#I'll disappear again after today for at least another one and a half weeks. no clue when I'll be properly back just yet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

doubledgesword-2 · 3 years

Text

Breeding Kink

I’m taking this as a kink instead so I hope that’s alright for the request! I apologize if it isn’t! I treated them like drabbles and if I’m honest I’m a bit disappointed in my work ;-; this rose tea is not my best.

Illumi

You opened your door to your pitch-black apartment with the same sluggishness and tiredness you had walking all the way from your work to here. Today had been one of those days, and those were fine once in a while...but the entire week? No, that was not normal. You had been on edge and stressed to the point of burning out. So the plans for this evening consisted of showering, eating something quick, and just dying on your bed. That was until you noticed the figure sitting on your sofa.

Illumi's back was to you; he was so still and quiet, you might as well think he fell asleep while sitting.

"You're late," his voice cut through the silence.

"I didn't know I was expected," you replied, and it was the truth; Illumi had left for a week on a job and didn't even called you. You weren't feeling particularly forgiving this evening, and the edge of your tone contrasted the calm and monotony in his

"It's been a long day, Illumi, is there anything I can do for you?"

Your relationship wasn't the best when it came to normal; there was a lot of miscommunication or lack of it. But Illumi did his best, he was interested in you, and that didn't happen often.

"As my love interest, you should always expect me is a quality that every wife should have. It's their job to wait for their husbands no matter how long they take" Illumi turned slightly to look into your eyes as he talked.

You perked up at the word wife; he had never made allusions to marriage, at least not directly like this. You knew his goals when it came to relationships. Still, you always expected him to leave you in the end for someone more suitable, almost royalty. After all, his parents were very demanding, and you knew you didn't fit the role of the perfect wife, starting with the fact that you worked a regular job and haven't found your nen if you even had one.

"But we're not married, Illumi. Besides, I don't think your parents would approve of someone as vain as me. I'm not strong, and I don't meet the qualifications. So..." you shrugged in the end, dropping your keys on the counter and your bag nearby.

Your hand went to flip the switch; all this talk in the darkness was unnerving you, especially when you took into consideration Illumi was an assassin. Right when you flipped the switch, Illumi's hand was on your wrist, turning off the lights once more. You could feel his toned chest as he pulled you close to him. For a second, you struggled in a fight or flight response, and Illumi's face went to the crook of your neck. His breath on your neck sent chills down your spine as he planted a feather-like kiss on your pulse. The action almost threatening, and it made you swallow. The fear and desire burned equally in your veins as he stretched your clothes, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses all the way to your shoulder.

"I think I've given you too much freedom. Do you think you're in control in this relationship?" He whispered to your shoulder, his other hand holding you tightly to him. "Do you think you can talk back to me just because you're tired? If you're going to be my wife, you need to learn how to behave properly."

Illumi slammed you down on the island counter, both of your hands twisted on your back held with one hand. You gasped and yelped as he did so. Whether it was from desire or fear, you didn't know. He bent over you, leaning close to the side of your head, nibbling your earlobe and whispering.

"Don't worry, I'll teach you" Illumi's free hand caressed your side, going down and squeezing everything he could. "The first lesson is to obey my every command. Can you do that?"

You nodded frantically, and he tilted his head innocently as if he wasn't holding you down or grinding into your hips slowly.

"Good girl" Illumi turned your body so you'd be laying on your back facing him. His hands went to your shirt, ripping it open, sending the buttons flying all around.

"Second, we have to continue the Zoldyck Legacy..." Illumi caressed a trail down your stomach and undid his pants, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I'll ensure you're filled to the brim, just to be sure it takes. We still have all night to try."

Hisoka

Hisoka had managed to find you where you were staying. You were on a short business trip. After he had disappeared to go on another gig, you didn't think it would matter if you actually did the same for the same reason. But Hisoka didn't like that. Like the petulant child he is, he was expecting to arrive home and be received and welcomed with a nice meal and some more relaxing activities afterward. But all he got was a nicely written note on the counter explaining your absence.

P.S feed your cat dummy :)

"Hmm," the cat meow made him look down to the fluff currently sitting at his feet, "She left you too, huh? Well, at least you welcomed me." He said in a bitterly playful tone.

After feeding the adorable and fearsome beast that guarded your apartment, he went on to look for you. He wanted your attention, and he wanted it now.

You had been staying at a company-paid hotel near the station. It was a relatively short trip, three days max, counting on everything going according to the agenda. After you had finished your last reports, you were set for a nice shower and sleep. Your stomach growling said otherwise, though. So you ordered some room service and went to shower quickly just in case the food came. When you were out in your robes, there was a knock on the door.

"Coming"

You opened the door, still drying your hair, when you looked up at the man serving you. It was Hisoka. Somewhere along the way, after he figured where you were, he had seen the boy coming up with your food, and once that was temporarily disposed of, he went on to serve you.

"Mmm, hello (Y/N)-Chan, how lovely to see you" he rolled the cart inside the room and closed the door by slamming you into it.

"Hisoka, w-what are you doing here?"

"I was lonely and bored. You left me all alone" He licked a trip up your neck all the way to your cheek.

"You leave alone all the time; what's the difference?" You were angry at that statement, 'how dare he?'

Hisoka's eyes widened for a split second, but not in shock, more in amusement.

"Oh," he chuckled, the tone dangerous, "my bad, little pet, I didn't realize this was such a sensitive topic" his tone was whimsical and mocking.

"Here, let's eat, and maybe you'll feel better" without giving you a chance, Hisoka grabbed your arms and flung you into the bed.

After your first release, you felt tired. You had been working nonstop for these two days. Your eyes closed, and his half-lidded ones are the last thing you remember.

"You actually passed out, doll. Was our sexy time too much to handle, or have I been mistreating you all these weeks I wasn't there, hmm~?"

You let out a breath at his playful look. He was rubbing circles on your exposed stomach while straddling you.

"Mmm, I think you're not relaxed enough; we might as well try again. After all, you let all my efforts slip out; I'll have to work hard to fill you up again~" he pouted playfully, looking over your tired form. "Don't worry, you can sleep while I'm at it, little fruit."

Chrollo

You were currently perched on your island counter chair like a vulture looking down at its prey. The entire week had been a mess of deadlines, due dates, and unhelpful people. To say you were stressed was an understatement. You were so stressed you no longer felt stressed.

That's how Chrollo found you when he entered your house. He could've used the front door, but he wanted to surprise you, and now he was worried about your confused face staring down the laptop screen.

You were so concentrated that when his hand laid on your shoulder, you jumped with a yelp.

"Argh, don't scare me like that," you chuckled, giving him a quick peck on the cheek but immediately turned to the computer screen once more.

Chrollo pouted slightly. He had been gone for an entirety of two weeks because of a small job; the least he expected was to be received with kisses, praise, and hugs like it was a kings parade.

He understood the stress, but he wasn't having it.

"Have you eaten anything?" He casually asked.

"Not really, but I can make you something if you want?" Chrollo gave a small smiled at the fact that you'd roll were willing to attend to him. You just needed to relax.

"Don't worry, love, I'll go shower" you nodded, and he turned, making his way down the hall and disappearing. You heard the water turn on muffled because of the closed door.

While you were concentrated on your work Chrollo slipped out of the bathroom, he grabbed you by the waist, spinning you and slamming you against the wall. His lips were possessive and angry as he kissed you. Sandwiched between his toned chest and the wall, you tried to push him back but eventually gave in to the way his fingers caressed your sides, his tongue forced yours into submission, and how he grinds his hips suggestively.

"Chrollo," you gasped when he finally let go of your swollen lips to suck on the skin of your neck. "I have to w-work."

At the mention of it, he bit down hard on your shoulder, making you Yelp.

"No more work" he licked the bite, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses. "I just returned, expecting my little darling to receive me with kisses and at least one hug. But instead," his free hand grabbed your hips tightly enough to bruise, "you've overworked to the bone" your hands held his head close to your chest, ruffling his hair in the process and making him look even hotter.

"I-I"

"It's alright, I know how you can make it better" kiss on your shoulder.

"for both of us" kiss on your jaw.

"I'm going to shower, and you're coming with me; after getting on your knees for me, you can let me fill you up nicely."

"But-t" a moan slipped your lips as his knee went between your legs.

"And if you keep protesting, I'll just keep stuffing you until you can't think straight. See if you can work after that"

I hope this was good! I’m sorry if I butchered this 😭

#hisoka x reader #hisoka fanfiction #hunter x hunter fanfic #hunter xhunter #hxh #hisoka x y/n #hisoka morrow x reader #hisoka x you #hisoka morrow #illumi hunter x hunter #illumi x reader #illumi x you #illumi x y/n #chrollo hxh #chrollo x reader #chrollo x y/n #fanfiction requests

705 notes · View notes

imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

Good Girl, Bad Boy (Pt. 07 of 15)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 1.6 K

Summary: You're the extreme opposite of Billy Hargrove. The good girl, with perfect grades, the child every mother wants to have. And you don't want to have nothing to do with his kind. Ignoring Billy – and his constant, lingering stare – became an habit. But after you're put together for a special school program, you'll have no choice but to get along with him. And soon enough you'll find out that Billy is so much more than just Hawkins' bad boy.

<-Previous part (06)

Next part (08) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

Don't Go

Billy did threw the keychain away when he got home. It was on the trash can he has in his bedroom, beside the desk. It remained there, among a few school papers for half an hour before he took it again.

It went right back to it's previous place at the nightstand.

Billy is deliberately skipping class. It's the fourth day now, and he doesn't feel like he'll be returning tomorrow.

He leaves everyday at the same time he would for school, and returns after. But he drives to lonely places where he thinks he can run away from his own mind. But it is everywhere he goes.

She is everywhere he goes.

Billy Hargrove did considered going back to his old ways. He even managed to make his way to the phone, ready to call Stacy again. But when he picked up the phone, he caught himself halfway through her number. The number that belongs to the girl he can't stop thinking about. To the girl he can't ruin. Whose life he can't destroy.

She's too good for him, and he knows that. An angel, as stupid as it may sound coming from a asshole like him. Because that's what Billy thinks he is. He'd live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve (Y/N). Her smile, her laughter, her blushing cheeks. Her amazing, sweet scent, that shine in her eyes when she looks at him.

What does that even mean?

Billy is looking at Hawkins, parked on this cliff. (Y/N) would like it, and he wonders if she ever came here. Probably not, since the only people who know this place are those who come here for a hook up. There are a lot of places Billy would like to show her, some of them would take an hour drive through the woods, but it's worth it. He found them soon after getting into town, because he couldn't handle to stay still, so he drove. Pretty much as he's doing now, constantly running away from something that's inside of him.

Sighing, he pushes the car door close. At this time, he should be leaving school, going to her place as always. Today they'd go over the Biology class, if he's not mistaken. (Y/N) loves it, mostly when it's about animals. She loves birds. She didn't had to tell him that, he got it from the way she smiled as the teacher spoke.

These little things, the small details, as silly as they may be, are making him fall harder.

But he can't.

Well, he can.

But not her. Billy knows who he was. Or who he still is. So he knows what people will say about her. They'll call (Y/N) mean names, say she's just another of his sluts. And that's something he can't do, not to her.

But despite knowing this is the right thing to do, it hurts. It hurts that he has to step away from her, for good this time. Billy doesn't know how he'll live from now on without their daily meetings. Without her soft voice, her sweet scent inebriating him every damn time.

He has it bad.

It's only worse because he remembers it clearly, that day at that stupid parlor, how she said they could try. They could wait and see what happens.

That was a chance. A small one, that probably would lead to nothing, but still, a chance. Something he never thought he'd get. Not with (Y/N). But now, he won't even try anymore.

This might be love, he thinks. Putting someone else's well being before his own.

It's a hard thing to acknowledge, but when it's real, there's no way to run from it.

Sighing, Billy starts the car, putting the daisy keychain on the passenger seat. For a moment he sees her image, looking at him and smiling. On the next second, it's gone.

With a weight on his chest, he maneuvers the car, heading back to the hell on Earth he calls home.

“I don't know, Nan. He just... He disappeared. Like smoke in the air and I don't know why.” Sitting shotgun in Nancy's car, you let your heart out. Billy didn't show up at school last week, and not today either. It's been five days already, and he doesn't even answer your calls.

“You know Billy Hargrove, (Y/N). I'm not impressed with this sudden change and neither should you.”

“No, Nan...” Running a hand through your hair, you sigh. “Trust me, Billy... He's not like that. Not with me at least and I know what you'll say. That he lies to get girls but... I've seen how he treats them and so have you. He... He never yelled at me, or called me bad names, he...” You're defending him. The idiot fled with no explanation and still, you're defending him.

“(Y/N), I trust your judgment.” She stops by your place, turning her body towards you. “If what you're saying it true, go after him.”

“I–”

“Look, I get that you don't want to talk about it because you're scared of having feelings for the bad boy, and I'll wait until you're ready, but honestly, I think you know what you feel.”

Looking down at your hands, you blush. “I really like to be around him, Nancy.” Your voice is low and weak, as you admit it to her and to yourself at the same time. “And I miss him.”

“Don't call him, then. Go after him.” She touches your shoulder, smiling. “...Just don't let Steve know Billy is making you sad because you know he'll freak out.”

“God, no!” Giggling, you reach for your bag on the backseat. Steve looks out for you, even now, and it's good to know he has your back. But you definitely don't need the two guys having a fight over some misunderstanding. “Tell him I'm fine. Because I am. I'll... I'll fix things. And if Billy does want to stay away from me for whatever reason... I'll be alright.”

“Good luck and call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Thank you, Nan.” Giving her a hug, you step out of the car, heading inside. “Mom! I'm home!”

“Hi, darling!” She shouts from upstairs. Taking the chance, you run to the phone, quickly dialing Billy's number. It's not the first time you call, and whenever he picks up, you say ‘hello’ and the call is cut. It breaks your heart every time.

“Who's this?” A female voice answers, slightly pissed.

Relieved, you breathe out. “Hi, Max. It's (Y/N).”

“AKA the reason why the shitface has been locked in his bedroom like a jerk.” She speaks fast, and you furrow your eyebrows and giggle. “I think Billy is in love with you or something.”

“What?” Max says as if it's no big deal, as if she didn't made your heart start beating insanely fast, neck and cheeks heating up. “I-I don't think–”

“Billy never gets upset over a girl so...” Her voice fades, and you hear something in the back, wondering if it's Billy. “He has your keychain, by the way. A daisy flower.”

“Keychain?” You don't remember any keychains, so you just sigh, pacing around. “Max, can you do me a favor? I'm going there so don't let Billy go anywhere. And when I ring the door bell, let him answer it, please.”

“Alright. But don't take too long. Neil will be back around eight.”

“I'm going now. Thanks.” And you hang up, heading to the front door. “Mom, I'm going to get Billy!”

“Alright!” Good thing she doens't ask much questions, God bless her for that.

You try not to drive too fast, and you try to tell yourself this is no big deal. But you don't know what will happen. Preparing yourself for a heartbreak sounds good, so you decide to expect the worse.

So when you're parking on the sidewalk in front of Bill'y house, you know what you'll do. You'll put a finger on his face and ask what the hell he's thinking skipping class like that.

When you reach the front door, you realize you've never been here. Well, Billy did dropped his sister a few times before driving back to your place. And then, you're whole act drops. “Damn it.” Pressing the door bell, you wonder if you'd have enough time to just run back to the car and leave. There's a discussion inside the house, with Billy telling Max to get the door, and she refusing. You would have time to run, but you decide to be brave. So you stand your ground, pressing the bell again.

“Damn you, Maxine.” Billy groans, and on the next second the door is violently pulled open.

You freeze, watching as Billy's face drops. “Hi.” You mutter, looking down at your hands, blushing. You shouldn't be here. This is stupid. Whatever Billy said at Scoops Ahoy, it's over. But still, you want to try. To break through him, even if it means you'll be pushed further away. “C-can we talk?”

There's silence, several seconds of silence. And you curse yourself. Billy would never like you. He's the bad boy Nancy warns you about, that girls like you should avoid. Biting your lip, you feel your throat burning, tears wanting to make their way to your eyes.

“Nevermind, I shouldn't have come.” Pushing the words out, you turn on your heels to leave. But Billy grabs your arm, forcing you to stop. “Let go.” You beg, looking back at him. Your heart is breaking and you don't even know why. You just need to be away from Billy right now, and from all these feelings boiling inside you.

“No, please, just... Don't go.” His grip gets loose, and his hand slides from your forearm to your hand, and he holds it, pulling you inside. “Come in.”

Taking a deep breath, you weakly nod, letting him pull you into the house.

@multific @clockworkballerina @tina1938 @graciehams @moatsnow @all-the-stars-on-your-skin @captain039 @rebelemilu @vivian-likes-frogs @prettyinpunk85

#billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy stranger things fanfiction #billy stranger things imagine #billy stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #imagine stranger things

149 notes · View notes

timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [3]

[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae

genre [per chapter]: suggestive material, smut *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.

word count: i genuinely don't fucking know i think it's at least 4k WHY THE FUCK IS IT GETTING LONG ERJSJSJSJDNAKD

taglist: @from-xero @taeyongandfree @ten-gift @louvyves @sweetutopia @yyyereum @jung-breadshop @sunwoowuvbot @mashedpotittiess

protip: links of BGM are linked~

{this is a work of fiction}

eric swipes his thumb across his bottom lip and drags his index finger over the tip of his nose, tongue still sucking on his teeth as if it hadn't already been a day.

he was sitting on the other side of the tutorial room and you just so happened sat in a spot where he was the first person in your view when you looked up.

stupid hexagonal tables.

the moisture in your mouth suddenly evaporates, leaving your tongue dry like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth.

the lustful blanket over his eyes threaten to rip your mentality apart, and even without him touching you, the heat in your abdomen starts to clench and throb.

the thought crosses your mind, just so you can convince yourself: if eric can associate himself with sex within your primal instincts then the brain that got you here can associate him with a big, fucking, red flag.

you suck in a deep breath and hold it for awhile, eyes plastered to the ipad under your palms. crossing your legs tightly, your jeans hug your hips and waist all too perfectly.

yujeong had smacked one of her baseball friends earlier that day for staring at your legs.

after the likes of wooseok's party and the incident yesterday, you made it an effort not to show up in dresses or skirts anymore. call it ptsd, call it trauma, call it not wanting to get into trouble.

whatever it was, you didn't want eric anywhere near you.

well, despite how good he mad-

"can you stop eye-fucking him from across the room?" yujeong harshly whispers at you, glaring at you from the corner of her eyes.

"what?" throwing your tied-up hair to your other shoulder, you tilt your face to her.

"what do you mean 'what'?" yujeong hisses, nodding to the boy across the room. "y'all are fucking in your heads!"

"yes, broadcast it to the entire class, would you, please?" the sarcasm drips off your tongue with a frown.

"I'm just saying if you want him so bad then just go get a room. fucks' sake, go find a practice room or something."

"i think I'll go with 'or something'."

and in that second, your iPad lights up with a notification from the school email account.

yujeong parts her lips with a retort, but you quickly shush her by pressing a finger to your lips when the professor seemed to glance over at the two of you.

she inhales a deep breath, spotting the notification pop up on her laptop screen too.

to: all students

from: the college union

title: dance union winter getaway

dear students,

every year, more than 200 students apply for the dance union but only 20 are accepted. thus, it is of high regard that the members of the dance union utilise the annual winter getaway to bond.

this year's event will be held at lake white. all students in the dance union with leadership positions are expected to be present and those with valid reasons of absence are required to fill up the form attached to this email.

if you're interested in joining the dance union, please apply in the first week of the new academic year. applications open first week of the semester.

regards,

the student union

staring wide-eyed at the email with your apple pencil trembling in your fingers, you gulp.

fuck.

yujeong's lowly snicker sounds from next to you, and you look to her, only to watch a bright smile stretch across her face.

"what?" she snorts, tears in her eyes. "don't look at me. look at your captain."

your neck snaps to the boy across the room, who's got his phone lifted with the screen displaying the email page. he waves it around a little, raising a brow with a menacing shimmer flashing across his eyes.

your blood begins to boil without reason.

why were you suddenly stuck to him? it's like the planets and stars aligned just so he glue himself to you; so he could ruin your title and rip you apart, inch by inch.

your fists clench around the apple pencil, and you're only snapped out of your inner rage when the professor calls on you.

yujeong leans into the lockers with her books against her chest, mindlessly scrolling through her phone as you go on incessantly about the student union's decision to make it mandatory.

you swing the locker door so hard that it bounces off its limit and nearly comes back down onto your hands, but you stop it before it does.

"how does the fucking winter getaway improve our bonds?" you hurl a textbook into the locker. "it's not like we're gonna sit in a circle and sing hallelujah, right?"

"you went for that getaway last year-"

"yeah, and we did nothing besides getting shitfaced! fuck this stupid winter getaway."

"sis, say that any louder and your 'innocent heartbreaker' image is gonna change into something more like 'brutal heartbreaker'."

"don't fucking call me that," you hurl another book into your locker. "and why does everybody talk like that nowadays? 'say that any louder'? where was that from? a movie? a tiktok?"

"why are you so on edge?" yujeong pushes herself off the metal doors and frowns. "you've been on edge ever since wooseok's party."

"i am always on edge."

"what?" yujeong pulls her lips up into a slight wince as her eyes half into squints. "bullshit. what happened to your little 'innocent heartbr-"

"don't," you lift a finger, shutting your eyes and stopping her. "say another word."

yujeong raises both her brows, smirk plastered to her face as she readjusts her bag. "don't worry."

you look up at her, placing the last item in your locker.

"i don't have to."

"what?"

"so," then that godforsaken voice rings from behind you, and all your physical senses start to shut down one by one.

yujeong sees right past it, smirk turning into something less devious as she puffs her cheeks.

"about the winter getaway."

"i'll leave the two of you at it."

"what? no-"

"bye!"

"yujeong-"

she turns and strides off, short hair lathered around her neck. she waves with a bright grin, leaving you to back face the vicious heartbreaker.

you remain rooted to the ground, locker door wide open and bag slung around your right shoulder. eric waits until yujeong disappears down the hall, leaving a few other students within the vicinity to turn and stare at the two infamous dance captains.

eric walks to your side, reaching out and resting his palm on the outer edge of your locker.

"we're in open space," he smiles, gradually pushing the locker door inwards and closing it for you. then he rests his palm against the metal door, sandwiching you again. "there's not much i can do to you."

a few students turn to stare.

"unless you want me to."

"stop it."

"stop what?" he smirks and buckles his arms, forcing you to lay your back flat against the metal surface. "I'm not doing anything."

"then what are you doing now?" you frown and look up at him, knuckles whitening around your bag straps.

"having a conversation."

someone fishes a phone out, and the flashlight flickers.

eric whirls around, keeping his arm anchored to the locker.

"stand down, kid."

"sorry," he fumbles with the phone, and now you'll never know if he actually took a picture.

"anyway-"

"look, i don't know what kind of game you're playing but this isn't healthy for us if we are supposed to work together. especially with the winter getaway coming up."

eric licks his lips and lowers his head, smiling at the sudden cast of professionalism.

"it flatters me that you don't care too much about having fucked outside of wooseok's garage-"

"eric-"

"nor getting fucked out in the practice room-"

"eric-"

"or even the fact that you tied up your hair today-"

"i tie up my hair whenever i fucking want to."

"ooh," eric winces at the snap, his pearly whites glimmering under the lighting. "the 'innocent heartbreaker' is angry!"

"will you shut the fuck up?"

"aw," he coos, leaning into you and breathing down your philtrum. "make me."

your fists finally clench, jaws locked and temples tightened.

"I'll rip off your dick if you touch me again. now, back off."

you press your palms flat into his chest and shove him away, breaking him into light chuckles as he stumbles back.

you pull your bag back onto your shoulder, turning sharply and stomping off.

"hey! we still need to meet up to discuss the plans for lake white!"

the scent of half-painted canvases with acrylic paint washes through your nose when you enter your room.

it's definitely bigger than what a normal room should look like, but it's not your fault that both your parents work under Lee Enterprises, the country's telemarketing company.

the studio corner of your room is in a mess, and you're just halfway done painting the edges of your mirror.

which for specific reasons, you can't really look at it anymore.

the peculiar object you chose to decorate the glass surface hang idly on the corner of the frame, reflecting the afternoon sun spilling into the room.

eric son: so when do we discuss the plans for lake white?

eric son: i don't like to procrastinate

"'discuss the plans for lake white'," mumbling under your breath, you dump your bag into the corner of your room, huffing and resting your hands on your hips. "he's the damn captain, isn't he? he can do it on his own."

notification: acrylic paint to be delivered today

your phone automatically links up with the bluetooth speaker in the room, and you mindlessly tap on the shuffle button before pulling off your shoes.

eric son: okay so I'm thinking groups of four

you pull off your jacket and let the ends of your ponytail brush across your back where the camisole doesn't cover, cool air rushing across the hairs on your skin.

eric son: we can play truth or dare

the bass rumbles through the flooring as you pull off your jeans, throwing on one of those open-holed shorts that no one was ever going to see you in - not even yujeong.

the doorbell rings, yanking you out of your mental rage session over eric son.

acrylic paint.

picking up a cardigan and tying it around your waist, you jog down the stairs and pull open the door without hesitation.

She's just that type of girl

"what. in the world. are you doing here?"

eric tilts his head to the side, his eyes running the length of your body - all the way down to your feet and back up.

"you weren't replying my texts so i thought-" then he raises both hands from his sides, taking a step back and gesturing to your front porch like he owned it. "what better way to have your presence than to go to you?"

