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theonewiththefanfics · 3 years

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Because Hearts Get Broken (Part 1/3)

Synopsis: When your whole life you’ve been taught to push your feelings away, it’s hard to open up, even to the people you trust most. And sometimes what you give isn’t enough.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: sad. just angsty and sad. swearing; emotionally closed reader

Word count: 2904

Y/N had never been the kind of person who talks about her feelings. It didn’t matter if it was friends or family; her mindset was – they’re my problems, so you don’t have to worry your head about it.

In relationships, it wasn’t any better, in fact, it was kinda worse. It was extremely difficult for the girl to open up to her partner, which in turn she’d let so many possible relationships pass her by. Not to mention, when she was in one, they slowly deteriorated because of her inability to share with them. Which is why it didn’t come as much of a surprise when it happened between her and Harry.

Somehow unconsciously Y/N had been almost preparing herself, preparing her heart for it to break. When he walked inside his place, she’d been there to prepare them a meal in. They’d both had a stressful couple of weeks with Harry starting off on a new album endeavour, while Y/N’s boss was practically threatening to rip her head off, as she scrambled to finish everything, even though the deadlines were months away.

It just all kind of came crashing down on her when her boss suddenly called her up, telling her to rush back to the office, and when Y/N asked if it could wait until the morning, the ultimatum came that if she wanted her job, she’d do it then and there.

“Hey.” She hadn’t heard Harry come in, only noticed it when his arm wrapped around her shaking shoulders. “Hey, shh, come ‘ere.”

Slowly, he laid the two of them down, letting her head be tucked beneath his chin, as his palm rubbed soothing circles on her back. “ ‘S gonna be okay, dove. ‘S gonna be alright. Come on, now.”

They laid like that for about five minutes, until Y/N pushed her face away from Harry’s chest and laid her cheek there, taking in a few short, shaky breaths, and steadying herself by placing her palm on his chest and feeling the steady thuds of his heart.

“Wanna talk about it?” he muttered in her Y/H/C locks, placing a soft kiss to the crown of her head, but she sighed, shaking her head no.

“ ‘S fine. Overreacted.”

“You were sitting on the couch, crying and hyperventilating, dove. Obviously, something’s wrong.”

“Harry,” Y/N let out a long breath. “Can you please just let it go? It’s nothing major. If it was, I’d tell you.”

“Would you though?” The whisper went almost unnoticed, but Y/N did hear it, and it made her eyebrows furrow and push herself up from where they’d been nestled together.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean.” Harry bit the inside of the cheek. “When is the last time you ever told me what’s bothering you? Like really, truly made you upset?”

“What are you implying?” Y/N’s voice had gone steely, almost emotionless, as her brain pretty much screamed ‘it’s happening’.

“How can I help you when you don’t let me in?” His gaze was pleading, as his hands grasped onto her cheeks.

“You’re not supposed to.”

“Pardon?”

Y/N sighed and stood up from the couch, letting his touch fall away. “You’re not supposed to. They’re my problems to deal with, not yours, so you’re not supposed to help me. And there’s nothing to help me with.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you,” she scoffed as if it was the most ridiculous question in the world. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“How are we supposed to be in a relationship, if you don’t trust me?”

“I dunno,” Y/N whispered hugging herself. Sometimes she hated how her brain worked, but it was inevitable, right? It always came to this, so why not be the bad guy in the situation. “Maybe we’re not supposed to then.”

Harry was more than stunned at her reply. Not once during their relationship, he'd thought that her immediate reaction to a problem would be to immediately dismiss their love. "You - you don't mean that."

"Well," Y/N sniffled wiping at her cheeks where new tears were trailing down, "maybe I do. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. I mean they do say the first year is spent with rose-coloured glasses on, right? 'S time to take 'em off."

“So that’s it? You’re giving up just like that?”

“What do you want me to do?” Y/N exasperated throwing her hands up. “It’s the way I am, and I can’t change that. And if you can’t accept it, then yeah, maybe I am giving up just like that.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “I –,” he stammered, “I can’t believe this.”

“What do you want from me, Harry?”

“To fight!” He was practically yelling at this point, hoping to see some kind of emotion on Y/N’s face. “To let me in! To – to – fuck! To start trusting me!”

“I do trust you!”

“But not enough to trust me with your heart.”

A deafening silence fell over both of them because without needing a confirmation, Harry knew he’d struck gold. God, how he wished he hadn’t, but the numb expression Y/N's face morphed into told him enough.

“I’m giving you what I can.” Y/N’s voice was quiet, resolute. “And if that’s not something you can accept, then this is it.”

Now Harry was the silent one. But sometimes you don’t need words to say everything you mean.

“Okay then.” She nodded, went to the mantlepiece and took her clutch. “I’ll see ya around, I guess.”

And with that Y/N walked out of Harry’s apartment without a glance back.

***

Two and a half months later and he still couldn’t understand how everything had gone so wrong. He was at the New Year party, and Y/N was there too, courtesy of Sarah, who was their mutual friend and hosted it each year. This one was a lot more intimate, seeing as the pandemic, though contained, was still raging on, so only the closest and most important people in her life had been invited. Sarah'd been actually the one who introduced the two. Well, more so given them a shove in the right direction. A literal one at that.

The night had been absolute chaos and became an even bigger one when Y/N entered his life, Harry recalled. Drinks were flowing, bodies were moving in an erratic rhythm, most of them completely unaware of how the music boomed while voices shouted the incorrect lyrics and glasses clinked as everyone celebrated the upcoming year, buzzing with excitement as they waited for the countdown. That’s when Sarah, pulling a woman by her arm stormed towards Harry and pushed her into his chest.

“Do not let her leave your sight!” she’d hollered over the music, as Harry blinked at his drummer. “And you!” Sarah pointed at the woman, who giggled, hiding behind her champagne glass and slinking further down Harry’s frame, so much so, he had to grab onto her armpits otherwise she would fall. “Behave for at least five minutes! I need to check up on Mitch before he decides vodka would be a good addition and completely destroys the room.”

With that Sarah was gone, brown hair swishing in a high ponytail, leaving Harry confused and concerned as this stranger snickered behind Sarah’s back, showing her tongue like a child would.

“Umm,” he started not really knowing what to do. “You alright there?”

“ ‘M Y/N.” She leaned up with as much grace as a drugged-up cat, spun around to face him and extended her hand to him, and he took it, giving it a firm shake. “And I might be a lil’ bit drunk.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “You don’t say?”

“I do.” Y/N nodded confidently about her statement as she swayed on her feet. Harry had to grab her by the shoulder for the woman to remain somewhat upright. “And when I’m drunk, I thrive on chaos.”

“Is that why Sarah shoved you to me so I can babysit you?”

“See, she just doesn’t appreciate me and my talents. She thinks that I’m ‘unreliable’.” Y/N put the word in quotation marks, and in doing so, half her champagne spilt out of the flute. “And she thinks I need ‘supervision’.” There went the other half. “Honestly, it’s Sarah that needs to be looked after. It’s not me that set the curtains on fire.”

But the look on her face told Harry something different, and a smile bloomed on his face. “You set the curtains on fire?”

“I just told you, I didn’t.”

“Yes, well, your face is telling me a different story.”

Instantly Y/N facepalmed. “Stupid face. Can’t keep in check. Listen, the curtains were just…” She waved her hand around. “In the way of the flame. ‘S not my fault they’re made from such flammable material. Should’ve gotten more fire-resistant curtains, if you ask me.”

“Note taken – don’t let you near anything that can be set on fire or is fire.”

Y/N scoffed and gave Harry a side-eye. “As if you can tell me what to do. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

“And why's that?”

“Stranger danger.” Y/N wagged her free index finger in Harry’s face accentuating each syllable.

“Well then, let’s not be strangers.” He extended his hand just as Y/N had and waited until she took it. “ ‘M name’s Harry.”

“Good to meet you, Harry. Now, Sarah said nothing about not letting me dance, so come on! I love this song!” she exclaimed, making Harry throw his head back in laughter as she dragged him to the middle of the room, bodies grinding against them, but it didn’t really matter. Not when Y/N made Harry feel as if it was just the two of them in the world.

“Do you now?”

“Yes! Especially when he does the ‘da – dananana da – dananana’ part.” Her eyes went wide with excitement and pride. “Sarah’s in this song as well! She's the drummer!”

His eyebrow quirked up in amusement. Y/N clearly had no idea who she was talking to, and he was kind of loving her for it. Most of the time, as flattering as it was, it could become quite taxing when people recognised you with every step of the way. He wasn’t really allowed to have his smile leave his face, nor was he allowed to stay too lost in his thoughts, needing to be on constant alert if someone asked something.

But Y/N seemed to not care, and something in Harry told him – she wouldn’t care about it if she knew the truth.

“Wanna hear a secret?”

Y/N gasped, eyes twinkling in the disco ball light. “Of course! I love secrets.”

“I’m Harry!”

“I know you’re Harry. You said it already.”

Her confused face made his smile widen even more. “No, I mean I’m Harry. Harry Styles. This is my song.”

And then it dawned on her inebriated brain. “Ooh. You’re Harry Styles!”

“Yeah.”

“Good for you then!” And she put up her hand in a high-five, and he couldn’t leave her just hanging like that, belly-shaking laughter erupting from him before he weaved their fingers together and spun her around.

That night had been one of the best New Year’s he’d ever had. Throughout the hour before the clock struck 12, she’d sobered up enough that when Harry asked if he could kiss her, she was coherent and could say yes. It’d been the best kiss of their lives by that point.

But now, seeing Y/N walk around Sarah’s apartment a smile on her face that he recognised to be fake, and laughter ringing in his ears that he knew wasn’t true, made him look back at that night and wonder if she’d been truly happy then.

She definitely seemed to have been, fuck, Harry hoped she was happy for at least some of it; that when Y/N said she was alright, she’d truly meant it, otherwise, he had no idea what he’d do with himself, but in all honesty, despite the fallout between the two, what he wished was for her to come back. To give him the slightest glimpse into what worried her. That would be enough.

In the beginning, Harry supposed, it was his own fault. He’d thought Y/N was just strong, she was so level-headed that whenever something was wrong, it was tackled immediately and righted that exact second, but in truth, it was just hiding, putting on a performance and living through a smile that was a complete lie.

He saw Sarah lean into Y/N and whisper something in her ear before her head snapped in Harry’s direction, Y/E/C eyes meeting his. He then watched her let out a breath, give Sarah a small smile and look at him once more before approaching, Harry’s own back straightening out as she opened the balcony door and entered his space.

She was a vision, a black and gold glitter romper covering her body, cinched at the waist with a solid gold-colour metal band, while the sleeves fluttered off in a ‘Morticia Addams’ style, as Y/N liked to call it, with her hair out of the way of her face in a simple knot at the base of her neck. Easy to make and easy to take out.

“Bobby pins are the creations of the Devil,” she’d muttered one night after they’d gone to some Hollywood event. Harry couldn't even remember what it'd been for, most of his focus on making sure his date was alright.

One by one she'd untwisted and twirled the metal pins out of her head. “Fucking, scraping my brain from the outside of my skull.”

Harry had chuckled, untying the lace front of his blouse style shirt. “Wanna massage?”

The affirmative groan made him grin like a child on Christmas.

Y/N was the one to break the silence, after having her eyes rake over his own form. A fitted chequered suit paired with a simple dress shirt and chequered moccasins. One of the tamer looks for him, but he wasn’t feeling very festive this year.

“Hey.”

Harry sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. “Hi.”

God, how had everything become so fucking awkward between them?

“How,” she cleared her throat, “how are you?”

“Honestly?” Harry wanted to spit out the ‘I’m fine’, the line that was so overused by her it’d lost its meaning, but he couldn’t. He’d always been an open book, especially with Y/N, so he told her the truth. “I’m hurting.”

“Harry…” Her eyes met the floor unable to hold his green gaze.

“Every day I wake up, and I’m in pain. And it’s not getting easier. And it won’t. Not for a long while.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry.” He laughed even though he didn’t mean it. “I just wanted you to talk to me. You know I’d never judge you.”

“It’s not about that…”

“Then what is it?” Harry snapped. “Because I’m at a fucking loss here. Have been for the past two and a half months.”

“It’s not easy when…” Y/N actually bit down on her tongue to not let the words out. She took in a calm, collected breath; then she continued. “It’s not easy to open up like you want me to when my whole life I’ve been taught to just push it down. Push it away, forget about it. I don’t know a different life. That’s my normal, that’s what I know. I know you wouldn’t have judged me, you’re not that kind of a person. But it’s not even about that. It’s… it’s… why couldn’t you have just left everything at ‘I’m fine’?”

“Because I don’t want to be fine,” he said, sad eyes looking right through her, right through to Y/N’s being. “I – I wanna be great, and ecstatic and fucking exhilarated or hurting or sad, even devastated. I want to feel things. And I want to share them with the person I trust most. I wanna share them with you. And I want you to share your emotions with me too. It’s not your job to carry the weight of the world on your own. That’s what a partner is there for.”

Y/N broke away from Harry’s eyes given how her own were now lined with tears that threatened to slip down her cheeks. She sniffled, using the sleeve of her romper to press against her nose.

New Years. When the previous one had started off with so much love and hope and laughter and the new one seemed to only show it had tears and heartache ahead. God, this was the worst holiday in existence.

“Ten, nine, eight,” the people inside counted down.

“Y/N, please.” One last try. He had to.

“Seven, six, five.”

She just shrugged. “I don’t know how to be different."

“Three, two, one! Hap–“

“Happy New Year, Harry.” Y/N leaned up and pressed a lingering kiss against his cheek. “I hope you find someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

With hands in her pockets, she retreated leaving him standing alone on the balcony, but right as she was about to close the sliding door, he spoke up.

“I had.”

That made Y/N spin around, cold air hitting her face just as harshly as the truth that spilt past his lips.

“Only she didn’t trust that I loved her the same.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: Part 2? maybe??

P.S. my tags are always open :)

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gypsydanger01 · 4 years

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THE STORM - Part seven

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

Posting new chapters on Wednesday and Friday!

Operation Whistle-blower

As the first tendrils of sunlight curled through her bedroom’s blind shades, Sarah rolled over in her bed, still unable to fall asleep. Her mind was crowded with thoughts surrounding her evening encounter. What was she going to do? The lines always grew muddy in these situations, and she still didn’t know what to think of Black Noir. If anything, their interaction only added to her confusion.

She was so tired. But nevertheless, she pulled herself into a sitting position and waited for the pounding at her temples to subside. Once it finally did, she stretched and rose from the warm bed.

And so, her morning began. Looking in the mirror, she wondered what had changed. She’d been training for these moments, preparing to execute her plan. When had she gotten so tired? When had she lost her edge? Wherever it went, she needed to find it immediately.

Sarah’s morning routine was precise, meticulous even. First, she made a quick stop in the bathroom to freshen up for the day. This was followed by a morning workout, consisting of either jump-rope hiit or strength exercises. She stretched and drank her lemon water. At that point, she always took a shower and decided her look for the day. Outfit, hairstyle, and makeup. Once she was prim and proper, she would head into the kitchen and make herself pancakes, which she considered to be the best start to any morning.

Once she’d cleaned up, she’d gather her things and head out.

On the other hand, Black Noir needed no more than three hours of sleep and often found himself awake throughout the night. He’d spend his time reading, prowling the city, or watching movies. He wasn’t quite sure how it’d started, but one movie every now and then turned into one or two movies a night.

When the sun begins to rise, he starts his routine of suiting up and eating breakfast. He would then enter the combat training room Vought had built for him and that only him and the company knew about. He clocked many hours in that room, constantly training and sharpening his skills. He’d freshen up before heading out for meetings or events.

Sometimes even missions. Now those were his favorites and he often found himself craving one just to be able to let go, to use his abilities. He was a master martial artist and interrogator. He was a spy supplied with strength, durability, and knife proficiency. When they assigned a target, it always ended up classified as ‘terminated’. He never missed, he never failed.

But that morning was like any other, and he had yet another string of meetings. And so, with great composure he completed his morning routine, slipped his mask on, and left his living quarters.

He found that the only thing he might look forward to as much as a mission, was meeting the woman who had captivated his attention that fateful night at the gala. She was different from what he’d originally imagined, still radiant but imperfect. Up close, watching her while she spoke, he had noted a sadness, a maturity in her eyes he wasn’t expecting. For the first time, he was personally invested in another human being, watching over her like a guardian. She was hiding something, and he’d get to the bottom of it soon enough.

The day went by in no rush, the hours slowly dragging along. The burning in her eyes and the heaviness of her limbs were nothing when compared to the pounding in her head.

Massaging her temples, Sarah tried to focus on the task at hand.

Someone hovered over her desk, “Long day?”

Sarah hummed before granting her friend some attention. She didn’t like the mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Or should I say long night?”

“Hell no, don’t start up with that,” Sarah immediately rejected the image she had conjured up at Martha’s words.

Martha merely huffed in disappointment but respected her wish to keep quiet about it at the moment. You could never really know who is watching or listening.

“All right, all right,” the blonde swept at her bangs. “Are you sure you’re up for tonight?”

Sarah immediately nodded, “Of course, we need to go over a few things.”

Martha watched her closely, “You hide it well, but you really need to slow down.”

She knew her friend meant well and was probably worried over her fatigued state, but there was no time for rest. She could sleep, but it never truly replenished her. It only kept her going.

And who could blame her for it? People who slept well weren’t constantly looking over their shoulder, afraid of being identified and murdered in cold blood. They weren’t leading a plan to take down one of the biggest, most successful pharmaceutical companies in the world. They weren’t being watched by an enhanced, murderous ninja who could tear their head off. Most of all, they didn’t fear burning up and clearing a block in their sleep.

As a little girl, she’d always sleep curled up at the center of the bed, far from the edges. Under no circumstances would she allow a limb to fall over the side. Now, she always slept with an arm hanging out, her fingers inches away from the backpack holding all the necessities to disappear at a moment’s notice. New passport, keys to a safe house, change of clothes, snack bars, lighter, knife, flashlight…

Sarah stirred herself from her thoughts, “It’s fine, I’m just not sleeping that well.”

The other woman pursed her lips.

What Martha had been referring to was their weekly night out every Friday. They would either go for dinner at a restaurant or go clubbing if they had to discuss anything in secrecy. That night, they were heading to one of their favorite clubs for dancing and plotting. A club is the perfect place to talk about sensitive information if you find the right spot inside. The loud music masks your words, and most of the people are drinking, buzzed, or completely wasted. And seeing them out together raised no suspicion because it simply looked like friends going out and having fun. Additionally, they got to dance which was always a plus in the two women’s eyes.

Martha often complained that at twenty-seven they were rapidly approaching the deadline for going to clubs, dancing events and such. She was often very dramatic about it, claiming they had to enjoy it before they got labelled as cougars. Sarah always brushed it off with a laugh, not even attempting to reason with her friend’s logic.

And while she enjoyed going to clubs or bars, that night she truly was regretting it. She slipped into a small, refined black dress and hopped into her heels. She’d already done her eye makeup and moved in front of the mirror to apply a rich, dark red lipstick. Her hair was left down, cascading over her shoulders in tight kinks and curls, a cloud of dark brown locks. She pulled her bangs to the side and took in her appearance in the mirror.

Alluring and mysterious, perfect.

Her phone vibrated from an incoming call. “Hey, I’m two minutes away, start locking doors or whatever it is that always makes you late.”

Sarah laughed and started to, indeed, shut her windows and lock the backdoor. She finally made it to the porch where she stood waiting for her friend’s Honda.

Little did she know, a certain someone was hidden on her roof, listening to her move around on the porch beneath him. Black Noir could smell the enticing perfume she’d applied and could hear the characteristic click of heels on wood. He breathed in deeply and restrained himself from jumping down.

She was lightly humming to herself, and he found the tune oddly familiar, but he couldn’t recall when he’d last heard it.

A light grey car rolled around the corner and came to a stop in front of the house.

When Sarah stepped down from the porch and onto the sidewalk, he couldn’t help but hold his breathe. Frozen in his spot, he grew hot at the elegant form-hugging dress she wore, her hips swaying from side to side. Ringlets of dark hair reached down the curve of her back. Where was she going looking like that?

As the car sped away, Black Noir took a few moments to collect himself. She’d completely clouded his mind, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. One of the things that made him so efficient was his ability to focus, always. In any situation, he selected and categorized his surroundings with an ease unlike any other man or woman. He was controlled. No distractions, ever. His outlet was killing, but even then, it was methodical.

But now he felt an underlying tension grow, right under the skin where he couldn’t reach. She was stunning, and he was sure others would think so as well. He’d gouge their eyes out. If he caught anyone catcalling, he’d rip out their tongues. Yes, that’s appropriate.

He shook his head, almost in an attempt to concentrate. Mostly, he was angry with her. Who was she meeting? He sneered at the thought of another man entering the picture.

And so, fueled by possessiveness and an unfathomable jealousy, he followed from the rooftops with an ever-watchful eye.

Having already been there multiple times, Sarah and Martha were quick to settle into their usual spot. Taking in the masses of moving bodies around her, Sarah glanced at the people within hearing range. A good rule a thumb was that if she could he hear them speak, so could they hear her.

She moved closer to her friend as Martha started, “I think this is a good time to proceed with everything. I mean, we’re only missing the codes to the lab.”

Sarah snorted, “Yeah, as well as infiltrating the lab, taking the samples and data—like the whole rest of the plan.” She mused, “Oh and don’t forget, we have to live through it and get everything to Max.”

Martha rolled her eyes, “Okay, you’re right but still…,” she took a sip of her drink, “it’s time. There’s a lot of confusion and change at Vought, it could easily be someone else.”

Sarah thought about it. “The plan is pretty solid. It has its risks, but I don’t think there’s any potential plan that doesn’t have any.”

Martha approved, “Exactly. Plus, it fits in with the timeline so we’re good.”

“Yeah….” Sarah trailed off before finally deciding, “I’ll do it next week. I get the algorithm and you crack it.”

Martha high-fived her and downed her drink. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

“To Operation Whistle-blower.”

Sarah smiled, “To Operation Whistle-blower”

After such extensive planning, it felt good to finally act, to make Vought pay. She would just need to hold it together for a little longer, focus and get the job done.

Looking over at the blonde she searched her eyes for doubt or remorse. After all, this wasn’t her battle and she’d gotten wrapped into it almost accidentally. They had met at Mallory’s house as teenagers and had been inseparable ever since. And they made a good team, always looking out for each other in the dangerous world of lies, conspiracies and death they grew up in.

Martha snapped her fingers, “You still with us?”

Laughing at her friend’s impatience, Sarah nodded and focused on the drink in front of her.

“Have you told Mallory how we’re proceeding?”

Growing serious, the brunette shook her head, “I only call at our scheduled time on Sunday. I’ll hint at it then.”

