,” Daehyun nodded, the respectful gesture somehow seeming more disrespectful if anything. He had clearly just come back from the wedding, still wearing his black suit and light brown hair styled back, “you just got married, yet I see only Taehyung and no bride. Shall I assume the two of you are running away together?”

The tasteless joke was followed by a deep laugh, one that belonged to neither Jungkook nor Taehyung. Instead they just stared at him with an unamused scowl.

“Relax, it’s only a joke,” he shook his head, gaze wandering the place casually, “I doubt your wife and kid would like the thought of that anyway.”

Taehyung’s jaw ticked at Daehyun’s words. Even if he hadn’t directly threatened or disrespected them in any way, just the mention of his family from his mouth was enough for Taehyung’s gaze to turn icy.

“Careful Daehyun, you’re standing before two mafia leaders,” Taehyung said, voice low and intimidating, “I would be less casual in our presence if I were you.”

To Taehyung and Jungkook’s dismay, Daehyun simply chuckled, “ah yes, but Jungkook and I are cousins. He’ll cut me some slack, won’t he?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, even after Daehyun gave his arm a lighthearted punch. Daehyun was the cousin that Jungkook could never be rid of, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was slimy and tactless and everything Jungkook hated rolled into one unbearable being. Having to give him access to his home, his only place of peace, had been one of the hardest things to do. But at the time, Jungkook had had to make sacrifices and this had been one of them.

Daehyun, undeterred by his cousin’s lack of response, leaned his arm on Jungkook’s shoulder casually, “congratulations by the way. When I saw your wife’s face- god did she look young! You’re so lucky man, I hope my future wife turns out like that.”

Jungkook grimaced as he suddenly felt the desire to wipe off any remnants of Daehyun’s touch from his suit. Daehyun had attended the same university as Taehyung and Jungkook, yet he had evidently obtained none of the class that they had. Everyday he wondered how the two of them could possibly be related. For the sake of Jungkook’s mental wellbeing, sometimes he liked to imagine Daehyun had actually been adopted and his parents had simply decided not to share that piece of information.

“I should get going,” Jungkook said stiffly, brushing his cousin’s arm off his shoulder. He fixed his suit as Daehyung smirked at him, likely thinking of Jungkook’s comment as more suggestive than he had actually meant.

Jungkook faced Taehyung to give him a curt nod before he turned and began walking up the stairs, not bothering to use the fawn iron bannisters on either side of him. He could hear Taehyung taking his leave through the front door, dragging a complaining Daehyun behind him to Jungkook’s satisfaction. The sound of the front door shutting had never sounded so delightful.

A silence ensued as Jungkook walked through the hallway upstairs, continuing until he paused in front of his bedroom’s door. He couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside the room, so, with a light knock against the white and fawn wood, his hand wrapped around the handle to turn it and finally push the door open.

The windows displayed an almost set sun, coating the atmosphere in a blanket of dimness. Everything about his bedroom had been changed. His once dark brown and white bed had been switched out for a cream and fawn coloured one, with a bouquet of vibrant red roses sitting atop the fancy and plush duvet, while his black leather couches had been replaced by light cloth ones. The ceiling and walls had been painted white, complimenting the new white and fawn patterned marble floor. His old dresser had also disappeared, a cream coloured dresser twice its size sitting in its place instead.

Aside from the drastic changes that had been made to his bedroom, no doubt to signify the change that came with marriage, the first thing Jungkook noticed was the maid who was drawing the curtains closed. The room would have fallen into complete darkness if it weren’t for the lamps sitting atop the bedside tables which were emanating a warm light around the space.

The second thing he noticed was you, who was sitting timidly on the edge of the bed and facing him. Your fingers were playing awkwardly in front of you while your gaze had been fixed on the floor, but at the sound of the door opening, your head raised to look at Jungkook. The sight of your face once again caught him off guard, the lack of makeup revealing a different side of you.

You no longer looked young. Without the innocent look that had been created with the blushes and the eyeliners and the lip glosses, Jungkook could see the mature shape of your eyes and the defined look of your features. You looked your age now, a lot more maturity prominent in your appearance.

You were pretty. Jungkook could admit that much now that you didn’t resemble a teenager. He wondered why you had done your makeup like that in the first place. He’d been to many weddings before and none of the brides had been made to look so young. Then again, Taehyung had already told him that, on top of looking innocent and naive, you seemed to dress the part as well.

“Is something wrong?” Your soft voice asked, eyes blinking innocently up at him.

Jungkook shook his head, motioning for the maid to leave the room. She gave you both a low bow before scurrying out the doorway, making sure to close the door behind her.

“No,” he finally answered. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if you were expecting anything to happen tonight, or if you even wanted anything to happen for now.

His gaze lowered as he mulled over his next actions. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a light pink, mesh lace nightgown that came all the way down to your knees with a silk bow stitched into the centre of your chest, as if your clothes were meant to compensate for the lack of makeup dolling up your features. He almost wanted to raise an eyebrow at you, but you seemed much too fragile to be ridiculed.

Alternatively, he decided to take an experimental step in your direction, surveying your reaction closely. He watched your fingers close tighter around the duvet on which you sat, your gaze hesitantly darting everywhere but him. That was answer enough for him to know how far you were ready to take it tonight. So instead, he passed the bed, opting instead to drop onto the couch on the far end of the room. While he was facing you, you had to turn your head to keep him in your sights.

“What would you like to do now?” He asked you, resting an arm over the back of the couch while he crossed an ankle over his knee.

Your gaze dropped to your lap, watching your fingers fidget against each other nervously. It was almost as if having to answer a question like that had you stressed, which again made Jungkook wonder how you had survived growing up in a mafia family. How could you have been this weak?

“I-I don’t know,” you squeaked, not able to meet his gaze.

Jungkook sighed, turning his head to the side to survey the room. Technically, the two of you could just call it a night and go to sleep. You were clearly too shy to even speak a word to him, and Jungkook had never been one to beg others for things. Only time would tell how well the two of you would get to know each other.

But then Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the coffee table in front of him, noticing some sort of gift basket placed in its centre. It was obviously a wedding gift, filled with chocolates, scented candles, roses… and some wine and champagne. Jungkook has always been more of a whiskey guy, but right now he’d take just about anything.

“Why don’t we have a drink?” He suggested, uncrossing his leg so that he could lean forward and grab the top of the expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He prayed you weren’t one of those people that didn’t drink, your innocent personality couldn’t possibly extend all the way to drinking as well.

You paused for a moment, taking in the bottle in Jungkook’s hand, before slowly nodding your head, to Jungkook’s relief.

He beckoned you over with his free hand, “come here.”

You hesitated before slowly pushing yourself off the bed and took small steps towards him. Jungkook waited patiently until you were standing right in front of the couch, hands clasped shyly in front of you while your gaze stayed glued to the floor. He held up the bottle of wine and champagne in front of you, hoping you weren’t so dumb that you wouldn’t understand the question in his actions. Thankfully you studied the two bottles before a shaky hand raised and tapped against the bottle of champagne.

He pushed the bottle in your direction, forcing you to take it in your own hands, before standing up from the couch. The unexpected action seemed to scare you, causing you to immediately take a timid step backwards while you hugged the bottle to your chest. Jungkook had to suppress a tired, and maybe even slightly annoyed sigh, as he manoeuvred past you. He was trying to be patient, but this was becoming ridiculous.

“You get that open while I wash up,” he said to you, pointing at the bottle still pressed to your chest, “okay?”

You nodded slowly, allowing him to turn away from you and walk into the joint bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him he let out the sigh he had suppressed earlier. You really were… something. He couldn’t believe he had been suspicious of you earlier when you could barely even function properly, much less be any sort of threat. It was irritating, Jungkook felt, to have someone so incompetent for a wife. He wondered if he would have to break you out of that shell. You were the wife of a mafia leader now after all, you had to keep up at least some air of confidence in the presence of others so that you didn’t make him look weak.

Jungkook walked over to the sink and turned it on, splashing some cold water on his face before he began brushing his teeth. You were far from his ideal type, and he doubted this marriage would ever stem into whatever Taehyung and Chaewon had going on. Hell, he was wondering how the two of you could ever even produce an heir. You’d probably spontaneously combust if he even tried to touch you. And besides, he didn’t really want to touch you if he was being honest. You reminded him too much of a weak and helpless child, which was obviously a huge turn off. He may have been a mafia leader, but he wasn’t a complete monster.

Jungkook placed his toothbrush into the holder after spitting into the sink, drying himself off with one of the towels hanging near him. He was about to start changing into more comfortable clothes, only getting as far as unbuttoning the first few buttons of his black collar shirt, before a crashing sound rang from the bedroom. In less than a second he had pushed out of the bathroom, immediately scanning the bedroom before him as his hand automatically sought out the gun at his side.

It took him a moment to realise the lack of intruders in the room, and then another to take in your completely unharmed form. You were standing with your hands covering your mouth, looking down at the ground. Jungkook followed your gaze to find the champagne bottle rolling along the marble floor, still entirely intact. You had clearly dropped the thing accidentally, causing Jungkook to place his gun back in his waistband.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you squeaked, bending down quickly to pick up the bottle. Suppressing a huff, Jungkook walked over to you to take it from your hands.

“Here, let me do it,” he said, taking two of the crystal champagne flutes from the gift basket and placing them on the glass coffee table as he sat himself down on the couch, distantly annoyed at the fact that you couldn’t even pour a glass of champagne by yourself. Was this seriously what he was going to have to deal with from now on?

He tipped the bottle, filling both glasses to the brim with the bubbling liquid as you hesitantly sat yourself down on the couch to his left. His gaze fell on you as he was about to offer you one of the flutes, but paused when he noticed the look on your face. For the first time since he met you, you looked almost… excited. Usually your eyes would be downturned and focused on the floor, but this time they were fixed on the crystal glasses before you as if you were eager to taste the expensive liquid. Jungkook made a note of it, tucking it into the back of his mind for later.

“Take one,” he said as he motioned towards one of the glasses, but to his surprise you hesitantly shook your head. Your expression had turned timid once again, any hint of excitement from earlier entirely gone. He narrowed his eyes at you as he wondered if he had just imagined it. It had barely been there anyway.

“I don’t drink,” you said in your signature soft tone, not able to meet his gaze. Of course you don’t, Jungkook thought irritatedly, god forbid the princess touch a glass of champagne. He knew the thought was immature, but there was no way he was the most immature person in the room at the moment.

He pushed himself off the couch, very much aware that his patience was starting to wear thin, “well then I guess we should call it a night.”

But before he could step towards the bed, your hand shot out, clutching the edge of his sleeve with your fingers. He immediately looked down at your still seated form, a question in his eyes. You had to look away for a moment, seemingly collecting your nerves, before you met his gaze once again.

“Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t,” you said, “I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because of me. Please stay.”

Jungkook noticed the evident guilt in your eyes as your fingers continued to stay enclosed around the edge of his sleeve. When he didn’t move, you hesitantly leaned forward to gently pick up one of the glasses and then slowly presented it to him. His gaze shifted to the glass in your hand, pausing for only a moment, before he took it from you. He let himself sink back onto the couch as he studied you.

You continued to sit in your spot on the sofa, posture still timid. Your gaze bounced from one part of the floor to the next, while your expression remained shy. But there was something else lurking behind the expression. If Jungkook focused well enough, he could have sworn the edges of your lips were turned slightly upwards. It was so faint that it might have not even been there, but the more he focused, the more prominent it became to him.

A naive part of him might have thought it was from being successful in getting him to stay and have the drink, but the more logical part of him had already latched onto an idea, one that refused to be swept to the side any longer.

His gaze lowered to your collarbone, a glint from the heart-shaped necklace resting over your soft skin catching his attention. Unlike earlier, he noticed that the metal heart was actually a locket, and that its two sides were slightly open. It couldn’t have been ajar by more than a millimetre, but Jungkook still noted it down in his mind.

His gaze then ascended to your face, still a perfect picture of innocence. Your eyes were widened to resemble a curious doe, while your lips were pulled into a timid line. The hands resting in your lap fumbled with each other shyly, really completing the look.

Finally, his gaze dropped to the drink in his hand. He brought it closer to his face, as if he were about to take a sip, before eyeing the expensive liquid. His gaze fixed on the miniscule bubbles that continued travelled from the bottom of the flute to its surface, causing it to sizzle.

Jungkook slowly leaned forward, keeping his eye on his drink as he brought it away from his lips and instead calmly set it down on the coffee table before him. He then easily pushed himself off of the couch, which caused your brows to jump. There was an apparent question in your expression, one you decided to voice out loud.

“Is something wrong with the drink?” You asked, voice still soft as your doe eyes looked up at him through your lashes.

Ignoring the question, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the coffee table and slowly pushed it forward so that it was farther away from your seated form. The action caused you to blink.

“Is everything okay?” You tried again slowly.

But Jungkook then faced you, assessing you for a moment, before he took a few steps in your direction. You had to crane your neck upwards to continue meeting his gaze, his tall form towering over your seated one. This time your brows pulled together, eyes still doe-like, as you continued to question his actions.

“Jungko-”

Jungkook didn’t let you finish. The second you opened your mouth his large hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your neck, slamming your head into the seat of the couch. You squeaked at the sudden violence, immediately clawing at the fingers now enclosed around your throat. But your efforts were nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s iron hold.

“J-Jungkook, you’re h-hurting me!” You let out a choked cry, continuing to put up a weak fight against Jungkook. Tears had already started to coat your eyes and run down your cheeks, but Jungkook ignored them completely. He watched you struggle, fascinated by the way you thrashed around like an animal yet every jab at him was weak and ineffective. There was no sign of the strength he had noticed when you had grabbed onto his bicep earlier, so hard that he was sure it would leave a bruise. It was enough to make him grin.

Jungkook lowered his face so that his lips neared your ear, his body still hovering over your smaller form.

“If you wanted to kill me princess, you’ll have to do a better job than that,” he said, voice low. Your eyes widened even further as you continued to struggle against him, making pitiful noises that didn’t move him in the slightest.

“K-Kill?! What are y-you talking about?!” You continued to choke out as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your hands had moved to his chest, desperately trying to push him away, yet failing miserably in the process. Jungkook tilted his head at your weak plea, eager to hear what other ways you’d beg him to let you go.

“P-please-” You began, but then cut yourself off abruptly when your tear-filled gaze met his. You must have seen something in his eyes, because he felt your body slacken, no longer desperate to fight him despite his hold on your neck cutting off your lung’s supply of air.

Instead you studied him, really studied him. He could see the same calculated look you had used on Taehyung earlier during the wedding. It was as if you were assessing Jungkook, picking out his strengths and weaknesses to figure out how you could use them to your advantage. He watched you weigh options in your head patiently before you finally tilted your head to the side calmly and shot him a look. In response, Jungkook decided to loosen his grip on your throat. He watched you catch your breath for a moment before you spoke.

“Well, you’re already smarter than the first one,” you commented, but your voice was entirely different. It was no longer soft and timid, rather it was a lot more deep and confident. He watched your expression change in the same manner. Your once wide and innocent looking eyes narrowed into a more matured look, while your lips straightened into more of a dangerously amused grin than a naive pout.

Then he processed your words. The ‘first one’ had to be your first husband, who Taehyung had explained had been killed on his wedding day. Taehyung had mentioned that a rival gang had been the one to murder him, but the actual one responsible for his death was clear to Jungkook now.

“Do you make it a hobby to poison your husbands’ drinks on their wedding nights?” He asked, hand still wrapped around your throat. He had situated himself between your legs, his own leg pushing one of yours against the back of the couch while his free hand pushed the other down against the seat of the couch. The position ensured you wouldn’t be able to kick him, while his body hovering over your own seemed to take care of the rest of you. You were smart enough not to try anything anyway, knowing Jungkook’s strength was incomparable to yours.

You shrugged, panting at the limited oxygen entering your lungs, “golf just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.”

“Golf? How can a weak and helpless girl like you play such a sport?” Jungkook couldn’t help but quip, bordering on mocking you. It only made you grin, clearly no hint of offence in your expression.

He studied your nonchalant demeanour curiously. You had tried to kill him, and he should send your head back to your father’s doorstep for it. And yet, you couldn’t have looked any less composed with his hand around your neck. Either you were a complete idiot, which seemed much less likely now that he was starting to see your real character, or you believed you had the upper hand in this situation.

“You’re quite calm for someone I should have killed,” he noted, meaning for it to be a threat. But once again you didn’t seem deterred. In fact, the comment seemed to amuse you even more.

“Just because you should have me killed doesn’t mean you’ll actually have me killed.”

Jungkook’s brow raised, finding an opportunity to prod you further, “and why won’t I have you killed? Your father sent you here to kill me under the pretence of an alliance. I should start a war for this.”

You nodded, “but you see, my father did send me here to form an alliance. The whole killing you idea was all mine.”

Jungkook scoffed at the lame attempt at a lie, “you expect me to believe that?”

But you scoffed as well, meeting his gaze just as vehemently. It was an odd sight considering you had spent the entire day trying to make yourself small and avoiding his gaze. Yet here you were now, eyes ablaze like a thrashing fire. Not a spontaneously violent fire either, no Jungkook could very easily handle that. You were more like an electrical fire. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he had to be cautious around you, and that trusting any word that came out of your mouth was dangerous.

“Prove it then,” he challenged, tightening his hold on your neck for a moment to remind you of your vulnerability.

“I don’t need to prove anything,” you said, a hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, “just go ahead and mention to my father that I’m not a complete airhead that’s afraid of her own shadow. He’ll laugh in your face and call you a moron.”

The revelation that your father was just as clueless about your true self as everyone else only confirmed his initial thoughts. It also proved he couldn’t have trusted you to carry out an assassination attempt, meaning your father really did genuinely want an alliance with the Jeons. That was perfect, because Jungkook had certain plans that relied on this partnership. It was a relief that they hadn’t gone to waste.

“If it wasn’t your father’s idea, then why did you poison my drink?” He asked with a raised brow.

Silence filled the room following his question, one that allowed you both to hear the sounds of the wall clock. He got the feeling that you were contemplating something once again, planning out your next move.

Then you squirmed underneath him, seemingly getting comfortable, but Jungkook knew better than to believe whatever you appeared as. The second your hand went for the gun wedged in his waistband, he grabbed your wrist, pining it against the couch, while the hand that had been around your throat pulled out the matte black weapon. He slowly brought it to your temple with an amused grin.

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have just asked,” he taunted, bringing the gun down so that its barrel lifted your chin, “now, I asked a question princess.”

You huffed, your amusement finally falling to give him a half-hearted glare.

“I want a divorce.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the laugh that sounded from his lips at your straightforwardness. You just tried to kill him, it didn’t take a genius to work out that you weren’t a fan of this marriage and wanted out of it.

