#suffice to say bad things happen at the club that night she ends up in hospital | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cafeacademia · 3 years

Text

His Favourite Gal | Part 1

Mob!Bucky x Shy!Reader

Summary: You begin working as a waitress at Bucky Barnes’ favourite club in town. Little do you realise that working on mob territory owned by the infamous King of New York, Bucky Barnes, comes with its quirks and you’re slowly pulled into the mobster life.

Warnings: Fluff, some mentions of drunk people, mentions of crimes (though nothing happens, it’s just mentioned).

Word count: Approx 3700

Navigation

A/N: Hi loves!! This is a remaster of my own original fan fiction that I’ve decided to take from my old blog and (hopefully) improve. I’ve been slowly remastering fics that I am particularly attached to and I worked quite a lot to get this one overhauled and rewritten!! There’s actually very little of the original writing left, it was interesting to see how different my style is now compared to three years ago! This was also my first ever series I’d ever written on my old blog, so aside from the fact that I love the story, it’s special to me in that regard. Enjoy! 💕

If you’d like to join my taglist, you can do so using my taglist form HERE

It was raining when you finally finished your shift three hours later than when you were supposed to be off for the night. It was tiring working for the dingy old bar, it looked just as sad on the outside as it did on the inside, the old brick discoloured, old panelling slowly peeling off the sides of the building. It was a wreck and so was your boss too. He couldn’t have cared less if you worked yourself down to the bone, as long as he had staff doing a job, he didn’t care.

“I’m expecting you tomorrow, we’re opening early.” He had told you on your way out and it took everything in your willpower not to groan and roll your eyes and tell him so eloquently to fuck off. It was almost a relief when you heard the heavy metal door slam behind you as you stepped out of the back entrance. The air was just as bad. It was thick with smog and cigarette smoke and something pungent, an overflowing bin or perhaps an unfortunate street animal, you thought.

You were glad when it began to rain harder. At least it seemed to make most of the drunkards along the main strip try to find shelter instead of bothering you on your walk home.

Pulling your jacket hood up, you stepped down from the doorway and made your way out of the alleyway and onto the back street. It was never good to walk home alone, especially at night and especially in the part of New York you lived and worked in. It was on the edge of mobster territory and while Bucky Barnes, the King of New York owned it, it didn’t mean it was safe at all. It was quite the opposite, the district was prone to all levels of crime, from pickpocketing all the way up to armed robberies, arson and shootings.

But, you realised as you walked up the street, spotting a group of drunk men up ahead, drink men with rifles too, that never ended well, that perhaps mobster territory might not be a bad idea, especially when there were people working for Barnes along the entire street and they were known to keep the peace.

You heard the casino before you saw it, but as you rounded the corner you saw the lights, the late night rain distorting some of the huge party lights that lit up the sky above the building. Stark’s was not the most prestigious club in town, but it was the most respected and most feared. And funnily enough, for a place called Stark’s, the billionaire did not own his own named club. As far as you remembered, you’d seen it in the papers a few years ago that Barnes had won it off Stark in a game of poker. You’d never know if that was really true, but it definitely seemed plausible.

As you passed the casino, you glanced over towards the dark tinted windows, watching as people came and went, mostly men in suits. But you noticed a sign from across the road that was taped onto one of the windows, huge bold letters making you stop in your tracks for a moment.

Waiting staff needed. And you stared at it for a moment, contemplating. You… A bar waitress, surely it was not wise for you to sign up to work in mobster territory. That would definitely land you in more dangerous places than you were already in.

But the longer you stood there and thought about it, you began to wonder if it was actually a good idea. You could at least try, what did you have to lose? And before you could even come to a full decision, it was as it was made for you, because a group of rowdy men walked towards you and you immediately took the decision to cross the road, putting you right in front of the casino.

How bad could it be? The worst that could happen was that you just had to return back around the corner to your miserable little bar job. So, with a sigh, you grabbed the flyer and walked towards the entrance.

The bouncer was huge and intimidating. Of course, you had expected as much with the club having the notoriety that it did. It wasn’t long before you were allowed to enter, the bouncer telling you, “speak to Natasha at the bar”, and as you headed through into the casino, you assumed the absolutely stunning woman behind the bar right ahead of you was Natasha.

The club was bustling with people, though it was not as stuffy and loud on the inside as you had expected it to be. There was a clear divide between people dining and drinking at tables around the bar and the casino side of the club which appeared to be behind a velvet rope and deep burgundy red curtains at either side of the bar. It was far more high end than you had expected, seeing as the outside of Stark’s resembled a kind of fancy nightclub, but you supposed the King of New York did happen to own it.

“Are you here about the job?” The woman at the bar asked as you approached her. You wondered if it was your very casual clothing in such a formal setting that gave you away or the flyer in your hand. Either way, you suddenly felt very intimidated and very underprepared. Perhaps this had been a bad idea. You were a girl dressed in the dregs of your wardrobe while trying to get a job in the most respected club in the entire city. Not likely.

“I saw the advertisement outside, I hope that’s alright.” You said as you lifted the flyer in your hand and she held out her hand to take it from you. “Are you sure? We haven’t had many applicants because of certain activities.” She told you, but you knew what she meant, it was obvious. This part of town, even outside of mobster territory was swimming in crime. “I’ve got nothing to lose.” You replied. And it was true, you did have nothing to lose. No family, no responsibilities outside of your current job, which this would replace, no children, no pets, no side hustles. Nothing. And that probably made you a good candidate.

The woman smiled at you, her lips curving up into a smirk as she took a moment to look you over before she extended her hand across the counter. “Natasha.” She introduced herself, smiling as you shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.” You mirrored her smile and gave her your name before she let go of you. “Let me just get someone on the bar and we’ll talk.” She told you.

And moments later, you were following Natasha through the casino, passing by all of the business men, mafia family members and rich men and women who were chancing it at gambling games. Suffice to say, you felt even more out of place than you had done just moments beforehand.

“Where do you work right now?” Natasha asked as she let you pass her into an office near the back of the building. “I work in an old bar just around the corner called The Rabid Dog.” It was not a pleasant name, it always made you cringe whenever you had to tell people where you worked and you didn’t fail to notice the way that Natasha seemed amused by the name of the bar too.

“So you’ve done bar work? What about waitressing?” She asked as she gestured for you to sit down on one of the chairs in front of the desk. Natasha didn’t sit behind the desk, instead she just dropped down into the chair next to yours and rested one leg over the other as if she was having a casual conversation with a friend. “My bar serves food, so I do it on a regular basis and I also used to work in a restaurant a few years ago.” You explained, but before either of you could say anything else, the door swung open and you nearly fell out of your chair.

“Who’s this?” Bucky Barnes, the King of New York himself asked as he walked through the doorway. What had you walked into? You knew he owned the club, but you’d never expected to actually meet Barnes. “This is our new waitress.” Natasha said proudly as she stood. You knew better than to interrupt, but you gathered that someone must have noticed the look of confusion on your face because just as a second man entered the room, he said, “Does our new waitress know she’s the new waitress?” The second man asked. He was blonde, just as tall and muscular as Barnes, though he looked at you with less of a poker face and more of an amused smirk.

“Really? You just hired her like that?” Mr Barnes asked as he approached you. “I like her.” Natasha countered, both men giving her pointed looks, though Mr Barnes raised his brows and nodded before turning back towards you. “She likes you.” He repeated what Natasha had said. You couldn’t help but send Natasha a questioning glance. She had just met you minutes ago and she’d already analysed you enough to know that she liked you and you wondered if Natasha was much more than just a bar girl.

“Have you done waitressing before?” Barnes asked. “I just asked her that.” Natasha huffed. “Yes sir, waitressing and bar work.” You responded. “And do you have any family?” He asked next. “No sir, none at all.” You replied. “And you know this isn’t the type of job cut out for ordinary people, right? This club sees a lot of things.” Mr Barnes went on. “I do, sir.” You nodded.

“Buck, maybe we should consider-.” But Mr Barnes casually held up his hand to silence his friend. “You’re hired.” He announced, the entire room falling silent and all you could do was stare at Barnes for a moment, stunned that he had just hired you right there on the spot. “I am?” It came out a little more hushed than you had intended, Bucky nodding as he smirked at you. “Whatever your pay is at your old job, I’ll pay at least double, more if it’s not enough. Natasha will contact your old boss and get you ready for your first day.” And with that, Bucky Barnes and his friend left the room and Natasha looked over at you, watching as the astonishment slowly dissipated.

“I’ll let you know when you start work.” Natasha broke the silence and you glanced over at her. “Just like that?” You asked, still surprised. “Just like that.” She responded. “Don’t worry, Barnes wouldn’t keep me around if I wasn’t a good judge of character.” She winked at you and you wondered again if she was something more than just a bar girl.

The job, you realised after your first couple of days working at the club, was far more interesting and a lot more rewarding than your previous job at the old bar. The club was a scene for all kinds of happenings and while nothing nefarious really went on, especially under Bucky Barnes’ nose, you did overhear an awful lot of conversation.

You learned as well in those first few days, that while this was not where Mr Barnes resided, he used the club as a place to carry out some of his business meetings and discussions as well as a place to relax.

Barely a week into your new job, you were getting ready for your shift in the little back room. Lockers lined the walls with a mirror at the side of the door and comfortable benches in the middle of the room. Dressed in a simple, but pretty black dress, you tied the strings of your little demi apron at the back, though you paused, a little startled when the door was abruptly pushed open and Natasha stepped in.

“Barnes needs you.” Nat announced with urgency and you frowned at her. “He does?” You asked. “He needs someone to waitress him and the family tonight, he’s asking for you.” She informed you. “I thought-.” “Yes, I know normally we have security taking orders to the waitresses, but he’s personally asking for you to waitress them tonight.” Nat told you and you paused with a slight air of confusion about you. “Alright, I’ll waitress Mr Barnes then.” You nodded, quickly fumbling with the ties of your apron before you shoved your jacket a bit more firmly into the back of the locker and shut it properly, letting Natasha walk you through the club towards the private dining space they were occupying.

Nat rushed you into the room and closed the door behind you, leaving you to stand rather flustered in front of a cosy looking dining room with a round table in the middle. Bucky was sat at the furthest end of the room, his chair seeming to have a higher back than all of the others. At his left was Steve, who you’d been properly introduced to on your first day at work and on his right was Sam Wilson, who you understood was a very close friend of his.

“Sugar, you made it.” Bucky enthusiastically greeted you as you approached the table. You hoped that you didn’t appear too flustered and intimidated, but you were aware that there was only so much you could play off with smiles when you knew your eyes might give you away. “Good evening Mr Barnes, gentleman.” You nodded, finally taking a step into the room and approaching the table, receiving polite hellos and smiles from all of them. “Are you looking after us tonight?” Steve asked, sitting forward in his seat and casually leaning his elbows on the table. “I am, Mr Rogers.” You nodded, lifting your notepad and pen as if it were proof. “Allow me to introduce you to everyone.” Bucky waved you over to him and you took a few steps towards him as he went around the table naming everyone. It was quite easy to distinguish that the people sitting closest to Bucky were of more importance to him as he listed Clint and Scott, who seemed to be his security and Pietro who appeared at first glance to be a mentee as well as the rest of the group.

“C’mere sweetheart.” Bucky motioned you to come and stand next to him once they were all done ordering food and drink. You stood where he’d pointed to and he turned in his seat to face you. You felt your cheeks warm intensely as Bucky smiled up at you, his eyes so soft and sweet and you questioned for a moment how exactly this man was the King of New York. He was incredibly sweet looking and for a moment you found yourself melting on the spot. “Is that everything, Mr Barnes?” You asked. “Not quite, sugar. Add whatever you’re having to the list, it’s on me.” He grinned at you. “I – uh, sorry?” You asked, a little confused. “Are you sure, Mr Barnes?” You hesitantly met his eyes though you immediately broke eye contact. “Absolutely, please eat with us, doll.” Bucky’s voice went soft as he tilted his head back a little to see you better, his lips pouting ever so slightly. “As you wish, Mr Barnes. Thank you.” You smiled at him, speaking softly before jotting your meal on the notepad and rushing out of the room.

You nearly bumped into Natasha as you made your way towards the kitchen. “He wants me to eat with them.” You blurted out before even making your presence known. “He what?” Nat frowned. “Mr Barnes wants me to order my food and drink and eat with them.” You repeated, more calmly this time. “Really?” She looked at you wide eyed. “Does he not do that with other waitresses?” You questioned, ripping the order out of the notepad and handing it to the kitchen staff. “No, he’s never done that before, never requested it either.” Nat shook her head. “Are you sure?” You surely couldn’t be the only one he’s ever asked. “I’ve worked here every night for three years and not once has he ever requested that.” Nat said with a single raised brow. It was definitely unusual. “I’ll get someone to call for you when the food’s ready. Let me get their drinks together.” She told you, waving you away before she went to look at the order you’d brought in.

You waltzed into the private dining room with a large round tray balanced expertly on one hand. The glasses on top gently clinked together as you walked. Handing out their orders, you took your drink last. You noticed quickly that all the men around the table had shifted and there was now an empty seat next to Bucky. “Come and sit with me, doll.” He patted the empty chair. Steve hopped up to pull it out for you and you obliged, gently sitting yourself down in the chair and turning slightly to face him. You didn’t want to assume you could speak unless spoken to, so you politely kept quiet while Bucky noticeably studied your face. “Tell us about yourself, sweetheart.” He smiled, sitting back in his chair as he picked up his drink and took a sip.

“I’ve been around and lived in a few different places. My parents passed several years ago and it’s just been me ever since, so I moved back to Brooklyn.” You did appreciate the soft look on Bucky’s face as he listened to what you said, almost like he felt sorry for you. Before you could continue though, Bucky rested his hand over yours and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry about your parents, truly I am.” He spoke just above a whisper. “Thank you, Mr Barnes.” You gave him a tight lipped smile. “Call me Bucky. We’re with family, which means we’re all on a first name basis, alright?” Bucky gripped your hand gently. “Alright, Bucky.” You nodded, mirroring his smile.

You told him more about yourself and for a moment, Bucky seemed anything but a mobster. He asked you about the books you liked to read and talked to you about the subjects that seemed to make your eyes light up and your smile a little wider. As the evening drew on, you became comfortable enough to share a few timid little jokes, which elicited chuckles and laughs from even some of the most scary looking men around the table. One of them, Drax, who was terrifyingly huge and angry looking, clapped his hand over his chest and roared with laughter the first time you told a joke, which completely took you by surprise. What surprised you more was how easy it was to make Bucky laugh and how down to earth and sweet he was.

By the time everyone had eaten and spent some time drinking and chatting and enjoying themselves, you had warmed up to all of them, especially Steve, Sam and Bucky. All of them though, were soft and charming on the inside, showing you a side to them you were unsure anyone else in the club was ever going to see. They were intimidating on the outside, exuding a terrifying confidence, but on the inside they were all sweet and gentle and caring and it absolutely melted you.

And after you had said goodbye to all of them and made your way back to the locker room, Clint, one of Bucky’s closer family members, followed you in. “Barnes wants me and Scott to make sure you get home safe.” He told you. “He’s requesting we give you a lift back in his SUV.” Clint added, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed over his middle. It definitely seemed unusual, especially to be personally driven home. As far as you were aware, not even Natasha, who seemed very close to the family was ever given a lift home. But then again, judging by her reaction to Bucky wanting you to dine with them earlier, you supposed this was all rather new for them, just as much as it was for you. “Alright.” You nodded as you opened your locker, pulling off your apron and putting it away before you took out your jacket and bag, quickly getting them both on before letting Clint escort your towards the back exit.

“Hey doll, hope you don’t mind the spontaneous ride home.” Bucky grinned, far too pleased with himself that he was having his men not only drive him, Steve and Sam home, but also you. Of course it meant he had a longer way home, but Bucky didn’t care. Seeing you all off to your houses was important to him and why seeing you off specifically was important, Bucky was starting to wonder why.

After sliding into the SUV and getting comfortable on the soft, plush seats, you were driven home with gentle, quiet chatter between Bucky and Sam, Steve joining in occasionally until you arrived at your apartment building.

“See you the day after tomorrow, sugar.” Bucky smiled, leaning towards the open door to speak to you as you got out of the car. “Thanks for the ride home.” You waved at all of the men in the car, Scott getting out to escort you up to the front door of the building, the car waiting until they had seen you safely into the building and the door shut behind you.

Sitting down in your bedroom, safely back in your apartment you laid down in the soft blankets, replaying the evening in your head, realising you were smiling to yourself when you remembered that Nat had said no one had ever been asked to dine with Bucky and his family before. It brought warmth to your cheeks as you settled in for the night, looking forward to your next shift at Stark’s.

Bucky Taglist (OPEN):

@losers-official @barneswidow @megantje123 @anchoeritic @struggling-bee

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mobster!bucky #mobster!bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #marvel #marvel fanfic series

553 notes · View notes

yslkook · 3 years

Text

IF I GOT YOU (7)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: one month later...and things start to come to a head. you feel more at peace than you've ever felt, but as usual, what remains peaceful is always interrupted.

pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc

warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, HELLA HELLA toxic friendship and dynamics, suggestive content (hooking up and other mentions)

word count: 4066

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz. would love to hear your thoughts

Despite a month going by from the last time you spoke to Jungkook in the park and put all of your feelings out in the open, spring air, you feel lighter than ever. Maybe most of that has to do with the simple fact that you’ve finally cut out a toxic, deadweight from your life. Regardless of what ends up happening with you and Jungkook as friends or more than that, at least you are at peace and happy with being yourself.

Besides, it’s not like you don’t ever see him. You see him when you visit the tattoo parlor (but you haven’t allowed yourself to be alone with him and he hasn’t initiated), you’ve seen him at impromptu nights out, at Yoongi’s apartment. Neither of you allow yourself to be alone with each other, since you had both agreed to wait. Even your text message thread with him is dry, though.

You miss him, hoping that a notification of his name with the bunny emoji attached to it flashes across the screen. But it doesn’t.

For all of his bravado, he feels somewhat shy around you on the few occasions that he’s seen you. Jungkook will go out of his way to avoid you, hiding (as much as he can) behind Mina and Mei.

He misses you. Jungkook misses the feel of your lips molding against his, the way you felt in his arms, but most of all he misses your shy smile and your loud laugh. He misses the way your eyes shine when you speak about something you’re passionate about.

Mina had said you were both being stupid, taking time away from each other when you both are denying the inevitable. But it made sense in your mind and his. You want to know what kind of person you were without the burden of Sora’s judgment weighing heavily in every frame of your life. You take the time you need to take to recenter yourself and feel somewhat whole again.

It doesn’t take you long to adjust to life without a former best friend. You quickly begin to notice how different you feel, how differently you approach basic things that you hadn’t really put much thought to before.

It feels so refreshing to not feel like you’re walking in some metaphorical shadow of someone who didn’t really care about you. Well, you think on some level, she did care. But along with the insignificant way she made you feel, it’s not enough to justify it. And you’re really grateful that you don’t need to anymore.

In fact, you’ve already deleted most pictures with her on your social medias. You haven’t quite been able to block her yet, but you think you’ll be ready to do that soon enough.

The ever elusive notion of time really does seem to heal nearly all forms of hurt.

“So,” Yoongi starts, sitting next to you on his new black leather couch and handing you a glass of red wine.

“Don’t start with me,” You say, poking his shoulder.

“I’m not starting anything with you,” Yoongi shrugs, but his eyes twinkle.

“Oh? That’s the voice you use when you have gossip or when you’re about to interrogate me,” You mutter, rolling your eyes with a fond smile.

“Maybe it’s a little of both,” Hobi chimes in, sitting on your other side. He leans back and drapes his legs over your lap, to which you instantly rest your hands over his legs.

“How lucky for me,” You mumble, taking a long swig of your wine. You’ll need it.

“How’s that witch doing,” Yoongi asks bluntly.

“I don’t know, I told you I cut her off and kicked her out of my house like a month ago,” You reply, “Did you forget already?”

“No, I just like hearing that you finally came to your fucking senses,” Yoongi says, “She was awful, but I’ll commend you for sticking it out for this long. Cheers, the witch is finally gone-”

“I believe the phrase is, ‘ding dong, the witch is dead’, but this will suffice,” Hobi says and yelps when you swat his shoulder.

“Don’t be rude,” You say, “But… thank you for helping me see the light. Even if it took a while. And I’m sorry it affected our friendship, too.”

“Ah, well, we’re all here now,” Hobi says, pulling you in for a side hug.

“Yeah. So cheers,” Yoongi says again, raising his glass to you both, “Cheers to you for choosing yourself. And to new beginnings.”

“You’ll make me cry,” You say honestly, offering your friends a watery smile.

“As if we’ve never seen you cry before,” Hobi scoffs. And it’s true- they are two of your oldest friends, and even if you’ve come to the realization that maybe you hadn’t been the greatest friend to them… That bond is hard to sever, and you’re grateful that they’ve always had your back.

“Drink up,” You say with a smile, “Cheers to new beginnings.”

Yoongi has always been a little sly, unassuming but always with several tricks up his sleeve. When he so desires to cause a little mischief and stir the pot a little. And Hobi is all too happy to engage.

Which is how you end up several glasses of red wine and rose deep (yes, you mixed, rookie mistake but who cares. You’re in the presence of some of your greatest friends, after all).

And then Yoongi goes in for the kill.

“How’s our Jungkookie,” He asks, without missing a beat. You choke on your wine and wince when it somehow gets lodged in your nose.

“I don’t know. Think he’s good,” You finally respond, your words sounding slurred, “Ask Hobi. They work together, if you didn’t know.”

“Oh, thanks for the information. I had no idea.”

“Happy to be of service,” You say, leaning into Hobi's side, “Ikindofmisshim.”

“What was that? Didn’t quite catch that,” Yoongi says, a self-satisfied smirk blooming on his lips. He heard you, of course he did, but you don’t seem to pick up on it.

“I said I kind of miss him,” You reply, a dreamy look in your eyes, “Do you think he misses me, too?”

Hobi chokes back a laugh but you hear it and offer him a glare. “Don’t make fun of me!”

“Nobody’s making fun of you, stupid,” Yoongi says poking your forehead, “And yeah. Your man doesn’t shut up about you. Always with those eyes around you.”

“He’s not my man,” You whine pathetically.

“Yeah, that’s a mystery to both of us,” Hobi says, “How long are you both gonna keep this up?”

“Keep what up?”

“This weird awkward dance you both do around each other. Avoiding each other when we’re all together. It’s kinda funny, like we all know you both wanna fuck so bad-”

“Shut up! That’s- that’s not- shut up!”

Yoongi and Hoseok both burst into laughter, drunken giggles loud in the living room and you can’t help but laugh with them.

Clubs were never your most favorite place to unwind, but you make an exception for tonight. For Mina and Mei, you’ll make an exception. The three of you had gotten ready together in Mei’s home, in between sips of cocktails that she had poured out. Mina had done your makeup for you, giving you the sharpest eyeliner you’ve ever seen on your eyelids as well as a bold red lipstick.

It’s not a club night if there is no red lipstick involved, after all.