Martha leaned back in her seat, “Yeah, it would be great if she could muddy the waters even more, feed false information here and there.”

“You know she’ll help where she can, but I don’t want her involved,” Sarah repeated for the hundredth time, “She already doesn’t want me doing this, and she’s suffered enough.”

Watching her friend retreat into her thoughts, Martha made the snap decision to get up and literally force her to be present.

“Let’s dance.”

Sarah sputtered, “Well okay.” She stared wide-eyed at her friend, “That was sudden.”

“Well you know all that crap about,” she paused for emphasis, “Ces la vie”

The young brunette stood up and laughed at her friend’s antics as she was swept into the crowd.

Losing themselves to the music, they joined the mass of moving bodies, shaking hips and hands raised. The pounding music had since reached into their chest, their bodies almost vibrating to the fast tempo of the music. It was exhilarating, until Sarah’s head felt like it split open.

Martha touched her neck.

“Oh my god, Sarah what happened,” she yelled over the music.

She dragged her over to a less crowded corner and checked her over for any sign of injury. The bleeding woman could feel her agitation grow and spread throughout her body. Had someone nicked her? She looked back into the crowd, wondering who was hiding in there, waiting to finish her off. The dim lights over the sea of moving bodies concealed everything, both action and sound.

Martha found the source of her bleeding, “Oh god Sarah, it’s your ear, it’s bleeding.” Looking up with knowing eyes she placed her hands on the brunette’s shoulders, steadying her. “Look at me, we’re fine. You need to calm down.”

Sarah’s eyes were traced by thin glowing veins, and her breaths were increasingly shallow. She could feel her heartbeat at the tips of her fingers, her whole body on edge.

When Sarah looked from side to side, Martha lightly shook her to catch her attention. “Hey,” she warned.

Slowly, the net of glowing light blue retreated.

“Are we cool?”

Sarah swallowed, “Yeah, I’m fine now.”

Martha tugged on her hand and led her to the exit. They both knew she needed to go home and fully slow down—come down from her high. The moment of danger had triggered a response that she thought had long went dormant.

“It’s been a long time since I last saw you like that.”

Sarah merely wrapped her arms around her waist. After the moment of scalding hot, she was now left cold, almost shivering.

“Has it happened since last time.”

Sarah stared ahead. “Not really.”

“What do you mean ‘not really’?

The brunette kicked at a small rock on the sidewalk. “When I sleep and I remember things, I feel it. But I wake up each time.”

“Jesus, no wonder you’re not sleeping.” Martha looked over at her pensive friend, “I’m staying over tonight. It can be a sleepover like the old days.”

Sarah smiled at the thought of their wild adventures. Their sleepovers were not what people commonly thought of. There was no braiding, nail polish or barbies. It was training, sparring, and eating abnormal amounts of ice-cream.

“You’re going to rest, and I’m going to make you some tea,” Martha decided.

“So a different kind of sleepover,” Sarah pointed out.

Martha looked over, worry in her eyes. “Yeah, a different kind of sleepover.”

When she stayed silent, the blonde made a light-hearted comment, “You know we need to branch out, get out of our comfort zones so that we can grow as human beings”

At Sarah’s laugh she proceeded, “Maybe we should try braiding your hair, too.”

The brunette raked a hand through the ends of her curly hair, “Please, you don’t have what it takes.”

Laughing, Martha agreed. From behind them, someone called out.

“Hey, girls, wait up.” A stocky man with hard eyes but a blinding smile came to stand way too close for comfort, and they both took a step back.

“Can I get your numbers?”

“Excuse me?”

“Can I get one of your numbers” he asked again, but slower.

They were both getting bad vibes. Sarah sized him up, still rattled from what happened in the club.

“Yeah, we understand English, we just don’t know what you’re trying to achieve here.”

Martha interjected with a disbelieving tone, “Are you trying to get both of our numbers?”

He smirked and ran a hand through his hair, probably thinking he was cute.

“Well, I’ll take what I can get. One or both.”

Martha smiled widely, “Yeah, no, that was the worst attempt to a get a girl’s number in the history of pick-up lines.”

Sarah agreed, “We’re leaving.”

She promptly spun around but was stopped when he grabbed her wrist and shook her. She looked back at him and down at his hold, feeling the energy bubbling right under the surface.

“Come on, I know you want it, no way you weren’t dancing for attention in there.”

And for an instant she got a glimpse into his mind, pictures clouding her thoughts. Her own mind was now spun up, running a thousand miles per hour as her body grew increasingly hot. Martha attempted to catch her attention.

“Come on, let’s go, we’re leaving now.”

But Sarah stood stock still, staring at the man as he grew more and more uncomfortable. Not as bold as before, he tried to back out. When she felt a looser tension on her wrist, she twisted and grabbed onto his, pulling him close.

Her temperature surpassed what would commonly be considered a fever, and she felt the characteristic burning warmth pervading her chest, like ribbons of fire and smoke swirling though her ribcage.

The man started to feel heat on his wrist, and, confused, he tugged. Sarah never moved. And Martha was terrified, not knowing how to knock her friend out of her trance-like state of focus on the disrespectful man in front of them. She had already been on edge, and him grabbing her like that must have sent her barreling over a metaphorical cliff.

Growing scared, he tugged even harder, to no avail. She saw Jason in his features. And suddenly, her skin was so hot, he was burning. She seared the shape of her fingers onto his wrist and ignored the smell of burning skin in the air.

“Oh god, Sarah that’s enough.”

She pressed harder, and he kneeled to the floor, trying to twist out of her grasp.

“Sarah, you’ll blow our cover,” she tried, and finally pleaded, “Marianna.”

That got to her, somewhere in her mind. It shook her and distracted her from the surge of energy building up inside.

Leaning down, she whispered. “You need to learn to respect women. We’re not weak playthings, you hear?”

He nodded insistently, and she finally let him fall back onto the sidewalk, clutching onto his wrist.

Martha watched her, “Now, are we cool?”

Sarah couldn’t quite meet her eyes, “I’m sorry.”

Martha was slightly fuming, but it was worry that truly consumed her.

“You better do some jumping jacks or flap your arms to cool down, because you will not burn my leather seats.”

Once they left, the silence in the car was suffocating.

Sarah finally pierced it, “I saw what he was thinking, Martha. Not like I could in the past—just a glimpse.”

She peered out of the window into the night.

“And it was horrible.”

Up on the rooftops, Black Noir had watched the interaction with growing frustration.

Ready to make his way down to kill the man, he stopped in his tracks. Was this the secret she’d been hiding? She too was enhanced.

She wasn’t on any of Vought’s lists or indexes, which confirmed the fact that she was using a fake identity. So, if she was hiding, presumably from the company that had made her into what she is, why was she working there? So many questions, and no answers.

And why had the other woman called her Marianna? Was that her true name?

His patience was growing thin, but he decided he wouldn’t advance on her until he had a better understanding of where she stood. He found himself proud of how she’d handled the man. Disappointed that she hadn’t killed him, but proud, nonetheless. If she had simply given over her number, he wasn’t sure what he would’ve done. Violent thoughts danced behind his eyes but he wasn't sure he'd be able to carry them out, not on her.

He leapt down from where he was perched and followed the man without a sound.

And in the dark of night, one can only imagine what happened when he finally reached him.

-Giulia

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 @proximio-5 @damiminator

#the boys #the boys amazon #the boys tv #the boys season 2 #black noir #black noir x oc #the boys black noir #the seven #supes #Vought #fanfiction #fanfic #oc story

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luminescencefics · 4 years

Text

the light inside

Natasha Reynolds is trying to figure her life out. She’s newly single, behind her deadline for her newest book release, and currently stuck in her best friend’s house while her home office is being renovated.

Harry Styles is just trying to complete this project. He’s in the midst of his own home renovation, but when he steps foot into Natasha’s townhouse, he finds that there’s more to life than just trying to rebuild.

A oneshot about starting over, learning how to cope, blonde haired toddlers, and finding the light that shines inside of you.

written for @majorharry‘s 20k fic celebration

prompt #27: “your hands are soft,” prompt #29: “stop looking at me like that,” prompt #33: :”I--I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

harry/ofc, 8k

Natasha Reynolds is losing it.

She’s currently sitting in the half-finished nursery of her best friend’s unborn child. It's the only room in Ellory’s home that has some semblance of quiet, and that is exactly what Natasha needs considering she’s about three weeks behind her workload. Her inbox chimes with a notification of a new email, and Natasha sighs, ignoring it as the red number on her laptop screen grows from forty-six to forty-seven. No doubt they’re all from her editor. And, no doubt that if she doesn’t respond in the next hour, her phone will start to ring incessantly.

Natasha’s life never falls out of order. She has always been a woman with a plan, ever since uni, and that mindset has paved a road of success for her that she never thought she would achieve at this early an age.

Right after uni, she drafted about twenty query letters and sent them out to various publishing agencies throughout the Greater London area. She had been penning her mystery novel series her entire last year of university, and with a stroke of luck her first book was being edited and published before Natasha could turn twenty-five.

The first book was a success. It became an even bigger hit overseas, and not long after was her agent proclaiming that she must develop a second book. Three more books and three and a half years later, the Midnight series was finished. It allowed her to travel the world, meet fans of the book, and earn enough money to own property in Mayfair.

But now that her series was complete, her editor and agent were begging for Natasha to release a new book. Natasha wanted to branch away from the mystery genre and come up with a brand new book, one that would not be developed into a four-part series.

And, considering her newly single status, it made sense to venture into romance.

As of lately, Natasha feels like she has bitten off more than she can chew. Sure, she loves writing. And sure, her relationship imploding definitely gave her the push she needed to start writing again. But she’s suddenly at a standstill—battling a difficult case of writer’s block.

On top of all of that, she’s been sequestered at her best friend’s townhouse because her home office was currently under construction. Natasha usually plans for these things, and she definitely would not have decided for her writing space to be completely transformed while she’s trying to reach her deadlines. But her ex-fiancé ended things abruptly and that office was the only space in her home that he had called his, so it only made sense to completely tear it down and start fresh.

If only the timing was appropriate.

Just as Natasha began writing the eighteenth chapter of her unnamed novel, she starts to hear high-pitched giggles get louder and louder down the hallway. She can hear the gentle thud of feet, and not long after is the door to the nursery thrown open.

“Tasha! Come play!” Maude calls from the doorway of the room.

Her hair is in wild curls and her cheeks have a gentle flush to them, no doubt from running away from Ellory and trying to find Natasha’s hiding spot. Yesterday, Natasha was hiding in the guest bathroom to get work done and it only took a few hours before Maude heard the toilet flush and suddenly found her.

Today, it only took an hour and a half.

“Hi Maude,” Natasha says with a small smile.

“Why are you in sissy’s room?” Maude asks, hobbling towards Natasha’s spot on the enormous bean bag chair in the corner of the room.

“Trying to get some work done. Where’s mummy? I thought you guys were supposed to be baking shortbread?” Natasha asks, tearing her eyes away from her computer screen and looking at Maude who has now become eye level due to the bean bag’s relativity to the carpeted floor.

“We did! Come see!” Maude’s sticky hands reach out towards the screen of Natasha’s laptop, and before her fingers can make a mess of it, Natasha slams it down with a gentle click. Maude starts giggling, reaching for Natasha until her forearms are sticky from flour and egg.

Sighing, Natasha follows after the three year old. There’s no way she’ll be getting any more work finished today.

Ellory looks up from the oven when she sees her daughter dragging her best friend into the kitchen. She gives Natasha a look, laced with an apology and a bit of pity. Ellory knows that Natasha is struggling. Her personal life has been shit the entire year, her workload is only increasing, and now her home is in a state of disarray.

“Maude, love, what did I tell you about bothering Auntie Tasha?” Ellory asks, her ivory hands resting on her cocked hip. She’s giving her daughter a pointed glare, but Natasha knows that it’s no use. Maude always finds a way of getting out of trouble.

“Sorry mummy. I just wanted to show Tasha what we made!” Maude says, holding her arms up so she can be placed on her chair by the kitchen island. Natasha just shakes her head a little, wordlessly telling Ellory that it’s okay. She wasn’t really being productive anyways, to be fair. Baking with her best friend and her daughter sounded better anyways.

“Any progress on the book?” Maude asks, pouring Natasha a cup of tea from the still-hot kettle on the stovetop.

Natasha just shrugs before slumping down on the chair next to Maude. “I’m still stuck on chapter eighteen. Diane’s going to ring my neck.”

Natasha’s editor Diane was nothing but a terrifying presence in her professional life. Granted, she was phenomenal at her job, and without her guidance the Midnight series would probably never have become the success it had, but Diane struggled with understanding how Natasha worked.

She knew about the break up. She knew that her life was in shambles. But Diane pushed through all of that. She was a career-woman first, and didn’t believe in distractions. Therefore, she continuously pushed Natasha to write.

Sometimes, Natasha just needed to breathe.

“You’ll get there, Nat. You just need to find some inspiration,” Ellory offered kindly, resting her hand on her baby bump.

Ellory was always ten steps ahead of Natasha. Starting in secondary school back in Hammersmith, Ellory was already thinking about where she wanted to apply for uni. Although they went to different schools, they still kept in touch. And while Natasha was struggling to finish her final exams and finish writing book one of her series, Ellory was falling in love with Isaac and already planning her wedding.

That happened four months after graduation. Isaac was in finance and came from a wealthy family, and not even a year later, Maude was born. Natasha was still living in her tiny flat in the center of the city, far too cramped for her liking. She was in the middle of writing book two, so her royalties from the first installment hadn’t come in yet. Ellory was already planning Maude’s first birthday when she encouraged Natasha to stop being a reclusive author and start dating, and that’s when she met Will.

Will was smart and posh and worked at the same office as Isaac. He was a career-focused, well-mannered, completely tailored gentleman, and for some reason he took a liking to Natasha’s abnormal life. They were the same age but he felt eons ahead of her. His flat was in a luxury building with a doorman, he owned more suits than he did casual clothes, he drank bourbon like her father did, and he never tried to understand why Natasha wanted to become an author.

He never pushed it though, and he never really tried to understand Natasha either. After she meets his family and they announce that their cousins are to be married, things began to change. Will’s family was very traditional, and when they found out that Natasha and Will had been together for two years and were still living in their own separate flats, Will hired a realtor and they started looking at homes in Knightsbridge and Belgravia, and they all felt too regal for Natasha’s taste. One afternoon when she’s visiting Ellory and newborn Maude at their home in Mayfair, Natasha comes across a dated townhouse that was for sale. It had crown molding and exposed brick, a dated fireplace and exposed beams that showed the true character of the place. With book three finished and her bank account expanding, Natasha puts a deposit down and they move in a week later.

Not even a year later, Will proposed. At the time, Natasha thought it was everything. She finally felt ready, and she thought that her and Will would be happy together. But then after that he started getting colder, and their relationship started feeling more rushed than ever before. She couldn’t even remember what she loved about him in the first place, and whenever she would ask him why he wanted to marry her, his response was always, “Because that’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Natasha was unhappy. And when they sat down a week after they had already mailed their wedding invitations to their guests, she told him that they shouldn’t get married. She expected Will to put up a fight and beg her to reconsider, but instead he gave out a deep sigh of relief.

A week later he moved out.

And three months after that he was engaged to another woman.

The ringing of the timer rips Natasha out of her thoughts and she laughs quietly when Maude starts jumping up and down in her chair, clapping her sticky hands when Ellory announces that the shortbread is finished.

“Tasha! Will you help us decorate?” Maude asks, grinning up at her mum’s best friend with wide shiny eyes.

“Of course,” Natasha responds, placing her arms under Maude’s armpits and lifting her off the chair and sits her on the granite countertop near the shortbread that’s resting on the cooling rack. Ellory lays out different colored icing, yellows and pinks and blues, and Maude greedily sticks a finger in the pink bowl and brings it up to her mouth when Ellory isn’t looking.

Maude starts to giggle when Natasha raises her eyebrows comically, before copying the three year old and digging a pointer finger into the blue bowl. Maude’s giggles grow louder when Ellory grows suspicious, but Natasha stays quiet, smiling at Maude as if they were sharing a secret.

Midway through icing the shortbread cakes, Natasha’s mobile begins to ring from the island. She groans, knowing that it’s probably Diane asking for an update, but when she gets closer she notices that the number isn’t one she has saved into her contacts, so she brings the phone up to her ear and offers up a quick hello.

“Hi, is this Ms. Reynolds?” a deep voice asks. It’s low and guttural and Natasha instantly recognizes it as the voice of the contractor currently redoing her home office a few streets away.

“Yes, this is she,” she says professionally.

“Right, this is Harry, we’ve spoken a few times before about your renovation. I just thought I’d keep you updated. The desk was delivered later than expected so we’re running a bit behind schedule,” Harry says.

Natasha groans because of course things were running behind schedule. It seemed to be the theme of her life these days.

“Sorry?” the voice asks, and Natasha slaps a hand to her mouth, realizing that her groan came out much louder than expected.

“Nothing. That’s fine, you can stay as late as you can in order to have everything back on schedule. I really would hate to push the completion date any further,” Natasha explains, ignoring the look Ellory gives her from the other side of the kitchen.

“No problem Ms. Reynolds,” Harry responds kindly.

“Thanks for the update,” Natasha says, saying a quick goodbye before ending the call and placing her mobile face down on the countertop.

Things really weren’t going her way.

***

Normally, Natasha leaves Ellory’s house by four o’clock the latest, and by four oh five, her house is void of contractors and construction workers and painters. Ellory offers for Natasha to stay for dinner, but after Maude throws a temper tantrum and Ellory grows increasingly tired from her pregnancy, Natasha decides to just head home. She could avoid the noise of the downstairs office by hiding away in her bedroom on the floor above, and she probably should respond to the growing number of emails in her inbox.

When Natasha arrives at her townhouse, she can already hear the erratic hum of the numerous power tools from inside the office. A large white van with Styles & Co. is parked right outside her front door, with a black pick up truck parked behind her parking spot across the street. Natasha unlocks her front door and is immediately hit with the smell of sawdust.

She closes the door a bit softer than usual so her presence would stay undetected. But while she slips off her flats and discards her jacket in the foyer, she hears the heavy sound of boots come closer and her head snaps up.

In front of her is a tall man with broad shoulders. His brown hair curls over the tips of his ear and stands taller in different areas around his head, most likely from pulling on the strands out of frustration. He has a thin layer of stubble surrounding his mouth and chin, and his green eyes are wide, searching her face the same way she was searching his.

“Ms. Reynolds?” he asks, and his voice has the same timbre as the one she was speaking to on the phone a few hours prior. She cocks her head to the side in surprise, taking in his long jean-clad legs, brown toolbelt, and white henley rolled up at the sleeves, revealing black ink etched onto his tan skin.

“Uh, yeah,” she responds, her mind growing a bit foggy.

He smiles in front of her, revealing a straight set of white teeth. “Hi, I’m Harry,” he says, wiping his hands on the tops of his thighs and extending a long toned forearm.

Natasha is a bit dumbfounded for once, because she figured the Harry she was speaking to on the phone for the past week and a half was someone much older. His deep voice reminded her of her father’s, and she had never come across a contractor so handsome in her entire life.

“Hi,” she responds after she realizes his hand has been extended a bit longer than normal. His eyes stay on hers as they shake once, twice, before her hands retreat back to her sides.

“Your hands are soft,” he says offhandedly, and she’s not entirely sure if he meant to say it outloud. His calloused hands are rough from his work, and when she looks into his eyes with a smile, she can’t see any ounce of regret or embarrassment.

“Thanks,” she says, shouldering her tote bag a little higher on her body.

“We’re almost done for the day, Ms. Reynolds,” Harry explains.

“Natasha’s just fine,” she responds, and she feels even warmer when she hears his Northern accent echo her first name to her.

She likes the way it sounds coming out of his mouth.

“D’ya want to see the progress so far?” Harry offers, hoping she’ll say yes.

Against her plans of retreating in her room to stare blankly at the whiteness of her screen, Natasha nods and follows Harry out of the foyer. The hallway splits in two and he takes a left, bypassing the staircase and entering the back part of the house where Will’s office used to be.

The room is much brighter due to the lighting fixture only having light bulbs without the lampshades. Natasha explained to Harry on the phone that she wanted the room to not be as cold and uninviting, and when he recommended painting the chandelier, she agreed instantly. White tarps were placed over the original hardwood flooring with paint buckets and rollers placed haphazardly around the room. Two other burly men were on the far side of the room near the big bay window, sanding down the large wooden desk and attaching different pieces to the furniture to make it the focal point of the room.

“Wow,” Natasha announces breathlessly, stopping in the middle of the room and looking around with wide eyes. It was such a contrast from what the room was before, and she could feel the weight on her shoulders growing lighter and lighter.

“It’s not nearly finished,” Harry says from behind her. Natasha just shakes her head, realizing that he probably doesn’t understand how much this room transformation actually means to her.

“Oi! ‘Arry! Where’s the cabinet?” One of the voices calls out. He’s older than Harry and has a few wrinkles surrounding his face, but he has kind eyes. His accent makes Natasha smile, and when he looks up he gives her a grin in return.

“Got distracted by the pretty lady, I reckon?” He repeats, and the man to his left cackles. Natasha looks over her shoulder just in time to see the flush creep up Harry’s neck, and she giggles a bit to herself.

“Enough of that, you two. Finish up and I’ll go grab it from the garden,” Harry says, his voice thinning as he retreats towards the back entrance of Natasha’s home where most of the furniture and supplies were situated.

“It looks great, guys. Thank you for your hard work,” Natasha says to the two men, watching as they stop their previous tasks and give her matching grins.

“No problem, lass. Reckon you’ll write another bestseller in this room, aye?” The darker haired man says. His accent is much deeper than the previous man and Harry combined, and Natasha laughs a bit when he mentions her writing.

Before she could respond, Harry is back heaving a large cabinet in front of his chest. Natasha jumps to the side, shocked at how strong he actually is. His long arms were wrapped completely around the piece of furniture, with his large hands fanned out over the doors in order to keep them from opening. He grunts as he places it on the floor in front of the two other men, standing up and wiping his brow with sweat.

Natasha really needed to stop staring.

She coughs to herself, averting her eyes even though she can feel the two other men’s gazes from across the room. She’s sure if she looked over they would have amused looks covering their faces.

“Right. Anybody need water or anything? Tea?” Natasha asks kindly, praying deep down that nobody actually needed anything and she could make herself a brew and hide away in her bedroom for the rest of the evening.

“We’re good lass, thank you,” the older men say, before grabbing a power drill and getting back to work.

“I’m all set, thanks though, Natasha,” Harry says, standing right in front of her. She really wished she didn’t love the way her name sounded leaving his mouth.

“No problem. I’ll leave you boys to it,” she announces, nodding her head before turning on her heel.

