#it's only a *partial* cover technically but shush

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

My collection of Old Deuteronomys/Guses who cover “Memory” is growing *very* slowly, but very surely (with a guest star from Jennyanydots).

Enrique del Olmo - Old Deuteronomy (Mexico Tour 1991, Mexico Tour 2014/2018) Javier Díaz Dueñas - Gus/Bustopher Jones/Growltiger (Mexico Tour 1991) Simone Brook - Jennyanydots (Mexico Tour 1991) Marisol del Olmo

#it's only a *partial* cover technically but shush #CATS Musical #CATS Mexico #CATS on Tour #(Mexico 2013) #(Mexico 2018) #videos #why does memory hit so much different as a group number/traded parts? #not me thinking of gus grizabella and old deuteronomy singing memory - not today satan

[joonsdiary]

the ceo’s keeper

↳ part three of the: (not) the love of my life series

pairing: seokjin x reader (female) genre: arranged marriage au // humour with a dash of fluff and sprinkle of angst  word count: 5,8k

chapter summary: visiting seokjin in his Tower of Terror™ reveals he carries a lot more baggage than you intend to claim.

warning. alcohol consumption, a few curse words here and there; nothing worth putting the mature tag but i’d still advice to proceed with caution. 

note. putting it out there since i don’t think i’ve mentioned it before, but this fic was initially inspired by yuna’s (not) the love of my life. just putting it out there as a song rec in case you’ve not heard it yet!

the proposal | the first date | the ceo’s keeper | the engagement

“Guess who’s in the front cover of Daily Gossip and is trending number one in the search engines?” Taehyung barged into Seokjin's office early Monday morning a few seconds after Mina phoned his arrival. His brother plopped himself in the plush leather chair across his office table, lifting one leg to rest it on top of the other.

Seokjin didn’t have to guess as he often donned the front cover of plenty of tabloids. But not because of anything work-related, which he never really understood. Were his date nights that interesting to many people? Must be, if they were constantly writing about it. He then remembered your quip a few days ago regarding his ‘date’ with the president’s daughter but was quickly reminded that a certain Yoongi had told you about it. The corner of his lips curled downwards. 

“Aren’t I always on the front cover?” he doesn’t even bother to look up as he spoke while continuing to type endlessly on his keyboard. If there was one thing he hated about his job, it would have to be coordinating e-mails. He would usually allocate the task to Mina, but certain emails that contain sensitive information would have to be drafted by him.

“Yes, but, hear this—” Taehyung cleared his throat for effect and shifted in his seat, holding his phone in front of him theatrically, “Seoul’s most eligible bachelor’s newest FLING is somebody you won’t expect!” 

“As I said, it’s nothing new,” he deadpanned.

Taehyung chastised him with a shush before continuing.

“Kim Seokjin’s date du jour – I’m pretty sure they used the word in the wrong context here – is the twenty-four-year-old hotelier – wait, she’s that young?”

“I can’t interrupt you, but you keep stopping yourself for your little commentaries,” Seokjin grumbled as he hit the send button, only partially listening to Taehyung. “And she’s practically the same age as you.” 

“Yes, but an owner, albeit previously, of a hotel? That’s pretty impressive.” 

Seokjin rolled his eyes at Taehyung’s remark, but one of the reasons why he’d agree to this whole masquerade in the first place is due to your reputation. You were a woman of class and grace in spite of your moderate — for a lack of a better term — upbringing. As far as he was concerned, you were respected among the elites; the perfect remedy to clear his name of his tarnished credibility, which he blames solely on the tabloids. Whoever he chooses to go on a date with, no matter how frequently the person changed every week, was no one’s business but his. 

Yet the camera lenses never strayed too far from him wherever he went. It was tedious and stupid because he wasn’t some celebrity who craved attention. Yet he had to make peace with the fact because the board of directors was all about reputation instead of the actual work that Seokjin put into elevating the company.  

“Anyway, back to the gossip,” Taehyung scrolled down further on his screen, “blah, blah – oh! We have a feeling she’s special because unlike his other dates, he brought her to his upscale restaurant, Chateau – You had dinner at Mom’s restaurant? That is certainly news.”

The fact that Taehyung still referred to it as ‘Mom’s restaurant’ brought warmth in Seokjin’s chest. 

“It was a last-minute decision. She said she went on a date at the place you suggested the night before.” 

“That is also news,” Taehyung said, teasing. “Do tell me the details, dear brother.” 

“Apparently it was a move to get under her parent’s skin. It was shortly before she knew of my proposal, obviously. Nothing much to spill.”

“Mhm,” the smirk lingered on Taehyung’s lips, but he pressed on with the article. He quietly read with his eyes for a while before blurting out an expletive, which caused Seokjin to look up momentarily from his screen. 

“What?”

Taehyung sighed as he squinted at his brother, reciting the text verbatim. “But their rendezvous, however, ended early with them parting ways; he headed straight to Kim Hotel after dropping her off. Does this mean the night didn’t go as they’d planned? Will she be another date-and-dash for our handsome CEO-to-be?” 

“Date-and-dash,” Seokjin scoffed before laughing in disbelief. “That might be the best term they’ve come up with so far.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t want everybody to think this is another date-and-dash for you.” 

“I’m only worried about Dad’s opinion. Everybody else can think whatever they want.”   

“They can still hire an outsider as CEO.” 

“Dad wouldn’t let them do that.”

“There’s only so much power he can hold. That’s what the board of directors is for.” 

He paused, letting Taehyung’s words simmer. His brother never bothered much for the corporate side of the business, opting to delve more into his artistic side. He was responsible for much of the interior design of any and every Kim Hotel they decided to build, but that’s about it as far as his contribution went. If Taehyung was content and satisfied with whatever he chose, then so was Seokjin. 

“You’re right,” Seokjin’s lips pursed, hating the admission.

“Aren’t I always?” Taehyung snorts before sighing and putting his phone away. “You’re going to have to put a little bit more pep in your step, as the saying goes, if you want to make this look more sincere than it actually is.”

Seokjin contemplated the implication of the word sincere. He thought he had been as truthful as possible in his interaction with you two nights prior. His conversation with you ebbed seamlessly, save for the second half of the night where you discussed business. It had been the sincerest interaction he had with a woman whom he didn’t have to bed that same night as he normally would. The farthest he’d gone with you so far was a chaste kiss on the forehead, which he deemed you were uncomfortable with. 

“Should I make out with her on our next date, then?” Seokjin quipped. He didn’t mean it seriously, but the delighted look in his brother’s face told him they weren’t on the same page. “I was kidding, V.” 

He threw the nickname out with an ill-intention, knowing how much Taehyung resented it. His brother sighed, slumping on the chair and mussing his curly locks. It baffled Seokjin how one could grow their hair out past their eyebrows, but it seemed to suit Taehyung, nonetheless, fitting with the artistic look he was trying to accomplish.

“It’s something to talk to her about. If she’s comfortable with it, then why the hell not?” Taehyung shrugged, tugging at his turtleneck. 

Would you even be open to the idea? Hell, you’re bound to get married in less than three weeks, but he hadn’t entertained the thought. All the women he’s dated so far knew what to expect of him, and vice versa: sex after dinner. That was the mantra. 

“I don’t know, Taehyung…” he trailed off. 

It’s not that he thought of you as a prude, but his arrangement with you had strictly been business, and Seokjin was the type not to mix the two. He never pried with anything past surface level with the women he had relationships with; he never stayed long enough to know. Or he wasn’t interested enough to stay and get past the tip of the iceberg. 

He no longer wanted to entertain the idea of forever with somebody, and longevity isn’t something he’s interested in. Been there, done that. Not exactly his cup of tea — he’d learned the hard way. Best he moved along.

“Fine, but mild contact is still on the table. You didn’t even hold her hand, according to the article.” 

“I did,” Seokjin said defensively. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure, and that was a problem in and of itself. 

“Tell her, Jin.” 

“I will if it gets you off my back. Now kindly screw off,” he grinned at his inside joke before continuing. “I have a meeting with a contractor in five minutes.” 

“Ouch, since when do you use such harsh words, dear brother?” Taehyung whined, clasping the front of this sweater with his hand. He straightened up, nonetheless, slipping his phone in the pocket of his black slacks. “Jeju?” 

Seokjin nodded, opening another email that needed a return message. 

“Shouldn’t Namjoon be here for that?”

“I already called him this morning. He’s still having way too much fun in Switzerland, but he’ll be back by the end of the week.” 

“Taeri’s probably mad that you’re pulling her husband away from her so early after their wedding.” Taehyung laughed as he shook his head, but Seokjin only grinned.

“It’s been two months. He has to come back. This operation doesn’t run itself; I’ll have you know.” 

Taehyung dismissed him with a passive, “Yeah, yeah.”

There’s a pause, and Seokjin furrowed his brows at his brother’s sudden teasing expression.

“But I still can’t believe he got married before you.” Taehyung pointed an accusing finger at him, and Seokjin laughed.

“I can’t believe it either. He’s certainly way worse than I am.”

“But better at break-ups than you are. You just leave them hanging,” Taehyung squinted his eyes with indignation. Seokjin gives his brother a tight-lipped smile.

“Not entirely true. I technically don’t do the whole dating thing officially. What’s more, I give them—”

“Mr. Kim, your ten-thirty is here,” Mina’s voice crackled through the phone. Seokjin sighed in relief, grateful for once that he was being interrupted with another meeting.  

“I guess that’s my cue,” Taehyung turned, his Gucci loafers dragging him halfway through the office. “Don’t forget to tell Y/N.”

“I won’t. She’s stopping by later.” 

“Oh? I should stick around, then.” 

“We don’t need your constant badgering, thank you very much.” He called out, but Taehyung was already out of his office by then.

                                      *  *  *

You had never been to the Kim Hotel before, there was simply no reason to step foot into one of their many copy-and-paste buildings that dotted the entire country. You joked to Seokjin a few nights ago about the hotel being his tower, but the building was indeed massive, which would make sense seeing that they are billionaires, after all. They wouldn’t have a measly bed-and-breakfast type of hotel like you do. You stood rooted to the ground, squinting up the massive fortress.

(You’d think at some point they’d have to consider the safety of the poor birds that get confused and end up slamming themselves into its reflective windows, but that seemed like a thought for another day.)

Pushing aside all the uneasy feeling that bubbled from your stomach, you collected yourself mentally and pushed through the revolving doors. It was exactly like you thought it was — the pinnacle of contemporary interior design. Everything blended seamlessly, uncluttered and unbearably white it was practically blinding you. Not wanting to be caught ogling the furniture, you made your way to the steel elevators, punching the button to the highest floor. Seokjin didn’t give you any details as to where his office is located, but surely the highest floor of this gargantuan building would belong to him. The doors slid open after what seemed like a lifetime, and you were greeted with a curt voice.

“Do you have an appointment?”

You blinked, unsure of what to say. “I believe so. My name is—”

“Finally! I thought you’d never arrive,” a brunette with an uncharacteristically wavy hair came bumbling out of what you assumed was a boardroom office. His hands were buried in the pocket of his loosely fitted slacks and an easygoing aura surrounded him. His presence was unmistakable, and despite not sharing the same facial features as Seokjin, you could tell who it was.