"how do you know where i live?" a frown befalls your brows, and your grip tightens on the door handle.

"it's in the school records for student leaders," he offers you a smug shrug, taking a step back to where he was previously standing.

your lips part in an attempt to challenge his explanation, but then he waves it off with a cheeky snicker. "I'm joking. yujeong told me."

"now, why the fuck would she give you my address?"

"hey, captain to captain! plus she knows i won't hurt you."

a scoff runs off your tongue. "you want me to believe that you won't hurt me?"

eric's tongue darts across his lips as he leans on the door frame. "not in your house. oh, i wouldn't dare, princess."

with a huff, you blink away the eye contact first, taking a step back and tugging on the door. "don't fucking call me that."

but his hand flies out and thuds against the wood, keeping the door open. he slowly steps forward, letting himself in.

"then what should i call you?"

"names exist," you step back and grip onto the empty arms of your cardigan around your waist. he closes the door, pulling the chain to lock it.

"then do you prefer y/n or 'innocent heartbreaker'?"

you squint at him, cocking your face at an angle as you back up again.

the answer settles in your head, but you can't say it out loud.

because he's already debunked it.

She's just that type of girl

"fun playlist," eric nods up the stairs, arm stretching out to you and snaking around your waist.

"don't fucking touch me-"

then his other hand circles you as well, his arms around you as he holds you to him, lowering his face into yours. an arching back tries to keep his face off yours, but any more and your spine would've snapped into two.

his nose presses into your cheek as he slots his lips between yours, and the world goes into a muffled silence for a few seconds.

or maybe that was just your playlist moving on.

your nails dig the inside of your clenched palm, fists against his chest as he pulls you up to deepen the kiss, lips moving with yours in some intricate dance of dominance.

on beat with the distant bass coming from your room.

he lets out the first groan, his hands gradually sliding down your back and groping the flesh of your rear that's poking out from under your shorts.

the harsh grip squeezes a whimper out from you, your entire body cringing forward into him and closing the gap between you. with one palm still holding onto your ass, the other comes back up in between your shoulder blades, keeping your chest plastered to his.

eric turns you around, holding you against the wall that leads up to the stairs. your back is flat against the surface, hair stuck to the felt of the wall with your thigh being pulled up over his pelvis.

We should just calm down and fuck some time

then he pulls away and huffs, lips hung wide open and his eyes completely lost in yours. in a low growl, subtly shakes his head as if to disapprove your disobedience against the song lyrics.

"oh, we fucking should."

eric doesn't bother waiting for a response before dipping his nose into your jaw, lips latching onto the tender skin of your neck.

"you coming here-" a jolt of bliss rushes through you when he finds a tender spot, his arms tightening around your waist to keep you close and against the wall. "-was not an invitation-"

the cologne on his clothes starts to intoxicate you like alcohol does to any normal person, the scent of his hair and his clothes wafting and shuffling all around you.

"but you don't hate me being here, do you, princess?" he mumbles into your skin, nipping at the spot behind your lobe. your eyes flutter shut, fists clenching against his shoulder blades.

"come on," he whispers. "we've done it outside and in a practice room, surely you must feel more comfortable in your own bed?"

your eyes widen upon the suggestion, the thought of that cursed object hanging over the corner of your mirror in the room suddenly pulling your soul back into your body.

"no, we can't."

eric pulls away from you, lips reddened from the nipping. they are apart, and his breathing slows as he studies your face.

the panic in your eyes is far too grave for him to miss.

"why not?"

gulp.

"you don't happen to-"

"it's not a vibrator."

eric raises his brows, caging you between his arms as he corners you further, chest on yours and his lips right above your lashes.

"perhaps a-"

"it's not a dildo either."

he pouts in slight disappointment when he can hear the stark honesty in your voice.

his chest rises and lowers under his shirt, listening to your breathing that hitches in your throat every now and then; observing your discipline to keep your eyes away from him.

"you're not gonna tell me what it is?"

glaring at him through the corner of your eye, you shake your head with a resounding 'no'.

he pauses.

then he leans into your ear.

"you being scared is just making me a little more curious, princess."

"curiosity kills the cat."

eric pulls away and slides his arms off the wall. "cats have 9 lives."

the number of sirens that go off in your head spikes, and before you can process his words, he grabs your arm and pulls you onto his shoulder.

"oh my god!" his arm wraps around your lower back, knees against his chest and the world from your eyes upside down as he hoists you up the stairs. "put me down, jesus christ!"

"the more you yell, the more you're gonna regret it, princess," he warns while chuckling to himself. "what could it be, if it's not a dildo or a vibrator?"

then the warmth of his palm reaches up to your shorts, and his fingers dig under the cloth of your underwear.

"fuck, eric-"

all too easily, he pushes a finger into you, your entire body cringing from the sudden intrusion. your eyes blur out just as he makes it to the second floor, and he doesn't need to ask which door he should be heading to.

not when your door has a framed portrait of yourself from last year's concert.

the door creaks open when he pushes the two of you into your room, greeting the sunlight drawn across the floor and his finger still buried inside you.

you heave a sigh when he pulls his finger out and shoves it into his mouth, leaning over your bed to rest you into the cushion.

automatically, his eyes are on high alert, scanning your room. but by the time you've regained your senses and the blood's returned to the rest of your body from your head, he finds it.

resting on the back of your forearms, your breath turns shakey and your eyes twitching from the sight of it dangling off his fingers.

eric turns to look at the mirror, turning the item in his fingers to match the painting of it on the edges.

"so," he returns to you, raising a cocky brow and smirking. "you get high off painting handcuffs on your mirror?"

you tightly shut your eyes as the frown cements into your forehead.

"fuck."

eric scoffs, tongue dragging across his upper lip as he walks towards you and lifts a knee to your bed, the other following.

"this really makes me question how you even got your reputation," eric jingles it from his fingers, his free hand reaching down to draw circles on your right ankle.

"it's just acrylic paint. i paint something new every month-"

"and so your choice for november was... handcuffs?" he wraps his hot fingers around your ankle and yanks you downwards, your crotch nearly meeting his knees.

"it's not my fault you decided to play this game the month i decided to get something remotely inappropriate."

"'remotely inappropriate'," eric repeats, smiling as he lowers himself. the handcuff still within his right hand, his left draws trails up your right leg, playing with the rim of your shorts where they were already riled up enough to expose a bit of your underwear. "so, tell me princess. why did you choose this-"

he holds it up and jingles it over your nose. "to paint?"

"surely it's not because it's pretty."

"or maybe you think it'll look pretty around your wrists?"

eric reaches for your hands and you struggle upon instinct, he pins your dominant hand down first and clips the first cuff around your wrist.

"eric-"

he finds your free hand and connects both your wrists, clipping the other cuff despite your struggling.

eric sucks a deep breath, then parts his lips to exhale. pushing himself off you, he pulls your shorts off first, eyes trailing across every inch of your body with your wrists cuffed together.

the thoughts wash through you involuntarily.

the wooden planks. the dress. the torn underwear.

the mirror. the fogging. the skirt.

the tears collect in the corners of your eyes even before he can completely get it off your ankles.

then he pulls your legs apart for him to lock them in place with his own thighs, crouching over your body like a lion devouring his prey.

he pushes your arms up and above your head, making it difficult for you to bring them back down with your wrists bound together.

his breath is hot on your chest where he first dips his nose into, tongue swiping across the skin of your heaving ribs. hands coming up your waist and pushing them up your torso, it exposes your ribcage and bra.

inch by inch, he breaths down the length of your torso, from your chest and over to your stomach with your camisole rolled up messily over your bra.

upon reaching the rim of your underwear (and heaving stomach as you pant and huff in a bid to calm your nerves), he stops and looks up at you.

"thank god you rejected wooseok."

then both his hands come down to your chest to rip apart your camisole, pulling it out from under you before he unbuckles your bra.

you swallow the first whimper already on the tip of your tongue, but your stomach plunges and your back arches violently when he takes the tip of your breast between his lips.

left hand coming round to grip your other, his right travels down to play with your sensitivity, forcing your body into subtle jolts with the overwhelming sensation.

he tugs on your tip, grazing it between his teeth before releasing it and latching his lips onto the tender flesh in a bid to make his mark.

your brows finally furrow into a frown of bliss, jaw hung agape though struggling to contain the lewd noises prancing about in the back of your throat.

he rolls the other tip between his index finger and thumb, sucking and kissing the reddening flesh of your chest.

and down below, he's pushed your underwear aside, thumb abusing your sensitivity and buckling your hips upwards.

he provides you one sharp bite on your tip, earning a strained hiss from between your teeth. it feeds his pride, for he removes himself off you completely and stares down at you, admiring the painting he's made on your chest.

hickeys.

grip marks.

and the wet patch on your underwear between your legs.

he turns and shifts off the bed, leaving you to catch your breath and cross your legs over one another.

the clacking about in your studio corner drives the tears into your eyes, listening to the lid of the box where you keep your paint come off.

you shut your eyes, resigning to fate.

for your body is in burning need and the discipline to go against his word has betrayed you.

you hear his belt come undone, the weight of his clothes hitting the carpeted ground before the mattress around your legs sink again.

"oh... princess~" he sings, coaxing you out of your mental begging that this was just a nightmare.

a corner drags across your stomach, and your eyes fly open to see his fingers wrapped around a bottle of acrylic paint, completely oblivious to him pulling your underwear off your legs.

black.

the only color that was still relatively abundant.

then the sight of his nudity drives you up a wall inside your head; better yet, driving your resignation up against your own skull.

the lines of his pelvic bone leading down to his manhood all for your eyes to feast on, and even if you wanted to look away, you couldn't.

fuck.

"listen to me very carefully, princess..." he shakes the bottle, then proceeds to unscrew the cap. "I'm sure you don't want any of these on your bed, right?"

chills run through your body when he tilts the bottle over, squeezing the paint onto his palms.

"so," he blinks back to you, eyes wide and cautious. "my advice?"

and with that, he carefully caps the bottle, effortlessly tossing it over his shoulder and back into the box.

he presses his palms together, spreading the paint across his skin.

"don't move too much."

with a wide grin, he smudges the paint into your thighs and up your stomach, sliding the paint all the way to your breasts where he offers a harsh grip.

he doesn't give you a chance to respond to that before he slides himself into you, your neediness allowing him entrance far too easily.

by now, your body was somewhat conditioned to recognise his size, but the idea of him buried deep inside you and his groaning coating the room makes you a little more feral; a little more insane.

the whimper that runs off your tongue is mercilessly lapped up by him when he leans over to kiss you, tongue shoved into your mouth in a bid to shut you up.

he rolls his hips back and forth, unwilling to stop and definitely unwilling to give you any kind of mercy when it comes to making you lose your grip on reality.

he pulls away and resumes an upright position, abs flexed and his palms still gripping onto your chest like his life depended on it.

but eric seems to be a little on edge himself, for this was his first time seeing all of you under him, instead of your humility covered by a dress or a skirt and worrying about being caught in school.

no.

now, he can feast his eyes on you like the predator he is.

not only does he decide to leave his own marks, but marks that you gave him access to.

his handprints are black on your skin and the entire bed is jerking along with every thrust he's offering you.

you finally let out a strained cry, tears collecting in your eyes with the bliss rushing through you over and over again like a broken record. eric's breath turns shaky, and his grip on you begins to loosen when his thighs start to convulse.

by some miracle, the last thrust hits your climax and he pulls out almost immediately after to coat the paint on your stomach with himself.

cream on black.

eric huffs arrogantly, taking deep breaths to retain his breathing as he releases you, stepping back to take in the sight of you in your own bed, ruined by him.

"you definitely look pretty in cuffs."

#nevertheless: wishful thinking #eric smut #the boyz smut #tbz smut #eric sohn smut #eric scenarios #eric imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #eric x reader #eric sohn x reader #the boyz x reader #this was too filthy

218 notes · View notes

alottanothing · 3 years

Text

Kismet

Summary: Evie prepares a meal for the stranger who helped her and finds herself more than a little smitten.

Previous Part: Hope

Word Count: 5707

Warnings: Language

Tag List: @ramilicious, @txmel, @edteche2, @gloriousdarkangelsworld, @diasimar, @xmxisxforxmaybe (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: Okay, I almost didn't get this up today because I was up most of the night sewing kilts for Highland Weekend at the Ohio Renfiare. BUT I stayed awake and did my final read-through, so this should be mostly okay. I skipped a couple steps in my editing to get this up on time but I think, for the most part, it's okay. If you see a grammatical booboo, just ignore it, I'll get in here sometime this week with my other two editing steps and find it, then repost this. Capisce? Okay, cool...now. I hope you enjoy it, I also hope my trying to phonetically write Mer's accent doesn't get too annoying. I know you really shouldn't write accents, but I think it helps add to the characters. And I do try to keep it to a minimum so it doesn't get annoying. Thanks for the love the first part received last month! I know waiting so long between updates is a bit sad after weekly updates with LtR. But life is busy right now and once a month is all can guarantee.

Jonny did not know how to keep a house.

In fact, Jonny did not know how to do much more than drink, argue, and get into fights. He was nothing but a thorn in Evie's side—never mind how much she needed him for a place to lay her head. A necessary thorn was still a thorn. Given the opportunity, she would rip it out as soon as she could and dress the wound promptly so she was finally able to heal better. She stayed only because she had no other choice. And every time Jonny raised his voice or stumbled in reeking of alcohol and red-faced, Evie could hear her best friend's warning in her head. Cynthia had begged her not to go with him, but she hadn't listened.

Oh, how she wished she had.

Luckily, Jonny wasn't the kind of man who liked to stay home which eased the ache of the ever-present thorn in her side. Whatever money he did have, he spent out on the town—the town being New Orleans. Like Evie, Jonny had been born and raised in the Big Apple, the noise and the chaos was part of him. As such, he hadn't taken to the quiet suburban life Bridge City offered as well as Evie. She liked the quiet, easy flow of the sleepy town. Her housemate loathed his new home. He thrived in disarray, thus, he found a group of like-minded young men to run amok with in the neighboring metropolis every chance he got.

If Jonny had been any sort of amicable company, the notion of him leaving most every night to wreak havoc several miles away would have been upsetting. Thankfully, his penchant for city life meant a good portion of Evie's days were spent out from under Jonny's tyranny. The hours he was gone were blissful and calm, and she relished in them. Whether she was creating art or tending to chores around the old house, Evie didn't care as long as Jonny wasn't there—never mind how lonely the routine often was.

Evie had never gotten the chance to meet Jonny's maternal grandmother, though she suspected she would have liked to. Unlike her grandson, she seemed like any other sweet elderly woman judging by the furnishings she'd left behind. There were dozens of lace doilies, and table cloths with soft patterns, decretive china even, but it was the plethora of photos the old woman kept that told Evie she'd carried a kindly heart. All of them were kept in pristine albums or intricate frames; they were the only barbles that seemed to have been cleaned or dusted with any regularity which spoke of how much she must have treasured them. Evie loved those tiny trinkets and black and white memories. It didn't matter that they were not her legacy of family heirlooms to keep, she adored them anyway.

She couldn't count the number of times she'd replaced a broken frame that had fallen victim to Jonny's drunken belligerence or scrubbed tirelessly at a stain he'd left on the patterned tablecloths. It proved to be a hefty undertaking, but dwelling in the fantasies of someone else's history let her forget the grief of her own. She was willing to sacrifice a little elbow grease if it allowed her mind to roam away from the shadow that never really seemed to vanish.

For all the effort Evie put in on the interior, the cottage held little in the way of curb appeal. The porch was sunken in the middle, the paint was peeling off in chunks, and the yard was mostly weeds. Worst, however, was the screen door which squeaked so loudly, every dog in the neighborhood howled in protest every time someone crossed the threshold. The outside needed love that Evie simply didn't have the energy to lend. Despite the grit, however, the foundations were sturdy enough that she didn't worry. The cottage proved to be stronger than she looked—a feat Evie felt she had in common with the old house. And while it was a swell enough place to rest her head, it never truly felt like home. Home was somewhere safe, and as long as Jonny lived under that roof she wasn't safe. Not really.

Fortunately, Jonny wasn't home when Evie returned after her run-in with Mr. Shelton—Mer, she corrected herself with a hint of a giddy smile. Without her housemate there, her evening promised to be hopeful instead of lonely, and she wasted no time in figuring out what to make for dinner.

With her red pumps replaced by her worn-in slippers and her blue checkered apron secured around her waist, she set a pot of water to boil and dialed the phone conveniently located in the kitchen. Every evening she called her sister-in-law to pass the time and keep up on unimportant gossip back home; this time, however, Evie was excited to finally have some good news to share.

"You got the job, didn't you?" Cynthia Clarke asked on the other end, sounding hopeful. "I knew you would."

Evie grinned, still amazed how the sound of Cyn's voice always seemed to settle some of the ever-present anxieties buzzing in her head. She missed her friend so much.

"I didn't even say yes."

"Did you or did you not get the job?" Cynthia pressed.

"I did," Evie confirmed and her smile grew hearing her friend cheer on the other end of the phone.

"See! I knew it." Cynthia said. "My gut feeling is always right."

Evie rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly.

"I think I'm gonna like working there too, so that's good." she mused as she stood at the stove, eyeing the pot of water she’d set to boil.

"That's so great, Ev. I'm so proud of you." Cynthia paused before continuing. "So, what are you up to tonight? Avoiding Jonny?"

"Sorta," Evie nodded even though she knew her friend wouldn't see.

As she continued to watch her cooking pot of water she told Cynthia all about her trouble with Jonny's car and the man who'd been so kind to help her.

"Wait. You invited the stranger over who fixed the car?" Concern was heavy in Cyn's voice, and Evie half expected a lecture to follow.

Despite knowing each other since childhood, Cynthia had taken on the role of her protector since Evie's family was no longer in the picture. The war had claimed Evie's father, and brother—although they'd never found her brother, Jimmy after he disappeared behind enemy lines. Evie never lost hope that Jimmy would one day be found, Cynthia though, was certain her husband was never coming home. After Cyn’s brother, Charlie, died at Normandy Cynthia had difficulty believing anyone was going to make it home. As for Evie's mother, losing a child and her husband to the war was too much for her tender heart and she passed not long after. Ever since, Cynthia was overcome with the need to act as Evie's guardian.

"He wouldn't let me pay him," Evie explained. "So I'm making him dinner—it seemed like the least I could do."

"I suppose…." Cynthia didn't sound convinced, if anything she sounded slightly irritated there was no quick way for her to argue the logic. "Just be careful, Evie. You don't know this guy—he could be another Jonny Doyle. Or worse."

"He's not," Evie said quickly. She wanted nothing more than to tell her friend all about how benevolent Mer was, but she decided against it. Cynthia would only argue that point somehow.

A long pause followed, and Evie wedged the receiver between her ear and shoulder so her hands were free to work on the meal.

"So, what are you cooking?" This time, there was a hint of jest in her friend's tone when she spoke.

The art of cooking was one creative outlet that Evie struggled with, second only to music. In her youth, her mother did all the cooking—it was a passion of her mother's—thus Evie had done little more than watch in wonder as her mother whipped up meal after meal effortlessly. Breakfast she the meal she was probably best at, apple pies too, but anything beyond that Evie required a step by step guide to prepare. And even then she lacked confidence. Thankfully, when she'd fled south, she remembered to grab her mother's cookbook. It was a cumbersome tome with yellowed pages and notes scribbled into the margins: a piece of art itself cultivated over years of collecting recipe after recipe starting the moment her mother stepped off the boat that brought her from Ireland. And like a witch and her spellbook, Evie depended on it.

"Spaghetti with garlic bread," Evie admitted feeling as though the meal lacked a certain something.

Pasta was something she knew held a low degree of difficulty when it came to preparing. Surely she couldn't mess up pasta.

“Mmm, I can almost smell it,” Cynthia said.

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously,” Cyn replied. “You’re mom’s spaghetti recipe was always my favorite.”

A doleful smile pulled at the corners of her lips, thinking back to her mother happily cooking in the kitchen as she sang a Celtic tune. It seemed strange that those moments would never again play out, instead they’d become bittersweet memories Evie could only relive in her mind.

“Mine too,” she murmured, suddenly missing her family.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Evie’s mind roamed the dregs of her grief before blinking back into reality and the hope of something happy to come.

“I need to go, Cyn,” Evie told her friend with a sigh. “I don’t want to burn the garlic bread.”

Cynthia chuckled and said her goodbye, only after making Evie promise to call her in the morning to let her know how everything went.

With her second hand restored after hanging up, Evelyn reached for her mother’s cookbook to give the steps another look over to ensure she had done everything and added every herb and ingredient she was supposed to. She’d followed everything perfectly, even factoring in the little notes scribbled into the margins left there by her mother—those she smiled at fondly and traced the fading ink with her fingers. Everything was as it should be. Even so, without a taste, Evie knew the sauce she had prepared would never be as savory as what her mother made so effortlessly.

“You were the artist in the kitchen, Ma,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll stick to paper and canvas.”

For the smallest of a moment Evie thought she would hear the warmth of her mother’s laugh, and when it never came she sighed again, trying not to dwell on the shadows behind her. What mattered was the light ahead.

Despite her lack of confidence, the meal came together without any severe hiccups. The noodles were not overcooked, the sauce was a complementing mix of savory and sweet (though, as she had guessed after a tiny taste, was not nearly as good as her mother's) and the garlic bread was nicely golden. A small tingle of pride manifested in the form of a surprised, but satisfied, smile as she surveyed the dinner before her.

“Not bad, Ev,” she told herself, knowing her mother would have been delighted.

With the cooking done, Evie threw a glance over her shoulder to the clock mounted on the wall, triggering a surge of anxiety to bubble in her gut. Stranger, perhaps, was the amount of excitement coursing through her veins. It was as though all of her happiness was riding on whether or not she would see Merriell again. None of it made sense; the man was little more than a stranger. The coupling of nerves and delight was not a feeling that put her ill at ease, however. She trusted it. And it was that peculiar sensation that seemed to fuel her movements.

With a few minutes to spare, Evie wandered into the small bathroom to freshen up. She made sure her hair was still pinned the way she liked—up and pretty. Her make-up was holding up nicely despite the heat; all she needed was a fresh layer of lipstick to complete the illusion of a put-together young lady. It wasn't often she wore a dress with heels and a face of cosmetics—she liked to when the opportunity arose, but she was just as comfortable in a pair of old overalls and smudges of charcoal on her face.

Just as she wiggled back into her red pumps—discarding her worn-in house slippers with a couple of calculated kicks—a knock on the door signaled Merriells arrival. Immediately a grin curled onto Evie's lips and her heart began to pound an anxious-excited rhythm. A blush threatened to color her cheeks to give away the torrid muscle beating in her chest—her ever yearning heart already making leaps and bounds for a man she had known for mere hours.

Don't be ridiculous—she warned herself taking in a deep breath to curb the eagerness coursing in her veins. Untying her apron, she tossed it along with her discarded slippers and went to answer the door, taking one last deep breath to steady the fervor in her heart.

Merriell had changed and showered. The sweet bouquet of his shampoo coupled invitingly with the musk of the aftershave he'd chosen, making it difficult for Evie to keep from soaking in the scent he carried. His curls were still somewhat damp—too much moisture in the air to keep the heat from drying them on his way over—though they fought to spring back into their previous fluff. The grease-covered, jeans he'd been wearing had been replaced by a nice pair of tan slacks, and the buttoned shirt he wore was a soft shade of green that made his eyes glitter a deeper emerald as he stood under the glow of the porch light. All Evie could do was stare—utterly beguiled—every rational thought in her head lost to her.

Mer smirked, amused by her ogling. "Hiya."

Evie blinked, coming back to reality, suddenly feeling foolish, and uttered a nervous "hi" before swinging her arm to invite him inside.

"Come in."

Merriell's smile grew as he crossed the threshold, inhaling deeply. "Mm, smells tasty in here."

He gently forced a bottle into her hands as he passed on his way to investigate the savory smells in the kitchen.

"I wasn' sho what ya was makin', but I figured wine usually goes with anythin'."

"Oh, thank you." Evie glanced at the label, unable to read the French words printed there. "You didn't have to bring anything."

"I know," Mer shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets. "I just wanted to make a good impression."

There was something almost boyish when he smiled then—cheeks coloring pink ever-so-slightly—that made him even more of a mystery. One Evie was eager to solve.

"Well," she said placing the bottle on the kitchen table. "It should go perfectly with dinner."

His expression lost a hint of its boyish charm as it grew into a look of delight.

"Make yourself at home," Evie gestured vaguely between the table and the sofa in the living room as she ventured to the cabinet where the stemware was kept.

She placed two crystal glasses on the table along with the wine and retraced her steps to fetch some of the nicer china Jonny's grandmother had kept. Mer watched her, his gaze, gentle and attentive, and a little bit yearning as she methodically sat the table.

"Need help with anythin'?" he asked finally.

"Nope," She replied with a smile. "Everything is almost ready."

The hearty red sauce on the stove was beginning to boil again which told her it was hot enough to serve, and Evie eyed the pot with scrutiny, praying silently her attempt at cooking would go over well.

"I'll pour us a glass then," Mer announced.

"Great, lemme…" Evie spun to fish for the corkscrew in the drawer of misfit utensils, finding it, only to turn to see Merriell holding his lighter against the neck of the dark bottle just below the cork.

Before she could ask, a loud pop sounded, causing her to jump as the cork went flying.

"Oh my goodness!" she laughed, a little surprised, a little impressed. "Where did you learn to do that?"