It was an arranged marriage after all, and even though all arranged marriages didn’t equal a forced marriage, technically he couldn’t be certain that this marriage was of your own choice or not. For all he knew, you had some secret lover waiting for you back home, your marriage with Jungkook coming between the star crossed romance. The thought made his jaw tick. He was far from in love with you, but Jungkook tended to be territorial about what was his. And you were his wife at the moment.

You, on the other hand, seemed surprised by his reaction, as if it was the last thing you expected him to do.

“I mean you obviously want one now too, right?” You asked with your brows furrowed.

Jungkook didn’t respond, and that only seemed to make you more agitated.

“I’m not the wife that you want. You clearly can’t stand me when I have my ditzy front pulled up and you can’t trust me when I don’t.”

Although the points that you were making were true, there was one important factor you were missing, and that was the alliance between the Jeons and the Lees. Jungkook needed this alliance to, at the very least make himself seem like, he was more powerful than the Parks and the Mins. And with their recent moves -with what he saw at the docks just last night- he needed this alliance now more than ever. So while he normally would have had you executed and then sent your head to your father’s doorstep for your little assassination attempt, this time he was going to have to sweep his pride to the side.

Jungkook placed his free hand next to your head as he pushed himself up, choosing instead to stay standing in front of the sofa. His intense gaze dropped to your still form while his gun hung from his fingers firmly.

“No,” he finally said, causing your brows to jump.

You quickly pushed yourself off the couch to stand just as he was, but Jungkook didn’t move. With the sofa right behind you, barring you from taking a few steps back, that left you and him standing dangerously close to each other. The bow from your nightgown pressed against his partly unbuttoned black collar shirt, while its edge grazed his dress pants. Jungkook could feel the heat of your breath raise goosebumps from his exposed collarbone.

“Why not? I’m not the wife that you want.”

He smiled at the bite in your words, finding your frustration amusing, “you’ve got it all wrong. I simply wanted a wife to make the Lees allies, nothing more.”

Like a fire set alight, your eyes flashed in anger, “I won’t change. I’ll still be your idiot wife that will make you look weak.”

It was true that most wives of mafia leaders were strong and confident beings, symbols of their husbands’ power, and that having a wife like you may be a slightly risky choice. But Jungkook was sure his carefully established reputation could take the hit. Besides, although you might make him look weak, your marriage with him would make him far from actually weak.

“You think divorcing you won’t make me look weak?” Jungkook decided to say, unsure of if he was saying it to play with you more or to make sure you don’t believe your threats are inconveniencing him, “you’ve fooled everyone with your ditzy facade. A divorce will make them think I wasn’t able to tame a naive girl. You think people will accept me as a leader then?”

You didn’t react to the point, giving him the feeling that you might have already known that might pose an issue for him. Perhaps you thought his reputation could take the hit? When Jungkook really thought about it, it probably could have. He’d worked hard to be both feared and respected for years, a divorce like this, while questionable in the eyes of the people under him, could have been pushed under the rug given time. But the alliance was too important to him.

And that was something he needed to make sure you knew.

“That means you will continue to be my wife,” he settled, lowering his gaze so that it met yours with unwavering finality, “so you’ll continue to act like it.”

Jungkook felt his voice naturally lower, a hint of a threat evident in his tone, “listen to me well, Y/N. I don’t care if you act like the dumbest woman on Earth or the most sultry. Regardless, what you will act like is my wife. When we’re outside of this bedroom, we will laugh together, we will hug each other, and we will do whatever other damn thing married couples do so that no one doubts this relationship.”

“And if I don’t?” You bit, the speed of your reply making his jaw tick.

“If you don’t, you can stay locked in this bedroom until you learn how to behave. Understood?”

Your rage couldn’t have been more prominent, with a fierce glare burning right through him and a pair of fisted hands at your sides. Yet Jungkook ignored it all, instead meeting your gaze coolly as he waited for your confirmation.

It took a long moment to come, so long that Jungkook thought it wasn’t going to come at all. But eventually he noticed you nod your head. It was barely a movement, your head tipping down slightly before resuming its earlier place, but it was enough for him despite your unwavering glare.

He finally took a few steps back, thrusting the barrel of his gun once again into the waistband of his pants. Your angry form, on the other hand, didn’t move, opting instead to stand perfectly still despite your calves pressing into the sofa behind you. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen onto his forehead away from his face.

“Good, then we’re done here.”

He finally turned away from you, eyeing the door on his left intently. But before he could move towards it, your words made him pause.

“I just tried to kill you,” you commented before he turned to question its randomness. He found you sitting on the sofa once again, an eerily thoughtful look lurking behind your rage-filled eyes, “how will you know I won’t do it again?”

Jungkook tilted his head in response.

“You can try all you want, princess,” he said, liking the feeling of that nickname on his tongue more and more. It was almost addicting, “but you won’t succeed.”

Then his lips curled into a sly smirk, “after all, what kind of husband would I be if I barred my wife from her hobbies?”

He was able to just barely catch the roll of your eyes before he turned and pushed through the door he had been eyeing earlier, his hands automatically locking it behind him as he casually surveyed his office. The room had been spared from the new gleaming white and fawn furniture which had taken over his bedroom. Instead, it was filled with familiar dark brown.

Refined dark oak wood shelves and cabinets lined the walls except for the wall behind his large desk, which was made up entirely of a bookshelf filled to the brim with various hardcovers. For the sake of matching with the rest of the house, the marble floor had been done a light fawn colour, while another wall was made up of bulletproof glass, its centre having the ability to slide open to reveal a decent sized balcony.

Jungkook shrugged off his blazer as he made his way to his desk, laying the piece of cloth over the back of his black leather chair, before he opened the glass cabinet behind it. He didn’t need to think much as his fingers expertly curled around an expensive bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass. Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside on his balcony overlooking his estate, one hand holding the crystal glass filled halfway with light brown liquid while the other clutched the iron railing.

His gaze bounced around his estate for a peaceful moment as he took a sip from his glass, taking in the expanse of the luscious green field bordering the neatly done driveway despite the darkness of the night. In its centre was an intricately designed white fountain spewing water in four different directions, but all of which emptied systematically into the white basin at its base. The estate itself stretched for metres, the gates enclosing the space barely visible from where he was standing. Jungkook’s thoughts bounced around his head just as quickly as his gaze.

What a day it had been. At first, you’d been a complete idiot, one that had irritated him to no extent with your doe eyes and evident shyness.

But then you had turned out to be an entirely different species, far from the innocent and ditzy girl he’d labelled you as. You were cunning and feisty and seemingly very much ready for a divorce.

Jungkook felt the corners of his lips pull upwards into a grin as he took another sip of his whisky.

You were quite the enigma.

But he was going to enjoy the challenge.

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!

2K notes · View notes

miirohs · 4 months

Text

écoute chérie [c.l.c]

pairing: Mob Boss!Charles Leclerc x Assistant!Reader wc: 3.2k cw: assult, possesive behavior (standard for a mob au at this point), bro straight up kills someone, dubcon (again icarus?), shitty french an: i absolutely cannot write but anyways if this flops i'm deleting it and then crying!!! also do you guys ever just write y/n and put her in predicaments and then go womp womp as if you didn't just do that to her? yeah.

It was fairly obvious from the subtle twitch in his jaw, to the shadow cast over his eyes by strands of his hair falling in front, that he wasn’t happy. From the moment you both had left the guarded gates of his mansion, his face has been set in a stony silence.

You’d seen him glance over at you multiple times during the length of the car ride, and it was becoming harder to ignore his erratic behavior.

Just as he looked away you reached for him, startling him from his distracted state as you moved to fix his suit, readjusting his crooked tie and straightening out the collar of his suit. Immediately you snapped back up to him looking at you, a curious look on his face.

“You should be more careful with your suits.” You chastised softly, snapping back to your seat as the heat rose to your face. “Tossing and turning around like that will probably make it wrinkle up.”

He nodded in agreement, giving you the smallest smile he could muster. You could still see the upset in his eyes as he looked at you, and you came to a slow realization of what might’ve been upsetting him.

“Are you mad with me for coming along with you?”

His smile faded a little, the frustration in his eyes visible. He never wanted this for you, but he knew he couldn’t stop you from coming along, so he resorted to simply reminding you why he didn’t want to bring you.

“Mon coeur, I’m not mad at you at all. I'm just hesitant because I know what my people are like.”

You sighed, readjusting the straps of your dress as you looked at him. “Yes Charles, you’ve made that exceptionally clear but i don’t think you quite had a choice. Carlos didn’t even want to talk about going with you.”

He winced at your tone, tilting his head at you as he bent his own head down to your level. “I know I keep saying this, but you don’t know them like I do. I don't want you leaving my side, not to anywhere I cannot see you chérie. Do you understand?”

You took one of his hands in yours, nodding along to keep his anxiety in check. “Fine, I wasn’t planning on going just anywhere, I came with you because that's my job.”

“And your job is?”

“To be with you, twenty-four seven, whenever you need me.” You said teasingly as a cheeky smile graced his face once again, slightly more genuine than the last.

The car came to a stop, and you looked at each other, turning to the door of the car.

“Ladies first.”

You rolled your eyes at him, obliging to climb out first as the door opened.

Your jaw dropped as you looked up to the entrance of the building. You didn’t think you were quite aware this level of grandeur could be possible, and you were honestly expecting something more inconspicuous.

Linking up his arm in yours, Charles bent down a little as you started walking, whispering into your ear.

“You look surprised. I bet you weren’t expecting this, huh?”

“Surprised doesn’t even begin to cover it. It’s gorgeous.”

“Wait till you see the inside.”

You continued with him, eyes growing wider at the inside.

Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, intricate detailing all over the grand foyer as you surveyed the walls.

Charles walked with you through corridors, once again tensing up, evident in the tightness of his grip on your arm. You could see an ornate set of doors at the end of the hall, approaching them slower and slower.

You paused at the door, looking up to him as he inhaled deeply.

“Are you-”

“Ready? Of course I am.” He didn’t look at you, but you gave no further thought to his words as the doors opened, the crowds of people gathered visible from the mezzanine you both stood on. The ballroom almost glittered, light bouncing off almost every corner of the room.

“Char, if i had known this was going to be fancy, i would’ve dressed up better.” You said, aghast as he shook his head, looking at you with a hint of affection in his smile.

“You’re dazzling no matter what, mon coeur. There’s no need to worry, you’ll be just fine.”

“I- Alright.” You agreed hesitantly, arm slipping from his as you followed him down the stairs.

There were so many bodies on the floor you had a hard time following him, resorting to holding onto his sleeves to navigate through the crowds. He greeted people, and you did the same in his stead, unsure where exactly you were headed. Suddenly, Charles came to a stop in front of you, and you slammed into him, stumbling back slightly.

“Charles, what just happened, I...” You paused as he stood motionless, stepping to peer from behind him.

Another man stood there, head tilted as you curiously as you moved to Charles side. He wore all black, jacket embroidered with flowers and a necklace that resembled a thorn necklace. He seemed fancy, but something about the way he looked at you made it feel like you were being microanalyzed by him.

“Lewis.”

“Charles. A pleasure seeing you again.”

He nodded, relaxing slightly as the man took his hand, shaking it firmly.

“And who might this be?”

You waved, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I’m-”

“She’s my assistant.”

“Char, calm down.” You chided, ignoring how his tone almost instantly seemed to become sharp, nose flaring slightly. Clearly Lewis noticed as well, raising his eyebrow at how his tone seemed to change so suddenly.

“I’m sorry, my name is Y/n. I’m his assistant, as he mentioned before.” He took your hand, offering you a kiss to the knuckles with a smile.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Y/n. Are you new or…?”

“This is her first social event with me.” Charles butt in, arms crossed over as Lewis grinned at him. “Hm, I figured half as much. I haven’t seen much of her around, you should bring her more often. She seems pleasant.”

“Wonderful. Now is there anything else you want?” Charles answered, tone short and clipped as you frowned at his sudden defensiveness. Lewis hummed knowingly, sparing you a glance before he went back to talking to Charles.

“The negotiations are upstairs. We were just waiting for you to start, and I think Carlos got here maybe twenty minutes before you?”

He nodded curtly in response, taking your hand as he started moving.

Lewis looked down at him though as he shook his head, pointing to your hands.

“Sorry to break it to you mate, but she can’t come with us.”

“Why not?” Charles snapped, clearly annoyed by his sudden announcement.

“It’d be better for the both of you. I doubt you want her in on the grizzly details, it would only put her at risk, more so than working for you. Leave one of your guards with her if you want to, although I promise she’ll be just fine here.” He knew he couldn’t argue with that, it was apparent in the way his face fell at the realization.

“I have to go now, but we'll be waiting for you upstairs.” Lewis said as he waved goodbye to you, turning on his heel to leave the both of you alone to the side.

Charles sighed, glowering at the man's back as he turned to you.

“Écoute chérie (listen darling), it seems like Lewis has a point.” He started, reluctance written all over his expression. “So I'm leaving you here with one of the guards. I don't want you to put yourself in any unnecessary danger, so please keep them with you and talk instantly if anything happens.”

You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t disappointed, but it did make sense to you. "I understand, Char, I'll be here when you come back."

He visibly relaxed, though there was still a hint of concern in his eyes. "Thank you, chérie. I promise I won't be long."

You gave him a small smile. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

With a short squeeze of your hand, Charles reluctantly left your side, disappearing into the crowd once more.

Left alone with the guard that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, you took a deep breath, turning around to him.

"Looks like it's just you and me for now," you said, trying to break the ice with the bodyguard, who simply blinked at you.

“Not one to talk much, huh?” He cleared his throat, bashfully turning his eyes away from you.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but i'm pretty sure Mr. Leclerc wouldn’t like me looking at you.” You stifled a sigh, simply flashing a smile at him.

“Would you like to have a drink with me then…?”

“Ollie.” He finished, even more bashful than before as scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “And I'm sorry ma’am. I don’t think I'm allowed to drink on the job, Mr. Leclerc would kill me if something happened to you.”

Awkward silence filled the air as you sighed, looking around the ballroom.

You didn’t think there was anyone you could talk to other than him, so you were stuck with him for the rest of the night.

It wasn’t half bad either, but he followed you quite closely, almost as if carefully noting every single thing you were doing. Even as you made minor convos, he stood beside you, too close for it to be comfortable for either of you. He took his job seriously, a little too seriously, you thought.

At some point, you paused, turning around to him with your hands crossed over your chest.

"Ollie, do you have orders to stand so close? It's making me feel a bit claustrophobic."

He blinked, obviously taken aback by your directness. "I'm sorry miss. I was just told to keep an eye on you, Mr. Leclerc's orders."

You nodded, slight frustration rising up as he mentioned Charles' name. "I appreciate your dedication, but I promise I won't just wander off.”

He hesitated, yet still nodded to your request. "Is there anything I can do then?"

A lightbulb seemed to go off in your head as he asked, a grin stretching across your face as you looked at him.

"I think I'll go get a drink. Would you mind keeping an eye on things here until I come back?"

he relented with a nod, albeit with a hint of concern in his eyes.

"Alright, but please don't wander too far. I'll be right here waiting for you to get back."

You nodded sweetly, yet as soon as you left his field of vision, you grabbed a glass off a tray, pushing gently through the crowds.

You weren’t a lightweight by any means, but there was rarely ever a time where you drank because of your job.

Before you knew it, you’d finished off the glass, abandoning it on the buffet table and grabbing another one as you made your way back into the crowd.

At some point you saw Ollie again, distracted as he talked to two other boys of his same age. You decided not to interrupt, walking past them and slipping through the open doors on the opposite end of the hall.

The air was cool, fragrant from all the flowers planted around the place. As you wandered along the winding paths, you observed the little statues and carefully trimmed hedges, detailing meticulously crafted to fit the vibes of the garden.

But your peace was short-lived, as the unmistakable sound of footsteps grew louder. Turning around, you were met with the leering faces of a group of men, their laughter echoing through the night air as they drunkenly stumbled through the hedges. They were creating a ruckus loud enough to attract a crowd.

You froze, not a sound escaping your lips as you looked at them.

Clearly they hadn’t noticed you, so you took a step back, hoping to get away.

Something snapped under your heel and they all stopped acting buck wild, turning to you with wide eyes.

“Ouh, Qui est cette femme, juste là (ooh, who's that woman right there)?”

Shock ran through your veins as the one who spoke pointed to you, eyes turning towards you in a moment. A couple laughed, one of them whistled, all of them looking you up and down like a piece of meat.

“I think she might be one of those escort people they hire at parties y’know… you think we should greet her?”

Their leering gazes made your skin crawl.

Quickly you turned on your heel, heading in the opposite direction, hoping to lose them quickly as you attempted to get back. Your heart pounded in your chest as you continued, their drunken roasts getting farther from you. You still felt paranoid, but you were pretty sure you had lost them.

As you turned around, a hand shot out from the darkness, grabbing hold of your wrist harshly. You were whirled around to face your assailant, one of the men from the group you’d seen earlier, one of the ones who had whistled at you.

"Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?" he sneered, drunken breath hot against your face as he sneered at you, a wicked grin on his face.

He had you cornered against one of the hedges, and you had nowhere to run as he got closer, trying to grab your other hand.

“You’re cute, you think the boss would like it if we sent him back a little present like you-”

You panicked, kicking wildly until you landed a kick to his nuts, breaking free from his grip around your wrists as he staggered back in pain.

“You bitch-!”

The sound of a warning shot silenced his swears of pain, the only thing you could hear now being the buzzing in your ear.

You turned your head, Charles saying something, but you couldn’t exactly hear it as he approached, an angry yet relieved loon on his face.

“Do you know how long we’ve been looking for you?!”

You didn’t respond and he knew why, turning to look across from you at the man who glared at the both of you in anger.

"We'll discuss this later," he said, tone softer this time as he turned his attention back to you, helping you up onto a cold stone bench.

“You. Get lost. Don’t let me see you here ever again.”

"Or what?" The man spat, voice dripping with contempt at Charles' order. "You think you can scare me off with your empty threats?"

“I don’t think it’ll be so empty if i-,” He pulled out his gun from the waistband of his pants, aiming it at the mans groin, then moving to his head, “-happen to give you a demonstration of what exactly happens when you fuck with something of mine.”

The color drained from the man's face. Maybe he had just come to realize who he was fucking with.

“She was yours? I’m sorry, I didn't know!”

“Save it.” He hissed, cocking the gun and aiming it directly at his head. “I’ll make sure that you les fils de putes never see the light of day again.”

It was over in the blink of an eye, with just the sound of a gun being fired, followed by the thumping of a body.

You hadn’t even realized it when he came to you, wrapping his jacket around you as he picked you up, allowing to you bury your face in his neck.

"I've got you," he whispered. "You'll be fine now."

As he turned to exit, Lewis had finally shown up, standing at the entrance with an eyebrow raised at the dead body then you.