Your makeup usually looks good when you apply it yourself, but Mina has a genuine eye and skill for makeup artistry. You recall her telling you that she’d always dreamed of going to beauty school but hadn’t pursued it. You had told her that it’s never too late to fulfill a dream and she had only smiled at you.

“Hey,” You say, “Is Jimin coming tonight? How’d your date last week go?”

“It was really good,” Mina says, something sweet in her voice, “He made me dinner and dessert. And then I sucked his soul from his cock an hour later and he even made me squirt. And yeah, he’s coming tonight to the club. We’ll see what happens...”

“Wow,” You nod, listening with wide eyes, “That sounds amazing. I’m really happy things are going well for you both. Including the horny stuff.”

“The horny stuff?” Mei laughs, “You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” You say, playfully shoving her shoulder, “It’s no joking matter that he made you squirt.”

“Yeah, I high fived him after,” Mina says slyly, “It was… a night. Can’t wait to have another night like that. But I’m gonna make him work for it tonight.”

“As you should,” You nod solemnly, “What about you Mei? Are we drinking until we blackout or are you playing hard to get with Seulgi?”

“Who says we can’t do both?” Comes Mei’s muffled response.

“Cheers to that,” You reply, “Are… Jimin’s roommates coming?”

“You think you’re slick, huh?” Mina snorts, “You wondering about Jungkook?”

“N-no, I haven’t seen Taehyung in a while either-”

“Tae’s coming, but Jungkook isn’t. Something about having a long week and wanting to chill at home.”

“Oh, gotcha,” You say, cheeks ablaze as you avoid her eyes. Unable to hold the slight sting of disappointment from your voice.

Mina and Mei see right through it but they say nothing, only handing you a refill of your now empty glass.

Despite the relatively steady stream of drinks in your hand (an illusion, really, you’ve been nursing the same two drinks all night), you’re almost completely sober. In fact, you’re more tired than anything else. It seems that Jungkook had the right idea to stay home tonight. You’re rather benignly jealous of his decision.

You enjoy dancing and singing with your friends, feeling the thrum and excitement of music and your close companions bursting through your veins.But environments like this overwhelm you sometimes. All of the flashing lights, sometimes smoke and all of the people… Tonight seems to be one of those nights.

“Wanna dance?” Comes a rich, velvety voice behind you to the right. It’s Taehyung, and you’d rather dance with Taehyung than anyone else in this club. With the exception being Jungkook, but he’s not here right now.

“Okay,” You nod, taking his hand when he offers it to you. Your thoughts flit to Jungkook briefly.

Taehyung is good company, always keeping you with a smile on your face and filling you up with laughter. He keeps you close with easy, gentle movements as you both belt out the words to whatever song is playing on the speakers. But Taehyung has always been observant.

“You don’t really wanna be here, huh? I’d take it personally, if I didn’t know you,” Taehyung teases.

“No, it’s not that,” You murmur, “Just have never been a big club goer, that’s all. Jungkook had the right idea in staying home.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung muses, “What are you two doing?”

He’s almost as blunt as Yoongi (who’s also in some corner of the club. Usually, he keeps you company at things like this, but conveniently, he’s nowhere to be found.).

“If I knew I was going to be interrogated in this club, I would’ve drank more,” You say dryly. Taehyung laughs at that and squeezes your shoulder.

“You both deserve to be happy. Just want you to know that.”

“Thanks, Tae,” You say, a grin spreading across your face, “I guess you’re not as sleazy as Mina says you are-”

“Me? Sleazy?” Taehyung gasps, pretending to be affronted. You roll your eyes and offer him your hand.

“Wanna dance?”

Taehyung turns you around and holds your hips tightly in his hands, dancing with you to the beat of the music. It’s nice to be held like this, even if it’s a little dirty.

You don’t notice a pair of sly eyes watching you from across the club.

By the time you excuse yourself to catch a breath and grab some water from the bar, you realize that most of your friends are off doing their own thing. It gives you a second to people watch from the second floor of the curb and lean on the railings, taking in your surroundings. Despite stifling a yawn.

You relish in the cool feel of the icy water flooding your senses, waking you up a little more. You wonder if you can convince Yoongi to take you to get fries or tacos after the night ends. At the thought of tacos, you salivate a little.

But your taco fueled fantasies are broken when a few girls try to push past you to get to the bar. You mumble a soft apology, but it goes unheard. The unmistakable sound of a voice, a voice that you’ve only recently been able to put out of your mind, breaks through the barrier and it makes your heart drop.

It’s an angry call of your name. Your stomach churns, and suddenly you’ve never wanted to learn the art of teleportation more.

Sora, in all her bitter glory, stands in front of you with a full drink in her hands. Beside her are two of her friends, looking resigned and trying to plead with her that they should go.

“Missed me so much that you followed me here, huh?” Sora sneers.

“I’m not even going to entertain that with a response. Or you for that matter,” You say tiredly, trying to step past her.

“All your friends left you. Look at you all alone,” She says and you roll your eyes with a dry laugh.

“I’d rather be alone than have anything to do with you, Sora,” You reply easily, “I’m leaving now-”

But she sidesteps you again, gripping your forearm and looking at you with so much animosity that it makes your skin crawl. Had she always looked at you like that?

“I can’t believe you just dropped me like nothing. After I gave you everything,” Sora says, as if you had said nothing at all. She’s clearly a little drunk, telltale signs of her drunkenness clear on her face. Her words are slurred and she stumbles a little on her feet. You cringe. You don’t want to have this conversation with her whether she’s sober or drunk.

“You treated me like I was nothing,” You snap, “I don’t want to discuss this with you. Now let me go.”

“Or what? There’s nobody here ‘cept you and me, babe,” She says, her lips twisting into a cruel smirk. Her friends have disappeared and warning bells start to go off in your head. She’s right, all of your friends have dispersed. But you manage to fish your phone out of your purse while she rambles to you and send a text to the groupchat, simply stating “pls help, Sora is here”.

Dread seeps into your pores. You just want to be done with her presence.

“Sora, just let me go. Nothing you say will change anything,” You say heatedly, “Fucking let go of me!”

You try to yank your arm out of her grip but her nails are sharp against your skin.

“I loved you, you know that? I fucking gave you everything, you were my best friend,” Sora hisses, “I just wanted to you be happy. To see that I’d do anything for you.”

It takes a minute for the dust to settle but you suddenly begin to understand. “You hurt me! That’s not friendship or l-love, or anything remotely close to it. Nothing you say will change that. I don’t want you around anymore. Take a hint, Sora,” Your voice is cold and deadly, nothing like what Sora is accustomed to.

“Please, let me go,” You beg softly, “Why won’t you let me go?”

Tears spring into your eyes, both from the force she’s holding you with and from how much this is exhausting you.

“What does he have that’s worth all of this?” Sora hisses.

“It doesn’t matter what he has. I like him and I enjoy spending time with him, that’s all that should matter, and I’m not explaining Jungkook to you,” You say coldly, “You lost the right to know a long time ago. If you took your head out of your ass for two seconds, you’d know that this friendship was over months ago.”

By now, both of your voices have raised in volume and pitch, attracting the attention of bystanders. This makes no sense to you, your head is starting to hurt from the implications of her words. You just want to go home. By now, Yoongi has seen your text and is trying to get to the bar to rescue you from Sora.

“He won’t give you what you need,” Sora exclaims.

“Shut up! Just fucking stop talking about him,” You shout, “I’m so fucking sick of this, just leave me the fuck alone. Your opinion doesn’t matter to me anymore, just drop it!”

You feel the need to defend him though, “He’s kind, he has a big heart a-and, you know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you. Just fucking drop it! Leave me alone!”

“You are so fucking blind! You’ve always been such an oblivious fucking bitch,” She screams at you and your blood goes cold. You’ve seen her angry, but not like this not when her eyes are blown over with rage.

Yoongi’s heart is beating in his ears as he tries to find you- this club is fucking huge, where the hell could you be? He’s already sent a text to Jungkook, telling him that you might be in trouble at the club and that nobody could find you.

“Where is he then? If he’s so kind, he must be here right?”

“What the fuck is your problem? You’ve always had a stick up your ass about him specifically- I mean you’ve always have a stick up your ass, but with him it’s like something crawled up there and died-”

“You couldn’t even cuff him? You dropped me for him and you didn’t even cuff him?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“What are you afraid of, babe?” She sneers cruelly, “Afraid he’ll find something he doesn’t like? Or are you afraid you’ll find something that you don’t like?”

Frustration and hurt boils in your belly, causing wetness to pool in your eyes. You shut your eyes tightly, willing the feeling to go away. With all of the calmness you can muster, you throw her hand off of you and rub your forearm gingerly.

Before you can say anything, her eyes narrow to slits. You don’t even have time to react before you feel a sudden wetness drench the front of your top. Remnants of her drink are splashed on your torso and you gasp, rage flaring through your veins once more. How dare she throw her drink at you? Before you can do anything though, a pair of arms circle your waist and you’re pulled into a strong chest.

You recognize the scent of his cologne immediately and the feel of his leather jacket. “Jungkook,” You mumble, looking up at him. He immediately gives you his jacket and pushes it through your arms wordlessly.

“Hi,” He murmurs, taking in your wide, nervous eyes and the trembling of your hands. He brushes a thumb over your cheek before standing in front of you and you take his hand in yours. Jungkook squeezes reassuringly.

He offers Sora a long, hard look and a shake of his head. She almost balks at his intense gaze. Almost.

“C’mon baby,” Jungkook finally says, “Let’s get out of here.”

“My knight in shining arm-” You shiver once you’re both outside the club, away from the eyes of strangers. You cut your train of thought off when he pulls you close to him, cupping your cheeks with both hands. Worry dots his eyes and he presses his forehead to yours shakily.

“Jungkook?” You say softly, “Is everything-”

He exhales, a shudder felt against your skin. He seems to be at odds with himself, an internal battle dancing in his dark eyes. But Jungkook makes up his mind and cradles your face again, the gentle pads of his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“I missed you,” Jungkook croaks, “Shit, I miss you so fucking much. Can I kiss you, baby? Is it okay if I kiss you?”

You nod instantly, breathing out a soft ‘yes’. Whatever this recent development means for both of you, it makes sense. You want this and you want him.

And then he kisses you as if it was meant to be, as if he’s been thinking about your lips every minute of every day- soft, balmy lips against your chapped, red lips. Jungkook swallows your gasp, somehow brushing against the parts of your heart that missed him. His kiss is sweet and desperate as his tongue traces over your teeth before dipping further into your mouth. Your knees weaken slightly, but he holds you steady with one arm around your waist and his other hand cradling your cheek.

You’re overwhelmed by him and from the events of the night. Whatever wetness had gathered in your eyes clings to your lashes before dropping down your cheeks.

“Baby,” Jungkook says softly. He gathers you in his arms, hugging you tightly. You sink into his hold on you, inhaling deeply. The faint thrum of his heart calms you slightly.

“I missed you,” You reply, voice barely above a whisper, “Fuck, I missed you a lot.”

He kisses your forehead with a small smile, the hint of his dimples making you smile, too. Jungkook looks at you as if you’re transparent, trying to study the reason for your wet lashes and the tear stains down your face. A feeling of understanding passes between you both, calming your racing heart and your nerves.

“Jungkook,” You murmur, “Take me home.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Yours,” You reply, not really wanting to be in your home just yet, “It’s only fair, since you spent the night at my place last time, right?”

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Jungkook chuckles. He kisses you one more time before adjusting his motorcycle helmet over your head. When you wrap your arms around him, you press a kiss to the back of his neck and behind his ear.

He shivers.

Jungkook can tell you’re in your head a little bit, a little quiet and shaky. Even as you head into his bathroom to change into the clothes he’d given you, you couldn’t quite meet his eyes. When you returned from the bathroom with a bare face, you’re lost in thought, biting down on your bottom lip and chewing harshly.

He’d pulled you into his arms, applied his clear balm on your lips, and chided you for treating your lips like that.

You only smiled weakly at him and meekly asked him to hold you under his covers. He doesn’t deny you.

He’d caught the tail end of Sora’s tirade at the club, and he’d begun to understand. He thinks you had begun to understand, too.

“Hey,” Jungkook whispers into your hair, “Do you want to talk, baby?”

“I don’t know what to say,” You admit softly, pressing your hand over his.

“I can talk for both of us,” Jungkook says, kissing your temple, “Can I do that?”

“Yeah,” You mumble, threading your fingers through his and squeezing.

“I heard some of what Sora said,” Jungkook says and you tense up but he wordlessly tells you to relax, “I think in some weird, twisted, fucked up way. She loved you and her way of showing you how was keeping you to herself. It’s shitty, but it made sense to her. But you don’t owe her anything, baby. Not a damn thing.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I feel really gross and I don’t know why.”

“That’s alright, baby,” Jungkook says, rubbing your arm, “You didn’t know. That’s not love, not really. You’re safe here.”

“I know,” You say, turning to look at him with a small smile, “I trust you.”

You turn fully in his arms, resting your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his waist. His heartbeat lulls you to sleep, as well as his gentle fingers over your back. It’s so easy with him, and you don’t need to think too much. Just how you like it.

Tags: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

MoM Tags: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse @hordanhearsawhooo @anonymous2505

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you

416 notes · View notes

kpopfanfictrash · 3 years

Text

A Holly, Jolly Crisis (Teaser)

Posting Date: December 18th, 6:00 PM CT (UTC/GMT-05:00)

Creative Contributor: @underthejoon for this wonderful banner!

Genre: Rom-Com / Ex-Childhood Best Friends to Lovers

Pairing: Hoseok / Reader

Synopsis: At this time last year, you thought you had it all. A kick-ass screenwriting job for the hottest TV show in LA, an actor boyfriend whose career was taking off and an affordable apartment with not one, but two bathrooms. Fast-forward to now and you’re single, soon-to-be jobless and searching for a way to scrape together January rent. Everything seems to be falling apart, which was why you told your family you weren’t coming home for the holidays. Enter your little sister, Sara, who recently became engaged to her boyfriend, Yoongi and needs you home to celebrate. The biggest problem? Returning home means you’ll be forced to face everything and everyone you left behind, including Yoongi’s best man – and your ex-best friend, Hoseok.

[ PART OF THE ONCE UPON A HOLIDAY COLLABORATION ]

Estimated WC: 37K

Rating: 18+

Preview: 2,455

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

Thank you for taking the time to send our team your screenplay for One for the Money. It was a pleasure learning about your characters and ideas.

Unfortunately, we did not select your spec script at this time for further consideration.

Not wanting to read the rest of the rejection email, you clicked back to your inbox and moved the message to trash. Releasing a sigh, you slumped in the hard, plastic airport chair beneath you. This had to be your fifteenth rejection email this month, which didn’t bode well for your screenplay’s future.

The screenplay in question was your self-written TV series – One for the Money. You’d been working on it for years and had just begun sending it out to studios. If a screenplay was written outside a studio and shopped around after, it was often called a spec script. This stood for speculative screenplay and you supposed that right now, this was the best descriptor.

A screenplay without a studio was practically nothing. Speculative, indeed.

Glancing up from your phone, you saw the flight’s status on the board had moved from green to red – delayed. Stifling another sigh, you switched apps on your phone to check the weather. Winter storms were sweeping through the Midwest, resulting in a delay of holiday travel. This was precisely the reason you hadn’t wanted to go home this year.

Well, it wasn’t the only reason you were dreading your return to Josen Falls. You hadn’t seen your family in over a year but had still planned on staying in LA for Christmas and New Years. A wrench had been thrown in these plans when your sister, Sara, became engaged to her boyfriend, Yoongi.

Yoongi had only had one request when it came to wedding planning – that they be married in the same church his parents had been, a beautiful venue up north of the city. Of course, the only available date at said church within three years was June 30th. Seven months was practically nothing to plan a wedding, but Sara was determined to make it happen. Hence the need to have you at home.

Don’t get you wrong – of course, you were excited about Sara and Yoongi. You’d been the one who introduced them, after all, through your former best friend. They were perfect together and you were nothing but ecstatic to see your little sister so happy. The only unfortunate part about her life coming together was it happened to come at the same time as yours falling apart.

One year prior, you would’ve said you were on the right path. Things had been going well in nearly every part of your life. Your TV show was about to release its second season, you’d been dating Darren for nearly nine months and had found a reasonably priced one-bedroom apartment in a coveted neighborhood. Everything had been looking up, considering your previous year in LA, where paychecks had been scarce, and you’d been dangerously close to asking your parents for money.

Now, you found yourself back in the same situation. Uncertain where your next paycheck was coming from, recently single and unsure how you were going to make rent next month.

Your coveted Hollywood job had been as a screenwriter for The Drop, a critically acclaimed show which ended abruptly this year after a dispute with the main actor. The third – and final – season was set to air in the new year on Netflix, but after that you’d be out of a job.

Hence the desperate pitch of your spec script to every mainstream television producer with an open inbox. Suffice to say, things were not going well.

This was evidenced by the uncomfortable chair you’d squeezed yourself into at the airport, having been forced to give up your pass to Admirals Club. The cost just couldn’t be justified right now. Forlornly, you stared at the ticket you held in your hand.

It had been nearly a year since you’d last visited home. At first, this hadn’t been a purposeful decision. You’d been swamped at work, preparing for the Golden Globes and seasons one and two of The Drop. Your ex-boyfriend, Darren, had been nominated for an Oscar last year, resulting in a lot of holiday parties to attend.

Last year had simply been too busy to come, but all that had changed in just a few months. It all started in March, when contract negotiations stalled with your leading actor, Tory River. Tory fancied himself a method actor, so when you refused to pay him the GDP of a small country, he decided to walk. Without him, the studio had to scrap the show. Better to leave things at three solid seasons than add a lukewarm fourth without the star.

You were told in May the third season would be the last and were highly encouraged to apply to other shows. Nothing had panned out from there and then, at the end of the summer, you were dealt another blow.

You should’ve known things were bad when Darren, your ex-boyfriend, called you himself instead of Molly, his assistant.

When you first met Darren Carmichael in LA, he was a struggling actor from Des Moines, Iowa. The Darren of September 2020 was no longer the Darren of early 2019, though – he’d long ditched the Midwest accent in favor of designer shades and loafers. High off an Oscar nomination and with job offers rolling in, you should’ve suspected something was wrong from the genuine contriteness to his tone.

The first thing he said to you was, “Did you pass a newsstand today?”

At first, you’d been baffled since no one walked past newsstands anymore. Logging into Twitter, you immediately saw why your boyfriend had been worried.

DARREN CARMICHAEL AND CO-STAR, JESSICA AVEC, CAUGHT CANOODLING ON SET OF RECENT MOVIE!

Frozen in place, you’d barely listened while he pleaded his case. Instead, you scanned the article and felt your emotions deaden with each word you read. Darren and Jessica had been caught making out when no cameras were rolling. You were only mentioned as a footnote, and not even by name.

Darren was previously dating a screenwriter in LA, although this seems to have ended several weeks prior.

You had wanted to scream at that point, wanted to call up the author and berate them for proper sources, but you didn’t do any of that. Instead, you sat eerily still while Darren yammered on and on about why he’d done what he’d done.

That had been the worst part. He hadn’t apologized – not really. Instead, he’d gone on about how hard it had been for him to be away, surrounded and worshiped by more available people. You had your career, he’d argued. You had other things, you didn’t need him and what he felt for Jessica seemed like the real thing.

Darren thought you should break up so he could begin dating her.

Numbly, you’d hung up the phone and blocked his number. That had been nearly three months ago at this point, but the sting of the breakup remained.

It wasn’t as though Darren had changed overnight. When you’d first met, he had been the super-cute barista at your favorite coffee shop. You two had bonded over being unable to find appropriately caffeinated beverages in LA and the rest, as they say, was history.

Then Darren landed a role as a recurring character on a popular Netflix show. What seemed like overnight, he became America’s heartthrob. Still, Darren had remained mostly the same at first. He went to work every morning, came home in the evenings and you continued to attend the same parties, run in the same circles.

Soon though, Darren was invited to more exclusive gatherings and slowly, his invitations transitioned from “Darren plus date” to “Darren.” You hadn’t protested at the time, not overly interested in canapés and pretentious conversation. The time you did spend together dwindled, going from Facetiming each night on his movie set to a harried phone call every other day.

Maybe you should’ve been more suspicious. Looking back on it now, the warning signs were all there, but you’d been too busy with work and worried about your show’s future. Darren had been distant and withdrawn, but you’d been okay because you’d been distant, too.

After you blocked his number, you’d kicked him out of your apartment. Packing everything he owned in boxes, you’d set these on the lawn and firmly shut the door. It was unfortunate that it rained before he could pick them up, but that couldn’t be helped. You refused to see him again – you even went so far as to have your assistant, Jimin, pick up Darren’s keys.

Jimin had done so gleefully, perhaps too gleefully, but that couldn’t be helped. Darren had tried to contact you a couple more times, but eventually he got the hint and the last you’d looked, he seemed blissfully happy with his vapid co-star.

Gritting your teeth, you exhaled. That wasn’t fair – you had no idea what Darren had told Jessica about you. For all you knew, she could’ve thought you’d been broken up.

Regardless, things had gone steadily downhill for you the past year. Single, nearly unemployed and running low on your savings, you could easily call this a low point in your life. Worst of all was your family didn’t know the true extent of it.

They knew you’d broken up with Darren, of course – that had been front page news for the nation. They also knew your TV series had ended, but they had no idea you were struggling as much as you were. Each time they called, you meant to tell them, but something managed to choke you every time.

Maybe it was that your mom was so excited about Sara’s wedding. Or maybe it was how diligently your dad had watched The Drop. Admitting you didn’t have a next step felt like defeat, so you’d purposefully kept things brief until you had something to tell.

The problem was none of your next steps seemed to be panning out. Again, your mind wandered to the rejection email in your trash.

“Excuse me? Are you Y/N Y/L/N?”

Blinking, you looked up and felt your heart sink.

The guy standing before you looked around college-age, dressed in a MORDOR FUN RUN t-shirt and wire-rimmed glasses. Clutching his laptop, he looked at you hopefully and you felt your heart sink even further. He had to be a film nerd.

“Um, yeah,” you said, trying to smile. “That’s me.”

This had happened to you a few times before. Even if you weren’t an actress, your name appeared at the end of every episode of The Drop. It hadn’t taken long for starry-eyed screenwriting ingénues to find you on Instagram.

Usually, you were patient in your responses, giving them as much advice as you could without being discouraging, but Lord of the Rings here had caught you on a bad night.

“No way!” he gushed, grinning widely. “I’m such a big fan of your writing. I swear, I’ve memorized the entire first season of The Drop.”

“Not the second, though?”

His face fell. “No, well – I, it’s a long series and…”

“I’m kidding,” you said with a smile. “That’s really nice.”

“I want to be a screenwriter myself, someday,” he said, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m in a program at UCLA and am searching for a summer internship. Any advice for someone who’s just starting out?”

Hesitant, you looked him up and down and wondered how honest to be. He seemed nice, looked hopeful and you were one hundred percent sure the industry would crush him.

“You want some advice?” you said as you stood from your seat. The light on the departures board had changed from red to green.

Eagerly, the guy nodded.

“Alright, here it is.” Slinging your bag over your chest, you said, “Don’t be a writer.”