Mer shrugged, a sly expression on his features, and left her question unanswered.

"How much ya want?" He held the open bottle over the top of her glass, waiting patiently.

"Enough," she said, tossing him a coy smirk without really meaning to.

He bit his lower lip as he smiled, chuckling under his breath when he poured a generous glass of red wine for each of them. She thanked him as he took his seat and grabbed his plate to dish out their dinner.

"How much pasta would you like?"

Mer's face lit with charm and mischief as he turned to face her.

"Enough," he grinned.

The expression on his face was playful, his smirk devious and amused by his own response and his cheekiness settled warmly in Evie's stomach. Not only did she revel in it, but she also played into his whimsy and scooped as much spaghetti into his plate as she could before coupling it with the savory sauce and a slice of bread.

Despite being only strangers, the atmosphere that bloomed that evening was not marked by any hint of bashfulness, instead, it was relaxed and amiable. Warmth that Evie had longed to dwell in again—that unrefutable kindness she'd lost with the passing of her family—flowed uninhibited from the man sitting adjacent to her. His conversation was cautious but still jovial and genuine. It was the first time since running south Evie could recall what life felt like without grief and fear weighing upon her. Merriell was a stranger, but she felt safe with him. Jonny had never made her feel that way.

"So," Evie spoke as she twirled the last bit of pasta with her fork. "What is it you do, Mr. Shelton?"

Mer cast her a look of disapproval—no doubt in retaliation to being addressed so formally—before his features softened back into a neutral, yet somehow still amused side smirk.

"Nothin' too excitin'," he stated vaguely. "The odd jobs are what I like ta do the most—like fixin' ya car this aftah noon."

Without really meaning to, Evie leaned forward, resting her elbow and chin on the table, utterly enchanted by the beautiful stranger at her table.

"You like to get your hands dirty, huh? Fixing things?" she was entirely too intrigued with the thought of what he could do with his hands.

He shrugged, suddenly modest after a foray of playfully arrogant smirks and glances. It made him abruptly twice as charming.

"I've always had a knack for it, I guess." Merriell finished the food on his plate with the help of his remaining garlic bread to mop up the sauce still left on his dish.

"What about you?" he asked after chewing. "Ya workin' anywhere?"

All at once, a proud smile lit up Evie's face. After all the excitement of seeing Merriell again, she'd almost forgotten about her good news.

"Actually, I just got a job today—the general store downtown, Southern Comfort."

Mer's face lit up too, "Birdie's place?"

"Yeah, you know it?" Of course, he knows it! She thought, Bridge City's population was slightly less than the number of people who lived in a single district back home in New York. Everyone knew everyone else.

"Sho do—I was practically raised there…ole Birdie's like a second mothah to me."

"Really?" Evie found a great deal of comfort in that notion. In fact the more she thought on it, the more she realized how similar the old woman and Mer were; they radiated the same magnetism and sincerity.

"Mmhm," he nodded, his eyes focusing elsewhere as the veil of memories danced across the contours of his features. "My mama used ta work there…once upon a time…"

"Does she still work there?"

Merriell's face lost a hit of its levity and he swallowed as though to fight off the onslaught of sudden emotion threatening to cast a shadow onto his expression.

"No…" he said softly. "She—uh—she died, about a year ago."

Shit!

Abruptly, sick knots twisted into Evie's stomach, feeling callous, but understanding of the quiet misery he hid under layers of charm and arrogance.

"Merriell, I'm…I'm sorry—I didn't mean…"

He met her eyes and cast her a quick smile—doleful, but enough to ease the awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"It's okay," he reassured her, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a good gulp before changing the subject. "Birdie's great—you'll enjoy workin' for her."

"I hope so…" Evie said softly, still too embarrassed to meet Mer's glance longer than a second or two.

For the first time all night the atmosphere they shared felt cumbersome—perhaps more melancholy—than she'd wanted it to get. Evie sat, worrying her bottom lip, her fingers toying with a loose thread in the table cloth as she stole quick glances through her lashes in Mer's direction.

He was nursing the alcohol in his glass with the same sadness she'd caught plaguing him as he sat at the bar hours ago. And while Evie was eager to know if his grief stemmed only from the loss of his mother, or perhaps more, Merriell was still too much of a stranger to warrant such questions. It didn't matter how easy it was to be near him, she had not earned the right to know his narrative.

A soft sigh broke past her lips as she fought to find a way to properly allay the gloom that was quickly ruining an otherwise wonderful evening. It wasn't until her eyes found their desert sitting on the counter, waiting to save the day, that she perked up.

"Got any room for apple pie?" Evie asked with a hesitant smile. She hoped he wanted to stay long enough to have a slice, though she would not have blamed him for wanting to leave.

Immediately Mer perked up too, the shadows on his features retreating with the promise of something sweet.

"I was countin' on it—seems as how you promised a slice earlier," he said with a boyish grin.

When she stood, he did too, helping clear away their dinner plates, and letting them soak in the sink to be washed later. Evie cut them each a slice of apple pie and the delight on Mer’s face made her smile too seeing him lick his lips as his grin continued to grow. Catching that flash of his tongue was like a bolt of hot lightning striking her without warning; a blush rose so quickly on her cheeks Evie had to look away to keep the blunder a secret. Thankfully, the pie was more than enough to hold Merriell’s attention away from her.

“Mmmm… Almost looks too good to eat,” he said ogling the desert in front of him.

When Evie chanced a look his way, the expression on his face caused her to chuckle, “‘oughta be, I made one for my pa every year for his birthday since I was nine. It’s probably the only thing I have any confidence in making in the kitchen.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Mer quipped as he loaded his fork with as much pie as he could.

The moment he took a bite, his brows creased, and eyes closed as he chewed painfully slow. Those few seconds were like agony. Evie’s heart was pounding in her chest with so much anticipation she feared she might faint as she watched him sample the only thing she could actually make that was worth a damn.

“Fuck me, if that ain’t the best apple pie I’ve evah had the pleasure of tasting.”

A somewhat nervous, but relieved chuckle sounded in the back of Evelyn’s throat as she watched Merriell shovel a larger bite of pie into his mouth.

“Mmm… Yep. God damn delightful.”

“Stop,” Evie said sheepishly, suddenly afraid he was overselling his reaction to keep from hurting her feelings.

“No,” he wiped his mouth and leaned across the table to meet her gaze with a sincere expression that stole away all the doubt writhing in her stomach.

“I mean it. If I wasn’t so full of pasta, I’d eat that whole damn pie right now.”

“Well,” Evie grinned softly, trying not to let her blush color her cheeks too obviously. “Thank you. And you’re welcome to take the rest of it when you go.”

Excitement took form on his face with a smirk that was sweet but roguish all at once—a sort of debonair charm that amplified his magnetism—as if his bright eyes dark curls and razor-sharp jaw did not make him alluring enough already. Again she had to look away knowing the pink in her cheeks would be too strong to combat.

“Imma have ta take ya up on that offah. An’ I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout you every time I cut me a slice.”

That blush was unstoppable; her heart was suddenly so smitten, it felt as though butterflies were fluttering merrily in her stomach. She felt weightless with warmth and hope swelling in her bosom, fearing any slight breeze would carry her off. It was ridiculous how at ease Evie felt sitting there eating pie with a complete stranger. The conversation had been easy all night; even when it had delved into less savory topics he still made her feel comfortable. Evelyn had forgotten what it was like to be in the company of a man who wasn’t easy to anger, who was genuine and kind and wanted only to live in the moment.

For a time the whimsy of the atmosphere faded as the warmth in her heart ached, suddenly missing her brother James and Cynthia's brother Charlie. Both of them were good men, kind and genuine—like Merriell—but they had been swallowed by the rages of war. Brave young men were lost forever, while a man like Jonny Doyle was still alive How was that fair?

No matter how pleasant her thoughts could be, they always fell back to the grief that plagued her. She sighed, deeply, pushing those intrusive memories back into the depths of her mind so she could find joy once more in the moment with a kind stranger.

When Merrill finished his plate he made a beeline for the sink full of soaking dishes.

“Oh, no,” she said jumping to her feet. “I can do those.”

Merriell, however, shook his head. “Uh-uh, you did the cookin’, I can do the cleanin’.”

When Evie tried to argue, Mer simply shook his head, his grin amused but determined as he kept scrubbing the dirty dishes.

“Let me help at least,” she suggested. “I’ll dry and put them away.”

Before he could protest, she snatched the freshly rinsed dish from his hand and began wiping away the droplets of water clinging to the porcelain surface, throwing him a smug smirk that made him chuckle.

“Alright,“ he smirked.

She watched him for a moment not really paying attention to her task as he scrubbed the old plates clean, overcome with a blissful vision of peaceful domesticity. It made her stomach fill to the brim with whimsy and her heart was fluttering again; had this stranger bewitched her already? Or did what she feel bubbling lightly in her gut like a seltzer stem from an end to her loneliness—even if it was only for a few hours? Evelyn didn’t know. Nevertheless, she was intrigued with a profound feeling and she wanted to dwell in it for as long as she could.

Occasionally as he would hand a freshly washed dish her way, his calloused fingertips would brush against her skin, igniting a spark she didn’t know how to react to. It was more than an amicable tingle racing from the tips of her fingers right to her heart. And each time they touched, Merriell would cast her a gentle smile that held nothing more than his inherent charm and magnetism. She wondered if he felt it too, or if her need for companionship was playing a dirty trick on her.

When the dishes were all back in their usual places—the night drawing to a close—Evelyn realized she was not ready to say farewell to her Beautiful Stranger. She longed to stay up all night just chatting with him, she did not care about what, Evelyn only wanted to stay encompassed a while longer in the blissful warmth he brought into her life. Once he was gone, all she would be able to do was stay up and ponder the significance of those little touches and the sparks they brought.

Thankfully, Merriell lingered on the old rickety porch, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his plate of leftover pie, seeming to stall their inevitable departure.

“Well,” he said with a grin. “Thank you for invitin’ a stranger ovah for dinna.” He paused, glancing at the leftover pie in his hand. “Can’t recall ever having a better plate of pasta, an’ nothin’ evah gonna beat this pie.”

Evie quickly looked at her feet to hide another blush.

“It was the least I could do,” she told him before looking back to meet his eyes. “You have no idea how much of a savior you were this afternoon…”

A glint of concern flashed in his eye, his brows beginning to crease as his unspoken question lingered between them.

She thought about telling him—telling him how Jonny was nothing more than a throne in her side, and how much she cherished Merriells company—but Mer was still a stranger. It wasn’t right to unload so much onto someone she’d only known for a few hours.

Before Mer could offer any reply, the sound of screeching tires stole all their focus as an old wagon pulled along the curb—narrowly missing a collision with the mailbox. The rowdy passengers were laughing and shouting loud enough even before the door opened to let Jonny stumble out. He staggered on drunk feet and screamed a handful of profanities to his buddies in the car which made them all roar with laughter.

It was only after the wagon full of hooligans pulled away that Jonny began to stagger towards the house, and it was exactly then that Evie’s fluttering heart became consumed with panic.

She and Mer watched him cross the yard, unseen, both frozen: Evie in fear and Merriell in confusion. Jonny’s intoxication level inhibited him from taking notice of them until he was at the base of the steps leading onto the porch. Immediately, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Jonny, this is Mr. Merriell Shelton,” Evie said quickly, willing her voice not to shake.

The Doyle’s were not known for their hospitality, nor were they known to trust most people. Especially strangers.

“He helped me this afternoon with a bit of trouble I was having,” she explained vaguely, hoping to thwart any more suspicion. “I made him dinner to say thank you—he’s just about to leave.”

Jonny eyed Merriell, seizing him up as best he could through drunken lenses. Mer stood his ground, eyeing him back with a subtle intensity that never so much as cracked under Jonny’s scrutiny.

Finally, being the better man, Mer held out his hand in a friendly manner, “nice ta meet ya.”

Jonny cast a prolonged glare at Merriell's open hand, his brows furrowed and part of his lip hiked up in a sort of snarl. Instead of returning the kind gesture, Jonny made a show of spitting at his feet before tossing his heavy leer at Evelyn.

"Evie, do not invite any more strangers into my house. I don't care if they are dying." He shoved past them both, purposely bumping Mer's shoulder (most likely in hopes to start something) muttering as he went: "I don't trust any of these filthy southerners."

Shock sent Evie's jaw slack; this time the redness in her cheeks was a symptom of embarrassment instead of infatuation. She should have known Jonny would say something rude and uncouth. Without another thought, she grabbed Mer by his sleeve and pulled him across the lawn until they stood next to his truck parked along the curb.

"I am so sorry about him," she said, crossing her arms and glaring at Jonny's house, ashamed and angry.

Mer shrugged as he placed his partially eaten pie in the passenger seat through the open window before fixing his hands in his front pockets.

"Ya boyfriend's a bit of an asshole."

"He is not my boyfriend," Evie corrected vehemently. "I don't think he knows that though. I'm just staying here until I can figure some things out."

Merriell was quiet a moment, nodding silently. It seemed as though he was taking his time processing the whole situation. There was compassion on his face and behind his eyes, but it was guarded somehow. Evie caught it though and she was grateful when he didn't ask the questions plainly forming in his mind.

"Well," he said finally, his tone light as one corner of his mouth quirked into a grin. "Since he ain't ya othah half, I feel more inclined ta leave ya with this…"

Gently, Merriell caressed her upper arm as he leaned forward to plant a tender kiss on her cheek. He let his lips linger slightly longer than was common for such an act, that all at once wove a new hopefulness into her heart.

"Dinna was swell," he added as he pulled away, his smile somehow more charming than it had been all night. "Hope I see ya again, Evie."

"Me too," she murmured.

Evie watched as he got in his truck to leave, her hand held to the cheek he'd graced with his kiss. And when he drove away, it took everything inside of her to keep from running after him.

#Beautiful Stranger Series #Merriell Shelton x Original Character #Merriell Shelton #Snafu Shelton #HBO War #The Pacific #The Pacific Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fanfiction

29 notes · View notes

liibrii · 3 years

Text

fem!Miya!reader x Suna Rintarou || mostly platonic || part of the Third Miya series

Synopsis: A glimpse into your friendship with Suna during your 1st year at Inarizaki High school.

Warnings: barely proofread, general stupidity, there's a serial killer joke, reader is a lil shit

wc: 1.6k

a/n: naming chapters is hard 😭 as always feedback is greatly appreciated and if you wanna be tagged in future chapters let me know!

Friendship with Suna is one of those where you can't quite remember how or when it started. One week he was just that lanky guy sitting at a desk to the right of you, the next week you walked home together and you told him your brothers' embarrassing childhood stories in exchange for chemistry homework. In a way it's an echo of all your childhood friendships forged on the beach with other kids you only knew for a week but during that week you'd take over the world for them if they asked. But the one week friendship with Suna became two weeks, three weeks, and after the fourth you stopped counting.

Suna Rintarou is a funny guy. Not funny as in telling jokes or spouting quips and smirks. He's funny in a way that even now you can't really tell who he is. He's quiet. But not shy in the slightest. He moved over from Aichi and you cringe at the memory of saying: “Oh so that's why ya talk funny. I thought yer just pretentious,“ when he told you. Your ears catch on fire by just thinking about it. So embarrassing. But he must have pretty low standards for his friends because at the time he didn't really seem bothered by your slip of the tongue. The next day he offered you a chuupet and that was enough to buy your undying loyalty.

Suna's a funny guy. You don't know how he became your friend, you don't know what he sees in you that makes him put up with you. But you're glad to have an inside man on the volleyball team.

Years of living together with the same person makes one develop the ability of sniffing out trouble before they even start to happen. In this case it's four empty pudding packages in the trash bin that make you decide to nope right out of there before Tsumu tries to blame you for their mysterious disappearance. Again.

You put on music and walk aimlessly through the streets, one of those walks where it doesn't matter if you get lost because you have no clue where you're headed anyway. Everyone needs a stroll like that from time to time. Often they lead to situations that would otherwise probably never happen. Like running into a serial killer, but luck is on your side today so the only person you run into is a familiar lanky figure stretching by the side of the road. “Sunarin! Didn't expect to meet ya here!“

He looks up and his blushed sweaty face wears the same expression as ever. In the last months you've learned Suna has two expressions, the deadpan one, and the deadpan one with furrowed brows. “O, Miya. Well, I live nearby.“ Oh right, you did pass the bus station where he exits just a song ago. “Taking a stroll, are you?“

“Samu and Tsumu are having a screamin' match right now so I decided to get myself out of there before they'd drag me into it.“

“Tragic. Where are you headed?“

Your destination is 'who cares' so you join Suna on a walk. It's good he already ran his evening route because you're not in the mood to reenact a wanna be healthy person's only free time activity.

Just a short walk between the apartment buildings by the side of the road you reach a path of cobble stones that leads further between trees.

“What? You didn't know there's a park here?“ Suna smirks and you're surprised his face muscles are even capable of stretching so far.

You shake your head, slightly embarrassed. “No, I really didn't. To be fair this neighbourhood used to be ruled by another clan so we never played around here,“ you quickly add as if children clan wars from years ago are a better excuse than simply being unfamiliar with this part of the town.

Suna doesn't comment but the corners of his mouth keep tugging up even after you walk through the park. Or maybe that's because you tripped over nothing while watching a cat cross your path.

“We have a cat back home,“ he tells you and shows you the picture of his little sister with a big fluffy orange cat on her lap.

“So cute,“ you coo, “looks just like ya.“

“Oh yeah, lots of people say she looks just like me. I think I'm more handsome though.“

“No, I meant the cat.“

This time you're the one prepared to jump away form a well aimed kick but Suna only gives you a disappointed glare. “I thought you were the nice Miya.“

You sympathetically pat his shoulder. “Sorry. My sincere condolences. Shall I send some flowers for the funeral of yer last brain cell? Samu always wanted a cat but dad wouldn't let him.“

“Really? Why not?“

“Oh he made the mistake of asking just after the mango incident.“

“The-“

“Only Miyas are allowed to know about it,“ you say, snickering at Suna's furrowed brows. You know curiosity is going to eat at him for weeks to come. Maybe you should come up with a cover story, just in case. “Do ya miss yer friends? Ones from Aichi I mean?“

Suna thinks for a moment, maybe still trying to figure out what a mango incident could possibly be. “Sometimes,“ he says after a while and a poke to his side, “but I met a lot of new people at the dorms. Inarizaki isn't that bad either. There's you and Ginjima, and your brothers sometimes, and ehm,“ he mumbles as he tries to remember whom else he could call a friend.

“If Tsumu or Samu bring this topic up just let them know ya were my friend first,“ you pout. That's the problem with having had siblings in the same class for the entire grade and middle school; all your friends were also their friends. “It can't be easy,“ you say, half trying to make him feel better, and half just changing the topic that's starting to turn his ears red, “movin' over here I mean. Ya really left all ya knew behind for volleyball. That's pretty admirable. Ya just might be as crazy as Samu and Tsumu.“

“Please don't compare me to your brothers,“ says Suna.

“That bad, eh? So what's it like? Livin' in a dorm?“

“Oh. Well. We're four in a room-“

“Yikes. And I thought havin' two other people in your room is a lot.“

Suna laughs. Oh, so he can do that. It suits him, you decide after a moment. “Now take into account that two of those keep leaving dirty socks around.“

“Oh I know what that's like,“ you nod, all too familiar with dirty socks under table, under bed and other parts of bed you'd rather not think about.

“I doubt you'd get in trouble for punching them though.“

“Oh I would.“ You look him over. “Ya don't really look like a punchin' type to me. More a very petty guy. Soy sauce in mornin' tea kind of guy.“

“You're giving me ideas.“

“Thanks, that will be one kit-kat. Or none if ya put some in Samu's water bottle.“

“All in all dorm isn't that bad,“ Suna tells you once you both stop laughing over the prospect of putting soy sauce into Osamu's drink. “Wish I could sleep a bit longer in the morning but what can you do? And I miss mom's cooking. We cook ourselves and the food is good. Usually. It's just not the same, you know? Want a chuupet?“

“Ya brought a chuupet to an evenin' run?“

You still gladly take the fruit stick. It's a rare occasion in which it isn't in danger of being snatched away by one of your co-spawns. You don't comment but the next day a neatly wrapped bento box waits on Suna's table.

Suna doesn't quite remember when you became friends. One day you were a girl from his class that looked suspiciously similar to those loud Twins on the volleyball team (the moment he realised your last name is in fact Miya too he felt incredibly stupid for not noticing sooner), the next day you're hanging with him during breaks and sending him messages along the lines of 'I'll buy you as many chuupets as ya want if ya tell me what happened at practice yesterday, I need to let Tsumu know who's the boss' that usually arrive in the middle of the night. Even if they wake him up your name popping on his screen still makes him smile.

Really it takes impossibly long for Suna to realise he doesn't enjoy being in your presence only because being friends with you is as easy as getting the ball around a block or because you're the one Miya to voluntarily share your food with him.

The moment the cogs finally fell in their place and began to spin, making the little 'there might be something more' thought appear is one he'll remember for the rest of his life, and will quite probably haunt his nightmares too.

That's the thing about emotions (truly the revelations of that day are almost too much for his volleyball focused teenage brain), they take over neurones in charge of sending information around the brain, bribing the ones running toward mouth to run faster than the ones heading towards the comprehension centre, and then you find yourself in awkward situations such as saying your name out loud in the packed locker room followed by: “She's really funny and amazing. I like her a lot.“

But the situation being awkward is the least of Suna's problems as two pairs of almost identical brown eyes stare him down.

Oh, shit.

tag list: @espressons @trashy-simp @nachotrash @megumiisee @foxxtrot-116 @e-wwis

#suna rinataro x reader #suna x reader #suna x y/n #suna rintarou #hqcorenet #hq #haikyuu fanfic #inarizaki x reader #inarizaki x y/n #third miya #libri scribbles

122 notes · View notes

serenityseventeen · 3 years

Text

Love & Letter: To The Thirteen Boys I've Loved Before

The Second Letter

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

To: Yoon Jeonghan

From: Y/N

Dear Jeonghan,

I hope everything's going well with you, wherever you are. I'm writing you a letter without knowing where you are so even if I did ever decide to send this letter, I wouldn't know where to mail it.

Are you doing well? Why don't you call me? Contact me somehow? Why don't you say something to me? Don't you have anything you want to say to me? Oh right, you don't have my number. I don't know any of your social media accounts and you don't know any of mine. I can search on Facebook for you, through a thousand different “Yoon Jeonghan” profiles, but what would be the point?

Actually, I'm angry with you. I'm really angry and I'm a bit heartbroken too because you just took my heart and left.

Why didn't you tell me beforehand?

I waited for you to return. I spent the rest of my freshman year waiting and I even waited through my summer break, hoping that maybe you'd come back or send a letter. School starts in a month and you still aren't here. I don't know what I feel toward you anymore because you're gone. Do I love you since I'm angry at you like this?

From the first day we met, I could tell we didn't match. I don't even know why you pursued me. You joined the basketball team and whenever you had games, you wanted me to come to watch. I didn't know why so I refused the first few games.

We had many classes together, you know that. Did you use the advantage of being in the same classes as me to try to get to know me? What were your intentions when you asked me if I had lunch? Why did you always ask my friends if I was eating well?

I have so many questions I'm dying to ask now that you're gone. One day you were laughing, joking with me while I watched you practice basketball and the next day you suddenly disappeared. One day of absence turned into months, then half a year. I didn't want to ask but I was dying to know.

Then, the answer finally came.

You moved?

Why didn't you tell me anything?

I thought we were developing something special, was that only me? I thought that you liked me, that's why you did so many things to me, making my heart race and pound. Am I wrong?

If I am wrong, why did you do it?

Maybe I'm completely getting the wrong idea and the sudden move wasn't your fault. I bet that it wasn't your fault. I'm just angry that you didn't inform me. Not everyone moves houses in one day, it takes a lot of planning, doesn't it?

Now I'm just left here, confused.

Now I'm just left here, reminiscing about my second love that disappeared. I'm still remembering the first day we met when you bumped into me at the stairs and held me to keep me from falling backward.

Jeonghan, just, where did you go?

I know this message will never reach you anyway, anyhow, so I'll tell you this much.

Because of you, I changed. Hanging out around a mischievous guy like you made me pick up your habits. Before I knew it, I was playing small pranks on my dad and enjoying it, just like when you and I teamed up to prank the gym teacher into thinking that he had sat on a freshly painted bench. I can still remember how long I laughed because of it.

I still have the pen that you forgot when you were here to study with me. My father constantly asks me where you are and I always reply that I don't know because I don't know.

You came by twice every week for three months because you wanted me to tutor you. I don't know if I became a sheep to you but even though I knew you were gifted intelligent, I tutored you anyway. Jeonghan, you were one of those people who didn't need to study to ace a test. Even your methods of trickery are intelligent.

So as I reminisce, I also wonder why you would do something like that if you didn't like me. You were the one who told me that all men act like this, wanting to be around someone, making up excuses to stay close, and doing things they won't normally do if they like someone. Was that all a trick, Jeonghan?

Not only did you study with me but you studied the times that my dad was gone and came by when he wasn't here. You were respectful toward my dad and kind too, so I wondered how you could have such a naughty nature but at the same time be so caring.

It was one of those days when my dad went to work that you came over. Look, I was so confused that's why I kept stuttering. I knew that you weren't supposed to be at my house at that time of night so we stayed on the porch, gazing at the fallen sky. What were you thinking about? You stared for a long time and didn't say a word. It was the middle of winter too and you came by with your hands tucked in your puffy black jacket with your nose cutely red. You remember this night, don't you? If you don't, I'd go even more nuts than I did.