“Do i get to ask-”

“No.” Charles answered stonily. voice clearly agitated as he responded to Lewis. “Make sure those creeps get taken care of. I already had the pleasure of taking care of one of them.”

“Duly noted. It was nice seeing you, and you must be busy with… her, so I’ll be off to take care of the others then.” He said, as he signaled to his bodyguards to comb through the area.

“Thank you.” He said begrudgingly as he lifted you up once again.

You could feel him retracing his steps, motion blurred until you stopped at the entrance once more, in front of his car.

Gently, he set you down and you still clung to him, shaking slightly as you climbed into the seat.

He followed after you, directing the man in french as he put an arm around you, pulling you somewhat closer.

“Wh.. what happened to Ollie?”

The look of concern turned to a look of slight annoyance, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

“Even now you’re thinking of someone else, mon coeur. What am i going to do with you?”

You stumbled over your words, yet you were resolute in what you wanted to say.

“Please don’t punish him, i was the one who left him.”

“Don’t worry, no one is getting punished. But you, however-”

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the barrelage of words to hit you, yet nothing did. Instead, one of his hands came up to hold your face, thumb gently stroking your jaw.

“Mon petit coeur, m'écoutes-tu parfois (sweetheart, do you ever listen to me)?”

You opened your eyes, looking at him.

“Do you have any idea how scared I was? That I thought another man took you from me? I warned you what would happen, and yet you still came. See what happened?” His grip on your jaw tightened slightly, tilting your head upwards so you were looking him in the eyes.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"You have nothing to apologize for, mon coeur. In fact, it should be me who apologizes." he murmured, his voice soothing compared to his actions.

“But then why…?”

“Je t'aime (I love you). It’s because I love you, I want you. More than anything.”

Charles's lips met yours in a kiss, overpowering the adrenaline in your veins as he titled his head, pushing deeper into the kiss. You could feel his overwhelming warmth as he pulled you closer, body to body in the back of the car.

As you broke it off, the heat rose to your face at the string of saliva connecting you both. You tried to pull away but he only seemed to get closer, eye to eye with you.

"Charles?" you breathed, longing erupting like your heart, beating against the cage of your ribs.

“Listen to me chérie, I should’ve never let you go like that. You’re going to be mine now, that way I can keep you safe, Is that clear?” He murmured against your lips, voice dark yet pleading. You couldn’t help but look into his eyes, lovesick and blinded by adoration.

With a soft sigh, you leaned into him, forehead against his as you let yourself be enveloped by the warmth of his embrace.

There was no escaping him. You were his as he was yours. You could never escape, now that he had you like this.

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chaconnenha · 5 months

Text

⸝⸝ ❛ i' m in love with a fairytale . . .

╰ ❪ ꕤ ❫ ENHYPEN ( HYUNG LINE ) as disney princes !

en- hyung line x fem!reader ʬʬʬ───includes. swoon-worthy princes, fluff, romance, minor angst, kissing, violence, abusive & toxic households, semi-nudity, word dumps/messy writing . . . ( MAKNAE LINE VER. found here ) BACK TO LIBRARY ?!

LEE HEESEUNG as PRINCE ERIC ( THE LITTLE MERMAID ) !

when you pulled him to the shore from the wreckage of his sunken ship, and you felt the sand on the shore for the very first time, you knew you could never go back to how things were… and when you fell for him for the very first time, you knew you would never be able to love anyone else. but he had someone else now—a princess, who could speak, could laugh, could tell him just how much she loved him… you were just a mermaid who traded her voice for legs; a silly girl who used forks as a hairbrush, and couldn’t walk two steps before tumbling over the other. there was no way he would fall for you… or so you thought.

you had no idea his love for you ran deeper than the ocean that you saved him from. that the moment he found out you were missing and nowhere to be found, he felt his heart drop in his chest right down to his stomach. or that the first thing he did was send his guards out to every corner of the city in search of you, hoping that he didn’t just lost you forever. and that was why, when he saw you standing at the beach where he met you for the first time, he couldn’t hold back his feelings. not after reading the letter you left behind for him, saying that you were leaving him so that he could marry someone who wasn’t you. he wasted no time in chasing you down before you could even set foot in the sea, his arm grabbing yours and hauling you to his chest, as if you were the one sinking this time, and it was his job to pull you back to shore.

you couldn’t even gasp in surprise before his lips were on yours, swallowing your protests like he was drowning again, and you were his last pocket of air. “don’t ever leave me like that again,” he panted between desperate kisses, his arms pressing you even more firmly against his body. you stared at him in shock as salty tears ran down his beautiful face, reflecting the ones that fell down yours not too long ago. “please,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “i love you too much to let you go.”

PARK JEONGSEONG as PRINCE CHARMING ( CINDERELLA ) !

you were used to being treated like a trampled flower in the dirt. the moment your father passed away and left you in the care—or rather, the mercy—of your stepmother, you had learnt to tuck away your dreams in the back of your mind, where they would remain unrealised, yes, but at the very least, untouched by the hands of your wicked stepsisters, who would not hesitate to tear them into shreds like the did your mother’s precious gown.

but the prince was different. you could still remember his handsome face and his gentle smile, the way his calloused hands held your waist ever so gently while the two of you danced beneath the light of the crystal chandeliers and the burning eyes of a hundred spectators. would he be disappointed if he couldn’t find the girl who fit the glass slipper you left behind? you hoped not, for you had no doubt there would be princesses all around the world eager to fill the spot that you missed… and yet, they couldn’t. because they weren’t you. he made that clear when he broke through the door with the force of the men at his beck and call, eyes searching frantically until they landed on your figure—-dressed in rags and covered in ashes.

you scrambled to your feet, your face burning in shame as you bowed your head. you almost wished he didn’t find you here, if only to spare him the disappointment of realising that the girl he had been chasing was no princess, but a servant girl who didn’t even have a scrap of new clothing to her name. and yet, those calloused hands of his found their way to your chin ever so gently, lifting your eyes to meet his ones. your knees felt weak, and your face warm— like the sunlight that filtered through the attic window, and like the look in his eyes as he gazed upon you. “it’s you,” he said with a whisper, a wide smile blooming across his face. because there was no way it wasn't you; not when he had been dreaming of those eyes of yours since the night you met. “my princess…”

SIM JAEYUN as FLYNN RIDER ( TANGLED ) !

there was once a time where you wanted nothing more than to know what it felt like to feel the grass beneath your feet, and to lie in meadows of dandelions under the sun, like they always talked about in the books you piled up in your little room. to know what it was like to be free. and he was the one who gave you that. the one who showed you the world. but being with him was dangerous, for the both of you, and you would rather stay locked up in the tower forever than let him be hurt. now, the only thing you wanted, was for him to be safe. even if that meant giving up the freedom you would once trade anything for.

you stared at the painting on your ceilings—the painting of the lanterns that he took you to see, just as he promised. the lanterns that bore witness to your first kiss on a boat in the middle of the lake… right before your mother found you, and dragged you back to the tower, promising pain on the man you loved–yes, loved—if you didn’t do as she said. you sighed as you raised a hand over your eyes. and it was then that you heard a knocking from the inside of the walls. someone was here. and it wasn’t your mother. you moved faster than you ever did before you learnt how to braid your ropes of hair, and you slotted yourself between one of the bookshelves to hide, frypan in hand, at the ready.

this scene felt all too familiar. you found yourself remembering the charming grin as you stood with a frypan in hand, eyeing the man who broke into your home and changed everything. but now was not the time for such thoughts. as soon as you heard the intruder enter, your charged with your pan held over your head with violent intent—only to have it fall from your hand when a hand you knew all too well wrapped around your wrists, securing them together in its singular grip, before pushing you up against the nearby wall. jake watched your lips fall apart in a silent gasp, eyes lighting up in recognition at his face. his name left your lips in a quiet sigh, and his heart leapt at the sound, at the sight of your pretty face under the sensual lighting of the setting sun. he wasted no time in ravaging your mouth with hungry kisses, his hard body pressed against yours as he attempted to feel every part of you against him, so he could feel you like he wanted to since the day you were taken from him. “i missed you so fucking much,” he whispered. you scolded him, telling him he shouldn’t be here… but— “i don’t care. i’m here to take my girl back.”

PARK SUNGHOON as PRINCE ADAM ( BEAUTY AND THE BEAST ) !

when you first found yourself at the beast’s—no, sunghoon’s, castle—demanding that he let your father go, you would admit that you almost turned and ran for the hills at the sight of his beastly form. he was the image of the monsters that you read about in all those books you buried your nose in all day, the ones that you lost yourself to fantasy with. but the longer you remained in his care, the more you realised just how much lay beneath the surface of a supposed beast. the way he had so awkwardly tried to pull your chair out for your on the first night you had dinner together, the way he was so hesitant to grasp your hands when you danced, as if too scared he might shatter it; the way he so willingly threw himself before an arrow just to make sure it didn’t touch you…

you called his name with falling tears, watching as he lay limp on the ground before you. his small huffs of annoyance were never so missed as they were now, instead replaced by silence as you continued to shake his lying form, his blood staining your dress. you never even got to say thank you, to tell him you didn’t mean it when you said he was an insufferable and intolerable beast—and now, you would never have the chance again… or so you thought. as you rested your head against his unmoving chest, wallowing in the grief that washed over you like a tidal wave, you failed to notice as the beast you came to knew started to shift into a man, his bare chest healed of any wounds because of the love that you shed in your precious tears. it wasn’t until a human hand cradled your cheek and lifted your face did you notice what had happened, and god was he beautiful—just as he was on the inside.

his lips were raised into a soft smile, and you heart leapt at the sight of small dimples poking his cheeks, and a pair of fangs that looked like a miniature version of the ones he had when he was a beast. “why are you crying?” he asked, his lips pressing a sweet kiss onto your forehead. “did you really think you would get rid of me that easily?” he cupped your face into his warm, large hands, his eyes bearing into yours. “silly girl… i’m too in love with you to leave.”

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lilylovestowrite · 2 months

Note

May I request Dan Heng taking care of drunk reader?

HE'S NOT MUCH OF A DRINKER, BUT HE'S A DREAM GIRL ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ Dan Heng x GN! Reader

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ None

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ Dan Heng picks you up from the bar, and it seems like you’re completely hammered.

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 1.4K

A/N ୨♡୧ Thank you so much for submitting the very first ask! I won’t lie, I got a bit carried away so it’s a bit longer than most drabbles. I love my silly little dragon man.

Divider by @/cafekitsune

A sigh echoes across the halls of the Astral Express. The stars gleam and the sky is streaked with hues of purple and the serene teal of Dan Heng’s eyes, currently focused on the door to the little bar in the Astral Express. He opens the doors, and the grandiose chandelier above his head nearly blinds him. But what nearly takes his breath away is you, slumped on the onyx marble island with a cocktail in hand. No matter how often he enters a room and lays eyes on you, each and every time, his brain and eyes race to compute your beauty. However, even as your partner, the dark haired man keeps his affections closer to his chest.

“Dan Heng, what are you doing here?” You slur, eyes squinting at the silhouette approaching you. You can tell it’s him, because the aroma of autumn petrichor and old books almost overpowers the stench of alcohol. “Were you reading?”

“I’m here because March texted me to pick you up,” he smiles softly and nods in the pink haired girl’s direction, “let’s go to my room, angel.” To this nickname, you swoon, and March giggles softly, slinging a drunk Trailblazer over her shoulder and taking them to their room.

“Night, Dan Heng!” She chimes, eyes alight with amusement. Even in your state, barely able to walk, you know that this whole set up was most likely by her design. You can’t fault her for it though - March, ever the romantic, is the very reason you and Dan Heng are together now.

“Night, March.” He replies back, and he turns all of his attention towards your slumped figure. “Now, what to do with you.” His mutters are soft, and even in private, there is a rather comforting strain of sterness in his tone. “I’m going to help you up, can you walk?”

“Mm, no.” You reply, and find his perplexed expression absolutely adorable. His nose scrunches up and you can practically see the cogs running in his head, trying to devise a plan to get you to his room. You decide to be gracious and give him the solution: “Carry me?”

“Carry you?” Dan Heng asks, surprise leaking into his voice. He then falters and coughs behind his palm in an attempt to regain his composure, “Carry you. I can do that. Come on.” He gently pries your hands off the cocktail glass and lifts you up in a bridal carry. His footsteps echo in the halls, the starlight illuminating his soft expression.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your reading time,” you whisper, suddenly self-conscious that you’ve made your boyfriend take the brunt of your own actions, “I didn’t think the cocktails were so strong.”

“It happens, don’t worry.” He replies, “I wasn’t reading anything interesting anyway. Just boring things about the stars.” And you think you’re about to enter his room, the faint glow of his night lamp leaking through the doorway, but he makes a turn and heads towards the observatory..

“Are we sleeping somewhere else?” You ask, shifting slightly. You trust that Dan Heng won’t drop you, even if you thrash around like a worm.

“The observatory has a nicer bathroom nearby in case you feel nauseous. And besides…” He hesitates, dark lashes fanning over the teal irises that stare down on you. “...I’ve wanted to sleep under the stars with you for a while now. What do you think?”

You pause, both flustered, taken aback, and enraptured by him. It seems that no matter what he does, or what he asks for, you can never say no to him. Nor do you want to. The urge to spoil him, to see that serene little smile on his face when he lets his guard down, is your ultimate goal. So naturally, your response is: “Sure, let’s do that.”

Dan Heng is rather good at keeping a poker face, but around you, (either because he has no use for his reservations or because you have gotten so good at reading him), not one emotion goes unnoticed. So even if he looks away, you notice in the reflection of the windows sealing off the extra rooms, that a light pink hue kisses his cheeks, accompanied by a toothy, boyish grin.

He gently opens the door to the conservatory with his hip, setting you down in a chair and cracking open a bottle of water. “Here, drink this. I’m just gonna open up the sofa bed.” And as he does so, you take a look around the remarkable room. Made of glass, you can see the stars as the express glides across the cosmos. The interior is rather simple: a minifridge in the corner, accompanied by a few house plants; a black chaise lounge that you currently occupy, and a black sofa bed that Dan Heng places pillows on. The entire view is celestial, picturesque, but the most breathtaking view is your lover. Even in simple clothing, the black turtleneck he wears, paired with his white pants, he always looks as if he has stepped out of an ink wash painting. Untouchable, yet so gorgeous.

And, all yours.

It seems that you are too drunk to conceal your adoration, because Dan Heng comes towards you, crossing his arms. “What are you looking at?” He asks, both teasingly and with slight seriousness. The cadence of his voice, normally monotonous, rises and falls as his eyes scan your expression.

“You!” You giggle, unashamedly. Dan Heng blushes softly, realising that his plan has backfired. Instead, he guides you to the bed, a hand hovering above your waist.

“You really have no shame, do you?”

“Especially not when I’m drunk!” You babble, letting him prop the pillows up so you aren’t fully laying down. You make yourself at home, shimmying into the covers next to him.

“I can see that, dear.” He replies.

Dear?

You jerk your head towards him with such speed, you nearly go green.

“Wh-what?” He asks, blinking at you.

“You never call me pet names.” You blurt out, “It just caught me off guard.” Dan Heng has never been one for sappy affections, especially because he can’t take your reactions. He tells you it’s because your name is the most beautiful thing to call you by, and it’s true, but if he catches you with that lovesick stare, he isn’t sure his heart can handle it.

“Well, you’re so far gone, I don’t think you’ll remember this anyway.” He replies cooly, but his ears are completely red. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Don’t change the subject! Call me that again!” You plead, pouting and dramatically draping yourself over his lap. “C’mon please?”

“N-no, I think pet names are more effective in moderation.” Dan Heng replies, but the heat consumes his face so much, he pushes his dark hair out of his face and fans himself slightly.

“Aww, bummer.” You lay back, and he locks his fingers with yours, using your intertwined hand to reach up to the sky, in all its astral grace and heavenly beauty. He guides your clasped hand to a planet above:

“That’s Venus, look!” His voice, now slightly sleepy, rumbles a few octaves deeper, and the calming vibrations cause waves of sleep to wash over you. “And over there, that pink planet? That’s actually a moon for another planet. Miranda.”

“Really?” You look towards him, and his face glows with childish wonder. His guard is completely lowered around you. It’s not that he becomes more like a kid around you, but he feels comfortable being vulnerable and letting his excitement show. You watch him with the same wonder he gazes at the stars with, but your eyes struggle to stay open.

“Mhmm! I think there’s going to be a meteor shower tonight. Do you want to watch it together?” He asks, a tiny smile spreads onto his face, but when he turns around, his expression softens even more. “You look tired, get some sleep, my love.”

“Okay but…” You mumble, pulling the floral duvet up to your chin, “...Wake me up when it begins.”

You don’t hear his reply as you finally let your fatigue catch up with you, slumber slowly letting you drown, but just as you fully surrender, you feel a pair of lips brush against your forehead.

#honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail #dan heng #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fluff #hsr x reader #hsr dan heng #hsr dan heng x reader #hsr x you

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 months

Text

Guardian of the Library | Yandere Raiden Tameemon

Yandere Pantheon College AU (5/7) | Master List

The thing about being the librarian at The Pantheon College meant you had the beautifully neutral position as a keeper of the college’s extensive library. So while you spent your working days reading what you liked while occasionally checking books and movies out to students, things were peaceful. Now on the off chance the different groups of students decide that the library was the place to fight you had the luxury of calling security and apparently, the mere mention of the job had people running. So you were pleased to rely on this mysterious person to scare the naughty kids away. That is until he came to you.

The beast of a man easily collided and broke the wall of the raised entryway, tiredly yawning as he scanned the library. His brown eyes slowly take in your slice of heaven until landing on you. From there it was history.

You were nose-deep in a fantasy novel, the world you were reading about was on the cusp of war the romance finally reaching its peak. It was miraculous that you noticed him when you did. Standing so monstrously tall he somehow blocked out the light from the decadent chandelier that adorned the ceiling above your desk.

“Can I help you sir?”

“So you like books huh?”

The smile on his face was far too wide and the muscles squeezing at the restraints of his white t-shirt told you this wasn’t going to be a question about books. With a sigh, you tucked your book away and scooted closer to your desk.

“I do, now what was it you needed sir?”

“Your number if you don’t mind!”

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Rolling your eyes you prepare to reach for the line-connected phone, setting your hand beside it in a silent threat.

“Look kid I’m far too old for you and if you think harassing the staff is going to get you a date then you’d be sorely mistaken.” Watching his expression drop and his mouth open up, you held your finger up. “If you aren’t here to check out a book, I’ll have to call security on you sir.”

His smile returned again and he leaned on the desk, completely engulfing you in his shadow.

“So feisty! That is my favorite type!”

“I mean it kid I’m going to call!”

He laughed again and you had had enough, picking up the phone you dialed the number. The ring was audibly loud, making you hope that that would have this student running. But it didn’t. He just stood there smiling.