The guy’s expression faltered. “What?”

“Don’t be a writer,” you said. “Screenwriting is one of the most fickle, unforgiving jobs in existence. Job security? None. Creativity? Only as much as shareholders allow. The industry will eat you up, spit you out and no one will give a damn. The glamorous profession you’ve dreamt of doesn’t exist. The best advice I can give you is run the other way.”

The guy stared at you, wide-eyed and for a moment, you felt a modicum of pity. Brushing this aside, you steeled your spine – better for him to find out now, while he could still change his major to something stable, like accounting.

“I, uh…” He paused, and then swallowed. “Thanks, I guess?”

“No problem,” you said, brushing past him as group numbers began to be called. At the last second, you turned around. “Best of luck in whatever you decide, though. Happy holidays, and all that.”

“Happy holidays,” he mumbled, in a daze.

As you entered the line, you bit down on your lip and began to regret your outburst. Some of your bitterness was based on your own experience; maybe his would be different. The guy had seemed excited and you’d just crushed his dreams.

Narrowing your gaze, you straightened. It would’ve happened to him sooner or later; of that you were certain. Better to warn him now than for him to learn it the hard way. You only wished someone had been kind enough to tell you this years ago.

Actually – a sliver of discomfort entered your thoughts, since someone had told you this last year. Someone had warned you about Darren, about your job and LA, but you’d chosen not to listen. Instead, you’d let your friendship crumble and hadn’t spoken to them since.

Just another reason going home for the holidays was going to suck. Going home meant you’d be forced to see Yoongi’s friends, which meant you’d be forced to see Hoseok. Yoongi and Hoseok were close, after all – they’d become friends in college, which was when Yoongi had been introduced to Sara.

It had been nearly a year now since you and Hoseok last spoke, despite having once considered him to be your best friend.

So, there it was. Reason six hundred and sixty-six why the holidays would suck. You were single, jobless and facing the imminent prospect of two weeks with people who either had their shit together or were a constant reminder of why you did not.

As you boarded the plane and settled into your seat, you pulled out your headphones and cranked up the volume. If you weren’t feeling particularly Christmas-y, you could at least try to numb the pain with alcohol and music.

Starting now, you decided, as you closed your eyes. Happy holidays, indeed.

[ TO BE CONTINUED ]

#teaser #hoseok fanfic #bts fanfic #A Holly Jolly Crisis

306 notes · View notes

razrbladekiss · 3 years

Text

Tyrants | Chapter One - Disclosure

A/N: This was supposed to be a Jax x Fem!OC fanfic, but it took a little turn as I started to write more of it. So, it’ll be Tig x Fem!OC, but Jax does play a very important role in this.

SUMMARY: A sick turn of events sees Isla Telford thrown in at the deep end, battling to govern the sudden pressures of all that her father's club decidedly bestow upon her.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of murder, the guy that got his ass shit is in this one. Jax and Tig get their own warnings, too, for obvious reasons.

The older I get, the more I realize that age doesn't bring wisdom. It only brings weary.

John Teller was always so astute.

His judicious character befell his son, too. Jax had that same perceptive nature as his old man--everyone would comment on that.

To Isla, it was admirable. For Jackson Teller to be a man of such stature--to hold such a reputation--and to remain somewhat level-headed through it all, was only something she could commend.

She'd seen many of her father's friends crumble under the pressure of Samcro, unable to balance the weight of living with the responsibility and commitment to the club, and meet their unfortunate demise--in some not-so extreme cases.

But Jax was different. He'd always been different.

Maybe that wasn't so great, however.

"You're fucking insane, Isla."

"Not insane." She mumbled, sifting through the box of shitty medical supplies that Gemma had left atop the pool table last night.

"Just trying to patch this shit up so Hayes doesn't kick the fucking bucket before Jax gets back here."

Tig snarled. "But it might be infected, and the bullet is still in this dude's ass--"

Isla whipped her head to glare at the man, her eyes wide, forehead slick with sweat--and a little blood, too.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Isla--"

"Tig, with all due respect, unless you're gonna help, please get the fuck outta here."

"That's not gonna suffice," he pointed out, referring to the medical tape, ignoring her scolding.

She wanted to throttle him. Truly, Isla was willing to wrap her crimson-coated fingertips around Tig's neck and squeeze the absolute life out of that man.

"I know." Her lips kneaded together in frustration, watching her father dab an alcohol-infused pad on the wound. "But unless you've got any better ideas, then we're just gonna have to keep reapplying this shit."

"But the infection, Isla."

"But the lack of medical equipment, Tig."

He slapped his palm against the table and glared at her, pointedly. "Why've you gotta be such a bitch all the time, huh?"

"Watch it, Trager." Piqued, Chibs growled.

"I'm not a bitch all the time," she dismissed her father, wiping at her palm with a wet rag. "I'm actually able to control the way I act around other people."

"Oh, fuck you--"

"Christ!"

The Scot's yell was muffled by the cap of his whiskey bottle, his hand pressing against Cameron's skin as the man screamed into the cloth Isla had placed underneath his head.

"God, for fucks sake, both of you just pack it in."

"Chibs--"

"Shut the fuck up. You're a fucking geriatric and you're spending your morning bickering with an almost thirty-year-old. Grow up, Tig."

Despite laughing at his comment, and enjoying the irritation wash over the other man's face, she felt bad.

For riling her father up--who was simply trying to help the innocent Irishman caught in the literal crossfire--she felt fucking awful. Especially because he never seemed to get mad at her all too often.

Tig, though...That was a different story entirely.

"I'm gonna go see if Clay has any more shit lying 'round here." She declared, throwing a damp towel onto the table, backing out of the room.

Her heart was in her throat, stomach in damn knots. Isla wasn't confident that Cameron was going to make it--not with such a deep wound.

And in his ass, too? Jesus. She wasn't confident at all.

Of course, she'd seen men get shot. Her own father, for one. But she hadn't seen somebody have to go so long without actual medical attention.

Chibs was ex-army med, but there was only so much a man could've done with a bottle of liquor, gauze, and a towel.

She was relieved that the bullet hit Cameron and not Clay, though. As sick as it sounded, she was so fucking glad that he'd managed to dodge the line of fire--initially intended for his own skull--and come out completely unscathed.

But for every ounce of relief she'd felt, an even more fervid sense of anger prevailed at the thought of Jax taking so damn long with those medical supplies he'd sought to get last night.

Gemma mentioned something about heading to the hospital--or a friend's house, or something--but Isla wasn't paying any mind to the woman as she, and Chibs, were trying all ways to stop the bleeding coming from Cameron's ass cheek.

It was the most bizarre turn of events she'd ever experienced.

One minute, Isla was sipping on a glass of wine while she eagerly awaited the spirited ping of her tiny microwave oven, ready to spend a rare--though well fucking deserved--night alone.

However, things took a drastic turn when she received a call from Tig--on behalf of a very busy Chibs--casually requesting her assistance because the Mayans had tried to assassinate Clay.

But Tig failed to mention that the man was completely fine.

She'd spent fifteen minutes on the way over mentally preparing herself, wondering what hell she'd walk into when she set foot into the clubhouse. But it was normal--strangely so.

Isla wasn't a professional, she didn't exactly know how to handle such a trauma, but she trusted her father and she just wanted to make sure he had a helping hand.

God knows that Tig wouldn't have been very much use, and Juice was a little nervous--though, he was doing incredibly well throughout the ordeal regardless of his internal apprehension.

"How's it looking?" Gemma threw at Isla, getting to her feet.

"Bloody."

She quickly scanned the room, taking in the uncomfortably sparse bar. It wasn't usually so empty, so quiet.

Clay, Gemma, and Juice. That was it. Not even Piney--not even Epps.

"Is he doing okay?"

It was still early in the day, though. She guessed that they'd pop in once they properly came around.

"He's better than he was last night." The brunette nodded. "Dad is certain the laceration is gonna get infected if we leave it any longer without trying to get the bullet out--"

"You've gotta wait 'til Jax gets back here, Isla, we can't risk Hayes dying on us."

"I know, Clay. He's just fucking tired--he's been up all night. We need a real medic on the scene before something bad happens. It's only a matter of time."

He mumbled something to himself that only Gemma seemed to catch, but Isla didn't particularly give a damn at that point. Like Chibs, she was exhausted.

The tattered and torn plaid shirt she had thrown over a random tank top--now smeared with another man's blood--was wrenched between her fingers as she pulled it off, folding it not-so-neatly.

She hadn't dealt with such a bloody wound in a while. Not since her mother's palm, decorated with shards of glass, was in dire need of stitches and her father was across the country, unable to offer his medical assistance.

"I'll grab one of Jax's shirts for you--"

"No, Gemma, it's okay," she smiled, taking a seat on one of the couches opposite her.

The older woman pinched her eyebrows together skeptically, watching Isla shift. "I insist."

"It's fine." Isla was adamant. "I'm gonna head home as soon as Jax gets back here--if he gets back here--so, really, it's fine."

A minimal amount of already dried blood was spread over her wrists and fingers, and the excess had been rubbed off on her crimson flannel, so she didn't particularly feel bad about making any mess.

Though, she shouldn't have felt bad. Not after she'd been coerced into helping and eventually receiving that shitty reception from Tig.

"Aren't you cold?" She questioned, waiting for Isla to capitulate, but she never did.

The thought of wearing one of Jax's shirts--after it being given to her by his fucking mother--didn't sit right with her for some reason. Plus, she didn't particularly feel like walking out of that building wearing the damn reaper on her back.

She didn't want to flaunt their patch. Not any more than she already had been for the last ten years.

"Where the fuck is he?"

Clay glared at the clock on the wall, realizing they'd been without the Vice President for hours. In an attempt to put him at ease, Gemma ran a hand along his shoulder.

Isla could only watch them--admire, perhaps.

"He told us he was gonna swing by Tara's place for the equipment. But that was last night, man." Juice shrugged, circling the lip of his beer bottle with his thumb.

She felt her throat thicken with a sick sense of trepidation. She hadn't heard that name in years.

"Tara?" She stuttered, feeling Gemma's piercing glare.

The woman hated Jax's first love, though she never said it aloud. Isla knew her perception of her, however, and she'd started to feel the exact same as the years went on.

Bitch.

"Yeah, y'know, Tara Knowles--"

Her heart sank--fuck that, it dove straight to the deep caverns of her chest, throbbing away into nothing. Until she felt completely void of all emotion. Completely fucking numb.

"I know her, Juice." Her response came hastily, snappy. "I'm sorry. I just didn't expect you to say that."

He shrugged it off. "It's alright. I wasn't expecting her to be back in town, either. I thought you already knew."

Suddenly uncomfortable, Isla's head shook.

The crow situated at the bottom of her spine began to smolder, blistering away at her skin until she physically flinched.

It was a brilliant idea at the time, getting a matching tattoo with Jax's old lady--the one woman she truly adored and trusted, never once feeling an ounce of malice toward.

Because that was a rare thing for Isla, and she wanted their friendship--and relation to Samcro--to prevail for eternity, she supposed.

But as time went on and Tara decided to distance, and eventually alienate, herself from the club, an ample sense of regret persisted for fucking months.

Isla loathed her ink. She hated the negative connotation of the crow she once lauded, and the mere idea of that thing being slapped above her ass forever churned her stomach.

It wasn't one of her finest moments, she had to admit. But she was young and extremely fucking dumb. She'd bet top dollar that Tara felt the same--if she hadn't gotten the crow covered up already.

"Jesus, Jax, where were you?!"

Her eyes flicked upward, attention on the blonde as he sauntered across the wooden floor of the bar.

She hadn't even noticed his presence until Clay spoke, but she soon started to heed how Jax was trembling a bit with every step that he took.

It wasn't obvious. To most people, the slight shake of his wrist would've gone completely unnoticed. But to Isla--to the most observant woman in Charming--his discomfort was striking.

Jax ignored him, stomping his way toward the back room. His line of sight never satisfied Isla's. It didn't even come close to it, either.

Something had happened. It was obvious that, in the time he had been with Tara, he'd encountered something grizzly enough to chill him to the bone.

Which was saying something, what with the horrific shit that he'd already seen in his time.

"Jax!" Clay yelled, following closely behind him. "Hey, asshole, where the fuck did you put the bag--"

"I've got it."

If she had the option, Isla would've allowed the floor to swallow her fucking whole.

"Tara." Pissed, Gemma acknowledged. "You're here because?"

"I asked her to help, mom."

"But Chibs had it covered. He just needed some actual instruments--"

"Gemma, quit it."

She simply nodded at her son, not wanting to cause another problem that she'd have to fix later--which, honestly, Isla was shocked to see.

"He's in there--"

"I know." Jax cut her short, ushering Tara to the back of the clubhouse--striving to get her into the room before she heeded Isla.

But she did.

The first person she clocked--aside from Clay--was Isla Telford, the woman she had purposely alienated herself from ten fucking years ago.

It wasn't anything that she'd particularly done to Tara, more like the crowd she ran with--and the way her loyalties never seemed to lay very closely to her friends, or anything outside of the club.

Isla wasn't a part of Samcro--she didn't want to be a part of Samcro--but her coalition was strong enough to convince anybody that she was more than merely a daughter of a Sgt. at Arms.

She had been brought up around the Sons--her father's choice, of course--and when her mother passed, she had no choice but to dive a little bit deeper into that world. But, as expected, it was constantly under the watchful eye of her old man.

She was dedicated to them. They were, essentially, family, and she was an honorary member.

"Isla." Jax mumbled, nodding his head toward the entrance of the clubhouse as he closed the back-door. "Outside."

He pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his leather vest, shaking the box as he strived to seem a little less suspicious to Clay and his mother.

The blonde wobbled to her feet--knees weak after hours of standing--while simultaneously pulling her bloodied flannel back onto svelte, freckled arms, recognizing that the chill was to hit her the second she stepped onto the gravel.

Jax was casual while he strutted ahead, taking long strides that Isla found fucking impossible to keep up with.

He pushed the door to close behind her, offering a cigarette that she hastily declined.

"What's she doing here?" Was how she decided to break the silence, her eyes searching for a hint of something written on his face.

But there was nothing. Not an ounce of emotion--scarily so.

"She's fixing Cameron up--"

"Not at the clubhouse, Jax. I meant back in Charming."

He ran a thumb across his lower lip, trying to soften his gaze on Isla, but it was futile. He looked discomposed--unsettled.

"She's uh--she's workin' at the hospital now." She started to nod, waiting for his elaboration. It never came, however.

"Oh, that's nice. I wonder what happened in Chicago...Do you know why she's back here? Or how long she's gonna be staying in town--"

"You sound like my fucking mother--give it a break with the thirty-seven questions about Tara, damnit."

He snarled, heeding the distaste of his words the second she glowered at him.

"Excuse you?"

"I didn't call you out here for a sweet little conversation, Isla, I called you 'cause I need your help--"

"With what?"

Jax's hand hooked onto the back of his neck while he tilted his head to look upward, thinking of a way--any fucking way--to explain just what damn mess he'd found himself entwined with over the course of the last twenty-four hours.

He didn't know what to say or how to say it--if he should've fucking said it. He trusted Isla with his life--always had--but sometimes he appreciated that she mightn't have appreciated finding herself tangled within Jax's boisterous, at times frightening, life.

But it was too late for that. She'd been dragged through the deepest shit and wasn't crumbling that easily.

"Jax--"

"Kohn." He stated simply, waiting for the cogs of her brain to begin turning.

"What about him? You got in trouble with the ATF or something? Because we can handle that--"

"I already did." Jax laughed humorlessly, finally meeting Isla's line of sight.

The skin underneath his eyes was red raw, blotchy and irritated after he had used the sleeve of his hoodie to scrub away the tears he'd shed.

The tears he hadn't wanted to shed, but had fallen freely--uncontrollably--from those cerulean hues Isla never tired of looking at.

"What do you mean by that?" Nervously, she quizzed.

He didn't even have to say anything. She fucking knew. She knew exactly what he meant by that, but there was a tiny morsel of something within her that hoped and prayed that he'd declare that her gut feeling was wrong.

But he couldn't. Because it was right. Like always, Isla's intuition didn't fail her.

"Jax, honey, what did you do--"

"I killed Kohn."

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fandom #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fic #tig trager #tig trager fanfiction #tig trager fic #tig trager x oc #jax teller #jax teller x oc #jax teller fanfiction

51 notes · View notes

alreadyblondenow · 4 years

Text

What happens in Korea, not stays in Korea

dj!Johnny x reader // SMUT, FLUFF, virgin!reader Summary: A week vacation in Korea for your sister’s wedding became even more exciting when a famous dj had a crush on you. Johnny was sure that it’s love at first sight. Not putting both of your careers on the line, you two had no regrets when the time comes and you finally leave. Word count: 5k Warnings: Virginity loss, swearing, explicit mature themes, unprotected sex Note: don’t lose your virginity to a stranger, please. Also don’t go on random dates with strangers, this is a fic.

The flight to Korea from your country was comfortable but tiring. From a long flight you went straight to your hotel that’s going to be your home for a week and then out again to go find the restaurant where your sister and her friends are. Exhausted as you get lost to a place that’s unfamiliar to you and feeling a little bit dizzy as you ask strangers for directions and search for the place.

“Sorry, I’m late. I got lost” letting out a big sigh and frown as your sister and her friends welcome you to dinner. Happy that you arrived in one piece, you went around to say ‘hi’ and ask everyone around how they’ve been, greeting everyone with a smile.

Nothing special happened during the dinner, everyone was laughing at your jokes and stories about your sister. Begging you to tell them more, “Oh you guys want more? Okay,” you clear your throat as you tell another funny story to playfully embarrass your sister, but make her happy at the same time.

As you continue to be the life of a normal dinner, a pair of eyes has been watching everything you do since you stepped foot in the room and made the place a little more lighter. Johnny Seo, a famous DJ in Korea is growing a little crush on you while you make everyone laugh. Watching you as your eyes disappear from too much smiling and laughing.

Before Johnny left with his friends, he made a bold move that will either get him in trouble or you will take his nice offer.

“Oh, I didn’t order this maybe-“ the waiter cut you off, and told you it’s from someone who told them to give it to you specifically. The dessert goes with a note that says,

Can I take you for a cup of coffee? I’m going to wait outside. -Johnny

It’s scary to take this kind of offer in a country you barely know, of course you will refuse. But being rude isn’t your style, you still want to thank him for the delicious dessert and you think a simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.

After eating the dessert, you told everyone you’re already tired and you still have stuff to unpack and it’s a good thing they let you go. You kiss your sister goodbye and hugged her fiancé, “I’ll see you both at your wedding.”

When you got out from the restaurant, you saw a fine man leaning on a lamppost with his both hands inside his coat pockets. Obviously he’s freezing to death. Then you remembered, “Oh shi- are you Johnny? Oh my, you’re freezing. I thought maybe you left already-“ the man was smiling at you weakly because he’s freezing, you feel bad about rejecting him when he really kept his word.

“Hi, I’m Johnny” he offered his hand for you to shake.

“Y/n- I’m Y/n, are you okay? I think for someone living in Korea, you dress so thin” you said with an awkward smile as you continue to shake his hand. Johnny didn’t want to let go of your hand because it’s warm, but he has to.

“Oh don’t worry about me. So, are you good for coffee?” he smiles at you brightly and shivering as he waits for your answer. To be honest you’re still full and you want to walk around. If he refuses to show you around until you reach your hotel, you will leave him. Besides, you don’t want to be lost on your way back to your hotel. You thought maybe he can help you with directions.

“If you can help me find my way back to my hotel on foot, I will invite you to my suite and make you a cup of coffee myself”

Without hesitation, he said “deal. You sure know how to negotiate.”

The walk back to your hotel was not awkward at all as you expect it to be. Surprisingly Johnny can converse easily without sounding like a total creep and a stalker. He taught you easy ways to walk around Seoul, basic Korean words that you can use over your week stay, told you what to do and what no to do while you’re in Korea for a vacation.

It’s weird how he doesn’t feel like a stranger anymore but rather a new gained friend. During the walk he told you that he grew up in Chicago and made a living here in Korea, “I’m a DJ here, If- if you’re wondering what I do.” he pointed a few clubs where he DJs and you think it’s cool how his work is not boring and that clubs pay him millions of won.

On the other hand, Johnny love how you are not creeped out anymore. Keeping the conversation going was not hard because you’re easy to talk to and you can turn any topic into an interesting matter. He secretly admires your eyes whenever it disappears every time you smile or laugh that’s why he keeps on making you laugh. Hoping your stomach won’t hurt from too much laughing.

When you both arrived at your suite, you don’t know what happened but Johnny became ten times hotter when he removes his coat. Wearing a pink buttoned down shirt and a dark denim jeans matched with a comfortable leather boots. All you can say is, “Nice watch” out of all the nice things you’ve already noticed about him, that’s the best you got.

You head over to the kitchen and bring out your favorite coffee. Putting the coffee bag on the kitchen counter as you get two mugs and your french press coffee maker, heat up some water and hand him a bag of your favorite cookies.

“Ooh I have one of these” amazed that you’re a coffee lover like himself, you now have something new to talk about. Turns out you’re both obsessed with coffee beans. Johnny became even more interested and fascinated in you.

“My dad knew I liked beans...so like he was just playing with beans... ” and you laughed at his made up story on how his dad invented coffee for him.

Using the french press coffee maker in front of him, weirdly turned him on. There’s something with the way you slowly press on the plunger all the way down to the lid that made his cock twitch and hips jolt. Thankful that he has the table to cover what’s happening inside his pants, he focused on other things to stop his cock from getting hard. While he was watching you make him a mean cup of coffee, you noticed he was moving from his seat too much.

The talk over coffee was a bit more personal than the talk you’ve had with him while walking. Family, career, friends, and even your sex life. Something you don’t usually talk about to someone you just met but again, Johnny is a new friend.

“She broke up with me just after we had sex and it was the worst feeling ever!” he was telling you how his recent ex broke up with him and the story made you burst into laughter. “And the sex wasn’t that even good” you lost it when he added that part.

In the middle of laughing your lungs out, he looked at you and asked you about your recent ex. He was waiting for your answer nervously when you stopped laughing and took a sip from your coffee. “I’ve only had one ex, and he broke up with me over a text” he made a disgusted face, pretending that he’s going to puke and you think he’s adorable.

“At least tell me the sex was good” he pout in front of you.

“I’m a vir…gin” hesitating to tell him that part about you because for sure it will make the atmosphere awkward for the first time tonight.

You’re right. Both of you went silent after you told him that you’re a virgin and you swear you felt the sexual tension build up. With shaking hands, you offered him more coffee pouring on his empty cup when the lid accidentally opened you carelessly poured a decent amount on his clothes.

“Oh that’s hot!”

“Fuck- I’m sorry. Shit, wait I’ll get you some dry towel” you panic as you head towards the bathroom and look for any available towel that you could offer to him. Worried that maybe he got annoyed or mad because of what happened and now you’re hating yourself even more. Preparing yourself to end the friendship and bond you just built with Johnny.

As you went back to the kitchen still panicking, you found Johnny shirtless. His perfect body exposed right in front of your eyes, using his ruined shirt to wipe on the damped area of his jeans. Suddenly you feel warm and it’s spreading all over your body, making your legs weak. Johnny’s body is such an eye candy for you and you needed to stop yourself from staring because he already caught you looking at his body.