Why did you kiss me that night?

I mean, we weren't even talking, just gazing at the sky where stars were barely visible. Then all of a sudden, you said, “Look at me.”

I turned to you and then all of a sudden, you kissed me. I honestly didn't expect to get a kiss this early in my life and for it to be from you, the second love who disappeared, I can't be any more disappointed.

Jeonghan, the thief.

Your lips were cold at first but then they grew warm. I'm also sorry if I didn't know how to kiss. I just went with the flow and followed the way your thin lips moved against mine. Your hand also touched my neck as you kissed me, I could still feel the warmth of it lingering on my skin.

After you left that night after kissing me quietly, making my heart burn in the cold night, you stroked my hair. I ran inside my room and rolled on my bed, wanting to scream on my bedsheets because my lips have finally been pressed against another man. A boy that I liked at that.

How about you?

Do you think about that night at all?

It was about two days before you moved away.

Strangely, the next days, you continued to talk to me as if you didn't kiss me the days before. I was confused but since I was naive, I just believed that's how it went for everybody.

Also, because of that kiss, I began to notice your gaze. Maybe I could have noticed something in those two days before your departure. I just remember seeing you gazing at me with different eyes. I want to believe that you had fallen for me, but because of you, I'm being delusional like this.

The only way to know is when you finally decide to speak it true somewhere and it reaches me.

In this letter to you, I just can't help expressing the emotions I'm feeling. I have nowhere else to rant and I need you to know about my feelings though you'll never receive this letter.

Gosh, writing this letter makes me remember the weekend that you took me biking on a couple bicycle. Why did you ask me to go with you when you were leaving the next day? It's not like you at all. Knowing you for those short six months, you would have just told me with a pitiful face, “I'm going to move.”

Instead, you kissed me and decided to take me biking. I can still remember that grin on your face when you came to my house and said, “Hop on, Y/N.”

The wind that hit my face that day was amazing and my heart was racing just to have my hands around your waist.

Because of you, I became rebellious for the first time. I never disobeyed my father. He told me to go buy groceries that day and I went on a bike ride with you, enjoying the chilly winter breeze and ditching groceries. When we arrived at the basketball court, I watched and played a bit of basketball with you. Do you know what that means, Jeonghan?

Were you aware this whole time of my feelings? I know you can read other people's expressions well.

I can't understand you, Jeonghan. I don't think I ever will unless you come back and tell me.

I won't believe what any of your friends say even if it's the only source I have. ‘You moved away because a different high school was giving you bigger opportunities’, how am I supposed to believe that? In the middle of the school year?

Now, all I can do is sigh.

I won't wait for you anymore. That's why I'm just going to leave it. I loved you. Now, you're just one of the boys I've loved. I'm not going to spend the rest of my summer waiting to find a needle in a haystack.

I'll remember how I loved you. I'll remember how you changed me. I'll remember how loving you changed me.

I'll wonder sometimes about what we could have been if you didn't leave. If you didn't leave, I think I would have still been in love with you. Now, I'm pretty sure I would still be in love with you, at least for a little longer.

Please, send me a letter.

I know the chances are low.

I'm still angry at you for not telling me. If you did like me and think you did it for our own good, you're wrong. At least I wouldn't have had to wait and worry for the weeks that you disappeared that your life's clock stopped ticking. If you did tell me beforehand, I would have known that you'd be fine and that you were just moving away.

Did you have no faith in us?

Or did you really find a better opportunity in a better high school somewhere far away?

I'm still angry.

Is this what you call ‘the one that got away’?

Anyway, I don't love you now, but if you come back, I might again. I can't make up my mind.

I miss you, Jeonghan.

Sincerely,

Y/N

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

6/18/21 - 9:51 pm

a/n: SEVENTEEN back on Instagram?? Seungcheol, Minghao, Vernon, Joshua, and Seungkwan posted today/yesterday. I didn't even notice WOOZI changed his profile picture. Also, I find Seungkwan and Seungcheol so funny...

SC: you are my escape

SK: you are my s.coups

But yay? Seventeen is back on Instagram!

48 notes · View notes

raendown · 3 years

Text

I return from the dead with a fic that isn't even for the Naruto fandom and I don't really have an explanation for myself.

Pairing: SamBucky Word count: 2317 Fandom: MCU Summary: Visiting Steve was always strange now that the guy was old and retired. Still, of all the things Sam expected out of today, witnessing a prime example of gay panic from the co-worker that's been mysteriously avoiding him was not one of them.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info under the header!

Honestly, the fact that Steve's house smelled like prunes was probably one of the funniest things that Sam had ever heard in his life. More than anything he would have loved to go back in time, to the days of reading about glorified heroes in history textbooks, and tell his fifteen year old self that Captain America, Steve Rogers, retired in a house that smelled like prunes. God, his best friend just had to throw himself in to being old the way he threw himself in to everything else.

"Is there a special reason for you visiting?" Steve's voice was more tremulous these days, less steady but no less warm. Just hearing him again after the shameful amount of weeks it had been since his last visit made Sam grin.

"Nah, just thought I'd pop in and see if you'd expired yet. Your birthday's coming up. Gonna be, what, three hundred? A thousand?"

Steve narrowed his eyes but there was fondness in them so it wasn't very scary even if he could probably still tackle Sam across the room if he wanted to. At this point it would hurt him too but he could do it. "You, young man, are-"

He looked chagrined at himself when Sam cut him off with a laugh.

"You shitting me? Did you really just call me young man? See if I ever let you live that down."

His friend grumbled but accepted the teasing as his due. That was just what he got for going back in time and doubling down on being so much older than his own best friends.

Since it had indeed been a little too long after they last saw each other there was quite a bit of catching up for them to do. Over cool glasses of sweet tea and a plate of cookies the two of them spent a pleasant couple of hours shooting the shit until Sam could almost forget the years that stretched between them now. It was jarring, sometimes, looking away from those clear blue eyes to realize all over again just how many wrinkles they were set in. Sometimes he hated it. Other times he could only smile to know that at least one of their ragtag bunch had found the peace they were looking for.

Eventually all that sweet tea went right to his bladder and Sam excused himself to use the bathroom. When he returned he took in the sight of his friend all snug under one of the blankets his late wife had knit and sighed, feeling maudlin suddenly for no good reason.

"I should probably get out of your hair," he said. "Let you get in your afternoon nap or whatever. No, stay there man, I'll clean up." His smile was easy as he snagged the dishes from their grazing and hauled it all over to the kitchen.

"You sure?" Steve's voice floated after him. "Nothing else you want to get off your chest?"

"Huh?"

Sam frowned at the cups he'd just placed in the sink, running back through his mind. They'd talked about pretty much everything he could think of.

"You didn't mention Buck once, you know. I thought the two of you were friends now."

"Ah. Yeah. So did I." The corners of his mouth twisted with a little bitterness, a little confusion. After everything they'd been through and the number of times Bucky had accepted his invitations down to Delacroix he'd thought they were well past the point of calling themselves friends. Maybe he himself felt something a little more than that but he knew better than to push.

That was probably why Bucky's sudden radio silence hurt so much though.

"Trouble in paradise?" Steve called from the other room and Sam snorted.

“Shit, I don’t know. One minute we’re fine and the next he just up and disappears on me again. I may or may not have checked a bunch of obituaries for your name just in case because I have no idea what I might have done to piss him off.” Sam pursed his lips. He’s already gone over all this with Sarah a half dozen times and in all the recounts he’d done of their last couple missions he still couldn’t find any particularly bad moment between him and his best friend. Unfortunately the sweet tea he was glaring at didn’t have any answers either so he snatched the pitcher up and moved to put it in the fridge.

“Have you tried, oh I don’t know, asking him what’s wrong?”

“You think I didn’t try that?”

Steve’s hum drifted down the hallway with a distinct note of sass. “Neither one of you is very famous for your communication.”

“Excuse you, I was a counselor. A certified veteran’s counselor. Communicating with people was literally my job until your overly buff ass came running around all ‘on your left’ and ‘everyone I know is trying to kill me’.” Sam huffed as he snapped the fridge closed. “I damn well tried to talk to him but he’s not answering my texts or my calls. Short of breaking in to his apartment I don’t really know what else you want me to do.”

Without any other excuses to keep him in the kitchen Sam heaved a sigh, knowing he couldn’t dawdle any longer. He could only get to the door by going though the living room so his choices were either run away out the back, which he would never ever hear the end of, or go back in to the living room and face Steve with his stupidly wise and knowing eyes. Seriously, let a guy live to almost two hundred and suddenly he thought he knew everything. Annoying was what it was.

He was only halfway down the hall when he heard the front door open. Sam very carefully swallowed down the jibe he’d just been about to deliver and hoped that meant what he thought it meant. Maybe Steve had finally gone vague after all and bailed in the middle of their conversation; he’d rather chase a crazy old coot down the street than talk about his feelings regarding one James Buchanan Barnes. Actually if he looked at it from the right angle then chasing an old coot down the street was pretty much his job description whenever he and his partner teamed up on missions. Sam was just glad they hadn’t been called in to one since this whole silent treatment had started because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know whether or not Bucky would still have his back even when the guy was mad at him over reasons unknown.

Two more steps and Sam froze in his tracks, eyes wide with disbelief. Bucky’s shoulders were hunched in to himself with something bridling on panic as he fit himself through the front door and kicked it shut behind himself, eyes wild and fixed on the ground between his feet, nervous energy pouring out of him in a way Sam hadn’t seen before. From his spot on the couch Steve watched his childhood friend let himself in with serene indifference.

“Didn’t know you’d be over today,” was all he said. Then he smiled benignly when Bucky let out a soft whine.

“Help,” Bucky pleaded. “I’m dying.”

Then Bucky slid down to his knees and face planted in the carpet, arms and legs splaying out wide. Steve hummed.

“You know,” he murmured, “no one ever believes me when I tell them you’re this dramatic.”

“Steve! I’m having a crisis!”

“I tell everyone you’re a drama queen and they just shake their heads at me.”

“This is important! You have to kill me, Steve. Or I’m gonna just- just-!” Bucky’s voice petered out with another extended whine muffled by the carpet that probably didn’t smell any better from that close up.

Crossing one leg over the other, Steve folded his hands in his lap with a great lack of concern for the ridiculous scene playing out before him. Sam remained frozen in the hallway, wondering if Bucky even realized he was there, but he got an answer to that almost faster than if he’d bothered to ask himself.

“What’s wrong, pal?”

“It’s Sam!” Bucky cried. His arms lifted up like wings to flail briefly before falling back to the floor in a boneless sprawl. “Please just crush my head or something. I can’t take this.”

“Ah, yes, I hear you’ve been avoiding him.”

Whatever kind of noise Bucky was trying to make, it came out sounding more like he was choking on carpet fumes. “Of course I’m avoiding him!”

“Now why on earth would you do that?”

“I want to stick my tongue in the gap between his teeth!” Bucky said, entirely unaware of the sparks that were suddenly running up Sam’s spine in the hallway. “Help me, Steve! I want to press my thumb in the little dimple on his back. He has a dimple on his back! Why!? Steve I want to hold his hand! What the fuck!”

Steve had both eyebrows up near his hairline and the most shit eating grin any human on the planet had ever worn when he turned his head to look at Sam. Frozen with his eyes on the figure currently panicking in to the floor, Sam paid him no attention. He was busy processing. After getting to know Bucky, inviting him to stay in Delacroix time and time again, the dramatics weren’t actually that much of a surprise. Obviously as they grew closer he’d gotten a number of glimpses in to who the real Bucky Barnes was under the grouchy veneer he presented to the world. Watching him starfish on the ground and whine wasn’t too far from what he’d already seen.

Hearing him say anything about his tongue in conjecture with Sam’s teeth, on the other hand, now that was a bit unexpected. More than a bit.

“I think Shuri called this ‘gay panic’ and honestly I’m in agreement,” Bucky went on mindlessly. “If I have to watch him go through one more workout and not grab his ass with both hands then I’m just going to rip both of them off. Who needs hands if I cannot grab Sam Wilson’s ass with them!?”

“You may be slightly exaggerating the situation, I feel,” Steve told him.

Bucky snorted. “I am not. I absolutely am not. Why is he so hot? And nice? I hate that. Except I don’t. Steve why is he so nice to me?”

“That might be a question you should ask him.”

“Oh yeah, sure, I’ve got lots of questions for him! Hey Sam, why are you nice to me? Hey Sam, can I lick your cheekbones? Hey Sam, how big is your cock?”

“Well. Not that I’ve ever thought to ask that myself but, alright. Go on, Sam, how big is it?”

Sam had just enough time to cross his arms over his chest and assume a very casual pose leaning against the wall beside him before Bucky’s head shot up off the carpet. If possible, his eyes were even more wild than before when he fixed them on Steve, full of the deepest betrayal. Then he very slowly dragged them sideways to see the man he’d just been panicking over. Sam gave him a very friendly smile.

“Depends on your frame of reference,” he admitted. “I’d say sizeable.”

“Nnnggggg.”

“Hi Buck.”

“Ggnnn.”

While Steve very poorly disguised a laugh behind one hand, Sam pushed off from the wall and sauntered further in to the living room. Bucky slammed his face back in to the carpet.

“Leave me here to die,” he pleaded in a very small voice. Sam tutted, reaching for the front door, only looking over his shoulder once he was halfway through it.

“Come on, Buck, can’t lick my cheekbones if you don’t get off the floor. It was a nice visit, Steve, but don’t be looking out your front curtains for a bit. I think I’ll let Bucky decide for himself what sizeable means.” He thanked god for the mercy of Steve’s house being situated out here so far from any other homes, surrounded on all sides by enough trees that you couldn’t see it from the road. A gorgeous little island of privacy. Sam was fairly sure he wasn’t the only one grateful for this, judging by the mad scrambling noises he could hear going on behind him.

Bucky’s voice garbled out something that sounded like ‘fuck you, thank you, bye forever’ and then Sam was listening to the slam of the front door barely a second before strong hands were wrapping themselves around his hips. He laughed even as Bucky’s face came in to view.

“Greatest assassin of several generations and you didn't notice my truck in the driveway?” he said.

“I may have been a bit distracted.” That was definitely a pout on Bucky’s lips.

“By being so hot for all of this”-Sam gestured vaguely down his own body-“that you literally ceased being able to function.”

He didn’t expect such easy agreement as the sheepish nod that followed his words. “Pretty much.”

Sam blinked slowly once, twice. For one long moment he considered teasing the man. Then he decided that their time was much better spent doing things they’d both obviously been wanting to do while assuming they would never get the chance.

“I was promised a tongue in my teeth. Are you gonna get to that any time soon or am I gonna sit here and pine some more for something I apparently could have had all along?”

Bucky keened piteously. Then he surged forward to follow through on his own promises and Sam really hoped that Steve had taken his words to heart about the curtains. The man was way too old to be seeing all the ways they were about to defile the side of this truck.

#rae writes #sambucky #winterfalcon #sam #bucky #steve #fanfiction #i'm not even really sorry either

35 notes · View notes

bxllafanficc · 3 years

Text

¡Skate/sing your hearts out! (Yuri Plisetsky x reader)

(part one)

part two part three part four part five. Find the rest on; Masterlist

Summary: After last year's cancellation of Figure Skating Grand Prix, Yuri Plisetsky finds himself unable to bring out his inner skater after a year of doing nothing but enjoy life like a regular teenager. That's when you enter the picture; We Are Voice Grand Awards's currently hottest competitive vocalist come first place two years in a row. Just like the other competitors of Grand Prix, it turns out that Victor and Yuuri faces the same issue. With an arrangement between Victor and Yakov, they agree to travel to Japan and hire you as a mutual coach for Yuri and Yuuri to help bring back the emotion into their performances like before, maybe even more intense than ever. Yuri however, who's never experienced issues with his coaches before, for some reason finds this one particularly difficult to coexist along with in their (reasonably) odd partnership. Warnings: none

*Yuri's POV*

"Remind me once again why we're going to Japan? It's clear you'd never take us there just because you miss Victor and I know by experience that it's not because of his apprentice."

First class flight like usual. The view out the airplane window of the sparkling city at nighttime below them would stun anybody but at this point, Yuri has traveled so many times it's only become regular sights and the lights of the streets are only plain colored spots in a dark void to him these days. One thing he will never feel comfortable with though is staying in the same seat for hours on end until the airplane arrives at its destination. His legs are itching from wanting to move around. He'll just have to jog it off back on the ground like every other trip in the past.

"You'll be spending some time with Yuuri Katsuki and Victor the following weeks to gain your fighting spirit back. You need to get back in touch with your emotions, remember?" Yakov slightly turned his posture towards the Russian skater beside him, folding his newspaper in half and putting it in his lap.

He only nodded with a slight hum. He could see Yakov's reasoning, some parts of it at least. He HAD been lacking in emotional performance ever since the new year began and it was time to get back into the mindset of winning yet another Grand Prix gold medal like last year. No, not last year. Last year's competition was cancelled after a minor pandemic spread through Russia and the nearby regions. In fear of the virus spreading, all competitions cancelled and larger crowded areas were forbidden to take place. Therefore Yuri's only been able to practice by himself and keeping himself fit for a possible competition next year. But a year of doing nothing can really change your spirit and afraid to admitting it to his coach, he's been missing several opportunities to hit the rink and stayed home watching anime or scrolled through social media instead.

But one thing he doesn't get is how Victor and Yuuri are gonna make him get his mindset in the right track again. He already won his first gold medal at his senior debut and he doubt that the Japanese skater will be in any better condition than Yuri's currently in right now. Pig-man must've been in a much worse state considering his boo Victor had to stay in Russia during the pandemic, unable to keep an eye on Yuuri's routines.

"Besides, there's a little surprise waiting for you where you'll be staying with the two of them. It better work out fine or else I'm out of ideas."

That caught his attention to say the least.

"Well if it's supposed to save me from the deep end then why be so secretive and hushy with it? Spill the news, Yakov."

The old man only grunted and picked up his newspaper once again and hid his face behind it. Well now he really wanted to know what it was. Clearly he would have to make some effort. Soon the article about a Russian charity event taking place this weekend got replaced with a clenched fist going straight through the back of the paper. Yuri expected some kind of reaction but Yakov only sighed and leaned back in his seat without even a flinch.

"It's no surprise if I tell you. I promised Victor to keep it a secret."

"Tell me."

"No."

Yuri groaned and folded his arms with a sour glare. The display in the ceiling told the traveler's that it was 10 minutes until landing so he gave up his attempts and let his eyes rest for a while. At least he would find out tomorrow, he assumed. It was 2am and he would be staying at a hotel close to the airport since it was too late to make rest of the trip in one day.

Yuri was out with the speed of a lightning bolt the second the plane doors opened. He sped past everyone before him and he didn't stop when he finally got outside. His feet carried him to run circles around the plane meanwhile he was waiting for Yakov to get out the normal way. It's a silly habit of his and he knows he looks stupid doing it but his coach has given him strict orders to not run away at one random direction like used to do at first. It would take like half an hour for him to be found once he took off, but only if he got lost.

"Yuri! Get over here!"

Well, there's his cue to get ready and head to the hotel. Finally he's able to get some sleep before he's forced to wake up early at dawn to head to Hot Springs and meet the two most annoying people in Japan.

...

He didn't even have time to eat breakfast. He overslept and got rushed to the cab with an angry Yakov behind him, newspaper folded tightly in his fist. The trip through the beautiful Japan would've been pleasant if Yuri hadn't dozed off every 10 seconds. He didn't get much sleep after all. He spent at least three hours thinking about the special surprise and raiding the free mini bar before he finally got to rest. At 8am he was woken up with banging on the door and now, at 10am, he was standing at the entrance of Hot Springs waiting for Yuuri's mom to announce their arrival. She hurried away somewhere with her usual bubbly happy self that Yuri had no idea how a person could be so... not moody all day long.

The place was as crowded with customers as last time and the two Russians were told to step inside to the more private parts of the building where the family lived along with Victor at the moment.

"Victor! How come my brand new lotion is used? You smelled a suspicious amount of peaches and wild berries at breakfast and there's no point denying it!" A fairly soft and modulated voice was heard from somewhere to the left where the private shower stalls were located. A couple seconds later a giggly Victor and Yuuri came through the direction of the living room and greeted Yuri with happy cheers. The slender white haired Russian caught Yakov in a bear hug, much to the old man's surprise. Yuuri extended his hand towards Yuri but Yuri didn't give any effort in taking it.

"Food. I'm starving."

Yuuri dropped his hand with a light blush but Victor pouted and let go of his former coach. Strong and clingy arms were suddenly wrapped around his chest and he couldn't breathe.

"So unpolite... Yuriooo we've missed you! Haven't you missed us?"

Yuri thrashed like a fish caught in a net and tried to hit the arms of the bastard trapping him. Yuuri joined in, only to get a kick in the hip. His stomach growled angrily and the endless void in his body didn't lighten up the experience a bit.

"Let go you old man! You too piglet!"

"I hoped you'd say it out loud but I know that deep down you've been missing us, Yuriii." Victor went to whisper in his ear with pouty lips but was swatted away by a backhand in his face. That finally caused him to let go and Yuri jumped out of reach for the two males.

"Hm... Or not." The expression he got from Victor was sad and pouty and the man earned a hand on his shoulder, put there by Yuuri. Yuri could only sigh and shake his head.

"Victor! Did you steal my shampoo too?! I will- Oh? What now?" Yuri turned around abruptly by the unfamiliar yet familiar voice behind him. His eyes widened.

The girl was standing to the left of the hall, seemingly coming from the shower. A curious hand rested against the wall beside her and her face was covered in a grey clay face mask, a toothbrush lazily hanging from the corner of her lips. Her (h/c) eyes glistened with mild shock along with her mouth hanging slightly open.

"You are early... Victor, you told me they would arrive at 1pm1!" She pointed a strict finger at the tall man who scratched the back of his head with a hesitant laugh. Her eyes narrowed and she grabbed her toothbrush. Because even if she was standing unprepared in front of two strangers, she would at least not forget to brush her teeth in the process, as you do.

Yuri might've considered it normal if it wasn't for that she was almost naked. Two towels were the only fabric hiding her, one wrapped around her dripping figure and the other tied up in her hair.

"Yeah, about that! I kind of mixed up the time of their arrival and your meeting with the press, that's, by the way now when I think of it, not actually cancelled but later today. Silly of me to forget, right?"

She eyed him as though her bullshit meter was ticking in the red zone and let out a huff. Yuri had to advert his gaze when it suddenly felt intruding to eye her the way he did. He also turned away because a light tint of pink was creeping up his cheeks.

"Right. Thanks for the early update. I appreciate it, really. I'll be with you again in 30 minutes. Don't wait up for me." And with that, she was gone. The silence of the men maintained for a few moments until Yuuri coughed with an awkward smile, his red cheeks still visible even after the girl had disappeared. 'It's a little weird to blush at your almost naked sister' he thought.

"So food, right? Mom is preparing pork cutlet bowls for you, Yurio, since she remembered how much you liked them last time-" He didn't have to say it twice. Yuri was off to the dining area before the man even finished saying 'pork cutlet bowl'.

#yuri plisetsky #yuri plisetsky x reader #yuriart #yuri katsuki #yuri on ice #victor nikirofov #anime fanfic #animelove #fanfiction

120 notes · View notes

let-the-dream-begin · 4 years

Text

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 4: The Past Can Hurt

Chapter 3

Read on AO3

Claire peeked at the rear view mirror again, and smiled again at the sight of her happy daughter. Faith's favorite "reward meal" was McDonald's. Claire had pinky-promised that if she was a good girl with the horses today, they would get McDonald's for dinner on the way home. She was contentedly waving around the Minion toy that had come in the happy meal, humming and kicking her little legs. Claire had both of their meals on the passenger seat, knowing full well that her daughter would make quite the mess if she let her eat in the car. So would Claire, to be frank.

Claire had made it abundantly clear how proud she was of Faith, had reminded her several times already how she'd been such a good girl. Whether this made Faith happy to hear, or she was simply still in the afterglow of petting a horse, was anyone's guess. Claire hoped Faith could see, could truly understand how happy her mother was. She supposed if she said it enough it might sink in, if it hadn't already.

Back at home, the moment Claire unbuckled Faith from her carseat, she insisted on carrying her meal in herself, to which Claire was more than happy to oblige. She watched, amused, as Faith scampered up the steps to their front door, waiting rather impatiently for her mother to catch up. This was something that Faith had done whenever they'd arrived at their home in Oxfordshire: squirm out of Claire's grip and bolt to the porch, rocking on her heels or bouncing while she waited for the door to open. As Claire pushed the key into the lock, her heart felt a little lighter.

She already feels like this is her home.

Faith immediately scampered inside and right to the kitchen, and by the time Claire got the door shut, stuffed horse onto the couch, and shoes off, Faith was already halfway through her chicken nuggets, sitting up on her knees at the kitchen table. Claire shook her head, laughing.

"You are certainly in a good mood, aren't you, darling?" She ruffled her curly hair and sat down across from her, opening her own paper bag, pulling out her burger and french fries. The teenager at the drive-thru had been quite bewildered when she'd asked for crisps. Such strange lingo these Americans used.

Faith was finished eating before Claire was even halfway through her burger, and she slid off her chair and reached for the chocolate shake that Claire put on the counter to be out of her reach until she finished. Claire sprung out of her seat to grab it herself before Faith could cause it to topple and make a mess.