Then there was ringing again.

But if wasn’t from your phone.

And it wasn’t the default ringing from before.

Instead, it was some J-Pop tune that just kept going on

Until the giant man pulled out his phone declining the call.

“Well guess I’ve got one of your numbers now. So when’s your lunch?”

Great.

Just great.

“I don’t leave for lunch. I eat here. So you’re better off finding someone—”

“Awesome I’ll just come back here for my lunches then!”

You wanted to groan loudly more than ever but there were usuals already watching through the shelves. Relenting you figured it’ll be less noisy to let the giant security guard come in and do as he pleased.

Plus having the guard dog of the school hanging around might not be so bad.

______________________________________________________________

“Oi, you work here right?”

You’d already been floating around this group for a while now. They weren’t regulars and they came in already looking in one section of the library.

Tameemon wasn’t here On account that there was some more violent activity on campus, he couldn’t spend all his time pestering you. He whined about it the first time someone called you since he wasn’t picking up.

Even if you could call him, you didn’t want to be dependent on that guy.

“Tell this rag that book is mine, I had it first!”

His cronies hovering around all nodded, occasionally threatening the quivering kid clutching a book in the fetal position. One of your regulars. Immediately you recognized the book he was carrying—one of his latest finds. There was no shot these rowdy hooligans had this book first.

“On the account that I’ve seen him start this book earlier today. I’m quite certain he had this book first.”

“Hah!?”

“Don’t you see all of us! We’re witnesses!”

“Biased witnesses that haven’t stepped foot in this library before today. Now please if you can’t quietly resolve this I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The whole group was getting angry, you figured this might cause problems later. Which is why it surprised you when the main aggressor grabbed you by your collar, nearly lifting you off the ground.

“You wanna say that again to me, booknerd!?”

THWACK!

It’d been a while since you punched someone, you briefly shook your hand at the burning in your knuckles. You’d have to put ice on that later. Holding your forearms up you slipped off your shoes to finally put some of your training to use.

“Y-you hit me!?”

“Yes, and I’ll do it again if you bother me or the peace of this library.”

The whole group looked irate, some tensing up and getting ready to run. It would be six to one. Hardly a fair fight but one you didn’t mind. If it was for your library you’d be willing to take however many you needed to.

“You’re gonna pay for this–”

Lunging at you, you were ready to take him down or at least do your best to try. That is until a dark shadow overtook you and with a sigh you let your guard down. The large hands took you by your waist, gently putting you to the side before Tameemon stood in front.

“I can finally go all out on you little rats!”

“W–w-wait no!”

“H-hold on man t-they swung on his first!”

“Y-yeah! It’s not our fault!”

Tameemon cracked his knuckles and tilted his head in a mock stretch.

“Then all the more reason to join the fight.”

Tameemon pulled some salt from his pocket throwing it up in the air, and then a sadistic smile spread across his face.

Escorting the now uncurled student away from the scene, the screams and hollering of the ones dumb enough to mess around your library bounced off its walls. Sending the students still in the library out you made a call to the janitor, telling him to swing by after the campus classes ended.

Looking at the aftermath trumped any gorey horror book you could enjoy. The remains of the students were beyond battered, some of their limbs looked as though they had imploded. Gooey oozing red chunks scattered around with bits of bone, their faces resembling a cartoonish recreation of eating something sour.

“So did I do good?”

NaturallyTameemon was covered in blood, his shirt in tatters, and his fists drenched in blood. The blood that was on the wall, wasn’t something to be proud of and neither does the blood drenching the carpet beneath his feet. But the bookshelf was clean…. meaning the books were fine.

“If you’re talking about the books then…yes, you did a good job..”

“Enough for a kiss?”

“Mmmm.”

“Plleeeaaaassseee!”

“I don’t know how you are going to explain the bodies to the other side.”

“It’s fine the janitor’s cool! Cool enough to let us make out in their closet.”

“Maybe if you didn’t scar my regular.”

“What?! Come on I’m sure he didn’t see anything. C’mon, baby!”

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere record of ragnarok #yandere ror x reader #yandere record of ragnarok x reader #yandere shuumatsu no valkyrie #yandere ror raiden tameemon #yandere tameemon #yandere tameemon x reader #yandere snv

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 year

Text

rescue mission ~ klaus hargreeves;umbrella academy

word count: 3646

request?: yes!

@werewolfbanshee-love “Awesome, so since I started today with the show can I ask for Y/N to be Klaus’s support and saves him from Cha-Cha and Hazel just being a badass”

description: in which the powerless human takes down two time commission agents on her own

pairing: klaus hargreeves x female!reader

warnings: swearing, violence, i use the name “vanya” in this one just because it takes place in season one

masterlist (one, two, three)

A family full of superheroes, and those fuckers had no idea that one of their brothers was missing. Too wrapped up in their own bullshit to care about anything else. All those superheroes, and it took a goddamn regular human to track down and save a missing Klaus.

I had been in Klaus’ room, waiting for him to come back, when I heard gunshots downstairs. I quickly dropped to the floor and got under his bed for protection. I was not super human, so there was absolutely zero way I was getting involved with whatever was happening. I hoped Klaus also wasn’t getting involved. I listened to the sound of footsteps running past the room, things crashing downstairs, and more gunshots. My breathing became heavier with panic with every passing sound.

I waited a few seconds after the noises went quiet, waiting for any signs of Klaus, or anyone for that matter, coming to check on me. When nothing happened, I hesitantly crawled out from under the bed. I heard slamming doors outside and looked out just in time to see two figures getting into a black car and drive away from the Hargreeves residence. Neither figure looked like any of the Hargreeves siblings, so I took this to mean that the danger had left.

I slowly opened Klaus’ bedroom door and started down the hallway. There was bullet holes in the walls and pictures knocked down. The bathroom door was still open, so I peaked inside but found it empty. There were signs that Klaus had been in there, but none as to where he had gone after his bath.

I could hear voices as I descended the stairs. The giant chandelier from the foyer was now laying shattered in the middle of the floor. An uneasy feeling started to grow in my stomach.

I found Diego, Allison, and Vanya in the living room.

“Hey,” I said, breaking up their conversation. “Where’s Klaus?”

“Who cares?” Diego retorted.

“Uncalled for, Diego,” Allison muttered. “(Y/N), are you okay?”

“Fine,” I said, glaring at Diego before turning to walk away. It was clear I was getting no help from them.

I searched the entire Hargreeves estate to no avail. I knew there was no way Klaus would leave without telling me. He could be a space case sometimes, but he usually remembered to tell me things. Also, he was in the bath. How would he just get out of there and leave during all that commotion without coming to put clothes on? I’d know if he left, I was sure of it.

A thought popped into my head then: the car I had seen drive away. I rushed to Reginald’s office, the one place in the whole house I knew would have a pen and paper. I quickly wrote down the details of the car before I could forget, including the license plate number.

There has to be a way I can find this car, I thought.

But how?

Driving around town was a no go. It was too big of a town, too many places they could’ve gone or still be going to. It would take me hours, even days. Klaus might not have that long.

There was one option I could try.

I ran back down over the stairs just in time to catch Diego leaving. “Wait! Diego, wait, I need a favor.”

He paused at the door and turned to face me. “What’s in it for me?”

I rolled my eyes. “What, are you 12?”

“No, just a man who knows an opportunity when he sees it.”

“Do me this favor or I get Luther to super strength kick you in the nuts.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

He looked at me, as if trying to decide whether to call my bluff or not. After a few moments, he signed and said, “What do you want?”

“I need you to call your cop girlfriend.”

“Patch? Why?”

I couldn’t tell him my suspicions about Klaus’ disappearance. He’d never believe me. I had only properly met Klaus’ siblings a few days earlier, but I could already tell they thought very lowly of him. They would just brush off his sudden disappearance as him going off on a bender and not worry about it.

“I just need her help,” I responded instead. “Please Diego.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Patch’s number. I thanked him profusely as I took his phone. It rang for a short while before Patch answered, “Diego, what do you w - ”

“Patch!” I cut her off. “Detective Patch, this is actually (Y/N), Diego’s brother’s girlfriend. I asked him to call you for me.”

“Oh, I remember you. You’re Klaus’ girlfriend. A little too stable for a guy like him.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Listen, I need a favor. I know this is a long shot because you don’t know me, but I needed a plate run on a car to try to find it. I assume cops can do that. Maybe I’m wrong, but it’s important. I - ” I looked over at Diego, who was looking down at his knives and clearly pretending he wasn’t listening. I lowered my voice to say, “I think something happened to Klaus.”

“If it’s something so serious you’re asking for police involvement, you may just want to file a report with the police.”

“No offence, but I don’t completely trust the cops to find him in time. I don’t even trust Klaus’ siblings and they have powers. Look, all I’m asking is any info you can find on this car, that’s it. Please Patch.”

There was a moment of silence. I expected her to say no. It was a big ask for her to do this for someone she didn’t even know. As far as I could tell, she didn’t even like Diego all that much right now. But I needed her to say yes. If she didn’t, I would already be at a severe disadvantage in finding Klaus before it was too late.

“Okay,” she said, finally. “Give me the information.”

I thanked her and gave her the details I had on the car. I also gave her my phone number so she’d call me and not Diego. I thanked Diego again as I gave him his phone back and went back to Klaus’ room to wait. There wasn’t much I could do until Patch got back to me about the car. If she couldn’t find any details about the car, I’d definitely be shit out of luck. I’d never find Klaus.

I paced up and down Klaus’ room. I kept looking out the window, as if the car would return and bring Klaus back safely. I could hear his siblings moving around the house, but not once coming to see where Klaus was. I knew Diego didn’t give a shit, but I thought maybe Allison or Vanya cared enough about their brother to be concerned when I said he was missing. Wishful thinking, I guess.

When my phone rang, I practically jumped out of my skin. I answered without checking the caller ID. “Hello?”

“I got your car,” came Patch’s voice. “And a location.”

Roughly 20 minutes later, I was parked outside of a motel. The car wasn’t in the parking lot, but Patch swore this was the last known location. It was dark and my body was starting to realize it hadn’t slept in well over 12 hours. But I pushed through it. I needed to find Klaus. I needed him to be alive and safe.

The car finally pulled into the lot nearly an hour later. All sleep immediately left my body as I sat up and watched intently. The car parked and a man and woman got out. They didn’t go around to the back of the car to take a third person out, so I could only assume that Klaus was already inside their room. I got out of my car, grabbing the crowbar I had taken as a weapon before starting to follow Klaus’ captors at a safe distance. They turned a corner and I paused to let them get far enough away to keep myself safe. When I peaked around the corner, they had gone into one of the rooms.

I silently crept down the block of rooms. There was only one room with the lights on, so it was easy to find where the assailants were. I peaked through the thin white curtains to see a figure tied to a chair between the two beds.

Klaus.

I could see his two captors stood facing him, side on to where I was but not able to see me. I couldn’t make out much as the curtains still blocked a lot of my vision.

I hadn’t thought this far ahead. What was the next step here? How did I get them out of the room long enough for me to save Klaus? Or how did I knock them out long enough?

They wouldn’t just answer the door if I knocked, would they?

I took the chance and knocked at the door. “Housekeeping!”

There was silence. I knew it was a long shot, but I had no other plan, and I wasn’t sure how much time I had.

I tried again, knocking three times and repeating, “Housekeeping!”

My heart jumped when I heard the doorknob turn and the door suddenly opened. A tall man with brown hair and a beard looked down at me. Realizing that I wasn’t housekeeping, he looked at me in confusion.

I smiled. “Hello.”

And then I swung my crowbar.

It connected with the side of his head, knocking him to the door. I was surprised by how little effort it took to take him down. Now, where’s the other one?

My question was quickly answered by the sound of gunshots. I dove behind the nearest bed as the woman stepped out of the bathroom, now wearing a mask and shooting at me as I fell to the ground. I should’ve known they’d have guns. I heard the gunshots when I was at the Hargreeves’ place. And yet I came with a crowbar in hand, something that I needed to be very close to the attackers in order to use.

Stupid!

I looked over to where the man was laying unconscious. His white button up shirt was tucked into his pants, revealing his own holster with the gun. I knew it was a bad idea, but I needed to get that gun. At least to try and defend myself from this lady attacker.

I inched forward slowly. She had stopped shooting at me, so I knew she was just waiting for me to come out from my hiding spot. I had a short period of time to try and grab the gun and dive back to where I was hiding before her bullets finally made connections with my body. I had to grab something to cover me, or at least that would hopefully cover me, long enough for me to get the gun.

I looked up to see the a large briefcase on the table behind me. It was a long shot, I’m pretty sure bullets can go through briefcases, but it was all that I had. I turned so my feet were facing towards the table and kicked it. The briefcase wobbled slightly, but didn’t move.

“Hey!” called the female attacker. “What are you doing?!”

I kicked the table again and the briefcase fell over, the handle facing outwards. I reached up and grabbed it, pulling it down just in time for another bullet to whiz past my hand.

“You’re not a very good shot,” I taunted.

I held the briefcase in front of my body as I scurried out from behind the bed towards the unconscious man. I heard more gunshots and, surprisingly, they ricocheted off the briefcase.

This thing must be maid of titanium or something. It can’t be a normal briefcase.

I fumbled with the latch on his holster as another shot ran out, bouncing off the briefcase again. My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding with adrenaline. I needed to get this thing off. I needed this to be a fair fight. When the latch finally popped free, I breathed a sigh of relief before taking the gun and diving back behind the bed, taking the briefcase with me. I had a feeling it was something important, and maybe I could exchange it for Klaus.

“Listen!” I called. “I’ve never dealt with all this shooting and kidnapping shit before. I’m not part of the Umbrella Academy, I don’t have powers, I’m just a normal person. I came here because I think you took my boyfriend and I want him back. Whatever you have against the Umbrella Academy I can assure you has nothing to do with Klaus. If you’d just give him up to me, I’ll give you back your briefcase and we’ll leave. I promise you we won’t interfere with whatever you have going on. Truthfully, I don’t even really like Klaus’ siblings right now, so if you want to go after them I won’t be standing in your way.”

There was silence. I was starting to get sick of this type of silence. Either agree or disagree with what I was saying. It wasn’t that deep to have to think about it for this long about my proposition.

Another gunshot rang out, so I took that as a no.

My hands were still shaking as I popped up from behind the bed and started blindly shooting. I had never handled a gun before. They were loud and extremely scary. I knew there was very little chance I would actually hit her, but maybe if I was lucky I’d get a good shot in and I could just take Klaus and run.

It didn’t take long for me to use up all of my bullets. I looked up to see that she was nowhere to be seen. I started to rise to my feet, hoping I had hit her and she was laying on the ground. But, of course, no such luck. The moment I stood, she came out of the bathroom again, gun lifted and aimed at me. My quick instincts were suddenly gone as I stared down the barrel of the gun that would undoubtably kill me. I wondered if Klaus’ siblings would find him before he joined me in my fate. I wondered if Diego would feel guilty for not listening to me when I asked him about Klaus being missing. If any of them would even feel somewhat remorseful for not saving me or Klaus in time.

Instead of another shot ringing out, though, the gun just clicked. Both of us looked at each other - well, I looked at her, her mask looked at me - dumbfounded. She tried again and got the same results. A laughed bubbled in my throat and escaped my lips before I could stop it.

Her gun had ran out of bullets, too.

She dropped the gun and lunged over the two beds towards me. She took my off guard long enough to knock me to the ground. I tried to swing at her, but her mask was just as hard as the briefcase was. I howled in pain as my fist collided with the mask for the first time, definitely shattering the bones in my hand. She seemed delighted by the fact that I was caught off guard again and punched me in the face. Pain exploded from my nose causing tears to well up into my eyes.

My crowbar was laying just inches away from me, next to the briefcase. Either one of those things would definitely work in this situation, but I had to hit her just right on the back of her head. It was obvious hitting the mask would only protect her. And I had to do it while she least expected it. If she knew what my plan was, she’d stop me in an instant and probably take me out with her own bare hands.

I stretched an arm out as she hit me again. The pain was almost unbearable. I’d have to get my nose and my hand looked at by a doctor I was sure, but for now I had to focus on surviving this attack and saving Klaus. I felt my fingers brush against one of the two potential weapons and closed them around it. I wasn’t sure which one I had grabbed, but it didn’t matter to me now. I grit my teeth against the pain and hissed out, “You should’ve taken my deal.”

I swung and the briefcase collided with the back of her head. She fell off of me, limp on the ground. I looked down at her to see blood forming on the back of her head. Knowing she was down for the count, I quickly stood and looked for where they could’ve hidden Klaus. It didn’t take long, though, as the silence finally fell over the room made it easier to hear the sound of muffled yelling coming from the closet. When I threw the doors open, I found Klaus, wrapped only in a towel and tied to the chair. His face was just as blood as mine was.

I nearly sobbed as I reached to take the tape off of his mouth.

“You found me,” he breathed.

“I wasn’t giving up until I did,” I said. “Come on, let’s get you out of here before they wake up.”

I undid his bindings and helped him to his feet. We started out of the room, but I paused to take my crowbar and the briefcase. I figured I could use some leverage if these assholes tried to come after us again.

We scurried across the parking lot to my car. My hand and nose were throbbing. I cradled my hand on my lap and drove with the other towards my house. I felt it was a better option than going back to the Hargreeves’ place. I didn’t want his siblings to see both of us all beat up and realize I had been right about Klaus’ disappearance. Not yet, anyways. I’d save the gloating for later.

When we got back to my place, I ran the shower for Klaus so he could clean himself up. I wrapped my hand in gauze from my first aid kit and held an icepack to my nose until the swelling went down. I then cleaned the blood from my face, careful not to accidentally bump my nose. I’d need to seek medical attention, but that was for a later time.

Klaus had clothes at my place, so I laid them out on my bed for him. Poor thing had been in just a towel for who knows how long.

When he came into my room, he paused at the door to look over me. He winced as he looked at my wrapped up hand. “Did they hurt you bad?”

“Well, this was me actually,” I said. “Those fucking masks were harder than I expected them to be. But she did break my nose. I’ll go see a doctor tomorrow. Did they hurt you bad?”

“No broken bones.” He took the clothes from my bed and changed into them. “I can’t believe you risked your life for me like that.”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I? They took you and they were hurting you.”

“I have superhuman siblings, though.”

I shook my head. “Too wrapped up in themselves to even listen to me. There was no other choice than for me to come find you myself.”

Klaus climbed into bed next to me. I rolled onto my side to face him, and he did the same, propping himself up on his elbow as he did so.

“I can’t believe you knocked both of them out on your own,” he said. “I heard all that gunfire and thought for sure you were dead.”

“Well, the guy wasn’t too hard to take down. He answered the door with no mask on, so I just hit him with the crowbar I brought with me. The woman put up more of a fight. I was lucky she was dumb enough to empty her gun while trying to shoot me or else I likely would’ve been a goner.”