Before she enters the kitchen, she chances one last look over her shoulder, and she’s met with bright green eyes and a boyish grin.

She skips making her tea and runs straight upstairs, closing her bedroom door with a loud thud.

***

The next morning, Natasha wakes up much later than expected. After Harry and his crew had left, she went downstairs and made herself a late dinner. After an explosive phone call with Diane, Natasha managed to write two chapters that definitely were not up to her standards. It took her much longer than usual to write, and after a cup of black coffee that she only saves for emergencies only, she couldn’t fall asleep.

She wakes up to the sound of power drills and the smell of paint.

Ellory has called her twice already and texted her enough times to earn an eye roll from Natasha. She knew she was expected over there two hours earlier, but she needed rest. She responds as she’s traipsing down the stairwell in boy shorts, a tank top, and an old flannel button down. Her hair is in a bun and she hasn’t bothered putting her contacts in, and it’s only once she reaches the bottom of the stairs when she realizes that she isn’t wearing a bra.

Harry’s standing before her, green eyes blown wide. Natasha isn’t sure if it’s from her thin tank top and lack of appropriate undergarments, or if he’s just shocked to see her in general.

“Natasha—uh, hi.” He sounds breathless and she just gives him a tired grin, noticing the same two guys from yesterday hauling in different materials from the back garden. The door is open and the chill November air settles into the ground floor, and Natasha crosses her arms over her chest subconsciously.

She hopes Harry doesn’t notice, but she watches his pupils dart down for a millisecond before shooting back up, and her cheeks start to flush.

“Morning Harry,” she replies. “Want some tea? Coffee?”

She starts walking towards the kitchen without waiting for a response. Natasha can hear the heavy clunking of his boots, so she can only assume that he’s taken her up on her offer. He only responds once she’s filled up the kettle and turned the burner on.

“Uh, coffee, black. If you have it,” he asks cautiously. He’s leaning on the doorframe of her open kitchen, unsure if he should step further into the room. Natasha just nods before turning the coffeemaker on, adding grounds to the appropriate compartment and waiting for it to heat up.

She turns around then, resting her tailbone on the lower cabinets of the kitchen. Harry saunters forward, before sitting down on the barstool across from her, resting his arms on the countertop. She waits for him to say something.

“Figured you’d be at work or something,” Harry says after a beat.

“Slept in, I suppose.” Natasha shrugs, pivoting on her heel and grabbing two porcelain mugs from above and placing them on the granite.

“Sorry if we woke you,” Harry says, watching as she pours his coffee before grabbing her tea bag and pouring the hot water from the steaming kettle into her matching mug. He thanks her quietly when she places his mug in front of him.

“Nonsense. I should have been up hours ago,” Natasha responds as she’s steeping her tea.

She watches him idly as he wraps his long fingers around the mug. Without thinking, her eyes drift down to his left hand, second spot in from his pinky finger. It’s bare, and she squints under her glasses to try and see a tan line in the place where a wedding band should be. Maybe he doesn’t wear it while he’s working, she thinks to herself.

Harry of course is watching her, and he doesn’t need to mimic her inquiries in order to make an educated guess that she is in fact single. The foyer is filled with women’s jackets and high heeled boots, and in the two weeks he’s been working on her office, there’s been no trace of a man coming and going.

He doesn’t say anything, though. Just continues to let her stare.

“Will you be here all day?” He asks finally, watching as her brown eyes dart up to his face. She doesn’t seem embarrassed that she’s been caught.

“Probably. The glory of my profession—I can permanently work from home,” she offers with a hint of amusement, and Harry laughs softly to fill the space.

“Well, I’ll make sure we stay out of your hair,” he says, taking a large gulp of his coffee and standing up from the chair.

Natasha just smiles. “Don’t worry about me.”

Harry smiles back. “Cheers for the coffee,” he says, grasping the white mug in his hands and exiting the kitchen before taking a right and following the hallway down into the office.

Natasha goes back upstairs and writes three more chapters. When she checks the time and realizes that it’s a little past noon, she goes downstairs and hears silence. She enters her kitchen and prepares a small salad, and when she finishes to clean her plate, she notices the white mug resting on the drying rack.

She smiles for what feels like the fifteenth time that day.

***

Natasha and Harry have fallen into the habit of having tea and coffee together each morning. She starts staying home to finish her book, ignoring Ellory’s questions on what suddenly has changed for her.

“Inspiration,” Natasha would respond, offering nothing else.

They don’t really talk about much, her and Harry. She tells him about her book and he tells her about his house that he’s almost finished renovating in Chiswick. He tells her that he grew up in Cheshire and she tells him that her family home is about a thirty minute drive away. They don’t talk about the reason why she’s remodeling the office or why Harry is the only thirty-two year old Natasha knows who isn’t engaged or married.

Harry estimates that the remodel should be finished in about a week’s time, and Natasha somehow feels a bit sad about that. At one point she schemes of a way to delay the remodel, to ensure that Harry will be around for a bit longer than seven days. But she knows she’s ridiculous. She knows he probably has way better things to do than hang around her house in Mayfair.

One afternoon after she’s finished writing chapter twenty-nine, she hears a loud bang from the room below her. Immediately she flies down the stairs, takes a sharp right, and enters the office with wide eyes. In front of her, the coffee table that was supposed to be where the seating area would be is in shambles. The glass covering has cracked, and she checks the white tarp for spots of blood.

Rory and Gareth, Harry’s workers, are swearing at each other. They obviously figured that the glass would stay intact from the shipment center they ordered it from, but when they opened the box, they found that it was in twelve different pieces. She notices Harry in the corner, frustratedly pulling at his hair.

“Everyone okay?” Natasha asks, mainly directing the question at Harry. She can sense his annoyance from the other side of the room.

“We’re alrigh’, Natasha. The fuckin’ idiots who packaged the table clearly did a terrible job at it! It’s fuckin’ fallin’ apart!” Rory says loudly, his voice getting louder with each curse that passes his lips.

“It’s fine, I’ll reorder another one. Just please be careful when removing the glass from the house, I don’t want anybody to get hurt,” Natasha orders, watching as Rory and Gareth reach into their back pockets to retrieve gloves. They start picking up the glass shards slowly, before placing them into the cardboard box.

Harry just watches her, feeling the frustradness leaving his body. She’s very gentle, and watches the guys like a hawk, ensuring that they don’t get injured. Before they’ve finished, Harry announces that they can go and take their lunch break. Rory and Gareth thank him repeatedly, announcing that they need a smoke after the table debacle.

“I made too much stir fry, if you’re hungry,” Natasha says once the boys have driven off to eat their lunch in the park.

“Starved,” Harry replies with a grin. He follows her down the hallway and into the kitchen, admiring her long legs under her leggings. The jumper she’s wearing is big and warm, and his eyes latch onto her right shoulder, watching as the fabric hangs revealing smooth white skin.

Natasha fills up two bowls and they sit at the breakfast nook on the far side of the kitchen near four windows. He watches as she slides her glasses up her forehead, resting them like a headband in her dark hair. He thinks she’s the prettiest girl he’s seen in a long time.

“How’s the book coming along?” He asks after a few bites.

“Surprisingly, not as terrible as I thought. I’m actually right on target to finish it on the deadline,” Natasha replies. And it’s true—she’s gotten more writing done in her busy townhouse than she ever did in Ellory’s home, hiding away from Maude in closets and unused bedrooms.

“That’s great. You didn’t want to wait until your office was finished?” Harry asks, and Natasha can almost feel the follow up question coming.

“Didn’t want to fall behind schedule,” she replies quietly, waiting for him to just say it.

“Why did you decide to do a full renovation right before your deadline, then?”

And there it is.

It’s not like she still cares for Will. Because those feelings for him have been left in the past. Although it took her a little while to fix her messy heart, the sudden news of his brand new proposal practically catapulted Natasha into officially feeling nothing for him. But, whenever she tells the story to somebody, she’s always hit with a pitiful look. Everyone always tells her the same things: I’m so sorry, and, I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel, and, you’ll find someone much better than him.

She didn’t want Harry to look at her that way. She didn’t want to hear her name fall from his lips at the end of one of those sentences.

“You’re asking a lot of questions,” Natasha says, deflecting.

Harry pauses, knowing.

“Didn’t mean to overstep,” Harry says, holding up his hands in surrender.

Natasha just shakes her head, takes another bite, and racks her brain for anything else to say to take the attention away from herself and her failing relationship.

“So, what about you? Where are you hiding the ring?” She asks, noticing the way Harry practically chokes on his chicken and rice.

“Sorry?” He’s completely confused.

“Your wedding ring. I assumed you didn’t work with it, which is smart, because it’ll practically get ruined with all the hammering and sawing you do. Plus, you’re always on the phone in hushed conversations, and Rory and Gareth are always talking about the pretty girl you never shut up about, so I assumed…” Natasha’s voice trails off as she notices the pained look fall across Harry’s face.

For the first time in a long time, she’s said too much.

“Why do you assume I’m married?” Is what Harry chooses to ask her.

She’s grown quiet, unsure of how to respond. “Well, you’re in your thirties. And you’ve recently renovated a home in Chiswick. Most people who live in Chiswick plan on having children to fill those rooms up.” Natasha suddenly starts wondering if her logic is flawed.

The pained expression on his face grows bigger, and she watches as he gently places his fork against the glass bowl, seemingly finished with his lunch.

“I was in a relationship. We were together for awhile, and I was planning on surprising her with the house in Chiswick because I was ready for the next step. She wasn’t. She left and I spent a year renovating a house that had three bedrooms next to a school by myself.” He stands up, walking halfway towards the door before turning around and looking at Natasha.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” He says, anger radiating off of him.

Natasha isn’t sure how to respond.

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Harry says sadly, shaking his head and looking down at the tiled flooring. “You never bothered to ask.”

And with that, he walks out the front door and she can hear the tires of his car skid away.

Natasha spends the rest of the night holed up in her room, typing and retyping chapter thirty. It stays unfinished.

***

Three days goes by and Natasha feels absolutely horrible. She tries to avoid going downstairs as much as she can, because she knows the second she sees Harry’s face she’ll start feeling even worse. She sneaks out the front door when she knows they’re working in the back part of her house. Instead of going to Ellory’s, she walks and walks around London. She ignores her emails, ignores her book, and starts analyzing why she’s so messed up.

It was horrible of her to assume that Harry was married. He’s spent the past few weeks drinking coffee and chatting with her, and he was the closest thing she had to a friend in a long time. All of her other friends were Will’s friends, sans Ellory, so when they broke up and he left, they stopped inviting her around.

Harry was the first person who actually tried to get to know her. And Natasha kept continuously keeping him at arm’s length. She didn’t want him to ask the questions that everybody else asks, but thinking about it all now, she knows that Harry would never look at her the same way the rest of them did.

She was forced into a world she didn’t fit into. She was simply Natasha, a girl who loves to write, can sometimes forget to make her bed, and always puts too much sugar in her tea. She ignores her scary editor and she can only make stir fry and scrambled eggs, and she spent the last few years of her life feeling vastly insignificant compared to Will and his elitist friends. She shouldn’t have made assumptions about Harry, because that’s what people have been doing about her for the better part of her twenties.

There’s a reason why her writing increased tenfold when things were going well with Harry. He was kind and beautiful and inspired her, and now that things are shit, her writing has been horrible. She’s having trouble connecting words into sentences and she knows that’s because she needs to set things straight with Harry.

When she gets to her front door, she doesn’t even stop to pull it shut completely. She’s on a mission, her legs dragging her down the hallway before she can even peel her trainers off her feet. She enters the room without saying hello to Rory and Gareth—instead she eyes the curly headed boy in the corner, leveling shelves before she calls out his name.

She watches his body turn rigid. Rory and Gareth look between the two of them as if they know too much. They try and get back to work, but Natasha can feel their eyes on her. Harry lowers the leveler and looks at her with a blank look on his face.

“Can I talk to you, please?” She asks, and she’s pretty sure he only agrees because he can hear the desperation in her voice.

He follows her out into the back garden, past the tools and materials and into the verandah. Most of the time she sits here with a book and a warm mug of tea and forgets about the world for awhile. But now, she’s hyper aware of Harry’s eyes on her frame, and suddenly she feels much smaller than usual.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, brown eyes meeting green.

“Natasha—”

“No let me finish.” Harry’s lips shut tight and he nods slowly, watching Natasha take a deep breath in and out.

“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have assumed anything about you. The reason I asked you to renovate my office was because it used to be my fiancé’s. It didn’t work out, it was all too much, and then a few months later he was engaged to someone else.” She pauses, waiting for the look of pity, the awkward apology, the acknowledgement of her sadness.

Instead, his eyes are focused on hers. And she continues.

“I wasted too much time with him. He made me out to be this person I wasn’t, and whenever I was with him, I felt inferior. It felt like I had to dim my shine so he could glow the brightest for the both of us. I was so stupid, ya know?”

Harry doesn’t answer, and she doesn’t expect him to.

“I chose this house. Our agreement was that he got the office. But when he left, it took me a while to figure myself out. And then when I heard he was getting married, I changed everything back to the way I wanted. I got new linens. I bought new mugs. The last thing was the office.” Her eyes are downcast, staring at her Nike’s. She knows that Harry probably wasn’t expecting her to unload all of this on her, but she needed to do it.

Suddenly, she sees the toes of his leather work boots touching her black trainers. Her eyes shoot up and Harry is standing right in front of her, closer than ever before, and he’s looking at her so intensely and she feels warm all over.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he says so softly that Natasha has to lean in to hear him.

“I, uh—you’re welcome. I should’ve told you that a few days ago, to be fair,” Natasha replies, her cheeks feeling flushed.

Before he can say another word, or possibly step a few inches closer so their lips are touching, Gareth calls out Harry’s name and she can almost hear the whine lodged in his throat. He looks as if he doesn’t want to leave, as if he’s anchored down to the flooring of the verandah, but Gareth calls out again and Natasha just tells him that he should go, and their warm bubble is suddenly popped.

That night, Natasha writes three more chapters and has the best sleep of her life.

***

Before Natasha can even comprehend, it’s the last day of the remodel. When she wakes up, Harry is waiting for her by the foyer like usual. She makes him his black coffee and she drinks her tea, and just before they part ways until the afternoon for lunch, Harry asks her if she could step out for the day until they were completely finished.

“Are you hiding something from me?” Natasha asks, cocking her head to the side and trying to persuade Harry into telling her. She hates surprises, and was never fond of them growing up. So whatever Harry had up his sleeve, she wanted to know.

He just gives her that grin of hers she’s grown to love. “No more questions. I’ll see you at five.” And with that, he places his hand on her lower back and shoves her gently towards the stairs.

“You’re infuriating,” Natasha says, lying through her teeth.

“And no peeking on your way out!” Harry shouts from the back of her house.

Natasha begrudgingly obliges, deciding to spend the rest of her day at Ellory’s house with Maude. For the first time in a while, she goes over without her laptop. Instead, she brings a children’s book for Maude, and the three of them spend the afternoon playing games and running around. When Maude goes down for a nap and it’s just Ellory and Natasha lounging on the sofa, Ellory finally acknowledges her good mood.

“What’s got your spirits so high? Or should I dare say, who?” Natasha just laughs, shaking her head to try and distract from the growing redness creeping up her neck and settling on her cheeks.

“It’s nothing, El. For once, I’m just letting things happen without planning beforehand,” Natasha explains, this time actually believing herself.

“Well, I for one am excited,” Ellory says, grabbing her best friend’s hand and giving it a tight squeeze. No matter what happens in Natasha’s life, she’s always been grateful for Ellory’s love and support. And sometimes, that’s all you can ask for.

With four creeping up, Natasha starts getting anxious. Maude overheard Ellory and Natasha talking about the renovation, and she can sense her mother’s excitement in the air. She starts begging Natasha to let them come see it with her.

“Of course, Maude. You’re always welcome at my house.” Maude grins and wraps her arms around Natasha’s neck, and just like that, she feels her anxiousness settle.

Ellory wraps Maude up in a trench coat, and the three of them tread over towards Natasha’s townhouse. Natasha keeps clicking the lock screen on to check the time every thirty seconds, and Ellory just stays quiet, eyeing her best friend suspiciously. Maude is positioned between the two, her small hands grasping one of Ellory’s and Natasha’s.

When they reach the front door, Rory and Gareth are settling into the white Styles & Co. van on the street. Natasha walks up to the window, knocks gently, and waits for Rory to push the button to lower it.

“Miss Natasha,” Rory says with a smile. Natasha grins back, and there’s no denying that she’s grown fond of these two men the past two weeks.

“I guess this is it, boys,” she says sadly, watching as Gareth gives her a knowing look.

“I’m sure you’ll see us around, lass.” Natasha just rolls her eyes, because of course they know that she’s grown extra fond of their boss. They have been watching them for weeks now, laughing to themselves and saying more with just looks between the two of them than words ever could.

“Thanks again for everything,” Natasha says sincerely.

Rory just grins, reaching out and giving her forearm a squeeze. Words aren’t needed.

“Auntie Tasha, come on! Let’s go see!” Maude calls out impatiently from the front steps. Ellory is still holding onto her hand, but her eyes are on Natasha with an amused look.

Natasha walks by them and reaches for the door, feeling Maude wrap her tiny arms around her left leg. She grins down at the toddler before grabbing her hand and dragging her into the foyer, discarding her coat and boots at the door.

“Five on the dot,” Natasha hears from down the hallway. She starts to smile immediately, hearing Maude ask Ellory in the background who that voice was. Ellory looks just as confused as her daughter, and suddenly, Harry is in front of them.

He’s wearing dark jeans and a light patterned button down shirt, opened enough so that Natasha can see his thin white tank top underneath. For the first time since knowing him, he’s wearing Chelsea boots instead of his work boots. He looks even more handsome dressed up, and Natasha can’t help but blush when looking at him.

“Who’s this?” Ellory asks, although she can already tell that this is the boy who’s made her best friend unequivocally happy these past few weeks. Harry extends a hand in greeting, and Ellory looks at Natasha with a smirk on her face.

Maude is hiding behind Natasha’s leg, hand still wrapped around her kneecap.

“Maude, do you want to say hello to my friend?” Natasha whispers, watching as Maude’s big blue eyes look up at her, then over to Harry, then back to her.

She nods before walking in front of Natasha. Harry crouches down so he’s eye level with Maude, and Natasha can’t help but feel the swell in her heart.

“Hi there, I’m Harry,” he says, gently sticking his hand out to shake.

Maude wraps two of her hands around one of his, shaking it up and down a few times until she giggles quietly. “Hi Hawwy. I’m Maude.”

“That’s a pretty name. How old are you?” he asks, grinning when her personality starts to shine through in front of him.

“Fwee! Auntie Tasha says I’m the best fwee year old she’s met,” Maude announces, and Natasha grins down as Harry’s green eyes meet hers.

“I’m sure your Auntie Tasha is right.”

Maude begins to babble and Ellory reaches out to grab her hand, shushing her so that Harry can show them the office. He leads the way, and Natasha starts feeling butterflies flutter in the pits of her stomach. She’s not sure if it’s from Harry or the office or both, but she can practically hear her heartbeat in her ears.

Just before the office comes into view, Harry stops short and Natasha almost runs right into his back.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Harry starts, “but I found some boxes in the storage room and I figured an author should have a library so, I sort of took the liberty of making you your own bookshelf.” He looked bashful, but curiosity was eating her alive, because she knows exactly what boxes Harry’s talking about.

They were the culmination of her favorite books since she was a child. Collecting books was what made her want to write her own, and her tiny flat in the middle of London was filled to the brim with them. But when she moved into the Mayfair house with Will, he only offered her the bookshelf near the kitchen nook that only held about fifteen novels. She had kept the rest stowed away in the storage room, allowing them to fill with dust, unused.

When Natasha steps around Harry and the office comes into light, she’s floored. Her hand shoots up to her mouth in awe, and she can practically hear her heart beating out of her chest.

The original brick flooring that Will had covered up in favor of a more traditional hardwood look was finally given the light of day. Surrounding the wooden door on each side was an archway of bookshelves, curving around the door. It had seven shelves on each side with an eighth over top in the middle, each filled to the brim with all of Natasha’s books.

“Harry…” Natasha is not one for stunned silence, so this is a first for her.

Harry looks sheepish as Maude ogles at the sheer amount of books. “Mummy, is this every book in the world?”

“In Natasha’s world, my love,” Ellory responds quietly, watching her best friend in awe.

Natasha walks through the door and the room is lighter than anywhere else in the house. It reminds her of the verandah in the back garden that she’s grown to love, filled with white wood and green plants. The coffee table has new glass, the love seat and matching chairs are tan and pale yellow respectively. Her actual office desk is white and vast and exceptional. Her laptop and desktop are placed up top, with her best selling books framed on the side. A giant blush pink office chair sits on wheels with her favorite bay window behind her.

She’s absolutely floored. Maude being the toddler that she is runs straight into the room, gasping at everything in awe. She tries to climb on the desk chair and Natasha can see Ellory begin to scold her daughter, but all she can think about is Harry.

Harry.

She turns around and he’s right where she’s left him. His bashfulness has grown to sheepish, and with one enormous grin, she runs towards him and engulfs him in the biggest hug she could muster.

He leans back, surprised at the gesture, but then his strong arms snake around her back and settle on her tailbone. Her arms are locked around his neck, and she can feel him bend down and breathe into the crook of her neck.

“I don’t know what to say other than thank you,” she whispers, her lips falling over the swallows tattooed under his collarbone due to their height difference.

“You’re welcome, Natasha.” There’s her name again, falling beautifully past his lips. She removes her hands from his neck and leans back so she can look into his deep green eyes. They’re standing close to each other again, just like they were in the verandah, but this time they both have no desire to let go.

“The bookshelf—I just. It means so much to me. I don’t know how to repay you,” Natasha says breathlessly.

Harry just smiles softly. “You deserve it, Natasha. You don’t have to repay me. I wanted to do this for you.”

Before she could react, Maude suddenly appears below them, her tiny fist tugging at the bottom of Harry’s jeans.

“Do you think you could make me a bookshelf, Hawwy?” Maude asks shyly.

Natasha looks at Ellory, and for the first time in five years she actually feels something. She feels excited, she feels hopeful, she feels as if everything is starting to make sense to her. And Ellory knows this, and she looks at her best friend with the warmest smile she could muster.

Harry is crouched down in front of Maude. “Of course I can. Whatever you want.”

Harry looks up and Natasha is giving her a look that he hasn’t seen before. He can feel Maude giggle excitedly in front of him, her little hands leaning on his thighs, but all he can think about is Natasha and her brown eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he jokes, standing up and wrapping his arms around her body again.

“I can’t help it, I’m just really happy,” Natasha replies, feeling the light inside of her burn brighter than ever before.