“Taehyung?”

His eyes lit up when you said his name as his lips formed into an attractive smile. He turned to Seokjin’s secretary.

“Mina, darling,” he said languidly, but the female did not bat her mascaraed eyelashes. “Will you let us in?”

Ah, so this was the lady you spoke with on the phone when you’d initially tried to get a hold of Seokjin. She seemed less terrifying when you met her face to face; her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail and she wore minimal makeup. She looked friendlier than she sounded, why were you afraid of calling, again?

“Mr. Kim is in a meeting right now,” she busied herself with her work while she spoke. “If you’d wait a moment—”

“But Mina, baby,” Taehyung crooned, leaning over her desk perhaps a little too close. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his antics; he’s certainly quite different from how Seokjin acted. Whereas Seokjin kept himself aloof most of the time, Taehyung wore his emotions on his sleeve. Both are still unabashedly forward, nonetheless.

Mina stayed impassive, and you can tell why Seokjin hired her to guard his lair — the woman could not be cracked. You admitted to yourself that if Taehyung were to charm your pants off, you’d be completely hooked.

His efforts were rendered futile, however, when the wooden doors of Seokjin’s office opened and gave way to an ebony-haired woman. She was in the middle of securing her wool coat as her heels echoed with confidence through the marble floors, side-stepping to get around you but not before flashing you a lithe smile. The self-assurance you held before walking into the building had all but withered away.

“Taehyung.” She greeted him, but he only stared at her with an impassive gaze. “It’s nice seeing you around here.”

She headed straight to the elevators and disappeared even before you could blink.

“I didn’t think she’d be here today,” Taehyung mumbled.

“She’s the president’s daughter, right?” you asked, not bothering to remember what her name was. Taehyung nodded.

Strictly business my ass. You didn’t want to care, but your all-too-sudden sour mood said otherwise.

You push past the same wooden doors as the woman had earlier and you find Seokjin propped to his desk, hair slicked back, forehead taut in concentration as he focused on whatever was on his screen. If he’d been doing The Deed, you don’t think he’d look as put together as he currently does. That much was enough for you to relax into his leather chaise. Taehyung followed closely, opting to sit on the couch on the far side of the room.

“Future wife, how are you today?” Seokjin began, and you’re irritated slightly by his refusal to set aside whatever he was doing.

“About as well as one can be while visiting their corporate shark fiancé, Mr. Kim. You?”

Taehyung barked out a laugh from where he sat, and you patted yourself on the back. It’s the little accomplishments, you mused to yourself.

Seokjin’s head snapped at Taehyung and he gave his brother a glare that sliced through the room.

“I told you that you’re not needed here today, Taehyung.”

Taehyung ignored Seokjin, clutching his stomach as he wiped away imaginary tears. “Damn, can I be married to her instead?”

“I don’t like the idea of me being thrown around like a piece of meat for your amusement,” you deadpanned, and Taehyung straightened up quickly.

“I didn’t mean to offend, Sis. I only wanted to rile Jin up for my amusement.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he gave you another million-dollar smile. Seokjin sighed as he stood, buttoning up the blazer of his suit. He picked up a manila envelope that was on the edge of his desk before rounding the table.

“You don’t have to sign today. You can take it home and read it over with a lawyer if you want.” He hands you the files before leaning back into the glass table. You shook your head as you pulled out the documents with confidence. If there had been one thing you learned from your parents, it was how to properly read official documents without glossing over important details. Legal documents often used extensive jargon, and you could easily tell they were drafted by actual lawyers. It gave you a tiny bit of relief that he wasn’t trying to scam you.

Your fingers skimmed your hotel’s name in print, somehow unable to wrap your mind around the fact that you no longer owned it. But the promise was clear in ink under commencement of your divorce: your hotel would be yours.

“Do you need one?” Your head lifted to meet Seokjin’s gaze after minutes of silence. He offered a fountain pen that glinted against the afternoon sun as he moved it closer to you. You felt a wave of emotions suddenly overwhelming you, and you blink up at him before shaking your head.

“Maybe I should look it over with a lawyer, after all,” you mumbled while giving him a timid smile. He nodded in understanding and moved back behind his desk.

“It’s no pressure at all.”

“It’s not that… I just,” you inhaled through your nose and out through your mouth. Between revealing your true feelings or lightening the mood with a banter, you chose the latter. “I just want to make sure you’re not hiding any tricks up your sleeves, Mr. Kim.”

“I’m not one to joke around with things like this, Ms. Hwang,” Seokjin said pointedly, and you frowned. Okay, not the mood I was going for.

“That’s true; he doesn’t. He’s as uptight as they come.” Taehyung quipped, rising from his comfortable spot before plopping beside you. He patted your shoulders, almost apologetically. “You’ll get used to him.”

“I highly doubt that,” you snorted, stuffing the papers back in their envelope. “I have no interest in being the CEO’s keeper.”

Taehyung peeled back from you for another belly laugh, and Seokjin rolled his eyes. “I’m right here, you know.”

Taehyung waved him off dismissively and turned back to you. “I wish we’d met under different circumstances, Y/N.”

There was a wicked gleam in Taehyung’s eyes, but you knew he was being playful rather than having malicious intent.

“Didn’t you say there was something else you wanted to talk about, V?” Seokjin’s voice was seething, which caused Taehyung’s grin to grow wider.

“Right, right,” he shifted in his seat as he whipped out his phone. “I made notes, hold on.”

“What’s this about?” you looked between the brothers with confusion.

“Apparently we did the whole ‘date’ thing wrong.” Seokjin deadpanned, rolling his eyes before he turned back to his work.

“Meaning?”

“One, lack of intimacy,” it was Taehyung who answered, and you blush at his comment. You’re reminded of how Seokjin had pulled you against him the moment you stepped out of the car.

“Going excessive on the first date would’ve made it seem disingenuous,” you pointed out, and Seokjin mumbled in agreement.

“Do you not know how Jin usually is with his former dates?” Taehyung asked, which froze Seokjin mid-type.

“I don’t make the habit of reading gossip blogs and tabloids for celebrities,” you mumbled, hoping they bought into your pretense of being calm. In your head you prayed Taehyung wouldn’t elaborate; the image of Seokjin with other women made you want to hurl your guts out. “I could honestly care less.”

“Right,” Taehyung gave you a slanted gaze, and you shrugged. “Please keep in mind to give a little bit more, next time, then.”

“Will do, Chief,” Seokjin grumbled, massaging his temples with both his hands.

“Second, no going home separately, especially since news of your engagement will hit the public this week.”

You fidgeted in your seat, the air in the room suddenly growing warmer.

“There’s a spare room in the penthouse suite,” Seokjin motioned at a door on the other side of his office with his chin. “The bathroom is always stocked with amenities in case—”

The word in case hung in the air like a thick fog, and Seokjin did not have to finish the sentence for you to figure out what he was trying to get at. The message was clear. But to be quite frank, you couldn’t care less. Right before agreeing to the arrangement, it was clear that Seokjin was that type of man, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that he would bring women to his home, which also happened to be where his office was. Yet, there was an uncomfortable prickle in your heart and your palm unintentionally raised to soothe the phantom pain.

“I’m alright with taking a spare office or something. I’ll work for a few hours then head home past midnight. That should raise enough eyebrows, right?” you hoped neither one of them noticed the slight quiver in your voice.

Taehyung must have sensed it because his voice grew quiet. “Okay, I’m sure you two will work something out. That’s it, for now. I’m going to assume the rest will come naturally.”

You had a feeling he had a longer list but opted to be sensible enough to feel your mood shift. Seokjin didn’t say anything, but the lack of clicking noises coming from his direction told you he’s not working, either. You turned, locking gazes with him, but he remained expressionless which irritated you more than you’d like to admit.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave,” you brushed imaginary lint off your high-waisted slacks as you stood up.

“So soon?” Taehyung pouted, earning a small laugh from you. The nerves were slowly dissipating, and you were glad.

“I have a date,” you paused, gauging Seokjin’s reaction. The scowl on his face made you smirk. “With some classmates from uni. Gotta keep up with the social circle if I want occasional help with my thesis, right?”

While that was true, the dinner isn’t until three hours from now. But you had no plans to stay here a minute longer; the tense air was suffocating you.

“Don’t be a stranger, Sis.” Taehyung engulfed you in a warm hug and you patted his back, chuckling in amusement.

“See you around, Taehyung.” As you pulled away, you gave Seokjin a slanted gaze. “I’ll give the papers back as soon as I can.”

You wobbled slightly as you headed for the door, disappointed that Seokjin didn’t stop you. He didn’t even bid you farewell. You scoffed.

“Have a good afternoon, Ms. Hwang.” Mina greeted you as you made your way to the elevator. You turned back to her with a genuine smile.

“You as well.”

+++

The pulsing beat of the music had your head throbbing with pain, but you didn’t think it’d be wise to complain. Especially because you couldn’t quite look Seokjin in the eyes for reasons completely unknown to you. Or perhaps you did know, you just chose not to dwell on them.

Two days after your productive visit to Seokjin’s Tower of Terror, your calendar graciously reminded you of another date you’ve set up with him. There was supposed to be a lunch date the day prior, but due to unforeseen circumstances (more so on his part rather than yours), you both agreed to have it cancelled. He apologized, but you dismissed him and said that you forgot that your mother had asked you to visit her and your father, anyways.

(In reality, she hadn’t and was delighted you called to say you were bringing them take-outs for lunch.)

“Wednesday nights are busier than I thought,” Seokjin mused, pulling you out of your mini daydream. You looked up, which proved to be a mistake because the club’s lights flickered in a way that accentuated his features; his straight nose that’s angled between his ever-so-prominent cheekbones. His fringe was down that evening — a sight that you have not yet witnessed. It made him seem younger than his actual age; more laidback, less prim and proper. In any other given scenario, this would not disarm you, but the occasional spark of colour highlighted how close his face was from yours.

In other words, you really ought to get used to being in close proximity to him if you were to continue this ordeal.

“It’s always full of people, no matter the day.”

Seokjin’s brows furrowed as his head dipped, inching his ears closer. You knew you’d flinch away if his arm wasn’t draped around your shoulders. “What was that?”

“I said it doesn’t matter what day it is — it’s always full here,” his scent made you feel more inebriated than the alcohol you held. You found it surprising that Kim Seokjin is not much into the club scene, thinking that people like him often spend half their time wasting away

He whipped his head to meet your gaze once more, a grin forming on his lips. “Of course, you’d know.”

There was something in the tone of his voice that made you want to defend yourself. “I have a social life too, Mr. Kim.”

“I never said you didn’t. But you’re more of a designated driver type rather than the drunk, party all night type of gal. Am I right?”

Your eye twitched in annoyance. Was he really stereotyping you now?

“You don’t know the half of it, Kim Seokjin,” you mutter, unsure whether he heard you or not. But you didn’t care, and instead proceeded to finish your margarita in one chug. You set down on the glass table in front of you before peeling yourself off of him and the velvet sofa. The desire to prove you weren’t prude — despite him not saying it outright — felt greater than your sense of logic and reasoning.