He looked over me again. There was a look in his eyes I couldn’t quite place. It was like a combination of things. Love was the one thing I was sure I was seeing.

“I can’t believe you came for me,” he said again.

I smiled and leaned closer to him. “I love you, Klaus. I’d do anything to make sure you were safe. That includes risking my life to go after two kidnappers with guns and titanium masks on my own to save you from them.”

Klaus smiled. Tears were welling up in his eyes. He pulled me the rest of the way forward, closing the gap between us to kiss me. I wrapped my arms around him, leaning forward into the kiss so the two of us were laying down. I winced briefly as my nose brushed against his, sending a slight pain through my face.

“Sorry,” Klaus said, his voice soft. “You need to get that fixed. I can’t just not kiss you.”

I giggled. “Tomorrow, I promise. We need to rest now, though. We both had quite the night.”

As if finally realizing how tired he was, Klaus yawned and nodded. I settled into the bed next to him, cuddling into his chest. I could hear his heart beating as he drifted off to sleep. I used it as a reminder that he was there, that I had saved him, as my adrenaline finally wore off and I finally fell asleep.

#klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves imagine #klaus hargreeves x reader #Robert Sheehan #robert sheehan imagine #robert sheehan x reader #The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy imagine #tua #netflix #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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scribble-dribble-writes · 1 year

Text

Amethyst and diamonds

---

Pairing: Miguel o'hara x female reader

Word count: 2600

Warnings: none

Content: dancing beneath chandeliers, sparkling gowns and Miguel in a tuxedo 😌

---

You were running late, still in your apartment when the gala was supposed to start in an hour. The worst thing about getting to events when you wore a shimmering mermaid gown was that you couldn’t sling your way across the city. You brushed out your curls, you cannot have the wind mess it up, not after all that time you spent taming your hair and getting your makeup right. You groaned internally, you had to take a taxi.

Humiliating, but most spider people were going to be there and watching all of them take a transport of some kind was the eventful start to this gala.

It was a once a year event, thrown in the honor of everyone who was a part of spider society to relax after their continuous work days on end, the multiverse came to a standstill. You flip over your wrist to check the time again and realized you were not doing well in that regard. Your time management skills were always a little questionable.

You shoved your things into a bag and ran around the house making sure you had everything and as you sat down to wear your heels, the doorbell rang.

You wanted to scream, you got up and ran down the hall to see who it was. Pulling open the door, you frightened yourself with how close it was to coming off it’s hinges. But the large silhouette of a man standing in your doorway drew your attention.

“Miguel?”, you asked curiosly, not sure why he was here but it meant you could go back to resuming your work as you let him in, he knew his way around your place.

He considered you as a very close friend in league with Ben Riley, Peter B Parker and Jess Drew. You were a part of his inner circle but had told you off that one time when you called him your best friend.

"I can't be your best friend.", he sulked.

Weird that you had to remember it now, especially with how the crush you had him had gotten worse.

The further he got deemed as a loyal friend in your life, it meant he was getting pushed away into the deep end of the friend zone. He had been nervous about coming here, his foot tapped away incessantly as he waited for you to open the door. But when you did, it had knocked the wind out of his lungs. You looked radiant, in your shimmering gown, that he had forgotten what he came here to say.

He admired your beauty and intelligence even after on the days you came back from a mission covered in sweat and grime. And he knew if you cleaned yourself up, you would be way out of his league. Seeing you now only proved him right.

He let himself in, following behind you before looking at the utter disaster that surrounded him. He stood in the hallway as he watched you sit down to wear your heels and realized that he had caught you at a bad time.

“Why aren’t you dressed?”, your question brought him back to reality.

“Are we meant to go somewhere?”, He asked with a looming sense that he had forgotten about something.

“The gala? The one you throw every year to honour us all?”, you said it in a manner to jog his memory and watched as realization dawned on his face.

“Ah, mierda.”, he shuffled his feet.

How had he forgotten?

This was your first gala and he wanted to attend it, although he skipped going to the previous ones. He felt everyone might have a better time if he wasn’t there sulking in the corner.

But looked like he would have to give the gala this year a miss too.

“Why don’t you ever attend your own events?”, you asked, the heel strap was giving you a hard time, which he had noticed.

Dropping the box he held in his hand on the counter top, he approached you and crouched low to take the strap from your hand. You sat back into the seat to relish the moment of relief.

This was common when he was around, he infiltrated your space when he wanted to, he had confided that by being present in the moment, or holding onto something, it grounded him and by doing so he knew he wasn’t stuck in a dream or a nightmare.

So having known that it rooted him to reality, you did your part as well. Small hugs when you greeted him, holding his hand when no one was watching, patting his back when he was zoned out watching his monitors, his eyes would soften whenever he saw that it was you.

As he finished strapping you heels, you placed your hand on his shoulder as a gesture to thank him.

“Would you really relax if I was at a party?”, he raised his brows creasing his forehead.

Always worrying, you thought

“I would, actually.”, you smiled easing the lines over his brows and he leaned in closer, like a stray cat that yearned for a home.

“Realmente?”, he asked softly, the words escaping his lips like a purr, to which you nodded your head.

“You’ve got that je ne sais quoi.”, you tell him and see his eyes shimmer as looked at you as though you were fireworks lighting up his sky.

"it makes me feel at ease.", you pushed away a stray strands of his hair.

But your watch beeped and it jolted the both of you, at the proximity with which you had been and at the time that you had lost.

“Oh shoot.”, you moved away from him towards the vanity set, not yet set on the accessories for the outfit.

You pulled out your jewelry box to fish for your earring sets. Taking two pairs, you turned to him for his opinion. His eyes had been focused on you, watching your every move as though he was memorizing you.

“The gold rings or purple crystals?”, you asked placing one of each kind on either side of your face, tilting your head for him to get a better view.

His placid expression broke away as he smiled, one that he was fighting so hard to suppress but that was how it was around you. Around you, he felt alive, like his old self.

“The purple ones.”, he gestured and it made his heart jump when you took his word. He heard you mumble about not having the right necklace to go with and only then did he remember why he came here in the first place.

He reached for the box that he had brought.

“I have something you might like.”, you heard him say and when you turned to see him, you gasped. He held open a necklace set made of purple amethyst and diamonds with intricate work done on it, you were sure it was from a different timeline.

“I had to join Hobie to eliminate an anomaly in a universe set in the regency era.”, he continued to explain but you were mesmerized by the workmanship, you have never seen anything like it before.

“There as I passed by the store, this caught my eye and I could only think of you.”, he said sweetly, his cheeks were flush with colour as his eyes now reflected the purple hue.

“Wouldn’t that break the timeline?”, you asked touching your lips.

“No.”, he shook his head fighting another smile.

“I bought it. So it’s much like an heirloom now.”, he explained as he reached to take the necklace out of the box.

“You bought it? That must have cost you – he clicked his tongue cutting you off.

“Money is nothing but an object with some value assigned to it.”, he held it up to you.

“May I?”, he asked and you held up your hair so he could fix the clasp behind you.

Once he was done, he gently turned you towards the mirror. A proud smile on his face as he watched the wonder in your eyes when you traced a finger over the crystal.

“Now, when it’s on you,”, he held you steady, his mind glitching with the smell of your perfume that he wanted to lose himself in the crevice of your neck and in the dark tresses of your hair.

“It’s priceless.”, he whispered, his breath hot against your skin that sent a shiver down your spine, you wanted to pull him close and kiss him blind.

This sudden urge caught you off guard, you craved his touch that it short-circuited your senses. As you turned to protest against wearing it, your eyes caught sight of the smooth way his cheekbone tapered making his face shine like he was a figment of your imagination. You wanted to caress his cheek, to lose your track of time as you stared into his sparkling eyes.

“You can’t be serious, I can’t wear – he stopped you again, cutting you off mid sentence to kiss your cheek. The feeling of his soft lips on your skin, you froze.

“I want you to.”, he spoke before he moved away.

You were going to be royally late but it wasn’t a concern anymore. You wanted to skip on the gala now, to turn and kiss him, to see if this thing that sparked between you two had a chance of surviving.

But he looked at his watch and pouted. “Ah, you’re going to late because of me.”

“Right.”, you came to your senses, you knew Miguel, he loved everyone. You turned to the mirror one last time to touch up on your lip stick.

Did he get everyone diamond necklaces?

A thought flashed across your mind as you watched him through the mirror.

“Hopefully Ben Reilly isn’t all too dramatic about missing our first dance.”, you commented as you grabbed your bag, all set to leave.

But your statement had caught his attention.

“What?”, Miguel quipped, his brows furrowing.

“He asked you to the dance?”, another question.

“Yes, someone was going to.”, you shrugged your shoulder, your eyes not leaving his.

He wanted to yell out in frustration. He should have asked you, he should have kissed you in the cafeteria or held you close in one of those meetings, to tell the whole world that you were his. Now his own hesitance and fears in pursuing this thing that he felt for you meant someone else had chosen you already.

Gah, Ben Reilly? no él. You could do so much better, you deserved someone better.

His fingers itched to pull you close now, to seal the deal and tell you that he wanted to be the one for you if you could accept him as he was.

His eyes were distant, focused on the floor as though he was let down. Time was ticking, decisions had to be made. You could get into that taxi and make it to that dance with Ben or you could stay here for a second, to hold out your hand to him and see if he took it.

“I was hoping you might ask me first.”, you rolled your shoulders back, his eyes found yours. He was silent as he chewed on his lip.

“Were you going to ask me?”, you swallowed your anxiety as you stepped towards him, your heart fluttering with hope and dreams of what could be if only he allowed himself to enjoy this.

Sí, yes, yes, yes, tell her yes damn it, open your mouth and say something. If not she’s going to slip away from your fingers.

His thoughts were raging. But the silence dragged on and as he opened his mouth to say something, he held himself back and he could only watch as you pursed your lips.

With a soft nod you left. His silence was an answer. He was never going to take the jump.

The gala was in full swing, and you ran down the corridor once you got out the taxi. The first dance with Ben, you could not miss it now. All your hopes with Miguel was now ruined.

The grand doors swung open for you and the moment you entered, the music simmered down. No one was dancing. There was a clearing in the middle beneath the sparkling chandelier and only then you hear his voice. He was in the middle of this commotion.

No wonder he didn’t like parties, he had a way of crashing them.

“Is she here?”, he searched the crowd when every other spiderman and spiderwoman had spotted you listening to their spidey sense.

He was wearing a tuxedo, his tailored pants making him look taller, his hair was a wind swept mess, his bowtie was still in his hand and his collar wasn’t fully set in place.

He looked like he had swung across the city in an hurry to beat you to it. Nueva York did have it’s moment with traffic and what not.

“Where is she?”, he was frantic before someone pointed towards your direction. He straightened and turned to you as you made your way to him.

“I’m in – he was still catching his breath.

“The answer to your – he stopped again.

He was all over the place.

Think Miguel, he chided himself

Speak in coherent sentences, he closed his eyes in frustration.

But how could he when your soft touch made him think of heaven. Your hand was in his, taking the bow tie out of his grasp.

He stood still, his eyes boring into yours as though he had so much to say he could write a book.

You stood on your toes and he dipped his head, allowing you to slip the bow tie around his neck. You worked deftly to fix his tie in place and then corrected his collar that stuck out.

You knew what this meant, you knew how big the rejection could be now, everyone could sense what was going on between you both. But it also showed him that your choice was clear.

“You were saying?”, you looked up at him through your lashes.

“Yes. I was going to say yes.”, he blurted urgently.

“If I were to tell you everything I felt,”, he paused.

“no se por donde empezar.”, he took your hand.

This was his chance. This was where he needed to prove his intentions. With the whole society gathered here, he would declare that he wanted to be yours.

“Then let’s begin with a dance.”, you placed his hand on your waist and watched his eyes come alive.

“That’s how you do it, Tío.”, he heard Miles and maybe this once he’ll go easy on the kid.

The music resumed and everyone gathered for the first dance of the evening, even without his spider intuition he had an inclination that he was going to enjoy this gala the best.

“I’ve only ever wanted to be yours.”, he heard you say and time came to a stop.

“I don’t give just about anyone antique necklaces.”, he pulled you close to speak into your ear.

“I thought so.”, you chuckled as you leaned closer to kiss him and when he kissed you back you were sure this was the magic.

When he pulled away, he was glowing without a hint of worry on his face and in that moment you could tell that this was how he had been, before all the pain.

He spun you around and one dance turned into a lot of dances, he didn’t leave mid way, he laughed louder and before you knew it, he was the life of the party. Indulging in the shenanigans with other spider people, this was his truest self, shining and shimmering as it broke through the cold facade he kept it hidden in.

When he finally came back to you, the top few buttons of his shirt were opened, his bow tie put away. He was free, you could sense it.

He took a seat next to you away from all the energy of the event to watch the others as you enjoyed your drink.

“So I was thinking of a way to pay you back for the necklace.”, you told him.

“Te dije, Querida. – he slid closer to you, telling you that he didn’t want anything in return.

You pouted, leaning in closer to nuzzle his nose, “I had worked out that since money wasn’t as valuable to you, I could pay up in kisses.”

“But oh well, it’s no use now.”, you began to turn away but he tilted your chin towards him again.

“That is a settlement I can agree on.”, he murmured, his eyes a swirl of colours in a mix of pink and purple.

“When would you like your first deposit?”, you grinned, sheltered in the privacy of the enclove.

“Now.”, he whispered and slipped his hand to the back of your neck, bracing your head in his hand as he kissed you.

And in the middle of shimmering gowns and tuxedos, you were lost in his warmth, in a world that only existed in his eyes. ✨

---

Send help, I can't stop writing him 😩

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099

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kreumiya · 7 months

Text

★・fever dream part 2

Fever Dream Part 1

The dreaded day was here — well, not entirely dreaded as you would be able to be by Sunday’s side publicly . You let yourself get dressed in your fanciest of clothing and it seemed that Sunday’s fever had come down quite a lot.

“I told you I’d be fine,” he sighed, “you worry too much.” He appeared in his signature suit, which you thought definitely needed a change once in a while. “Plus, even if I still had a fever, I’d have to appear in front of the masses, wouldn’t I?”

You agreed, being a part of The Family meant that you had to keep control of the masses and make sure that there weren’t any cracks in the facade they had built up. But that really wasn’t any of your business, you were just an assistant… right?

“Yeah, it’s a shame how you can’t take any breaks,” you mumbled. “Well at least you can go to the banquet with me, that’s a positive.” You flashed him a grin, hoping it’d uplift the mood between you two.

“At least I do,” he smiled.

You didn’t know it’d be this nerve wracking. Well of course Sunday had told you many times that “it’ll be alright” and that “it’s just a banquet” but it didn’t stop your heart from beating faster than ever as you walked into the hall, filled to the brim with esteemed guests from all across the universe. It seemed as if you were just a drop of water in the ocean as you trailed behind Sunday.

After seeing some familiar faces in the crowd like the Nameless, which you had seen across the news despite not knowing anything about them. What seemed to be Misha – and a purple haired woman next to him. The Iris family had seemed to be putting on an interesting performance on the stage and it seemed that the roar and bustle of the entire galaxy seemed to be gathered in the banquet hall. Servants with large trays of champagne and appetisers roamed the spaces between crowds and you seemed to almost walk directly into Sunday when you turned to make your way to your table.

“Hm?” he said, turning around to get a good look at you. “Care for a dance?” You smiled, who could decline an offer to dance by the Sunday himself? He took you by the hand, pulling you to the centre of the ballroom. Illuminated by the lights shining down on you both. It was oddly romantic and the whole world seemed to be spinning just for you, at least tonight anyway. Step by step you two waltzed across the ballroom, with you occasionally stepping on his foot, not like he seemed to mind anyway. You gripped his hand tightly, noticing how the light emitted by the chandelier accentuated his features. His blue hair and wings fluttered as you two moved.

Sunday finished off the short-lived waltz, saving himself from any more toe-stepping, by taking your hand and pressed a kiss on it. It really felt like you were in a dream – well you technically were but it all seemed so unreal, too unreal. But it was oh so very real and you felt your face getting noticeably redder and hotter. You felt like you were the one having a fever now instead of Sunday. He gave you a soft grin, and you definitely could see that he knew the effect he could have on you. Soon he disappeared into the crowd, swarmed by visitors and some members of the Bloodhound and Alfalfa families. You went to join Misha at the table and soon fell into deep conversation, the encounter from earlier never truly leaving your mind.

highkey this doesn't even relate to having a fever i just wanted to make wordplay!!!! anyways when will sunday leaks come out im actually in need of them 😭 😭 enjoy this for now!!!!!

#sunday x reader #sunday hsr #sunday #sunday hsr x reader #hsr x reader #fluff #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #penacony #hoyoverse #hsr sunday #star rail #hsr

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rafecameronsslxt · 1 year

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Shame

Soft!Marquis Vincent de Gramont x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: The people of France take your relationship with your husband to be described as loss of affection, but when you confront Vincent he becomes angry at you. Vincent takes his time to apologize with sex.

Warnings: SMUT, dry humping, p in v, fem receiving, and arguing.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Masterlist

France was a heavily ill-rumoured country but had the rumours of your relationship with the newly crowned Marquis been as bad as the mass was saying? That we looked estranged and angry anytime we were out together in public, which had been rare considering John Wick was running about killing, and we had security every hour of the day, sometimes even becoming a little too invasive.

Our bedroom was remarkably dark. It was fitting and not what I had wanted, but Vincent decided I had no say. The people we paid did as he said, walls black with a pretty shade of gold, an elegant crystal chandelier, and a king-sized bed with a headboard made of the finest materials. As a natural, we also got black silk sheets that melted your body to the bed until you never wanted to get up.

Our relationship wasn’t exceedingly…estranged. Vincent never seemed to have time for you anymore. His wife couldn’t fit into his schedule, and when you tried to talk with Vincent about the situation plaguing your mind, he’d get angry and shout at you for any reason because he locks his feelings up, not daring to tell you his emotions.

Tonight you were feeling explicitly irritated at Vincent, making it more than apparent when you got ready for bed beside him in the massive bathroom, sighing, grumbling, or throwing angry glances his way that he wouldn’t acknowledge. So instead, he heads to his study like every other night.

You walked the large hall in a rose gold silk bralette and bottoms with a slit on both sides of the thigh but in a tasteful fashion. You walked in unannounced, fed up with the formalities with your own husband. His dark green eyes glanced up at you and quickly returned to the papers he was sorting out on the polished wooden desk.

Your hands massage his shoulders softly like you’d done a million times before and attempts to leave marks on his neck, but he shrugs you off quicker than expected. You try gliding your hands under his robe, feeling his bare chest. “What do you need?” Finally, Vincent says something. You sit on the papers, seeing his face turn with outrage. “I need you.” You say, needy, watching him pinch the bridge of his nose.