And for the first time in a long time, Harry can feel it too, and together they shine brighter than the sun.

#majorharry20k #harrystylesfanfiction #harrystyles #new fic #1dff #updates

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

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Welllp These Are Books: the April 2021 Edition

I did not read Romeo and Juliet this month. I read a bunch of other books. Like, a bunch. More than one series. Because Big Bang burnout is real and grown adults missing their deadlines is a real good way to stress me out. So, I read a bunch. Good books, very bad books, books that caused limbs to flail. For positive and not-so-positive reasons. Naturally, all those reasons must be shared. Under the cut with occasionally long and rant-prone reviews, as well as spoilers. Beware of spoilers under the cut. Please keep telling me what to read, internet. My library wish list is almost comically long now.

GIVE ME ALL THE WORLD BUILDING AND SNARK AND FIGHTING! WITH MAGIC! AND SWORDS! IT’S MY FAVORITE THING IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD!

Shades of Magic Series by V.E. Schwab

Kell is one of the last Antari—magicians with a rare, coveted ability to travel between parallel Londons; Red, Grey, White, and, once upon a time, Black. After an exchange goes awry, Kell escapes to Grey London and runs into Delilah Bard, a cut-purse with lofty aspirations. Now perilous magic is afoot, and treachery lurks at every turn. To save all of the worlds, they'll first need to stay alive.

— Picture it, approximately twelve forty-seven am. My husband is asleep. I am reading. The second book in this series ends. And I say, right out loud, at what might now be twelve forty-eight am, HOLY SHIT IT JUST ENDED. Justin thought we were under attack. No man has ever snapped awake quicker. He was not pleased. At least not in the same way that I was about these books. Which I goddamn LOVED. Loved. The world building. The magic. The banter. Rhy and Kell’s relationship. Once more. RHY AND KELL’S RELATIONSHIP. Which I might have cared about more than the romance??? Maybe??? I cannot get over how good this world building was. I know people have quips with it, and that’s fair. I saw the “twist” coming in the first book, and I think trying to preserve that left some plot holes that are understandably frustrating. Because Lilah definitely needed depth perception to fight as well as she did. Also did Schwab really refer to her as a cross dresser in her author’s note? Yikes. She wore a dude’s jacket, like—c’mon V.E. Other than that though. I loved it. Also shout out to @peglegsjones for suggesting this one in my 2020 post and call out to me for taking so long to read it.

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

Ketterdam: a bustling hub of international trade where anything can be had for the right price—and no one knows that better than criminal prodigy Kaz Brekker. Kaz is offered a chance at a deadly heist that could make him rich beyond his wildest dreams. But he can't pull it off alone. . . . A convict with a thirst for revenge. A sharpshooter who can't walk away from a wager. A runaway with a privileged past. A spy known as the Wraith. A Heartrender using her magic to survive the slums. A thief with a gift for unlikely escapes. Six dangerous outcasts. One impossible heist. Kaz's crew is the only thing that might stand between the world and destruction—if they don't kill each other first.

— I’ve talked about how little I cared about anything that happened in Shadow and Bone before, but I kept seeing gifs of the Crows in the Netflix show and my brain was like: huh, I could like them. So, after some help from the very helpful internet, I’m happy to report I do in fact like them. At one point, I slunk into the couch. Like that’s how overcome with emotion I was. Kaz ripped a dude’s eye out! For Inej! Matthias loved Nina’s laugh! I would like to hug Jesper. Seriously, this hit all my high points and world building and banter and I lol’ed at “scheming face.” I would like my hold to come through faster on the sequel.

THEY DID NOT CALL INTERMISSION HALFTIME AND MY COLLEGE EXPERIENCE WAS WAY DIFFERENT THAN THESE KIDS

The Off Campus Series by Elle Kennedy

Hannah Wells has finally found someone who turns her on. But while she might be confident in every other area of her life, she’s carting around a full set of baggage when it comes to sex and seduction. If she wants to get her crush’s attention, she’ll have to step out of her comfort zone and make him take notice…even if it means tutoring the annoying, childish, cocky captain of the hockey team in exchange for a pretend date. All Garrett Graham has ever wanted is to play professional hockey after graduation, but his plummeting GPA is threatening everything he’s worked so hard for. If helping a sarcastic brunette make another guy jealous will help him secure his position on the team, he’s all for it. But when one unexpected kiss leads to the wildest sex of both their lives, it doesn’t take long for Garrett to realize that pretend isn’t going to cut it. Now he just has to convince Hannah that the man she wants looks a lot like him.

— The first book in this series was free on Amazon. So, I read it. And really liked it??? It was so chock full of cliches and badly written tropes and Garrett probably should have accepted that Hannah didn’t want to go out at the start, but like—he was cute? And as we all know I am TRASH™ for stories set in the same verse, so, like, I just kept reading these trashy college hockey books. Trashy is a compliment here. God, these kids had so much sex. So much. An incredible amount, really. I once had a guy tell me he was physically attracted to me, but not emotionally attracted to me in college. Like, that was my college experience. The first and second books were the best, I think. I didn’t really like Dean that much.

MAYBE IT WAS BECAUSE HE WAS A RABBI???

The Intimacy Experiement by Rosie Danan

Naomi Grant has built her life around going against the grain. After the sex-positive start-up she cofounded becomes an international sensation, she wants to extend her educational platform to live lecturing. Unfortunately, despite her long list of qualifications, higher ed won't hire her. Ethan Cohen has recently received two honors: LA Mag nominated him as one of the city's hottest bachelors and he became rabbi of his own synagogue. Low on both funds and congregants, the executive board of Ethan's new shul hired him with the hopes that his nontraditional background will attract more millennials to the faith. They've given him three months to turn things around or else they'll close the doors of his synagogue for good. Naomi and Ethan join forces to host a buzzy seminar series on Modern Intimacy, the perfect solution to their problems--until they discover a new one--their growing attraction to each other. They've built the syllabus for love's latest experiment, but neither of them expected they'd be the ones putting it to the test.

— Ok, I know that sounds bad. Again, I’m a creature of predictable habit and this was the sequel to The Roommate, which I absolutely LOVED last year. But where as the relationship in that one was kind of swoony, this one was...I don’t know, really. Everyone was a well-rounded character and the plot was good, but there was this semi-invisible something that made it difficult for me to get fully on board with the whole story. Honestly, it might be because he was a religious figure?? Also, they got together real quick. Like zero to sixty in twenty-six seconds flat.

I KNOW IT’S BAD, IT WAS BAD AND YET—I CANNOT STOP READING IT???

Too Wild to Tame by Tessa Bailey

Sometimes you just can't resist playing with fire . . . By day, Aaron Clarkson suits up, shakes hands, and acts the perfect gentleman. But at night, behind bedroom doors, the tie comes off and the real Aaron comes out to play. Mixing business with pleasure got him fired, so Aaron knows that if he wants to work for the country's most powerful senator, he'll have to keep his eye on the prize. That's easier said than done when he meets the senator's daughter, who's wild, gorgeous, and 100 percent trouble. Grace Pendleton is the black sheep of her conservative family. Yet while Aaron's presence reminds her of a past she'd rather forget, something in his eyes keeps drawing her in. Maybe it's the way his voice turns her molten. Or maybe it's because deep down inside, the ultra-smooth, polished Aaron Clarkson might be more than even Grace can handle . . .

— Last month I read the first book in this series and it was absolutely ridiculous. This one even more so. The Clarksons are still on the road trip (sans one sibling because she fell in love in a week in the first book) and Aaron was, like, not a root’able character? Very Edward Cullen I’M A BAD GUY, BELLA vibes and his relationship with Grace was so strange. Super rushed again, obvs. Meeting in the woods is weird enough. Professing love forty-eight hours later is decidedly unbelievable. Also there was a kidnapping involved? I totally put a hold on the next book in the series.

COME UP WITH DIFFERENT TRAUMA, I DARE YOU! OR NO TRAUMA. WHAT A CONCEPT!!

The Trouble With Hating You by Sajni Patel

Liya Thakkar is a successful biochemical engineer, takeout enthusiast, and happily single woman. The moment she realizes her parents' latest dinner party is a setup with the man they want her to marry, she's out the back door in a flash. Imagine her surprise when the same guy shows up at her office a week later -- the new lawyer hired to save her struggling company. What's not surprising: he's not too thrilled to see her either after that humiliating fiasco.

Jay Shah looks good on paper...and off. Especially if you like that whole gorgeous, charming lawyer-in-a-good-suit thing. He's also infuriating. As their witty office banter turns into late-night chats, Liya starts to think he might be the one man who truly accepts her. But falling for each other means exposing their painful pasts. Will Liya keep running, or will she finally give love a real chance?

— I had such high hopes for this one. Which is on me, I guess. Because I didn’t hate this one, but it was...not great. Maybe I’m just getting old and crotchety but I am BEGGING romance writers to come up with different trauma for their female protagonists. Not every woman has to have been assaulted to rationalize their current personality. Doesn’t have to happen. Like, ok, yes it does happen. Far more than it should. But that’s an entirely different story, and I am so tired of female characters getting absolutely destroyed by their past only to have that be their defining characteristic for so much of the book. Until a nice man they were initially mean to shows up and he’s UNDERSTANDING and he CARES and it’s just, bleh. It’s bleh. Tired and predictable and I’m over it.

IN WHICH I SHOULD HAVE LOOKED AT THE COVER

Much Ado About You by Samantha Young

At thirty-three-years old Evangeline Starling’s life in Chicago is missing that special something. And when she’s passed over for promotion at work, Evie realizes she needs to make a change. Some time away to regain perspective might be just the thing. In a burst of impulsivity, she plans a holiday in a quaint English village. The holiday package comes with a temporary position at Much Ado About Books, the bookstore located beneath her rental apartment. There’s no better dream vacation for the bookish Evie, a life-long Shakespeare lover. Not only is Evie swept up in running the delightful store as soon as she arrives, she’s drawn into the lives, loves and drama of the friendly villagers. Including Roane Robson, the charismatic and sexy farmer who tempts Evie every day with his friendly flirtations. Evie is determined to keep him at bay because a holiday romance can only end in heartbreak, right? But Evie can’t deny their connection and longs to trust in her handsome farmer that their whirlwind romance could turn in to the forever kind of love.

— Ok, so I had had this book on hold for so long that I genuinely forgot about it and forgot who it was written by. Samantha Young wrote that one book that I called the worst book I had ever read. Only I did not realize that when I started reading this one. So, you see how this sets us up for disaster. Because this book was a disaster. Everyone was goddamn annoying. And whiny. Shit, everyone whined. About everything. Also, the actual writing was atrocious. I am not usually one to be like “men can’t write,” but at one point I told both @shireness-says and @optomisticgirl that this book must have been secretly written by a man because no woman writing it would be so obsessed with pointing out where her cellulite was. Like, what??? Also the first sex scene? Oh my God, I laughed. Guffawed. The so-called love interest literally asked: “Are we going to have sex now?” And then they just did. It was so bad. Also there was a dog? Who went everywhere with the so-called love interest. And they just never explained that? I thought it was going to be part of some crushing and depressing backstory. Nah, he was just there.

HOLY SHIT THIS WAS SO DUMB I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS WAS A BOOK! A BOOK MEANT FOR YOUNG ADULTS! WHAT IS YOUNG ADULT???

The Queen’s Secret by Melissa de la Cruz

Lilac's birthright makes her the Queen of Renovia, and a forced marriage made her the Queen of Montrice. But being a ruler does not mean making the rules. For Lilac, taking the throne means giving up the opportunity to be with love of her life, the kingdom's assassin, Caledon Holt. Worse, Cale is forced to leave the castle when a horrific set of magical attacks threatens Lilac's sovereignty. Now Cal eand Lilac will have to battle dark forces separately, even though being together is the only thing that's ever saved them.

— Remember last month when I was like: can’t wait for my hold to come through on this sequel so I know what happens? What an idiot. THIS BOOK WAS SO DUMB I CANNOT BELIEVE IT WAS A BOOK. As always in my rage-induced rants, no apologies for spoilers because seriously do NOT read this, but Lilac (legit, that was her name) married some other dude but just kept fucking Cale??? Like she had a secret door? So he could come in and they could fuck?? I just—oh my God. So, all these things kept happening. Magic and bad stuff and horses were killed. Lilac’s mother was the absolute WORST. Honestly the most worthless character who at one point was like “well, my story is over, guess it’s time to leave,” and then just left?? Forced Lilac into a marriage of alliance and no love and then everything evil was defeated in point two four seconds. It happened so fast I wasn’t even sure it happened. So, then I’m like, ok, how are Lilac and Cale going to end up together? Because this is YA and that’s how it’s supposed to work. Only her being married and that marriage requiring an heir is something of a rather large hurdle. Don’t worry! Remember when Lilac and Cale were fucking? Everyone totally knew. Including the king Lilac is married to. Who is somehow like...ok with this? And tells Cale that Lilac is pregnant. ISN’T THAT WONDERFUL! Sure, because now they can lie and claim its the king’s heir. ONLY IT’S CALE’S KID! AND CALE IS COOL WITH THIS! His entire internal monologue during this is about how he realizes he might not ever be able to tell his kid he’s their father, but he’ll be around and that’s good. Wait, what??? But there’s more! Not only is Lilac having Cale’s kid, but the king she’s married to is in love with one of Cale’s spy associates. So the king and the spy are going to go hang out (and presumably have their own kids) at one castle and Lilac and Cale are going to go to another. Lilac and the king never get divorced or annulled or whatever. Everyone stays as is and married as is and—they all live happily ever after? This was presented as a good ending, I swear. What the shit, guys, seriously.

#book rec #book reccs #fantasy recommendations #rom com recs #laura reads books #i am still waiting for people to respond to my emails #and only vaguely stressed out about it #welllp these are books

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my-happy-little-bean · 3 years

Text

The Bookkeeper – Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Nihilism and the Death of Art (II)

pairings: logan/patton (logicality), roman/virgil (prinxiety) words: 2425 chapter warnings: swearing, arguments, drinking, existential crisis chapter summary: even the greatest artists suffer from the fall

[read on ao3] [masterlist]

< previous chapter

—

Imagine for a moment, anything at all.

One picks the tools—the instrument, the pen, the paintbrush, the tip of an index finger—and finds places where they fit…

If those places even exist at all.

If there’s anything at all. If there’s anything, anything–

When there’s no initial meaning or ultimate meaning or something, anything,

is there anything anything anything anyt–

Logan cursed as he slammed his pen into the counter, bringing himself up with it until he was standing, doubled over the table with his palms flat on the surface. His chair knocked against the shelves behind him.

Logan ripped the piece of paper out of the spiral binding of his notebook and hurled it towards the garbage can to his left. He heard the soft sound of it hitting the rim and sighed, flicking his wrist and–

The paper ball fell to the floor. Logan blinked, looking at his outstretched hand.

Nothing.

He slowly lowered his hand and flopped back in his chair with a sigh. His eyes drifted over to his copy of Nihilism and the Death of Art , which still laid open on the counter.

Only a week had passed since he had tumbled out of Virgil’s book nook—seemingly without his magic—yet it felt like the time between then and now moved sluggishly. He barely saw Patton, for many assumed reasons; either Patton was too afraid to step back into Logan's life, or he knew it was best not to. Roman, of course, was nowhere to be found, and to make matters worse—if they could even be worse—the deadline for his speech was in two days and he had nothing.

Nothing nothing nothing not–

The shop door opened, soft bells chiming throughout the room. Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Welcome to Fray and Far Fables, how can I–”

“Logan?”

Logan’s eyes darted up. Shit.

“Patton!” He straightened himself up his chair, adjusting his tie and running a hand through his frazzled hair. “I’m– you’re... hi. ”

“Hi,” Patton said, stretching the word out with hesitancy. He leaned over the front counter. “I haven’t seen you in a bit, and I was just, um, wondering if you’re…”

Logan forced his mouth into a flat smile.

“I’m...yeah. I’m okay, I’m...just okay.”

Patton frowned. Logan watched his gaze shift to the crumpled piece of paper on the floor, as well as the scattered papers surrounding him, filled to each end in red ink. Logan cursed under his breath. Good. This was all just...good.

“If you say so.” Patton shrugged. “Anyway, I’m here to pick up a book if you have any recommendations!” He waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe we can look for some together?”

Logan forced his stare down at the notebook in front of him.

“They’re all fine books, Patton. You’d like anything.”

The words fall a bit more icily than he had intended. Logan snuck a glance up and saw each one hit Patton’s chest with a deafening thump! only he could hear. He winced.

“Right.” Patton gritted his teeth into a smile. “I’ll, um, take a look.”

Logan sighed, defeated, and nodded wordlessly. The two of them sat in a heavy silence before Patton cleared his throat.

“Oh! I almost forgot! On the way here, I ran into your friend from the museum– Janus! Yes, Janus. They say hi, first of all. And they also said that whenever you’d like to, they would love to show you around for that tour! If we start heading there after I find a book, we can make it there soon — they told me that now’s a pretty good time to beat the crowds—”

“I’m not going.”

Patton’s smile, in a more unnerving turn of events, only brightened.

“It could be fun to, um...maybe leave the shop? Even just for a bit?”

“Patton…”

“I’m sure Roman wouldn’t mind, I know Janus would love for you to go– I would love to go with you–”

“I said no , Patton.”

“It– it could be your art-venture, Lo–”

“There are no more art-ventures,” Logan snapped, slamming his fists onto the desk. Patton’s breath hitched at the noise. “There’s– there’s no more art-ventures, there’s no more inspiration– there’s no more need for inspiration because I’m not writing the fucking speech–”

“Logan, let’s just–”

“–and there’s nothing!” Logan yelled, hating each word that came out of his mouth and meaning them at the same time. “There’s nothing , Patton! Don’t you get it?!”

“Get...get what?”

“Everything I write feels like it’s– it’s missing something. Every answer I thought I had doesn’t matter– even Virgil’s book is– is bullshit! There could be a million purposes for art, there could be a million reasons to do anything, but there will always be more nothing , Patton. There’s nothing.”

“L-Love, please, can we–”

“We can’t do anything, Patton! There’s– there’s no point to anything, not even you and I! ”

A beat of silence. It suddenly felt like all the lights in the shop flickered out and it was just Logan and Patton, Patton and Logan, the two of them together — until it wasn’t.

Logan wilted as he watched Patton’s heart break through his irises. Patton stumbled back; back until there were miles between the two of them, until each string that tied them together grew warped and stretched and snapped apart.

Patton stumbled back until he pressed against the door with a deafening thud; until he was out of the door; until he was so far back that Logan was alone and Patton was gone.

—

Roman has only lived twice before.

The first time was a bit all over the place. There were days when the sun was high in the sky and he could just stroll out of his house and sing to everyone and anyone. He would greet each stranger as if on a cloud, and not only became the town’s mascot, but seemingly became the whole damn parade. It was a busy time, but it was a time he cherished, being so open and known.

Of course, there were the stormier days too; there were days when the rain lasted all day and everyone was rushing against cobblestone to be inside in barely-lit homes. There were days where it’d even be too loud for Roman to focus on anything, and all he could do was sit on his chair and stare outside, waiting and waiting and waiting.

Then, there were the quiet nights. They would come few and far between, but lo and behold, they existed, even for just a little bit. Most of his life was spent in the hustle and bustle of city life, but most of his life was lived in a forest clearing basked in moonlight.

But that first life—the ups, the downs; the sun, the storm, the moon—never seemed to be the story Roman left behind.

No, that story was pressed into the pages of a book he did his best to write yet one that no one could open; for all he knew at the time, it wasn’t allowed to even exist.

And then, in his second life, it didn’t exist at all.

––

The moonlight bled into Fray and Far Fables and illuminated a scene of scattered papers and wine glasses. An eerie silence crept across the floors like a fog.

And at the centre of it all was Logan.

He sat on the armchair next to the window, staring wistfully at the streetlamps and purposefully away from the mess behind him. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, trying not to notice the scent of his own breath, or of the umpteenth wine glass he held in his hand.

After Patton left, the store somehow felt emptier, even more than it did before. Logan tried to outrun the walls closing in on him by doing anything, but the place became so unbearingly hollow to the point where Logan caved and cracked open a bottle of wine.

And now, here he was. The world was spinning off its axis and Logan couldn’t give a shit.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he heard the soft sound of light and twinkling– at first, he swore it was some wine-induced hallucination– but eventually it filled the shop like air into a parachute. Logan stiffened at the noise and in his delirium, stumbled to his feet. He shot his hand out in front of him.

“Who goes-it–”

A flickering red glow flooded his vision. He blinked until it cleared, and met the eyes of a cross-armed Roman, floating in the air in front of the staircase.

A heavy pause sat between them. Logan watched as Roman eyed him up and down.

“Well. I’ll admit, I’ve never quite seen... this before.”

“Oh shut up.” The words slip in a way not even Logan expected. Roman’s face twisted, but if he was upset, he didn’t seem to show it.

“Sure. Gonna ignore that suggestion, but sure.”

Roman looked around at the shop; crumpled-up papers and an array of wine glasses, with a near-empty wine bottle on the counter. He frowned.

“Why are there so many?” He floated over to sit on top of a wine glass laying on his side. “Did you go and sample the whole town’s selection?”

“I kept–” Logan hiccuped– “forgetting that I had gotten one, one thin’ led to another–”

“Right, right.” Roman shook his head, flying over to hover over Logan’s shoulder. “So that seems like a ready sign to go to bed, wouldn’t you think?”

“No no no,” Logan mumbled, attempting to flick Roman off his shoulder before realizing he was just flicking air. He swivelled his head to his other shoulder and Roman waved at him dryly.

“Yeah, Specs. Not gonna argue about this. We can argue in the morning, like we always do.”

Roman closed his eyes and pressed his small hands on Logan’s shoulder. Logan could feel the familiar heat of Roman’s magic burn into his skin—fading but trying—and suddenly felt light and airy.

“I– no!” He stood up before Roman could attempt to lift him up. Roman’s spell dissipated. The force sent him tumbling off Logan’s shoulders with a hard jolt. Roman caught himself in the air and flew back up to meet Logan’s gaze.

Logan looked at him, steely-eyed.

“Where...where’d you get that?”

Roman blinked. “Get...what? This shirt? It’s actually new! I sewed it mysel–”

“No! Not– s’nice shirt, actually, I like the lace– but no! Not the shirt, not the shirt.” Logan loosely waved his hands in front of Roman. “Where did you get that? ”

“...I sewed these pants as well–”

“The magic!” Logan snapped. “The magic, where’d you get it?”

A beat of silence. Roman’s aura dimmed.

“I...you know where I got my magic, Lo. I got it from your grandfather. He was born of magic, and I was born of his.”

“And he– he born’d a son and– and I was born’d from him! So by that– that logic, is my magic from him too?”