You gather all your strength as you face him and give the clean towel, smiling at you as he takes it. “I know you feel bad, but seriously it’s fine. I’ll go home wearing my coat and I’ll take a cab” you hear him apologise even though he did nothing wrong.

Johnny helped you clean up the mess and helped you around the kitchen, telling you over and over that’s it’s fine and you don’t need to beat yourself up because of it. “At least let me put some ice on it, I’m sure it’s stinging” he didn’t have any other choice because you were calling room service and asking for some ice before he can refuse.

“Ouch” Johnny pretends to hiss so he could see you worry more and admire how you’re really concerned about him. Sitting down on the couch and trying not to laugh whenever the ice tickles him. Bitting his tongue whenever your cold fingertips touches his skin which turns him on so much.

“I just ruined a great night” you said as you steadily put the ice bag where he told you to. Pouting in front of him and avoiding his eyes.

Feeling sorry that you’re blaming yourself, Johnny was thinking of a way to turn the situation around into something more fun. “Want me to prove that I’m fine?” he said as he gives you that handsome smile as if nothing hurts. You gave him a look and continued holding the ice bag.

Hesitating but he can’t wait any longer, it’s not his intention to be this bold and confident on the first night. Proving that he’s okay and actually… more than okay, he place his right hand on top of yours. Putting the ice bag away from his skin, motioning you to sit on his lap and you have no idea why you’re following.

Theres that warm feeling again that’s creeping around your body and now that you’re sitting on his lap, that warm feeling came with a tingle that goes straight to your pussy. Leaning closer and closer to you, It’s obvious that he’s stopping himself from kissing you. Instead of kissing you already he cups your left cheek with one hand and admires your features closely. Hot breath touching your face and you swear you can hear your heartbeat.

“Are you just gonna stare at me?” frustrated that he haven’t kissed you yet, the question was more of an invitation and you can only hope he gets it.

“You have no idea what I want to do with you” now you’re forehead to forehead, feeling the tension rise more. Maybe he’s stopping himself because he found out that you’re still a virgin.

But he kissed you.

He kissed you sweetly and gently, making you feel safe as he cage you down on the couch. Arms swing around his neck, feeling his soft hair around your fingers. Arms traveling down to his broad shoulders and unconsciously caressing his chest and toned abs as you focus on what’s happening between your lips.

“What?” feeling shy and definitely aroused, you asked why did he stopped.

“Do we want the same thing? Because if you want to talk first, we can” it surprised you how he’s still such a gentleman even though he’s literally in between your legs already and kissing you like you’ve know each other for years.

“Yes, Johnny. We want the same thing. Now put your lips back on my lips”

Without any other word, he shook his head on disbelief and kissed you again passionately. Carrying you effortlessly to the bedroom and placing you in the middle of the king sized bed. Helping each other remove your clothes quickly as possible as you’re both excited to touch lips again.

Laying comfortably in bed with a naked Johnny in between your legs keeping you close to him and kissing you nonstop. His big hands grips both of your boobs pinching, sucking and licking your nipples in the most lustful way. “Let’s not skip foreplay” kissing your body and spreading spit all over your neck because of his open mouth kisses.

Kissing you down slowly from your neck, “that tickles” you both giggled but he continued again immediately. As he kiss the valley between your boobs you tried telling him with clear words, “Im very ticklish on the stomach part, I beg you. Please skip it”

“Okay, I will” Johnny, a man of his word proceeds directly to your pussy.

“Fuck! I did not see that coming” struggling to be vocal, your moans and groans made their way out of from your mouth making Johnny grin while he licks your pussy good. Reaching for your hands and not letting go them as he lets you grip it whenever you need something to hold on to.

The sensation that Johnny is giving not only made you grip both of his hands, but it makes your legs open wider for him. Rolling your hips as you catch every lick that his tongue gives and put you on edge. Trying to keep it down as you stop yourself from being too loud while you enjoy your first orgasm.

“That good?” He teased you as he meets your eyes again waiting for you to come down from your high. While caressing your thighs as he kisses you, he felt your hips ask for him already. “Okay, chill” it made him chuckle a little as he understood what your hips were saying.

Finally he goes on top of you, asking you to spread your legs so he could line his cock already. The thought of losing your virginity does not scare you at all or make you nervous. Fuck, you’ve been waiting for this to happen but no one is man enough like Johnny to take it. Honestly, you’re happy that Johnny is going to be your first fuck. Who wouldn’t?

Slowly pushing in with a little bit of force, with delicious moans and airy tone you said “fuck it feels good” you can feel how his cock is stretching your hole and how it’s slowly coming inside you. Johnny hums in approval still pushing in with enough amount of effort, careful not to hurt you. Once he’s fully inside, the stretch is bearable because you really want to have sex. But fuck, does it hurt!

Johnny knew that it hurt because your face tells him so but your moans tells him a different story. You contort your face because of the pain but theres still a weak but beautiful smile to take away his worries. Bringing both of your hands on top of your head just how he likes it. Feeding his eyes with a view of your naked body beneath him smiling from time to time whenever you praise him.

“This is the best part”

He rolls his hips and it gave you a feeling that you can’t explain but you both groaned together with just one move. Rolling his hips again and again and again, fucking you like how you deserve. With slow and steady pace, you both enjoy the feeling that you give each other.

Give and take. That’s the perfect description of what having sex with Johnny feels like. Brushing your thumb on his nipples as you watch him be sensitive above you, he smiled at you in acknowledgement to don’t stop what you’re doing. Putting his thumb inside your mouth as he cups your face and look at you deep in your eyes, in return for the nice feeling of your thumb that brushes on his skin.

Leaning closer to you, chest to chest so he could tastes your lips again and keep you close as he feel your body shiver from the way he fucks you with a steady pace. You on the other hand, made sure to tell him that everything he does with your body is perfect. Letting him swallow your moans as your lips never rest from kissing. Catching his lustful thrusts, telling him to go “harder.”

With wide eyes and strong hips that continue to thrust inside you, pulling away from the kiss for a moment and said, “May I remind you that you were a virgin, just a few minutes ago” smacking your right ass cheek to let you know what you’re asking for. It startled him more when you said, “Do that again” in the most innocent way that turned him on.

Unconsciously his thrusts became piercing and hard, making you gasp sharp and lose your mind completely. You feel like after a few more piercing thrusts from Johnny, you will fall from the bed and will completely humiliate yourself. “I got you” he said, as if he can hear your thoughts.

Trying to closing your legs as you finally reach your sweet climax, he pull away as he watch you beneath him moan his name and shiver like crazy. Choking your neck slightly with bare hands as you grip his arm but not to push him away, but to caress it and hold on tight to it. He got the message that you’re telling him ‘it feels good.’

He chase his own sweet release watching you cum while he controls your breathing. Pulling out his cock and pump it in front of you and release hot spurts of his thick cum on your stomach. You on the other hand, wants to curl your body and shiver all you want as you ride your high. Closing your eyes shut as you close your legs and feel Johnny’s hands caress your sides, hearing him breath heavily as he waits for you to calm down.

When you open your eyes, you see him kneeling in front of your closed legs with a soft cock, his hands on your knee, eyes half lidded but still full of lust. He didn’t removed his expensive watch you noticed, “even after you just fucked me senseless I still notice that nice watch on your wrist”

Leaning again to ask for a kiss, he’s totally head over heels. “Can I have a kiss?” Johnny cupped your face and you gave his sweet request. Not giving him one but two, or maybe twenty. “I’ll clean you up” he said, and you watched him walk away from the bed and towards the bathroom. Seeing his flawless butt, thick thighs and sexy back muscles was your last memory of your first night in Korea.

Your sleep was good and peaceful even in your dreams, Johnny is treating you right. Unconsciously you hug Johnny tight, both sleeping with naked bodies. ‘Woman you’re making me horny in the middle of the night’ he thought to himself as he kept you close, caging your body with his strong arms so you won’t move too much.

When Johnny opened his eyes from a good sleep, the first thing he saw is your bare back and butt cheek exposed, greeting him ‘good morning.’ He rolls you to face him and tried to wake you up by whispering a sweet “Good morning” his arms swing around your waist. But you never opened your eyes even though he showered you with kisses already.

Not long after the room service came in with the breakfast, you woke up smelling pancakes all over the suite. Stretching your body as you feel that nice sore down there all because of Johnny. Smiling as you stand up from bed naked, slipping some panties on and a big shirt before you meet Johnny for breakfast.

Seeing him shirtless while pressing the plunger on your french press coffee maker wearing that nice denim pants he owns, makes you bite your lip. Remembering how he slowly entered you last night but it’s too early for that.

“I get it, you’re perfect” you said as you hug him from behind and tiptoed as you kiss his shoulders. Feeling his body vibrate as he let out a chuckle. “Tried waking you up but you were sleeping soundly” he kissed you good morning again, this time he gets a response.

Sitting down together and having breakfast, eating everything he put on your plate and you do the same thing. “Glad you’re happy about the breakfast, didn’t want to leave you with an empty stomach after what we did last night” he winked at you and ate a strawberry so sexily making you giggle. But hearing that he’s going to leave you already made you feel sick.

“This is it then?” Trying to smile brightly, pretending that doesn’t hurt a bit. This is how one night stands work pull yourself together, you tell yourself as you continue to eat.

“W-what?” He noticed how your mood suddenly changed, “No. I mean, I need to go home and change into some decent clothes. Not leaving you as in leaving you” with wide eyes he tried explaining what he really meant. Johnny couldn’t believe that you thought he was going away after having a great night with you. To be honest, if things turned out differently last night and you didn’t had sex with him he will still stick to you like crazy glue.

“Okay, to prove that I’m dead serious with this… Come to work with me. Watch me DJ tonight and I promise you will love Seoul even more” of course you said you’d come after you meet your family for dinner.

Before leaving your suite Johnny kissed you one too many times before he could finally let you go. “Okay okay, we’ll see each other tonight” you had to push him to the elevator so he could finally go home and change.

“I’ll see you tonight” he said, as you watch him disappear when the elevator closes.

For the past few days, you’ve been hanging out with Johnny as he shows you around Seoul. Bringing you to his work place and introduce you to his nice friends. “I think Mark is a good rapper. He swears too much though the whole dinner” Johnny laughed at your observations as you both walk hand in hand and too close with each other.

Obviously you like each other way too much, it’s almost impossible to separate for a few hours so he could work and you could meet your family. There’s no such thing as ‘lazy day’ when you’re with Johnny. When you’re not outside with him enjoying the Seoul weather, he stays in with you and spends time with you.

Some nights, you just kiss each other passionately and enjoy the sexual tension between you two. Kissing until both of your lips are swollen and couldn’t kiss anymore. Some nights, you do other stuff like giving him a blowjob and him going down on you for an hour. Nothing too freaky but still wild enough to somehow end up sleeping in bed naked.

The worst thing that can happen to you is when he decides to carry you like you’re just nothing and slams you to bed and torture you with tickles.

He never asked you to have sex with him even though he really wants to, he just figured he doesn’t want you to think that sex is the only thing he wants from you.

No. He wants to love you.

“Can you be my date at my sister’s wedding on Saturday?”

Maybe for you its just a date, but for Johnny it’s more than just being your date. Trying to hide his blush from you, he smiles to himself for a second before facing you. “And meet your whole family? I would love to”

Everyone was excited and ecstatic about Johnny, even you aunts are crazy about him. The wedding was a simple rooftop setting where two families joins together. It was a warm night and tears flow as you delivered your speech to your sister, happily letting another family to take care of her.

Good thing Johnny has your back, immediately making you laugh the moment you came back to your seat next to him.

“Dance with me, beautiful” he kissed your forehead in front of your whole family and you heard giggles, a lot of ‘omgs’. You figured, you owe your entire family a solid explanation about Johnny. Not intentionally ruining the mood, you finally dropped the thing that’s been bugging you. “What are we gonna do? We’re so in love with each other. I’m going away eventually”

Swaying you to the rhythm of the music, Johnny keeps you close to him holding you tight. Smelling your perfume and admiring how your heartbeat feels good against his chest. “Ssshhh. I think your aunt over there has been checking me out the whole night. And your cousin over there”

Laughing at what he’s whispering beside your ear as your family continue to gossip and stare at you and Johnny for being such a lovely couple. ”Lets just take everything we can. Enjoy all the time we have and separate without regrets” he said as he continues to sway you over slow music.

It’s not a bad idea, you thought. ‘Separate without regrets’ you like the sound of that. As your vacation is about to end, Johnny made every second special from the moment he bought you that dessert.

“Let’s pretend were the ones who got married”

Hearing that from Johnny made you tear up on the spot as you listen to him whisper about his love for you. How waiting for you outside that restaurant under a cold weather with thin clothes were all worth it. Johnny even told you how he felt when he saw you press the plunger and explained why he was moving from his seat that time. You were completely speechless and overwhelmed the whole time you were listening to Johnny, sad because you’re leaving but mostly happy because you met him.

“I’m thinking about leaving right now and going back to your suite so we can enjoy our honeymoon, what do you say wife?”

As you’re about to leave the party and say goodbye to your family, your aunts told you to marry Johnny someday so they could still see him during family gatherings. You thought of it as something funny and impossible but deep inside, you wanted it to happen.

You caught Johnny being sandwiched by your older aunts, and saved him by dragging him gripping his hand tightly as you both waved goodbye to everyone. “Oh Johnny Seo, what is it with you and older women?” completely annoying you, he brushed his hair and flexed his good looks in front of you and told you in the most sexy and at the same time funny way possible. “Psh. Were married remember? What are you so worried for?”

When you came back to your hotel, Johnny a man of his word carried you bridal style as you enter the suite. Putting you down inside the bedroom, kissing passionately as you both proceed on removing your clothes.

“Why do I feel like I’m really enjoying my honeymoon right now?” His hands cups your face again as he kiss you down until you hit the mattress.

Your second time having sex is different from the first time. That give and take feeling is still there, but tonight rather than giving you feel like you wanted to be selfish. Both of you are. Johnny’s kisses became hungrier not thinking about wether you still have air whenever he dives in for a kiss. Gripping your boobs a little too hard than the usual, biting your nipples in surprise making sure he hears you say ‘ouch’ in a soft way.

“Spread those pretty legs for me?” He asked so sweetly but the way he held both of your legs and opened them widely was not sweet at all. How every word that comes out from his mouth is the opposite of what he was doing to you, and you love it.

“I will go in slowly now” but he rammed his cock inside your pussy making you grip on his shoulders and close your eyes. Completely forgetting how you’re not still familiar with his thick cock. Roughly forcing you take every pound and piercing thrusts he gives you not listening to your whimpering and loud moans. “H-hurts” its all you can say while he fucks you hard.

“S-sorry. This is what you do to me baby. You make me crazy” Johnny’s groans and moans sounded good, that’s why you let him pound in you. You let him be selfish and catch his own sweet release. Loud sounds escape your mouth, breathing heavily as he give you more because you asked for more. Digging your long nails on his shoulders and biting whatever flesh you can to stop yourself from cumming too early.

Suddenly he changed his pace from hard thrusts to rolling his hips going deeper inside you. Folding both of your knees and reaching inside you deep, the angle is new to the both you. You saw something move in your lower abdomen that creeped you out but you realised it’s Johnny. “Johnny you’re so deep. Fuck, is that your cock inside me? Oh-fuck” with your own eyes you saw how big Johnny’s cock inside you as if it’s rearranging your guts. You wonder how it fits perfectly but definitely big for your own good.

“Want to try something new?” He asked oh so softly beside your ears, you nod your head letting him do what he has in mind. Pulling out quickly, making you moan and let out a sob, ‘ouch’. It was different from before so he asked you if you still want to keep going, “fuck yeah” you answered weakly.

Flipping you gently on your stomach, putting you in all fours position, your back perfectly arched just the way he liked it but still feels good for you. Cold air hitting your pussy from behind, grunting and groaning as he pushed back inside you making you cry out loud and whine a little louder but its muffled.

“That must’ve hurt I’m sorry, and I mean it” he said before kissing your shoulders and started to roll his hips deliciously slowly as a way of apologising.

“Oh!”

You both loved the new position as you both let out sounds you didn’t know you can make. Gripping the sheets and breathing heavily as you enjoy how he thrusts deep. Johnny is way ahead of you, the view of your back perfectly arched because of him and watching your cunt take his cock without telling him to stop, not even once. It completely brought him to edge but trying so hard not to cum yet, waiting for you to cum first. He reached down for your clit making your legs weak and yell at him for the first time.

“Sensitive! Baby please! Don’t”

Begging over and over again but he didn’t listen. Fucking you with an animalistic pace, you scream letting the mattress muffle all your loud moans and curses as you reach your much awaited release. Without noticing it, Johnny already pulled his cock out and cumms on top of your ass holding it steady.

Slowly your legs give in as you lay on your stomach flat riding your high. Trying to ease the sensitivity by tightly closing your legs and clenching your pussy. You feel Johnny’s lips on your cheeks kissing you and whispering apologies for being too rough. “I’m sorry baby, I’m really sorry” With all your energy you told him to stop apologising and kiss you sweetly until you tell him to stop.

Your back is wiped clean already all thanks to Johnny. “You can sleep now” he said, you face him to see his handsome glowing face again, “how can I sleep when this is my last night sharing this bed with you?”

“Then we’ll find a new bed to share with” its easy for Johnny to always be positive and be full of hope, something that you will surely miss.

“Hey” he said and you hum, asking why. “I love you. I’m not saying this because it’s our last night together. But I’m more confident on showing how much I love you, rather than saying it, you know. I hope you understand” He said as he kiss your lips softly.

“Oh I know that all too well. I love you too. And I’m not saying it because its my last night here. I was just so busy taking all the love you’ve been giving these past fee days and I completely forgot about being honest and for that, baby I’m sorry” its true that you feel sorry for saying it late. He’s quick to wrap his arms around you, telling you “no no, we loved each other pretty well for a whole week”

Enjoying the warmth that he gives as you feel his fingertips play with the softness of your skin. “I need you to sleep so you won’t get tired on your long flight” you nod your head gently as you drift to sleep. Feeling Johnny’s lips touch yours one last time for tonight.

The next thing you know, you’re hugging Johnny tightly in the middle of the airport saying goodbye as you catch your flight. “Now go in there, before I change my mind and stop you from leaving” you walk away from him, turning your head back from time to time.

He mouths an ‘i love you’ when you’re already inside, waving continuously until he doesn’t see you anymore.

But you didn’t know that Johnny is booked to the same flight you’re in. He just wanted to surprise you and maybe tease you a little bit. He figured maybe to extend your time together, it’s time for him to take a vacation with you to your own country.

✈️

................................................. Masterlist What made me write this? I’m still wearing ex’s pyjama and he kinda sorta looks like Johnny. idk. But don’t get me wrong! I’m not sad or anything hahaha The picture of Johnny alone inspired me to write. Million thanks again if you reach up to this point! Thank you!

#nct-writers #neowritingsnet #nct smut #nct johnny seo #johnny seo smut #nct johnny smut #nct fluff #nct johnny seo fluff #johnny seo fluff #nct au #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 #johnny seo x reader #kpop scenarios #kpopimagines #kpop imagines

583 notes · View notes

talesofesther · 4 years

Text

Anchor - Part 1

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: When Y/N reunites with her friend Klaus he ends up dragging her into his family mess of saving the world from an apocalypse. Meanwhile, Five sees himself getting more and more attached to this new girl.

Masterlist with the other parts

A/N: if you wanna be added to the tag list, let me know.

Important notes, PLEASE read:

I suck at summaries, so I'm sorry;

Anyway, I haven't written anything in a LONG time, so brace yourself for some bad writing, also English is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes;

Five is aged up to 17/18 years here (which is Aidan's age, so nothing's changed);

This fic will be focused on Y/N's and Five's relationship so if I sometimes just brush past anything important happening with the other siblings, that's the reason;

I will follow the main events of the series but there might be some changes to best fit this story;

I have just a vague idea of what I want this story to be, but I'll mostly figure things out as I write. I'll try to update this always as soon as possible, but no promises (I'm also open to ideas of what you would like me to include in this story, so don't be afraid to ask);

I'll always try to keep the siblings in character as much as I can, but it may not always be perfect, so I'm sorry;

And last but not least I will only continue posting this fic here if you guys like it, so please let me know, a simple like will suffice. And all feedback is appreciated :D.

It was already late at night, Y/N didn't know how late, but it was late. She was mindlessly walking the empty streets, with her hands in the pocket of her jeans, her sneakers kicking the dirt and her head overwhelmed with probably too many thoughts. She reached a club, at least she presumed that's what this place was. Just hearing the music from outside already seemed to give her a headache.

She was already walking away from the disturbing place when she saw a man stumble his way out, something about him looked familiar so she walked a bit closer and squinted her eyes to give him a better look. The only light illuminating them was the moon and the faint colorful lights coming from the club, and when she saw who the man was her eyes automatically widened.

"Klaus?" Her voice made her sound more surprised than she actually was.

Klaus on the other hand, raised his head so fast when he heard her voice he even became a little dizzy. When he saw the girl in front of him, his hands came to his mouth in utter shock and he muttered "oh my god".

"Oh my god Y/N" he said again, louder, after some seconds. Next thing Y/N knew she was being enveloped in a bone-crushing hug by her weird friend. "I can't believe you're actually here. Oh, it's been so long, I missed you" Klaus said while holding her close, he seemed genuinely happy to see her and it sent a warm feeling to her heart.

"I missed you too, buddy" she said with a smile, bringing her arms around him as well.

Klaus finally pulled back and held her by her shoulders. Now that he was closer, she noticed that he was sweaty and looked quite on edge. "Finding you here is definitely the best part of today, oh I haven't seen you in ages"

Y/N grinned at his overreaction, this was so typical of him that it even made her feel at home. But honestly, it hasn't been that long, probably just... Two months.

"Are you back in town? Please tell me you're back in town"

"Yes, I'm back in town Klaus, I was planning to call you tomorrow actually" Y/N chuckled.

This put an even bigger smile on the man's face. For some minutes they just sat outside of the club and talked about what happened in their lives in the past months, Y/N realized that she also missed him dearly. She didn't have so many people she could talk this carelessly with, or any at all.

After some minutes, she decided to ask him the question that was swimming in her head. "Are you okay Klaus? You seem a little on edge"

His eyes met hers and he saw her genuine concern, so he told her the truth. "I conjured my dad"

Y/N's eyes widened once again. Yes, she knew all about his family and his powers, and she saw about his father's death on the news. But she also knew that he hasn't conjured anyone in years, so that was a surprise. "What?"

"Listen, I'll... I'll tell you everything he told me, god I'd be happy to" he gulped and fidgeted with his hands. "But not here, come with me to the Academy. It's comfier there" he smiled.

Y/N had never entered the Academy before, Mister Reggie would probably despise her so she kept her distance. But since he wasn't around anymore, she didn't see much of a problem. So she reluctantly agreed and left with him.