Vincent picks you up by your thighs and drops you to your feet by the door. He plasters a fake smile at you and opens the swarthy wooden door. “No. I’m not leaving Vincent. You never make time for me. You don’t even touch me when we sleep in the same bed!” You raise your voice at him, being the only person who can actually shout at him, but he can get louder when he wants to.

His face falters at the change in your voice, and a pout becomes a complaint on your face, lips puffed out and looking up at him through your long eyelashes. “You always have to be so ungrateful for everything. I give you anything you want, and this is how I get thanked, sweetheart!” Vincent shouts at you, backing you into the railing outside his study. You flinch at his loud words in your ears, but they don’t just stop. He keeps going. “I’m trying to protect you and figure out John Wick before things fly off the handle. Do you want to go-” He stops mid-sentence, regret palpable on his face. “You’re going to do what. Kill me? Asshole, I can’t believe you right now.” You force his hands away from you, pacing back to the bedroom, slamming the door shut in his face, but he slams it harder, echoing throughout our home.

“You always act like a child!” His voice reverberated around the room. I throw my hands in the air. “It’s always me, Vincent! If you would just tell me what’s wrong with you. I mean, I get it, baby. You're not good with feelings, but please.” You were desperate, pleading with him to give in because you couldn’t handle another argument. The tears I was holding back slipped out slowly. He motions for you to sit on his lap as he glides a hand through his unusually dishevelled hair.

Vincent’s complexion becomes soft. He kisses your plump red lips lightly and leans his forehead on yours. “I’m sorry.” You nod at his delicate words that you get to lavish in. This was almost new, a foreign feeling you’d missed. You softly grind your hips onto his. Vincent lets a deep chuckle flow into your ears. He’s got a little smile adorning his face while Vincent’s hands take off the silky bralette, but his tender lips take their time kissing your collarbone, nape of your neck (surely to leave pretty purple circles), and boobs, like he was re-remembering your body meter by meter.

His lips connect to your nipples, sucking on them and tongue running over your now extremely sensitive boobs while your hips move faster, feeling his hard-on pressing against your clit. You became so entranced at the moment that you started speaking French. “Je t’aime tellement.” You moan out into his ear. (I love you so much)

Vincent hums out in agreement with you. He stops your hips, and you look at him, confused. His green eyes had brightened with the happiness you took advantage of before he’d been crowned. “Tu m’as manqué, ma chérie.” His face was as serious as ever, and his irises had a tinge of sparkle when you hid your face in the crook of his neck. (You are missing from me, sweetheart, or I’ve missed you, sweetheart)

The spark left when he flipped your back to the silky black sheets, his fingers wrapping around the waistband of both your shorts and panties, pulling them off eagerly. Vincent’s hands run over the smooth shaved skin of your body, smelling of jasmine and lavender, along with the essential oils used to keep clear skin. He takes a deep breath and begins kissing your thighs, each delicate kiss placed until his mouth reaches where you need him the utmost.

His tongue glides up and down your slit, teasing you, but the littlest touch articulates soft whimpers falling from your parted mouth while he looks into your eyes. Two fingers slip inside of you with ease, and then his mouth sucks on your clit. Vincent had never been a soft man, nor had he ever claimed to be, but when he was, it was the best pleasure you’d ever experienced, his soft French accent rich in your ear, whispering sweet nothings and making up for the things he’s done.

His fingers pick up the pace, but not enough to be considered rough, and you were more than satisfied to be treated gently after his harshness this past week. His tongue was doing overtime because of the flicking and suctioning, and fingers moving in and out had your thighs clenching around his head, eyes rolling to the back of your head, loud moans resounding from wall-to-wall back to Vincent's ears, making him harder than he already was. You were on the edge of release when his mouth and fingers left your body, emitting a groan. You hadn’t noticed he was naked until now. His plunging v-line and defined abdomen and his thin body are surprisingly muscular too, as you’ve been manhandled more times than you could count, especially when he thrives off inflicting pain on others around him, so the soft side of him threw you off sometimes.

He kisses you passionately despite tasting yourself simultaneously, pulling you by your thighs, and you feel his tip enter you, a gasp escaping your mouth. “It’s been this long?” His sentence is terse, and you nod, arms being thrown around his broad shoulders. Then, he bottoms out in you, and with pleasure comes pain because as much as it felt good, it’d take a minute to get comfortable. He moves in and out of you slowly, but even that was hard as you had been so tight that it was a problem to move, but eventually, he got into the rhythm, which was harsher than anticipated.

Your pedicured nails scratch his back, leaving red streaks that would satisfy the damage you have done to him, to remember tonight. His calloused fingers circle your clit quickly, and you don’t think you’d last another second. “I’m coming!” Tears fall from your eyes out of pleasure, and you hear his soft whispers, but he continues to thrust into you, becoming overstimulated. You then feel his hot cum cover your velvety insides. His grunts and curses fell from his kissable plump lips that you did kiss, and he pulled out, feeling his cum drip down your thighs.

Vincent enters the bathroom and returns with a damp washcloth, cleaning you up. He softly lies beside you, his arms around your waist, leaving no room for air, but you just wanted him to be close, and he was for once. It felt euphoric to have your husband back, kissing your shoulder until your eyes fall heavy and sleep carries you peacefully.

#vincent de gramont #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard fanfiction #john wick 4 #marquis de gramont #john wick chapter 4 #soft smut #bill skarsgard x reader #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont imagine

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yournowheregirl · 2 years

Text

omg thank you all for the overwhelming response to part 1 of secret-dolly-parton-fan eddie munson! here’s a part two as a little treat

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6 + complete on ao3]

part 2: here you come again

Ever since he discovered the Off-Road a few weeks ago, Eddie’s been going there almost every week but he hadn’t joined the open-mic night since that first night. He didn’t really feel the need to, because despite his own belief, he has actually managed to move on from his idiotic crush on Steve.

Well, almost.

Eddie had sworn off his crush once Steve announced that he and Emily were going on their third date. Steve was smiling from ear to ear when he said it too, though that usual sparkle in his eyes had remained absent. Eddie didn’t think too much of it, too busy wallowing in self-pity and cursing himself for setting himself up for heartbreak once again.

So, he moved on. Went to Indianapolis once or twice, found guys with striped polos and bright smiles who tried their best to take his mind off Steve (which, due to their eerily resemblance, didn’t really work out). Focused on helping Will with his new campaign for Hellfire, teaching him the DM tricks he had learned over the years. Played with his band until his fingers almost started to bleed from strumming the guitar strings a little too hard.

And it worked. Everything’s all fine and dandy, Steve’s barely on his mind anymore (except for all the times that he is) and Eddie’s just over him. One hundred percent. Done. No more Steve Harrington for him, thank you very much.

“Emily and I broke things off.”

Eddie almost drops the two bottles of beer he’s holding, stops dead in his tracks in the middle of the spacious kitchen of the Harrington home.

“Sorry, what?” Eddie asks because there is no way in hell he heard that right.

“Me and Emily.” Steve repeats, snatching one of the beer bottles out of Eddie’s hand and taking a long swig, his Adam’s apple bopping up and down. His mouth is glistening when he sets the bottle down and Eddie’s eyes zero in on them and - dear lord, get ahold of yourself, Munson. “We broke up. Turns out she wasn’t the one after all.”

“Oh shit. Sorry about that, man.” Eddie says, trying to keep his voice under control because he should not be jumping for joy that Steve and Emily broke up. No matter how much he wants to. He should also not be fishing for more details, but curiosity gets the best of him and the next thing he knows he asking, “Why’d you guys break up anyway? I thought you said you were crazy for her.”

“I mean, I was. Sorta, but not really, I think. Don’t get me wrong, I liked her and she really is a lovely person, ridiculously pretty too but… she and I just want different things.” Steve shrugs. “She always wants to go out, be somewhere, see something, go on wild adventures every weekend and shit. And I don’t know… I mean I like that, but I also want to sit back and do nothing for a bit y’know? Just simple, easy, like what we’re doing tonight.”

Steve bumps their shoulders together and Eddie tries his very best to ignore how Steve feels so warm, even for that short moment. He tries even harder not too read too much into Steve’s words, which means he’s definitely not thinking that Steve would rather spend time with him than with the supposed girl of his dreams.

Except when, a couple of beers later, Eddie finds himself a little too tipsy to stop himself from once again, falling for Steve like a ton of bricks.

But it’s not his fault that Steve’s eyes turn this magical color hazel underneath the warm lights of the living room chandelier. Or that his cheeks are this beautiful shade of pink from the alcohol in his system. Or that Steve’s laugh after Eddie tells the world’s lamest joke, is probably one of his favorite sounds in the world.

Oh, this is bad. This is really fucking bad.

Steve slouches against him when his laughter dies down, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder, all relaxed and warm. “I wish it was always this easy.”

“What?” Eddie asks. He’s surprised at how level his voice is considering Steve’s plastered against him like a vine that climbs up alongside a wall.

“I don’t know. Life, dating, anything really.” Steve sighs. “Nothing feels as easy as when I’m with you.”

Eddie feels his throat tighten at Steve’s confession. Not because he doesn’t feel the same. It’s the opposite, really. Everything really does feel a little easier when Steve’s around.

Everything, except this annoying crush that keeps coming back like a goddamn boomerang

“You’re drunk.” Eddie tries to laugh it off, hoping that it’ll make the heavy feeling in his stomach go away.

“I mean it, y’know.” Steve mutters. He rubs his cheek against Eddie’s shoulder and moves in just a little closer. Sighing happily once he finds a comfortable position. “You smell nice.”

Eddie knows for a fact he does not, it’s probably leftover weed smell, but his face still heats up at the compliment. “Let’s just… let’s just watch the movie okay?”

“Hmm, okay.” Steve hums, his eyes drooping already and Eddie just knows he’s gonna fall asleep within minutes.

-xxx-

Steve’s words keep echoing through his mind the next few days and Eddie’s feeling more restless than usual - if that’s even possible - and on Wednesday night, he drives off to the Off-Road again.

The drive itself calms him down just a little but as soon as he sits down at Pat’s bar, the feeling of dread washes over him once again. Not even the soft June Carter song that’s playing in the background is able to cheer him up right now.

“Geez Ed, you look madder than a wet hen” Pat says as she puts down Eddie’s drink on the bar. “Tell ol’ Pat here what’s going on.”

“Fuckin’ straight boys.” Eddie mutters, leaning his head on his hands. He’s moping and he knows it, but he really doesn’t give two shits right now.

Pat blinks at him. “You been fucking them or is this more like a fuck them straight boys situation? I’m only equipped for the latter one.”

Somehow, Pat’s piercing green eyes stare right into his soul and before he knows it, Eddie’s just spilling everything. “There… there’s this guy, y’know. He’s my friend.”

“Let me guess? Handsome?”

“Like a fuckin’ Greek God. It’s ridiculous.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “But it’s more than that. He’s also just… so nice. Seriously, he drives our friends around and let me host D&D campaigns at his house and he asks nothing in return. Great cook too, his brownies are to die for.”

“Sounds like a damn dreamboat. But he’s straight?” Pat sighs sympathetically.

“The straightest man you’ve ever seen.” Eddie grumbles. “And it’s fine, alright? I know it’s never gonna happen between us. But he just broke up with the girl he’s been seeing for the last month or so and then suddenly goes around tellin’ me shit like how much he likes being with me. How easy it is when we're together. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? That’s just…”

“Real fucking frustrating.” Tish adds as she passes by with a tray of drinks in her hands.

Eddie couldn’t have said it better himself. He takes a sip of his Coke, desperately wishing it was something stronger, and patiently waits before Pat speaks up again.

“I think you gotta put some distance between the two of you.” Pat says solemnly. “Now hear me out because it ain’t gonna be pretty, but sometimes you gotta take a step back to protect your own heart. And if you don’t wanna go that far, I suggest finding a healthy outlet to process your feelings because sulking like this ain’t doing you any good, kiddo.”

“And how do you suppose I do that?” Eddie rolls his eyes. “Do I look like I got the money to go to some expensive shrink?”

“Dunno, maybe some musical therapy?” Pat grins, her eyes darting back to the acoustic guitar on the wall. “You said it worked so well for you last time.”

Pat’s right. He did feel a lot better after playing Jolene the other night, it was like Dolly put all the things he was feeling right into a song. Maybe she could do the same for him now, because Eddie knows exactly what other song in her repertoire fits the situation.

He walks up to the podium once again, not even bothering to introduce himself this time because most of the patrons know him by now. He’s a little more unfamiliar with the chords this time around so it takes him a few tries before he finally gets it and the melody starts filling up the room.

“Here you come again. Just when I’ve begun to get myself together. You waltz right in the door, just like you’ve done before. And wrap my heart ‘round your little finger.”

It’s like Dolly’s been reading his thoughts these last few days because every single word just rings true in Eddie’s mind. Well, except that part about Steve’s little fingers because they are anything but little. Eddie knows, he’s spent the better half of their friendship staring at them and daydreaming about things that should never see the light of day.

“Here you come again. Just when I’m about to make it work without you. You look into my eyes and light those pretty eyes and pretty soon I’m wonderin’ how I came to doubt you.”

God, he’s so frustrated now. Steve probably doesn’t even know what he’s doing to Eddie and it’s so fucking unfair. How the hell is he supposed to move on when Steve keeps saying shit like that? When Steve continues to be a, in Pat’s words, a damn dreamboat?

Eddie strums the guitar a little harder, his voice becoming a little rougher. Almost like he’s spitting out the words

“All you gotta do, is smile that smile, and there go all my defenses. Just leave it up to you and in a little while, you’re messing up my mind and filling up my senses.”

The handful of people in the crowd are softly singing along, but it’s not like Eddie actually has eyes for them. His mind is solely focused on keeping his voice level, rather than start screaming. Maybe Corroded Coffin should do a cover of this song, should be a fun surprise for those drunkards at the Hideout.

“Here you come again and here I go…” Eddie finishes the song. He thanks the audience and slouches back into his seat at the bar, not feeling as good as he did the last time he performed here. It doesn’t feel as cathartic this time and instead there’s a hole inside his heart that no Dolly song can possibly fill.

“Feeling better honey?” Tish asks sweetly as she puts another bottle of Coke on the bar for him.

Eddie nods, even though it’s obviously a lie. Another wave of dread and restlessness washes over him. Because if he can’t turn to his mother’s favorite artist for guidance anymore, then what the hell is he supposed to do to get over his stupid crush on Steve Harrington?

Tag list: @henderdads @solosnail @unclewaynemunson @legitcookie @gothbat99 (hmu if you wanna be added to the list for pt 3!)

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson #steve harrington #seriously thank you for all your kind words on this lil fic series!!#i'm blown away by your response #so happy to see you love the eddie and dolly combo as much as i do 🥰#steddie dolly parton fic tag

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joelswritingmistress · 9 months

Text

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 13

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

I was exhausted and exhilarated and it wasn’t even noon. A part of me was still wondering if I would wake up and this would all be a dream.

“I know you probably did your own exploring while I was gone,” he said with playful accusation, raising his eyebrows with a smirk once we were back to the main level and fully clothed. “But if you’d like a tour, I can show you around.”

My stomach sank just a bit. I shook my head. “I wasn’t snooping.”

“It’s okay,” Dr. Miller chuckled lightly, “I told you to make yourself at home.” He looked me directly in my eyes, “How far did you get?”

“Oh, uh..” There was no way I was about to lie to him. He would have known. I could tell he was in that human lie detector mode again, feeling me out, seeing if he could actually trust me. “I saw the pool table from the kitchen so I went in there and I couldn’t help but check out your library. I actually picked up a book and I hope I placed it back in the right spot.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He cleared his throat and led me by the hand again. “There’s another pool out back.” Dr. Miller walked us toward a set of French doors that opened up from the kitchen out back, where a light snow had begun to fall, covering a dark green pool cover.

I glanced around the area, eying what appeared to be an outdoor kitchen and bar and a little pool house to the right and left, respectfully. A black fence surrounded the area and beyond a grassy backyard behind the pool area were a collection of bare trees. In the distance I could tell there was a drop off, lined with oversized boulders and rocks.

We crossed into another living room space that appeared more casual than the one where I had made out with Dr. Miller on the couch the night before. This room had an oversized sectional couch that oozed with comfort. In the center was a giant, square coffee table with a rustic, wooden top and above it hung what appeared to be a chandelier made from deer antlers. The peaked ceiling was a pale wood, giving it a cabinesque feel with dark, wooden beams that crossed from wall to wall beneath. On either side of the triangular peak were two rectangle sky lights giving view to the overcast, snowy morning. A third, stone fireplace sat at the far end with what appeared to be a buffalo’s head mounted on the wall.

Dr. Miller placed his hands on my shoulders from behind and I swallowed hard. We both stared out a pair of windows to the left and right of the fireplace that gave a view of the snowfall. I shuddered when I felt his fingers dig into the muscles of my neck and he began to massage the area.

“This is beautiful,” I spoke, taking in the brightly lit surroundings that were offset by the first snow fall of the winter.

Dr. Miller’s phone made a subtle beeping noise, three consecutive beeps to be exact, and he suddenly froze and reached into the pocket of his pants.

I could tell from the look on his face that something was up. His fingers danced along the screen for a few seconds and then he looked back up to me.

“What’s wrong?” I could see that his expression had changed.

He reached for the remote that sat on an end table beside the short end of the sectional. “Get comfortable.” Dr. Miller reached for a cozy, plaid blanket on the back of the couch and walked me around to sit down.

I raised my eyebrows , “Okay. Are you going somewhere?” I sensed that would be his next revelation and already felt disappointed. I didn’t want to be away from him. I knew that was selfish, childish even; but I didn’t care. My face might as well have gone into a full pout.

“Just for a few minutes,” Dr. Miller explained.

“Okay.” I cleared my throat and couldn’t help but pry. “What was the notification? A text?”

He shook his head. “No.”

There wasn’t another woman, right? I immediately felt jealous and it was as if he could read my mind.

“It wasn't a message from anyone,” Dr. Miller explained. He sighed and squatted before me where I sat on the couch, placing a hand on my ankle. “I have to go take care of something.”

His phone jingled again and he kept it planted face down against his thigh. My curiosity piqued even more. I felt like word vomit was about to come out of my mouth and it would leave all of my inner insecurities completely transparent.

“Does it have to do with another.. umm.. someone else? Another woman?” I stuttered the words out but I had to know. I hated myself for asking.

Dr. Miller smiled and then walked his hands up the couch cushions and planted a steamy kiss on my lips. He then pecked them chastely and remained close as he spoke.

“There are no other women.”

I swallowed hard and let out a sigh against his lips.

“And I'm going to have to demand there are no other men in your life as long as you're with me.”