"Let Mummy help, Faith," Claire said, frantically. "You have to ask for help..." Claire sighed in defeat, handing over the milkshake. She sat back down as Faith settled in again, knowing better than to leave the kitchen with food of any kind. Claire watched her little cheeks hollow out as she guzzled down the liquid, her honey eyes light with joy.

Faith's being nonverbal was not as much of an issue as it could have been, but it was an issue nonetheless. The worst of it was when she was clearly distraught and could not communicate the source of her distress. Had she made a mess of her chocolate shake due to her inability to ask for help, it would have been quite the inconvenience, but Claire supposed mealtime could have gone much worse. Claire knew her daughter by now, better than Claire even knew herself. She'd become accustomed to the various grunts and whines, associating meaning to each different sound over the years. She supposed, however, that this would not be a sufficient way to communicate to a teacher someday, or Mrs. Lickett when Claire was no longer able to stay home with them.

Claire's anxiety lessened a bit at the thought of the woman; Mrs. Lickett was certified to teach American Sign Language to nonverbal autistic children, and she promised Claire she'd have Faith doing basic signs by the time she was ready to start school, whenever that may be.

Then she remembered how close they'd come to a meltdown in the stable, and how easily Jamie had calmed her, how proud he'd been to introduce the horse to her as a reward, how happy it had made Faith. Claire's heart swelled for perhaps the hundredth time since they'd left. The sound of slurping filled the room as Faith reached the end of her milkshake.

"All done, lovie?" Faith took her mouth off the straw and smiled contentedly at her mother. "Clean up now, Faith. Garbage in the bin, please."

Faith did as she was told, and then Claire beckoned her into her lap.

"Come here, darling," she crooned, enveloping her in her arms. "Mummy is so very proud of you, baby. I'll never stop saying it." She kissed her cheek, and Faith giggled. "Are you happy, Faith? Hm?" She rocked her gently, but Faith just hummed and traced patterns on Claire's arms with her fingertips.

"Happy, Faith?" Claire said again, remembering the thumbs-up maneuver from earlier, and employing it now. "Are you happy, love?"

Faith giggled again and grabbed Claire's thumb in her little hand.

"Faith, no..." Claire couldn't help but chuckle, as well. "See? Thumbs-up if you're happy, Faith. Happy?" She tried again with her free thumb.

Faith giggled yet again, but this time, she returned the gesture. Claire laughed out loud and brought the little fist, still holding her thumb, to her lips to cover with kisses.

"I'm happy, too, baby girl," Claire said. "Very happy."

She gave another little giggle before squirming out of Claire's arms and pattering out of the kitchen. Claire cleaned up after herself and returned to the table to continue nursing her own milkshake. Faith bounded back in with a DVD box in hand and held it expectantly up to Claire. Claire smiled and took it in her hands.

"Ah, all about animals today, hm?" She cocked an eyebrow at Faith. Tonight's choice was The Lion King. This was typical, even back in Oxfordshire. Faith would toddle up to either Claire or Frank with a DVD after dinner and expect help to get it ready, so she could watch her movie before bed. More often than not, Frank would wordlessly hand the box over to Claire instead, and after a while Faith learned to only bring it to Claire.

Claire put the DVD in as Faith went into her room, returning with her baby Simba stuffed animal to watch with. She settled onto the couch, now righted to its position in the middle of the room, centered and straightened. There were still boxes and messes, but things were slowly coming together. Claire took this opportunity while Faith was glued to the telly to get to some more boxes. She peeled the tape off a particularly heavy box, and smiled to herself at the sight of the picture frames inside, covered in bubble wrap. She moved behind the couch to the long table pushed against it, exactly where she'd planned to put said pictures. She unwrapped them all lovingly and arranged them on the table: an infant Faith fast asleep like a little angel on Claire's shoulder; Faith in the photo studio with a large, plastic number "1" for her first birthday; Claire holding Faith on a carousel, smiling like a fool at her toddler aged daughter; Faith, two-and-a-half, grabbing at Frank's cheeks and laughing her head off.

Christ.

Claire froze, a hard lump forming in her throat as the opening chords to "Circle of Life" filled her ears. What was she supposed to do with this? Why had she even packed it? Well, that was easy enough: Faith looked simply darling. But...

She ran trembling fingers over both of their faces behind the glass, sighing with a shudder.

Oh, Frank...How happy we once were.

Indecisive, Claire put the frame back in the box, reaching for another to unwrap: Faith mid-bite of a chocolate-chip pancake at the breakfast table. The older she got, the less complacent she'd been for photo opportunities, so Claire had to content herself with capturing candid, silly moments like this, and she honestly would not have had it any other way. She stood it up next to the carousel shot and reached for another.

God damn it.

Claire holding Faith at the church the day of her christening, Frank's arm wrapped around Claire's shoulders, smiling proudly.

Fuck you.

Claire pressed the frame face-down into the table, biting her bottom lip to stifle a sob. How dare he stand there, looking so proud of the family that he would so quickly discard? How dare he let that little girl touch his face like that, how dare he smile at her so brightly, lead her to believe he'd always be there?

Her fingers trembled as they hovered over the keypad of numbers. Was it worth it? Couldn't she just put Faith on the plane and change her number, disappear forever?

She supposed that might not exactly be legal, no matter the terms on which Frank had left the house two weeks ago.

She somehow found the nerve to finish dialing the number and bring the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

She gulped. "Hello, Frank."

"Hello, Claire."

She cleared her throat. "I'm...I'm taking Faith to the states. And I don't think you have any right to try and stop me."

"I shouldn't think I do."

She shuddered with hatred at his indifference; though she'd expected as much, it didn't sting any less. "Alright. Good. I don't want anything from you, Frank. I am perfectly capable of taking care of her basic needs on my residency salary."

"Alright."

"But there's one thing. It's the least you can do. For the love you once bore me."

"I did not stop loving you, Claire."

"Oh, yes, you did," Claire spat.

“Claire — ”

“No, that’s enough,” she said, firmly. “Listen. I want nothing from you but the exact amount a certain therapy will cost. It’s expensive, but the doctor thinks it can really help Faith. I’m asking nothing else of you, Frank. Just around six thousand a year, broken up monthly, to pay for the therapy.”

Claire knew she likely could afford the therapy, but things would be tight. Rent on Long Island was not cheap by any means; neither was the general cost of living there, and neither was the kind of babysitter with the qualifications necessary for taking care of someone with Faith’s needs. Not to mention she wanted to start setting money aside for a service dog, which would be an enormous investment in and of itself, but one that would certainly be worth it if it would make it easier for them to be in public places. The extra money from Frank would be worth it, no matter how sick to her stomach it made her to ask it of him.

“What sort of therapy costs that much?”

“Equine therapy.”

He scoffed. “You really believe — ”

“Yes. I do.” She had to clench her teeth and take a very deep breath through her nose to stop herself from attacking again. “Will you pay for it or not? As the man who sired her, who owes her something? Will you?”

A slight pause, then he sighed. “Fine. I don’t care how much it is, I just don’t want to deal with it.”

Claire almost choked on the expletives she swallowed. “I understand. I’ve already set aside a separate bank account for you to make deposits.” She read him the account number and the routing number, along with exact amounts needed each month.

“All you need to do is make the deposits every month. And you’ll never hear from us again.”

He sighed again. “Claire…If I could change things…”

Claire almost fell for it…but she knew what he meant.

He did not mean: “If I could change my behavior, the things I said.” He meant: “If I could change what our daughter is.”

And it made her sick.

“Goodbye, Frank.”

Faith’s humming and rocking brought Claire back to Earth. She looked up from the box to see Faith holding her stuffed Simba in the air, mirroring Rafiki on the screen doing just that. Claire chuckled to herself and swallowed any remaining urge to cry. Claire put the christening picture back in the box, deciding that she’d make a decision on what to do with it later. Perhaps she could try her hand at scissors, combine the two pictures in one frame. It would certainly be satisfying to literally cut him out of those moments in Faith’s life.

But on the other hand…was that cruel? Would Faith someday learn to verbally or otherwise communicate the question: Where did Daddy go? Should she keep these pictures intact for that purpose? What Claire would want to say in response to such a question would be that Faith did not have a Daddy and that she didn’t need one. But perhaps that was doing her an injustice.

Claire reached for another picture.

Yes…that was something that could wait to be decided on.

Claire had made a considerable dent in her unpacking venture by the time Faith’s movie finished, and she was altogether quite satisfied with her work.

“What do you think of that, Faith?” Claire sighed contentedly as she removed the DVD from the player and put it back in the box. “Your disorganized-as-all-get-out Mummy is actually getting somewhere with her organizing.” Faith slid off the couch to take the box from her so she could put it back where she found it. “Isn’t that a marvel?”

Claire watched with piqued interest as Faith sat on her knees in front of the little entertainment center, the cupboard beneath the telly opened for her inspection. Faith had a system, some sort of arrangement of her movies that she always abided by. Not a single movie was ever out of place. Claire could not for the life of her decipherer what the system was; it was something created and used only by Faith. Claire had unpacked all their movies and put them inside, only for Faith to gut the entire thing and arrange them herself. It had greatly amused Claire at the time. She’d been at it for hours.

It didn’t take long for her to return The Lion King to its apparent correct position, and then Faith shut the cupboard.

“Alright, lovie. Time to brush your teeth.”

Claire stood and led Faith into the bathroom. Claire lifted her up onto the counter to sit and Claire got to work brushing her own teeth first. Faith had not yet mastered the coordination of tooth-brushing, and Claire still did it for her every night. But her psychiatrist had said that if Faith watched her mother do it enough times, something might strike a chord one day, and she’d suddenly be an expert at dental hygiene. Apparently, Doctor Garner had seen this happen plenty of times before.

So Claire brushed, tilting her head slightly toward Faith as usual, and then moving on to brush Faith’s teeth. When she finished, Claire handed her one of the little paper cups they kept in the bathroom.

"Rinse and spit," she crooned, as she did every night.

Routine was everything to Faith, and Claire had even begun clinging to the lifeline that was knowing every next move for every day. It soothed Faith's ever present anxiety and gave her expectations for every day, and it kept Claire grounded in the reality of their lives. This was why she'd been so scared to move. Moving to the house next door to them in Oxfordshire would have been a big enough change to merit Faith's discomfort, let alone moving across an ocean to a completely different style of living. There'd certainly been an adjustment period for her routine-conditioned little girl, but it hadn't been nearly as long or as difficult as Claire had anticipated.

Doctor Garner had suggested that no matter how disorienting things were when they'd arrived at the new apartment, the sooner Claire could reestablish that same routine that Faith had been accustomed to in Oxfordshire, the better. It was the reason she'd had furniture sent to the apartment before they'd even arrived. The sooner Faith could associate the new home with the commonplace furniture, the sooner she'd begin to realize this was home now. And all that, combined with maintaining their old routines in a new place was actually working quite well.

Teeth brushed and pajamas on, Claire tucked Faith into her bed. Faith's brand new princess comforter had arrived on Wednesday, and Faith was over the moon. Claire hadn't yet had a problem getting her to sleep since they'd put it on the bed. Claire filled the medicine dropper from the liquid Risperdal bottle, and Faith dutifully opened her mouth to let Claire drop it in, her face screwing up in the usual disgust to taste the bitter liquid.

"Swallow, please," Claire said, cocking an eyebrow. Faith grimaced, but obeyed. "Good girl."

Claire knew full well that Faith hated the taste of her medicine; it had been an utter nightmare to get her to take it every night at first. She'd had to bribe her with a Smartie every time she took it. Claire had a little stash of M&Ms (apparently the American equivalent) just in case Faith was ever particularly stubborn.

Claire set the medicine aside on the nightstand and tucked Horsie (who had been properly cleaned and disinfected after being dropped in the dirt in the stable) under her arm.

"There's Horsie, darling. So you can dream of all the horses you saw today, like Pippi." She leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, love. Today was a very, very good day."

Faith smiled a toothy grin as Claire rose to turn on the nightlight. She stopped at the door to flicker off the main light and take one last look at her daughter, savoring the contentment settling in her chest and warming her from the inside out before shutting the door.

——

The next few days were not as smooth sailing.

Jamie had been quite right when he’d predicted the riding helmet would bother Faith. Since Mrs. Lickett only came by on weekdays, Claire decided it was as good a time as ever to give the helmet a try. After breakfast, Claire sat Faith on the couch and retrieved the helmet and Horsie.

“Alright, little girl.” She sat down, horse and helmet in hand. “Mister Jamie gave us this helmet. See?” She held it up to Faith. “Mister Jamie said you can’t ride Pippi unless you learn to wear the helmet.” She held both the horse and the helmet in front of Faith. “See? Horsie and helmet have to go together. Yes?”

Faith hummed happily and reached for Horsie.

“Alright…let’s see…” Claire carefully attempted to lower the helmet onto Faith’s head, but her face immediately darkened and she groaned in annoyance, averting her head.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s just a little hat. Come on, now…”

She groaned again, louder, shoving the helmet away with both of her hands.

“Wait,” Claire said quickly. “Wait here, Faith.”

Claire scrambled into her bedroom and into her closet, tearing through its contents, throwing things behind her until she found what she was looking for. A plain blue visor that she hadn’t worn in years, but kept around just in case.

“Here, Faith, look.” Claire returned to the couch and sat down. She put the visor on her own head. “See? A hat.” Faith stared at her blankly. Claire smiled and took off the visor, plopping it onto Faith’s curly head. “See?”

Faith giggled, and Claire felt a renewed sense of hope. She took the helmet back in her hands and placed it precariously atop her head. “See? It’s just a hat. It doesn’t fit Mummy’s big head, though. It was made just for you.”

Claire playfully swiped the visor off Faith's head and replaced it with the helmet, and she did not squirm away.

Claire gasped with contrived shock. "Look at you!" she gushed. Faith was beaming. "What a lovely hat, Faith!"

She hummed and bounced, and Claire laughed.

Victory!

And that was when she made her fatal mistake. She got cocky.

"Now let's just fasten it, and then you're properly wearing your new hat, yes?" Claire reached for the chin strap and fastened it. "There! All ready to ride!"

Faith's entire demeanor changed, her little brow furrowing. She reached for the chinstrap and tucked her fingers underneath, starting to tug.

"It's okay, darling."

Faith began groaning.

"Hey, it's okay, Faith." Claire, having prepared for exactly this, reached for the yellow stress ball from the stables on the coffee table. "Faith, here, love. It's okay." She put the ball in one of her hands, but Faith did not latch on. She let it fall to the ground, not removing her fingers from beneath the chin strap. Dread settled into the pit of her stomach.

“Faith…” Claire stooped down to retrieve the ball, then realized it had rolled halfway across the room. She got up from the couch to pick it up, and when she turned around, Faith was tugging forcefully on the helmet, the chin strap digging into her throat.

“Faith!” Claire dropped the ball again and practically leapt back onto the couch. “Stop!”

Fingers trembling, Claire frantically fumbled with the clasp of the chin strap, desperately trying to stop her daughter from choking herself. The second she was free, Faith gave a loud wail and hurled the helmet across the room, causing Claire to jump back in shock.

Claire was too stunned to scold her right away, her medical degree kicking into full gear as she examined her neck and throat for any marks, listened to see if her breathing was normal. Once she was certain everything was alright, Claire firmly seized one of her wrists.

“We do not throw things, Faith.” Faith began squirming, pawing at her mother’s hand. “Faith, look at me, please. I need you to look at my eyes, Faith.”

She gave a loud wail and a particularly hard yank.

“We do not throw things. Do you hear me, young lady?”

A sharp pain suddenly stuck itself into Claire’s hand, and she cried out. She immediately released Faith’s wrist and recoiled her hand into herself.

She bloody bit me.

Faith wriggled off the couch and bolted for the front door. She started tugging on the handle, determined to open the door and get as far away as her little legs would carry. Claire knew she’d really do it, too, if the door wasn’t locked.

Claire briefly sucked at the blood that started slowly trickling from her hand and then strode to the front door.

“You’re not going anywhere, little girl.” She scooped Faith around the torso with one arm and carried her, kicking and screaming into her bedroom to deposit her on the bed.

“Listen to me, Faith. If you do not calm down this instant you’ll not have any dessert tonight. Do you hear me?”

Faith shrieked. She’d certainly heard.

“I’m going to count to ten! If I get to ten and you’ve not stopped crying, no dessert.”

Claire hadn’t even gotten to three when Faith started throwing her stuffed animals in her direction. Claire continued counting calmly, knowing full well that the cotton toys would not hurt her. It was only when she reached for the lamp on her nightstand that she stopped at seven, lurching forward to stop her.

“No!” Claire shouted. Faith immediately released the lamp and clamped her hands over her ears, and a horrible, searing guilt burned her gut.

“Faith, baby, I’m sorry…I’m sorry, darling…” Claire sat down on the bed beside her and made to wrap her arms around her daughter, but she hesitated. Would she bite again, or punch, or kick?

Claire felt shameful tears stinging her eyes. Was she no better than Frank, raising her voice at her audio-sensitive daughter when she was being slightly difficult?

She shouldn’t have fastened the chin strap. She should have just let her get used to the helmet itself first. She maybe should have even waited for Mrs. Lickett to try the chinstrap. And now, because of her carelessness, she’d triggered her daughter’s biggest anxiety, and the poor girl was screaming her little head off, red in the face, because of her own mother.

Claire noticed, almost too late, that her hand was about to bleed on Faith’s brand new comforter. She hissed a frustrated “fuck” under her breath and quickly made her way to the bathroom to tend to it. She hastily wrapped some gauze around it and made her way back into Faith’s room to find her in the exact same position, hands on her ears, screaming. Claire sighed in defeat and quickly wiped her eyes clear of the tears that threatened to spill over. Perhaps it would be best if she just left her for now. There was no telling if she’d do something violent again if Claire tried to comfort her, and there was no consoling her otherwise. Claire decided to remove the lamp and anything else heavy that she could throw before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

Only when the door was shut did Claire finally allow herself to cry.

She didn’t care that Faith could have broken a lamp and shattered a lightbulb on the new wood floors; she didn’t even care that her own daughter had drawn blood from her with her teeth. What hurt worse than that was knowing that her little girl was in turmoil because of triggers that her own mother couldn’t understand, couldn’t make better, things that Faith was not able to communicate to her or to anyone. And to make matters worse, she couldn’t even comfort her. When she was a baby, before she was symptomatic, all Claire had to do was scoop her out of her crib and rock her, bounce her, sing to her, and all her anxieties would cease, her crying would stop. But now, the older Faith got, it felt like Claire was less and less capable of providing that comfort, that sense of security.

I’m her mother. That’s my job.

And I’m failing.

Claire dumped the contents of Faith’s room that she’d emptied onto the couch and collapsed next to them, letting her tears fall freely. Somewhere in her fevered brain, she had the sense to pick up her phone from the coffee table and text Gillian. She typed: “Hey, could I call you right now?” then quickly backspaced and tried again: “Hey, are you busy right now?” She hit send, and then frantically added in a second message: “No emergency. Just miss you and want to hear your voice.”

After she hit send the second time, she let her phone rest in her lap and rested her head back on the couch cushion. Leaving Gillian had been the hardest part of leaving England. She’d been Claire’s best friend all throughout college and medical school. They’d decided to be roommates sophomore year after meeting in the pre-med program, and they’d never lived separately again until Claire’s wedding, at which, of course, Gillian had been the maid of honor. They were two peas in a pod, though one wouldn’t think so to see them separately. Gillian was brash and loud, and delightfully inappropriate more often than not. Gillian liked to say that Claire was the odd one out, that she was much too proper.

Gillian had been there for Claire after Faith’s diagnosis when Frank had not. He’d muttered something about needing some air the minute they got home from the doctor, and Claire had immediately phoned Gillian, sobbing into the phone for hours.

“He’s going to leave me, he’s going to leave us…I can’t do this alone…”

Gillian scoffed. “Wi’ the way he’s acting now, I bloody hope he does leave. Feckin’ louse.”

Well, she’d gotten what she wanted.

“I never bloody liked the bastard. I knew I should ha’ said something when he proposed. God dammit.”

Gillian had been the one to assure her that she was a good mother, that Faith’s triggers were not her fault, that she was doing the best she could.

Claire just needed to hear that right now.

As expected, Claire’s phone buzzed shortly after. She picked it up, expecting it to be a text in response, but Gillian was already calling her. Claire smiled to herself and sniffled.

“Hello?” she said, already embarrassed at how snuffly she sounded.

Gillian was quiet for a moment, then said: “Oh, is that wee Faith?”

Apparently, her shrieks were loud enough to be heard across the ocean. Claire sighed. “Yup.”

“She’s having one of her meltdowns, and ye’re all upset and feelin’ like you failed her, aye? That ye made the wrong decisions?”

Claire’s eyes quickly welled up again. “Yes,” she croaked.

“Oh, Claire. Ye ken that lass thinks ye’re a bloody queen, don’t ye? She worships ye.”

“When she’s not biting me. Or throwing things at me.”

“Och, biting again, aye? Well…ye ken that’s the autism. That’s no’ yer wee Faith. She canna help it when it takes over.”

“I know. I just…”

“She loves ye, Claire. I’ve seen it wi’ my own eyes. And I ken that she knows how fiercely ye love her. The autism just makes it hard fer her to see sometimes, aye?”

Claire breathed shakily. “I know you’re right. I mean…I know all this already. It just…”

“I ken. Ye need the reassurance. ’Specially since the Sperm Donor hasnae given ye any such thing his whole miserable life.”

Despite the pain that that fact caused, Claire could not help but smirk at Gillian’s newest term of endearment for the man who sired Faith. “Right.”

“Must be hard over there, all alone.” Claire could hear the twinge of sadness in her voice.

“I miss you, too, Gi.”

“I’m counting down the days ’till Christmas. Canna wait to see my two favorite lasses.”

Claire smiled. “And I can’t wait to see my best friend, and my daughter’s Godmother.”

“I’ve got to run, I had to sneak into a supply closet to call ye. I’m in the middle of a shift — ”

“Gillian,” Claire admonished. “You shouldn’t be doing that — ”

“Nothing more important than making sure my girls are okay. Aye?”

Claire sighed and rolled her eyes, but her smile widened.

“I hear she’s still carrying on, but just let her get it out of her wee system. She’ll be back to her humming and her movies soon enough. Just wait it out. Ye ken.”

“Yeah…I know.”

“I love ye, Claire. And I miss ye. Hang in there. I’ll call ye again sometime this week when I’m no’ in the middle of a shift. I wanna hear all about this Long Island of yers.”

Claire chuckled. “Alright. I eagerly await.”

“G’bye.”

“Bye, Gi. Thank you. Love you.”

“Quite welcome.”

She hung up, and Claire dropped her phone in her lap again. Faith was going to be inconsolable for at least another half hour, and Claire didn’t think she could bear just sitting there and listening. She didn’t turn on the telly or any music, lest she miss a suspicious noise or not hear that she stopped crying, but she did get to work sorting through a few more boxes. On her way over to a particular stack, she tripped over something. She looked down to see the riding helmet. Claire grimaced and gave it a strong kick, sending it rolling under the coffee table. She almost laughed: she’d only just admonished her daughter for doing almost the exact same thing.

“Bloody fucking helmet bastard piece of shit…”

She dissolved into an incoherent string of expletives, grateful that Faith, nor anyone else, could hear her.

#outlander #outlander au #outlander fanfic #outlandwr fanfiction #claire fraser #fergus fraser #faith fraser

109 notes · View notes

kaiparker-avengerssmut · 3 years

Text

CURSED: CHAPTER FIVE

"Had I known how to save a life"

Kai Parker x OC!Mack Grace

Series synopsis: "We're both cursed, in a way."

We all know the story of Kai Parker, but he once lived in a very different life. Do you ever wonder what that life looked like?

Chapter summary: there’s a party

Warnings: ben is a douche, Kai is kinda sweet

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

It had been about 20 minutes since they realised Nicole was alive and a lot had happened, Mack had broken into more tears and an ambulance had arrived. The fire engine had retrieved Nicole and she was on her way to the hospital, everyone else either stood around awkwardly in shock or heading home. Mack leant against a tree and sunk to her knees covering her face with her hands. She sat there for god knows how long. She hadn't seen Kai or Ben since the almost fight and she didn't particularly want to either. She looked up a someone cleared their throat.

"Need a hand?" Kai said - almost shyly - holding his hand towards her. Mack stared into his eyes but didn't move, before Kai sighed and extended his hand further. "C'mon Kenz, I don't bite." She carefully put her hand in his and Kai yanked Mack to her feet, pulling her close to him and whispering in her ear. "At least not unless you want me to." His hot breath fanned across her face and Mack looked away turning red. Kai stepped back and winked, backing away.

No matter the situation, Kai always managed to make Mack so flustered and it annoyed the shut out of her. Why? Why him of all people? Mack sighed, annoyed and walked towards Ben's car, before noticing it was gone.

"Need a ride?" Kai's cocky voice sounded from behind her. Mack threw her head back before looking back up and putting on a fake smile and turning to face him.

"No- yes. Please." She said quickly, a smirk breaking into Kai's face and he gestured for Mack to follow him. His unlocked his jeep and let Mack inside before going to his side of the car and climbing in.

Mack rested her head back against the seat and the tears suddenly fell. She was so close today, too close. Kai froze.

"You okay, Kenz?" You could slightly heat the concern in his voice. She clenched her eyes shut and pressed her lips together before turning to Kai and shaking her head. "Hey, hey. It's fine. She didn't die, it's not your fault, Kenz. It's that jackass you call a boyfriend." She nodded and he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, not sure what to do.

"It's not fine, Kai." She spat through the tears, breaking down into even more.