“Logan, you know I can’t tell you. The origin of magic must be stumbled upon not–”

“JUST TELL ME!” Logan screamed, slamming his glass on the floor. The lights in the shop flickered dark blue for a millisecond, before going back to a dim fluorescent. Roman staggered back in the air.

Logan panted for air before looking down. A red cut danced across his palm from the shards of glass, and a drop of blood fell onto the wine-soaked floor. He then locked eyes with Roman, eyes wide and rimmed with an empty emotion Logan couldn’t quite grasp.

“I– I just don’t get why it’s gone,” Logan finally said. He held his bloodied hand to his chest. “I don’t understand why it’s gone– I don’t understand why everything is just gone– ”

“I can’t help but say I told you so, Logan.” Roman gritted his teeth. “Going so far changes things.”

“So far into what?!” Logan ran a hand through his disheveled hair, burning with frustration. He pointed his finger accusingly at Roman.

“How– how did you know what would happen in Virgil’s book?"

“I–”

“Why didn’t you tell me it’d lead to a dead end?!”

“It wasn’t a dead end, it was just–”

“ NOTHING!” Logan felt warm tears run down his face. “Why was it nothing?! ”

“Look, you got your fucking answers, okay?!” Roman snapped. “You can’t blame me for what they are.”

“But I can blame him!” Logan pointed at the counter, where Virgil’s book laid, haunted and open. “I can blame him, can’t I?!”

“Logan–”

“ You– you send me back into the nothing.” Logan stormed over to the counter and grabbed Virgil’s book with his bloodied hand. He waved it at Roman. “You send me back and lemme at ‘im!”

“That’s not how it works– ”

“Then send me in anyway! Let me get lost in the– the nothing! I don’t care! I’m going to end up exactly like the fucking guy– might as well get a head start!”

“You’re nothing like him,” Roman hissed. “You are nothing like him, Logan, that’s– that’s not him, Logan–”

“How would you fucking know?! You don’t even like him, let alone know him – ”

“I DO!”

Logan’s breath hitched. Virgil’s book fell to the floor.

“You...you what?”

Roman’s red glow fizzled out with a sharp buzz and with a gasp, he dropped to the floor. Logan’s eyes widened as he scrambled to catch him. Roman quickly rolled out of his grasp and Logan went tumbling onto the floor boards.

“Roman! Roman, stop–”

Roman scampered across the floor as Logan crawled frantically to grab him. Logan slammed his good hand on the floor where Roman stood to catch his breath, but Roman jumped onto the grooved surface of the front counter and heaved himself up. Logan pulled his hand back.

“Roman!” Logan cried out again, forcing himself onto his feet.

And the last thing he saw was Roman jumping onto the shelves behind the counter. He turned around to face Logan.

Time seemed to freeze as they locked eyes, and Logan realized with horror that Roman was crying. Tears streamed down his cheeks and slowly pooled around him.

“R-Roman, I’m–”

But before Logan could say anything else, Roman tore his gaze from him and started to pull back books to make his way to the back of the shelves. He disappeared behind one of the books, not turning back.

A dim, red glow flickered in Logan’s vision, seemingly buried behind the book spines.

And then, it was gone.

—

next chapter >

#TS Storytime 2021 #gabbie writes things #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #logicality #prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan/patton #roman/virgil #logic/morality #creativity/anxiety

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ravenbrenna09 · 4 years

Text

Jij Verliest - Chapter Four: Clip 8

master list previous

...

Vrijdag 12:12

The second that Robbe turned in his exam and left the classroom, it was officially summer.

Finally, all of his exams were over. Just like that, he was released into the world; he could do whatever he wanted without having to worry about projects or deadlines. Or, at least, temporarily—until the fall semester started. For now, Robbe was free and clear of all the pressure of school. He could stream for longer, skate with his friends, or hang out with Sander into the late hours.

As the thought of Sander popped into his brain, his phone vibrated in his hands as it powered up. Robbe glanced down and found Sander’s good luck message—the one he’d seen before he shut his phone off—in the midst of all his other notifications. Clicking on the message, Robbe quickly typed back as he headed towards the café.

Robbe: I finished my exam. It’s officially summer.

“Robbe!” Quickly locking his phone screen, Robbe turned to find Zoë running up to him. She was dressed in a pair of shorts and a shirt. Zoë ran a hand through her bleached-blonde hair as she caught up to him and smiled at him. “According to Jens, there is going to be a big celebration party for the end of exams. Were you thinking about going?”

“I was going to,” Robbe admitted. “But I’ve already made plans.”

Zoë raised an eyebrow. “With this new mystery guy?”

Robbe mirrored her expression. “Where did you hear this from?”

“Milan,” Zoë said, shrugging. There was an inquisitive look on her face as Robbe shook his head in disbelief. “Come on, Robbe. We’ve all noticed your change in mood. And, frankly, we’re all curious about who this mystery man could possibly be.” She pursed her lips as she stared at Robbe, who wasn’t folding anytime soon. “Come on, please? At least tell me his name.”

“I will,” Robbe said. He stopped and leaned against the wall. Confused, Zoë leaned on the wall across from him. “Just not yet, okay?” Robbe let out a breath. “I just don’t want to rush things, Zoë. It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this and I want to experience it.”

“Robbe, it’s okay for you to want to experience it,” Zoë said, smiling at him. “Milan and I are just worried about you, that’s all. If you don’t want to tell us yet, you don’t have to. You know that.” Robbe nodded and let out a relieved breath. “Does he make you happy?”

As if some cosmic deity opened up the heavens and rained down that exact moment, Robbe’s phone vibrated in his hands. At the sudden sensation, Robbe jumped and Zoë laughed at him. As he flipped her off, he turned over his phone in his hand and spotted Sander’s message.

Sander: I’m almost there. See you by the library. Can’t wait to hear about your exam <3

As Robbe smiled down at his phone, Zoë laughed again. She reached out, poking at his dimples, and he shoved her hands away. “I guess there’s the answer,” she said matter-of-factly. Zoë moved to leave, adjusting the strap on her shoulder, and smiling over at him. “I’ll see you whenever you get home, Robbe.”

Before she left, Robbe made sure to flip her off again.

Robbe stepped outside. As he headed to the library, Robbe could feel the excitement bubbling up in his stomach. While Robbe had no idea what Sander had planned, he was certain that he would enjoy it. Even with the stress of exams, being with Sander felt like walking on air. Robbe couldn’t imagine what it might feel like without the added stress on top of it.

“Robbe.”

He half-expected it to be Jens or Moyo. Even when Robbe wasn’t in the mood or had other plans, Jens would always double-check and make sure that Robbe really didn’t want to go, while Moyo would always try and goad him into coming along. As much as Robbe would love to have a night out with his friends, he was looking forward to an evening with Sander. Especially since he was apparently being dragged into a boys’ trip next week.

But, as he turned, his face fell as he realized who had called out to him.

Thomas.

Again.

His ex-boyfriend was dressed in his typical work-day attire. But Robbe could spot his stress and anxiety from a mile away. His tie was undone and his dress shirt was wrinkled. There was a look on his face, broken, that made Robbe pause. There was also kindled anger brewing in his gut at the sight of him here, at his school, as Robbe turned to him and asked, “What do you want?”

“I just want to talk,” Thomas said. “And you haven’t been responding to any of my texts.”

“I wonder why,” Robbe said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Robbe, come on.”

“I’m meeting someone, Thomas,” Robbe said, turning in the direction he had been going. “And, frankly, I don’t want to fight with you right now.” As quickly as Robbe turned around, Thomas was stepping in front of him. Robbe took a step back from him, but Thomas grabbed him by the wrist. Before Robbe could pull his hand from his grasp, Thomas was shoving something in his hand. The watch. Robbe sighed. “For fuck’s sake, Thomas, I don’t want the watch—”

“I want to get back together with you.”

There it was.

A month ago, Robbe would have killed to hear that. Those eight words would’ve sparked new hope into Robbe. They would’ve pumped him full of relief and removed the anxiety that filled his bones at the thought of Thomas not wanting him anymore—that he would never be good enough. Now, the hope that Robbe would’ve felt last month was replaced with anger boiling in his stomach as he stared daggers at Thomas.

Not acknowledging his words, Robbe shot his arm out, pushing his hand with the watch against Thomas’s chest. Letting out a controlled breath, Robbe said, as firm as he could muster, “I told you that I don’t want the watch, Thomas.”

I don’t want to be with you.

Thomas seemed oblivious to the anger brimming on the edge. With a calm, collected, and maybe a little anxious demeanour, Thomas took Robbe’s hand in his own. Robbe tried to take his hand from his grasp, but Thomas held on tighter, his nails digging into his skin. Then, he folded Robbe’s fingers over, enclosing the watch in his palm. Thomas raised his eyes back to Robbe’s. Considering the fact that Robbe was his boyfriend for over a year, he should’ve noticed the tension of his shoulders or the way that Robbe was glaring daggers at him. But Thomas didn’t. He just held Robbe’s clenched hand a little tighter and whispered, “Just think about it, please.”

Before Robbe could speak or unleash the kindled anger coursing through his veins, someone else was speaking, “Is everything okay, Robbe?”

Sander. Robbe could hear his steps behind him, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Thomas.

Thomas glanced over at Sander and Robbe could see his resolve falter. Then, he turned his eyes back to Robbe before pleading, “Just think about it, Robbe.” There were multiple things that Robbe wanted to say to Thomas, wanted to shout at him until he managed to get it through his thick skull, but he knew that Thomas wouldn’t get it. So Robbe held back his harsh words and ripped his hand from his grasp. His ex-boyfriend glanced over at Sander, nodding curtly to him, before disappearing toward the parking lot.

Once Thomas moved away, Sander stepped into his view, blocking the sight of his ex walking away. Sander was dressed in a pair of jeans and a thin t-shirt that hugged his arms tightly. His green bag was draped across his chest. Sander glanced over at Thomas’s retreating form before turning back to Robbe. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Robbe admitted. The anger was brimming beneath the surface of his skin, buzzing loudly like a hot wire. Robbe gripped the stupid watch in his hand a little tighter and let out a sigh. He was frustrated. Why couldn’t he just make Thomas see that he didn’t want the watch? Robbe let out a sigh, closing his eyes. “Why can’t he just leave me alone?”

“I don’t know.”

Seconds later, two arms wrapped around Robbe’s waist, pulling him close. Without hesitation, Robbe stepped closer into Sander’s waiting arms. He buried his face against the flushed skin of his neck and held the fabric of his shirt tightly in his free hand. Sander held onto his waist tightly and ran a hand up his back. Robbe let out a sigh, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about, Robbe,” Sander said, pressing a fleeting kiss against Robbe’s temple. Robbe let out a hum at the feeling. Sander ran a hand through Robbe’s curls, forcing him to tilt his head backward. There was a small smile that formed on Sander’s face. “Now, come on. Let’s forget about this stupid watch,” Sander said, taking the watch from Robbe’s grasp. Without shifting, Sander unzipped his backpack and dropped the jewelry into the sack. “And figure out what to eat.”

“Please, I’m starving.” Sander grinned, moving to step aside, but Robbe held him tightly against him. Sander stared at him, confused, and Robbe stood on his toes to press their lips together. Sander held onto him tightly, clinging to his hips, and opened his mouth to Robbe’s tongue. Once Robbe pulled away, Sander’s eyes fluttered open, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Robin,” Sander teased. He unraveled his arms from Robbe’s waist and leaned down to clasp their hands together. Once their hands were laced together, Sander tugged Robbe in the direction of the shops off-campus. “Come on, let’s go get something to eat.” Robbe caught up to Sander, happily going along with him, unaware of the pair of eyes still trained on him.

#brenna writes #jij verliest fic #wtfock #wtfam #wtfock fanfiction #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #sobbe #rosander #wtfock fanfic #wtf fanfic #twitch streamer robbe #twitch streamer!robbe #tattoo artist!sander #zoë loockx #oc: thomas martens #thomas being an oblivious douche again #forgot the clip number like a dumbo

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finaldreams1106 · 3 years

Text

F*** the World

CW: language

"Let go of me" Whumpee said, their brow knitting down into a scowl, pulling down at the cuts and scrapes across their forehead.

Whumper frowned, "I though you made it past this." They yanked harder against Whumpee's cuffs, but to their surprise their previously cowed toy ripped free.

"Don't fucking touch me." Whumpee said again, drawing their knees up to their chest as they rested against the wall.

"Don't make me get the cattle prod," Whumper said, sighing, "neither of us want that." They frowned at the bloodied Whumpee, at least they weren't trying to make a rush for the door.

"See," Whumpee snapped, "That's what you don't fucking get. I'm done. I'm done being scared of you. I'm done bewailing the universe because of this fucked up little situation I've gotten into it. I'm just done. Now I'm mad. I'm done." They were shouting by the end, their words ripping past cracked lips and missing teeth.

The pain in their voice came from something more than broken ribs and strained vocal cords. Whumper smiled, their little toy hadn't broken yet - just bent - and now they were snapping back. Spirit spilling back into them.

Whumpee had given up on the world and chosen to keep fighting, Whumper would make them regret that.

Short discussion of depression/inspiration for this under the break. just had to get it out.

Not going to lie. I'm having a really shitty time recently - and my emotions are seriously out of whack? Like I am extraordinarily stressed between work and school (I have a fast approaching work deadline I can't meet and I have literally never not met a deadline. And I'm breakdown over a B type person so I know I'm overreacting. . . but that doesn't change the emotions. you know?)

Normally with great stress comes great depression, like couldn't get out of bed depressed. I'm lucky enough to have an anti-depressent that works most of the time but when I get super stressed usually the effectiveness drops. But not this time, I'm super stressed and not really having a lot of depression symptoms. Turns out emotional reaction two is anger - I've been constantly angry for this last two weeks at everything but at no one which is in itself frustrating because I will not snap at people I love and don't have a good way to vent. Other than writing. So. Here I am.

#whump #defiant whumpee #depression #rant #vent #It's really not a big deal and once I fail my deadline it will be over #then I can move on and focus on school again #which is super fucking difficult #but whatever #midterms next week #yay

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chocoluckchipz · 4 years

Text

The Other You - 8

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

< Previous

Before he was cursed with the sinking ship of his father’s company, Adrien loved to sleep in on the weekends. Now, he was lucky to get even half of what he’d usually slept, considering that in addition to his work at Gabriel, it was also the end of the spring semester at his school and the workload was overwhelming. Just a little longer, though, and he’d be free to focus on his ‘help Marinette and finally atone for your sins’ mission full-time. Adrien could hardly wait, which was a little weird considering how much stuff he’d have to learn and do to make that happen.

“What are you grinning about?” Plagg yawned, floating out of his bed-bucket.

Adrien stretched. “Nothing in particular. Just that things are finally starting to look brighter.”

“Lying to your girlfriend to get food out of her is bright?” Plagg scoffed, flying away to the kitchen.

“I haven’t told a single lie, and she isn’t my girlfriend.”

“You kissed her, and you liked it.”

“Can you let it go, Plagg? We’ve talked about this. It wasn’t—”

“Man, she’s going to hate you even more when she finds out who exactly was kissing her.”

Adrien glared at the pesky creature. “That’s why we aren’t telling her, Plagg.”

“She’ll find out eventually,” the kwami shrugged, stuffing his mouth with his morning dose of Camembert. “Better get ready for it instead of denying the obvious.”

With a growl, Adrien flopped back into his sheets. Pushing Plagg’s words aside, he closed his eyes, trying to focus on his schedule for today. First work, then lunch with Nino, and then… more work. He couldn’t afford to have his weekends off anymore.

“Oh, I know,” Plagg mumbled, finishing his wheel of cheese. “Your high school crush on Princess is coming back. That’s why you’re making dumb decisions—"

“I did not have a crush on Marinette,” Adrien said, sitting up. “I’ve always loved Ladybug.”

“Sure,” Plagg smirked. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“That’s the truth.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Plagg countered, his arms on his hips. “You could afford all the croissants in the world, yet you kept abusing your powers and going to her balcony for treats.”

“That’s because her pastries were amazing, and Marinette was a great company. But that doesn’t mean I had a crush on her.”

“Sure. That’s why you tried to spend as much time as possible with her. And not as Chat only, but as Adrien as well. Ugh! All those blushes and cutesy stuff.” Plagg shivered. “Disgusting.”

“It wasn’t like that, Plagg. We were just friends.”

“And don’t get me started on this whole ‘helping her’ business,” the kwami continued to grumble. “I told you it was insane even then, didn’t I? But no! You had to risk everything for her. Look where it got you. And how did she thank you? She took your heart and trampled it under her feet.”

Adrien fell silent.

“That’s why you didn’t try hard enough to reach out after they cut you off. It wasn’t only your pride that got bruised. Your heart got broken as well.”

“You can think whatever you want,” Adrien mumbled quietly, getting out of bed. “But having a close friend doesn’t mean I have a crush on her. My heart has always belonged to Ladybug.”

Plagg groaned in exasperation and flew off. Adrien went about his morning routine, pushing aside Plagg’s ridiculous claims and letting his thoughts race back to Nino. The prospect of meeting with his former best friend left him confused at best. Thrilled? Not exactly. More like nervous? Anxious? But nevertheless, kind of glad because the rejection and the refusal to let him at least explain himself still stung. Adrien spent years being bitter and resentful about that and had a lot to say. And today he was going to say everything because he didn’t really care about the way this meeting would go. He wasn’t looking to renew the friendship. An explanation, closure and the strength to move on: that was all Adrien wanted.

The day went by tortuously slowly. Hiring a new assistant for Marinette was Adrien’s top priority, but it was proving to be rather difficult. She needed someone highly experienced at this point and not a lot of qualified people wanted to work with a seemingly doomed company Gabriel had become. Scratch “a lot”. “None” would fit better. And to change that would require a ton of work, the size of Adrien was only now starting to realize. He did his best, but even he had his limits and needed breaks to stay sane. That was why, as soon as the clock struck a quarter to noon, Adrien zoomed out of his office and almost sprinted to a nearby café. Five minutes early, he wasn’t surprised to see Nino already there. His former best friend was always one to be on time.

Adrien halted his steps. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. He should have refused. Surely, he can help Marinette without Nino. No need to rip the old wounds open and let them bleed unnecessarily.

Before he could change his mind though, Nino stood up, looking his way. Awkwardly, the pair watched each other for a few moments from a distance until Nino motioned Adrien to sit at his table.

“Do you want small talk, or we could just—”

“Let’s skip it,” Adrien shrugged, settling in the chair.

“Straight to the issue?”

“Why not?”

“I’m all for it.”

“Me too.”

“Would you like to order?” a waiter interrupted.

Both men nodded in unison and took their time placing orders. After the waiter left, no one rushed to break the silence.

“So,” Nino finally gave in. “If we aren’t holding back and telling as it is… I still think you acted like a jerk, but I do owe you an apology because your intuition was right. Working with your father did ruin Marinette’s life. And that…” Nino inhaled deeply, “might actually be an understatement.”

Adrien sighed. “I saw tragedies happen too many times to do nothing. People had nervous breakdowns over a stupid deadline that was set a few days earlier than the actual one anyway. Or over an outfit that was added to the collection at the last minute and the fabric had to be personally flown in from Tibet. Many were doing the work of two or three on a tight schedule because their assistants couldn’t take it anymore and quit. So, just thinking that one of my closest friends could end up in that place… I couldn’t let that happen to her.” Adrien paused, his eyes focusing on the napkin he fidgeted with. “I only tried to protect her from that hell. Nothing else.”

“I can see now why you wanted her away from Gabriel, but you could’ve gone about it a different way, one that didn’t involve sneaking behind her back.”

Adrien nodded. “That’s on me. I should’ve done it differently. But you should've let me explain instead of cutting me off without warning.”

“What are you talking about?” Nino quirked an eyebrow. “You were the one who didn't want anything to do with us.”

“If by me trying to reach you for weeks, begging to let me explain and apologize is what you consider—”

“Let me stop you right there,” Nino interrupted, raising his hand. “What weeks are we talking about here? You sent us a single message in the chatroom that same day before quitting it, and in it, you spelled quite clearly that you had neither desire nor time for such ‘crappy friends’ as us anymore because apparently we neither did nor could understand and support you. Why do you think I never contacted you in all those years? Yes, I was angry with you, but all I needed was time to chill down and think. I would’ve reached out for that explanation eventually. You were my best bud, Adrien. I would’ve never just cut you off like I did unless you wanted that. Unless you asked me to do that, ‘lest I accidentally stumble upon an unwelcome reminder’ if I didn’t block you on all platforms.”

Adrien stared at Nino in confusion. “What are you talking about? I never sent any of you anything like that. I never quit the chatroom. You kicked me out. The three of you were my best friends, and you know how few of those I had. Why on Earth would I ask you to cut me off?”

“Your food, gentlemen.” The waiter placed plates before the men, giving Nino time to reach for his cell phone, open it on a particular screen and pass it to Adrien.

“Take a read for yourself. I’m sure you remember this. No one but the four of us had access to this chatroom, and the message is clearly sent from your account, following the notification that you left the chat.”

Adrien froze, his eyebrows slowly knitting into a frown as he read the words on the screen. Once done, he blankly stared at the device for a few moments before leaning back into his seat. “I didn’t write this. I didn't leave on my own. There has to have been a mistake.”

“Like what? Someone hacked you?”

“I can’t really say,” Adrien frowned. “From my end, I was just kicked out of the chat and blocked everywhere that same evening. Though, I hadn't discovered it until a bit later since I thought giving you time to calm down was a good idea.”

“So you knew we blocked you and still claim you were trying to reach out?”

“I hoped that at least one of you would unblock me eventually and I’d be able to explain.”

Nino huffed. “Why didn't you just seek us out in person?”

“I was busy moving out and working, and Chloe said if you didn't want to talk to me online, you wouldn't want to see me in person.”

Nino raised an eyebrow. “Chloe?”

Adrien shrugged, looking away. “No one else was around to give me advice, and it’s not like she sounded unreasonable.”

They fell in silence for a moment. Nino picked up his fork and started to eat, Adrien following his suit. A few minutes later, Nino asked, “Ever left your phone around her unattended?”

His thoughts rushing back to the past, Adrien nodded. “Never had a reason not to trust her that much.”

“Does she, by any chance, know your password?”

Adrien shrugged. “I never personally gave it to her, but it's not like I hid it either.”

Nino waited until he finished chewing his next bite to comment. “We both know Chloe is capable of sending those messages and quitting the chat on your behalf. She never liked us being friends, and it was awfully out of character of you.”

“That’s a valid possibility.”

Nino focused on his meal for a few more moments before asking, “ You swear you didn’t send those?”

Adrien leaned backwards in his seat. “On my mother’s name.”

Sighing heavily, Nino closed his eyes. “This is so messed up. This whole situation is just… so messed up. And what do we do now?”