_________

They stayed up all night, talking in the big living room, drinking some glasses of wine here and there. And Klaus told her everything. He told her about Dave while he cried and she held him close. He told her about the apocalypse that was coming, and as much as she didn't want to believe him, she saw the sad sincerity in his eyes. That one specific part she took a couple of minutes to process, but he promised her they were working on stopping it. And at last, he told her everything his father said to him.

They only noticed that it was already morning when the rays os sunlight seeped through the windows.

"Hey, do you wanna head down to the kitchen and make some coffee? I gotta wake my siblings and tell them the big news" he asked while he got up from the couch and stretched.

"Of course but, your siblings don't know me, Klaus..." Y/N smiled hesitantly, looking up at him with her head resting on her hand.

"Ah don't worry about them, they're gonna love you. Just like I do" he waved her worries off and headed upstairs.

Y/N sighed and rubbed her eyes. She had to admit she was a little nervous, from what Klaus had told her, his siblings were nothing like him and she honestly wasn't expecting to meet them anytime soon. Especially now that apparently their missed sibling was back and for some reason that Klaus failed to explain to her, he was her age, but very grumpy. Klaus's words, not hers.

Yet here she was, about to make them coffee. In the kitchen that she was supposed to find in this immense house. Just great.

After she spent more time than she would like to admit looking for the kitchen, she was finally able to brew the coffee in peace. But at least while looking for said kitchen, she was able to take a look at the house. It was huge, every part of it was filled with decorations that were probably worth more than everything she's ever owned in her life, but nonetheless, it was beautiful. Plus Y/N was lucky she didn't run into anybody yet.

"Alright the big man is finally here, Y/N is that coffee ready yet?" Klaus barged into the kitchen followed by a huge man, too huge. Y/N even felt a little intimidated. The big man's eyes soon landed on the new girl awkwardly standing in the kitchen while he sat in one of the chairs.

"Hi I'm-" Y/N was about to introduce herself when Klaus put an arm around her shoulders and cut her off.

"This little thing is Y/N, she's my friend" Klaus had a pleased smile on his face while he held Y/N to him.

"Hey, I'm Luther" the big man mumbled his name, he was clearly very hungover.

Y/N was about to sit on a chair but Klaus stopped her once again. "Oh, Ben is sitting there" he said while pouring Luther a cup of coffee. So the girl sat in the chair in front of Luther, looking at the seemingly empty chair beside her and whispering "Hey Ben, how've you been?".

Her kind smile made Ben smile as well. "I'm good Y/N, I missed you" sadly she couldn't hear him, but her smile didn't leave her face for a while, which made Ben's heart feel a little alive again.

All too suddenly another boy appeared and took Luther's coffee cup from his hand. Judging by his age and appearance Y/N presumed this was their missing brother that was now back. He was wearing a blue set of pajamas and honestly, he was quite... Cute. An opinion Y/N would never let Klaus know, otherwise she would never hear the end of it.

"Jesus, who do I gotta kill to get a decent cup of coffee?" His snarky comment made Y/N raise an eyebrow at him and a small smirk make it's way to her face. But it soon disappeared when the boy's eyes finally found her's. His gaze was serious like she was a complex math problem he was desperately trying to solve.

"And who are you supposed to be?" He asked without taking his eyes off of her.

"I'm Y/N, a friend of Klaus" She gave him a small wave of her hand, but his serious expression still hasn't dissipated. He just took another sip of his coffee and said "Five".

She supposed this was his name, giving that all the other siblings seemed to have actual names instead of their numbers it was a bit odd. But she decided to not ask about it.

"Don't worry guys she's already all caught up in the apocalypse business so she's here to help" Klaus voice made yours and Five's head turn to his direction.

"Help?"

"What?"

Y/N and Five said at the same time. Which made them both look at each other for a second before Y/N spoke again. "You didn't say anything about me helping stop a fucking apocalypse, Klaus. I mean, I will but... A warning would have been nice" she mumbled the last part, bringing her eyes down to her hands to process her new task, apparently. Of course she would help them in any way she could. But she wasn't like them, she was just... Normal.

"You can't just run around telling all of your friends about the apocalypse Klaus" Five scolded him.

"Hey for the record Y/N is like a little sister to me alright? And also she already knows everything about our weird family, the more help the better right? So you're welcome" Klaus said back at him waving his spatula around. Five didn't look totally convinced, but he didn't say anything else, just shot another glance to Y/N's direction.

"Can we get started please?" Luther finally talked again.

And so Klaus finally started to talk about what happened last night, which was the reason that everyone was here in the first place. His siblings didn't seem to believe that he was able to conjure his dad until a monkey showed up and confirmed his story. He was so adorable that Y/N had the sudden urge to give him a hug, but she stayed on her chair in silence. She wasn't surprised when he confirmed that their father had actually killed himself apparently just to bring their family together. There are probably easier ways to schedule a family reunion, but she wasn't one to judge.

Luther was the first one to leave, he seemed pretty annoyed with all of this, and Y/N couldn't blame him.

Five risked another glance up towards the new girl, she was mindlessly playing with a spoon on the table. He wondered how she ended up with Klaus, maybe someday he can ask her. She looked innocent, fairly happy, and despite Klaus saying she already knew all about his family's weirdness, he had no desire to put her in unnecessary danger. But now was probably too late.

When her eyes rose up and met his, he felt uneasy. He felt an unfamiliar sensation inside his stomach and he didn't like it one bit. So he ran his hands through his hair, said "I gotta think" and in a flash of blue, he was gone.

Leaving only Y/N and Klaus (And Ben) in the kitchen.

***

Thank you for reading ♥ the next part should be out soon. And as I said, if you have any idea about how this story should progress or anything you would like to see in it, please send me an ask or message and I'd be happy to include it. ♥

#five hargreeves #five x reader #the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves x reader #five x you #imagine #fluff #angst #slow burn #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #number five #number five x reader #anchor #fanfic #my edit #my story

336 notes · View notes

bard-llama · 3 years

Text

The Taint of the Common Man (Meve/Reynard/Gascon)

Okay, so I finally tried to play Thronebreaker again and it turned out that my comptuer/steam/whatever had actually kept my save!!! So I didn’t have to start over, which was good, because the beginning was kinda boring, which is why it took me so long to continue. But it’s also kinda bad, because now I do not remember anything about Gascon’s introduction beyond “they fought, Meve won and threatened to hang him next time”. Which like... I could probably make it work, but knowing the details seems important for writing Meve’s feelings and reactions to Gascon.

Anyway, this is a continuation of the thoughts that this lovely post inspired, and because I’m me, those thoughts grew a plot. Both the link and the rest of the story involve a VERY dubcon/noncon premise, so please engage only if you can. Also, spoilers for Chapter 1 of Thronebreaker (aka major plot things that happen once you reach Lyria’s capital).

Okay, once again: HUGE WARNING for Dubcon/Noncon stuff. Like, it’s how the story starts and it’s gonna be something dealt with through the whole story. My idea is basically a story that starts with Meve losing EVERYTHING, and then, through her quest to reclaim her throne, she learns how to be a better queen to ALL of her people, not just the noblemen. End game is intended to be Meve/Reynard/Gascon, but tbh, idk how they get there. Like, at first, Meve and Reynard hate Gascon A LOT, so they have to learn to love him and that takes time.

I’m kinda still learning about these characters as I think this through, so apologies if you find them ooc or if I contradict canon (without meaning to. Sometimes i do it gladly lol)

So we start with Meve returning to the Lyrian castle, only to find that her son and the Council of Peers (read: ruling council that advises the monarch and consists entirely of peerage aka nobility) have betrayed her and surrendered to Nilfgaard. She’s thrown in a dungeon and though her son orders that she is not to be harmed, she knows enough about reality to know they’d never let her live.

She’s on guard, waiting for the guards to come and kill her - only when footsteps approach, it’s not the guards at all, but the fucking Duke of Dogs, the leader of the Strays of Spalla, a gang of bandits that plague merchant caravans and noblemen alike. Gascon, the proclaimed Duke of Dogs, opens the cell door and steps in and tells Meve that he’s freeing her, because the Council of Peers used him and his men and he can’t abide betrayal. But there’s one condition - Meve has to ask him, all nice and polite-like.

Meve, of course, refuses, because she’s nothing if not prideful. So Gascon closes the cell door and leans back against it and says something like, “guess we won’t be leaving, then. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to do something else on your knees,” or some sort of implication like that that makes it clear he’s suggesting that she blow him in exchange for release. And Meve is furious and her pride cuts at her, but dammit, she has no hope of freeing Lyria from Nilfgaard’s grasp while stuck in here. So she goes to her knees. And Gascon is surprised - from his view, she could’ve just begged him??? - but like... the QUEEN is on her KNEES for HIM, a (decidedly un)common bandit who she’d threatened to hang not a week prior.

Also, I think there’s also a part of Gascon that blames Meve for the massacre of his family. According to the wiki, the year before King Reginald (Meve’s husband) died, Gascon’s family revolted against the king and were soundly squashed, with Gascon at a mere 8 years old the only one to survive. From there, he fell in with the Strays of Spalla and eventually became their leader. Remember this bit, ‘cause I’m definitely gonna come back to it. But anyway, Gascon doesn’t like Meve. He’s doing this because it’s the right thing to do and a little because having the queen indebted to him feels awfully good. Also, Meve is good with her mouth.

So good, in fact, that she drives him crazy, taking him to the edge and teasing him and teasing him and teasing him until his legs are shaking and the cell door is all that’s holding him up. I don’t think he actually begs, because his men are around the cell watching this, but he has to bite his lip hard to keep from doing so.

For Meve, there are many complicated feelings happening. On the one hand, this is humiliating and degrading and it’s shameful that she’s fallen so far as to be forced to service a fucking bandit and even worse that his men are SEEING this happen.

On the other hand... look, Meve was widowed 8 years ago. Somewhere in there (or before?), she comes to love and trust Reynard - who her husband, upon his deathbed, told her that he alone could be trusted. But she hasn’t made a move, because it wouldn’t be appropriate and she doesn’t want to ruin things between them.

Point is, it’s been 8 years since she’s had sex and she has had cause to desire some sex. Queens can probably get amazing sex toys, but like, an actual cock? it’s been AGES since she’s been able to play with one and she kind of missed it.

Additionally, in an effort to combat her shame and humiliation, she decides to flip the script on them. Gascon wants her to blow him? Fine, she’ll blow him so well that he utterly falls apart. And maybe she’s a little of practice, but Gascon is young anyway, he probably doesn’t even know better lmao. (But later, she’s oddly grateful that she had this chance for ‘practice’ before it actually mattered)

Eventually, she lets Gascon come - or maybe he uses his grip on her hair to pull her onto him? (She may decide to make it a good blowjob, but that doesn’t mean he’s earned deepthroating) - and the Strays, who have gone from hooting and hollering over the queen’s humiliation to flushed and aroused at the skillful way she destroyed their boss, let them out of the cell.

Next, they go to the city jail to release Reynard, who was arrested as soon as the coup happened because everyone knows that Reynard’s loyalty to the crown is absolute. Reynard is sitting against the wall and he smiles brightly at the sight of her, so Meve strides into the cell to unshackle him. So of course Gascon, who now stands in front of the door once more, suggests something like, “such faithful loyalty deserves ample reward, does it not?”

And Meve is conflicted. Because AGAIN, the Strays of Spalla are watching them and Gascon is trying elicit sexual favours from her. But also, it’s Reynard. She’s wondered for so long what Reynard’s cock would be like and how he would treat her. And, she justifies to herself, she was already forced to give a piece of filth like Gascon a blowjob. Reynard most certainly deserved better.

So she orders him to stand and goes to her knees and is almost eager to get him in her mouth. And Reynard is caught entirely off guard here, because he was ready to skewer Gascon for the mere suggestion, and then she’s ACTUALLY DOING IT!!! And it’s not like she’s alone in having thought about it, but he always assumed that he would be the one on his knees. So for her to do so... he’s awed and a little horrified that he is party to degrading his queen in this way. And also aroused. REALLY fucking aroused, because Meve is on her knees for him! And unlike Gascon, he has earned deepthroating. Fortunately, he’s already leaning against the wall, so he doesn’t collapse.

If Gascon hadn’t had the most intense orgasm of his life like 10 minutes previously, he’d definitely try to see if he could join in, even though they really don’t have the time for that sort of thing. But suffice it to say, Gascon remembers each and every moment Meve spent on her knees vividly.

Reynard comes (and Gascon is reluctantly pleased to have a companion in the wait-you-want-me-to-fight-after-how-hard-I-came!? club) and they all leave the dungeons - and get found by a patrol of guards. They have to fight their way out and Meve thinks Gascon managed to slip away - right up until he comes to their aid with his whole crew. With Gascon’s help, their motley crew flees the capital of Lyria (largely by traveling thru the sewers).

That night, they set up camp somewhere and instead of the royal supplies she’s used to, all they have is whatever the Strays of Spalla had, which means stolen and/or threadbare, ‘cause they’re not exactly living the high life. And Meve knows she should get some rest, but she can’t stop thinking about what happened in the prison(s) and she decides that, as long as Reynard was willing, why shouldn’t she pursue the man she loved?

So she goes to the mess tent and it’s predictably full of drunken soldiers - well, drunken warriors. This rabble didn’t deserve to be called soldiers - and clusters of people playing dice and cards. She spots Reynard at one of the card tables - but sitting across from him is none other than the motherfucking Duke of Dogs. Half-formed plans to kiss Reynard drown under the flood of fury she feels and she summons Reynard to her, ignoring Gascon, who definitely tries to flirt with her. At this moment, she has VERY conflicted feelings about Gascon and most of them are negative. But also, they need him. She is very much aware that his men are the only reason she has any chance at all of taking back her home.

Anyway, Meve confronts Reynard, who explains that he doesn’t trust Gascon as far as he can throw him and whatever mischief Gascon is up to, whatever he thinks he can gain from helping them, Reynard is ready for the doublecross. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer is very much his philosophy, compounded by the way he has learned not to reveal - well, much at all. People probably find him very... is softspoken the word? Not like he speaks soft, but like, he doesn’t say a lot. He learned to keep his mouth shut after he managed to survive insulting the king, so he plays things pretty close to his chest and people find it hard to guess what he’s thinking.

Gascon, for his part, is helping Meve because it’s the right thing to do (and a little because again, queen indebted to you? Very handy). He’s probably aware that Reynard doesn’t like him, even if Reynard acts friendly enough? Like, literally Reynard is so loyal to Meve that he was imprisoned and she was sure of his fealty. And Gascon has found ways to rationalize what he did i.e. raping Meve - she could’ve just begged! She had a choice! - but even though Reynard got a blowjob out of it, I’m sure Gascon would assume that Reynard would want him dead for the blowjob that he got.

I don’t precisely know what Reynard and Gascon’s relationship is like during this, tbh. I think it’ll be Meve’s POV, so she may have a limited view, but I think it’s definitely complicated. Made worse, of course, by both Meve and Reynard beginning to see the redeeming qualities in Gascon. But that comes later.

For now, Meve accepts Reynard’s explanation and knowing that he would do anything to protect her soothes some of the ruffled feathers from a very trying day. So she decides to subtly ask him something like, “come to my tent?” that like, isn’t blatant ‘cause they’re surrounded by drunk men, but also is pretty clear. And Reynard’s eyes widen and it hurts so much to do, but he tells her no. She’s had an intense fucking day - betrayed by her son and court, imprisoned, forced to give multiple blowjobs and work with lowly bandits and shit. Like, she’s been through a lot and he knows that she’s not able to be in her right mind. So he says no, part of him hoping that if she actually means it, she’ll try again in the morning.

But what Meve hears is no, not interested. Which makes this the third time today that she gets to be humiliated in front of the fucking Strays of Spalla, because not only is the man she loves rejecting her, but like... is he rejecting her because she’s tainted now? How is she supposed to interpret him enjoying a blowjob from her one hour and rejecting her advances the next?

And the taint... I think that’ll be a theme in this fic (thus the title). Like, at the height of her power before the fall, Meve was “pure” - which in this case means firmly assured that she was right in everything, as she was always destined to be. There’s no questioning of the world order or if she’s qualified to lead. She simply knows that she is.

But now she’s been betrayed, her nobility and her title ripped from her grasp. And not only that, but she’s demeaned herself with a common thug! She even says it in the game - “look how far we’ve fallen, to be surrounded by peasants and deserters and bandits”. For her, this entire situation is almost like “being common” is reaching for her, trying to pull her in, and she wants to resist, because she’s always been taught that the nobles are BETTER than the common people. But as she works with her army of thugs and commoners, she starts to learn that poor people are people too (gee, who’da thunk it?)

That journey takes time, though, and we’re barely at the start of it!

So, Meve gets rejected. She’s hurt and humiliated and at the moment doesn’t have a kind word for ANYBODY. She maybe cries herself to sleep and hates herself for being weak.

Then morning comes and she has her regular strategy meeting with Reynard, as she did every morning. And it’s awkward and Reynard is as silent as usual, always so deliberate about every word that leaves his mouth. And she wants to ask, but yesterday’s humiliation was enough. She can’t repeat it.

So even though they SHOULD’VE gotten together, they fail to, because Meve is stubborn and prideful and Reynard is closelipped and proper. And Meve kind of hates even the sight of Gascon, but since he IS the leader of the army that is currently only at her disposal because of him, she invites him to join the strategy meetings every morning. If Gascon helps provide a buffer between her and Reynard, so much the better.

Okay, I don’t actually know how everyone ACTUALLY gets together, BUT as they travel through the countryside of Lyria towards the Aedirnian border, a couple of important things happen.

1) Meve sees the real conditions of the people living in her realm. Even in areas that the lords had reported prosperous, people were starving and dying. She starts to learn that these are her people too.

2) Meve and Reynard get to know Gascon. Not just over their strategy meetings, but as they observe him and the Strays of Spalla they (Meve especially) begin to realize that their judgements were all wrong. Because yes, the Strays of Spalla are bandits. They steal from wealthy merchants and even wealthier nobles. That had always been enough to know before.

But now they come to know that that stolen food and blankets and supplies and coin went to the starving peasants in these lands. Hell, most of the Strays are from these areas. These are their people, even if Meve hasn’t figured out that they’re hers too.

Anyway, idk how they get together or how the story ends - is it with them getting together? Getting to Vengerberg to ask for help to reclaim their home? Ousting Villem and taking Lyria back? idk, I haven’t even gotten that far in the game yet lol.

So yeah, here’s a very long synopsis of a story that manages to have almost no porn and lots of angst, despite being inspired by a purely porny post lmao.

#meve x reynard #meve x reynard x gascon #thronebreaker #the witcher #fic planning #dubcon

19 notes · View notes

alfredosauce50 · 3 years

Text

Island Escapade [Ex-con 2p! America x reader x Denmark] 10

Island Escapade - 10 - Swimming pools Content warning: A little soft-core. Dubious consent. Mature audiences only. Wordcount: 2, 510 The reader is referred to as she/her.

A/N: I was inspired by Kendrick Lamar’s “Swimming pools”

Allen could drink like it was his job. But throughout the whole of his career, he’d never felt this nauseous. The skidding of the boat, the churn in his stomach, watching you and Mathias—it was all too much. Thanks to the dim light on board, he could see everything as clear as day during the night. You were half-awake on the Dane’s lap, fighting to stay in control of your body with seven shots’ worth of alcohol in your system. Poor thing.

Mathias was talking about taking you back to his house, even. Something about tablets. Medicine. If anything, going to his place was the last thing you wanted. Allen knew that much.

And yet, he couldn’t find the motivation to do anything about it. Not while his head was filled with hot water, leaving his mind in a haze. Alcohol was his weakness, and he never dropped the habit of making bad decisions under the influence.

Just as he thought, he was still the same.

When the boat finally docked at the wharf, he never lifted a finger when Mathias carried you off. He wasn’t walking in the direction of your house either. And yet, all Allen did was stand on the beach, mulling over the heat that overwhelmed his body. A searing headache was pounding in his skull, but it didn’t quite hurt like the ache in his chest.

He was giving up again. After trying so hard to get his shit together, he was giving up again.

It wasn’t the first time, so why was he crying?

He’d seen the look in your eyes. The way you stared at him like he was the best thing in the world. It was hard to believe, but deep down, he knew Mathias wasn’t the only one. The only difference was that you trusted him. You trusted Allen. You wanted to be with him. But he was letting you go, letting you down all over again, letting Mathias become the one thing he wanted to be. Yours.

I think that I'm feelin' the vibe, I see the love in her eyes I see the feelin', the freedom is granted As soon as the damage of vodka arrive

After giving you some water, bread, and crackers, you eventually felt well enough to move on your own. A shower was in order after a night out in the club, but he wasn't entertaining the idea of any drunken accidents. So while you adjusted the temperature, he joined you in the cubicle. "You should've brought me with you if you were gonna drink," Mathias began, coiling two arms around your stomach.

"He doesn't know how much you can handle."

Pressing flush against you only made your heart pound like a drum. You could feel everything, from his wide chest and toned stomach to the space between his legs. This wasn't happening. "... I know my own limits, Mat. So maybe I wanted to get hammered," You murmured, tugging at his arms for him to let go. "It's fine. Allen's fine. He was looking after me before you came."

He released you, albeit reluctantly. "You're upset." His wet hair was slicked back, and steady streams of water were trailing down his face as he watched your frustrated expression. "Why?"

"Why?" You turned to him, in awe at how dense he was. It was becoming hard to believe it was just cluelessness. Entitlement sounded more like it. "Because I'm in the shower with you, that's why!" Mathias's eyes widened as you rose your voice. You shot an arm out to gesture at his crotch, but you really weren't much of an exception.

"I can see your dick, Mat. Don't you see anything wrong with this picture?"

He stared down at himself. When he glanced back up, it became clear to you he didn't—his stare on you was hard and unwilling. "... I'm just... I'm just trying to look after you. Can't I do that?" He responded, earning a huff from you. His deep frown spoke of untold regret, and you were sick of seeing it.

"You keep saying that, but you're pushing it. You could've stayed outside." Turning around to get some body wash into your hand, you lathered it all over your body. "Why are you so weird? Why am I so weird? Why am I even—" When you spun back around, your cheeks were flushed with a deep red. Whether it was from the alcohol or something else, Mathias didn't know.

"—why am I letting you do this?"

Deep creases formed between his brows. He knew the exact answer to that question, but he was too afraid to say it. "... I don't know."

"Yes, you do. You know everything. You just pretend that you don't." Digging a finger into his chest, you watched distress run across his face. If you were sober, you wouldn't even be saying these things. But the truth was finally stepping into the light, raw and unfiltered in the form of a drunken ramble. And you were onto him. "You knew what you were doing. Living with me, sleeping with me, it was all part of your little game to get me back. Well, guess what?"

Mathias's chest was rising and falling intensely at this point. While he breathed heavily, his heart was racing, threatening to burst out of his ribs. He could already predict what you were about to say, and yet, he was insanely nervous to hear it. "... What?"

"It’s working." Blood flushed his face until he was even redder than you—excitement, euphoria, love-sickness, it was all there. His eyes lit up with the most happiness you’ve seen him with, which spoke volumes when he was already a cheerful person. Was this it? Were you finally accepting him again? Not yet. "But if you think you won me over, you’ve jumped the gun. I’m not staying here. I need to get home."