You wobbled slightly as all the blood in your system rushed to your brain. But you managed to steady yourself as you turned back to Seokjin. He watched you with interest, but his lips remained sealed in a grin.

“I do like being the designated driver at times. No shame in keeping my friends safe. Am I right?” you pushed Seokjin’s shoulder with one finger until his back hit the plush sofa. There was no turning back, you realized, when your leather skirt hitched higher as you placed your knees one after the other, effectively trapping him between your thighs. Alcohol was definitely coursing through your veins as you sat on his lap.

It never occurred to you that you’d be so brazen in front of Kim Seokjin. But here you were with your cheeks flushed and heart hammering wildly against your chest, wanting so desperately to prove that his expectations of you were wrong.

“But I can also have fun without being shit-faced.” The less you think about it, the better it was for you not to get embarrassed. So, you ignore his smug, seemingly unfazed expression as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You were convinced you’ve only got one functioning brain cell left. But if Taehyung were present to judge, you knew he would gag with approval.

“Is that so?” Seokjin played along, and you weren’t entirely shocked; the man was probably used to such endeavours on a nightly basis before your arrangement. He placed his palm against the small of your back, and instead of pulling away, you leaned closer. Being this promiscuous in private was nothing new for you, but never when you knew there were several eyes trained on you like a hawk.

“Shall we give them something to write about, fiancé?” your eyes trailed down to his lips before meeting his gaze once more. You knew he wouldn’t oppose, but you still needed his consent. He nodded with a glint of amusement in his eyes and the next thing you knew, your lips were in his. He was firm and unwavering, slightly aggressive but he damn well knew what he was doing. It felt as if he'd set your body on fire with one singular moment.

You broke away first, eyes seeing but unfocused as you heaved a sigh, lungs welcoming the sweet taste of oxygen. Seokjin chuckled as he studied you with newfound interest, surprisingly well put together compared to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Mhm,” you peeled back from him, pulling your leather skirt down in the process. “That’s probably enough to placate the onlookers.”

You looked around, but the dim lights made it hard to see beyond a few meters. Seokjin followed your actions, and you feel the familiar warmth emanating from him once more. His arm was draped around you once more, but the gesture felt natural this time around. The mere smile he gave you was enough to send butterflies drifting in your stomach. You wouldn’t dare to admit it out loud, but at least you wouldn’t have to pretend to be attracted to him.

                                      *  *  *

“Birthday?” 

“Couldn’t you have just googled this? I’m sure I have a Wikipedia page.” Seokjin said, quite peeved that you didn’t know his birthday yet, when he’d memorized yours: May 24, 1996. You gave him a deadpan look and he sighed defeatedly. “December 4.”

“Year?” 

“Seriously?” 

You said nothing, opting to dip a fry in your Oreo-flavoured ice cream instead. He wasn’t surprised when you asked to ditch the club to eat, citing that you’d puke your guts out if you didn’t get any food in your system. He didn’t think you meant McDonald’s at midnight. 

“1992.” 

“Was that so hard?” you mumbled, typing the information on your phone. “Your birthday is coming up soon.” 

“If by soon you mean two months from now, then yes.” 

“Technically, it’s the seventh today, so it’s less than two months,” you pointed out but didn’t wait for him to return the conversation. “Favourite colour?”

“Are you writing a slam book? Would you like to know who my celebrity crush is, as well?” he rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, actually. Let me guess; is it Florence Pugh? Ana de Armas? Brad Pitt? Or someone local…Jun Jihyun?” you mused. He only shook his head at your antics, convinced that you were not fully sober yet. “I’m kidding. I’m just filling out your contact information.” 

You slid your phone across the table, which landed perfectly in front of him. True to your words, most of the information was filled out: Rapunzel donned the first name, and nothing was filled out for the last name option. He chuckled but didn’t bother changing it to his actual name and proceeded to input his number. 

“That was smooth, Y/n, I must admit. You couldn’t have just asked for it straight up?” 

You shrugged. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

He handed your phone back, and moments later, his phone buzzed in his jean pockets. He opened the message — no doubt it had been from you. 

𝗂 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 “𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾” ;)

Seokjin simply shook his head; it felt unfamiliar for him to be smiling so much he could feel his cheeks go numb. If he knew how amusing it would be to go on a fake-real-date with you, he would’ve asked his father to set him up with you.

Wait, what?

He turned two strides back, retrieving the steps he made. Certainly, you couldn’t have grown on him so quickly — but in reality, it felt like that for a while now, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He thought the whole ordeal with you would be cumbersome, but it’s been quite the opposite so far. He commended your tenacity to go along with any plans he’s laid out, so far.

That’s because you’re holding her hotel hostage.

To be quite frank, it would’ve been none of his business if he decided not to meddle with his father’s whims. But he’d honestly rather be divorced and have his father lash out at him than be stuck in some arrangement he didn’t want. While it’s true that he could divorce you, either way, the key was the illusion of being in love. As Taehyung kindly pointed out to him: How devastating would it be that you both fell out of love, that they won’t consider rescinding the CEO position once you have it?

The stories would circulate around the heartbreak, instead of the bluff that was his arranged marriage for the sake of saving face. 

Although now that he was sitting across from you as he watched you relentlessly dip your fried potatoes in your ice cream for the umpteenth time, the prospect of being married to you no longer felt as daunting. Especially if you were willing to make out with him on occasion as you had earlier. It wasn’t part of the contract, but he was willing to add the extra clause if you’d agree. 

“What do you have that creepy grin for, Mr. Kim Seokjin?” 

“I’m thinking of taking you home with me tonight, Ms. Hwang.” Seokjin’s satisfaction was evident in his smirk when he saw your eyes widen. He swore he saw you go through five emotions in the span of a mere second. 

“Stop teasing. It’s not funny.” 

He watched your already blushed cheeks turn a shade deeper as he chuckled. “I’m not teasing. Taehyung’s rules, remember?” 

“Oh, right,” you blinked at him blankly. “I forgot to bring my laptop with me so I can have something to work with.”

“You were serious about occupying an office space?” he gawked, brows knitted. 

“I was. I’m not sleeping over in your Mistress Suite.” You said in a monotone voice, but the indignation in your eyes told Seokjin you were more than serious — you were offended. At least he could tell that much.

“That name has a nice ring to it. Do you mind if I start calling it that, instead of just the guest room?” The pointed look you gave him made him think you were less than amused with his banter. Seokjin sighed and stood up, motioning for you to follow. “Don’t worry, no one has stayed there for two weeks.”

“I really didn’t need to know,” you grumbled. Seokjin reached out for you to take his hand. 

“I’m sure you didn’t. But I’d still like to let you know that I wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize this arrangement.” 

That was part of the truth. The other part came in the form of his animosity towards infidelity. Seokjin genuinely hoped you didn’t think he would cheat on you during the span of your agreement. He had issues committing, yes, but he couldn’t begin to imagine inflicting such pain on another person. Not when he’s had firsthand experience on the subject.

It reassured him that there was an end to your charade, a point where he can say checkmate and the game would be over. Commitment still has to be made, for sure, but nothing that would leave him like an empty husk of his former self afterwards. No monsters under the bed, no skeletons in the closet, either.

You slid off the booth but did not take his outstretched hand, so he casually stuffed in his pocket. You were setting your limits, and he had to respect that. Perhaps the silly extra clause he thought of will not be a necessity, after all.

NEXT ;

thanks for reading this chapter. feedback is always appreciated! ♡

#seokjin fic #seokjin scenarios #jin scenario #seokjin scenario #bts scenarios #bangtan scenario #jin scenarios #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin x reader #bts fanfic #seokjin angst #seokjin fluff #seokjin smut #jin #seokjin #taehyung scenario #writing

[senaar-ika]

Masterpiece (Charlie Barber)

And for my first fic I present you: getting nasty in an art museum with our classy dom Charlie! I’ve been thinking about this since I first saw Marriage Story since it’s set in NYC and that’s also the home of some wonderful museums with private corners -wink wink- Of course seeing as it’s my degree, I can’t help but use this idea to also teach you sexy reader a little bit about art history too so apologies if the set up is a bit long. This is actually the first time I’ve written a full length smutty fic, so I really hope you enjoy! 

Warnings: it’s smut, it’s a little kinky, it’s in public, it’s fingering, some elegant filthy whispering, Charlie is a dom, sub reader

“I’d like to conclude our tour with this piece here.” You step backwards and gesture toward the statue in the corner next to you, in true tour guide fashion. “We call this one a seated muse, mainly because it’s a partially nude woman.” A few soft chuckles from your group. “Although we don’t know who exactly crafted her, we do know where exactly she came from. Like many of the other statues we’ve seen today, this is a Roman copy of an ancient Greek sculpture. We think that this muse was part of a larger group of statues depicting a mythical musical contest.” 

You gave this speech at least ten times a week, but you never got tired of it. The statues in this gallery had become like old friends to you as you spent your days telling their stories to eager listeners. Some days you even found yourself just sitting and admiring them, content to be among the spirits of a long ago world. 

“The muses were considered the epitome of natural beauty and the craftsmen that carved these statues took great pains to capture that beauty.” You pause, letting that hang in the room. “Now I’m afraid that’s all I have for you today, but I’ll be in the gallery for a bit longer so feel free to come and ask me any questions that might arise. Of course I can’t guarantee I’ll have an answer, since our lovely muses are so often shrouded in mystery, but hey, I’d love to have a chat. Thank you!” You smile to yourself, pleased to have completed yet another tour, as the group gives you a short round of applause. 

When no one steps forward with questions, you turn fully to the statue as the group disperses, taking a few moments to enjoy her. You’re so caught up in the muse in fact, that the soft voice in your ear startles you. 

“Do you always speak so dramatically or is that just for the tourists?” Charlie bites back a laugh as your face dissolves from surprise to feigned annoyance. 

“Do you always have to sneak up on me when I’m at work?” You retort, rolling your eyes as he places a soft kiss on your cheek. “Wait, were you on the whole tour?” 

This time Charlie can’t stop his laugh as he shakes his head. “Just the last few statues.” He loves how absorbed you could become in your work. And he loves watching you guide wide eyed tourists around the hall of sculptures as you pour your knowledge out to them. 

You nod and turn back to the muse, tilting to your head as you examine her. “What do you think of her?” 

Charlie steps in closer behind you, practically enveloping you against his tall form. He wraps his arms around your middle and leans his head down onto your left shoulder.

“She reminds me of you.” He says quietly. His breath is warm in your ear and the rumble of his soft baritone makes you weak in the knees.

“Really? We look nothing alike!” You try to turn around so you can get Charlie’s damned voice out of your ear, but he tightens his grip on you, sliding his hands down so that one rests on each of your hip bones. 

“You’re not twins, no, but you called her the epitome of natural beauty.” You inadvertently lick your lips as Charlie presses a long slow kiss to the side of your neck. “If that’s not you, then I don’t know what is, babygirl.” 

You inhale sharply to keep from moaning at one of your favorite pet names he has for you. This is so unprofessional, you’re technically on the clock right now. But that had never stopped Charlie before. As you cast your eyes around the gallery, praying silently that none of your coworkers are nearby, you lean fully into Charlie’s body. He’s strong and solid behind you, and you can already feel his quickly hardening length against your ass. You feel wetness start to pool between your legs. 