"I don’t know," Adrien murmured, looking to the side.

“I guess I owe you another apology.” Nino cleared his throat. “I won’t apologize for getting angry at you. For the way you went about the whole Marinette thing, you deserved it. However, I am sorry for believing you could have sent that message and cutting you off without giving you a chance to defend yourself. I should’ve known you better than that.”

“Fair enough,” Adrien replied. “I do admit I could’ve used a better way to protect Marinette, and I guess I should’ve tried harder to reach out too, instead of assuming you abandoned me at the first opportunity. I’m sorry as well.”

“I appreciate it.” Nino shifted in his chair, picking up his coffee mug. “So, what next?”

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, leaning back in his seat. “I don’t know? Maybe, let’s start with why you contacted me all of the sudden after all those years? I assume you need info on Marinette?”

“I did, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Nino shrugged. “Alya’s finally gotten through to her, and they’re having lunch as we speak.”

“So technically we didn’t have to meet?”

“Technically no. But since you already agreed to come, I wanted…” he paused to muse for a second before giving Adrien a shy smile. “Actually, I'm not sure what I wanted, but I was curious to see you again.”

“I hope your curiosity was satisfied?”

“My curiosity is wondering why you look so exhausted on Saturday afternoon?”

“Got a little more than I can handle on my plate at the moment.”

Nino hesitated but still asked, “Need some help?”

“I wish you could help me,” Adrien chuckled. “Thank you, but unless you know how to run a fashion empire, I don't think that's a viable option.”

“I am a quick learner. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Adrien swallowed. He hadn't been looking for a renewal of their friendship when he was coming here, but… Sitting here, talking to Nino again after all these years, seeing how little he had changed, how caring and understanding and just cool Nino still was… Adrien wondered. “I can always use a friend. I still don’t have many of those… If you want to of course.”

Nino smiled. “Even after everything?”

“I don't think I ever got over you,” Adrien dramatically sighed.

Nino chuckled. “You’re too kind for this world, Adrien. I hope you know that.”

“I did have a friend who used to tell me that all the time. Without him in my life, I haven't heard this in years.”

“I can fill his shoes again if you’re really sure about this.”

“I’m not delusional to think this would be easy. Rebuilding something is bound to have its own issues, especially in our situation.”

“But we can always try.”

“We can.”

Nino stretched his hand to Adrien. “I missed you, bro.”

A smile on his face, Adrien accepted the handshake. “I miss you too, Nino.”

***

With his unexpectedly successful lunch the previous day on his mind, Adrien wanted nothing less than to spend his Sunday visiting the mansion. He’d stalled as much as he could, shopping for groceries, doing his laundry, and even visiting work for half a day. Once the evening drew near, though, he couldn’t excuse himself anymore. An hour’s walk along the Seine helped Adrien come to grips with what he had to do, and soon, he was standing in front of the house he once called home.

“If you don’t want to do it, don’t do it,” Plagg grumbled from his collar.

“I promised Marinette. I have to.”

“Then do it and stop whining.”

Adrien groaned. “You aren’t any help, Plagg.”

“Being helpful isn’t in my job description,” Plagg muttered and relocated to Adrien’s bag. “Wake me up when you’re done standing around, pointlessly staring at the front door.”

Adrien’s shoulders slumped as he sighed dejectedly. Fishing the key out of his pocket, he forced himself to open the door before he could change his mind.

He hadn’t visited ever since he moved out. When his father was alive, it was out of the question. They never reconciled. And after Gabriel's death, his lawyer handled all the necessary procedures without the younger Agreste having to take a single step inside the mansion. It would be put up for sale soon, but for now, Gabriel's possessions were still untouched in the places he’d left them.

Adrien quickly walked through the empty, cold hallway to his father’s office. It hadn’t changed at all: minimalist furnishing, clean design, barren of any comfort and warmth. He paused at his mother’s portrait, making a note to claim it for himself. It was a beautiful piece. His sight shifted to his father’s desk. A few folders and a couple of random things lying atop it. A dead plant in the corner right behind.

Adrien sat in his father’s chair and looked through the folders. None of them were what Marinette needed. He reached for a drawer in the table. Inside were more folders and a slim white box. Pushing the box out of the way, Adrien took the folders out. To his relief, three of those were exactly what he came here for.

“Perfect.” Adrien exhaled and tried to shove the remaining folders back into the drawer. Something was obstructing them. He reached in and pulled the white box out. It was nothing unique, really. A regular box his Father used for his jewelry collection… Yet, even after the files were back in their place, Adrien couldn’t take his eyes off it. Something about the box was just so enigmatic. Something drew him in. Something he couldn’t explain.

He carefully took the lid off.

A bright electric orb exploded in front of him, and a little purple kwami with wings emerged. At first, its eyes were lowered to the floor, but once the creature looked up they widened, mouth falling open.

“Ma-Master?”

“Nooroo! Old pal!” Plagg zoomed out from Adrien’s bag and crushed the little guy in his embrace. “So that’s where you were hiding all this time?”

“Plagg?” Nooroo squeaked.

“Nooroo?” Adrien echoed.

“Yup, my old pal, Nooroo,” Plagg punched the purple kwami’s shoulder. “Hawkmoth’s kwami.”

Adrien sharply inhaled.

Nooroo looked at him and quietly asked, “Where is my Master?”

Adrien could hardly breathe. “What’s the name of your Master?”

"We can't say the names of our wielders to others,” Plagg answered instead. “Some magic stuff I don’t really care about.”

“Can you point to his picture?” Adrien whispered, staring at Nooroo in shock, dreading to hear the answer he suspected he already knew.

Nooroo nodded and stretched his tiny hand in the direction of their family portrait. “The older man,” the kwami said quietly as the world shuddered beneath Adrien’s feet.

Next >

#miraculous ladybug #marichat #ml fanfiction #adrien agreste #Nino lahiffe #nooroo #the other you #adrienette #Aged-up #angst with a happy end #myart #my art

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yandere-society · 5 years

Note

Yandere!CEO!Taehyung who is either obsessed with his assistant who is going to work for another Yandere!Ceo (Like Jungkook) or a coffee store owner where he gets his coffee from but the store is moving to a new town

I got lost in the sauce bc I recently watched The Devil Wears Prada and I saw ‘assistant’ and ‘ceo’ and I went off. Hope you don’t mind :)

Admin/Writer- Chinkbihh

Words- 6.7k

Trigger Warnings- Sadism, verbal abuse, yandere Taehyung

Actually, The Devil Wears Gucci

You had always thought that ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ was an over exaggeration of what a boss/assistant relationship could be.

Until you met Mr. Kim.

Meryl Streep as a boss would’ve been an angel compared to the monster who signed your paychecks now.

You had moved to the city with the assumption that jobs would be readily available for your plucking, however not even Mcdonalds was willing to call back for an interview. After living three weeks in the city without a job, you told yourself that you would apply to anything and everything you came across before resorting to less admirable means of getting money. So when you came across a job position for being an assistant to some company, you had half-heartedly sent an application- no expectations for getting any response.

Apparently, this place was more desperate than you for it took exactly two hours before some nice lady was calling you and begging for an interview. This should have been the first red flag, for what kind of office job was more eager than a fast food chain? However the pay was nice and you weren’t in any position to shrug off potential employers, thus you agreed to come in.

The following day you arrived at the company and sat down with the woman from over the phone, answering her questions with as much integrity as you could muster. You were answering the stream of questions with ease until one odd one came up.

“Are you fast?” She asked not once looking up from her little clipboard. The question threw you off guard.

“I-I’m sorry, what are you referencing?” Your confident mask faltered for a second due to your inability to understand what the fuck she meant.

“You’re going to be asked to make runs to the most random places throughout the city under harsh time crunches, do you think you could do that?” She seemed sympathetic as she said this, as if she really didn’t want to put you through that.

This should have been another red flag, but all that popped into your head was coffee runs.

You just nodded, sure you could do some running around to get some wealthy people a couple cappuccinos for their ‘productive’ meetings.

“Are you sensitive?”

Your eyebrow rose on its’ own accord and before your mouth could open to ask for more context, the interviewer interjected by saying;

“Our CEO is a very…um, blunt man. Some people don’t like that personality type so we rather avoid employing someone who will crumble under that pressure.” This was yet another red flag.

One that you didn’t bother looking at as you just smiled and told her, “I promise to keep my emotions out of the professional scene here.”

–

‘Blunt’ turned out to be a really watered down version for what the CEO actually was; a heartless bastard with no concept of empathy. You later felt backstabbed by the interviewer (Irene was her name) for downplaying such a demon. But you could understand her incentive to not scare you off, how else would they get any employees if everyone knew about the CEO’s true behavior?

After your brief interview, Irene declared you more than adequate enough for the position. She decided to show you around before your first day the following week.

The office was modern and chic with everyone seated at different sections depending on their department. You got the sense that it was an elaborate operation given the high-rise location of the office floor and the expensive furniture. Even the fucking coffee maker at the cafeteria was more costly than your rent. Despite the modern and voguish environment, all the employees Irene introduced you to seemed amicable and kind enough. You did however notice the slight eye widen whenever Irene told them that you were going to be “Mr. Kim’s new assistant.”

There was something that no one was telling you, but everyone knew.

You didn’t discover what it was until Irene walked you over to a door and told you that it was time to meet the man you’d be working for.

“It’s very important that you knock everytime. Walking in without warning will make him furious.” Irene gently told you as she raised her hand to knock on the mahogany door.

However before her small fist could make contact with it, the door was ripped open from the other side and a girl rushed out in such speed you could barely catch her face.

The one thing you did catch though was the blotched mess it was with tear streaks running down it. You heard her sobs sound behind you and get further and further away as she ran out of the office. You thought you heard a muttered; “insensitive jerk” as she passed by.

Irene side-glanced you and gave you an awkward smile. It was obvious that she didn’t even know what to do. “Um…sorry about that. R-Rose has always been a bit of a crybaby.”

She was a bad liar.

Irene leaned forward in the now open doorway and called out,

“Mr. Kim? Is it alright if I come in?” A grunt was heard but this was all the confirmation she needed before taking your hand and leading you inside.

The office was large with the outer wall being all glass, revealing the sky-line of the other tall skyscraper buildings in the city. The walls were white but every piece of furniture was black, from the tiny lounge sofa pushed to the side to the very frames the abstract paintings were held in. In the center of such room was a large grey granite desk that held a golden name plate that clearly read; Kim Taehyung (CEO).

Behind the desk stood your new boss as he ruffled his hair in frustration.

His messy strands were icy blue that contrasted the copper shade of his complexion, the sun having seemingly adored his skin but the top of his head favoring the cold. (Or hair dye, but that’s none of your business.) He was tall with a broad torso, yet he was slender. His olympian body was clad in a suit that you dared not ponder the price of, knowing it could only end with you in tears. His intense and dark brows were pinched forward in annoyance, below them were his egyptian-like eyes that held raven colored orbs ignited with a fire you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of. His face was slender but his features were anything but. His nose being fleshy but straight and his lips being plushy and berry-red. Spotted on his face were tiny beauty marks that were spaced enough to form a miniature constellation.

He looked up at Irene and scowled, “I told her to get Park Jimin for a meeting and the dumbass calls Park Chanyeol on accident. Now I have to deal with this dumbo eared giant in the lobby who can’t take a fucking hint that I’m not selling any of his shitty products on my line.” He grumbled with a surprisingly gravely voice that was so deep it sounded like the devil.

You connected the dots with the poor girl who ran out of the room only seconds prior, assuming he fired her or at least yelled at her very brutally. He huffed once more and sat down in his velvet chair by the desk and finally bothered to give you a glance, just now noticing the person next to Irene.

“Whose this? Don’t tell me it’s another brainless bimbo.”

He spoke of you like you weren’t in the room, which caused your brow to tick in annoyance.

Irene nervously cleared her throat and said, “This is Y/n, she is your new personal assistant.”

His face was unreadable and stony as he gave you a scrutinizing gaze, looking up and down your form to drink you in.

You wanted to shift nervously under his piercing eyes, but you didn’t want to be another ‘Rose’ for him to berate so you kept your calm. Something just told you that he fed off fear.

Then he spoke, “Go to Starbucks and get me a caramel macchiato.”

He didn’t look away from you, clearly addressing you.

Irene bristled beside you, “S-sir, she doesn’t start until-”

You cut her off with a grin as you stared right back Mr. Kim, “I’ll get right on that. Hot or iced and what size?” -

Kim Taehyung was a monster.

His source of nutrition?

The souls, hope and energy of those mere mortals around him.

In a way it was awe inducing how brilliant that man was. As much hatred people may have for him, one could not deny Taehyung his respect. It took a lot of hard work to get to where he had gotten at the young age of 23. But that did not shake the asshole regime his employees had to suffer through.

He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it and exactly how he wanted it. And if you couldn’t deliver upon such demands? Then off with your head and pray you never cross Kim Taehyung ever again.

Taehyung was not a boss who would pull one aside and quietly break the news that your services aren’t needed anymore. No. He’ll scream it infront of everyone in the middle of a conference meeting and throw in a list of reasons why you should reevaluate your life for good measure.

People bent so easily to him, submitted without question. What was once a quiet and calm scene of friendly employees will swiftly change into a frenzied mess at a drop of a hat whenever Mr. Kim walked by.

Panic would cause people to make copies of copies in fear that they’ll forget the important documents they needed to give him. People would leave elevators once Mr. Kim entered, always granting him his own ride to the top floor no matter how late they were running. People only spoke when spoken to during meetings and when a deadline wasn’t met, they simply didn’t show up to work anymore due to the fear of facing the CEO.

However there was a special infereno for the role of his personal assistant, one that you suffered everyday.

You caught on quick that he enjoyed giving you nearly impossible tasks, and he cared not about how stressful or absurd the demands were.

“Coffee and bagel on my desk in 10 minutes or you’re fired.”

“Go downtown and get me those dumplings I like, be back in fifteen.”

“Go pick up my dry-cleaning and set up an appointment for a message at that one sauna in the west side.”

“Get me the new Gucci robe or don’t bother coming in to work tomorrow.”

“I got an urge to have a dog, go get one for me by 4’oclock.”

“The dog you got me threw up in my living room, here’s the spare key so you can clean it up. Clean the rest of the place while you’re at it too.”

“I want a private jet…figure that out.”

“The tire popped off on my car on the way here. Go pop it back on, it’s two blocks down.”

“Call Jung Hoseok and cancel our dinner plans, tell him he’s an asshole and his mother is a whore.”

The last request was something he asked often of you, he particularly liked you sending over really vulgar messages to people.

One time he caught you trying to sugar coat something over the phone and called you into his office to have a ‘talk.’

“Y/n, I believe I told you to to tell Mr. Lee that he could call back when he’s done with his head being up his ass.”

He menacingly glared at you as you tried your best to keep a straight face. “What did you say instead?”

“I-I told Mr. Lee that you would further communicate with him once you deem him more aware and intelligent.”

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Funny, that sounds a lot different that ‘get your head out of your ass’.”

It was silent for a moment and you really wondered if you were going to lose your job just because you didn’t tell someone to shove it up where the sun don’t shine.

Mr. Kim sat back in his seat and barked out, “When I tell you to curse at someone, you do it. I don’t care who it is. It can be the fucking queen of England and you’ll call her a cunt if I order you to. Now get out of my office and make yourself useful by fetching me a coffee.”

Now you didn’t flinch when you called other wealthy business people with cursing insults in hand.

–

A month had passed and you had slowly become the longest working personal assistant for Kim Taehyung.

Other employees informed you that the longest run before you was three weeks and two days and the girl ended with a mental breakdown in the bathroom.

When they asked you how you managed to tolerate all of Mr. Kim’s demands whilst not getting landed on your ass with him firing you, you tried your best to explain your strategy.

You weren’t getting paid to give your opinions.

So whenever he ordered you to get him something under nearly impossible time limits, you just kept your mouth shut and ran off to compete that insane task.

It was hard given he never gave you establishment names of the places he wanted stuff from, it was always given in terms of “that out place in the east side.” “That one restaurant I like.” “That one gallery I visited last time with Jin.”

And you always only had a short time frame to figure out where he is talking about, go there and get what he wanted, and return back before his timer went off. Sprinting down the busy sidewalks of the city had become a daily thing that was required of you.

You would go out on these runs 3-4 times a day and do ridiculous calls about 5-6 times a day. Sometimes Mr. Kim would have this look on his face as he told you of your newest assignment, as if he anticipated your objection because even he knew how absurd his demands were.

But you never gave him that satisfaction, knowing that he will get the upper hand and possibly fire you if you interjected in any way.

So you would just always smile and tell him that you were right on it.

–

Kim Taehyung rather enjoyed studying you.

When he first caught sight of you, he couldn’t help but think you were very attractive. Yet this didn’t cause his heart to grow fond of you at all. In fact it was almost a negative given all the pretty assistants he had in the past turned out to be dumbest.

Yet in a matter of a few weeks, you managed to prove him wrong and exceed previously set expectations.

He knew he was an ass. And he wanted his assistants to know that when they first met him, never would he want to give a first impression of being a lax or laid back boss. So maybe he went out of his way to make things a tad more…stressful for you.

Taehyung couldn’t deny the slight surprise every time you simply responded with that cute grin of yours and pulled off every task that he even doubted was possible.

After a few weeks of this, Taehyung was forced to acknowledge the fact that you were here to stay as you have proven yourself more than capable.

But that didn’t mean he stopped fucking with you.

No, if anything he did it even more.

He found it so adorable to view that expression of yours when you were faced with yet another idiotic obstacle he set up for you. The slight incoming blush as your face reddened with a frustration that you dared not utter. The pursing of your lips as if you were forcing yourself not to object. The delightful eye widen when he told you to make vulgar calls. That funny little eyebrow twitch you did when he gave you an especially difficult command. And your pathetic little attempt to mask your displeasure by plastering on an innocent smile and chirping, “Sure, I’ll get right on that.”

It was better than any comedy Taehyung could’ve paid to watch.

Taehyung was well aware of his own sadistic tendencies, therefore it made sense that he would have an odd sense of satisfaction from pestering you.

However the endgame most sadists had never came true in this case; you never broke. He witnessed many assistants crumble under him; whether it be by crying, screaming at him or just plain storming out.

He always won in the end, his trophy being their crack in sanity and composure. But you were stubborn.

You refused to let him get to you. Maybe that’s why he found himself slightly dumbfounded by you. You swallowed your pride and did his bidding with a dog-like obedience that you obviously faked. Yet you never cracked and humored him with a spontaneous rebellion to his dictatorship, you followed along but masked yourself just enough to have him thirsty to hear your actual thoughts and feelings.

He didn’t realize just how far his fascination went until he found himself at a club on a Saturday night, sat in the VIP lounge with Kim Namjoon to his left and Kim Seokjin to his right.

They were sat at a U-shaped booth that was dimly lit and above the chaotic dancefloor that sounded below, their elevated position giving them a glamorous view of the most famous club in the city.

“Let me get this straight, your plan is to blackmail your cousin into signing off on this deal?” Namjoon clarified while pouring the trio drinks.

Taehyung shrugged and raised the glass that was handed to him up to his mouth, sniffing the over-priced alcohol before taking a chug of it. “Why not? Business isn’t meant to be all clean and squeaky.”

“Still, you’re out of your mind if you think your uncle isn’t going to get you after this.” Jin retorted from Taehyung’s other side.

“Jin, don’t think that I don’t know how you avoided giving your tax statements to the IRS.” Taehyung bit back, not liking the hypocritical behavior of his comrades.

All the men at that particular booth were wealthy ceos who ran as kings in this particular city. Taehyung wasn’t sure if he liked the term ‘friends’ but at the very least he considered Namjoon and Seokjin as allies in the cruel world of business. He tolerated the two more than he did most.

The discussion went on for another hour of so, drinks fading Taehyung’s mind as the man’s speech became increasingly more and more slurred with every topic they covered. These topics ranging from the current market to interesting endeavors they have faced lately in their line of work. The drinks continued to pour, the bottles were bottomless for such rich men. His inhibitions were lowered as well as his morals (what little there was left for him).

He didn’t quite know how or when she ended up in his lap, but he did nothing to push her off.

All the molasses covered words she purred into his ear seemed all too appealing.

Her hold on him was instantaneous, something about her screamed a comfortable sense of familiarity that he couldn’t deny for the life of him.

The rest of the night was blurry, but a clear conclusion formed when Taehyung woke up the next morning with a stranger in his bed.

–

She looked like you.

Alot.

The resemblance was striking and uncanny.

From her (color) hair, to her docile little features, to the figure shape and even the height.

If you had a twin sister, Taehyung was positive that he just fucked her into oblivion.

Taehyung had awoken the next morning with a feeling of arms around his waist and another body sharing his satin sheets. This was not necessarily a new sensation given he had his own fair share of one night stands. But he was not prepared for what he saw when he rolled around to see which nameless woman it was this time.

For a moment, his groggy mind couldn’t comprehend that it was not you, for his brain simply matched up the looks very easily and deduced it as such.

However after a moment of closer inspection, he noticed that it was a doppelganger but not the real you. The alikeness only took up his mind for a brief moment before he was forced to spot something else while studying the intruder.

She had bruises.

Hand marks around her neck, blotchiness of getting spanked on her ass, love bites that were borderline black littered her body and those ruby stained lips were swollen and cracked from assault of the mouth.

Taehyung was taken aback by the sight of such brutal violence that marked her otherwise smooth and unbothered skin.

If he didn’t know any better, he would have assumed that this girl was the victim of abuse. Yet the fact that she was in his bed had lead to the conclusion that he himself must’ve been responsible for such injuries.

He always knew that he was rough in bed, but he never went as far as he clearly did last night with this woman.

It was jaw dropping and a twinge of guilt even glimmered in his otherwise dead heart.

He must’ve put this girl through hell itself last night just to satisfy his sick primal needs. And later when he made his way to his kitchen (after telling his maid to wake the girl up and kick her out) an alarming thought bestowed upon him that was too spot-on and shameless for it not to be true.

It was no coincidence that the one girl he slept whom held so much resemblance to you lead to the wildest night that unleashed his true sadism like it never had been before.

His intoxicated self had connected the dots for him to face when he sobered up.

He wanted to leave those marks and bruises on you…not her.

–

Your body was failing you.

The moment you woke up that morning, a sense of doom was in the air as you discovered your nose was stuffed, throat sore and stomach uneasy. You were sick.

If God had granted you a nicer boss who understood the human body and the occasional decline in health, perhaps you would’ve called in for a sick day. But asking Kim Taehyung for a sick day was like asking the Devil to read a bible….you might as well have just asked for a gruesome death. Taehyung didn’t believe in sick days and you were not in the mood to begin another fruitless job search, so you decided to take some aspirin and soldier on to the office.