My eyes snapped open and I stared back at him. He held a little smirk but his voice hardened just a bite as he spoke the words. I smiled back.

“There are no other men.”

“Good,” Dr. Miller spoke against my lips now. “As of right now, you're all mine until further notice.”

I smiled again and closed my eyes as he kissed me again, resting a hand on his bearded cheek.

“But I do have to go take care of something. It won't take long.”

“Okay,” I said. I still wanted to dig deeper into whatever business he had to tend to but I didn't. For now, I could live with whatever was going on as long as it didn't involve someone else.

Dr. Miller pushed the power button on the remote and handed it to me. “Don't go anywhere.” He winked and wandered away, making me grin.

I listened for a moment as I heard the jingle of keys and then the opening and closing of the front door. A second later I heard a robotic voice sound off stating: House alarm on.

Being alone in the oversized living room felt odd because of the unfamiliarity of it all, but I couldn't deny that I was perfectly content beneath the warm blanket as I sunk into the cushions a little deeper, laying my head back.

I can get used to this, I thought.

I began to scroll through the stations, landing on the local news and weather to get in touch with how much snow was to be expected. I knew I should have been more in tune with that sort of thing.

The five day forecast was plastered across the screen as a voice narrated from behind the camera.

“We're anticipating two to three inches of snowfall, though by rush hour the precipitation is expected to stop. If you don't have to be on the roads before five o'clock, stay home. If you are out and about, drive slow.”

I glanced out the window at the big, chunky flakes that left the ground almost completely covered. I didn't know where Dr. Miller was off to but I hoped he wasn't going far.

“And onto our next story, two local women have been found dead on the campus of Woodbridge University. One of them was a student there, and no suspects are currently in police custody. Police are urging residents to travel in groups whenever possible, and while no town-wide curfew has been set, it is crucial for students on campus to abide by the curfew set by the Woodbridge University Police.” A woman spoke directly into the camera with one of the main stone buildings on campus in the background.

“It's really scary,” a young woman spoke into a microphone. She sported a winter hat with a blue W in the center. “You just can't be too careful. We have to look out for each other.”

“I can't believe this is happening here,” another student commented.

I shook my head and shuddered, suddenly worried for Tori. It had only been one night but she was at the house alone and the news triggered a reason to reach out to her.

My eyes searched the immediate area but I quickly realized my phone was still on a charger in the bedroom. For the first time in my adult life, I hadn't even thought about my phone for hours on end.

I tossed the blanket to the side and crossed back through the house and up the windy staircase. I had the urge to open the two closed doors as I passed by but I didn't dare.

The phone sat where I had left it on the nightstand, plugged in and fully charged. I began thumbing the screen, finding our last messages from earlier in the morning.

Hey, I wrote, Just checking in because of everything that's happening with the girls in town. Please be safe! I won't be home for a few days.

I slipped the phone into the pocket of my lounge pants and smiled to myself as I glanced upon the tossed about sheets on the oversized bed. I still hadn't had time to process everything.

With a sigh I left the room and peaked in through the open office door. I could picture Dr. Miller sitting there with his glasses and a stack of papers, licking his fingers as he flipped from paper to paper.

In the back corner of the room there were a collection of small screens, each with a black and white image.

Cameras. I knew it.

I looked over my shoulder before wandering across the carpeted floor. All of the images were broadcasting the exterior of the home from every angle possible. The two interior cameras gave a few of the collection of cars inside the garage.

At least they aren't inside. Still, I didn't rule out that he might have one or two hiding out somewhere.

The view of the main gates showed what appeared to be an idling black SUV. I couldn't tell if it was him at first but Dr. Miller stood beside it, speaking with whoever was in the driver’s seat.

Who could that be? I wondered. An arm extended out the window and extended a white package of some sort to Dr. Miller, who accepted it and tucked it into the back of his pants.

An envelope. That's what it was.

I shuddered and hurried back downstairs, not at all knowing what to make of the exchange.

Secrets. I knew Dr. Miller had secrets but what were his? Fear definitely made its way into the depths of my heart and soul, but all of my other emotions teamed up and continued to push the fear down so deep that I barely felt it.

I was captivated. Enthralled. Infatuated. I was oversexed with desire and blinded by all of my feelings for him. Fear, currently, didn't hold any weight. Recognizing that in itself was scary - but I wasn't in the mood for logic, not when this amazing dark fairytale was explicitly in my lap.

With my adrenaline spiked and my longing for Dr. Miller’s return in full effect, I tiptoed my way back downstairs, tucked myself neatly beneath the blanket and waited for him patiently. Like a good girl would do.

CLICK HERE FOR NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds@cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17

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fullofgutsndopamine · 1 month

Text

climbing towards the sun (you fill my lungs)

or: the wedding singer au

TW/ drinking (to excess), cursing, corny, ambiguous ending (but happy ending), hasan is in a band, banter, talk of drinking (liquid confidence), hasan is an idiot

more hasan here

requests open

“and that was hips don’t lie, which is, oddly enough, the grooms favorite song.”

a single cheer is heard in the back. the groom, drunk, holds up a half empty beer bottle that sloshes over the side onto his stained tuxedo.

“that was a joke,” the singer continues, “for the other half of you.”

even far away, with the lights that are half off (and at this point, you doubt its ambience and more the shoddy electric bill wasn’t paid at this place) as the chandelier swings: left, right, left, right-a hail mary it doesn’t fall on anyone and this isn’t known as a wedding and a funeral- it’s easy to see him.

the singer looks nervous. holds onto the microphone stand with shaky hands stained yellow from nicotine you can see halfway across the floor. the stand is an obvious life boat for him; leaves sweaty handprints on it after his hand is moved (how his hands keep going to his eyes, as if he’s pushing an imaginary pair of glasses up his face, even though he wears none currently)

“anyways uh-“ his eyes dart around, like he’s waiting for something to take him out, “this will be our last song before the food-“

more cheers. more than he’s gotten the entire set erupts.

“Anyways, this is my favorite song so-enjoy.” he takes a step back from the microphone, strums, steps back: “or not.”

no one’s on the dance floor. people linger on the outskirts of it, like they’re waiting to be pushed in, a drunken bet, but no one takes the plunge.

“jesus.” you snort across the floor. Annie, your best friend is at your elbow, “at this point we should just pull the plug. this has to be abuse at this point.”

annie snorts over the rim of her cup: “i don’t know,” she shrugs, her finger traces over the rim of a lipstick stained cup, “i think it’s kind of cute, how nervous he is.”

you fake gag, an eye roll: “it was cute for maybe the first song. And then he fucked up the words to California Girls and frankly, i can’t forgive that.”

“Oh please,” Annie snorts, “this is like your fourth grade recital-“

“one, two-“

the drums hit immediately after and he begins, his lips pressed hard against the microphone, eyes shut in an attempt to forget this place:

“wouldn’t it be nice if we were older-“

“shut the fuck up,” you gasp, “did you tell him to play this?!”

“it’s a wedding,” she rolls her eyes, “he was like, contractually obligated to play this at some point-“

“hold my drink.”

“No!” annie protests, looks at the empty floor, “we can’t do-“

you don’t listen. instead, the cup is pushed into her chest and the dress is held up in your fist, a hand raised above your head as you ignore a vacant floor.

“Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray-“

finally nearing the end of the song, the end of this nightmare, where he can leave, he pops open one eye. he’s grateful he went without his glasses; seeing the world fuzzy and blurry around the edges makes it harder to make people out, don’t really exist to him

except for a second. one person exists. middle of the dance floor, not caring how empty it is-

suddenly, he’s not rushing through the words. they have to be perfect, have to be right, just for-

the song ends too quick. the bride comes on stage. a hand on hasan’s shoulder as she thanks them, slurring, half heartedly-hasan doesn’t care, has to get off the stage-

“Will.”

he jumps. his bow tie is undone around his neck and his hair is sweaty as it stands up in the back:

“dude-“ will begins but hasan cuts him off, his hand still on his shoulder-

“the person on the floor. during the last song?” he drops his voice, licks his lips, “were they hot? do i have a chance?”

he rolls his eyes: “isn’t the first rule of being a wedding singer to not fall for wedding guests?”

“it’s a yes or no, dick.”

will fumbles with his blazer, pulls hasans pair of glasses out from the breast pocket:

“go get them.”

the only good part of being a wedding singer is the free alcohol. after two shots the world spins loosely but he feels semi confident, plays with the sides of his glasses in his hand as he, half blind, tries to find the only face he wants in the crowd.

you aren’t hard to spot, to your own credit. the bridesmaids dresses are a sin, some tacky orange color that couldn’t be saved no matter what, and your hair, frizzy from dancing and the humidity of bodies around you doesn’t help.

hasan takes the final gulp of liquid confidence and, hands still nervously on his glasses, too afraid to shove them on his face, makes his way to you before he does something dumb, like come to his senses

“No,” Annie argues with you, “because having a Pitbull song would be dumb-“

“excuse you,” you snort, “that’s mister worldwide, to you-“

“oh fuck off-“

“hey.”

hasan gets the word out before he can stop himself. wishes he came up with something smarter, something that would make him stand out to you as much as you did to him-

“hey,” he tries again, “figured i’d meet my number one fan.”

you laugh and hasan has to stop himself from thinking how he’d never get sick of hearing that for the rest of his life-

this close, it’s easier to see him. see past the nicotine stained skin and the nervous ticks-replaced by a constellation of freckles you want to memorize, a mop of unruly curly hair

you hope your voice doesn’t come out as nervous as it feels.

“it was sad to see you crashing and burning out there, is all.”

he snorts: “and you waited until the last song to save me?”

“i was going to sooner but you fucked up California Girls and i don’t think i can forgive you for that.”

“yeah?” he giggles, a step closer to you and you can practically feel his body heat on you: “well, i think i can make up for that.”

“is it a public apology?”

“i was thinking more like a dance,” he says, “and an encore of your song.”

his hands still play with his glasses and even though it feels more vulnerable than you’d like, seeing him like this, so nervous, you’re ready for his before you can stop yourself.

“here.”

you open the glasses up, watch as his shoulders slump in an effort to not tower over you, letting you push the oversized glasses up his face.

you give him a second to adjust. pushes his glasses further up his face, looks up-

“better?”

you’re more beautiful than he thought. far out of his league, more scary without the blur around the edges-

“much.” he says, “so that dance?”

his hand wraps around yours before you can even get the yes out.

#caroline writes #hasanabi #hasan #hasanabi x reader #hasanabi x y/n #hasanabi x you #hasan x reader #hasan piker x you #hasan piker fanfic #hasan piker fanfiction #hasan piker fic #hasan piker imagine #hasan piker x reader #hasan piker

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chvnnie · 1 year

Note

bby how about lee know x temperature play 😳

ANYWAY ANY COMPLAINTS CAN BE SENT TO MY ASKS BECAUSE I DESERVE SO MUCH SLANDER FOR THIS ONE

SMUT — MINORS DNI

Minho has twisted ideas of pleasure.

Things you haven’t even considered tend to be his favorite. Thoughts he’s fed for years, ideas that have kept him up at night. Some practiced, some yet to be attempted. His head is always spinning, filed full of the most sinfully delicious ideas. So whenever he says —

“Close your eyes.”

— and puts that silk blindfold on you, your heart jumps into your throat on instinct. Fear and excitement getting muddied together, the hot and cold feelings causing your breath to quicken.

He only uses the blindfold for new things. Not for anything you’re used to. It causes your hand to shake in his, taking slow steps in whatever direction he’s chosen. He spun you around once your eyes were covered, taking away your sense of environment. It’s going to be better if you’re clueless. Helpless.

“Stop.” Minho whispers, a hand on your lower back. You do as he says, standing completely still as your partner walks away from you.

Your senses are your best friend. A creak, a click — actually, more than one. Six, it seems. A brief smell of something smoky. It’s all too hard to place, hands on your head as you try to process what’s happening. Where you’re at.

Another creak. And then there are hands on your hips, causing you to jump in surprise.

His chuckle is low. “Calm, angel. You’re going to like it, I promise.” Warm hands creep up your sides, wrapping around your back to unsnap your bra. As the cool air brushes against your nipples, causing them to pebble, his hands smoothing run down your back. Hooking your panties, body chilling as he pulls them off.

You can feel his head by your thighs. He must have squatted.

“Turn for me.”

Commands are always followed with Minho. As twisted his ideas of pleasure are, even more so are his ideas of punishment.

Slowly, you spin, letting him get a good look at your body. Once you believe you’re facing him again, you stop. Rewarded with two butterfly kisses, one on each thigh.

“Perfect, perfect girl.” He mumbles against your skin, causing goosebumps to erupt. His hands start to move again, up the back of your legs and finding home on your ass, where he squeezes once before standing — and lifting you along with him.

Gently, you’re transferred a hard, cold surface. The chill makes you flinch and gasp, legs coming up involuntarily. You hear Minho click his tongue before grabbing both your ankles, pulling them down and dragging you on the surface.

“Move again and you’ll get my belt.” He’s not in the mood to play around today.

“Yes sir.” You say softly, nodding your head to emphasize understanding.

Leather clasps your ankles, bounding you to what you’ve come to find is a table. Judging on how you’ve been stretching out, possibly the dining room one. Long and wide, perfect to spread your limbs out completely. Similar cuffs wrap around your wrists, body like an x.

Questions make your head spin. Why are you bond? Why are you on the table? But before you get a chance to breathe them, you feel your partner’s fingers on your face. Taking the blindfold off.

Your assumption was correct — it is the dining room table. The room is very dimly lit, eyes struggling to adjust. What is hovering above you? Squinting, you try to make out the circular shape.

When it becomes clear, a gasp of fear claws it’s way from your throat. While a joyous laugh comes from Minho.

The old chandelier hasn’t been used much. You didn’t really see the point — it wasn’t electric, and lighting candles every time you wanted to have a meal sounded exhausting. The table became more of a storage one, room abandoned in favor of eating in the kitchen or in front of the television.

Six candles. All lit, with wax slowly rolling down their sides. A drop falls, landing right in between your spread legs.

“You’ll never know when it’s about to happen.” He teases, still standing near your head. “Isn’t that exciting?”

It’s a slow burn. A method that can only be used if one of you has extreme patience. Unlikely for you, Minho could watch this all day.

Another drop, right on your belly. It’s warmer than you expect it to be, making you yelp in surprise. The next one, however, is hot. Hitting right on your left breast, cooling as it spreads across the skin. It’s then you realize the candles are red — warm blood spilling over you.

Your partner kisses your head before stepping away, eyes on the table the entire time.

“M-minho.” You whimper, hissing when a drop lands on your upper thigh. It’s too close to your core, an electric shock shaking your body.

“Hm?” He doesn’t bother to correct you. Too consumed with the distressed look on your face, eyes blown wide in a lustful fear. It’s too precious.

“It’s hot—“

“It’s wax.” He scoffs. “If you want it to stop, say so.”

Splat on your belly, on your rib, right on your nipple. That one, understandably, brings the first scream from you. Choking on your sob, you cry his name again.

“Say it, and I’ll move the table.” His dark eyes are fixed on you. Waiting. Knowing that you won’t say it, won’t end it.

Minho has twisted ideas of pleasure, and is the one who taught you pleasure. You like it just as much as him, if not more.

And truly, you do. When the wax starts to cool, spreading slowly down your body, it’s almost euphoric. Your head rolls back, softly moaning as another drop falls. On your throat. The sting is beautiful.

Eyes fluttered shut, you don’t notice that Minho has walked away. Don’t hear his steps fade, then rise in volume. The clinks of a glass. Too lost in your own head, hips bucking when wax hits your lower hip, to notice that he’s put something on the table.

That is, until the intense cold is pressed right against your clit.

Minho laughs when you cry out in surprise, body thrashing against the bindings. You lift your head to find him with an ice cube, and plenty more in a glass beside him.

“Relax.” He purrs, watching as a drop of wax lands on your upper thigh. His free hand presses into the puddle, spreading it out across the expanse of it. “Enjoy it.”

What do you focus on? The cold that’s taken over violently by heat the second you get used to it? The stinging wax that hurts just enough to be pleasant?

Minho works the ice cube down your core, massaging it around your folds. Your chest is heaving, the pleasure almost blinding. It’s better than euphoric; like you’re on another plane of existence, every nerve in your body icy hot. Every cell dancing, the frosty burn making you reel.

The cube melts, cold water running down your cunt. A drop of wax lands on your mound, mere inches from your clit, erasing the chill you were once smothered in.

Your mouth is dry, words almost impossible. All caught in your throat, overpowered before they can even make it to your tongue.

Somehow, you call his name. “Minho.”

It’s broken. Barely audible. Yet he looks up from between your legs, sweet brown eyes wider than you’ve ever seen them.

“Angel?”

His hands on you are neutralizing. A comfort, grounding you as the pleasure threatened to drag you away. It’s a twisted, twisted thing you’re about to ask for.

“More?”

The smile he gives is genuine, wild. Fishing for another ice cube, he lets it hover above your cunt. Drip, drip, drip the harshly cold water over you as the sweet wax burns your collarbones.

“As you wish.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee know smut #minho smut #lee minho smut #skz drabbles #skz hard hours #chvnnie thots

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blackghostm2o · 4 days

Text

Yo! I’ve watched PotO 1991! I didn’t plan to, but I’ve just discovered it and found it on YT so I said “Why not?” (Spoilers ahead)

It is charming, doing things a bit differently than the other musicals.

The Daroga is presented, which is really surprising, but he is really different from his book counterpart… Unfortunately he is used for comedy effect. Also his accent is a bit forced… They did him a bit dirty.

The relationship between Christine and Raoul is established with a lil ballet of the two young lovers in which he catches her scarf (yk the drill). Here Raoul is pretty close to his book counterpart, with doing whatever it takes to try to save Christine, ect…

The 2 directors are hilarious, that behave like an old couple that always argues about small things, loved those two.

Madame Giry has a strange haircut (very important detail BG, how could we do without it) and also substitutes, in part, Mama Valerius’s figure (she’s the one telling Christine that Erik is the SPIRIT of music)… strange choice.

Erik is DRAMATIC AF, I love it! The whole part at the lair singing and moving and falling, aaaaaa… He also does many shenanigans lmao. The unmasking went much better than I thought, he didn’t attack her, was pretty gentle (*cough* unlike Book Erik *cough*) his makeup is not that bad. I find a bit funny how at the end he tries to lure another woman to be her teacher (a ballerina this time), goes completely against the original Erik (but we have to separate these 2 entities), so it means that he wasn’t really shaken by Christine’s decision (basically being: “Oh no! Anyways”). He doesn’t use a lasso :( he killed Buquet with an axe. NO CHANDELIERS WERE DROPPED :((( And I find hilarious how the name Phantom is ever used, I imagine them being like “Ok guys! REMEMBERED TO NEVER SPEAK THAT WORD! WE ARE IN DANGEROUS WATERS! WE ALREADY HAVE A SIMILAR MASK, WE CANNOT AFFORD TO GO FURTHER!!!” Ah, I didn’t know that Jerma has been a phantom (so sorry for the shitty joke, David Staller did a great job)

This Cristine had the guts to give Erik’s mask back while looking at him also made the choice to go with Raoul (in the novel and ALW musical her actions are more powerful tho)

No confrontation at the end, Erik just gives Christine the choice without restraining Raoul, pretty reasonable of him (and I thought that Cherik was the most reasonable), a bit anticlimactic… Didn’t really enjoy it, ngl.