“They used to worship statues like this right?” Charlie asks at a normal volume, straightening up but still keeping you close to him. For a moment, all you can do is nod because he has brought his hands up to trace lightly along your shoulders and the feeling gives you shivers.

“Sure, many ancient humans used to view sculptures as vessels for the divine.” Speaking about art tends to come naturally to you, but right now you feel your heart pounding in two places. Charlie’s hands are still dancing along your shoulders, gracing over your collarbones. Two can play at this game. You shift subtly.

 Charlie hums slightly at the feel of your ass rubbing against him. His hands trail down from your shoulders along your curves, landing back at your hips. His voice is deadly in your ear, “I’d like to worship your body like a statue.”

You fight back another moan at his words, trying to concentrate on the art in front of you instead of how near to your pelvis his hands are drifting. If anyone were to look closely at you two for more than a second they’d be able to see. You thank whatever fates exist in the universe that you’d chosen today to wear a wrap skirt. Charlie’s hand slips easily through the layered fabric and he rests it on your sex. You pull your blazer around you to further obscure the absolute obscenity you know is about to occur.

“I wish I could take you right here. In front of this statue. You belong here. You’re a work of art.” Charlie breathes into your ear, his whole palm covering your mound in a possessive sort of way. “Touch every inch of your beautiful body while you look at hers. You’re my little masterpiece.”

A sigh escapes your lips and you try to rub against him to create a little friction. To ease your need just a tiny bit. Damn his way with words. 

“Oh, you’d like that?” He teases, “Yeah, beautiful little whore would love for me to touch her right where anybody could see. Well it’s your lucky day, babygirl.” 

And that’s as much warning as you get. In one swift move, Charlie slides your panties to the side and slips a single finger between your folds. You cough in an attempt to stifle the pathetic little mewl that you let out. 

“You’re so wet already, beautiful.” Charlie coos, slowly beginning to pump his finger in and out of you. 

“You have that effect on me.” You gasp as Charlie crooks his finger and stops moving. “Sir.” You add, hoping that’s what he was waiting for. 

It is. He hums in acknowledgement and eases another finger into you. God his hands are so big, just two fingers feels like he’s stretching you. His other hand is delicately trailing the curves of your body, from your hips to your shoulders and back again. You lean as close as you can to his form and slowly reach an arm behind you toward his slacks. His hand moves from your shoulder to your wrist in an instant. 

“Oh no, no, no, beautiful,” He whispers, guiding your arm back to your side. His fingers still pushing in and out of your wetness. “I just want you like this.” He lowers his voice even more to make sure only you hear, “I just want to worship your pretty little cunt like the work of art that it is.” 

That’s it. You melt fully into his touch, feeling your knees start to shake. A quiet “Fuck, Charlie.” slips from your throat as you try to keep yourself upright. The muse is blurring in and out of focus. 

“That’s right, beautiful,” Charlie’s thumb grazes your clit and you bite your lip, your eyes rolling back into your head. “Ah-ah, keep those eyes open, beautiful, we wouldn’t want anyone to get suspicious. Just keep looking at this gorgeous statue.” Somehow you manage to pry your eyelids apart and bring the sculpture back into your field of vision. “That’s a good girl.”

Charlie’s fingers are pumping into you even faster now, and his thumb is lavishing your clit with attention. You can’t believe you’re doing this. You could be fired. You both could probably be arrested. The thought fills you with a dangerous little thrill and you feel yourself smile. Only Charlie could do this to you. 

“Enjoying this, beautiful?” He nips at your earlobe. “I certainly am.”

“Yes, sir, I love your fingers in me.” You murmur almost lazily. “Thank -fuck- thank you, sir.” 

Charlie lets himself smile, since you can’t see his face. You’re sex-drunk over him and he loves it. You can’t even talk about your art while he’s doing this to you. Now that’s an accomplishment. Having you wrapped around his finger, literally. “You’re very welcome, beautiful.” 

You feel yourself clench at his words. You’re getting close, and he knows it. His fingers are plunging deep into you while his thumb vigorously strokes your swollen nub. 

“Ch-Charlie?” Your breathing is coming at faster intervals and you hope you can get your words out. 

“Yes, beautiful?” He’s supporting most of your body weight now with you leaning back into him. 

“Fuck I’m gonna - can I - fuck - please.” Between trying to keep quiet and focusing your gaze straight ahead, you can’t quite form the sentence that he usually requires of you. Charlie’s hot breath tickles your ear as he chuckles slightly. 

“Cum, beautiful,” he purrs, “cum for me now.” 

And you do. You practically explode on his fingers. You clamp a hand over your mouth as you lean your full weight into his hulking form. He shushes you gently, swaying both your bodies a bit to disguise the fact that you’re spasming through your orgasm. To someone standing behind, the two of you might simply be romantically slow dancing. You pant behind your hand, attempting to catch your breath. Your vision is spotty as Charlie eases his fingers out of you and shifts your panties back in place. In an incredibly smooth motion, he wipes his hand on the inside of your skirt as he brings it out. Then there’s a kiss on your cheek, a soft “Come home quick tonight, beautiful.” And he’s striding across the sculpture hall away from you. As if nothing happened. 

---

It’s only when you’re sipping your afternoon coffee in the break room that it hits you. Shit. Shit shit shit shit. 

You forgot to thank him before he left. 

#charlie barber x reader #charlie barber x you #charlie barber/reader #charlie barber/you #charlie barber smut #charlie barber fanfic #e's writing #legit very nervous about posting this i hope someone reads it

[sol-korolevas]

—RED VELVET, part ii of ii

pairing: higgs x reader

warning: mention of death (+) plus i’m still not clear on the whole lore of death stranding so im just...filling it up with headcanons at this point LOL. 

taggins: @apocalytic-seraph, @qtmeryr​

part one: xx

 you see a dark sea and a gray sky surrounding you. not even the bed is beneath you, but a chair and you are sitting on it. sea-salt and death permeate through your senses, flooding your lungs with their smell.

higgs.

he’s laughing, a ghostly shape in the distance. in front of him are four figures, each tied to a chair—the mules. the same mules who took your cargo and left you injured.

try as you might, you couldn’t call out to him, nor can you move your body from the chair. 

every last word is stuck in your throat. and you watch as an oozing pile of tentacles rises from beneath the sea. higgs is talking, but you couldn’t make sense of what he’s saying. then, you watch as he forms a finger gun, pointing it at each of the captives. the monster begins to wrap its tentacles around each mule just as he pretends to shoot. it absorbs the struggling mules into its body with ease. 

you want to scream. 

but no words come out. 

you open your eyes to the ceiling of your room. 

it’s still dark outside and in the vague distance you see shapes walking back and forth. you lean forward, expecting to see a mass of tentacles waiting just beyond. but then there’s a crack in the air behind you just as the lights flicker on and you turn to see higgs, the flesh of his face stark against the dark material of his clothing. 

you exhale a shaky breath and place your bare feet onto the tiled floor 

“did you-did you do it?” your voice was small and hesitant, mind unsure whether or not it wants to hear his answer. you slowly stand, the air growing thick and heavy, as it does whenever higgs is here. 

higgs lowers himself into a mock bow, eyes never leaving yours, with a pleased smile crawling onto his features. “just as you wanted.” 

you place your hand on your face, feeling a sting of pain pricking against your flesh. you can still smell the sea, hear that thing, and—and remember what higgs did. 

that wasn’t a dream. 

“but why? you didn’t have to do that, you could’ve just-you could’ve just beaten them up a little! an eye for an eye!” you feel your body burning, hidden emotions pent up ever since higgs found you and brought you back. with deliberate steps, you walk towards him, hands tightening into fists. “why did you kill them?” 

before you can let more words spill out, higgs reaches out from what little space there is between you and covers your mouth with his hand. he shushes you, eyes searching your own. you don’t like that, you don’t want him to see your weakness through your gaze. he then slips his hand behind your head, cradling it against his hold. 

his demeanor changes and his mouth flicker into a frown. “eye for an eye of course, but this was different—they hurt you, so i had to hurt them back just a little more.” 

for the first time, you feel more anger than guilt. it’s so easy, him just standing there, without a mask or even his hood on. he doesn’t even have the red tank attached to his chest. nothing but what he’s wearing and a kohl-lined face that’s paler than death. 

a small part of you desperately wants to just punch him. but then, as if it was never there, the feeling dissolves. instead, your tears fall for the second time. you’re still hopeless and weak, a nobody in this barren wasteland where the predators are both monsters and humans. 

why are you so pitiful?

“aw don’t cry sweetie, here let me make it better.” higgs cups your cheeks, squeezing them so hard that pain old and new beats underneath your skin. he  pushes your head towards him until you are leaning against his chest, in a fake gesture of comfort that feels more humiliating than anything else. “there’s no need to feel bad, darling, it’s game over for them.” 

you manage to lift your head, attempting to step back, but higgs is quicker as he takes hold of your upper arms. he’s staring down at you, chasing your gaze, holding it until you bring your hands up and cover your face. 

if you can bend reality, if only you are half as gifted as him, then you wouldn’t have to depend on him. you would have a quiet, unassuming life and you would be happy. and yet, you know your contradictions; you know that that’s not what you want anymore. 

you hear higgs hum, hands sliding against your arm until you feel them curl around your wrist. “hey, where’s the [name] that i know?” his voice is soft, like talking to a hurt child. 

he’s tugging your hand back or at least trying to. when you do lower your hands, partially peaking out to look at him, you see a pleased smile spread on his face. 

“there you are, honey. i was so worried that i made you feel even worse than before.” 

finally, you drop your hands to your side, shoulders sagging as the feeling of humiliation settles in. biting your tongue, you push yourself away and turn your back to him.

“in any case, what’s done is done,” you said, crossing your arms against your chest. you let the silence ensue, knowing higgs will chime in when he wants to. but when he doesn’t, you add, “thank you anyway, higgs.” you turn to look over your shoulder, only to feel him pressing against your back. 

“it was my pleasure,” was his response as he skims the tip of his fingers against your naked arm. goosebumps form as higgs drags his fingers down and up, causing the urge to shiver to run down your spine. 

and all it takes is to be by his side.

“what will happen once you achieve everything?” the words slip out before you can hold them back, “wouldn’t there be nothing?” 

you hear him laugh quietly behind you, fingers now carefully holding your arms, keeping your body close to him. “i’m immortal honey, a god, so technically i’ll survive.” 

“then you’ll be alone,” you said, turning around until the back of your legs touches the bed. 

“you’ll follow me,” was higgs’ immediate response, as if it was the most obvious answer. “and then, ya know, we’ll have the best time of our lives.” he finished his sentence with a wink. 

you press your mouth into a thin line, mind going blank. you tell yourself you want to convince him to spare this world. but now, looking at all the death and nothingness already surrounding you, you’re not sure you want to. 

“okay.” 

higgs suddenly reaches out and embraces you, pressing you as close as possible to his chest. you let out a squeak, toes curling as your body is lifted off the ground. 