“Coffee, bagel…you know the drill.” Was the first words Mr. Kim greeted you with when you entered his office for the morning rundown. He seemed oddly quiet this morning and he refused to look up at you from his desk. Which was somewhat concerning given he always glared up at you whenever he barked out his demands. You simply nodded and attempted to shrug off this break in character before going off to make your first run of the day.

When you returned with the usual coffee and bagel in hand, you discovered that Taehyung was not in his office at all. You stepped out in search of him and Irene seemed to notice your struggle before telling you; “Oh, he didn’t tell you? He’s in a meeting right now with Mr. Jeon. Check the conference room.”

You quickly thanked her and made your way over to said room.

You swung the door open to see two men (one being Mr. Kim and the other being yet another handsome but youthful man in a suit) talking with hushed tones that held a underlying vibe of anger.

“Taehyung don’t fucking try me I swear to-”

“I’m not trying anything, Jungkook. I think you got a little comfortable with your position without keeping in mind how you got there.”

“Excuse me? Was this your plan all along-”The other man (who must’ve been Mr. Jeon) suddenly stopped talking as he noticed your form standing by the now ajar doorway.

This caused your boss to turn and face what took the other’s attention from the conversation at hand. Taehyung looked at you with a scowl plastered on his aristocratic face, eyes ruthless as they bored right through you.

You froze in place as your blood ran cold.

You realised too late that you had made a mistake.

You were in trouble.

“What the fuck did I say about knocking?! You worthless bitch, does your stupidity know of no bounds?” Taehyung snarled, causing your stomach to drop.

“I-I just wanted to give you the coffee and-”

He cut you off, “Details of your incompetence do not interest me.”

Maybe it was because you were sick that your emotions were a tad more sensitive than usual, but for the first time you felt your eyes sting with the incoming tears that welled up in your vision. Your body already felt beat but now your self-esteem took a plummet as well. Taehyung continued to glare at you but you tried to blink the tears away before they could fall.

“I-I’m sorry.” You stuttered before rushing to plop his food onto the table before him and scurry out of the room.

–

Your brain was pounding as if a hammer was rutting against it with a vengeance. Your stomach was twisted in knots as your throat screamed for some type of soother for the scratchy ache it was suffering. You sniffed once more and attempted to focus on the task at hand, answering calls left for the office, but your lids kept dropping due to your drowsy state. You still were licking your wounds after what had happened earlier that morning, for the first time on this job- you fucked up.

You weren’t baffled at Mr. Kim’s reaction, in fact it was to be expected for him to lash out like that. The only cause of disappointment was in yourself. You messed up when you shouldn’t have and unknowingly let the fucker get to you. You hated the fact that he saw you near tears, you hated letting him see you in a vulnerable state. You hated that you almost cowered in fear and let him smell the fear off of you. You were no better than the girls before you. You were proud to think that he would never get under your skin and that you would continue to pull everything off.

But of course there was such thing as the ‘straw that broke the camel’s back’.

You didn’t want to face him, but after the morning progressed into the early afternoon; you were called into Mr. Kim’s office.

“I need a copy of the sales reports on my desk within the next hour. There will be a board meeting at one so I’m going to need you to sit in on that and take notes. I will be going out for lunch via the reservations you made yesterday so if you can call beforehand to double-check that would be great. Also call Kim Namjoon and raincheck drinks at Oliver’s, tell him that I’m free tomorrow night but not tonight. As for now, my brother recently had a baby so I need to send flowers, go out and get some ordered and delivered to the local hospital.” He said all of this without looking up at you once during the dialogue, eyes scanning a paper before him as his deep and cold voice filled the room.

You sniffed out of instinct that can’t be helped when one is ill, to this he looked up at you in neck-breaking speed.

You thought that perhaps he was going to comment on your obvious impaired state now that he was viewing you, but instead he quirked a brow and asked harshly, “Any questions?”

You shook your head no as you ran the mental list once more in your head.

“Then get out of my office.”

–

You waited for the elevator to ‘ding’ with it’s familiar arrival.

You needed to leave the office and get those flowers your boss had asked of you, but also you needed to be back in time for that meeting. So once again, you found yourself in yet another rush. Unfortunately, the fact that Mr. Kim’s office floor was the very top one meant that you had to factor in an elevator ride to and from the top whilst going on these errand runs.

You sighed in impatience as a few more seconds passed, time eating away more than you would have liked it to.

Finally you heard a small sound that signalled an incoming elevator, you entered it when it’s silver doors opened for you.

You leaned against the wall and awaited it’s closure, but right when it was about to shut, a pale and veiny hand stuck out to stop it.

He stepped in, his face being familiar but not enough for you to correctly place your finger on it. He looked at the buttons but he didn’t click any when he saw that you both were heading to the main floor.

The doors closed and you both quietly felt the elevator descend downwards, the two of you facing the doors.

Once again, your sickness caused your nose to sniffle and this brought the attention of the man in the closed space with you.

He turned to face you. His doe eyes studied you for a moment, before a look of realization sparked in his inky orbs.

“Are you Taehyung’s assistant?” You meekly nodded, just now noticing that this was the ‘Mr. Jeon’ that was in the meeting you had interrupted earlier that morning.

You felt his gaze run down your face (which you knew was most likely pale and sick looking with a reddened nose to top it off).

“I’m sorry about what happened earlier…my cousin has always been a jackass.” He told you gently with that high-pitched voice of his that held a light musical tone. You felt your eyes widened in slight surprise at the ‘cousin’ part, but nonetheless you kept your mouth shut. You wanted to ask how the hell this guy was related to the spawn of satan himself, Mr. Jeon having a friendly and amicable tone while Mr. Kim had stick shoved up his ass 24/7. “How long have you been working for him?”

You didn’t know why he seemed so interested in that, but given he was your superior you answered; “A little over a month now, sir.”

He snorted at the ‘sir’ part but looked at you pitifully as even he must’ve known how hellish that month must have been for you. It was silent for a moment and you both felt the elevator slow down, telling you that you were about to arrive at the lobby floor.

“This might be a little unorthodox, but my company has a paid internship program if you’re interested. It only lasts six months but if your work ethic is good, we can hire you as a full-time employee after those months are up.” He dug into his suit and pulled out a business card before handing it to you.

The doors opened and he stepped out, calling out from over his shoulder; “It’s not much, but it’s better than working for that asshole.”

–

Taehyung was…sinisterly pleased.

When you had walked in that morning without knocking, he was thrilled to finally be able to reprimand you. Sure, it was a small and silly mistake. But it was the first slip-up you had in a month, and of course he was going to pounce on that.

The image of your glassy eyes blinking furiously away at stubborn tears was too good for it to not be burned into his memory. The embarrassment that burned your face with a gorgeous crimson glow was a mouth-watering sight to behold. When your lip wobbled and voice broke as you for once showed him a side of you that he never saw before (a broken and weak one) he couldn’t deny the bliss that overtook him in that moment.

He broke you.

He won.

He wanted to see it over and over again, your watery eyes and pained face that was laced in humiliation. The experience triggering a taboo sense of arousal that had Taehyung taking care of himself under his desk minutes after the meeting finished.

How badly he wanted to be the master of any further emotions of degradation, sadness or pity.

How badly he wanted that expression to be saved for his eyes only.

How badly he wanted to push you to your limits….

It took a lot of Taehyung to not tease you when he had given you your chore list of the day. He limited eye contact and pretended to be engrossed in a stupid HR letter to maintain an image of aloofness. But, it was important that you saw him as cold and unforgiving. A sadist needed to be feared.

He awaited your return eagerly for the meeting that was to be held later that day. He wanted to see if he would have a chance to yell at you and potentially embarrass you further in front of a board of directors. But when he finally walked into that meeting with expectations set of you being there; Irene was in your spot with a notepad in hand.

“Where’s Y/n?” Taehyung whispered in the middle of the presentation to one of his most loyal employees.

In response, she nudged over a paper, still frantically jotting down information that Taehyung lost interest in long ago.

Taehyung’s hands shook in fury as he read the lines over and over again.

It was a letter of resignation.

–

(Two Months Later)

You sat in front of this old and serious man as he looked over your resume once more through his thick prescription glasses.

Your internship with Jungkook’s company did not last long. Not due to a falling out or lack of good work ethic on your part, but due to a mysterious tanking of his company as insider trading and supposed tax evasion caused the business to fail.

Although, this was the story that was released to the press. Loyal workers of the Jeon Corporation will tell you that Kim Taehyung had framed him in a effort to get rid of competition. Somehow, this story was more believable to you than the one the news reported on.

Either way, you were out of a job and desperately needed to find a way to make a living. So here you were, interviewing for some shitty saleswoman position in effort to pay your rent.

“I must say…you have a lot of nerve being here today.” The old man grumbled after looking over his notes once more. You spluttered in confusion at this rude comment. The interview had been going well…what happened?

“Excuse me?”

“We called your former employers for a reference but since your most recent employer is facing jail time, we had to call the one prior to that. CEO Kim Taehyung sent us a fax that said as a worker you have ‘problems listening to specific instructions, lazy and incompetent, and the worst mistake my company will make by hiring you for you cannot handle a shred of responsibility.’”

Your mouth went dry as you pictured the boss from hell laughing evilly as he sent this fax, most likely trying to ruin your life as some sort of sick entertainment.

“I-I can explain plea-” you attempted to speak, only to be cut off with just a look.

The old man looked at you with critical beady eyes as he pointed to the door and said, “I think you should leave.”

–

You stormed into the familiar office with a rage you had never felt before.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and your very livelihood was just fucked with. How were you supposed to pay your bills or even afford to sustain your basic needs when you had someone like Kim Taehyung telling all future employers that you were ‘the worst mistake a company could commit’?

He called you lazy and incompetent! Not once did you fail him in any regard bigger than forgetting to knock on a door one time. You waited on that man hand and foot while allowing yourself to be degraded in the process.

“Where is he?!” You growled to Irene from her usual spot at the front desk.

“Y-Y/n, calm down, okay? I know what he did bu-”

“Where!” You exploded, sick and tired of her always defending him despite all the evidence of him being a devil and ruining innocent people’s lives.

She looked in your eyes and knew that she wasn’t going to convince you to leave. Irene sighed in defeat and muttered, “In his office.”

You ran to his office and visously ripped the door open to enter his little lion’s den that so many careers have met their end in.

He was seated in his lounge area, a glass of Scotch in his large golden hand as he looked up at you in a bored yet amused stare.

You approached him and he just grinned, a whimsical delight spreading across the elegant canvas that was his face.

“Y/n, I was expecting you! Can you get me a refill babe? Ever since you’ve left I’ve had to get my own and frankly, I’m kinda tired of it.” He casually called out, shaking the glass in your direction.

Your brow ticked in annoyance and you noted that it only made him smirk even wider.

So your suspicions were true; he did take pleasure in the pain of others.

“What the fuck?! What was with that reference you gave to that company?! You know damn well that I was the best assistant that you’ve ever had, and this is how you repay me?! Why? Why do you hurt me so much?” You hoarsely yelled as your voice gave out in the end, sadness beginning to overrule anger as you realized just how little your life meant to someone as big as him.

Taehyung was quiet for a moment as a somber look shadowed his face.

Then a chuckle.

That chuckle bled into a thunderous and roaring laughter as he clutched at his stomach. After a solid minute of him laughing like a crazed person, he wiped his tears away and seriously stated;

“Because I like hurting you. And you will learn to like it too. Did you think you could leave that easily? Don’t be stupid sweetie, it’s not a good look and I know you’re better than that. You might as well come work for me given that no other employers in a hundred mile radius will hire you.”

He got up and slowly stalked towards you.

“You should know better than to try to leave someone like me. But don’t worry, I’ll clear matters up in that dumb little head of yours. You’re not just an assistant and I’m not just your boss. Your my pet and I’m your master. I don’t care if you like it or not, because you only have two options. Accept it, or never get a job and starve out in the streets. You will only ever work for and serve me. Sorry I didn’t run that past you when you were working here earlier. I wanted to slowly progress our way there but you left before I could have the chance. Now I have no choice but to push this all on you.”

He was only an inch away from your face now, beaming at your shell-shocked state before he plopped his drink into your hands.

“Now….I believe I asked for a refill.”

(oooof this was kinda trash so srry but that. It ran for longer than I wanted it to so im sorry if it’s long winded. Also spacing might be weird bc my computer is on crack cocaine so that’s fun. Anyway, for inspiration I used @mint-yooxgi‘s Baekhyun yandere CEO story but obvi hers is much better so like check that out. Lemme know what you think and this is chinkbihh signing off.)

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antigenius · 4 years

Text

Rose (Toru Hagakure)

A/n: This was a server collab, skdhsdh I had so much fun though I may forgotten about the soulmate part because I rushed to meet the deadline, oh well- Here’s the masterlist, go check out everything else because GOD are they good!

Onwards!

She was invisible, both literally and metaphorically. She wasn’t strong, she wasn’t quick, she wasn’t clever, she was just… Toru. The invisible girl with no face, and no personality. It was a miracle she wasn’t lost at birth.

A cough wracked through her body, making her heave red rose petals mixed with her blood. They lay prettily in her hands, but it wasn’t pretty in her eyes.

“Hagakure?”

She tossed the petals to the side and wiped the blood on the inside of her skirt. It was gross, sure, but she had to hide it to keep people from getting worried. Especially… them.

Their eyes were warm. Warm like a fire, warm like hot honey tea. Their lips were a soft red, tinted by some chapstick they wore. And their nose… Their nose was so cute. It was cute and all she wanted was to poke it.

“… Hagakure?” They asked again, waving their hand in front of their face. “You okay?”

Toru was struck out of her daze, smiling and nodding before realising that she had to actually say something.

“Yeah! Just a little sick but, I can handle it!” She grins wide, despite their inability to see her. They bit their bottom lip, glancing at her up and down before letting out a sigh.

“Okay. You just…” They frown. “You seem a little troubled lately.”

They hesitated a little before smiling. “Tell me if there’s anything I can do, okay?”

“(F/n)!”

Mina’s voice rang through the corridors, calling them. A small, soft blush scratched its way to their cheeks at their name being called by their crush.

“Sorry, Mina’s calling me. You’re definitely okay right?”

Toru nodded again, cursing under her breath as she spoke. “Don’t worry about me (L/n), I’m good!”

Their lips curl up further, teeth showing their pearly shine. Their eyes crinkle with sincerity.

“Call me (F/n). We’re good enough friends for that, right?”

They let out a small puff of air between their lips, smiling at Toru still before walking away. Another cough left her, the familiar scratchy feeling of a rose petal pushing its way through her throat. The dry, earthy taste was enough to make her feel like gagging, but she swallowed down every petal with a tear.

It wasn’t like they’d notice though.

It had been a week since Toru had seen you. She had been avoiding you that whole time. She’d finish class and go straight to her room, not interacting at all. The other girls were worried, and some tried checking up on her, but they’d never find her. She’d glance wistfully out of the window and daydream in class, making Aizawa call on her to get her out of her daze.

The hallways were empty during lunch hours. Toru was here to avoid everyone, again. Her phone was always buzzing with messages from (F/n), wishing her good morning and good health, voicing their hope that maybe she would open up and tell them what’s wrong, if she wanted of course. Her heart clenched at the thought, rose petals building up in her throat. She balled her hands into fists, forcing down every last petal so that she wouldn’t mess up the halls again. She had done so successfully, until she heard a voice echo her name.

“Hagakure?”

Toru knew that voice like her own name. She scrambled up from the floor and began to get ready to bolt into the classroom, hoping her weak knees would be able to carry her all the way when she felt a hand wrap around her wrist.

She winced, tears pricking the corner of her eyes for the millionth time today. She turned her head slowly, only to come face to face with the very person she had been trying so hard to avoid.

“... (L/n)..?”

Their eyes were brimming with tears, irises swimming in the ocean of concern. She could feel the rose petals rise up in her throat as she struggled to pull away from their grasp.

“Hagakure, what’s wrong? I…- We’ve been so worried about you!” the anger and worry was evident in their voice. Toru flinched at the sudden change in volume. They continued to lecture her and express their worry, but Toru couldn’t even focus on the words they were saying. The longer they were near her, and touching her, the more the petals rose in her throat. Her whole face controted with pain.

“Hagakure…?”

Their rant was cut off, their eyebrows furrowed at the sight of Toru in pain, the grip on her wrist tightening as they brought her closer to try and get a better look.

Toru felt the roses at her throat, ready to burst from her mouth. “No! Leave me alone - just please (L/n) I-”

Alas, her whole body bent forward, shaking as she went into a coughing fit. Rose petals flew from her mouth to the floor drifting beautifully onto hers and their shoes. Their eyes widened as they covered their mouth in shock, frozen and unsure of what to do. The coughing didn’t stop. Once they finally let go of their wrist, Toru fell to the ground on all fours, tears streamed down her face freely and finally once she stopped coughing up the rose petals she brought her hand to her mouth to wipe off the remaining ones.

Her secret had been revealed.

“Y-you have…”

“Hanahaki. Yeah.”

She had a solemn smile on her face, tears hot and burning against her eyelids.

“... I’m sorry.”

They looked up at her, tears pooling in their eyes. They placed a gentle hand on their cheek and rubbed a thumb at where the tear stains had been. “For what..?”

“For falling in love with you.”

They froze. Their mouth was agape, jaw hanging. Toru sighed, still crying.

“I knew you liked Mina, so I stayed quiet. I didn’t want to do anything that wouldn’t help you be happy.” She was trembling, shaking like a autumn leaf that was waiting to fall into a pond, scared of getting ripped apart by the fishes. “All I want is for you to be happy. It’s not like I matter all too much anyway. I’m not strong, not smart, so it doesn’t matter if I’m here or-”

“Shut up, Toru.”

Their voice was ferocious, furious, the use of her first name made Toru stop rambling as she looked towards the person she loved with all her heart. They laugh, quietly and softly.

“You are, and will continue to be, the most amazing person I will ever know. You are confident, you are brave, and you are the best person I’ve met.” They smile that sweet smile that made Toru’s heart beat even faster. “I could travel the world, but I could never find anyone like you.”

They smile even wider, filling Toru’s belly with that warm, fuzzy feeling.

“And you know what the best part is?”

“...What?” She whispered.

They grin, a loving grin, a grin that was so full of passion and love and tenderness that her heart nearly exploded.

“I love you.”

No words were exchanged, none needed to. There was only a smile, then a laugh of pure bliss, followed by a kiss.

The roses were no more.

#toru x reader #toru #hagakure #tooru hagakure #bnha x reader #mha x reader #toru hagakure x reader #hanahaki #fluff

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primalvessel · 3 years

Text

This was supposed to be a birthday present for @azure-steel but writing for a deadline gave me a block halfway through and now it’s too early for sinday so rip me and my timing. ;o;

But anyway. Happy belated birthday Saphie~ I know it’s two days late I’m sorryyyy. It’s a bit of a mess but I hope you get some enjoyment out of the read nonetheless.

Cut for length and naughtiness

When his deliveries had been completed early because bad weather had moved in and someone had called in to reschedule (it was still incredibly novel to Maru to receive calls to his phone, even if it was only Tifa fielding the occasional call to the office phone and passing on messages while he and Cloud were out), Maru was more than happy to park up his bike in the garage, give it a clean of the mud and grime that built up once it had started raining and head inside for a shower.

With no cancellations on Cloud’s end, it meant that Maru was mostly alone in the residential space above the bar while Tifa prepared to open but since he wasn’t entirely alone and nudity probably wasn’t appropriate, after pulling on some boxers the Miqo’te grabbed a shirt that had been tossed aside in the bedroom and pulled it on, peering down at himself when it didn’t fit quite right.

“He won’t mind...” the Miqo’te murmured to himself with a shrug, leaving Cloud’s shirt on and padding on through to the lounge to put the radio on.

Three hours later, Maru was woken from his nap along the couch to the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and as he began to sit up to see who it was, his eyes met Cloud’s and the blond froze. Maru watched the blond’s gaze drink him in slowly, as if there was something different about Maru that he’d not noticed before.

Holding still, Maru’s teeth sank into his bottom lip as he held still, trying to work out what had come over the courier but even that small motion seemed to do something to the blond, whose gaze snapped up to his lips before trailing back down his neck to the lightly rumpled shirt, riding up just slightly above dark coloured boxers.

He barely had time to put the pieces together before Cloud was approaching.

“Ah, I uh... I borrowed your shirt, I hope you don’t mind...”

Cloud replied with a slightly non-committal hum before resting his knee on the couch between Maru’s legs. “Remind me to let you wear my shirts more often,” he said with a slight husk to his voice, one hand reaching forward to slide up beneath that shirt to glide warm fingers over warmer stomach.

A small smirk tugged at the corners of the Miqo’te’s lips and he chuckled softly, head canting just a little to the side as he observed the low burn of desire in that normally chilly gaze.

“Then... welcome home?” Maru purred softly, reaching for a slightly flushed cheek to draw the blond in for a kiss, one that had the Miqo’te moaning quietly against soft lips when he felt the press of Cloud’s growing hardness against him through the slightly baggy pants.

Tifa could climb the stairs at any moment and catch them there on the couch but the potential for it to happen only spurred the blond on and he reached down to undo and push down his pants. He hadn’t anticipated anything more than getting home, getting warm and getting into bed with a hot drink most likely but the sight of Maru there, laid out along the couch wearing his shirt and no pants like a sight meant only for him, it immediately lit a fire within him, one that was only stoked higher still by the sleep-mussed hair, the teasing glimpse of toned stomach.

Looks weren’t everything, Cloud knew, but it should be illegal for someone to look as delectable as the Miqo’te did especially when wearing his shirt.

Rising from the couch only long enough to discard his pants and grab lube, making very clear his intent, Cloud leaned back over the feline, stroking a hand along one of those strong thighs until he could close fingers around the bottom of Maru’s boxers and tug them down, baring the Miqo’te’s length to the warm air of the living space.

Maru helped where he could and with a growing impatience that likely didn’t compare to Cloud’s, he urged the blond on to prep him, reaching down to stroke himself lazily as the blond’s hurried motions betrayed his eagerness. Occasionally the feline would catch Cloud’s gaze flicking up as if to once again take in the sight of him, sprawled on the couch as he was in a shirt that wasn’t his own.

Desire got the better of them both though and soared only higher still when Cloud was finally buried to the hilt inside his increasingly vocal lover.

Clenching around the thickness filling him, Maru pulled Cloud in for another heated kiss only to break it and bury his face in the blond’s neck to muffle his moan as Cloud shifted his hips just slightly. That was all the adjustment afforded them before Cloud began to thrust, rocking the Miqo’te’s shoulders into the armrest of the couch to the tune of soft thumps, breathy gasps and the meeting of sweaty skin.