"Shhhh, okay it's not fine. But it's still not your fault." He reassured her, before pulling her into his chest and wrapping his arms around her. The embrace was awkward at first, but they both melted into it soon enough. Kai's hand ran through Mack's messy hair and he rubbed her back soothingly, trying to make her calm again.

As the tears subsided Mack pulled away and wiped her now wet eyes before sitting back into her seat. Kai's Starr was still on her.

"You need anything?" His voice was unsure.

"Just take me home, please."

The sun leaking through the slight gap in the curtains made Mack's eyes fluttered open. She groaned and rolled over, pulling the covers back over her head. But they were yanked back down straight away.

"Ah ah ah sweetheart, you don't want to miss breakfast do you?" The sound of Kai's voice from beside her made Mack shoot up and instantly look under the covers. Clothes were on. But they were not what she was wearing last night. She was in one of Kai's AC/DC T-shirts and her underwear. Shit. She looked to the side to see a grinning Kai laying over the covers with his hands folded behind his head and his ankles casually crossed. Her eyebrows pulled together as she spoke.

"Why am I-" Kai cut her off before she could get any further.

"In completely different clothes to last night? I thought you'd be uncomfortable in a wet suit." Kai's smirk was evident through the insistent grin.

"You saw me naked?!" Mack almost screeched with wide eyes, holding the covers over her chest.

"Maybe." His grin was now a full-blown smirk. Mack made a noise of disbelief before slapping his arm and scrambling out of the bed, trying to hold the covers over her half-naked body but failing. Her feet twisted with the dark blue sheets and her shoulder collided with the wall.

"Ouch." Kai mused through his hysterical laughter and Mack stumbled into the adjoined bathroom and kicked the door shut with her foot, shouting a muffled 'fuck off!' as she did so.

Once getting into the bathroom Mack instantly spotted her wet suit and bikini top on the floor. Mack double checked the door was locked before tugging the t-shirt over her head and putting her cloths from yesterday back on. A sudden knock on the door made her jump.

"You know, wet suits are uncomfortable. I could always lend you some clothes." Kai shouts from the other side of the door. Mack sighed and unlocked it.

"Really?" She asked hopefully, popping her head round the side. Kai thrust an armful of clothes towards her and Mack backed into the bathroom to get changed. "Thanks."

"No problem, you look sexy in my clothes anyway." Kai winked and Mack scoffed before rolling her eyes and closing the door.

A minute later she walked out clad in light grey sweats and another one of Kai's t-shirts, this was a black Nirvana one.

"Kai?"

"Yes, Kenz."

"Why am I not home?" For some reason Mack hadn't asked that question yet.

"You fell asleep in the car and I felt too bad to wake you so I took you back to mine." Kai said with a fake pout.

"You felt bad? Wow. Funny." Mack scoffed. "Wait. I slept in your bed, which means-" Kai cut her off again.

"I slept on the couch." He finished for her, flashing a smile of innocence. Mack's mouth was still open. She closed it after a second and frowned.

"Oh."

"You want a ride home?"

"I thought you said breakfast was ready."

"I did, and I lied. I just didn't know how you'd react to being woken up and I was bored." Mack rolled her eyes at Kai's words and picked up her stuff.

"Sure. Take me home." Kai stayed on the bed. "Please." He jumped up and brushed past her and out the door.

"Whatever you say babe." Mack stopped in her tracks.

"Babe? That's what you've resorted to now?" The disbelief her her voice clear.

"Well, you told me you didn't like princess, so..." Kai trailed off and grinned before continuing his was down the stairs.

"Where's Jo? And your parents?" Mack wondered as Kai locked the door.

"They're away for the week." He said simply.

"The whole week? Without you?" Mack pushed.

"I didn't want to go. It's some family thing - there's always something happening." He shrugged, getting into his car.

"Oh." Mack could've think of anything else to say.

"So I'm having a bunch of people round mine tonight, wanna come?" Kai asked with a smirk. Mack shook her head and tried to hide her laugh.

"I'll pass. Hanging out with you're lot never works out well for me." Mack snorted.

"'My lot'? What's that, Kenz?" Kai tilted his head questioningly.

"You know, the popular kids. The jocks and self-obsessed bitches that gossip and call themselves pretty." Kai raised a brow.

"Self-obsessed bitches who think they're pretty? What'd they do to you?" Kai laughed. Mack crossed her arms and scoffed. "That bad?!" He continued laughing.

"I meant what I said. I used to be part of that crowd, realised they were awful and graduating school was more important so I left." Mack defeated. All Kai did in response was nod.

"Here we are, babe." Kai pulled into Mack's drive and brought the car to a stop. She rolled her eyes but said nothing.

"Thanks." Mack said before getting out the car and walking into the house.

"Think about tonight! It's starts at 8!" Kai shouted before driving off.

"Mack!" Kim shouted. Mack groaned and padded over to her door, flinging it open and shouting back.

"What?!" Mack answered with a bored voice.

"Ben's here! He's coming up!" Kim replied and sauntered off, letting Ben make his way up the stairs.

"Hey babe." Ben greeted as he walked through her door, placing a chaste kiss on Mack's lips. She cringed internally and turned away, plopping back down onto her bed. "Get changed. We're going to Kai's." Ben spoke.

"W-What? I already told him I wasn't going." Mack defended.

"Since when are you hanging out with Kai? And hurry up, we need to be there in 20 minutes." Ben's tone was demanding.

"He took me home last night after you disappeared." Ben rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. "And I'm not just gonna up and leave because you tell me too." Ben's expression was over taken with rage.

"Yes. You. Are. You never go out with me and people are starting to think you're not into me. You're coming." With that Mack gave up, scared to anger her boyfriend further. She pulled some cloths out her drawer and put them on, discarding her pyjamas on her unmade bed and walking over to Ben. He pulled her into him, making Mack gasp, and brushed his hand over her cheekbone before trailing it over her curves and grabbing her ass. "Mmmm, you look sexy. I can't wait to tear this off you later." Ben whispered in her ear before intertwining their hands and pulling her out of the room with him.

As they pulled into Kai's drive Mack slipped out the car and waited for Ben, who wrapped his arm around her waist and led Mack to the front door. He knocked loudly and the door soon swung open, revealing Kai, who's head was facing away from them.

"Sure, just don't go in Jo's room - she gets cranky if everything isn't perfect." Kai shouted down the hall to someone in the house. Mack soon spotted the couple rush up the stairs and she put two-and-two together. "Hey guys." Kai greatest with a smile as he turned back to them, shooting Mack a subtle wink when he saw her and making her cheeks flush. "Come on in. Mi Casa es su Casa." He said, stepping to the side and holding his arm out as an invitation.

The couple ventured into the house, walking their way to the living room where around 10 of Ben's friends were sat with red solo cups in their hands all laughing at something someone had said.

"Ben! My man!" A guy called Mitchell shouted as he clapped Ben on the back, who was already smiling and greeting all his friends. The two found a place on the sofa, where Ben pulled Mack into himself further. Kai sat down on Mack's other side - not before handing both of them a drink and sending her a smirk as she looked his way. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the girl sat on a bean bag on the opposite side of the coffee table that occupied the centre of the room.

"Who wants to play truth or dare?" She slurred slightly. Cheers hollered through the room and eventually everyone had agreed. "Okay, Matthew. Who's the sexiest girl in this room?" The girl started. Matthew surveyed the room, before his eyes landed on a girl Mack new as Sophia. He bit his lip, giving her a once over and winking.

"It's gotta be Sophia, baby." He called back and the boys laugh, Sophia giggling and blushing slightly. "Right, my turn." Matthew looked over everyone until he saw Kai. "Okay, new guy. Best sex you've ever had?" Kai shook his head.

"For-fit, give me the dare, dude." His ever-present smirk was still there but he looked sheepish, almost. Lots of 'ooooo's and 'that bad?'s came from the crown of teens.

"Okay, I dare you to take off an item of clothing." Matthew orders. Kai grins and pulls his t-shirt over his head, leaving it on the floor and sitting back into the couch. Mack felt herself keep giving his toned, bare chest glances and had to stop herself, instead focusing on the next dare. She missed the first part but caught the end of it.

"Courtney, I dare you to take off your panties and give them to the guy in this room you'd be most likely to smash." Kai said with an evil smirk, looking in the direction of a blonde girl who was wearing a short black skirt and crop top. Her cheeks flushed red and she stood up, removing her underwear and shyly walking over to a guy Mack didn't know the name off. Courtney placed the fabric in his hand before sitting back down, crossing her legs awkwardly.

Mack zoned out for a while, only snapping back to reality when she heard Ben's name.

"Ben, what's the dirtiest thing you've ever done with Mack?" One of the guys asked with a sly expression. Mack looked down at her hands and twiddled her thumbs, feeling everyone's gaze on her. She drowned out Ben's response the second she heard him start.

"Well Mack does this thing with..." she didn't listen to the rest. There was a chorus of cheers and 'no way!'s before Ben settles back into the seat. "Okay babe, what's your dirtiest secret?" Ben asked, nudging her side playfully. That I want to see Kai Parker over me, she thought instantly. She shook herself out of it quickly.

"Um, pass. D-dare please." She said sheepishly.

"Okay, I dare you to take off your bra." Ben said, kissing her cheek and winking at her. Mack leant forward, reaching around her back and unclasping her bra. She pulled the material from under her shirt and threw it on the floor. She heard someone shout 'the old Mack is back!' and everyone laughed, even her. Mack felt herself grow a bit more comfortable, like she used to be. She turned to the girl that started and asked:

"Okay, Tracy, what's your biggest fear?" Tracy refuses to answer. "Fine. Down 5 shots of the strongest alcohol Kai has in the house." Kai shook his head, grinning, beside her and pushed himself up, soon returning with some shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He set them out on the table and poured the shots.

Mack's attention was drawn to Ben who started kissing her neck, moving his hand to her inner thigh.

"Let's go somewhere a little more private." He whispered in her ear, pulling the girl up to standing. He held her hand in his, dragging her away from the living room and towards the stairs. As they turned the corner Mack caught Kai's eye, who looked almost disappointed to see her leaving with her boyfriend. His look soon turned to one of sympathy and Mack gulped, turning back to look at her boyfriend who wore a dark expression.

#smut #elena gilbert #image #images #stefan salvatore #the vampire diaries #tvd #chris wood #damon salvatore #kol mikaelson #kai parker fanfic #kai parker image #kai parker x reader #kai parker smut #kai parker #tvd fanfic

22 notes · View notes

mikkomacko · 4 years

Text

Christmas Magic 4

The clouds hang low in the air, heavy and grey with the warning of an impending storm. Y/n won't admit it out loud, but she really hopes it snows so much that the carnival will be closed for a few days so she can have some time off. Being out in the cold all day has begun to take it's toll on her, leaving her dragging and aching. She always gets sick after the holidays from working and being so busy, but it seems this year it was hitting her sooner.

Her shift on stage has been switched with Kevin's because her throat was too raw to sing, leaving her to man one of the gift booths with Emma. Her fingers tremble in the cold as she hands a gift receipt to the woman across from her, wishing her a happy holidays with the best smile she can muster. She knows it doesn't reach her eyes, it doesn't even come close to her eyes but at least it's something.

"Babe, you should just go home." Emma advises gently, restocking the candy cane pens. Y/n falls onto the stool, shivering and burying her face in her scarf.

"I can't," she mumbles through the fabric, "Ophelia starts Christmas break this week and I promised Harry I'd help watch over her, and I can't do that if I have to work from taking off days today."

"Well you won't be able to watch her anyway if you're still sick. I'm sure McDreamy won't want you around his daughter." Emma points out, matter of fact-ly.

Y/n rolls her eyes, but she knows Emma has a point. She can't risk getting Ophelia sick, but she can't bail on Harry either (not that she'd ever want to).

"I'm gonna go get more tissue." Y/n grumbles, ignoring the way Emma cockily snickers behind her. Boots crunching in the snow and hood pulled high over her head, y/n finds the nearest bathroom and immediately stuffs her pockets with paper towels. They make her nose raw but she'd rather that than have a drippy nose all day.

Y/n ignores the mirror, knowing it'll just highlight her dark eyes and red nose against her pale skin and chapped lips. But the bathroom is warm, so she props her butt against the sink, back facing the mirror she's avoiding, and pulls her phone out of her coat pocket. She's got a text from Harry and the room heats up a couple degrees.

Ophelia's Papa 🌻: Dinner tonight? The little Miss (and Nipper) miss you desperately :)

She bites back her smile.

Dinner with Ophelia and Nipper?! That's tempting...

His reply comes within minutes, and she's glad he's not busy because she doesn't feel like going back to work while waiting for a reply.

Ophelia's Papa 🌻: And me too of course

Y/n tries not to giggle like a middle school girl, but she can't help herself when it comes to Harry.

Oh yeah you too, of course

She can picture his little scowl and the little wrinkle that creases between his eyebrows, remembering all the times over their past couple dates that she's longed to run her fingers over his face, smoothing out the mark.

Ophelia's Papa 🌻: Is that a yes love?

Her smile falls, knowing she shouldn't be going to have dinner with him tonight. She needs to rest so she can get better. She can't hang around when Harry and Ophelia are at risk of getting sick.

I wish I could but I've got something important I have to do tonight :( I'm really really sorry

Y/n has always hated telling people when she's sick. They always give her that concerned once-over, or rub her back like that's the cure, and tell her the same ol' "drink water, eat bananas, sleep." As if she doesn't know how to take care of herself.

Ophelia's Papa🌻: Don't be sorry, we've got a whole week to eat dinners together :)

She send him back a gif of Creed Bratton smiling widely, deciding it's time to head back outside. Her phone gets returned to her pocket, and she shuffled into the cold, sinking into her jacket as much as possible. Back at the booth, Emma is ringing up a family of four, smiling brightly at them and y/n realizes how miserable she must look next to the walking sunshine she's working with.

Emma must noticed the dejected look on her face because she pouts, nudging y/n to the corner of the tent when the wind won't hit. "You should really just go home. Clark won't mind."

She nods. Clark is a good boss, and he knows y/n loves her job and won't do anything to risk losing it. And he'd probably have a fit if he knew she were dealing with customers while being ill.

"I guess y-"

"Surprise y/n!"

Both Emma and y/n jump at the loud screech, finding two guests at the checkout counter. Harry's smiling sheepishly, his big glove clad hand cupped over the bottom half of Ophelia's face. Her eyes smile at y/n as she waves a little mitten at her.

"Didn't mean to scare you." Harry says apologetically, removing his hand from her face to push something on the counter forward. Y/n steps around Emma, heading towards them.

"Was more loud than scary." Y/n chuckles, hoping Harry can't pick up on the roughness of her voice. On the counter sits a to-go cup, the side of it marked in thick ink indicating it's a hot chocolate from "Harry and Sweets :)."

"Ophelia said you liked cinnamon on yours. I hope that's okay."

Y/n's chest pounds, the simple gesture making her realize how shitty today's been and how much she really appreciates Harry. "It-its perfect."

Y/n wraps her hands around the warm cup, lifting it up to her lips for a drink. She meets Harry's gaze, and instantly his smile falls and his eyebrows pinch together.

"Do you like it y/n?" Ophelia murmurs, swinging her feet back and forth, brushing against Harry's jeans with each swing.

"I love it Sweets, thank you so much."

Ophelia, satisfied with the answer wiggles until Harry places her on the ground, eyes not leaving y/n's face. Ophelia wanders into the tent, tip-toeing to look at the snow globes on the table to their right.

"You feeling alright?" Harry asks her, pinching the pointer finger of his right glove and tugging it off. Y/n nods, feeling embarrassed when he places his cold hand against her face. His frown deepens.

"You've got one hell of a fever love." She tries to act shocked, as if she didn't know she's been sweating but shivering the whole day, but Harry sees right through her. "Why didn't you tell me you're not feeling well?"

Y/n shrugs, taking another sip of her hot cocoa. Harry sighs, coming around the counter to stand next to her. "You should be at home, resting, with a certified nurse that can take care of you."

"I don't want to get you or Ophelia sick! That's why I couldn't come to dinner tonight!"

Harry simpers, and y/n huffs as she realizes she's given away her 'plans' for the night. "Oh, your plans were being poorly, huh?"

She rolls her eyes at his teasing tone. "No."

"No?"

"My plans were to get better tonight." She admits quietly, and Harry chuckles warmly. A grin tugs at her lips, falling into Harry when he gently coaxes her into his chest and kisses the top of her head through her coat.

"Well now your plans are to go home, pack a change of clothes, and I'll pick you up at four." He smiles innocently, bopping her nose when he opens her mouth to protest. "Doctor's orders love. You're staying in the Styles' Ward tonight."

Ophelia attaches herself to y/n's legs, tugging on her jacket so she'll look down at her. "The Styles' Ward is the best one! Daddy makes good food for the patients in there!"

"Is that so?" Y/n hums, brushing a stray curl off Ophelia's forehead.

She nods, dimples sinking into her chubby cheeks. "And he takes real good care of you?"

Y/n purses her lips, pretending to be deep in thought. "I think I'd rather have Nurse Nipper. Is he available?"

Ophelia laughs, and y/n's chest swells in pride. "Good choice. He's the best."

She squeals when Harry scoops her up, holding her bridal style and giving her a half-hearted glare. "What was that you just said?" He blows raspberries into her red cheeks, and she's laughing and squirming until he finally stops.

"Can I have a snow globe daddy?"

Y/n snorts at her way of changing the subject, peeking over her shoulder to find Emma pretending to be busy with rearranging the plushies.

"After saying Nipper's a better nurse? I don't think so Baby Cakes." Harry situates her back on his hip, pushing her bottom lip back into her mouth when she pouts. "You've got a couple at home, how many more do you need?"

"I need them all daddy." Ophelia whines, slumping against his shoulder. Harry rolls his eyes, holding back an amused smile.

"You've got yourself a handful there, Styles."

He pats the top of Ophelia's head, chest puffing out proudly. "Just like her daddy." He winks, chuckling when y/n shakes her head at the underlying message he's giving her. She quickly buries her face in her coat, hoping he can't see her blush. Harry Styles really is a handful.

The knock on her door is expected, as is the man and five year old behind it, even if they're a little earlier than she thought they'd be. Still manages a smile, despite feeling as if she's been run over by a small car.

"We're gonna have a sleepover!" Ophelia screams, barreling from behind Harry's legs and through the door. Harry lunges forward to try and grab her but she's quicker than him, disappearing behind y/n. "Ophelia Jewel!" Harry calls scoldingly but y/n shushes him.

"S'okay. Glad she's excited to be here." Behind her Ophelia bursts into giggles about something and she wonders what the little one happened to find.

"Still not polite." Harry mutters, following her into the apartment. He takes off his boots at the door, lining them up against the wall before grabbing the little pair of Chelseas that are haphazardly kicked off. "She let's her curiosity get the best of her sometimes."

Y/n shrugs in a "kids-will-be-kids-" kind of way, shutting and locking the door behind her. Ophelia giggles again, pulling both their attentions to where she's sat herself on the couch, y/n's couch blanket thrown by her feet and watching the Goofy Movie.

"Goofy huh?" She doesn't have to look at Harry to see his smirk.

She scoffs, defensive. "It's funny."

A hearty laugh, the perfect little guffaw Goofy makes cuts through the room, and Ophelia's squealing in laughter on the couch. Y/n to Harry, who's just smiling at her bashfully.

"Did you just?"

Harry answers her with another guffaw, Adams's apple bobbing in his neck from the impression. Y/n can't help but laugh and Harry snorts into his normal rumble of a chuckle.

"Daddy," Ophelia giggles, bringing his attention to where she's sprawled out in the warm spot of the couch that y/n had been laying on. "stop being Goofy. You're Harry, not Goofy."

Harry falls onto the couch next to her, leaning back so he's squishing her and she shoves with all her might at his shoulders but Harry doesn't budge. "Daddy! No, I'm going to pop!"

Y/n and Harry chuckle, Harry finally moving to the chair next to the couch so Ophelia can relax again. Y/n watches her wiggle her sock covered feet under the blanket, kicking and squirming until it's covered up to her knees. Chuckling quietly, y/n pulls the blanket up to Ophelia's chest.

"You ready to go?" Harry asks her, fondly looking over her. She wonders if he saw her tuck Ophelia in and the thought of him looking at her like that for caring for his child makes her giddy.

"Finish the movie first daddy." Ophelia grumbles. Harry sighs, but he's still smiling when y/n squishes into the chair with him. He throws his arm around her, brushing hair out of her face.

"Did you take some medicine?" Harry murmurs in her ear, breath hot on her skin. Y/n hums a yes, eyes stuck on the TV until Harry quietly guffaws in her ear, and then she's giggling, turning to look at him. He presses a chaste kiss to her lips, making her still and look over at Ophelia worriedly. She doesn't know how Ophelia feels about sharing Harry, and maybe they shouldn't be so open in front of her in case she doesn't like it.

"She's fine love," Harry assures her, combing his fingers through her hair. "She's just fine."

Her stomach twists with apprehension, but she trusts Harry to know his daughter, so she just nods and relaxes back into the chair next to him. She can't help but giggle every time he gets whiney for attention and guffaws in her ear, smiling proudly when she beams at him.

The electrical fireplace hummed lowly through the small living room, heat wafting off of it and warming y/n. Blinking sleep from her eyes, she takes in the now dim lighting, and the re-run of Modern Family playing on the tv. Judging by how dark the room is, Ophelia is already in bed and Harry's probably already cleaned up the kitchen. Confirming her thoughts, Harry let's out a quiet snicker from the bottom of the couch, and she realizes her feet are propped up in his lap.

He doesn't see her move, too focused on the TV in front of him. His bottom lip is squished between his teeth, trying to hide the smile his dimples are giving away, and his eyes are shining with the light of the TV. The fire flickers, casting dark shadows over the orange glow of his face, and he reaches up to rub his knuckle against his nose as y/n shifts onto her back. Harry's head turns towards her, teeth finally releasing his lips into a sweet smile.

"Hey, you're up." He states quietly, massaging her foot through the thick blanket over her. She nods, swallowing a couple times because her mouth is so dry from sleeping with it open. "How are we feeling? We need more medicine?"

He gets up before she can answer, moving to sit on the edge of the coffee table so he can see her face more clearly. A hand comes up to her forehead, and she realizes that a thin layer of sweat is covering her skin and Harry's fingers are awfully cold.

"Can't breathe." Y/n croaks, shying away from his icy touch. Harry gives her a sympathetic frown, pushing himself up from the table.

"Let's get you moved to the bed and some cold medicine in you, okay?" Harry mururms, peeling the blankets off of her. He helps her up, hand on her lower back as he guides her through his dark apartment. Ophelia's door is cracked as they pass by, and y/n can faintly hear a music box playing inside. It makes her smile, eyes feeling heavy again. Harry's room is just as warm as the living room, the blankets of his huge fluffy bed pulled back, and he's left the curtains in front of his window open, so the soft street light spills in.

"I'm sleeping by the window," Harry warns playfully, chuckling when she pouts. "don't need you getting any sicker because you got cold."

"But what if you get cold?" Y/n retorts, falling onto his bed face first. Harry laugh, picking her legs up and swinging them onto the bed.

"Won't." He says simply, pulling the blankets up and tucking her in once she's flipped over onto her back. Harry feels her forehead again, brushing her baby hairs back and then he's leaning down to kiss the apple of her cheek.

"I'll be right back, love." Harry promises, and then he's disappearing through the doorway, leaving her in his bed with sore teeth, a stuffy nose, and a dry throat. Y/n huffs, brow furrowing when the air soothes her throat. She tilts her head up, looking around the room. In the corner, humming quietly she finds an old humidifier, white wisps flowing up into the room. The thought of Harry going through this all trouble to make her feel better has her veins rushing with heat, and she stops shivering, instead taking deep gulps of air into her lungs.

She doesn't realize her head's fallen to the pillows nor that her eyes have shut until Harry's disturbing her with a small chuckle. "What are you doing with your mouth open like that?"

"Humidifier," she hums, pointing lazily in the direction of the humming. "feels good on my throat."

Harry says something she doesn't catch but she's too tired to ask him to repeat himself, instead sitting up onto her elbows to take the medicine Harry's brought in. He drops a few pills in her hand, two of them definitely being Advil and the other some kind of gel medicine. Y/n huffs as she realizes she needs to sit up to drink water, moving until she's leaning against the headboard and taking the reusable Starbucks cup Harry's holding out. He watches her intently as she takes a drink, holding the water in her mouth and popping the pills between a small gap in her lips, swallowing all of them with a little grimace.

"You take your medicine backwards love." Harry comments, crawling over her and falling onto his shoulder with a grunt.

"No you do."

Harry snorts, wiggling his feet under the blankets and sinking down until they cover up to his knees. Y/n, grinning softly at the habit Harry shares with his daughter, pulls the blankets the rest of the way up. Harry let's her settle against his chest, both of them tilted to look out of the window, at the soft piles of snow building up on the ledge and the neighboring building.

She doesn't know what makes her say it. It could be the warmth of the room, or the warmth of him. It could be the way his heart pounds under her ear or how he's tenderly running the pads of his fingers over her shoulder. Whatever it is, she can't stop thinking of him. He's like a dream. An absolute perfect dream with his fluffy hair and soft pink Cupid's bow, his eyes that are far too pretty to not be considered Eden, the dark ink that decorates his soft body. The body that hugs and kisses and protects Ophelia, that's made up half of her DNA, that is so dedicated to his daughter the love practically pours out of him. She wants to be a part of that with him. She wants to be the other hand he holds, the other nose he dots kisses on, the other girl he loves with his whole being.