“this is why i like you out of everyone else, you’re just so easy to get along with!” he’s laughing, in the way that makes your heart hammer and your cheeks heat with warmth. but still, you don’t dare to touch him more than you should. 

it’s that feeling still swirling against the warmth. a dawning realization that you just now figured out. 

you don’t even notice the way you’re clinging onto him, or how higgs doesn’t do anything except smile. 

“darling, are you in love with me?” 

oh. 

----

notes: this was such a hard fic for me to complete. i literally wrote two versions of the same plot before this one ;o; initially i had higgs call reader ‘babygirl’ in the last line but i scrapped that so it would be gender-neutral. 

#higgs x reader #higgs monaghan #death stranding #death stranding higgs #troy baker

[izzy-b-hands]

Cut Scene

Jim/Freddie/ Trans Reader, and something that is unbearably, painfully sweet. You come home from touring with Freddie in the US, with a new haircut done by the hairdresser in your hometown. Unfortunately, she...well. She cut it! Just not well. 

But Jim won’t let you languish like that, and Freddie of course will supervise (aka the three of you are clingy with each other after a tour ends lol.) 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“But she does cut men’s hair, right? You said she does,” Jim tutted and walked around you, hands gently mussing and fussing with your hair.  

“She does,” you laughed. The ‘she’ in question is your usual hairdresser in the States, who you had visited on the latest US tour, just before coming home with Freddie. “Why, is it that bad?”

He winced. “Can I say what I think happened? I think you might already know, but since you haven’t said yourself...”

“Go for it.”

“Because you’re...” he hesitated, and looked over to Freddie with a look that screamed ‘help.’

“You know how she kept asking ‘are you sure you want to look so masculine’, and you kept laughing it off?” Freddie asked bluntly. “That’s what he means. She’s known for years now that you’re transgender, but she’s still trying to cut your hair like she would have before you came out. I wanted to say something the whole appointment, but I know you would have fussed had I spoken up.”

“I just like to keep the peace when I’m at home,” you protested, but they both shook their heads.

“At the cost of your own happiness and comfort,” Jim sighed. “But yes, he’s right. That’s what I mean, exactly. She did cut it short, yes, but she did it in a very feminine way. Look at your sideburns, for pity’s sake! What is this; they’re unkempt, and odd, and I know what you wanted them to look like because you told me when you guys called the night before, so I know you described it to her correctly.”

“Is it fixable?” you asked, fearing you already knew the answer.

“Most things are fixable,” Jim said. “This is...technically fixable? If I try and fix it completely, it’ll end up shorter than you want it. But I can fix some of it now; the sideburns and some of the styling, and the rest we can do once it grows back out some.”

“I really should have waited until we got home and just had you do it,” you muttered. “I was trying to be nice. Felt bad not giving her my business when I know my mum told her I was in town.”

“Your mum,” Jim started, but he stopped as Freddie giggled. “What? I’m not going to say anything that mean.”

“Oh, that means he’s going to be really catty,” Freddie whispered, though you were well aware of that.

“It isn’t catty or bitchy if it’s honest,” Jim said. “I was only going to say that your mother, who is a...”

He stumbled for a moment, and Freddie lost it laughing.

“Shush! She’s...something special, and-”

That’s what sent you over the edge, and you were glad the haircut hadn’t started yet as you folded in on yourself giggling.

Jim laughed too, blushing, as he tried desperately to get through his sentence. “She’s something special, in her own unique way, and maybe, perhaps, she should learn to keep her mouth shut. At certain times, like when you’re in town, because I’m sure you could let people know that on your own without any help.”

“Artfully done,” Freddie said as he got himself back under control.

“Hush,” Jim prompted him over for a kiss, and Freddie winced as he looked at you in the mirror.

“Don’t! It isn’t that bad,” you joked, but truthfully, the conversation confirmed your worst fears about the cut. No wonder people were staring in the airport (though that may also have been because you were with Freddie, but it certainly felt like it was all your hair.)

“It won’t be,” Freddie reassured you, and ran his fingers through your hair. “Oh, look at that. You really are going silver already. Looks nice on you though, and that I do mean sincerely.”

“I thought so too,” you said, and pinched one of the silver hairs in your sideburns. “My poor hairdresser back home though-”

“She wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it,” Freddie interjected. “Y/N dyes his hair anyway simply for fun, and she still kept harping on about it.”

“That’s why I skipped the dye this time,” you admitted. “I got so sick of hearing her go on, that I decided to just leave it as is.”

“We could do that here for you anyway,” Jim said, and leaned over to pull at your sideburns, tsking at the sight of them. “They aren’t even! Let me go get everything we’ll need, and let’s fix this, shall we?”

To call the experience erotic or anything like that wouldn’t be correct; it is his day job after all. But he’s clearly missed you both, and it shows as he worked on you.

His hands were extra gentle as they moved, and when hair did fall onto your face, he removed it carefully, rather than just brushing it quickly away like any other stylist might.

“If I wash your hair for you, you’ll fall asleep on me,” he teased. “Is the jet lag that bad this time?”

He turned to check with Freddie, and you smiled as you looked with him.

Freddie was still upright in his chair at the island (not the most comfortable one, but there were only the options of doing the cut in the kitchen, or in one of the bathrooms) but his eyes were closed, and his head was propped on his hands.

“That’s a yes then,” Jim chuckled as he retrieved a thick dish cloth from a drawer and placed it just so on the counter, so it might catch Freddie should his face slip from his hands.

“I don’t think either of us slept during it,” you admitted. “That’s partially my fault though, otherwise he might have napped.”

“And what did you do?”

“There was turbulence,” you continued. “In my defense. And you know I get nervous with turbulence-”

“Because you worry the plane will fall out of the sky,” Jim said matter-of-factly. He’d flown enough with both of you to know how that experience usually went.

“Right,” you confirmed. “And he offered his hand to hold-”

“And luckily, despite the lack of blood flow over several hours, they didn’t have to amputate,” Jim joked.

“Yeah,” you mumbled sheepishly. “I told him to say if it was hurting or if I was squeezing too hard! He never said!”

“Of course he didn’t,” Jim said as his hands busied themselves again with measuring out your sideburns. “I wouldn’t have said either, you know that. We’d rather have our hands go numb than see you panic during a flight. Same way you end up being a pillow for both of us if you take the middle seat, which you nearly always do.”

“But that’s cute,” you said. “That’s just me getting to watch you two sleep, and then me getting to listen to you both complain of a neck ache as soon as we land.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Is this your way of telling me you needed me with on this tour or something?”

“I know your job doesn’t let you up and leave like that,” you said. “But we did miss you. Next one, you should come out. Even if it’s only for a day or two, however long they can let you be gone.”

“And you promise not to whine and complain when I do have to go back?”

“You know I can’t promise that,” you replied with a playful scoff. “Nor can Freddie.”

Freddie, for his part, was completely out, but you took his occasional snore as a vote in your favor.

“We should put him to bed after this,” Jim whispered. “And yourself.”

“I’m fine,” you protested, and tried to fight off a yawn.

But he could tell, and he smirked as he kept on with your hair. “Really? Because I figured you’d love the idea of bed. We finish your hair, get a bath run for each of you-”

“Oh stop,” you teased, but inside you were melting at his words.

“And then once you’re both clean and comfortable we head into bed and you two can sleep the next day or so away until you feel back to normal,” he continued. “Speaking of...doesn’t that look better?”

You peered in the mirror and smiled. “It does. Thank you for fixing it for me.”

“Of course,” he kissed your cheek and ran a hand through your hair. “I certainly wasn’t going to leave you looking like you were!

He suddenly darted back, and helped catch Freddie’s head just as it slipped off his hands. That was enough to wake Freddie, who didn’t so much as miss a beat.

“Oh! Look at you, that’s so much better!” he smiled, and yawned. “Now-”

“Bed,” Jim interrupted.

“We’re fi-”

“Don’t start,” Jim laughed. “Y/N already tried that, and it didn’t work. You need baths and sleep.”

“We aren’t children,” Freddie muttered, but he made no move to get off his chair until Jim helped him.

“Come over here,” Jim waved you over as you shook the cloth cover around your shoulders out over the sink. “I’ve got two arms; I can get both of you upstairs.”

“You certainly can,” Freddie teased.

“Don’t you two start,” Jim scolded playfully. “You aren’t going to start something only to fall asleep on me before it goes anywhere.”

“What if we promise not to fall asleep?” you asked through a yawn as you joined up with them.

“Yes, because you sound like you could definitely keep that promise,” Jim sighed with a smile. “How about tomorrow instead?”

“You can’t plan passion,” Freddie protested, but his eyes were already shut as Jim helped you both upstairs to the bedroom.

“I don’t think anyone can tell you what you can or can’t do,” Jim chuckled.

“You could,” Freddie murmured. “And Y/N, sometimes.”

“Key word is ‘sometimes’,” you added with a smirk as you let Jim gently push you away and onto the bed.

“I did think we could make use of the extra bathroom down the hall,” Jim sighed, and you could feel his eyes on the two of you as you fought to stay awake. “But if we do that, then one of you is bound to fall asleep in the bath and drown.”

“Potentially,” you muttered.

“One after the other it is then,” Jim said. “I’ll wake you each when the bath is run.”

“We’re awake,” you heard Freddie protest.

“Sure you are,” Jim giggled. “Like I said, I’ll wake you.”

Any protest you had died on your lips as Freddie swung himself over to snuggle close. For now, you could accept that you needed to sleep.

But tomorrow, you had plans to help Freddie show Jim just how grateful and happy you were to have him.

#text post #LeeH writes #queen band fic #jim hutton x freddie mercury x reader

[creator-zee]

207

       Tiera tensed, looking up from the wood she was chopping. Someone had crossed her outer wards, three someone’s. She set the axe aside and quickly turned.

       “Rene, Nyla.” She called out, an edge to her tone. “Someone’s here. Stay inside.”

         They both nodded, before ducking inside. 

        Tiera didn’t bother grabbing any weapons she could handle three people. She flew and landed on the path in front of trio, wings press slightly to intimidate them, before they relaxed as she recognized the intruders, or at least two she recognized.

        “Zughei! What are you doing here?” She asked, pulling the other half-dragon into a hug.

        Zughei chuckled. “I was nearby. Thought I’d stop by for a visit. 

         “Risky coming into a dragon’s territory.” Tiera pointed out.

         “Half-dragon.” Zughei pointed.

         “Also don’t you live in a different country, why are you in the area?” Tier asked, as she led them up the path.

         Zughei shrugged. “Technically we don’t live anywhere. We don’t own a house, but currently our camp and our horses are a little way farther down the mountain. I didn’t want to spook you.”

         Tiera smiled. “Thanks, but go get them. I can handle a few guests for a little bit.”

          Zughei nodded.

          “I got it.” The hooded stranger that Tiera didn’t recognize said.

          “Need a hand?” The one that she did recognize, Fymeh, asked.

          The stranger shook their head. Neither Fymeh or Zughei or her pushed it anymore as she turned and headed back down the path.

         “Who are they?” Tiera asked. “They’re new.”

         “She’s our...” Zughei glanced at Fymeh.

         “Girlfriend.” Fymeh finished. 

         Tiera tilted her head to the side in confusion. 

          “But you are dating Fymeh. Fymeh came first.” Tiera pointed out.