When one particularly deep, angled thrust brushed along Maru’s prostate just so, he couldn’t help the shout that left his lips, fingers digging into the back of Cloud’s shirt, clawing and dragging at it, thighs clenching around the blond in reflex.

Maru went scarlet when suddenly there came the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Tifa’s voice calling up ‘Is everything alright?’ before the footsteps halted partway up, there was the very faint sound of boistrous calling from the bar and then the footsteps receded once more. The Miqo’te was whimpering, teeth sunk into Cloud’s shoulder to further muffle the noise as his cock wept pearly beads of precum, the reality of how close they’d come to getting caught, however briefly, making him rock back desperately against Cloud’s cock.

Cloud’s heart was racing, his breathing coming in ragged pants after having been held in a rush of fear and arousal. He couldn’t see the Miqo’te’s face but he could feel the heat radiating from him, feel the spot of damp forming on his shirt where the feline’s textured dick was pressed between them. If he hadn’t known already that the Miqo’te had a thing for exhibitionism or the potential of getting caught, he certainly would have after that close call.

Short nails caught and raked down the side of Cloud’s neck as Maru sought something to cling to, catching on the collar of Cloud’s shirt and pulling the blond in so that he could sink teeth into the junction between neck and shoulder, muffling another soft cry as one of Cloud’s hands slipped between them to stroke along the Miqo’te’s achingly hard cock, feeling the small bumps and ridges beneath his palm even as the feline bucked up towards him.

Breathless with need, hips rocking in increasingly shallow, rapid little thrusts, Cloud didn’t need to say anything for Maru to know he was close and it was the lithe body beneath him clenching around his cock as he thrust deeply that sent him over the edge, groaning softly as he filled his lover through several long, deep thrusts.

Almost at the same time he felt the Miqo’te’s cock twitch, heard the muffled mewl so close to his ear and then the feline was painting his hand and his shirt with ribbons of cum as he spent himself between them.

For a long moment the pair of them remained motionless then, breathing heavily and letting their racing hearts slow. Maru pulled back just enough to nudge his nose against the blond’s jaw, warm breath washing over Cloud’s neck before their lips met in a languid, lazy kiss.

“Wow,” Maru whispered softly, relaxed beneath the blond and peering up at him with a lazy smirk. “We should do that more often.”

Cloud’s reply was a soft snort as he eased his length from within the Miqo’te, enjoying the shudder it wrought in the man beneath him before he carefully began to rise from the couch, using the back of it for support when his legs needed an extra moment to take his weight.

“We should shower, before Tifa comes to check on you,” Cloud rumbled pointedly as he watched his lover slowly sit up and get to his own feet, his eyes drawn to the creep of white slowly trailing down the inside of the feline’s thigh. Already flushed cheeks darkened further and azure eyes turned away before he could incite another round within earshot of their far too keenly hearing housemate.

Despite wanting to hurry so as not to invite further potential to get caught with their pants down (literally), Cloud did wait for the Miqo’te to find his feet before they made their way to the bathroom and if Tifa later wondered aloud to them how the potted plant in the corner came to be wearing Maru’s pants, well... The look they shared wouldn’t be enough to give them away when they claimed to have no idea how they came to be there, right?

#azuresteel #avert thine innocent eyes

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spicykoreantatertots · 4 years

Text

Intro: Persona

Pairing: Namjoon x Female Reader

Word Count: 1159 (oops)

Rating: PG

Genres: SFW

Summary: When your life is in danger, an unlikely hero comes to the rescue.

Warnings: Mention of gun violence and falling from heights.

A/N: This is part of my new drabble series that I’m doing for ficswithluv’s Bulletproof Bingo! 24 drabbles in 12 days so I can get that blackout before the deadline. See my challenge post here and the master list here! Message or send an ask to be on the taglist!

This has not been beta read, please be kind! 💜

~~~~~~~

Living in a world where a lucky few have super powers has it’s up and it has it’s down.

Some of the upsides are that the heroes can keep the world safe from various dangers and threats. Crime is kept at bay. Monsters and creatures are usually defeated before they can do much damage. There are healers, finders, and even people who can make ice cream appear from thin air.

One of the downsides is that sometimes you end up trapped in a cage dangling from your 50 foot office building above rush hour traffic. And by sometimes you mean right now. This is happening right now.

You just had to ditch work early today. As you were leaving your office building, some Generic Bad Guy put a gun in your face and kidnapped you. He built some contraption that juts out from the top of the building, so not only are you dangling high in the air, you’re also too far from the building to climb into a window. And now your life’s in peril.

The cops have finally showed up though, and they’ve stopped the traffic. So now when you fall, at least you won’t get pulverized by cars. You’ve been standing in this cage for the better part of an hour, but you’re too afraid to make any moves. You don’t know how well the “villain” secured you to the building.

Suddenly, the cage starts swaying side to side. Maybe they’ve figured out how to rescue you. Angling your face to get a better view, you see a man. Slowly climbing down the chain.

“What are you doing?!” You shout up at him. He doesn’t respond, maybe he doesn’t hear you. But in just a few seconds he’s sitting on top of the cage. “Uh... Hello?”

“Hi!” He cheers, his face appearing in front of you, upside down. He’s wearing a hot pink mask. Lilac hair and two huge dimples on either side of his face.

“Oh good. A hero.” You let out a sigh of relief. “Can you please get me down from here?” You ask.

“I’ll try!” He laughs. Laughs. As though this isn’t a life threatening situation for both of you.

“You’ll try?” You question him. He reaches down with gloved hands and starts breaking the thick metal bars on the cage. He manages to rip one completely off and it plummets to the ground below, landing with a loud clunk. “If you have super strength, why didn’t you just pull the cage up?!”

“I don’t have super strength.” He says calmly, focused on breaking you out of the cage. His dark brown eyes determined.

“Then how are you doing that?!” Your shouting keeps getting higher and higher in pitch the more exasperated you are. “What is your power?”

“Don’t laugh.” He says, looking over at you momentarily.

“Don’t laugh?” What is this guy’s deal?

“I can break just about anything.”

“You can break anything?”

“Just about.”

“And... you’re a hero?”

“Yes.”

“Not a villain?”

“No.”

“Okay...”

“Okay.” He says with finality. He has broken enough bars for you to climb out, but if he doesn’t have super strength, how is he going to prevent you from falling?

He reaches down and offers his hand to help you climb out.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna shimmy back up that chain with you.” You scoff, crossing your arms.

“We’re not climbing. We’re jumping”

“JUMPING?!” You scream, completely outraged.

“Listen, I told you I can break just about anything. I can break our fall.” You’re sure he’s about to start laughing again, but instead he holds out his arm for you. “You’re just gonna have to trust me.”

Against every part of your brain that says this is a bad idea, you can’t help but feel safe with him. Something in his eyes and the way he speaks with such self assurance.

After another moment of thought, you take his hand. In one swift motion, he pulls you up and close to his body. The cage is swinging under the shift of weight. You cling to his waist tightly.

“I thought you didn’t have super strength.” You’re looking up at him now, he’s quite a bit taller than you.

“Just because I don’t have super strength doesn’t mean I’m not strong.” He comments, then flexes one of his biceps. Eyes wide, you can’t hold back the gasp that embarrassingly escapes your mouth. Now that you can see his whole body, you can tell he is definitely strong. He’s wearing fitted black clothes, black boots, and black gloves. The bright pink mask is a little odd, but he makes it work.

“It’s probably best if you close your eyes. Can I pick you up?” He asks politely and then he scoops you up into his arms. “Ready?”

You shut your eyes and nod and he jumps. It’s worse than you thought, the feeling of your heart dropping straight into your stomach. You can’t hear anything over the roar of the air that’s whipping your hair all around. But after about two seconds the wind dies down, your guts catch up with your body.

You aren’t falling anymore. When you open your eyes, he is smiling down at you. When you look down, you’re only about a foot off the ground and slowly, his feet make contact with the concrete.

“You’re safe now.” He leans down to release your legs and you try to get your bearings back on the ground. The crowd that gathered starts cheering and a medic approaches you.

You turn to give your hero a proper thank you, but, in true hero fashion he’s already gone. You see his figure walking away and you want to chase after him, but the medic insists you get evaluated.

~~~~~~~

The next day at work, you are the talk of the water cooler. Everyone gossips about everything that happened to you, but all you can think about is finding your hero.

You’re typing away on your computer in your little cubicle, searching for heroes with the power to break things. It’s apparently more common that you realized. Most people put their talents to use in the wrecking industry. Building demolition, renovation jobs, or junk yards.

“Y/N?” Oh shit, it’s your boss. You quickly exit out of all your none work browsers, hoping she didn’t see. “This is Kim Namjoon, he’s joining your department. You’ll probably have to show him the ropes while he’s getting started.”

You stand quickly to greet your new co-worker. A tall fit man wearing a nice suit and glasses. He’s got dark eyes and a set of dimples that you would recognize anywhere. His unobstructed face is even more handsome than you imagined. A smile spreads across your face.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Kim.” You extend your hand to him and he shakes it, giving you a knowing smile.

You can’t help but wonder if his power includes breaking hearts too...

~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. Check out my masterlist here and the series masterlist here. I’m always looking for betas and friends so send me a message! :)

I only managed to get one drabble up today, but there will be three tomorrow to make up for it. I feel like this could be such a cool and fun story, but it’s hard to cram it into a small number of words.

#ficswithluv #fwlbingo #magicshopnet #bangtanhq #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #joon #rm #superhero!namjoon #namjoon fan fic #namjoon fan fiction #bts #bts fan fic #bts fan fiction

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ghoulciifer · 4 years

Text

submission:

🐸 anon: “hii congrats on 100 followers🥺can i request a hq matchup with a boy.I’ll be anon 🐸 I go by she/her,5’5,have black straight hair,brown eyes and freckles on my nose.Im skinny,my zodiac sign is saggitarius.I get bored very easily,i love watching anime and movies my favorite genre is horror/gore but sometimes even romance😾.Im funny hehe also im the friend people come to when they need advice or just cheering up,i dont like talking about my own feelings and im not a talkative person. I dislike arrogant and loud people.And if i dont like someone they’ll get the hint lmao but if i do like someone i’ll be all over them taking care of them even tho i dont like pda.I like rock/punk music.I have a resting bitch face and look bored all the time(prolly cuz i am)i get attached to people fast and hate if they choose someone over me.Im anxious and have some sad days where i dont want to leave my bed,also struggle w a lot of insecurities.i have few friends cuz imtooshyandawkward.”

notes: 🐸 anon i’m so happy you decided to be a part of my event!! you sound like an adorable human and i really hope you like who i matched you up with! thank you for your support, and i hope you stick around for a lil’ while ❥

why i matched you:

» i really feel like your personalities would mesh well with each other. Ushijima might seem like a stoic, bored brick wall but he’s got feelings, just like you! underneath both of your uninterested facades is a caring human who wants nothing more than to help those they love most.

» your natural humor is what really draws ushi in the most, he might not laugh outwardly but know he’s grinning like an idiot on the inside (and sometimes the outside). honestly he wouldn’t even have to understand what the joke means, just the way you deliver it is enough to make him chuckle. he’s super oblivious 9 out of 10 times but when he actually does register your joke? you’ve got him hooked.

» ushi is also not a super talkative person, so i feel like you two would have lots of comfortable, relaxing dates in near complete silence. he would understand your shy/awkward nature because he’s also kinda reserved and awkward, which, much like you, it often comes off as intimidating or bored. you guys just get each other, y’know?

» not really into pda? not a problem, neither is wakatoshi. he prefers to keep those special touches and intimate moments between the two of you in private. plus, he doesn’t need to be territorial with you at all, everyone already knows you’re dating and wouldn’t dare do anything to piss ushijima off.

» ushijima would never stray from your relationship after it’s been established, he wouldn’t want to waste his or your time with something as silly as picking someone else over you. he’s a very committed partner and will do everything in his power to help you understand that he’s with YOU! no one else!

» ushijima doesn’t have a whole lot of insecurities, his time developing his skills in volleyball helping him build up enough confidence to keep his head high no matter what life throws at him. however, he knows you might not be as fortunate to have that luxury, but that’s okay! he’s gonna be there for you through every self deprecating thought, every panic attack, every depressive episode, you name it. he might be a little rusty at first but once he figures out what works best for you, he won’t leave your side until you’re smiling and telling him how much you love him.

drabble:

A shrill scream rips through the small living room of your shared apartment with Ushijima, and you instantly curl into his side as the sound rings within your eardrums. The horror movie in front of you wasn’t particularly scary, of course - it was your favorite genre. But the actress who was currently being mutilated on screen was doing a very convincing job at conveying her fear of dying, how could you not shutter in response?

Ushijima feels the hand on his waist grip the fabric of his shirt and looks down to see you tucked even further under his arm, the cutest quirk to your brow as you suck in air through your teeth. He grins at the sight.

“You okay, love?”

Your eyes stay glued to the screen as you gently tilt your head upward, eventually meeting his amused gaze with the same disturbed expression. Your bottom lip juts out into a pout when you catch the amused glint in his eye.

“I’m fine, ‘Toshi, but how the hell are you NOT creeped out? Her insides literally just got ripped out of her!”

You had a point - should anyone see this massive man smiling so softly during such a gory moment of the movie, surely they’d think he was insane. But you didn’t realize you’d captivated his attention and tore him away from the movie he, truthfully, really wasn’t all that phased by. He would much rather watch the way you wiggled under the blanket in your laps and hold on tighter to him, as if the more you clung onto him the safer you felt.

Which, of course, was true.

“You’re… precious, you know that?” The hand draped over your shoulder moves to pull you in closer as he leans over and presses a soft kiss to your temple, effectively bringing a hesitant smile to your lips. The notion was so sweet it melted your heart... but the amount of blood on screen made it hard to enjoy the moment in its full glory. As the heat rushed to your cheeks you rolled your eyes and wrapped your arms around his toned waist, nuzzling into his chest and inhaling his scent.

“Yea, yea… let’s just finish the movie, okay? You can tell me how cute I am later.”

deadline for matchups is (08/29/20)! be sure to submit your entry before this date and check the tag #tumplaysmatchmaker to stay updated!

#tumplaysmatchmaker #🐸anon #haikyuu matchup #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #haikyuu matchups #nishiikun’s events

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mintseesaw · 5 years

Text

Prompt: “Where’s my kiss?”

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.6k

a/n: been mentioning the lawyer whom i have a crush with. Thanks for the inspiration atty lol

p.s. i have no time to edit it yet sorry :(

Mondays are expected to be the most productive working day, based on your experience. They are always subjected with the need to fulfill newly given assignments, deadlines for unaccomplished tasks from the previous week, and events occurring simultaneously which most of them require your presence as the public relations officer.

Not to mention that a staff from the executive office just informed you about a meeting which calls for your attendance is about to start in a few minutes’ time. No further information was given to you what it was for. Perhaps, another one of those unnecessary meetings?

The clock is quickly ticking, it seems. Because by the time you’re on your way to the conference hall, you’re already a quarter of an hour late.

Pushing the metal door open, a tinge of nerves struck you at the sudden thought of gaining everyone’s attention when you enter the room.

But your presumption was quickly washed away by the sight of a familiar figure sitting just across the doorway, facing your way. A handsome man in his suit looking so ruthless with his reading glasses on.

What is he doing here?

Yoongi’s eyes were immediately on yours the moment you reveal yourself from the door. His lips curling from your stunned expression.

Oh. The mayor’s general counsel. Right. In some of these meetings, Yoongi is likely to be present as a part of his duty. Although he is not under the local government, he works exclusively for the mayor.

He tapped the seat beside him, unoccupied like most of the seats. It gave you time to skim the enormous, high ceiling room filled with executive chairs and a long, glass table. A sigh of relief went passed your lips as you realized it’s only him and a few familiar faces who are there.

You made your way towards him. A playful smirk dancing on his face while watching you.

“You’re here.” You acknowledged, as if it was not that obvious. You couldn't help but gape at him being so sexy with his glasses on.

“Baby,” he greeted back, his voice hoarse and deep making you shudder ever so slightly. You’re certain if not for the blazer you’re wearing, the goosebumps that appeared on your arms just a millisecond ago would be visible enough for him to tease you for the rest of the day.

He saw your reluctance to his greeting, rather returning a polite smile.

It was a normal thing for Yoongi to be treated so formally by his girlfriend at work. Smiling inwardly, knowing full well how a struggle it is for you to stay cold and unaffectionate towards him.

He took your hand in his and gently kissed the back of it.

“Yoongi,” you warned in a whisper, but enough for him not to miss the underlying consequence if he ever attempt to cross your personal space.

To your relief, Yoongi submitted too soon, “I’ll behave I promise.”

The meeting only started after the mayor arrived. It went by slowly and have you listening not even half of it from pure disinterest. The consultant, in-charge as the speaker, was reprimanding the departments subjected to submitting reports with questionable accuracy. Other than that, it turned out as you expected it to be—boring. Well, aside from the eye-catching presence on your left who kept stealing glances at you every now and then.

Mayor Kim called Yoongi’s attention after the meeting was adjourned. It was an opportunity for you to immediately leave the conference room.

After coming back to your desk, you have not seen him nor have any idea where he is now. Not that it bothers you though. In fact, you were pretty occupied yourself. Nearly forgetting your boyfriend is here in the same building. And if not for one of your colleagues calling out your attention and meekly pointing out behind you, the thought would completely slip your mind.

When you realized he was standing near the elevator like he just came down the floor, you quickly stood on your feet and strutted towards him.

His lips are semi-protruded as his eyes are watching the scene intently.

“Hey. You’re still here…” You smiled, this time sincere and almost wanting to relay a sense of warmth without the need to touch him.

However, gone was his playful mood awhile back. His serious expression was not dissipating, despite your acknowledgment to his presence.

“I was calling you.” He accused. Your eyes went wide, stunned by the intensity of his sentiment.

“You are? Oh! I must have put in my bag, I didn't hear it.”

Despite wearing a pair of 3-inch heels, his neck craned low to stare at you through his glasses.

Your curiosity to his odd behavior grows as he yet to show any sign of enthusiasm. What happened to him while you were away?

“Everything alright?”

His eyes were livid, staring at yours, then shifting at your back strangely aiming the scene where you and your colleagues have formed a circle to eat.

“Yes.” He shot.

When you took a short glimpse behind your back, you realized he was not merely watching them. He was sending daggers to someone, specifically, Taehyung’s back. The same one who has his arm playfully resting over your shoulder before Yoongi got here. Taehyung was apparently making his ex jealous, who is also present in the small gathering. Perhaps, he wants Aly back. The only reason why you allowed him to be that close to you.

“Hey, stop doing that.”

Yoongi’s eyes landed back on you for the nth time, curious.

“Doing what?”

“You’re eye-murdering Taehyung!” You claimed.

“I did no such thing.” He nonchalantly said, feigning innocence.

“Really? Because if looks could possibly kill someone, he would be lying on the floor bleeding by now.”

“Why is he touching you?” Finally, Yoongi dropped the million dollar question.

Little did you know, Yoongi went straight to your floor’s department, skipping the lunch break allotted before the exclusive meeting starts hoping to see you for a moment. To his surprise, he caught sight of a bastard who dared to have his arm on your shoulder. His girlfriend must give a billion reasons why he should not beat the shit out of this boy.

He’s been standing near the elevator, watching the group animatedly interact with each other and he didn’t even see a hint of uneasiness from you even with someone invading your personal space. You even looked happier now than your first encounter with him in the conference room.

“It was nothing, Yoongi.” You reasoned out, trying to pull off a straight face. But Yoongi already hinted the smile ghosting on your expression. What is making you amused in this serious matter?

“Nothing?” He echoed.

Your teeth caught your bottom lip, suppressing the smile threatening to break on your face. He’s jealous.

Isn't he aware how hopelessly in love you are with him that you have not once spared other guys a second look since the day you have grown an attraction towards him? Sometimes, you wonder why you seemed to have lose your sense of appreciation for attractive men. They could be ramping up in a queue and you could still show unenthusiasm watching them parade in front of you. The fact that he’s jealous of someone not even an inch comparable to him is beyond you.

“Taehyung was making his ex-girlfriend jealous.” A smile finally broke out of your face. Your hand clasped around his arm, “You have nothing to be jealous about, love.”

“I’m not jealous.” He shifted his head, suddenly avoiding eye contact from you.

Your eyebrow arching in his lying ass.

“Okay, you’re not jealous, then.” You shrugged, like you actually believe him. “Perhaps, you want to join us?”

“I have another meeting with the mayor...” he pauses, taking a quick glance at his wristwatch before continuing, “—in five minutes.”

“Oh.” Did he just come down here just to see you? Sweet.

He’s been one to show disinterest from affection. But deep down, you also knew how much he craves for it. He would never ask for it, either, even though his actions would show otherwise. Not everyone is aware how caring and sensitive he is when it comes to his family, to his friends, to you. Not only that his line of work requires to make people believe he is nothing but a ruthless lawyer, but his personality limits his capacity to socialize. Thus, his shyness towards others leaves them to assume he is cold and unapproachable.

You heard Yoongi called your name which snapped you from your reverie. He’s been trying to, for the past ten seconds. You looked at him in question.

“My kiss.”

K-Kiss? Did you hear it right?

Meanwhile, Yoongi needs some kind of consolation after what you put him through. His heart was nearly ripped apart from the mere sight earlier regardless of it being staged. The closest thing he can get at this point is your kiss. And based on your expression, he knew you’re not one to give it to him that easy.

“What?”

“Where’s my kiss?” He asked so cooly as if it’s a piece of item he’s requesting.

You blinked furiously, “A-Aren’t you supposed to go back in the conference room?”

“You haven't greeted me properly, baby.”

As much as you want to have a full make-out session with him right now, any type of public display of affection is prohibited inside your workplace.

“But...we’re both at work.”

“And? Perhaps, you want me to drag you inside the restroom for you to give me a kiss?”

Your eyes shut out of frustration. You’re going to get yourself in trouble if you give in.

Perhaps, he’s wrong to assume that you’re not gonna allow his request. The side of his mouth curling at your dissipating defiance. He’s winning.

Sighing, you stood on your tiptoes, submitting your lips on him. However, his hands were already on both your cheeks, controlling your movement, and prolonging the supposed millisecond kiss. A sudden rush of blood formed on your cheeks, tinting the skin in embarrassment from the thought that your co-workers witnessed the act. There’s no way they couldn't have.

When satisfied, he drew back. An arrogant smirk evident on his face.

“Happy?” You weakly seethed.

He seemed not one bit affected by your sarcastic remark. He was even smiling, to make your mood worse.

“Hmm. I’ll wait for you at the lobby after work, alright baby?”

#yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #daeguboynet #hyunglinenetwork #bts fluff #btsprotecnet #mygsnet #boyfriend!yoongi #lawyer!yoongi #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader

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