"I can't believe how lucky I am."

Harry doesn't flinch at her words like she thought he might, instead he just hums a quiet, "What's that?"

Her fingers trace over the laurel on his hip, eyes intently focused on the mark. "I'm lucky. Because I get to lay here with you, and-and I get to eat dinner with you and Ophelia, and just be with you two. You could've picked anyone in the world to have here with you and I can't believe it's me."

She tears her gaze away from his abdomen when she feels him look down at her, and the little double chin he's got paired with the endeared gloss in his eyes makes her insides puddle.

"Is this the cold talking or do you really think you're the lucky one here?"

He cracks a smile when she rolls her eyes. "I'm not delusional or drugged, Harry. I just really really like you. Even if you might be a little too McDreamy for me."

Harry's hand comes up to her face, cradling it like she were made of the snow falling just outside their window. "You're the dream here. I can't tell you how many nights I laid in this same spot, hearing her snore through the walls, thinking this is how it's always going to be. That I was always going to be going to bed alone."

Eyes fluttering, she nuzzles into his warm palm. "You don't know how amazing you are huh?" Lazily, y/n manages to climb into his lap, plushy thighs cradling his hips and hands slipping up his chest to rest on his collarbones. "You're so sweet, taking care of me when I'm not even your responsibility, and you're so handsome as like just a guy, but then you're also a dad and that's even more attractive-"

Harry's cackles cuts her off, and it's so loud she has to throw her fingers over his mouth to keep him from waking his daughter. Eyes crinkled, he peels her hand off, bringing it back to his chest. "Got a thing for dads?" He asks, his teasing smirk shining in her eyes.

"No," she mumbles, blushing. "just this dad, I guess."

Her words morph the smirk into a sweet smile, the kind that looks like he might be holding back from growing too big but his dimples once again give him away. Harry breathes a deep sigh, looking over her face like he can't find the words he's trying to say.

"What?"

Her soft encouragement breaks it out of him. "I-I want you to be one of my responsibilities, if that's what you want."

As if all the heat from her fever had magically gathered in her belly, her stomach warms to the point it's almost unbarable. She can't look away from him, eyes stuck in whatever trance his are pulling her in with. It's when his hands cup her face that she realizes what he's asked.

"You ask all your patients to be your girlfriend?"

Harry simpers, shaking his head softly. "Not a patient, love. You're my y/n, right?"

Butterflies flutter around her chest, a smile taking over her face and all she can manage is a measly nod, too overwhelmed by the beaming grin on Harry's cheeks. She falls forward with a giggle that ends up making her cough, Harry rubbing her back as she tries to catch her breath on his shoulder.

"We okay?"

She nods again, hands worming their way under his torso as she clinges to him like a koala. "Perfect."

Harry has to run the store the next morning, briefly waking y/n to give her more medicine and then she's drifting in and out of sleep as he carries an unconscious Ophelia into the room, laying her on his side of the bed. He tucks the blankets around them again, kissing Ophelia on the head and letting y/n know in a whisper that he'll be back in a bit.

It's around a half hour later when both her and Ophelia finally wake up, Ophelia grumbling and yawning as she peers at y/n through bright green eyes. "Goofy Movie?" She simply asks, tilting her head so the mess of tangled curls on her head bounce.

"Sure thing Sweets."

They move to the living room, sitting on the floor against the couch and pulling up the movie on Disney+. Ophelia insists she's not hungry, laying on y/n's shoulder and laughing at everything Goofy says. Y/n is on the verge of falling back asleep when Ophelia pats her thigh.

"Max doesn't have his mom." Ophelia says timidly, and the seriousness of her voice chills y/n's bones.

"No, but he's got the best dad, doesn't he?" Y/n offers, knowing Ophelia's thinking about her not having her mother either.

"Yeah," Ophelia agrees, squirming closer to y/n. "but no one ever talks about his mom. I don't have mine either and everybody talks about it."

Panic floods her chest, heart thumping nervously. What's she supposed to tell her? What has Harry told her? Does Ophelia even know who her mom is?

"They do?"

Ophelia nods, moving so she's laying her head on y/n's thigh. "Josh asked why I don't talk about my mom, and when I said I don't have a mom he told me I was weird. All kids have mom's."

"Did you tell your daddy?"

Ophelia shakes her head. "Daddy's always said that he loves me enough for two parents so it's not weird because love is love, no matter who it comes from."

It's a terribly sweet thing to say, and probably the best way to assure a child that they're equally loved, but y/n can tell she's reluctant to believe it. She remembers being that age and wondering why she didn't have the same family as everyone else.

"Well when I was a kid, I didn't have my mom either." Y/n's confession widens Ophelia's eyes, and she sits up to look at y/n in awe.

"You didn't?" She breathes, and y/n thinks Ophelia didn't know that other kids don't always have a mom and dad.

She shakes her head, smiling because Ophelia needs to know it's okay, it doesn't make her sad to just have her father. "She passed away when I was a tiny tiny baby, so I just a daddy too. And he's the best, I never felt like I needed a mom because he was good enough for two."

"Do you miss her?"

"I used to, but I never really knew her so I think I just missed the fact that I could've had a mom. But like I said, I'm happy and I had a great daddy. And you do too, huh Sweets?"

Ophelia giggles as if remembering what a funny, wonderful father she has, and nods. "I do have a good daddy."

"And he loves you so much."

Ophelia climbs into her lap, little fingers playing with the ends of y/n's hair. She looks at y/n through her eyelashes, blinking shyly. "Do you?"

Her heart melts in the warmth of Ophelia's voice, nodding with a tender smile. "Of course I do. What's not to love?"

With her fever finally gone and sinuses cleared up enough to allow her to breathe, y/n felt shiny and new, sprawled out on Harry's bed, looking out at the Christmas lights in the snow. She can hear him talking to Ophelia through the walls, muffled and unintelligible as he puts her to bed. She's humming softly, falling into a peaceful trance until Harry's entering the room, closing the door behind him and rushing to the bed. She only gets the chance to sit up before he's hovering over her, mouth claiming hers in a heated kiss.

Her mouth parts in shock, hands freezing on his shoulders until her mind catches up with her and she's pulling away from his insistent mouth. "You're gonna get sick? What-what are you doing?"

Harry stares down at her with a look she's never seen before, but she sure doesn't mind the way it captivates her. "You told her you love her? You love my baby?"

Y/n falters, not knowing what to say. He's not mad, obviously, but she's still absolutely terrified that she overstepped. Maybe it wasn't her place to talk to Ophelia about parents but it seemed right, and Ophelia did ask her. "Y-yeah. I'm sorry, she was-"

Harry cuts her off with another strong kiss, cupping her face in his right hand. They're both breathless when they part. "You're so good," he mutters like he's talking to himself. "so fucking good. I don't-I can't believe I-" He interrupts himself by pecking kisses to her jaw and neck, panting hotly into her skin. Her hands slip around his torso, clinging to his strong back as he mumbles to himself in her neck.

"Harry!" Y/n gasps, belly tingling when he swipes his tongue over the vein on the side of her throat. Harry's hips jut forward into hers, her thighs tightening around his when she feels his hard member through his sweatpants.

"Fuck, sounds so good." Harry grunts, nibbling on that same spot. He earns another moan from her, her ankles crossing behind his butt and he ruts into her again. Warmth floods to her core, tummy clenching when Harry's cock perfectly bumps her clit.

Her brain swirls in her head, eyes fluttering shut with each moan and gasp that Harry pulls from her. Maybe it's not practical that they're already doing this, but it's Harry and she trusts him. She trusts him more than she's ever trusted anyone before. "Harry please!"

Her begging encourages a deep groan from him, one that has wetness pooling in her underwear and Harry continuously grinds his hips down into hers. He's slipping his fingers under the waistband of her bottoms when he moves to look at her. His cheeks are pink, pupils blown wide and lips swollen as he pants. He's beautiful, so fucking beautiful, even with the frustrated wrinkles on his face.

"I don't-I don't have protection." He breathes dejectedly, slowing the movement of his shallow humps. "I just, I haven't done this in bloody fucking years so I don't-"

"Its okay," y/n assures, leaning up to kiss him. Maybe it's good they don't have condoms. Maybe they should talk about this before they have sex, because they can't just think about themselves, they have to think about Ophelia and how this could affect all of them. "we can just do this, still do this please."

Harry whimpers pathetically at her pleading, head dropping forward into her shirt covered chest. He moves his hand under it, lifting it up and over her head. She immediately does the same, Harry grinding into her harder as he takes in the sight of her half naked.

"You're so beautiful," he husks, kissing her collarbones. "letting me have you like this, love on you. Sweet girl."

Y/n didn't think she had a praise kink, but Harry's sweet words are definitely winding her up more than they should. The coil in her stomach twists and twists, legs clenching and veins tingling. Harry grunts more compliments to her, punctuating each one with a borderline painful thrust against her clit, until white is blowing up behind her eyes and Harry has to quiet her with his tongue in his mouth. She still trembling, shocks of pleasure running through her veins when Harry stills, a deep drawn out groan bubbling out from deep in his chest. He stays against her as they come down, mumbling broken curse words under his breath and y/n can't help but giggle happily at him.

He opens his eyes to look at her, beaming and giddy as he pecks her mouth. Y/n kisses him again, tenderly combing her fingers through his hair and Harry rocks his sensitive cock against her again.

"Harry I don't think you can get hard again." Y/n laughs.

He chuckles, lifting himself off of her and onto the bed. "Was just enjoying the first orgasm I've had with someone else since I was in college." The awe and pure joy in his tone makes her soft, rolling over onto his chest and pecking kisses onto the swallow tattoo closest to her.

"Mmm dirty boy." She teases, playfully biting his skin. "You're someone's father, you know that?"

"Dad's deserve sex too baby."

She snorts, resting her cheek against his chest. He rubs her shoulder like he had the night before and she resumes her mindless humming, eyes growing heavy. She doesn't know how Harry hasn't gotten up to change out of his cum filled pants, but her brain is too foggy to ask. Seconds away from falling asleep she here's him let out a disbelieving chuckle, followed by a quiet "definitely need condoms."

She can't muster a laugh but she manages to pinch at his side, fading into sleep as Harry's giggle rings in her ears.

#christmas magic #harry styles #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles imagine #fluff #single dad harry #daddy harry #daddy harry styles #dad harry #dad harry styles #doctor Harry #Smut

173 notes · View notes

littlemisslol-fic · 4 years

Link

All's fair in love and war.

Heheh I had fun with this one! Today was inspired by my good friend Jigg who did a lot of absolutely hilarious drawings of Protective-Big-Brother-Eugene a month or so ago! I've always wanted to write something with that concept after she posted it, and bless I finally got my chance!! If you're not following her insta GO DO THAT YOU FOOL <3

@alistairwrites I had HELLA fun with this prompt today lmao

“You’re the love of my life.”

“I know, you’re not very subtle.”

There’s a pause, before Varian looks up from his book with an arched brow, waiting for Hugo to respond. Hugo, sitting on the other end of the couch, smiles with a sense of forced innocence. His feet twitch from their place on Varian’s lap; the smile grows more strained.

“What’s your angle?” Varian asks, poking his nose back into his book. “Or, better question, what did you break?”

“I’m heartbroken that you assume that of me! Goggles, please, how could you say that about me?”

“Hugo.”

“I want to mess with Rider.”

Varian looks back up, noting the mischievous grin starting to split Hugo’s face. “Eugene?” He asks, “Why?”

“Haven’t you seen him lately?” Hugo snickers, “Every time I get within three feet of you, he looks ready to burst a blood vessel.”

Varian pauses to think, chewing on his lip. “Really?” He finally says, closing his book and tossing it onto a nearby table. “I didn’t notice…”

And he hadn’t, not really. It had only been a few months since they’d come back from the library, hand in hand and ready to face the world together. Rapunzel had taken it well, but Eugene… well admittedly Eugene hadn’t taken the news of Varian dating an ex-associate of his with grace. The older man had very loudly demanded to know why Varian had to choose that one, as opposed to some nice, wholesome noble, but Varian hadn’t taken the bait. Because this one’s mine, he’d said to the man, and that had supposedly been the end of it.

Supposedly.

“Has he been saying things to you?” Varian asks, his tone dropping. “If he’s said something that wasn’t okay I can-”

“No, no, nothing like that, Sweetcheeks.” Hugo’s hands fly up in a placating manner. “I just like to watch him get twitchy.”

“Is that why you were hanging off of me after dinner last night?” Varian asks with a huff, thinking back to the sudden PDA of the night before. While Hugo was always one for contact, it had been excessive.

“Testing the hypothesis.” Hugo nods, looking sage. Varian’s fully laughing now, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. He can see Hugo bite his lip to keep from laughing too, but the tears in his eyes make the room swirl.

“And-” The giggles grow uncontrollable. “And what were the results? Did you write them down? Make me a chart and present your findings.”

“The results were very promising.” Hugo finally breaks, his own laughs joining Varian. The blond stretches, moving his feet so he can lean closer to his boyfriend. Varian lets Hugo enter his space, leaning up for a chaste kiss. “And he really did pull some amazingly offended faces when I touched your ass-”

“Okay, that’s enough of that!” Varian near screams, shoving Hugo’s pouting face away from him. “No, no more, you ruined it.”

“But if I asked-”

“What’s in it for me?”

Hugo pauses, thinking. “I’ll proclaim my eternal love for you?” He offers, to which Varian rolls his eyes.

“You already do that daily.”

“What about taking the trash panda for a walk?”

“Ruddiger hates you.”

Hugo grits his teeth, jaw tensing. Varian perks, giggling again as Hugo spits out the next words. The blond knows exactly what will get Varian to agree, much as it’s going to cost him.

“What if I cleaned the beakers for the next week?”

“Make it two.” Varian’s crying with laughter again, refusing to look at his devastated boyfriend lest he break entirely.

“One and a half.”

Varian wipes at his eyes, nodding. “Deal,” He gasps between laugh, forcing the words out. “Deal, deal.”

Hugo leans forwards with a groan, using Varian’s lap as a pillow. “You drive a hard bargain, sweetcheeks,” the blond moans dramatically. “But I guess that’s why I love you.”

“Damn straight.” Varian snickers, leaning down to press a kiss to Hugo’s head. The blond’s face lights up at the contact, a small blush scattering across pale cheeks. Varian does it again, just to see that smile grow.

“Now, how are we going to play this?”

They start small.

Testing the waters, as Hugo had called it. Small things here and there, nothing really unusual for the two of them, to be honest. A glance here, a touch there, a kiss that lasted just a smidge too long. Varian kept half an eye on Eugene, noting with delight that Hugo was, in fact, right. The older man’s face was constantly contorted into either disgust or rage every time Varian and Hugo got a little too close to each other, the man glaring at Hugo consistently when he thought Varian wasn’t looking.

Hypothesis confirmed, they’d taken it up a notch.

“You’re my everything,” Varian coos from his spot half-on-half-off of Hugo’s lap. “I love you more than life itself.”

His boyfriend bites his lip to keep from laughing, reaching up to cup Varian’s face with both his hands. “You’re my sun and moon,” Hugo plays up the last few words with a kiss to Varian’s nose, nearly bursting out laughing when it scrunches.

From the corner of his eye, Varian can see Eugene’s hands twitch.

They’re in the library, Varian, Hugo, Eugene, and Rapunzel. The evil of the week had crawled out from under whatever rock it had been living beneath, and Rapunzel had asked for Varian’s help to try and stop it- but that didn’t stop the alchemist from seizing the chance to mess with his big brother. Multitasking was something he prides himself on, of course.

Varian and Hugo snuggle close on an ornate chaise together, nearly plastered together in a way that makes Rapunzel squeal and Eugene rage.

“Wanna tone down the PDA, goggles?” He grumps, flipping though a book roughly. “Go be gross somewhere else, if you’re not going to help-”

“Oh, Eugene.” Rapunzel chastises from her perch on a nearby chair. “Just let them have their fun, they’re not hurting anyone.”

“They’re hurting my soul.” Varian hears Eugene grumble to himself, and has to push a giggle into Hugo’s shoulder. The blond isn’t much better- and Hugo’s always been one to push the limits. Varian feels hands slip down from his face and onto his hips; the grip is still chaste, but solid as Hugo pulls him close and hooks his chin over Varian’s head.

“You’re the light of my life,” Hugo proclaims, “My heart, my soul-”

“I’ve loved you since the moment we met!” Varian pumps his words with drama, flinging his arms around Hugo’s shoulders and holding tight. “Since I laid eyes on you-”

“You’re my everything.” Hugo… sounds a little more serious this time. Varian pauses, looking into somber, green eyes. “I owe you so much more than I can ever give.”

“I love you.” Varian says into Hugo’s shoulder, ignoring how Eugene makes a noise like an angry cat. “So much.”

“I love you too,” Hugo murmurs. Varian feels a kiss pressed into the top of his head, sighing at the contact. Something in him warms; even if they’re just playing up the schmoopy garbage to annoy Eugene, it’s still nice to hear affirmations of love from his boyfriend.

“Okay, that’s it!” Eugene shouts, slamming his book down. It startles everyone else in the room, all of them looking at the grumpy man. “Goggles, glasses, with me, c’mon.” He points an accusatory finger at the two on the couch before roughly pushing back from the table. He stalks deeper into the library, not looking back to see if they follow. Varian chances a glance towards Rapunzel, who only shrugs with a what can you do expression on her face.

Varian sighs and gets up as well, holding out a hand to help Hugo up. “I think we might have pushed too far.” He mutters, gripping tightly to Hugo’s hand.

“Nah,” Hugo grins, an easy, simple thing. “He’s just being a sourpuss.”

Varian can’t help but snicker again, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, but it’s not going to matter when he stabs you.”

“I will take my stabbing with grace if it means I get to stay with you.” Hugo simpers, his face twisted in an over-the-top pout. The shorter boy shoves him away with a laugh, turning down the row of shelves he’d seen Eugene disappear into.

The man stands there, arms crossed, tapping his foot with a put-upon expression. Varian’s hand goes a little tight as it grips Hugo’s, just enough to give away his stress at the sight of how aggravated Eugene is. There’s an awkward silence for at least half a minute, the older man glaring at the two alchemists, who remain quiet.

“Why are we here, exactly?” Hugo finally cracks the silence in half. Varian steps on his foot with a glare, shaking his head as Eugene’s face grows darker.

“I need another book.” The man grumbles, “And I don’t trust you not to be weird while alone with Rapunzel.”

“Eugene it’s not like that,” Varian sighs, “We’re just mess-”

“Book. Please.” Eugene grunts, gesturing to a tall ladder on rolling wheels. It’s closest to Varian, so the youngest of the three rolls his eyes and drops Hugo’s hand, climbing up the ladder with a grumble that’s sounds suspiciously like stupid old man before he’s too far up to be heard anymore.

And that’s when Eugene strikes.

“Hands off of goggles, capiche?” The man jabs a finger into Hugo’s chest. “I know he likes you for now, but hands. Off.”

“Or what?” Hugo challenges, delighting in how Eugene turns a wonderful shade of purple. “We both know you can’t do shit while Varian’s-”

A sudden shriek cuts them off. Both their heads snap upwards just in time to watch Varian’s foot slip off the rung of the ladder, the boy dropping like a stone. Hugo’s got his arms out before he can think, lunging forwards-

A body slams into his own-

Eugene and Hugo, having slammed into each other when both had tried for a catch, tumble to the floor in a mess of limbs and shouted curses. Hugo feels a sudden pain flair up his side-

Varian’s cry cuts off with a strangled noise as he falls directly on top of the two men tangled together on the floor. Hugo and Eugene shout as Varian’s weight hits them, both of them losing any sort of air they might have had in their lungs. The three lie together on the floor, groaning at the various aches and pains, breathing heavily. Varian’s the first to move, rolling off the pile with a small wince. Hugo’s up like a shot, borderline scrambling towards his boyfriend with barely contained worry.

“Shit- you good, goggles?” He stumbles over the words just like he stumbles over Eugene’s legs, pale hands flying up to cup Varian’s face. Varian nods quickly, his own hands reaching for Hugo’s shoulders.

“Fine, fine, I’m okay,” Varian says quickly, “Are you-”

“I’m good,” Hugo sighs, “By the Maker, that was a hell of a drop, are you sure…?”

A sudden groan from the floor has both boys looking towards Eugene, the man still lying prone on the hardwood.

“I’m okay too,” The man says, not looking up from where his face is pressed into the floorboards. “Thanks for asking.”

Varian has the heart to look sheepish, though Hugo just glares. Eugene doesn’t seem to want to move, even when Varian slinks closer to offer an olive branch in the form of a hand to help him up.

“C’mon, Eugene.” Varian says, “We’ll stop, if it’s really a big enough deal-”

Hugo makes an offended noise. Varian shoots him a look. Eugene grumbles, shaking his head.

“Why, of all the eligible bachelors, did you pick that one?” He says, less asking Varian and more bemoaning the universe as a whole. Varian bites his lip to keep from laughing, offering a pat of consolation to Eugene’s shoulder.

“Because I like that one.” Varian wheedles, “Just like Rapunzel likes you.”

Eugene pauses. He finally turns his head, making a noise that sounds like a drawn out, whiney, ehhhhhhhhhhhh noise. Varian’s shoulders hitch in a laugh, the alchemist biting his knuckle. “That’s a low blow, kid.” The man grumbles, glaring at the boy without much fire.

“But?” Oh, Varian’s enjoying this.

“But I guess I can leave you and glasses alone- if you promise to tone down the gross lovey stuff.”

“That can be arranged-” Varian agrees, just as Hugo butts in with a “I promise nothing.”

Varian sighs, but smiles as Eugene takes his hand. A look at Hugo has the blond grabbing Eugene’s other arm, the two alchemists helping the older man to his feet.

“You’re both heathens.” Eugene grumbles, fixing his hair with the pout. “And I hate you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Hugo mutters. “And your hair’s thinning.”

“Hi guys!” Rapunzel’s head pokes around the corner, a bright smile taking over. All of their spines go ramrod straight, the three of them snapping to attention. “Stop your lollygagging, we can’t keep waiting around!”

When she disappears around the corner, they all slump with a sigh. “Can we put a pin in this?” Varian asks, following the princess. “You two can hate each other after the kingdom’s safe.”

When he disappears around the corner, the two men glare at each other once more.

“Truce?” Eugene asks through grit teeth.

“For now.” Hugo replies, tense as a bowstring.

For now would have to do.

#varigo #varian #tangled the series #tts #fic #SERIOUSLY PLEASE GO FOLLOW JIGG SHE'S MY FAVORITE PERSON #HER ART IS GOD AND HER VARIGO MAKES ME SOFT

4 notes · View notes

penninstitute · 4 years

Text

Case #9981121

Statement of Naila Pesti, regarding her old dentist. Original statement given November 21st, 1998.

I've never really liked going to the dentist. It's awkward, right? They have you open your mouth, they stick their tools in, and then they start to talk to you. Like, hello? I have several metal sticks and tools in my mouth right now scraping at my teeth or whatever and you expect me to hold a conversation with you?

At least, it used to be awkward. I prefer a chatty dentist to… this last one I had.

I'd been going to Aspen Dental for the longest time. My dad brought me there as a teenager, and I just kinda, y'know, never really switched to another service. Like, sure, it's kind of a chain, and they try to sell you braces or something every time you go, but it was simple enough and I just never really felt like trying anywhere else?

At least until I moved to Arlington, Ohio, and, uh, there was actually a place right in town that I could go to. It was better than driving about half an hour to go to the dentist when I could just walk five minutes or drive two.

I'll just, uh, get right into it. About three weeks ago I had an appointment with them, and when I went in, the place was practically empty. Bare-bones waiting room, there were like, three uncomfortable chairs tucked against one wall and a shitty, wobbly table with a few old, old magazines sitting on it. There was one receptionist, and she barely even spoke to me, just checked me in and told me the doctor would be out to see me soon.

I sat there for maybe an hour. The receptionist was on the phone for most of it. Barely looked my way. There was nobody else in there except for me. There was no TV, or speakers or anything, so I was just sitting in silence, listening to the receptionist mutter quietly into the phone.

I ended up playing games on my phone for most of the waiting time. Started out at 70%, ended up at like, 22%, it was real bad.

Eventually the doctor came out--Dr. Nabatov, I think his name was? Called me in, smiled at me real creepily.

It was really weird. Like, there was nothing wrong with the smile, from what I could tell, it just didn't… sit right on his face, y'know? Like, it'd be fine on anyone except him, maybe. He seemed like a friendly guy! Maybe he just… smiled too wide, or… I dunno, it seemed like he had too many teeth, which would explain… later.

For the most part, the appointment was fine. I mean, it was standard stuff. Got my teeth cleaned, all that fun boring dentist stuff that everyone fucking hates. Seriously, fuck dentists! I don't want to tell you about my day, and even if I did, I can't, because you're shoving tools in my mouth.

Anyways. Sorry. I'm really bitter about that today, for some reason.

Towards the end, he said he had this extra service they do, just as a little thank you for customers, since supposedly they don't get a lot of business these days.

I should've asked more questions. I was expecting like, free toothpaste or something. He said it was free of charge, and I just kind of… said sure, I should have asked about it at least, I just… I dunno, I was tired, and was hardly paying attention already, I don't know why I agreed.

It's… this next part is a bit fuzzy. I remember the first part very clearly, though.

Dr. Nabatov opened his mouth, and ripped a tooth out.

There was no blood. What there was, however, was a thick, oily black substance that dripped out with the tooth. I couldn't move. I was terrified.