This was an overall good experience. Pretty funny (had many good laughs), this is more of a comedic take on PotO, there aren’t the elements that make it a tragedy and something to cry your eyes out. I recommend this if you are in the mood for some laughs.

Almost 2am

G’night

#phantom of the opera #poto #poto 1991 #phantom of the opera 1991 #rambles #ramblings

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bluebayousblog · 1 year

Text

RUMOR HAS IT (pt. 8)

(Drew Starkey one-shot)

This is not a full on story but if you want more l'll be happy to add on upon request

Plot: in which drew and isobel address a false rumor in the most abstract of ways

Setting: dinner with the cooper's and starkey's + post dinner

Disclaimer: Isobel is an OC, 18+

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART SEVEN

Drew was sat at the Cooper’s mahogany dining table, the light from the crystal chandelier bouncing off the gloss and practically illuminating the plates of food sitting in front of them. He’d awkwardly walked into the room after his father, and chugged his water to try to clear the lump in his throat. The conversation with Charles still fresh on the boy’s mind.

He was sat between his brother and his mother, leaving the woman that had been the subject of his father’s implications to be sitting across from Drew. A blessing because he didn’t have to make a noticeable effort to look at her beautiful face, but a curse due to the man sitting at the end of the table with eyes on his every move. Drew had been confident that he successfully convinced Charles there wasn’t anything going on with him and Isobel, but with every glance or word spoken to her in front of him made it feel like he was looking right through him.

His father’s eyes had always made Drew feel completely exposed growing up, like he could see every thought running through his mind, or sense every word before it left his lips. He just had a way of looking at him and making all of his emotions come to the surface, and it was something Drew had to learn to immunize as he got older.

Drew had never had a problem with anyone knowing about him and Isobel until now. From that first kiss they shared he never felt that urge to keep things quiet like she did because Isobel wasn’t something to hide. Every intimate moment that he’d shared with her thus far felt like a step in the right direction, and for once he felt he made a decision his father would be proud of without his intervention.

Everything about this dinner felt different, usually he would be getting scolded by his mother for being on his phone entertaining some random girl—but now the girl he wanted to talk to was seated in front of him. And it felt like torture not to converse with Isobel like they’d been doing these past few weeks. With both of their families’ present it felt like even a simple utter of a word between the two would give them away.

“Isobel, how’s school treating you?” Drew’s father asked before taking a sip of the whiskey from his glass.

Though Isobel was trying her damnedest to avoid her gaze falling on Drew she was slipping up at times. It took her everything to tear her eyes away but she didn’t miss how his eyes rolled at Charles’ question. She knew the son and father had their problems, but to her Charles was the only other man she felt she could fully trust besides her own father. In the past she would find their little arguments to be petty especially since the reasoning always involved the family company, now she wanted to hear exactly what was on his nerves. They stayed back in the den for a minute, and now seeing Drew visibly bothered was the only thing she could focus her mind on.

“I aced all of my final exams.” Isobel smiled not able to contain just how pleased she was with herself with the accomplishment as she bared all of her teeth.

The table was promptly filled with congratulations, glasses clinking together in cheers as everyone took a celebratory sip, Isobel and Chandler having sips of water of course. One thing she learned early on was that she didn’t have the desire to drink around her family again because when she did have a little bit too much she always became the butt of the joke that never died.

Everyone’s eyes were on her, filled with pride and admiration and then there was Drew. He looked at her with a knowing look in his eye, with a subtle smirk on his plump lips that only she could notice before dropping his dark stare back down to his plate.

“We expected no less, no distracting little boys to throw her off course, right darling?” Isobel’s father, Richard, assumed as he always did since her last breakup.

The table seemed to have gone still at his question, her love life had never been a topic of conversation until she started dating her ex-boyfriend Grayson. And the messy ending she endured put everyone on edge at the idea of her getting into another relationship. For the men at the table it came from more of a protective standpoint while she thinks her mom and Catherine were just interested in who she would date next.

Two weeks ago she could’ve confidently answered his question with an innocent nod without worrying about if anything was giving her away. Now she was overthinking and hopefully not visibly hesitating as she lied to her father in a hum of agreement.

“What about you, Drew?” His mom asked politely behind a napkin.

His eyes snapped to his father who was already looking at him as he leaned back and crossed his arms against his chest. Drew could feel the burn of Isobel’s gaze and it was taking everything not to steal another glance.

“What about me?” He asked around his fork, he wasn’t sure if she was referring to him having a girlfriend or the outcome of the fall semester. For him both of the answers to either of those questions heavily revolved around Isobel.

“Are things going alright for you at school as well?” His mother asked with a smile.

Alright was an understatement for how he felt things were going for him at the moment. Never had he felt so stable in his emotions in his life. When he thought of school he now thought of Isobel. The parties that he always found himself thinking of her for majority of the night, wondering if she was okay before he got distracted with a random girl. The classes he sometimes found himself being late to because he insisted on walking Isobel to her’s after crossing paths. The exams that he almost studied for her with but ended up making out with her instead. The truck his father had gotten him after accepting the job offer at C&S that he made her moan his name in on that chilly night outside the library during finals week.

He’d never returned from school and felt so at ease, never felt so content with where he was. That feeling of needing to get back to some thing or someone at school never settled over him because everything he needed was here in this room.

“Better than ever, Mom.” Drew answered.

The entire dinner Isobel’s body had been hanging on to his every word and movement, no matter what he did her body reacted. And the way he was running his fingers around the rim of his glass while glancing at her while he spoke had goosebumps shooting down her arms.

She felt the implications in his words, it was laced in his body language, in his blue eyes, in the tension exuding off of him. It was tension that only the two felt, and for Isobel it was feeling like she was going to be burned.

“No girls I presume?” Charles knowingly asked behind his glass.

The tips of Drew’s ears heated at the question, he was beyond confused on what his father’s game exactly was. He let the conversation in the den go pretty easily. His accusations were so vague and Drew assumed it was his way of saying a relationship with Isobel would ruin his chances at the company—but with the way he was sitting at the end of the table with that smug look on face had Drew shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

If he wanted to see if he would lie about dating Cooper’s daughter right in front of the man’s face, he was going to get nothing less. If Isobel wasn’t comfortable with them knowing about their relationship that was final, and his obnoxious father wasn’t going to get in the way of keeping her happy.

“No, I’m just trying to put all my focus into C&S, Dad.” He promptly answered, knowing it would please him, and hopefully shift the topic of discussion from his dating life.

There had been a point when all of Drew’s worries consisted of finding a girl to occupy his time, and barely getting his assignments in before the deadline—but things were so obviously different. He’d accepted the job offer from Cooper & Starkey, and everything seemed to fall into place like finding the first piece that starts that first cluster of a puzzle. Finally signing away his life to the family company seemed to have opened his eyes, so he could actually see Isobel. To Drew it felt like his body and mind locked on her when it knew he could take care of her in someway. That was one of his main worries now besides the company, doing everything he could not to disappoint her.

“That’s what I like to hear, but remember it’s okay to find that special someone to share your life with, Drew.” Cooper insisted, his swaying voice capturing the attention of everyone at the table. “It feels good when you start earning your success, but it’s nothing in comparison to having someone standing proudly by your side when you finally get there.”

Though Cooper was speaking to Drew his eyes were on Lora who sat adjacent to him who was gazing back with so much love in her stare. His mother, Catherine, was doing the same, smiling sweetly at his father who seemed to have shed that hard exterior he was always putting forth as he gave her a wink. Drew couldn’t help but think of one woman as he contemplated Cooper’s statement and when he looked up to put a face to the name circling in his head, she was already staring right at him. He hated that no one at this table thought that Isobel could be that special person for him, and it just made him want her more.

Isobel could sense there was something on his mind, her eyes struggling to break from his even with her brain screaming for her to look away. Everyone was distracted by her father’s words, and they were taking full advantage of the heavy moment. As anxiety inducing as it was for Drew to have that dark gaze on her so openly at the table it felt right—to be finally seen by someone she’d shared dinners just like this with so many time before. And for the table conversation to be consisting of talks about building a future, actively seeing understanding form in the eyes of the man that was warming her bed and coincidentally her heart sent heat coursing through her veins.

Everyone had veered off into their own conversations she’d noticed when a clang of a fork hitting the dinnerware knocked her out of a Drew induced trance. Her father and mother and Charles and Catherine muttering things to each other she had no interest in deciphering. Isobel was tired and her dress was feeling a tad bit more uncomfortable then before the dinner began and Drew eventually took his seat across from her.

She was thinking of a respectful out to the rest of dinner just as her mother beat her to her first excuse. “Do you boys think you can help with the set up tomorrow for the business cocktail? We just need the table and chairs placed onto the floor.” Lora sweetly asked, and though she would end up moving things around to her own liking no one was going to object. Isobel sighed to herself knowing getting into business event territory would stretch the dinner time at least half an hour.

Drew immediately agreed, the ‘of course’ he supplied making her fidget in her seat at his raspy voice. Damn her straps were really starting to feel like they were sticking to her skin. She made sure her mother’s attention was occupied by Catherine who was scolding Chandler for his disinterest in helping with setup before she tried to discreetly adjust the fabric on her shoulders. Not being able to garner much of any relief with her own fingers the material snapped against her skin as she released it with a huff of air that she abruptly swallowed once she realized Drew had been watching with tinted eyes. It was that moment the tightness of the her straps transformed into the feeling of a flames searing into her flesh as he focused his attention on the area. His pink lips twisted while his jaw clenched outlining the ruggedness of his facial structure and so clearly highlighting his obvious frustration before he looked away once more.

“Not to rain on the event planning parade, but I told you guys the senior winter bonfire is tonight and I’m going to be late!” Chandler announced and pushed his chair back causing the most ear wrenching screech to sound in the room as he successfully dodged agreeing to help prep tomorrow.

“Is it eight already, honey?” Catherine questioned her youngest son, obvious shock in her voice from how fast time had slipped by. In the contrary Isobel felt like she had been glued in her seat for a never ending five minutes not the hour and half that it had truly been. “Half past actually, I love you all dearly.” Chandler bid a farewell before Drew clamped a hand on his shoulder and stopped him from getting out of his seat.

“Thank you for spending a little extra time with us, buddy, we know you have plans.” Charles reveled at his obvious favorite offspring then fell back into conversation with Isobel’s father.

“You are very welcome, old man, now Drew if you would just let me be on my way-“ He said as he tried to roll his brother’s tight grip off his shoulders before Drew interrupted.

“-Agree to help Lora and Mom tomorrow with setting everything up and you’re free to go.” He squeezed Chandler’s left shoulder tight enough to make him uncomfortable while also letting him know there was only one option to get him to let go.

His bratty, little brother begrudgingly rolled his eyes before finally relenting, “I’ll be there tomorrow as soon as you need me.” He mumbled, but straightened under an annoyed look from Drew, “Promise! Now I really have to go!”

“I’ll walk you to the door.” Drew offered and got out of the seat walking out of the room before Chandler finished saying his goodbyes.

He used the time alone in the hallway to adjust the bulge that had been stretching out his slacks since Isobel came down those stairs, Chandler appeared behind him just as he dropped his hands back to his sides.

They walked to the main foyer in silence, Drew stuffed his hands inside the pockets of his pants, contemplating if he had the energy to scold his brother about helping out his parents every now and then.

“I see you’ve come to your senses.” Chandler smirked while rubbing the shoulder he had been abusing earlier.

Drew’s eyes furrowed in confusion, “Be more specific, Chan.”

His younger brother’s smile had now turned into a full shit eating grin as he stared back towards the dining room and shook his head, “Specific like how fucking good that little black dress looks on Isobel, or how you couldn’t keep your eyes off her towards the end of dinner tonight?”

Fuck.

“Isobel has always been gorgeous.” The man tried to deflect, this was the second family member to try to make presumptions, and he was starting to see why Isobel was so adamant about them putting a pause on things until after break.

“But she’s gorgeous and sexy—the whole fucking package—when I realized that she was also sexy among everything else things were never the same, you know what I mean?” Chandler smiled to himself, that one image of Isobel in that black bikini from two summers ago probably burned into his memory.

Drew knew exactly what he meant, and the shared sentiment was more aggravating than endearing. He hated that he’d shared a similar revelation in regards to Isobel that someone else had.

The way it happened would be something he would never forget. Isobel pulling open her door on a random day in December, her pretty face a pleasing sight to see just as it always was. In his head it was like there was a blur between the time he’d deemed her as just a stunning woman to when those looks suddenly turned tempting. That moment his eyes swept over her body in concentrated interest was so intense every platonic or familial feeling he had for her before ceased to exist. That’s what it felt like to be with Isobel, what it felt like to be with someone you once considered a friend and now craved.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, be careful tonight.” Drew responded, giving Chandler a smack on the chest and turned to head back to dinner.

“Okay but remember you snooze you lose, and according to my driver’s license I’m now of age to wine and dine her fine ass.” Chandler sang with a smirk before slipping out of the door.

Drew heaved a sigh as he locked the door, all this speculation being thrown at him was wearing him out. When he eventually made his way back into the dining room two seats were empty excluding his own leaving the parents to be giggling over some glasses of red wine, “Where’s Isobel?”

“She’s in the kitchen, why don’t you make yourself useful and help her with the dishes?” His father suggested. Drew had no problem being subject to his father’s rudeness if it meant he could have a moment alone with Isobel.

He couldn’t help but chuckle as he heard Lora give him a thank you followed up with a wine induced giggle. Shaking his head in amusement, he entered the kitchen to find Isobel standing at the kitchen sink washing the plates that they’d been eating off of with carefulness. She was wearing an apron most likely to avoid ruining her dress, the knot she made in the back to secure it to her body causing the silk to ride up in the back, exposing more of her soft looking thighs then she was probably aware of.

Isobel was trying to get the dishes done as fast as she could without breaking her mother’s beloved glass wear. The quicker she could get upstairs to her room and avoid any potential temptation the better. She hated that just thinking of his dark stare was enough to lose a handle on her self control.

Just as she was rinsing the soap off a slippery plate under the kitchen faucet the feeling of a hand tugging the skirt of her dress further down her behind caused her to unexpectedly inhale a breathe of air and the plate to slip from her fingers at the suddenness. The front of her body was then pushed flush against the sink as a hard chest and stomach pressed into her back and reached around to swiftly catch the plate that was seconds away from shattering.

She immediately recognized the hand in front of her and the feel of how his body always fit so well against her own. “You look so domestic, Izzy.” He mumbled lowly into her ear before moving to her side to grab a hand towel to start drying the clean dishes.

The never ending supply of nicknames and the way they always seemed to leave his mouth in a raspy drawl was going to be the death of her. She loved that he always had her name in his mouth, like he couldn’t get enough of saying it, like he knew the affect it had on her.

“I just didn’t want to get wet.” She countered referring to the frilly apron she was wearing, but regretted the words as soon as they left her lips and she definitely regretted them when their fingers brushed during the pass off of a crystal glass—she fumbled the ridiculously expensive cup and he of course caught it on instinct.

Drew cleared his throat ignoring the unintentional innuendo and the vivid image of that night in his truck that had him clenching his jaw as he focused on the task at hand.

“They’ve opened another bottle of wine in there.” He shared and gave her a playful nudge of the elbow to her side, hoping a lighter subject change could get their minds out of the gutter.

“That bottle could end up being the point of no return, we can’t let them finish it.” She giggled and picked up the pace on the dishes then moved to help him dry the rest of the dishes, “Then again it will be funny to know you have to drive your drunk parents home.” They’d experienced plenty of nights witnessing Lora and Catherine resorting to horrible karaoke for post dinner entertainment.

“I’m not worried about that, you know Charles doesn’t do more than two drinks.” Drew trailed then finished off the rest of the work, liking the way Isobel relinquished her duty and rested her back on the Island as she watched him, “Plus I’m not leaving tonight.”

Her back straightened at his words, “You’re not?”

“I’m not.” He repeated as he turned to face her. She was overthinking, he could tell by the way she was biting her bottom lip and fiddling with the hem of her apron.

Isobel was currently trying to convince herself that she could spend another twelve hours under the same roof as Drew and not be completely consumed by him. That she could lay in her bed and not think about the fact that he was just one floor below her for the entirety of the night. That she could go this entire vacation, and not break the rules the first fucking night.

“Isobel, I’m just tired and don’t feel like driving to a bed when I can go straight to one here.” Drew reassured her, wanting to see if he could get her to relax. He had no problem going home if this made her uncomfortable.

“That makes sense.” Isobel nodded, she wanted him here, she just hated how much she actually wanted him to be here with her.

It was silent for a moment between the two, Drew watching her until she caught his gaze and offered a shy smile—his favorite smile. The sound of rowdy laughter in the other room made Isobel jolt, he couldn’t help but grin in amusement as she groaned and put a hand over her heart.

He followed her movement when she reached behind her back and pulled the string to the apron she was wearing that was protecting her from water—that was putting a needed barrier between his eyes and her body. She pulled it over her head, and suddenly Drew wasn’t so sure if staying here made any sense at all.

For the second time that night he drunk her in, this time with no shame because it was just the two of them. His hand squeezed into a tight fist at his side as he observed the way the dress hugged her figure. A dress like this left nothing to the imagination when you knew exactly what the fabric was sticking to underneath. Her soft skin that always smelled of vanilla, her breast that fit perfectly into his hands, and every single place her body curved and dipped. He then took his time studying the way the silk clung snugly to her hips, the fabric slackening in that area solely because of the swell of her ass. The thought made his nails dig even further into the skin of his palms, “Fuck.”

Her eyes followed his gaze down to her lower body and heat bloomed deep in her belly, “Drew.”

He should leave and go home with his parents, they both knew that. There was nothing stopping him, if he was tired he didn’t have to drive his father would. He’d left his truck here plenty of times before, and his family would be back here at the Cooper’s tomorrow before they left for the business cocktail.

It was a bad fucking idea, they both knew it. They hadn’t touched once, and it seemed like things were still spinning out of control. It felt like watching a wild animal trying to be contained until they eventually snapped. That’s where they were heading straight to, unhinged territory that they could never come back from if they didn’t release, if they didn’t give in.

It was just a matter of who would give in first.

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART NINE

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