           Zughei nodded. “Yes, and then Nix came. And now we are all dating.”

           “You didn’t get, uh, possessive?” Tiera asked, curious. Zughei was also a half-dragon. Certainly she felt the same protective urges over her mate.

          “Ohhh.” Zughei muttered, understanding Tiera’s confusion. “No, I might’ve if Nix flirted with Fymeh first, but it was me who made the first move.”

          Tiera nodded.

          “Anything new with you?” Zughei asked.

         “I, uh, actually have two, um, gu- girlfriends now.” Tiera admitted, trailing off and growing quiet, still unused to the relatively new development.

         “Wow, okay, do tell.” Zughei said, once she got over her initial conversation.

         “In due time.” Tiera promised. “Let’s get you settled first. 

        Zughei nodded as the campsite came in view.

        “Rene, Nyla.” Tiera called out. “It’s fine, they’re friends.”

        Rene and Nyla exited the house with matching expressions of confusion and shock. “You have friends?”

         Zughei snorted, and Fymeh stifled her own chuckle.

          Tiera just sighed. “Yes, I do. But they live in the other country.”

          “The other country, very specific.” Nyla commented.

          “We don’t live anywhere.” Zughei explained. “We are mercenaries. We travel with our work.”

          “You are also a half-dragon?” Nyla asked, and Rene shushed her.

          But, Zughei just smiled. “Yes I am.”

          The group turned when they heard hoof steps that signaled the arrival of Nix with their stuff.

          “Who’s- ?” Rene began asking.

          “Another friend.” Tiera reassured her.

         Nix came into view leading two horses. 

         “Only two?” Tiera asked.

        “I’m a shapeshifter.” Nix explained. “I have no use for a horse.”

           “A shapeshifter?” Rene balked. 

          Nix nodded as she tied the horse’s lead ropes to their saddles. They wouldn’t go anywhere.

          “Is that strange?” Tiera asked. She was generally unfamiliar with what was normal.

          Rene nodded. “Shapeshifters are extremely rare magical creatures.”

          Nix flinched slightly. “I’m not a creature. I’m just a witch. I was born a human.”

          “You’re a witch?” Rene asked, her shock growing.

          “Ah, right. They are rare here.” Fymeh said, remembering. “The kingdom’s here held witch hunts that led magic to be almost be extinct and the few remaining keep magic hidden or are regarded as strange outsiders.”

            “Oh.” Nix muttered.

            “They aren’t rare where you came from.” Rene asked, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

            Tiera chuckled. “How about you finish interrogating then while I get us some food?”

           “I can hunt.” Nix offered, partially out of kindness and partially because she didn’t want to answer a bunch of questions.

            Tiera glanced at her, sizing her up. It was hard since most of her body was covered, only her arms were exposed. And while they were muscled and scarred and no doubt strong they weren’t a match for Tiera’s own strength, or Zughei’s.

         “You are the guest.” Tiera said uncertainly.

          “You are letting us stay with you.” Nix argued. “Let me get dinner.”

          Tiera was still hesitant. “I’ll be faster.”

           “Not by much.” Nix said.

           “Really?” Tiera asked, surprised and unbelieving.

           “Really.” Nix confirmed. 

           “Sounds like a challenge.” Zughei piped up.

           “It's not a challenge.” Nix said.

           “If it wasn’t before, it is now.” Nyla laughed.

            “Come on there’s lots of us. And extra food never hurt anybody. You both go and make it a race.” Zughei suggested.

             Tiera glanced at Nix who glanced at Tiera. Tiera was certain she could beat the human. She was a half-dragon. Her pride wouldn’t let her back down.

         “I accept.” She said, confidently.

         Nix nodded. “Me too.”

         “Let me just grab my bow.” Tiera said and quickly went to grab it. When she returned she saw gang Nix still had only her dagger and two swords.

          “Do you need to borrow one?” She asked.

         Nix shook her head. “I’m good.”

         Zughei did her best to hide her mischievous glint. No matter how good a hunter Tiera was, she didn’t stand a chance against Nix. 

        Fymeh elbowed her, but spoke up. “It’s not a real challenge without something on the line.”

         She wouldn’t show it, and she knew Nix wouldn’t. But she was eager to see Tiera’s surprised expression after underestimating Nix. She was worried that Zughei’s inability to hide her emotions would allow Tiera to catch on though.

         Nyla immediately latched onto the idea of a wager. “Your right... uh what’s your name?”

         “Fymeh.”

         “It’s not a real challenge without a wager.” Nyla finished.

          “What do you want to bet?” Nix asked.

          Tiera considered, what did she have to bet? She glanced at the cloaked figure.

           “I win, you show me what the hood’s hiding. You take the cloak and mask off.” She challenged.

           Nix nodded, despite Fymeh and Zughei tensing. It spoke levels to her confidence that she would win that she was willing to reveal her face, but Tiera had no idea. Although, Fymeh supposed, it could be that Nix agreed because she was currently shifted into her human form. 

           “And if I win?” Nix prompted.

          “If you win....” Tiera trailed off, thinking. “I don’t know. What do you want?” She asked, drawing a blank. 

          “You’re the host. You decide.” Nix said, not wanting to suggest something that would make Tiera uncomfortable. 

        “What about-“ Rene suggested. “Tiera teaches you some dragon magic.”

        Nix stifled a laugh. “I’m sorry, but a recluse who lives on a mountain by herself may not be the best teacher for a witch.”

        Tiera shrugged. “She does have a point.”

       “I have an idea.” Nyla said.

       “What?” Tiera asked.

       “She wins, you give up something for the night or give her something for the night.” Nyla suggested.

        Nix shrugged. “Sure, I don’t really care.”

        “We can figure out the specifics later.” Zughei said, impatient. “Just go. On the count of three.”

         Nix nodded, and Tiera did the same, tensing getting ready to take off. Nix appeared relaxed from the outside, and inside she was also relaxed she wasn’t too worried.

          “Three... two... one.”

          Tiera took off, not looking behind her, and Nix shifted into a crow before flying off. She flew through the trees before seeing the tracks of a large hooded mammal. She switched forms, dropping into that of a panther, quickly picking up the animals scent and tracking it down. She found it and pounced, shifting midair, drawing her dagger and slashing the unfamiliar mammal’s throat. She shifted into a gryphon, picking up the carcass and flying back to the camp. She dropped it nearby the fire, before shifting back to her human form and landing softly on the ground. 

       The two foreign humans were looking at her with awe.

        Zughei had an uncontrollable grin on her face. “Ha ha. Tiera’s going to be so surprised. But, what did you catch?”

        “I don’t know.” Nix shrugged. “Some sort of Bison-like creature.”

         “It’s a bizeer.” Rene provided. “It’s a large solitary grazing mammal. They are notoriously hard to hunt due to their thick hide and powerful kicks. But somehow you just got up there and slashed its throat.”

         “Their meat is delicious.” Nyla added.

         Rene smiled at her hungry girlfriend. “I’ll start cooking while we wait for Tiera.”

         “I can skin it and butcher it.” Nix offered, already drawing her dagger.

         “Thanks, but I got it. It’s one thing I have learned since fleeing my kingdom.” Rene said, leaning down to skin the animal. Tugging her dagger through its thick hide. 

         Nix nodded, she could respect the girl’s wishes.

         She wiped her dagger off before sheathing it. 

          She turned to see that Fymeh was behind her. 

          “You were really fast.” She complimented. 

          Nix smiled, and blushed slightly at the compliment. “You know that Tiera didn’t really stand a chance. She was overconfident, assuming I’m just a regular human.”

          “Would you really have taken off your cloak?” Fymeh asked as she led Nix over to a log to sit on.

          Nix nodded. “I have nothing to hide, not when I have magic.”

        “What are you going to ask her for?” Zughei asked, sitting on Nix’s other side.

         “Yeah, what’re you going to ask for?” Nyla asked, piping up from across the fire.

          Nix shrugged. “I don’t need anything.”

          ���You’re no fun.” Nyla complained.

          Nix shrugged. “I get that a lot.”

          Zughei laughed, and Fymeh chuckled slightly, but reached for Nix’s hand. 

          Nix accepted her gloves hand, squeezing it lightly. 

          Nix glanced up when she heard wingbeats - Tiera was back.

         Tiera landed, panting slightly and she had a slight sheen from sweat. She was holding a deer. She glanced between the bezeer that Rene was cooking and Nix sitting calmly. Her jaw dropped slightly.

          “How the hell...?” She muttered.

          Zughei didn’t even bother trying to stop her laughter. She burst out laughing and hunched over. 

          Fymeh chuckled slightly.

          “I’m a shapeshifter.” Nix explained.

          Tiera let out a long sigh as she realized her mistake. “Not just a human.”

           Nix nodded. “Nope, a witch.”

           “And a Damn good one.” Zughei said. “Fymeh and I may be clueless about magic, but Nix is insane.”

          “Shut up.” Nix mumbled, glad that her mask hid her blush. “I’m not that good.”

         “She did come back as a gryphon.” Nyla provided. 

          “A gryphon? What else can you do?” Tiera asked, curious and a bit excited.

          Nix huffed. “I’m not a jester. It’s not just a show.”

          “Come on Nix, humor them.” Zughei urged. 

          Nix sighed. “Fine. I can do any shape. But, it’s easier if I can see it, at least a picture, and if I’ve done it before it’s easier.”

          “If you hadn’t shapeshifted, would I have won?” Tiera asked, as she sat down after setting the deer aside and her bow and quiver as well. 

         Nix nodded. “Without a doubt. I wouldn’t have been able to fly. And I’m not a great shot.”

          “How did you kill it?” Tiera asked. 

          “With a dagger.” Nix answered. 

          “With. A. Dagger?” Tiera repeated slowly in disbelief.

           Nix nodded. 

          “Can we spar?” She asked suddenly.

          Nix stares at her slightly shocked, so did everyone else.

          Zughei was the first to respond. “Wow, I’m hurt. You normally spar with me when I visit.”

        “Yeah, but you didn’t used to visit with apparently an insanely skilled human. How did you manage to snag her anyways?” Tiera asked, before turning to Nix. “Why are you with these two idiots?”

         “Hey!” Zughei said offended. “We are not idiots. Fymeh is very smart. Although I may sometimes be an idiot, I have my uses.”

         Tiera laughed. “I know. Doesn’t change the fact that I want to know just how good Nix is.”

          “I don’t feel like that’s a fair fight though.” Nyla piped up. “You’re a little bigger and stronger than her.”

           “I can level the playing field.” Nix said nonchalantly. “Just loan me some clothes.”

         “Clothes?” Tiera asked.

         “My clothes don’t shapeshift.” Nix explained. 

          “You’re going to fight as a half-dragon?” Tiera asked.

          Nix nodded. “If you're concerned about a level playing-field.”

         “I want in too then.” Zughei said.

         “We’ll have to veto magic then.” Nix said. 

         “You can’t use magic?” Tiera asked over her shoulder as she went inside to grab clothes.

          Zughei shook her head. “No one ever taught me. And Nix is a horrible teacher.”

        Nix shrugged. “I was raised as a witch. I don’t know what to say.”