He pressed the tooth into my arm. This is where it all gets fuzzy. It hurt, but it didn't open a wound or anything. One moment, the tooth was pressed up against my skin, the next, it was embedded in it, like it had grown from my arm this entire time.

He did this a few more times until there were about a dozen teeth embedded in my arm. Just jutting out, white and pristine, regular human teeth. His mouth didn't look like he'd ripped any teeth out at all. When he smiled at me again, he beamed, and it looked like there were dozens and dozens of teeth in his mouth, and I'm amazed I didn't vomit right then and there.

He told me to be careful of the "implanting site" and said that the mouth would come in soon, probably two to four weeks. Rolled up his sleeves to show me his arms, which were covered in mouths filled with these teeth. He made them grin at me, told me I should be pleased with the results, this looked to be the best one he'd done all month.

I don't know how I didn't scream. I just stuttered out a numb "thanks", got up, and walked out. Didn't even pay. They didn't charge me.

I ran all the way home and pretty much puked the moment I got inside. I, uh, cut the teeth out of my arm. I don't remember a lot of it. I ended up at the hospital, said I'd had an accident while cooking, I didn't… say anything about the teeth, obviously. What do you even say?

My arm itches, now, more than it hurts. Maybe I'm just paranoid about it, but I'm worried that just taking the teeth out didn't do anything to stop… whatever he did.

I… have the teeth, if you want them. I doubt you do, but I'll… I'll leave them with you anyways. I don't want to look at them again. I should've just thrown them away.

FOLLOW-UP NOTES

- The Dr. Nabatov described in this statement seemingly does not exist. While it was hard to find records due to a lack of a first name, there were no records of a dentist with that last name working in Arlington, Ohio, around the time this statement was given.

- The statement giver supposedly left the teeth with us, but there were no attachments for the case file found in Artifact Storage. I don’t want to know what happened to them, if I’m being honest.

- Additionally, Ms. Pesti could not be reached for a follow-up interview. She was reported missing June 8th, 1999, and has not been seen since.

- While her disappearance would seem unrelated, it is notable that the only thing out of order found in her home after her disappearance, was the fact that a full set of adult human teeth was found sitting on the kitchen table. No blood or viscera attached, just the teeth. I don’t think I want to know what happened there, either.

#statement #9981121 #tma #the magnus archives #body horror

15 notes · View notes

gencat21 · 5 years

Text

Unexpected • Lee Taeyong (1)

(I did not give the boyfriend a name, not worth it haha.)

Autumn is just beautiful, watching the trees turn orange and how the floor was often full of their leaves was the most pretty and annoying thing for you. You love the cold breeze hitting your face, love the taste of coffee on your tongue, and love walking peacefully with your boyfriend talking about how your day has gone before going to the next class in half an hour. "I may be getting a good job as a music teacher. My piano teacher has been recommending me to a lot of people and after winning that competition last summer I've been getting a lot of emails. Also, a company contacted me, and they are interested in the songs I've written." You explain with enthusiasm, while he observed you with that smile of his.

"My little future Beethoven. Everybody wants you. But not as much as I do." He gets closer to kiss your forehead sweetly, but your thoughts are somewhere else, keeping you to react to his sweetness.

"There's even an offer abroad. Can you believe that?"

His smile turn softly to a straight line while he looks at you in disbelief. He wanted to smile for you, but he can't fake a smile. "Are you really considering that one?"

"It's on the states, but it's the best offer I've ever gotten."

"You really are, wow." He steps backward and laughs ironically. "I mean so little to you that you take that decision without even consulting it with me?" And your mouth fells open at how mad he was getting by the second. You were expecting to see him happy for you, after all it was an offer that you couldn't turn down.

"You don't have to get mad about this," you say sweetly so he would calm down, but he was looking somewhere else with a frown, which was starting to make you mad as well. "I have time to think about until graduation but I won't be turning that one down just because you want me to."

"How can you be so selfish?" And with that your sweet side disappear in the thin air. He was really saying that to you as if he wasn't thinking about his own words and you think it's useless to talk to him right now because he was getting madder.

"I have classes right now."

"Your class starts in 25 minutes."

"Well, I left a piano in the dance room, and the teacher needs it." That's wasn't a lie. So you take your leave trying to brush your boyfriend off your mind, but you were still thinking about the conversation you just had. "Calling me selfish when he was being selfish too, who does he even think he is? He's not my father, is the freaking crazy." You ramble while walking obviously mad to the practice room hating the fact that you left it there this morning. Why did you agree to play piano on the ballet presentation one week away? Yes, it was going to make everything more beautiful, but now you had more things to do.

You find Ten on the way and stop ranting to approach him without saying anything. You hold his wrist and continue walking, deciding by yourself that he was going to help you to move the keyboard from one side of campus to the other. "Why are you so mad today? Are you going to kill me?" He asks with that smile you loved and hated, he smiles way too much. A beautiful smile like that should be totally illegal.

"I hate men,"

"Are you becoming lesbian now?"

"No, women judge way too much. I hate them as well." You end up saying and laugh because of the conversation.

"Where are you taking me? Our class is the other way."

"Just help me move the keyboard, I will pay you back with fruit."

"But I hate fruits,"

"I know,"

"If you give me fruits I will throw it at you. But I'll accept tea." You like him as a friend. You've always wondered why you both weren't actually closer since he was a sweet and nice person to be around. But you had two different lives, so you just were glad that you both had a lot of classes in common, and that was enough for you. He made classes shorter by sitting with you, and you were thankful. Shortly, you both arrive at the building, and from that distance, you could hear the loud music playing in the dance room. The closer you got, the louder it was. The door was partially open, so you carefully approach the door to spy on whoever was dancing inside.

Inside the dance, room was a guy moving his body to the rhythm of the music. You never had the talent to dance that upbeat kind of music, leaving classical music as your cup of tea, but doesn't change the fact that you wish you could dance the way he can. Ten behind you peeks for a second as well and then taps your shoulder to get your attention. "Y/n, we need to go." Reminding you that your walk back was not short. Sadness covers your eyes since you wanted to see the end of the choreography, even if it was only the guy's back you were seeing. but you know he's right. Your eyes travel to Ten, who just shrugs at you. Suddenly the music stops.

His familiar face was turned to your direction, glancing at you with nothing more than a frown. "Who gave you the right to spy me?" His voice sends shivers down your spine because of how pissed he was of being spied.

"I wasn't," you step inside and your index finger points to your piano in a corner, his eyes follow your finger and then he looks again at you.

"Take it quick and leave, you're wasting my time." You avoid his gaze since it was a little intimidating sometimes. You've been used to seeing that guy for... As long as you can remember. For some strange reason, your paths are the same. Same high school, and weirdly, same art school. But you've never heard his voice until now, you've never had the chance to have a conversation, and you never wanted to. He's always had the bad boy aura, and you wanted nothing to do with it. He's always been the pretty bad boy that you made sure not to cross paths with, even though it was impossible

You know he never noticed you before, and hat even when he was a bad boy you had nothing to worry about because your social life was completely different. Until now that his scary gaze was following you around the room, watching your every move and that makes you uneasy. For a reason, they named him the scary pretty guy back on your school days. "Are you going to be here all day?" Ten asks Taeyong casually, you forgot they were friends for a moment there, but it was luck to you, since for that reason he stopped looking at you.

"Almost, we'll be waiting for you. Jaehyun and Johnny are on their way here right now, Mark went out a couple minutes ago."

"I have piano classes right now and then I will be free," he picks up your keyboard while you silently take the stand and make your way out of the room, glad that Ten distracted Taeyong. "See you in two hours." You hear him say, followed by him leaving the room behind you. You felt you could finally breathe, surprised that as soon as he stare at you, your breathing stop. He was breathtakingly handsome, but that was not the reason why you felt like that. Was the bad boy aura he has. "He just hates people seeing his choreographies when is not finished." Ten explain to you due to the silence that you hold.

"I don't care," you don't.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

8:23 pm says your phone when a text message pops up. You gasp in shock, realizing that you had been there longer than expected. It was normal for you to lose track of time when you were composing, but this time the hours really went by quicker than expected. You parted ways with Ten at five when your class ended, by staying in the piano classroom and played until the message from your boyfriend brought you back to reality. You slowly pick up your stuff, throwing your phone inside your bag not wanting to even read his text. But as soon as you step out of the building, your phone starts to vibrate, letting you know you had a call.

Annoyed, you look for your phone on your bag to see him calling you. "Yes?"

"I'm in the parking lot, let me take you home." His normal sweet voice appears on the other side, you roll your eyes in response as if he could see you. You just stayed silent on the entrance looking at your feet. "Or at least let's talk. I can't stand the fact of falling asleep while being mad at each other." Not standing the silence anymore. "Please."

"Sure, see you in a bit." The walk to the parking lot was the shortest walk you've ever had on the campus, you did not want to talk about anything right now because you were starting to see the real him. The not very supportive one, the one that may hold you back on a future. That may be the real one, and you were not ready to actually meet him. But you have to. His figure is against his car in the parking lot where there were only two cars, his and another way a few lots to the right. His eyes were on you the whole walk to his car, and you dont know what to feel about it. "Look, I thought about it,"

"Are you staying?"

" I—” you stop talking realizing you were about to raise your voice after that, and take a deep breath. "I will not make that decision right now, but I want you to be on my side and understand me instead of being against me. This is my future we're talking about in here.” you express your feeling, glad that he was listening to you in silence. " Do you understand?"

"But you can have a nice future, what is the matter with staying here?" He does not understand

"I do not know what I will do," you argue. "I just want you to be on my side not matter what decision I make."

"You will stay here with me." He says, as it was so easy, but the way he says it just bothered you. The demanding tone gets on your nerves.

"Stop saying it like that, you don't get to choose what I will do. This is my life."

"Oh, I see. You want to break up with me and fuck every single dude you see, like you went to fuck that guy instead of actually going to class?"

"What are you ta—"

"You thought I didn't see you leaving me alone to go for a guy? And you were still here when is not usual for you to be here? I went to your apartment and your roommate told me you were here. What were you doing?" Your expression shifts to one of disbelief and hurt.

"I can't believe you think I would do something like that to you," saying it was harder than thinking about it. A single tear rolls down your cheek, one that you quickly swipe away. "If you think like that, we have to break up. I'm leaving, and do not fucking call me ever again." You spit, then turn around to walk away containing the tears from falling. You do not want to cry near than man to show how weak you were. Obviously, you are weaker than he is.

You just feel the pain on your wrist and how harshly you are turned around to face him, "That hurts!" You whine, not being able to avoid the look he has. You've never seen his so mad, before, even less looking at you. The feeling of not being able to do anything was frustrating as he held your other wrist too. "Let me go, what are you doing?"

"So I'm right? How many guys have you fucked?"

"Let me fucking go!"

"You forgot you were only mine?"

"Fuck you!" You do not know where the strength to say to that man that had you under his control came out from, neither how by instinct your knee fly between his legs and make him let you go without wanting. Your breathing is audible, and you tell yourself to run away but you could not move at all. In shock, you stare at how he falls on the floor and stays there for a minute. Why could you not move? Why you have to stay there when you could run away and disappear somewhere he could not find you? Why do you wait until he stands up again and without thinking slaps your face so hard you fall on the floor? By then, Isn't it too late? Where did the strong Y/n escape to? He walks again to you, so you look for something around you that you could hit him with, but there's nothing. You close your eyes hard, waiting for whatever he is going to do to you, until the sound of a strong punch makes an appearance, and then you see from the corner of your eye how the man ready to hit you is on the floor holding his face with closed eyes. "Taeyong?" You ask yourself, seeing the familiar clothes you saw in the practice room earlier on the day.

You thought you had seen the scariest look on him, but that was not true. Now you could see what he really looks like when he is mad. Meanwhile, he's punching your now ex-boyfriend like his life depended on it. It was not the fact that he was hitting the man you can't say you don't love anymore, but the fact that you hated violence. Throwing punches in a reckless way like a person body was the easiest thing to hurt. "S—stop!" You voice comes out, but you know there was no way that with the sound of punches he heard you. You crawl to where they are and grab Taeyong's hand so he would stop.

He does and stands up so quickly that you barely could see him running to his car, grabbing something and coming out again. Your ex stands up, and follows him until you see him stop abruptly. That clicking sound just sends panic all over your body. "Do not fucking touch her ever again."

"Man, put that down," he says, giving a few steps backward.

"Taeyong, stop that!"

"I will make sure you don't fucking touch her from now on, if you look at her, if you get near her, even if you fucking think of her I will make sure is the last time you ever do." He spits the words out with some much hatred in his voice that you even lost yours. Your mouth moves like it screaming but you can't hear yourself.

From there, you start seeing how everything goes down on slow motion. How you lose sight of what was going on for a second while Ten sees your state and hugs you. Your tears rolling down in desperation wanting everything to just stop. You see how Jaehyun, Johnny, and Mark appear in the scene trying to calm Taeyong, while your ex gets in his car and leaves without even looking at you once. Mark slowly takes the gun, that God knows why he has it on his car, while Johnny holds Taeyong and says things you can't hear nor see, you just glare over Ten's shoulder and let all the tears come out. Your arms hug him when you see that nothing bad really happened besides the bastard having a black eye and bruises on his face. "It's alright," your sense of hearing lets you hear Ten murmuring it to you while your big sobs become little.

Your eyes go to the man that stares at your crying self on the floor. That anger and hatred disappeared out of the blue, now there was an expression that you could not recognize as he took a few slow steps. Your hands softly push Ten away from you, and as a mechanism of defense you back away. "Do not touch me!" You demand at the man that wanted to get near you and check if you were fine. Taeyong just wanted to ignore your words and get near, but your tears and your shaking hand made him stand still.

"I can explain,"

"Y—you don't need to explain anything to me, I don't want to know," you stand up with a great amount of effort since your legs were shaking the same way your whole body was. You forget about your bag, you just wanted to lock yourself on your apartment and forget it all happened. As if it was possible. You knew all the boys you've crossed paths a few times before where looking at your weak figure trying to walk away, and it was the most heartbreaking thing they have seen. Taeyong notices your bag on the floor, but before he could pick it up Ten does. "You've done enough, I will give it to her and take her home."

Mark gets closer to him before the others and places a hand on his shoulder when your figure besides Ten's disappears from their sight. "Let's go,"

Taeyong takes his hand off of his shoulder softly. "Please don't touch me," calmly says before starting to walk to his car.

(Any mistakes I didn't see, please let me know so I can change it. Thank you!)

60 notes · View notes

memesiders · 4 years

Text

Part 2

Death x OC Office AU

(I'm so glad you guys seem to like this, thank y'all!!!)

It was only when I had gotten home and changed into pajamas that I realized my phone wasn't in my bag.

After a twenty minute search, I had decided that my phone must've fallen out when Strife pushed my bag out of the chair. I thought I'd picked up everything, but I was wrong. I didn't want to go back, so I decided that I'd call there and ask when my sisters got home. Until then, I made myself comfortable on the couch and started binging some baking competition show. It only helped a little in distracting me from my thoughts. The receptionist job had been the latest in a long line of job offers I'd been turned down for. Not even a dishwashing job had wanted me.

I didn't know why I was so unlucky with jobs, and I hated to think of how disappointed Safiya would be. She called in a few favors to get me that interview and I'd blown it. No, that asshole had done that.

Thinking about Death brought a scowl to my face, and the anger that had left me in that elevator slowly started bubbling up again.

"What's his deal," I asked myself out loud, rolling off of the couch and heading to the kitchen. "He thinks he can just treat people like that? Like they're not worth his time?" I yanked open the fridge and blew out a hard breath, shaking my head. I grabbed a blueberry yogurt and shut the fridge with a little more force than necessary. "What a prick," I grabbed a spoon out of a drawer, "and he barely even looked at my resumé.

"Like he already knew he wasn't gonna give me the job."

I slammed the drawer shut as I finished my thought and angrily shuffled back to the couch. "Who the hell does he think he is?" I plopped back down and tore the top off of my yogurt, licking it off and eating a spoonful. Why was I so bothered by this? "He probably thinks he can get away with anything because he's powerful and good looking..." I pictured his face in my mind; his strong jaw, defined cheekbones, and piercing eyes the color of fiery cinders... Not to mention the muscles hidden beneath his clothes.

Wait, what was I saying? I shook my head quickly and focused back on the show, finishing my yogurt. I just needed to get laid or something, not think about assholes. Although that was hard to do when I shared a room with a sixteen year old.

"We're home!" I jumped upright as the front door swung open, slamming into the wall as my little sister walked in. The action reminded me of Strife and I couldn't help but let out a soft snort. Neema tossed her backpack onto the couch next to me and fell into the recliner, swinging her legs over one of the armrests. "Today was absolutely terrible." I arched a brow at her and smiled.

"Oh, and why is that?" I asked, moving her bag to the floor.

"Go ahead and tell her why I had to leave work to come grab you," Safiya said grumpily, locking the front door. She had a bag of groceries in one hand.

"I told you it wasn't my fault! I didn't start it, I just finished it." I looked between the two, noticing the disapproving glance Safiya gave her. Neema rolled her eyes and looked at me. "Some girls were picking on Lyriel and calling her a half breed, so I hit them."

"Not only did you hit them, you broke one of their noses!"

"They deserved it! No one calls Lyriel a half breed and gets away with it!" I cracked a small smile at her outburst.

"Well I think it was justified," I said, reaching over to high five her. Safiya groaned and went into the kitchen, muttering something under her breath. I chuckled and propped my feet up on the coffee table. "So, was Lyriel grateful for you defending her? Maybe she gave you a little kiss on the cheek?" I laughed as Neema's light brown cheeks started to redden, her eyes narrowing in annoyance.

"Shut up," she muttered. "You know she didn't."

"She might have if you told her you liked her." Neema groaned and shifted in the chair, rolling her eyes at me.

"She's my friend; I can't just tell her I've had a huge crush on her for the last five years! What if it ruins our friendship? What if she only likes boys? Do you know how awkward that'd be?"

"Hey, you'll never know unless you take the leap!" She picked up the recliner pillow and threw it at me, a smile gracing her face. I laughed and blocked it from hitting me, clutching the pillow to my stomach. Neema's crush was so cute, but I understood her hesitation. The one time I'd confessed to my friend I'd liked him, he told me he was disgusted by the thought of dating a human, and then had slowly disappeared from my life. Not the best example for her.

"What about you? Why haven't you gone out with anyone," she asked, quick to change the subject.

"I have to focus on finding a job before I go back to dating," I answered, throwing the pillow back at her. It hit her in the face and she laughed, tucking it under her legs. "I can't focus on dating when I can't even afford to help chip in around here."

"Speaking of job," Safiya piped in, appearing from the kitchen. "How did the interview go? Did you get the job?" My smile fell and I thinned my lips, leaning back against the couch. Safiya sighed disappointedly and took a seat next to me. "Really? Again?"

"It wasn't my fault," I rushed out. "The dude made me wait an hour and he was a total asshole!"

"Was he hot," Neema asked. "The hot ones are always assholes."

"Smokin'." She 'ahh'd' and nodded, shooting a finger gun at me.

"It doesn't matter if he was an asshole or not," Safiya hissed. She rubbed her temples and leaned back. She suddenly looked very tired, and I felt even worse about my actions earlier; I might've been able to talk him into hiring me if I hadn't flipped out. "We barely have enough to pay rent this month. I don't know what we're gonna do for food until my next paycheck; I spent the rest of our money on food for this week." Neema frowned and crawled out of the chair, coming over and pulling Safiya into her arms.

"We'll be okay," she reassured her. "We're always okay, and if I need to, I can try applying at McDonalds or something." Safiya sniffled and patted her back, shaking her head. Now I was feeling even worse.

"I left my phone there on accident," I said softly. "I'll go back tomorrow and try to talk with the guy again. I'll apologize and maybe he'll give me a janitorial position or something." Safiya smiled a little and grabbed my hand, giving it a squeeze. "I'm sorry, Saf."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," she said, squeezing my hand again. "I've just been stressed lately. I'm trying to get as much overtime as possible and taking double shifts left and right. I guess I've just been burning myself out. I'm sorry for being so upset with you..." I gave her a small smile and crawled over, joining my sisters in a hug. Safiya laughed and wrapped one of her arms around me. "We'll just have to make it work.

"It's nothing we haven't faced before, right?" Neema and I voiced our agreement and the three of us stayed like that for a while, just hugging each other. I would definitely be going back to that place tomorrow, and I'd do everything in my power to try and get a job, even if I had to suck someone's dick; I had to do something to help my family out.

We untangled ourselves after ten minutes, Safiya excusing herself to go change out of her work clothes. Neema and I laid back on the couch, flipping through Netflix and Hulu to decide what to watch next.

"We're not watching another cupcake show," she said, trying to grab the remote from my hand.

"We're not watching another anime either," I replied, moving the remote further away from her. "You got to watch it all day yesterday!"

"I'm only halfway through Fullmetal Alchemist!" I opened my mouth to tell her too bad when there was a loud knock on the door.

"Can one of you get that?" Safiya shouted from her room. Neema and I stared at each other.

"You get it," I said, still holding the remote away from her.

"No, you get it," she said, struggling to grab the device from me. "I had a long and hard day at school."

"I had a long and emotional day being interviewed." She scoffed and crawled on top of me, grabbing for the remote. I laughed and pushed against her, stretching my arm as far out as I could.

"Gee, thanks you two," Safiya said, appearing from down the hall. She walked past us and plucked the remote from my hand, continuing to the door. Neema and I both whined and turned to see who was here. She set the remote on the side table next to the door and opened it. "Hello, what do you wa-?" She stopped suddenly, her face paling slightly. Neema and I stretched our necks, trying to see who was at the door.

"Is it another door to door salesman," Neema asked, crawling onto me again to try and see. I grunted and fell against the couch, groaning.

"Get your big butt off of me," I demanded, voice muffled by the couch cushions. I could barely see Safiya.

"Good evening," a familiar voice said. "Is Miss Banks here?"

"Depends on which one you're asking for," Safiya answered, seeming to have recovered from her momentary shock.

"I met her earlier today and it seems she forgot something." It suddenly clicked.

"What the fuck is he doing here," I whispered, shimmying out from under my sister. I climbed over the back of the couch and ran to the door to make sure I was correct. Sure enough, there was Death, looking as handsome and calm as he had when I'd first met him. His eyes met mine and I bit down on my tongue, holding back the tirade of curses I wanted to let loose on him. You have to stay calm, I reminded myself. Try and get a job.

"Nice to see you again, Miss Banks," Death said, looking me up and down slowly. I suddenly became aware of the fact I was wearing unicorn pajamas shorts and had not one ounce of makeup on. Embarrassing, to say the least. Not that I'd let him know that. I placed my hands on my hips and tipped my head up.

"Mister... Death, sir," I replied, immediately wanting to crawl into a hole afterwards. He chuckled and I felt my cheeks warm, the urge to run away starting to creep up on me.

"Sir is just fine." I snorted and Safiya smacked the back of my head, warning me to behave.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked politely.

"For a moment, if it's not too intrusive." She waved him words away and stepped aside, pulling me with her when I made no move to let him in. He entered slowly, looking around. What, was our apartment not nice enough for him? Was he going to berate the decor? "You have a lovely home."

"Thank you, can I offer you some water?"

"No, thank you, I won't be here for long. I just came to see Aziza." The way my name rolled off his tongue gave me a weird sensation, like feathers tickling my skin. He looked at me suddenly and I briefly wondered if he'd somehow noticed what his voice had done to me. "Can we speak in private?" I wanted to tell him no, to twist his arm behind his back and throw him out like he'd had Amber do to me, but I couldn't; if there was any way I could possibly get a job, I had to bite my tongue and be a good girl. I nodded at him and motioned for him to follow me, heading to mine and Neema's room.

Our room wasn't the cleanest, honestly, but it was about as private as we could get. He walked in after me and closed the door, looking over the room with a disapproving stare.

"Why did you come," I asked, knowing that both of my sisters were probably eavesdropping. Death reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a cellphone; my cellphone, to be exact.

"I heard this meowing under my desk," he said. I blushed and took the phone from him, muttering a thank you. "I'm sorry about my brother; he's always an asshole."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree apparently," I muttered. His eyes narrowed and I sighed, my shoulders dropping. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"Yes you did, don't apologize." His words were matter of fact but there was a kindness in his tone. "I... Regret, how I acted today. The way I treated you wasn't entirely fair." Was that an apology I was hearing? "The truth is, I hate hiring new people.

"I've been avoiding finding someone new for a while now." I cracked a small smile; I could understand that. "Amber informed me that I might have been too harsh, though I don't see how." My smile dropped slightly; he was really bad at apologizing. "I took another look at your file. I think there might be something you can offer to me after all." I perked up slightly.

"I'll see you at 9 AM sharp, Monday morning," he finished. He nodded and turned, opening the door. Neema and Safiya stumbled into the room, falling over each other. Death looked down and them and then to me, smirking. "Apple doesn't fall far from the tree." I couldn't hold back the giggle that rose in me. He said goodbye to the girls and stepped over them, heading to the door.

I ran into the hallway. "Wait, does this mean I got the job?" I called after him.

"Why else would I tell you to come?" I smiled, my lips stretching across my face. He waved without looking back and shut the door behind him as he left. I was buzzing now.

"Wait, he gave you the job?" Neema asked, sounding as shocked as I was. I turned to them and nodded.

"I have a job!" I jumped onto them, joining them on the floor. We hugged each other tightly, Safiya screaming about how happy she was. This was my golden opportunity right here and now I couldn't blow it.

I wouldn't blow it.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #death #death x oc #office au

19 notes · View notes