You turned your back on him to keep washing. A deep pout scrunched up his face while he was left standing in a cloud of steam, heating up faster than the water from the showerhead. It’s working, you’d said. Lingering on the words made him burn up with lust so potent, he was left reeling. This was the part where he’d convince you to give in. Like every time you both got into a disagreement, he’d kiss you drunk and take you to bed to make up.

It was the oldest trick in the book, and it worked every time. No wonder he was getting hard. His body sensed what was happening. His mind just picked up on it a little later. And he’d act on it once you were both done with the shower.

"I'll walk you back," Mathias murmured by the doorway. He watched you gather the last of your things in the living room. He'd spent so long at your place, he couldn't bear the sight of you walking out on him. Not again. It became apparent that sleeping alone in his own house wasn't an option. "But can I ask for one last thing?"

There was a subtle droop to his eyes. His hands were by his side, clenched in fists, and his frown was growing deeper at every second you failed to say anything—your breath hitched as you forced the word out. "... Yeah?" One last things never ended well with someone like Mathias. You knew that better than anyone. But the thought never occurred to your intoxicated self.

You just wanted him to stop looking at you like this.

"Can I kiss you?" He took your wrist and held it gently. "Just once."

It wasn't desire he sparked. Rather, it was a harrowing kind of bittersweetness that made your chest tighten up. And so, a deafening silence followed, but only because it was so loud. He had you again, and you weren't pushing him away. Instead, you did something free from your better judgment, which was long burned away by alcohol.

You reached up to his face, giving him the green light. So he leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours. The force was enough to move your head back, so when he pulled away, your lips seemed to follow his. Led on by nothing but an ache that never went away, one kiss turned into two, then three, then a heated lip-lock you couldn't remove yourself from. And Mathias knew.

It was a sin in itself to keep going, but the thought merely got his blood pumping. Without parting, he picked you up and carried you to the bedroom. There on his bed, he pulled you onto his lap. Then, he kissed you until you'd have the taste of his mouth ingrained in your brain. You were breathless the whole time. And yet, the heavy panting never broke the thick ropes of saliva draping between your tongues.

He never let you get the air you desperately needed, let alone the chance to think. Mathias wanted you to lose yourself. He wanted you to feel the same hot yearning that had him in a chokehold.

He wanted you to make the same mistakes as you did in the past.

When you wrapped your arms around his strong neck, it became clear he was getting what he wanted. History was about to be repeated, and it would start with the growing tent in his boxers. If you didn't snap out of it soon, he'd have you naked in his bed and under him before you knew it. And to make up for all the time lost, a year's worth of it, a few hours of love-making wouldn't suffice.

"Just stay the night, eskler," Mathias whispered in your ear. "I miss you."

Having sex with him all night sounded more like it.

Breaking up with him would be history, and you'd be back to square one. Back to letting him do what he wanted, so long as he could put his hands on you. The man was a sex fiend. A bigger one than what Allen could ever be. And you were so foolish to not see it sooner.

Back in your house, Allen was raiding the fridge for anything to offset against the wooziness. He hated tearing through carbs so carelessly like this, but at least he wouldn't feel like complete shit. After scoffing down a packet of biscuits, he sauntered to his room and tried to take his mind off things. He never thought he'd willingly open Animal Crossing on your switch, but the cutesiness of it all made it worth a shot.

However, the longer he kept playing, the worse he felt.

Some island living he was going through. If only reality made it a permanent escape like the game did. In a month's time, he'd be out of here. The R and R he indulged in was about to end on a depressing note, and he'd be back to being a bum. What about you? Probably seeing Mathias again. He practically gagged at the thought. The sick churning in his stomach returned like an old friend, and it never stopped as he lingered on the earlier events that night.

But when he remembered what you told him, he had to hold himself back from vomiting on the spot.

Mathias loves kids, you'd said. And you know how selfish he can get.

That's why I had to break things off.

Allen paled with terror. What had he done? But the real concern wasn't that—it was what he failed to do.

He turned off the switch and scrambled outside. With nothing but a torch in hand, he ventured out into the dark, searching for a house he'd never been to. He didn't know what it looked like, but that never slowed him down. In fact, he ran even faster, tearing through the island like a madman to get to you. This was his last chance at redemption, his last chance at being there for you when you needed it. All the self-doubt had been staved off by this bout of desperation.

He could sulk later. For now, he needed to get to you.

Half an hour went by in fearful anticipation. He went house by house until he arrived at his destination. Without bothering to knock, he broke into one of the windows with his expert lock-picking skills. Allen didn't have time to worry about morals. Not that he stopped to second-guess anything. Not with you in mind. He just hoped he wasn't too late.

Rapid footsteps thudded down the hall, slowing Mathias' movements to a stop. He had his fingers looped around the side of your underwear, and he would've pulled it down if it weren't for what he heard. Before he could register the intruder as the resident ex-con, his damnation and your salvation, they slammed the door open. In stormed Allen, looking like Hell.

When he saw Mathias hovering over you, half-dressed and dazed beyond compare, something inside him snapped. Marching over to rip the man off of you, he threw a hard punch right across his jaw. "That's for beating me up for no reason," He hissed, pulling his hand back for another strong strike. "And that's—" Allen pounded his fist into his face, again and again, driven by a fury so hot, he had to wonder if he'd gone insane. "—for taking advantage of her!"

He was never satisfied until Mathias fell unconscious. Giving his hand a brief shake to get rid of the blood, he cast a softened gaze over your limp form. Immediately, his anger simmered down. You were okay. A little fucked up, but okay. Scooping you up under your back and legs, he carried you all the way home. While he did, you never let go of his neck. After tonight's fiasco, you've never been so calm. The smell of his cologne, the clinking of his dog tags, you couldn't mistake it for anyone else. And it was all you needed for a good night's sleep.

Needless to say, Mathias wasn't allowed in your house anymore. After getting beat up like that, he learned his lesson and backed off. Allen did call himself a criminal, and Mathias got exactly what he paid for.

It was just you and Allen again, spending every minute of the day together for the rest of his sentence. There wasn't much time left, so you needed to make the most of what you had. And on one of those days, you hoped to remind him how much you adored him. But at each passing day running across the burning hot sand and wading through warm waters, the adoration seemed to swell into something greater.

He was abnormal in every way he could be—from his personality to his looks—but the idea of being more than friends gave you hope that you could be normal too. That you could finally move on. Allen didn't have many aspirations in life, but he was beginning to look more and more like the answer to your future.

#hetalia x reader #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #country x reader #aph denmark #denmark x reader #hws denmark #2p america #2p america x reader #2p! america x reader #2p!america #2p!america x reader #allen jones #island escapade #alfredosauce50 #hetalia axis powers #axis powers hetalia #axis powers ヘタリア

18 notes · View notes

octalove · 4 years

Text

The Menu

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Reader has been looking for Red Hood for months. A small risk takes her right to him- but it’s not what she expects.

TW: Light description of gore.

“Nothing?” I asked, surprising myself at how nervous I sounded.

“Nothing yet, Batgirl.” I twisted my lip. I know Oracle didn’t resent me for taking up the mantle- we’d talked about it. Several times. Long talks, over coffee and finger sandwiches. She was proud of me, and I of her, and that was that. But a sort of guilt had settled too deeply to be wiped away, as I now wore the bat on my chest, and she wore a headset in its absence.

“He’s good at this, you know. Don’t be surprised if we don’t catch him red handed.” If Nightwing hadn’t sounded so serious, I would’ve thought it was a purposeful pun.

Honestly, though, I wasn’t expecting to catch him. Red Hood had eluded us for months while simultaneously managing to usurp the entirety of Gotham’s underground in a matter of half a year. Anyone that wasn’t under his thumb was chained to concrete at the bottom of Cape Carmine. All except us.

The man himself was evasive, but his goons were anywhere crime was- that was to say, everywhere. Two nights previous, we‘d run into some- Nightwing, Red Robin and I. We were doing well, naturally, but somewhere along the way, a man abiding prison rules had slammed his balled fist into my temple, and taking advantage of my disorientation, had pinned me on the cold warehouse floor and growled vulgar things into my face. Only a moment, before Red Robin speared his dull-end staff into the man’s sternum, taking his breath along with his ability to speak. He’d never admit it was for the sake of poetic justice.

Tonight, it was dark. I felt something, stirring, like the fight had knocked something off the shelf within me. Batman called it instincts- said I had strong ones, but somehow in between praises never managed to trust them the way I did. We were in Otisburg- location of the last reported sighting of our slippery, red-helmed target. Of course, I knew he was long gone, if he had really been spotted at all. We were watching empty streets, and I felt fervid restlessness trembling beneath my skin at the idea of that. I let dead air pass for a while. Quiet. Peace.

Finally, I stood. They wouldn’t notice if I went dark for a moment; I was similar to Batman in that regard. Contrast to him, however, I trusted my instincts, where he didn’t. And my instincts were telling me to slip away from Otisburg before he could stop me.

Nowhere in the north was there a place so dark and venomous as Gotham- and nowhere in Gotham was there a place so evident of this fact as Crime Alley. Nestled in the concave ruins of an old slum district, an unsavory black dread had settled in every street corner, juxtaposed, not complimented, by the titian and auburn neon lights burning of the bars and strip clubs. A smokescreen of choking smog evoked the feeling of being watched, and the scent was even heavier than that of the smoky ports. A slow, swaying song played from a radio in the warehouse, broken occasionally by a radio host’s grim report of politics or the death of someone no one seemed to know, or care about. A few men sat around, some paced, gripping their weapons. None looked completely relaxed. They were inconspicuous, henchmen that could’ve belonged to anyone. But they didn’t belong to just anyone. I watched for a minute, draped in the deep shadows of the exposed rafters.

He was the worst of them. I’d seen the crime scenes he left behind. Yellow tape usually prepared me for anything- expect the worst, that’s what Nightwing said. Expect the worst thing you can imagine, and you’ll usually find it’s at least not that horrible. Red Hood always managed to exceed the expectation. Do things beyond what I was capable of imagining. Human flaying, blood let corpses, decapitated heads with the teeth pulled out, scalping with dull blades. Gouged eyes and hastily extracted entrails. To those he deemed worthy of some modicum of mercy, two bullets sufficed. Those he didn’t want found never were. I’d only ever seen him from afar- or in pictures and security footage.

His footfall was heavy- weighed down with armor and his myriad of deadly weapons. Nothing about the way he walked seemed hesitant or unsure. I wondered if he was well-planned and methodical, or let a natural aptitude for improv carry him.

“Good evening, gentlemen.” He muttered, voice scrambler sharpening the sound.

“Red Hood, Sir.” One of the men returned acknowledgement. He inspected a gadget of his for a minute; it was obscured from my hiding spot.

“Hey, I got a question,” Despite the chilling robotic drag of his helmet, his voice had a distinct northern lilt. Of course, Batman had already deduced that he was probably a local. “Where the hell’s Hoffman? He fought the bats a couple nights ago, yeah?”

“Uh- yes, Sir. He’s over there.” Something told me Red Hood already knew he was over there. A man pulled himself from the shadows. Familiar face. I knew it well. I’d gotten a good look when it had been a couple of inches from mine.

“Red Hood, Sir.” He said, glancing around. God, he looked just like a child who’d been called into his parents room with no idea of what to expect. Red leaned back against a car that didn’t appear to be in operating condition.

“Heard you got it pretty bad.” He said, tone mystifyingly even. Hoffman shrugged, rubbing at his chest.

“I also heard you managed to get little Batgirl on the ground.” He said. This was followed by a jagged laugh. “I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in ya, Hoffy.”

Hoffman relaxed a little, and the first man grinned, clapping him on the back. I scowled, feeling gross. I wondered how many other people heard what had happened to little Batgirl. I wanted to go home and shower. Again.

“Yeah, she’s feisty. But look at you- still in one piece.” Hoffman looked like he’d just won the county fair. Red straightened and sighed, brushing a bit of dust from his pants. “Unfortunately, not for long.”

A pistol disappeared from his holster and reappeared in his hand, and in a hair-trigger span of time, a bullet had gone through Hoffman’s stomach. He made a sickly grunting sound as he went backward, and downward. A panicked, involuntary shuddering yelp escaped him as his hands went to the wound.

“I don’t fucking like creeps.” Red sighed again, glancing around nonchalantly, as if he was pondering something. “You can fight Nightwing and his merry band of who-the-fuck-cares all you want. Hell, you can take it right to Batman if you’ve got some ambition in ya,” He pulled back the hammer, aiming it at Hoffman on the ground, who whimpered something that sounded like ‘please’.

“Batgirl,”

Bang.

“Is off.”

Bang.

“The fucking.”

Bang.

“Menu.”

Bang.

Stomach, kneecap, crotch, head. In that order. Blood seeped from the body, appearing black in the dim light. Thick as oil as it outlined his body like a moat, rippling with the still-twitching muscles. I’d forgotten how to breathe. Every wide pair of eyes in the warehouse followed him.

“Who else was there?” He asked. The first man sputtered, blood dotting his drained face.

“I- um- I don’t- Jimmy, I think. Jimmy Murillo. And Rufus Harding!”

He grunted. “Then I gotta go pay a couple visits.” He turned to leave, but before he did, his boots scuffed the rough cement, and he turned on his heel, gesturing at the man with his gun.

“Hey- just for professionalism’s sake- remind me again,” He tilted his head. “What’s Batgirl?”

The man swallowed dryly. “Off- off the menu, Red Hood, Sir.” Red chuckled and gave a satisfied nod.

“Good man.”

#batman #batfam #batfamily #red hood #jason todd #red hood x y/n #red hood x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #nightwing #dick grayson #batsis #batsis x batfamily #batgirl reader #batgirl #batsister #batfamily imagine #bruce wayne #oracle

319 notes · View notes

parkers-gal · 3 years

Text

cups

boomerang pt. iii

wc: 2k

warnings: very detailed anxiety attack

There’s two faucets, each with a cup under, catching the liquids. There’s one that flows consistently, one she drinks out of on the daily. The other comes out in drips, in which she sips from the cup rarely. Now, the rare cup is overflowing, so much that she can’t drink all of it. She’s drunk on it now, and she’s not sure where the end or the start is anymore. The other cup has stopped flowing all together. The once consistent flow that kept her thriving and hydrated was now barren and dry.

One would complain about how different the two beverages taste, one being bitter and sour and tart, the other sweet and honeyed and enjoyable. But not her. Maybe the whole point of having both is to keep them balanced. Maybe that’s where the fault line is, where the recurring problem always starts from. Maybe nobody is ever supposed to have too much of one beverage; perhaps it needs to be even, balanced, steady. One thing’s for sure, you’re always supposed to have both; never neither.

Y/N’s in a pickle. Out of the two of them, she wasn’t the actor. But now, pretending is her main task; something she must do everyday just to survive to the next. It starts at her friends house, the place she’d ran off to when things went crumbling down. To any outsider, the split wasn’t as drastic as others, though the pair didn’t exactly end on great terms, one would expect both to hold no grudges or remain satisfied. When they said the game of love was a battlefield, nobody ever told them it would be war.

She’s sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room. Despite the name, the room is anything but alive. It’s dead and cold and dull and unwelcoming. The welcome mat outside could even be considered click-bait, in Y/N’s opinion. But nobody had ever cared about Y/N’s opinions. Or her feelings. Or her thoughts or struggles or ideas or wishes. Because she’s the nurturer, the person other people turn to when they want to show insights of their lives. Y/N had never gotten the opportunity to do the same.

At one point, though, she thought she had found the person she could do that to. But of course, things went crashing down, the foundation crumbling and cracking until piles of rubble and concrete were left, dust wafting through the air and making her lungs burn.

Three weeks have passed, and by the middle of the fourth week, Harrison had told her about his accident with the car. She wanted to be there – as the person who sat with him in the ambulance, or the person who was driving the car – she wasn’t sure, but she knew she wanted to be there. She almost drove to the hospital; the keys were in her hand and the door was opened, but she had ultimately decided that he didn’t want her like he used to.

The heart does a lot to a human. Love is like blood, the source of living and anyone’s lifeline; you need it to survive, the heart needs it. That’s why the heart pumps it 24/7, flushes it through the body and asks the lungs for continuous support in doing so. Y/N used to be breathing heavily, panting as the love ran through her veins and pumped her heart, filling her soul and her skeleton. Now, she was lying on the floor in an empty void, bleeding out the love that once kept her alive. It’s ironic, how the thing you need is also the thing that gets you killed.

“Get up,” Aisha nudges Y/N with her foot. “get off the floor for once.”

Groaning, Y/N sat up, head rush flooding her skull as she rolled her eyes. “What?” she whined.

“Let’s go out tonight.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes,” Aisha cuts her short, standing up and reaching for Y/N’s hands to help her stand too. “You said you would; I’ve already promised the gang we’d be there.”

“Fine,” she grumbles, standing up and patting her thighs for any stray hairs or dirt.

“Go shower,” Aisha nudges her in the direction of the bathroom. “We can get ready on time for once.”

Y/N laughs with a nod, walking towards her room. Once her back is turned, the smile drops from her face and her hands cover her face as she rubs. Hopefully, makeup would cover up the luggage her eyes carry under them.

She’s wearing heels and an off-the-shoulder-top dress that’s shorter than anything she owns. Aisha called it “clubbing material,” when she bought it, so she knew this would suffice for the night and satisfy her friends’ requirements.

“Y/N?!” Aisha calls from the kitchen. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” she yells back. “Let me just grab my purse!”

Opening a drawer to grab her jewelry, she wears a necklace before grabbing her purse. She halts all of a sudden, practically tripping her own self as she looks at the handbag her fingers are encased around.

“Y/-!” Aisha walks through the door, two shot glasses in her hands, but she too stops and takes notice of what Y/N is doing. “Are you… okay?”

Y/N shakes her head wildly, dropping all thoughts as she gives Aisha a smile, reaching for one of the glasses as she leads the way out of the room.

Club hours extend on weekends. Friday’s run all through Saturdays, so the club is pretty wild when they arrive. There’s five of them, each wearing something equally sexy and stunning and powerful. Y/N wishes she could feel all of those things, but she pretends, for now. It’ll do.

“This way!” Jennie calls, grabbing Y/N’s hand as they move to a particular section of the dance floor, some of them already getting into the groove with the beat. Y/N laughs before moving her hips, joining them.

She dances for about fifteen minutes before a certain figure catches her attention. It’s not who she thinks it is, thankfully, but he is wearing a familiar hoodie, one she’s certain she had worn a copy of. The memories flood back quickly, and she stops her movements suddenly, trying to catch her breath.

“You good?” Aisha asks, a hand on the small of her back. Y/N nods, telling her something about needing a glass of water, and Aisha nods, coming with her. Hands linked, they make their way through the crowd of sweaty twenty-something-year-old’s before settling on two stools at the bar counter.

“What’ll it be this time, ladies?” Ciara, the barista, asks.

“Just a bit of h-two-oh,” Aisha says with a laugh, going on about some new store opening down the street. Ciara happily chats back, and Y/N is thankful for the free moment to distract her brain. Before she knows it, she’s sipping out of a glass cup and another figure sits in the vacant seat next to her. The girl – who’s wearing something Y/N would love to buy – is chatting with the fellow she saw earlier. Her perfume is so strong that Y/N can smell it from her spot, and the scent is so familiar that she recognizes it immediately.

Upon the realization, she stands up from the stool hastily, setting the glass on the counter before going back onto the dance floor – a different type of distraction. She doesn’t last long, though, because someone is changing the song for Karaoke Hour, and the runner up is some girl – and the song she’s chosen sends Y/N into a furry of more memories and nostalgia.

Her breaths get short, eyes unable to focus on one particular item, and she’s reaching her hands out for nothing in particular, reaching out because she’s been abandoned for so long.

“Are you alright?” Daniella asks, lightly holding her left arm, one that Y/N had accidentally swung into her stomach.

“What’s happening?” Aisha asks, coming over to the group, abandoning her spot at the bar.

“Y/N,” Daniella tries again.

There’s tears trickling down her face, mascara smudging in the most cliche way. Her breathing has picked up so much she’s practically hyperventilating now, and her heart is beating faster than a 365 GTB Ferrari. Sweat builds on her palms and her underarms, and she nearly trips while stumbling backwards, her heels sabotaging her ankles’ strength.

“Let’s take her out of here,” Aisha shouts over the music, and the four of them attempt to bring her outside of the club. The majority of Y/N’s weight is on the girls around her, and she’s internally grateful they’re not as oblivious as former friends.

They sit her down on a bench, one of them wrapping a jacket around her shoulders as Aisha talks softly to her, sending two of the girls inside to get another glass of water. Y/N gulps half the cup down on her first go, and her breathing calms down after ten minutes.

After five minutes of sitting on the bench in the calmest degree she could manage, Aisha tells the three of them to get the rest of their stuff and pay the tab while she calls for a taxi cab, and Y/N feels guilty for ruining their girls night out.

“We can talk when we get home- if you want, of course,” Aisha assures her.

When Y/N’s certain they’re alone, she rambles. “It was just- so much, the lights and t-the songs and my p-purse and the perfume and ja-jackets-”

“I know, baby, I know,” Aisha coos at her, pulling her into a hug before the rest of the girls come out, and they file into a cab, scents of alcohol lingering on them.

***

When Y/N wakes the next morning, there’s seven missed calls in her notification center. Four are from the girls (about last night), two from a colleague at work, and another from Harry. Unplugging her phone, she clicks on his number, the phone dialing.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice is raspy through the phone, and Y/N has a feeling she just woke him up.

“Hey,” she breathes into the phone. “You called?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Aisha told me about last night; ‘was just checking in.”

“Oh,” Y/N sighs. “Yeah.. I’m okay,” she whispers.

Harry hums in response, and a few beats pass before he speaks again. “Did you hear he punched me?”

“What?” Y/N laughs. “Yeah right-”

“No really. I had to go to the hospital to make sure my jaw wasn’t fractured.”

“Wow.”

“I know- what a fuckin’ twat.”

It’s Y/N’s turn to hum, and Harry just laughs, rubbing his jaw from the remaining aches.

“Are things… bad?” Y/N whispers again, afraid somebody might shame her for being curious, for being worried.

“Worse than they’ve ever been,” Harry says back quietly. “I know you were Tom’s, but everything is different over here. It’s like this piece of our lives is just gone, and everyone has to work around it now.”

Y/N sighs and looks down, phone still to her ear as she thinks about his words. “Yeah,” she whispers before wiping at her face. “I get it.”

“I don’t know if you do, though.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Do you honestly think you’re meant to be apart?”

“Harry,” Y/N says sternly with another sigh. “I just- we’ve talked about this already. I’m tired of being the one that doesn’t matter.”

“But you matter to me,” he says back. “And Harrison and Sam and Tuwaine and Paddy and-”

“But who’s the base of it all?” Harry doesn’t reply, so she asks again. “Why’re you a group?”

“Because of him,” Harry admits. “No, yeah, I know, I get it,” he sighs too. “I just.. miss my home.”

“It was home to you but hell to me.”

“I know. And I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel guilty about doing what’s best for yourself.”