       Tiera reappeared with pants and a chest wrap and a pair of boots.

       “I’m just going to slip inside to change.” Nix muttered, slipping inside.

        “I do want to spare just you though.” Tiera called after her. “At some point. No shapeshifting.”

         “I can do that.” Nix called back through the woods, before reappearing. 

         Zughei gasped slightly. “Damn.”

        Nix scowled, as she set her swords by a log, before drawing them. 

         “Blue wings?” Tiera asked. 

          Nix shrugged, spreading them slightly. 

          “Aren’t you at a disadvantage still?” Tiera asked, as she grabbed a couple of swords for herself. “Since it’s not your normal body.”

          “I’ll adapt.” Nix assured her. 

          “Fine.” Tiera relented, squaring up. 

          Zughei, settles back down on a log to watch. “I’ll spar the winner.”

          “You’ll be sparring Tiera then.” Nyla said confidently. 

          Zughei just shrugged. She would let Nix’s skill speak for itself. Although she was doubtful at first, as Tiera struck first and seemed to have the advantage. Nix seemed to be doing worse than Zughei knew she was capable of. She was a bit sloppy, almost rusty. 

        Then suddenly, like a switch went off in her head. She knocked Tiera’s blades aside with unexpected force and with only one sword while bringing the other one around. Zughei realized, ad the others did as well, that Nix had just grown comfortable in this form. 

        Tiera was heavily on the defensive, and soon found that she could barely keep up with the flurry of attacks Nix sent her way. She was used to overconfident knights that weren’t this skilled. She was also used to using magic. 

        She had assumed Nix, being a witch would also be used to using magic, but she didn’t seem to be having any problems. 

        She ended up with her arms spread wide, pressing against Nix’s attacks. She certainly wasn’t used to facing someone as strong as her. 

        She huffed as Nix’s foot landed on her exposed chest. She stumbled back, and Nix quickly pressed her advantage until Tiera was backed up against the cliff. Pretty soon she found a blade at her throat. 

       She looked up and met Nix’s eyes and saw that she was panting from the effort. 

       Nix stepped back, releasing her. 

       “Who taught you to fight?” Tiera asked, impressed. 

       “A few instructors, but mainly experience. I’ve been with Fy and Zug for a year or so, but before that I was on my own.” Nix explained. 

        Zughei stepped forwards eagerly. “My turn.”

        Nix grinned. She loved sparring with Zughei. 

        Fymeh sighed glancing at Rene and Nyla. She saw that both had their eyes fixed on the sparring half-dragon and shapeshifter. 

         “Not watching?” Tiera asked, as she glanced over while getting a drink. 

         “I’m watching. I’ve just seen them spar dozens of times. and it’s not the same when Nix isn’t in her real form. It doesn’t feel like her.” Fy explained, eyes trailing over Nix’s form that wasn’t really Nix’s. 

        “Is it hard?” Tiera asked. “Dating a shapeshifter.”

         Fymeh shook her head. “No, she’s comfortable enough around us to generally stay in her true form.”

         “I’d imagine it could be quite fun.” Nyla butted into the conversation. 

         “Nyla.” Rene admonished.

         Fymeh blushed as she got what Nyla was referring to. She was grateful her face was covered. 

         “Must you be so crass?”

Tiera muttered. 

          Nyla shrugged. 

          Fymeh turned back to watching the spar. Surprised at Zughei seemed to have the advantage. She supposed Nix had already fought and they were generally pretty evenly matched. 

          She realized at about the same time as Zughei though that it had been a ploy as Nix trucked Zughei into taking a risky lunge. Nix easily spun out of the way as Zughei stumbled past her. Nix shoved Zughei down, befor punching in her back, a sword to her neck and the other pressed between her wings, against her scales. 

          Nix climbed off and let Zughei get up. Nix was enveloped with magic as she shifted back to her human form. 

         Tiera wondered idly where her clothes went, but chalked it up to magic. 

         Nix returned to the fire closely followed by Zughei and sheathed her swords before strapping them back on. 

        “You can wait for your rematch until after dinner.” Rene said, sending a pointed look at Tiera. 

        “For now.” Tiera said, as she grabbed bowls. “Story time. How’d you meet Nix and convince her to join you? Somehow I doubt she needed the help.”

        Nix sighed. “That’s actually exactly why we met and why I stayed. Someone jumped me in an alley. They managed to land a grazing blow with a poisoned dagger. I stumbled into a tavern, but then got kicked out because the owner knew me from the academy. These two saw and helped me out. To repay them I helped them out for a while, and I haven’t left.”

        “The academy?” Rene asked, as she served the stew.

         “A school for learning magic and fighting.” Nix explained. “I went as a teen, before taking to a life in the wilds as a mercenary. City life wasn’t for me.”

         Rene nodded. “City life didn’t work for me either.”

         “Your father was a dick.” Nyla cut in between bites. 

         “Some parents suck.” Fymeh agreed. 

         “So, I suppose I owe you something.” Tiera said, breaking a brief silence that had fallen.

         Nix shrugged. “I don’t need anything.”

          “Come on, a deal’s a deal. Just let me think of something.” Tiera said.

          “You already gave me clothes.” Nix said.  “Just count that.”

          “Fine.” Tiera relented.

         “How did you three get together?” Zughei asked, as Rene finished passing out food.

          “Rene came up here, half-dead asking me to kidnap her, and Nyla came and tried to rescue her.” Tiera explained.

         “Ah, yes the normal way to get together.” Zughei commented, sarcastically.

         “It’s better than an arranged marriage.” Rene said softly.

        “The normal way is not all it’s chalked up to be.” Nix added, muttering.

        Zughei and Fymeh gave her matching looks of confusion.

        “Since when did you date the normal way?” Zughei asked.

        “Nicole.” Nix said, hesitant, hating even saying the name, as if it would summon her. 

         “Oh.” Zughei muttered.

         A silence fell over the group.

         Nyla broke it. “Okay, I know this is probably overstepping bounds off whatever, but what’s it like sleeping with a shapeshifter?” She asked, with no fear. 

        Nix balked, setting her bowl down and just standing and leaving. She was not going there.

        “Nyla.” Rene and Tiera hissed, scolding. “Why?”

         Nyla shrugged. “Curiosity.”

         Zughei glared at Nyla while Fymeh’s expression was unreadable.

         “Do you know how to fight?” Zughei growled, asking Nyla.

         Nyla shook her head, startled. “No, why?”

        “Urgh.” Zughei grunted. “I don’t want to actually beat you into a pulp, but I do.”

        Nyla flinched away from the angry half-dragon.

        “It was just a question.” She defended weakly.

        “A completely inappropriate question.” Rene scolded.

        “Why don’t you go work on preparing the deer to dry?” Tiera suggested. “Before Zughei rips your head off.”

        Nyla nodded, hefting the deer up with some struggle and disappearing to a different part of the mountain.

        “Sorry.” Zughei mumbled half-heartedly. “It’s just-“

         “I get it.” Tiera reassured her. “Nyla was out of line. Will Nix be okay?”

         “Yeah.” Fymeh nodded. “We just - we don’t - she’ll be fine.”

          “We have to deal with enough people thinking I want to get laid.” Zughei explained. “Nix still isn’t used to it, having done solo work for so long.”

        “That and Nyla isn’t the first one to have that train of that.” Nix cut in, having returned seeing that Nyla was gone. “I just grow tired of it. Shapeshifting isn’t some party trick or some kink to me.”

         “What is it to you then?” Rene asked, hesitant, but curious.

          “An escape.” Nix answered, and the others got a feeling that she wouldn’t elaborate. 

#dragon #shapeshifter #magic #bets #writing #anime cat #anime cat with friends #not edited

[thedailyimagines]

Imagine the Mikaelson’s rescue you, not knowing that you’re a banshee.

For an anon, sorry again that my box deleted your request!: The Mikaelson family and fem!banshee reader. Reader is able to kill an Original, causing them to be kidnapped by the witches and tortured to become a weapon against the Mikaelsons. They are rescued and thought to be human, until the reader is forced to use their powers.

.

Reader is meant as a teenager, but it could be read as older.

.

Warning: torture, slight gore/blood (not a lot but it’s there), death, violence, and abuse (I think it counts but I’m not 100% sure so warning just in case).

~~~~~~~~

Y/n was just going to come out and say it; witches could be bitches when they really wanted something.

Not that she had anything against them, in fact she knew a good lot of them that were downright sweet. But like any good thing there was a bad side. In this case it happened to be a crazy witch coven that kidnapped, gagged, and blindfolded y/n, then locked her in a dark room that smelled like damp earth.

Today had started off like any other day for y/n; wake up, get moving on the road, maybe catch a free meal somewhere, and keep moving. Y/n had been a runaway ever since her parents had died in a house fire, and she refused to live with her godparents. Maybe once upon a time they would have been good parents, but time and a lifetime of mistakes had warped them into some not so pleasant people.

So she had packed a small bag and ran, no idea where she was headed or what she was going to do. Now she was in New Orleans, with no money and chained up by her wrists in someone’s basement.

Speak of the devil—The door to the basement opened, and y/n heard several people come down the rickety stairs. All she could hear was hushed whispering.

The first hit came as a surprise and caused her to scream loudly, barely muffled by the gag in her mouth. Blow after blow rained down on her back, tearing the back of y/n’s shirt and cutting her skin. Eventually the torture stopped, and a hand gripped y/n’s chin and ungagged her mouth.

The cool blade of a knife pressed against her throat. “Scream, and I will make sure no noise comes from your throat ever again.” Y/n could tell that however was holding the blade to her throat meant business by the tone of their voice. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if she did something they didn’t like.

“What do you want?”

“Don’t play dumb. We know what you are, banshee.” That wasn’t good. Only one person in the world knew about y/n being a banshee, and they were technically dead.

“So what? I don’t have anything for you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You see, you have a unique ability; you can kill an Original.” The room was silent, and y/n wasn’t sure if she should pretend to act important or if she should say something. She went with option two.

“...Am I supposed to know what that is?”

The leader sighed and began to explain. “The Originals were the first vampires ever created. Not only that, but they’re keeping all the witches of New Orleans under their thumbs.”

Another voice jumped into the conversation. “They’re also a bunch of self righteous bastards.” There were several shushing noises from around the room, and the leader began speaking again.

“How much pain you go through before you work with us is up to you little one. I’ll ask you nicely now; will you help us?” Y/n took a few seconds to consider the question in her head before teenage rebellion took over common sense.

“Fuck you.”

“I see. Gag her again.” The gag went back into y/n’s mouth, and there was a moments pause before the flogging started again. Y/n twisted and writhed in pain, trying to escape from the hard blows tearing into her skin. Several times the whipping would stop, and the leader would ask her if she was ready to work with them.

Finally the ringleader became annoyed at the constant denial. “Harder. Teach the brat a lesson in defying me.” Whoever was beating y/n obeyed. Y/n’s screaming cracked, her throat dry and sore from overuse. Her eyes became half-lidded and began to close.

The last thing y/n heard was a loud crash and screaming.

<—>

When y/n woke up, she was in a rather lavish bedroom with the sun streaming in through the partially open window. That was strange enough, but there was also a toddler sitting on the bed beside her. Y/n locked eyes with the child, wondering if she had finally gone mad.

A voice interrupted the staring contest that y/n was having with the child. “Glad to see you’re awake.” The owner of the voice was standing in the doorway of what appeared to be a connected bathroom. She was a rather pretty woman with blonde hair.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Rebekah. And this little cutie,” Rebekah tickled the toddler on the stomach, causing them to giggle “Is Hope. Why don’t you tell me your name?” Y/n debated in her head whether to give the lady her real name, then decided to. If Rebekah really wanted to hurt her then y/n probably wouldn’t have been in such a nice room or left with a small child.

“It’s y/n.”

“Just y/n?”

“Just y/n.”

Rebekah smiled in amusement. “Alright then, ‘Just y/n’. How are you feeling? You took quite the beating.”

“In all honesty , I feel like I got hit with a truck.” This drew a laugh from the older woman.

“I see. Do you think you can walk around? The rest of the family wants to meet with you.” Y/n nodded her head. She didn’t feel completely like an overused punching bag, but she certainly wouldn’t be running any marathons any time soon. Besides she was curious about who the ‘rest of the family’ was.

“I think so.”

“Good. Up you get.” The blonde woman picked up Hope and stood to let y/n off the bed, close enough to catch her if y/n began to fall. Y/n managed to stand up without falling, wobbling just a little. Rebekah guided her outside of the room, steering her towards a room with a large dining table.

Inside the room were four men, all watching as the three females walked into the room. The dark skinned male smiled at Rebekah, who sat y/n down in a chair and then took a seat for herself. Hope was trying to wriggle her way to a man with dark blond hair.

“Everyone, this is y/n. Y/n, these are my brothers Elijah, Kol, and Klaus. And this is Marcel.” Each man nodded or gave a small wave at the sound of their name. Klaus took Hope in his arms and began speaking to y/n.

“Well! Now that we have a chance to talk with you, we want to know a few things. Namely why a group of witches were using you as torture practice.” Y/n knew she’d have to be careful about what she said. She didn’t want everyone to know she was a banshee just yet.

“They wanted my help with something.”

Elijah leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him. “Which was?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know...something about killing someone?” Kol rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed sigh. Marcel glared at him, then turned to y/n and spoke with a gentle tone.

“Did they mention any names?” Y/n could tell that he was trying to be nice and avoid stressing her out, which she appreciated.

“Not that I can remember.” Which was technically true. The witches hadn’t called anyone by name.

Klaus was about to speak when he was cut off with a loud crash of breaking glass. Everyone ducked to avoid the shards, and Kol took a look out the broken window.

He cursed and ducked as a chunk of earth flew at the space his head had been. “Witches. I told you we should have rounded up the stragglers!”

Elijah grabbed a chair and broke of the legs, giving himself makeshift clubs. “Argue later, we’re in the middle of a situation!” Him and Kol rushes out to meet the intruders while Klaus handed Hope to Rebekah.

“Rebekah, Marcel, take y/n and Hope somewhere safe!” The two vampires jumped into action, Rebekah took Hope while Marcel helped y/n up out off the ground.

“Come on you two, let’s get moving.” The four moved towards the back of the house, slipping out the back door. They were halfway across the back yard when an invisible brute force sent Marcel flying.

“Marcel!” Rebekah rushed over to the fallen vampire, Hope still in her arms and beginning to let out aggravated sobs.

The caster of the spell stepped forward, a cold grin across her face. “Hello again little brat. How about you come with us and nobody gets hurt?” It was the owner of the voice in the basement, the one y/n had deemed the leader of the group.

Y/n raised her hands up, trying to keep the witch focused on her. “Don’t hurt them, please. They haven’t done anything to you.”

“Oh my darling girl, you have no idea what they can do, what they have done. Now come with me.”

“I’m not going with you. I’m leaving, you won’t see me again and you don’t need to hurt anybody.” The lead witch shook her head.

“Not what I wanted to hear.” She raised a hand to cast another spell, and y/n decided in that moment to scream.

A scream louder than any human could ever hope to produce ripped its way out of y/n’s throat. Marcel and Rebekah covered their and Hope’s ears, not directly in the way of the scream but still close enough to catch some of the volume behind it.

The lead witch wasn’t so lucky. She caught the full force of the scream. After only a few moments she began to scream too, the sound lost under the noise of the banshee scream. The blood vessels in her eyes began to pop, the blood dripping down like macabre mascara. The witch collapsed to the ground, all life gone from her body.

It took y/n several seconds to end her scream, falling to her knees from the sudden lightheaded feeling. A hand grabbed her shoulder, and she heard several voices yelling all at once. Y/n wasn’t focused on what they were saying; she felt exhausted and sick, all the yelling was making her head hurt, and the world around her seemed to be spinning.

For the second time in two days, y/n fainted.

~~~~~~~~

I don’t own the above gifs, all credits go to the owners.

#thedailyimagines #imagine #female reader #banshee!reader #supernatural!reader #teen!reader #the originals imagine #the originals #elijah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #marcel gerard #hope mikaelson #long fic #baby hope mikaelson #tw: death #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: torture #tw: gore #tw: whipping #tw: abuse #i’m not sure if it’s really abuse #tagging just in case

[tzds-gt]

Happy Birthday

A late birthday post for the Host, my boi, taking place in @askthelittleassistant‘s AU!

~

It’s a week before the big day when King sneaks out of the Host’s room.

She’s brought her laptop with her. She needs to get to the Googles’ lab. She isn’t sure how to get there.

She also isn’t sure of how she’s going to bring her gift back. But the Googles aren’t exactly chatterboxes, so it’s easy to assume Host won’t find out from them.

When she comes across the lab, it’s nearing 5. Blue is the only one not on a charger. He’s curious about King’s early appearance.

“I heard that y’all had a giant 3D printer in here.?” She explains. “I need your help with that.”

After another hour or so, Google sets King in front of the Host’s bedroom door. They review contact information, and King bids him “good-something. I mean it is morning but I’m going back to sleep, otherwise Host’ll get suspicious.”

She’s glad to see that Host is still fast asleep. So she curls up against his throat and falls asleep, hoping that nothing goes wrong on the Googles’ end.

However, for the rest of the week, she keeps forgetting she’s already done this whenever she wakes up. ~

The Host dreads today.

It is his birthday, technically- though, the sun isn’t rising for a while. He should be celebrating today, and yet, all he can bring himself to think of is his past self. He was born as the Author- and he abused his powers. Now he’s suffering the consequences.

The events between the Author and the Host are a blur to him; too many alternate timelines and theories a jumble of could-be memories in his mind. There is only the Author and the Host, and a mess in between.

A slight pressure against his lip brings him out of his thoughts, and the Host can feel the outline of King’s face nuzzling against his skin. The narrations of his mind tell him that she’s fast asleep, and dreaming of something that needs to be done. He’s spared the details, though he wishes he wasn’t. He needs something to keep his mind distracted. King’s sleeping troubles over the last week would certainly count.

As if he willed it, King stirs, hugging his chin loosely. “You’re awake early.” She murmurs softly, while moving away from his face.

He can sense she’s rather embarrassed of how she was cuddling him, though he doesn’t see why. He enjoys it when she leans against his lips- that’s the only time he can ‘see’ her face clearly. “Did the Host wake you?” He asks in a whisper. He places a hand near her, and she moves under it.

“Nah, I just kinda woke up.” She responds. “What time is it, anyway?”

The Host’s internal narrative supplies the answer. “It is 2 in the morning.”

King thinks for a moment. “Ew. Nobody deserves to be awake this early. Especially you.”

“The Host believes King is the one who doesn’t ‘deserve to be awake this early,’ as she put it.” He responds.

King giggles. “Then let’s both go back to sleep, and we’ll wake up at a less stupid time.”

The Host wishes he could sleep through today. Tomorrow could be considered a less stupid time. “The Host agrees, moving King back toward his face so she and the Host can get comfortable again.”

She curls against his neck, pulling part of the covers over herself. The Host lays his hand over her again, and she’s knocked out within minutes. He wonders if she knows. He almost prefers that she doesn’t, but he knows that that would be unfair to her.

Slowly, the Host relaxes as well, and he somehow falls asleep with her.

~

The Host wakes again at seven, and hopes he has somehow slept through the day. He has no such luck. But to his surprise, King is already awake. He can hear her giggling at something.

“Mornin’ Hosty Boi.” She smiles.

He has to chuckle at the nickname. “The Host wishes King a good morning as well, asking how long she has been awake?”

“Not long. Did you sleep well?”

“The Host doesn’t want to wake up just yet.” It’s true, he thinks.

King reaches up and taps his chin. “I feel you, but we gotta. Otherwise someone’s bound to notice, and I don’t think either of us need that kind of attention.”

The Host would prefer that he gets no attention today, but somehow, he doesn’t mind King’s presence. So he gets up, bringing her to the kitchen so they can both eat something. The Host makes some coffee, and King makes herself some tea for the morning.

As the two make their way to the library, Doc nods to the Host. “Happy Birthday.” He says quietly.

“Thank you, Doctor.” The Host murmurs back. He’s okay with this small attention as well, because Doc doesn’t press the matter.

King tugs on his bandages as he starts to unlock the door. “It’s open already. And the light’s already on.”

Google Blue and Google Green step out, nodding at King. “It turned out rather nicely.” Green says.

“We put it on the desk.” Blue adds.

The Host tilts his head toward King. “‘It’, he asks curiously?”

The Googles start to answer, but King shushes both of them. She shuffles in her place on the Host’s shoulder. “Come on! I haven’t even seen it yet!”

The Host partially dreads that King has gotten him a birthday present, and yet curiosity overtakes him. When he reaches his desk, he hears King gasp- and when he places his hand on the desk, he understands why.

His fingers hit a ridge, which he feels along until he realizes the pattern under his fingers form a three-dimensional model of his own smiling face. He can tell this is him from about the waist up; in the model’s hands- smiling, as always, is King. When he feels the background, he realizes that he knows where and when this picture was taken.

“The Host would like to guess that this model came from the photo from the aquarium we went to for King’s birthday.” He says, and King squeals in happiness.

“Yep! You mentioned that you really enjoyed that visit, and that you wished you could see the picture we got as a souvenir, because I kept going on about how lovely of a shot it was, so…. I had the Googles use their big 3D printer to print a version that you could see.” She explains, climbing down to feel for herself.

The Host smiles. “The Host is utterly stunned by King’s gift, declaring that he loves it.” His finger catches a shape like a shark in the background of the photo, and he smiles. He couldn’t see into the tanks, but King had been so happy when he brought her. He’d gotten an audio tour for the informational aspect, and when that ended, King began describing the fish to him and giving them personalities. They’d both had a great time that day.

And maybe, the host could have a great time today, too.

“Would King care to accompany the Host to the common room kitchen? He believes she could be of great help in whipping up a special birthday snack.”

King grinned. “Alright! If it’s cake, I call dibs on the leftover icing!”

#have some fluff you gt host peeps #yes I know it's Jack's birthday but shhhhhhh #the little assistant #tla #tla the host #gthostfanclub #gtmarkfanclub #gt youtubers #gt writing #my writing