“Don’t be,” Y/N rubs at her face. “It’s whatever.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

Y/N looks to the window, glancing at the rays of light and the green leaves, and she ponders the thought.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”

54 notes · View notes

fmdtaeyong · 3 years

Photo

three six wanted plots!

like this or message me if you think one could work for your muse!

EDIT: i added two more at the end!

friendship (or antagonistic?)

one. ash and this muse go way back. they debuted around the same time and met during crossing schedules. ash wasn’t one to make friends easily at the time, especially because he was younger than most others promoting, but somehow these two exchanged contact information and bonded. they’ve had some distant patches over the years, at least some in part because ash has grown increasingly flaky and hard to get a hold of over the years, but their friendship held on. ash always made sure to at least send them congratulations for new projects and comebacks, but lately he’s been missing even those. this muse has either had enough of his flakiness and obviously purposeful distancing or they’re worried, and they confront him.

requirements: debuted in the older generation of groups (lily, calypso, polaris, selene, or platinum)

friendship or intimate

two. ash and this muse have engaged in their more hedonistic vices together, perhaps partying/clubbing, alcohol/drugs, but they’ve never crossed any physical lines beyond friendship. one night, they come back to one of their houses inebriated after spending their night into the early mornings out partying and they share a heated kiss. they don’t go any further than that and simply end up falling asleep, but they’re left to wonder if it’s just another vice they’re both using each other for.

it could kinda go anywhere, though i currently envision it as something that’s part attraction, part unhealthy coping mechanism that gets a little fwb-y and they don’t angst over for too long, but they ultimately remain just friends, but we can work with wherever the platonic or romantic chemistry takes it.

requirements: born in 1999 or older, but the younger part of this age range would be dependent on how well the muse could click with ash / how much they have in common

intimate (or antagonistic?)

three. ash and this muse dated probably around 2018 during a period of time in which his on-off relationship with his ex was off. it seemed like it’d be a good relationship at first, but ash quickly made it difficult because he wouldn’t let them get too close emotionally, or his trust issues showed, or he was just hard to ever see because he insisted he was busy. the muse might have caught on that he seemed hung up on an ex. it eventually ended after a few months because of him and he got back with that pesky ex he was hung up on, but he really did like this person and feels bad about how it went to this day. he almost wants to ask for a second chance, but isn’t sure he’d be any better of a boyfriend today than he was then.

requirements: born in 1997 or older

antagonistic

four. this muse has had more than one encounter with ash where he’s come off as cold and distant at best and outright rude at worst. in truth, they’ve gotten unlucky enough to catch him on bad days (which, admittedly, he has a lot of sometimes). suffice to say, they don’t have the best impression of him and, to make matters worse, he doesn’t realize this. when they’re put in a situation where ash needs their help or they’re forced to cooperate (can be plotted depending on the muse), it makes the situation less than ideal and ash then gets a bad impression of them in return. in the end, they’re left both disliking each other without the full picture of why.

requirements: any, other than titan members

friendship

five. this muse has one of ash’s favorite voices, and they just so happen to be good friends that click musically as well. she’s become a frequent collaborator as a demo singer for many of his tracks that he can’t sing the demo of himself. they spend a lot of time in his studio where he’s most himself, and they’ve become closer through that. she’s one of the people that knows ash the best because of all of the time they’ve spent together since he became a serious producer. he pays her back in food, money, gifts, or however he can and has promised to make a song (or more) for her one day if she wants it.

requirements: a female vocal

friendship

six. ash hasn’t danced beyond what he’s required to in a few years. even before his injury, he had simply chosen to dedicate his time to other things. while on hiatus, he winds up at a dance studio one night for old time’s sake and runs into this muse. they wind up talking and even dance a little together. it’s the first time ash has really been able to enjoy dancing in years, and he has this muse to thank for it. ash returns a few times and ends up running into the same muse until it becomes a pattern and a blossoming friendship.

requirements: a dancer

#famedrstask3 #+5 ecp #// his intro is a work in progress

6 notes · View notes

omniswords · 3 years

Text

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 13

hey y'all. happy update. sorry i've been so quiet like... literally everywhere. it's been, a lot lately, as you can imagine. i'm doing my best on my end and i hope you are too. i'm coming back to things. slowly.

if you like, come give me a follow over on twitter where i’m more active, or on twitch where i’ve started streaming. (username is omnistruck for both, but i was afraid that linking would nix the post from the tags ;;)

hang in there.

29 July, La Tortue. You in?

Luka has been, quite frankly, working his ass off like he never has before.

Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. He remembers at least sort of working this hard to study for the bac, even if by most standards he nearly passed by the skin of his teeth. And he remembers at least sort of working this hard to find a paying job once he could actually have a job. But those ventures were for other people. To make a school district look good. To put food on the table even when he did n’t much feel like eating himself. This… he might even say this is the first time he’s worked so hard for himself, taken every bull he could find by the horns and steered it toward this club Bubbles has been hyping up, instead of figuring out where the things he loved decided to take him.

…Okay, and maybe he’s been doing some of this with Marinette in mind. But it isn’t entirely because of her, and he’d be dead and buried before he’d admit that Juleka’s right about this.

But what’s so bad about having a reason to work so hard? What’s wrong with calling the band together to practice when they’d been so lax about performances before? And what’s so bad about having a face to focus on in his imaginary audience whenever he closes his eyes? Or about having their setlist running like ticker tape in his head whenever he has a quiet moment in between deliveries? Or about splitting his attention between his messages to Bubbles and the tireless search for that perfect shade of blue music in the middle of the night?

Isn’t this what drives art? A color, a smile, a touch of the hand? Doesn’t this stuff launch ships and pen poetry? Isn’t it the little things, the things that are inconsequential to almost everyone else, that makes a painting into a masterpiece, or a song into a symphony?

Juleka says it once at the end of practice. Mostly with a jerk of her thumb and the hollow drawl of, “Get a load of this guy.”

Luka barely hears it, mostly because he’s crossed the room to study a heap of sheet music and rearrange it for what feels like the third time this hour. But he has enough spare energy, between writing and erasing and rewriting, to raise a middle finger behind him.

“Oh, come on,” Rose laughs, stepping back from the microphone; in seconds, he can feel her looming over him, studying with him. He doesn’t mind it, or how she rests her chin on his head, simply because they’ve known each other so long. “You just wanna get it right for our big break, right?”

Luka’s gotten a lot of things right; it’s easy to do when he keeps the bar for “right” on the ground nine times out of ten. He doesn’t want to get it right. He wants to get it perfect. And, as it turns out, the tenth time is the most finicky son of a bitch he’s ever dealt with. Which is saying something, when he’s been at the mercy of hungry customers more times than he can count.

“We’ll get it,” Rose encourages him with a friendly kiss to the top of his head. Her voice sounds tired. Maybe even worn. “But it’s not gonna go anywhere if you leave it alone for a while. I promise. Come on, let’s give it a rest.”

After a moment, he sighs, rights his papers, and rests his forehead on the keyboard he’s had to use as a makeshift desk. It makes the most distressing mix of notes in protest, but he hardly winces; it’s not like he’s ever been able to play it properly, anyway. “Fine,” he relents. “I’ll make you some tea and meet you upstairs.”

A shift in the air tells him neither Rose nor Juleka believes him. In the end, Juleka says, “Fine,” and Rose unravels from him, and their footsteps fade up the stairs.

With a sigh, Luka lifts his head from the piano, sure that the keys must have left some kind of mark, and finds Ivan still there, seated half-uncomfortably behind the drum set and twirling one of the sticks in his fingers.

“Juleka gave me The Look,” is all Ivan says, but it’s enough of an explanation. They’ve all been on the business end of The Look before. Even Rose, and maybe Luka more than most. He can see it in his head from the words alone.

“I get it, I get it,” Luka says, and he sets to work putting the kettle on and fishing out a couple of teabags and mismatched mugs from the cupboard. “You want a soda? Last one before we go grocery shopping—”

Ivan shakes his head. “You have it.”

Luka tosses him a water bottle instead, impressed by how he downs half of it in one go, dismissing his apology when he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. The kettle’s still going. They’ve got time to kill.

“She… kinda has a point,” Ivan mumbles after more than a beat of silence, like he’s uncertain about being too honest. Luka’s always thought he had nothing to worry about—Ivan’s much more tender than first glances would have others believe, and maybe tiptoes more than he should to fight those first glances. But he’s also had more than his fair share of overthinking the right words to say when music doesn’t suffice, and of regretting the words no matter how he ends up stringing them together, so he can’t really blame him.

Luka decides to bite. “What d’you mean?”

“I dunno,” Ivan says, which usually means that he does know but is looking for the right way to cushion his words. “It does kinda feel like you’ve gone into turbo mode about this whole gig. But like, Luka-Couffaine-Style Turbo Mode.”

“Is that better or worse than the average?”

“Well… it’s definitely different. It’s like you tune everything out and go… I guess, somewhere inside yourself that the rest of us can’t see.” Ivan shrugs. “I guess maybe she’s worried that it’s so nice in there that you won’t come back out.”

Luka smiles grimly at the stovetop. “You’re not gonna tell me there’s no I in ‘band,’ are you?”

Ivan laughs and takes another swig. “Nah, that sounds like something a guidance counselor would say. More like… it’s okay to come out sometimes.”

Luka bites his tongue and resists the urge to joke that he already does it every time he meets someone new. Instead, he busies himself with turning off the kettle and making the tea. “Hey, uh… you don’t mind if I ask you something weird i do you?”

“I’m already scared,” Ivan jokes, “but go ahead.”

Luka pauses, tea bag in hand. “How did… you and Mylène get together?”

When he turns, it’s hard to say just how Ivan’s expression’s shifted, but he knows it has. Reminiscing, maybe? Or is that... cringing? Or—for better or worse—understanding? “I, uh, wrote her a song. It… didn’t exactly go well.”

“What d’you mean, it didn’t go well? You’re dating, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but. “Ivan shrugs. “It’s not like we just magically came together or anything. There were hiccups, I guess. You know?”

Luka knew hiccups better than the back of his hand. “So… what happened?”

Ivan tells him everything. How he liked Mylène and how sometimes it felt like everyone knew it but her. Or how maybe she knew after all, but didn’t want to, now maybe she even pretended she didn’t to let him down easy. How he buzzed from head to toe just sitting next to her in class but barely talked to her because he didn’t feel like he had the right to. The nights he stayed up thinking about it, wildly swinging back and forth between what if she doesn’t? and but God, what if she does? How he was teased and goaded by his classmates into finally gathering up the courage to confess to her, and humiliating them both with that stupid, loud song. And how, at the end of the day, all she needed to do was read the lyrics.

“It didn’t have to be perfect,” Ivan tells him. “It just had to be good.”

Luka smiles to himself at the end of it all, and feels his stomach turn, and wonders in the silence if all Marinette needs to do is hear the notes.

“Is it?” Ivan asks. “A girl? The one you’ve been posting about?”

Luka doesn’t say anything. He only takes the tray of drinks, and gives a little shrug, and nods toward the stairs. He gets the feeling Ivan would know without words anyway.

Cause I’m in. In fact, I’ve never been more “in” in my life.

#miraculous ladybug #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #fic: chronicles of a parisian dumbass #i remember writing this chapter... like six months ago #on my porch #welp.

40 notes · View notes

bitter69uk · 3 years

Photo

Recently watched: Screaming Mimi (1958). Tagline: “Suspense behind every curve!” I’m using this period of enforced social isolation to explore the weirder corners of YouTube for long forgotten and obscure movies. (My boyfriend is accompanying me only semi-willingly).

The dilemma with Screaming Mimi is that it frontloads so much lurid excitement into its opening minutes that the rest of the film feels anti-climactic. It begins in Laguna Beach with statuesque bathing beauty Virginia Weston (Anita Ekberg) emerging from the crashing surf, accompanied by her yapping pet dog. Discarding her one-piece bathing suit (implied nudity alert!), she scrubs herself in an outdoor shower. Unbeknownst to her, an escaped psycho killer is spying on Virginia from the bushes! He stabs her dog to silence its warning barks (don’t worry – this happens off-screen) and lunges at Virginia with a knife! (Yes, this shower segment foreshadows Hitchcock’s Psycho). Virginia’s screams alert her stepbrother Charlie, who shoots the psychopath dead.

Cut to Virginia (diagnosed with “deep traumatic shock”) recuperating at Highland Sanitarium. But her problems are only beginning! Dr Greenwood - the shrink assigned to her – has become erotically fixated on his sultry new patient (actor Harry Townes communicates this with haunted bulging eyes) and exerts an unhealthy control over her (“You need me to look after you!”). Six months later, Virginia is released from the institution, re-locates to San Francisco (with the corrupt Dr Greenwood in tow as her manager) and - after adopting the stage name “Yolanda Lange” - resumes her exotic dancing career at a club called (appropriately enough) El Madhouse. But now Yolanda’s fellow strippers are being murdered by a serial killer. And a mysterious statuette of a screaming woman is found at the crime scene!

Suffice to say Screaming Mimi struggles to live up to that frantic introduction. It certainly isn’t a “good” film by any standard. Gerd Oswald’s direction is frequently pedestrian. The narrative is disjointed and confused. For an ostensible thriller, the pacing is surprisingly plodding. The police procedural aspect is dull, especially when the focus shifts from Ekberg to Bill Sweeney, the news reporter who’s determined to crack the case (and falls in love with Yolanda). The actor who plays Sweeney (Philip Carey) is fatally unengaging. But any black and white film swathed in noir-ish shadows, where the action unfolds mostly at night and shuttles between lunatic asylum to strip club to apartment illuminated by a flickering neon sign exerts an alluring sleaze appeal. Screaming Mimi is vividly representative of a sensational lowbrow fifties pulp sensibility.

And leading lady Anita Ekberg’s performance is compellingly bad. The voluptuous Swedish sexbomb was always more of a glamour icon than an actress (the only director who knew how to properly utilize her charms was Federico Fellini). To be fair, though, the part of Virginia / Yolanda would flummox the most accomplished of actors: she’s a one-dimensional victim with uncertain motivation (her character changes scene-by-scene from catatonic to petulant to child-like). “She’s the greatest thing in the history of night club entertainment!” someone raves, but in truth Yolanda’s burlesque routine (think slave girl bound in chains) reveals Ekberg is no dancer (it mainly consists of her striking poses or writhing on the floor). But Ekberg possesses undeniable magnetism, and she resembles a spectacular Nordic Viking goddess throughout.

Then there’s Gypsy Rose Lee as the brassy proprietress of El Madhouse. Her presence ensures a certain camp curiosity value, but how can I put this? Lee is a massively significant pioneer in the history of striptease. Her origins are immortalized in the classic Broadway musical Gypsy. But she’s frankly awful in Screaming Mimi, and her "Put the Blame on Mame" number is excruciating. Lee is involved in some of Screaming Mimi’s most seamy facets, though. Her character is “coded” as lesbian, and the nubile young cocktail waitress / wannabe dancer from El Madhouse is her "companion." And when Sweeney visits Lee's apartment to question her, he makes a joking reference to the scent of "perfume" - he means he can smell that the two women have been smoking reefer!

Anyway, everything eventually culminates in a shock-o-rama twist conclusion that weirdly evokes the ending of A Streetcar Named Desire. But there are still plot holes aplenty. Does anyone really understand the significance of the statues? How come Virginia has a Swedish accent? Why is Virginia’s stepbrother old enough to be her father? And why is he dressed like Colonel Sanders? I guess we’ll never know!

Watch Screaming Mimi here.

#screaming mimi #anita ekberg #film noir #vintage sleaze #bad movies we love #bad movies for bad people #exploitation cinema #sexploitation cinema #vintage smut

34 notes · View notes

leiasfanaccount648 · 4 years

Text

Is It Enough?

Hajime Iwaizumi x Fem!Reader

A/N: I got inspired by some lovely Haikyuu writers (as well as some real life events) to make my own scenario. Also, gif credits go to the maker, not me. I hope you all enjoy! :)

Tags: @briswriting @mikwrites @haikyuuopworld

Summary: After dating throughout and after high school, Hajime decides to propose to his girlfriend of 5+ years. Of course, the process leading up to popping the question is a lot harder than he realized it would be.

Word Count: 5410

Warnings/Contains: TONS of fluff, fair amount of angst/sadness, nerves. Also, disclaimer, I did google searches and currency transfers/differences for parts of the fic (you’ll see) so I apologize in advance if anything seems incorrect/weird.

Google Search:

what is the best way to propose

Search Results:

Prep a place in a private beach with an intimate tent and rose petals. Find a private beach to go on bended knee for a simple proposal idea. Put a ring on in it down by the beach. Get snazzed up and then suggest walking down by the water.

“There’s no way I can do that.”

Google Search:

When is an appropriate time to propose

Search Results:

While some would prefer to be in a relationship for two or three years before even thinking about getting married, a new study conducted by F. Hinds says the optimum time is just ONE YEAR and eight months (and three days to be exact!)

“Am I too late to even be doing this?”

Google Search:

how much is the average engagement ring

Search Results:

According to recent surveys, most couples expect to spend between ¥108,022 and ¥540,110 on an engagement ring. The actual average cost for an engagement ring is over ¥665,796. With all that said, most women are reasonable creatures.

“God, I can’t afford anywhere close to that.”

Relationships can be many things, whether they’re serious, just starting out, or even just with a friend or family member. Either way, complicated things always come rushing in that either strengthen or ruin them.

For Hajime, he had been in a serious relationship with his girlfriend for years, and he had been struggling with something that most men could probably figure out and accomplish in a matter of months.

He had been at it for almost 2 years, and it was a simple proposal.

“Iwaizumi!”

Hajime quickly turned around at the voice, seeing a girl he vaguely recognized from his class running down the hall towards him. She was not only sudden about her words but also a little frantic; god knew whatever she wanted from him, but he was about to find out himself. “Yeah? Can I help you?” He looked the girl up and down real quick, noticing how she was slightly out of breath. He took the moment to try and remember her name as well, but she took care of that for him.

“Although we’re in the same class I doubt you know who I am,” she laughed, finding the idea funny, “but I’m (Y/N) (L/N). I’m really struggling on the english homework that’s due at the end of the week, and I know that you’re good at the subject so I was wondering if maybe you’d take some time out of your life to help me pass?”

Hajime glanced to the side to see if his friends were present, but noticed that they were still walking down the hallway to head towards the gym. Only Oikawa stopped when he realized that his best friend wasn’t walking beside him anymore, watching the two talk from a couple feet away.

“Uh, I mean,” Hajime didn’t know what to say at first, not wanting to be rude but still wanting to be a decent human being. “I have volleyball practice before and after school every day, but if you want to meet during lunch or something I can try my best to help you.”

“Really?” The girl gave him a relieved yet bright smile, as though asking him something like that was the most intimidating thing to ever do. She quickly bowed her head in thanks. “Thank you so much, I owe you big time!” Hajime smiled a little himself, opening his mouth to respond but his idiotic friend called for him.

“Iwa-Chan! Quit talking with your admirers and let’s get going.” Oikawa began walking down the hall after their other friends. “Us first years can’t be late you know!”

Hajime sighed in both annoyance and embarrassment. He turned his head slightly towards Oikawa. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He glanced back at (Y/N). “Sorry, I’ve gotta go.”

(Y/N) shook her head, smiling. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She began to walk back towards the classroom, waving back at him. “Thanks again, Iwaizumi!”

Hajime stopped from typing on his computer as he thought back to almost 6 years ago. The moment that he met the love of his life was cliche for sure, but he still loved her nonetheless. From the random nonsense she would spew at him, to how cute she looked when struggling to reach for something and would refuse to admit that she needed his help, to how she would comfort him after bad practices and games alike; there wasn’t a single thing about her that made him not want to love her. That was why he had to marry her.

“Iwa!” (Y/N) quickly made her way over to Hajime, smiling bright despite it being so late in the day. “Are you ready to go?”

Hajime turned to look at her, ignoring Oikawa’s rant about whatever skill or technique he had been working on that day during practice. He managed a smile despite being so worn out from the last few hours. “Yeah, I just need to get changed real quick then we can head out.”

It had been almost a year since the two of them started dating, and things were going well. Slow, but good nonetheless. They ate lunch together, walked to and from school, and had the occasional date night every other week or so. It was simple, but with them still being in high school and being busy with things in their lives outside of classes, it was just about all they could do anyways.

Of course, Hajime had the constant thought at the back of his mind of whether or not it was enough for (Y/N).

They had just started their second year at Aoba Johsai, and although both of them acted comfortable with the way they had been doing things, Hajime was worried that she would leave him for someone that could give her more. This then led him to worry if (Y/N) was worrying about whether or not she was enough for him.

She constantly reassured him that it was okay if he couldn’t walk her to school one morning due to an earlier morning practice, or if she happened to have a family event in the evening so they couldn’t get snacks after their clubs were done for the day. As long as they could keep in touch, and still felt the same about one another, everything was okay, at least in her eyes.

He believed what she said, but Hajime still had to ask her something for the sake of his sanity before he got desperate enough to ask Oikawa for help. It wasn’t that he hated any ideas or suggestions he thought of, he just didn’t think that a plan from a guy who only flirts and rarely (actually) dates women would work in Hajime’s case.

Iwaizumi finished changing as fast as he could, quickly saying goodbye to everyone in the clubroom before leaving and rushing down the metal stairs to meet his girlfriend at the bottom. “Ready when you are.”

Their walk was nothing out of the ordinary. Loosely held hands, talking about how their clubs went and sharing funny stories or jokes about some of their friends (mostly Oikawa), and overall enjoying each other’s company. They decided to skip snacks on the way home tonight, as (Y/N) told Hajime that her mother had planned a big dinner and didn’t want to miss out on it, but that made the walk no less interesting.

Silence fell upon them after (Y/N) finished talking about how one of her friends in her club had accidentally messaged their crush about something embarrassing, and a slight breeze went past the two of them, making (Y/N) shiver slightly. She didn’t say anything, but Hajime noticed and let go of her hand to put his arm around her waist and hold her close.

“Iwa-”

“You’re cold.”

(Y/N) didn’t say anything else, only smiling and leaning against him as they continued to walk. A moment or so later, Hajime spoke up.

“By the way, do you have anything going on in a couple months?”

The two stopped at an intersection to wait for the crosswalk to turn green and (Y/N) took out her phone to check her calendar. She shrugged as she looked through it, double checking just to make sure. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“Are you busy June 18th?”

(Y/N) glanced at the date again on her phone as Hajime responded almost immediately. She smiled as she remembered the date. “You mean to tell me you’re planning something for our 1 year anniversary?” She held back a giggle as she saw his face flush slightly. She always found it cute when he let his guard down and got flustered because of her.

Hajime glanced up, seeing the crosswalk signal change. He pulled (Y/N) close to him once again and started to cross the street with her. He sighed, knowing it was now or never. “Well, I’m planning on it.” Here it goes. “I’m just not entirely sure what to do.”

(Y/N) did her best to look up at him, despite him holding onto her the way that he was. “What do you mean?” She didn’t necessarily understand why he seemed so unsure and nervous on the subject. Afterall, all she could really ask for was a day with him by herself; however, there was a look in his eye as Hajime continued to look ahead at the sidewalk that practically told her that an answer like that wouldn’t suffice for him. “You don’t have to worry yourself, Iwaizumi. I don’t need anything special or extravagant like what most girls would want.”

“But I feel like I could be doing more and,” he paused, glancing down at the concrete. “I just don’t know what I can do for you.” There it was. He didn’t plan on saying it that quickly into the conversation, but it was racking his mind like crazy.

(Y/N) forced the two of them to slow their walk until they were stopped. She stood in front of him; the look in her eyes almost held the same emotion his did: worry. “Wait, is there a problem with me? Is what we’ve been doing getting old?” Of course she knew it was a little irrational to think much less say these thoughts to him, but now she couldn’t help it. Hajime shook his head, his gaze never leaving her eyes.

“No, no, of course not.” He paused, quickly gathering his thoughts. “If anything, it’s more of the other way around.” He laughed softly, part of it almost forced out. He took hold of her hands, looking at them before meeting her gaze once again. “I just care about you so much that I’m afraid of screwing up what we already have.”

“But I’ve already told you that I don’t need much.”

“Yes, but you deserve so much more.”

(Y/N) felt her heart practically skip at his words, touched and even felt the love radiating off his words. She knew that they hadn’t been dating long enough for most people to say it, but she could still feel the love between the two of them.

(Y/N) didn’t know until Hajime told her almost a year later, but that was the moment that he realized he loved her. He also didn’t believe her at first when she said that part of her knew. It was all so uncanny to both of them that it just felt unreal. Of course, both of them knew that they didn’t care how typical their relationship was. It was theirs and no one else’s.

Hajime took a deep breath, the smile slowly leaving his face as he stared at the computer screen, looking through link after link, google search after google search, trying to find not only the right ring, but the right time and place as well. He sighed again, shaking his head.

“This isn’t working.”

He stood up from his desk, grabbing his wallet, keys, and jacket before heading out the door. Maybe some hands on searching would help him. They had come this far, and he knew that he couldn’t fail her now.

“I just,” (Y/N) sighed, shaking her head. “I can’t believe that won’t let up about this.”

It was late, around 10pm on a Friday, and (Y/N) had been on a skype call with Hajime for the past half hour or so. She hadn’t been messaging him for a few hours since he dropped her off at home, which worried him a little, but he knew that she wouldn’t be ignoring him on purpose. So he decided to keep himself distracted until he received a Skype call on his computer from her.

He was a little confused, as they didn’t Skype often, nor had she texted prior to calling him. Of course, that didn’t stop him from walking over to his desking and sitting down before answering the call. He felt his heart break at the sound and sight of her crying, one hand holding her forehead as she the other held a crumpled up tissue to her eyes. Hajime would have done anything to physically be with her right now, but he knew that he couldn’t at the moment.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just my parents again.” She sniffled, looking up at the camera as she heard his voice. “I swear once we’ve graduated, I’m going to keep as little contact with them as possible.”

Ever since (Y/N)’s parent’s met Hajime, they loved him. They knew he was caring, protective, and all around a great guy for their daughter. When they found out his intentions after high school, they started to suggest things to (Y/N) that, in short terms, would make her want to either push Hajime to consider a different career, or even break up with him.

Yes, Hajime was a great volleyball player, but neither of (Y/N)’s parents thought that he could make a living playing professionally. Sports at the national level were hard enough to make into as it is, and as talented as he was, neither of them thought he could.

Hajime was aware of this, after (Y/N)’s parents started talking to her about life after high school, and he honestly didn’t care for their opinions on his playing; but after seeing how upset they made (Y/N) and realizing that he didn’t know himself how he was supposed to make his girlfriend’s parents completely happy with her choice of being with him, he couldn’t help but be annoyed and upset as well.

Hajime had managed to calm (Y/N) down on the matter, but her thoughts about life after graduation continued. Yes, the year had just started, but there was still so much to decide on. What would life after the two of them graduated be like? Would they both be in college; same or different? Would Hajime go out for a national team and make it resulting in her to go wherever he went, or be in a long distance relationship? Would neither of them go to college, each get a job, and move in somewhere together?

So many questions ran through her head, and Hajime could tell even if she was through a screen. Just in case her parents might have been able to hear, he quickly pulled out his phone and sent her a text. As she received it, (Y/N) glanced up at her computer to see Hajime simply looking at her and gesturing for her to open it.

Hajime: You wanna go get some food?

(Y/N) couldn’t help but smile, quickly replying.

(Y/N): Yes please

Hajime: Great. I’ll pick you up in 10

She glanced up at the screen one more time, seeing him smile at her. It read everything, but she still said it nonetheless. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Just like he said, Hajime picked her up at her house (as it hadn’t been the first time she had snuck out), and he drove the two of them to her favorite fast food place. They went through the drive-thru but stayed in the parking lot to eat as they had nowhere else to go. This time, it was (Y/N) who had to ask him a question that had been rattling her mind.

“What do you think our lives are going to be like after we graduate?”

Hajime looked over at her, still chewing his food, and saw the look on her face. Part of her was still thinking about what her parents said about him, but he couldn’t blame her. He swallowed and turned in his seat to face her. “Well, what would you like it to be?”

(Y/N) looked down for a moment in thought and smiled. It was as though she had already thought about it. “I would love for us to live together. If only I go to college, I’d study while you play for one of the national level teams, and I’d also get a job to help pay for things.” She set the bag of food down on the floor of the car below her seat before holding both of her knees in her arms as she sat. She continued to think about what their life could be like, a fond smile still on her face.

“However, if you don’t make a national team, I know you’ll still play at the college we decide to go to. Hell, maybe even Oikawa will follow us there if he doesn’t make a team either.” She chuckles, causing Hajime to do the same. She bit her lip in thought, letting go of her knees so her legs could relax and looking out through the car windshield at the street 10 or so feet away from them. Hajime stayed silent as he knew (Y/N) had more that she wanted to say.

“Later down the road after I, or we both,” she glanced at him, “graduate, we’ll continue to live together. We’ll both have stable jobs, and I just know you’re going to be involved with professional volleyball whether you’re on the court, interviewing players, or spectating games.” She smiled to herself again. “And,” she looked up at him once more, “we’ll even get married.”

Hajime considered that either time had stopped or his heart had. Whether it was one, the other, or both, his gaze did not leave hers. He was so surprised by her last statement that his face didn’t show any other emotion other than shock. (Y/N) couldn’t tell if it was the good or bad kind. Eventually, he spoke up, his hand reaching out to hold her own. “You really mean that?”

(Y/N) couldn’t stop the tearful smile from appearing on her face, nodding and squeezing his hand slightly. “Yes, Hajime.” She took hold of his other hand. “I love you so much and I want us to be together for as long as time will allow us.”

Hajime didn’t stop himself, nor could he if he wanted to. He leaned over the center console of the car and kissed her, one of his hands letting go of hers to gently hold the back of her neck to keep her close.

They kissed for a few seconds before (Y/N) broke away to climb over the gearshift to straddle his lap. She pulled him close once again to resume the kiss, her hands holding his shoulders and neck while his stayed on her waist.

Soon enough, (Y/N) was clinging to Hajime with all that she had, smiling and giggling in between kisses and causing him to do the same. She paused for a moment, resting her forehead against his, both of them breathless.

“Hajime?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but he still heard her nonetheless.

“Yeah?”

(Y/N) stared at him for a moment before breaking out into a wide grin again. “I love you so much.”

Hajime smiled as well, one hand gently holding onto her cheek as his eyes closed. “I love you, too.”

“We carry a wide selection of rings varying from bands to the diamonds, and we can customize just about any ring to make sure that she says yes.”

Hajime nodded, paying careful attention to what the saleswoman was telling him. She was nice and soft with her words, as though she had gone through her fair share of nervous boyfriends trying to find the perfect ring. He appreciated the help as much as the next guy, but now that he had done all the research he could and was finally looking in a store, it was as though all of that research was gone from his head.

“So,” she turned to face Hajime, still smiling as sweet as ever. “Is there anything in particular that you’re looking for? Or possibly a style or cut that you know she’s wanting?”

Hajime shrugged, a nervous smile on his face. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure.”

“Well that’s totally fine!” She smiled, walking over to a display of rings. “Lots of people come in not knowing what they’re looking for. However,” she walked behind the display, gesturing to it. “These styles and cuts are the most popular with our customers.”

Hajime nodded, looking over each ring individually. They were all beautiful for sure; some had plain bands, others had designs or diamonds on the sides of the main gem. There were rings that had one big diamond, rings with 2 or 3 small ones, and he could picture (Y/N) each and every one of them. Then he saw the price tags, and his heart dropped.

His gaze went to each and every one, and it was as though he could feel his face get paler as he read over all of them. He and (Y/N) were halfway through their second year in college, and he knew that both of them were in quite a bit of debt as it was. Paying for any one of these rings would probably put them even more into the negative. He couldn’t do that to her.

Then he pictured him calling Oikawa for help and possibly ruining the relationship to the point that she may dump him. He just couldn’t leave the store empty handed.

Hajime cleared his throat to not seem too uncertain or even unstable. He looked up at the woman across the display. “Pardon me for asking, but what are the least expensive rings you have available?”

The woman stared at him for a second, a little shocked that he asked that out of all the possible questions she already had an answer for, but she still did her job with the same kind smile. She walked over to a different display, Hajime following close behind on the other side of the glass cases. “Well, I wouldn’t call them the cheapest diamond rings, of course, but they’re definitely the least in value given the sizes of the diamonds and/or the styles and material of the bands.”

Hajime nodded, once again looking over each of the rings by what they looked like before looking at the prices. He didn’t want to admit it, but he could practically see why these rings were the least expensive. They weren’t as flashy or as big as the most commonly sold; and he knew that (Y/N) had told him time and time again that she didn’t need what most girls wanted, and that what he offered her would always be enough. Five and a half years into the relationship, but he still second guessed himself on that matter.

Hajime blinked a couple times to clear his thoughts, and began to look over the price tags. Once again, he could picture (Y/N) wearing them, but they didn’t seem as perfect as the ones in the first display case. But the price tags were in his range at the moment, and he thanked every god he could that he had been saving up over the last two years.

He then noticed a ring that was practically in the bottom corner of the display, standing at ¥26,443.56, which he knew was extremely cheap for an engagement ring. Of course, it was also the simplest and smallest. The lady behind the counter noticed his eye on it, and gently pulled it out of the case for him to see up close.

“This one is probably the most stereotypical, as it’s a simple 14k white gold band with a 0.25 carat round cut diamond with six prongs holding it. It’s the smallest we have to offer, but it might just be in your price range along with the other rings here.” She smiled and placed the ring back on the cushion on which it was displayed.

Hajime nodded, glancing over at the other display he first saw. The rings he saw in there were more extravagant and and elegant, and he could easily pick any one of them as they all would look beautiful on (Y/N); however, he just couldn’t put the two of them in debt over a ring that he may have to return anyway from not making payments on time. He took a deep breath and looked down at the ring that the woman had taken out of the display case, and smiled.

‘This one is probably the most stereotypical.’

Just like he and (Y/N). This was the ring.

“I’ll go with this one.”

~ ~ ~

Later that evening, Hajime had decided to throw away all suggestions that the internet gave him and go with his gut feeling with proposing: a nice home cooked dinner in the comfort of the apartment they had lived in since they graduated high school, and at the end he’d get down on one knee and ask the fabled question.

(Y/N) been at work all afternoon, and it had been a rough one. Customers go frustrated, coworkers not doing what they were supposed to, her boss “kindly” warning her of some things. It was practically the whole nine yards and all she wanted was for Hajime to hold and comfort her. The moment she opened the door, she almost slammed it closed as she walked inside. She quickly took off her shoes and dropped her bag at the door before heading towards the kitchen where she knew Hajime would be making dinner. The moment she saw him, he was already making his way towards her and immediately took her into his arms.

The moment Hajime heard the door open and slam shut, he knew something was wrong. He turned the stove off and started walking towards the door. He met her half way, his arms around her waist while hers were around his middle. She couldn’t help but tear up finally letting go of all the pent up stress the day had brought upon her.

Part of Hajime didn’t want to bring up the proposal, but part of him also wanted to make her feel better from it. And as the night wore on, he couldn’t help but sway back and forth between each decision. First, he managed to calm her down and make her feel better, but then he shortly forgot about the dinner and almost burnt it. Then, while dinner tasted great, he forgot to finish making the desert and (Y/N) had to help him. While he appreciated the help, he wanted this night to be for her. She deserved so much and no matter what he did, it just didn’t seem to be-

“Hajime.”

He flinched slightly as he felt (Y/N) hug him from behind. He offered to wash the dishes while she got a quick shower, and he didn’t realize how harshly he was scrubbing at a plate until (Y/N) got his attention. He had been so lost in thought all evening, more so all day than anything else, that it was really starting to catch up with him. He sighed, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to bother you with my problems.”

“That’s what couples are supposed to do.” (Y/N) smiled as she got a chuckle out of him. “And then they make you feel better again with distractions or solutions.” She let go of him, walking around to sit on the counter next to the sink. She was dressed in her robe, hair still wet, but she still looked as beautiful as ever in Hajime’s eyes.

“Well you, for sure, are a distraction, my love.” He smiled cheekily, moving to stand in between her legs and hold onto her waist while he kissed her gently. (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, pulling away first.

“Now, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll help you with whatever it is.”

Hajime stared at her for a second before taking a deep breath. “Okay.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the black box that held the ring. He didn’t need to open it as he saw (Y/N)’s eyes widen. She immediately felt herself tear up and held one hand to her mouth. Her eyes stayed trained on the box while his stared at her own. “It’s this that’s been troubling me.

“(Y/N), I’ve been in love with you for over 5 years, and I plan to never stop. We’ve been there for each other through so many pinnacle moments of our lives from when I lost my last high school game to when you finally stood up to your parents about what you were going to do with your life.” Hajime’s breath hitched a little as (Y/N) finally looked up to meet his eye. “I know that we’re going to have both hardships and great times together ahead of us, but as long as I have you getting me through it,” he smiled, starting to tear up. “I know that nothing can get between us.” Then he frowned, glancing down at the box himself.

“However, I know that I can’t always offer you the best that the world has to offer. Whether it be the house we stay in, the work lives we have, or even this ring.” He opened the box, starting to feel a small wave of embarrassment. “I’m always afraid that who I am and what I have to offer may never be enough for you someday, but damn it I will always try to be.”

Hajime paused, feeling that if he went on any longer that he’d bore her or she’d make him stop. Instead, he took a deep breath and removed the ring from it’s box. “I know that it’s not a whole carat or fancy looking, but it’s all that I could afford, and I hope that you’ll accept it and me for the rest of your life.” He smiled, seeing as (Y/N) was doing the same despite the tears starting to fall. “So, (Y/N) (L/N), will you marry me?”

(Y/N) let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding at first, and grinned wide. “Yes.” She nodded, pulling him in for a kiss. This time, it was Hajime who broke it first, sliding the ring onto her finger. She whispered.

“No matter if you're rich, poor, can give me nothing, or give me something, I will always love you Hajime Iwaizumi. And I will never trade you for someone else no matter what they do to try and persuade me.”

Hajime couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he leaned in close and kissed her again. “I’ll always love you, too, (Y/N) Iwaizumi.”

(Y/N) laughed softly, playing with the hairs on the back of his head as her hands rested there. “Oh, so it’s already decided that I’m taking your last name?”

He laughed as well. “I mean can you blame me? I don’t think Hajime (R/N) really fits. Unless you really think that the Iwaizumi name isn’t enough for you.” He smirked, enjoying how he got her laugh so hard at that.

“While I’d greatly agree for the sake of messing with you, it actually sounds perfect.” She smiled, eyes never leaving his. “As long as it’s from you, it’s enough.”

209 notes · View notes

elliethesuperfruitlover · 3 years

Text

Comfort Crowd

A/N: Luba is another character on the list of needing a hug. Along with literally every other Rob character. He’s very soft and lovable, and I’d like to highlight this, and give him some fluff. Enjoy you gremlins.

Warnings: angst, death mention, food, crying

Cheeky Tag List: kat and sups already saw it so, @badsext, @joz-stankovich

“Baby, can we just not today?” Luba asked, eyes looking sad. You tried making out with him, but he pushed you away, hands colder than usual.

“Oh sure honey. Anything you have in mind?” you ask, sitting down next to him, legs crossing.

“I kinda just want to sit. And mope. And cry. And mourn.” Luba said, tears slipping from his eyes, wetting the sheets.

“Oh honey, come here.” you say, letting Luba cry into your shoulder, their sobs racking their soul.

He’d been struggling for a while, especially after Naadirah's death. He acted like it didn’t impact him, and like he didn’t care, but he did. You knew it. Nobody would stay out for that long, then come home, eyes puffy and red. He was hiding from the truth, and you knew it. And it broke you. It absolutely tore you apart, and he thought he was doing okay. Threw a smile on his face and went on to the parlor, the club, wherever it may be. You’d wake up in the middle of the night and hear him sobbing. On the couch, gin in hand absolutely tattered. You knew it was tearing him apart, and finally seeing him break down in your arms tipped you over as well.

You began to weep along with him, tears falling onto your shirt, darkening the fabric. Luba moved, and got into your lap, arms around your middle. His wet face dropped in the crook of your neck, and his broken breaths shook you, and forced you to break down completely as well. Every breath seemed impossible to get past, and Luba’s hands clenched over your shirt, balling it up with his fists. He wanted to scream until his lungs gave out at that point. Nothing he could ever do was going to bring her back, no wish, plead, or screech to the heavens. Not a single breath given could grant it back to her lifeless body. And he wanted her back so badly. The giggles between breaks, jokes about past lives, gossip about managers. It was all gone. He tore himself to bits for letting her go. Sometimes he wished it was himself, buried six feet under instead of her.

“I hate myself for letting her go that night. I-I should’ve followed her home, asked where she’d be. I could’ve trailed her, just to make sure. But I didn’t. Now she’s gone forever, almost without a trace. And I’m left here, trying to pick up the pieces of my broken fucking life. It should’ve been me.” he whispered, eyebrows scrunching in frustration, fresh tears still falling from his face.

“Luba, I know you wish you could’ve done something. And I wish you could’ve as well. Sometimes things happen that we can’t explain. And we might not know why. And I mourn with you, and allow you to grieve. However, it shouldn’t have been you. It shouldn’t have been her. Neither of you would deserve it.” you reply back, brushing a stray curl past his forehead, hand rubbing his back.

Hiccups went past his mouth, and his cries calmed, but just a little. Luba curled up against your form, and continued to play with the fabric of your shirt, feeling how soft it was between his fingers. He looked so serene and calm in the early morning sunlight, but grief took its toll on everyone in different ways. Your tears dried on your face, and you fell asleep, Luba’s breath helping to calm you. The both of you slept for a few extra hours that day, and you woke up first, Luba snoring against your form. You wiggled out from underneath him, and wrapped a blanket around Luba’s body. He cuddled into the fabric, and his hand wrapped around the tassels near the end. You smiled at him and kissed his forehead, which made him slip a smile in his sleep. You walked off from him, and got started on his at-home therapy.

“How the hell am I gonna do this before he wakes up?” you ask yourself, after washing your face and shaking off the bad vibes.

You gathered materials for a pleasant movie night, such as snacks and soft blankets. You headed onto the kitchen, and decided to make a comfort food of Luba’s. You were almost out of food, but you managed to scrape up some chicken noodle soup, trying to keep it as light as possible. Lu’s stomach tended to get upset when he wasn’t having a good time emotionally, so you wanted him to keep everything down. You left the soup on the stove, and had it on low heat. Your feet trod along the stairs, and you checked in again on Luba, who flipped over in his sleep, still snoring your ears off. The bathroom would have to suffice, and you cleaned the tub out, then prepared a bubble bath. You tested the water, and it was warm enough for comfort, and you added the soap, vanilla scented. You made them as a hobby, and the smell permeated the room almost immediately.

The candles in the closet came to use, and you lit a few around the tub, far enough away so that no harm would be done to them. You went back downstairs, and collected more blankets, and a couple chairs. You hung the blankets at a lovely acute angle, and created a blanket fort. The spare fairy lights in the closet would have to do, and you hung them up randomly as well. You looked back at the work, and smiled at yourself, proud of the accomplishment. You walked back up the stairs, and found Luba still sleeping, breaths coming in even puffs. You walked to the side he was closest to, and brushed blonde curls from his face. His face calmed at your touch, and moved into your hand. You gently shook him awake, and he groaned at the contact, hiding his face like a cat would.

“Come on baby, wake up. Don’t want you cranky later,” you said, rubbing his back to help out. “I have some things set up for you.”

“Thank you honey. I gotta go take a quick piss, then I’ll be ready.” he whispered, arms dislodging themselves from your waist.

“Ah, take the bathroom downstairs baby. Got something in this one.” you said, almost not catching yourself. He waved his hand in acknowledgement, and walked down the stairs, and you heard the door close.

You fixed the bed, and rushed down the steps, making sure you caught Lu’s reaction to your surprise. As soon as you got there, he almost began crying again, rushing to give you a bear hug. He thanked you, and kissed the top of your head, moving down to your lips. He pecked them a couple times, and let the last one linger. His hands were at your waist, and you breathed into the kiss, letting go.

“I don’t deserve this. Why did you do this, and all for me?” he asked, tears threatening to fall.

“It’s because it’s what you deserve Luba. After all this, you need it.” you replied, hugging him.

You led him to the kitchen, and his mouth fell open once again, and he kissed the side of your head again. He peeped into the pot, and rushed to get a bowl, feet slapping against the floor. You smiled and he ladled himself a good serving, and almost ran to the living room, where his bowl almost crashed against the carpet. You smiled at his actions, and he sat down in the blanket fort. His hands clapped and he squealed at the placement of everything. You joined him and you two ate your soup in mostly peace, but was somewhat interrupted when Luba said this.

“I love you so much. I don’t know if I deserve all of this. Thank you so much honey. I really appreciate it.” Luba said, looking at you as your spoon dropped into your bowl.

“I-I love you too Luba. You’re very welcome, as you deserve all of this.” you stated, leaning over to kiss him, which he happily reciprocated. “Come on, hurry up, we’ve got a bath to take and some movies to binge-watch!” you said, playfully nibbling at his neck. He giggled, and got up soon after, taking your hand to join you in the bath.

“Thank you for all of this baby. I really mean it too. I’ve really been struggling, and I needed this. Naadie did this for me as well, and I missed it. I’ll miss her. But I’m happy that you’re here with me, and for me. I really thought I couldn’t find love after Naadirah, but you came into my life and turned it around. And I’ll forever be appreciative of that.” Lu whispered, looking you in the eye.

You blushed, and sank into the water, and he laughed at your attitude, leaning over to kiss you. The two of you continued to bathe together, chatting over some light piano in the background. Luba relaxed in the bubbles and you watched him as he slowly melted into a state of calm, almost falling asleep. You let out the water and helped him into some night clothes. You led him downstairs, and put on comfort movies. He sat in your lap, and you hugged around Luba’s middle, letting him sleep peacefully in your lap. Your hand stroked his back as he slept against you, cute snores coming from his mouth. You smiled and kissed Lu’s forehead, making sure that he slept well that night, as he always should.

Masterlist

#luba fluff #luba imagine

16 notes · View notes