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yougotthatbilly · 3 years

Text

take care (m)

→ member: johnny seo

→ genre: assistant!johnny | smut

→ word count: 15.9k (not surprised atp)

→ playlist: body talk x majid jordan, warm x majid jordan, BoRdErSz x zayn, moment x victoria monét

→ warnings: slowburn, indecisiveness, v self-indulgent; unprofessional relations, big dick!johnny (ofc; don’t expect anything else), soft dom!johnny, begging (johnny’s a tease), subspace, oral; face-fucking, (and if you squint, ass eating), unprotected sex, squirting, praising, overstimulation, etc.

↳ summary: your assistant just wants to take care of you

The heavy rain outside mocks you. You were supposed to be at your favorite bar across the street, but here you are sitting at your desk, staring out your window. And that’s how Johnny finds you after being granted entrance into your office.

Your arm is propped up on the arm of your seat, cheek in hand, lips pouted. Johnny does his best not to smile at the thought of you looking adorable as not to piss you off. He just sets your cup of tea down on the coaster on the corner of your desk.

“How was the meeting?” he asks, taking a seat on the other side of your desk.

You slowly spin to face him, looking at him with annoyed eyes as you take a sip of your tea. It’s the perfect temperature—a temperature Johnny took almost a month to perfect— and sweetness, and it instantly makes you feel a little better.

“Don’t worry,” you sigh. “Jiyoung didn’t get fired.” You have a three-strike policy; this incident is the second strike.

“Jaehyun,” Johnny corrects, grinning.

You tilt your head at his correction. “I care?”

Johnny just shakes his head, knowing you’re being petty because Jaehyun got his dates wrong and uploaded a post on a few new products a week earlier than the scheduled date, resulting in having to speed things up a little. It didn’t cause a major problem because you’re typically prepared for the worst case scenario, but you don’t like feeling rushed and when things don’t go as planned, so you were pissed.

“What’s his punishment?”

“That’s between me and him,” you tell Johnny before taking another sip. Your lip curls in disgust at the suggestive look your assistant gives you. “Okay, let’s not be gross. He’s a child.”

“I didn’t know 23 was considered a child,” Johnny teases, mostly because the man of the hour has had a crush on you for the last year he’s been working for you and he’s been trying to get Johnny to talk him up to you.

“I didn’t know you wanted to get fired in his place,” you say with a tight smile. Johnny decides to switch the subject.

“Mind me asking why you looked so sad when I walked in?”

You sigh once more, slouching in your seat.

“I wanted to go to the bar…” You point to the window beside you. Johnny follows your finger and watches the storm that hasn’t let up since it started half an hour ago. “That’s not happening anytime soon.”

You’ve either been in your office working nonstop or sleeping for the last week or so and you can feel a burnout creeping up. You were going to walk to the bar to get the fresh air you needed, enjoy a drink and your favorite wings because you deserve it—especially after the headache Jaehyun caused the moment you stepped foot into your office this morning—and indulge yourself. Now look at you, hardly munching on the fruit slices Johnny gave you this morning and almost finished with your tea.

“I’m sorry things aren’t going the way you planned today.” Johnny pouts. “On the bright side, you don’t have anything else on your schedule so if you wanted to go home within the next hour, you wouldn’t fall behind.”

“I’ll probably just take a nap on the futon once I’m done looking over the new plan again.” You shrug.

Johnny wants to roll his eyes, but he catches himself. He’s sure you’ve already gone over it at least five times. There’s nothing he can do about it, though, so lifts himself out of his seat. “I’ll leave you to it. Just give me a call if something comes up or you change your mind.”

To both of your surprise, you actually head out and get yourself a candle you’d ran out of a week ago on the way home to treat yourself to a much needed bath filled with bubbles and essential oils. The scent of the candle reminds you of your assistant because it’s the scent he got you for your birthday, and it’s become your favorite.

You send a picture of the candle at the end of your tub to Johnny, thanking him again for putting you onto greatness, as he worded it before when you first smelled it in front of him and your eyes practically rolled back.

[18:14] John Suh: Are you actually relaxing???

You suck your teeth at his response, but you can’t blame him. He’s the only one that knows just how much you put in to get to the position you’re in, while you’re positive a lot of others just think it was handed to you by your mother instead of the school and endless hours work you went through and continue to go through. It’s very rare you give yourself the time to truly sit back and relax aside from when you’re on vacation. And even then, work never really stops. It just gets placed on the back burner for a little.

[18:16] you: Hush.

[18:17] John Suh: I’m just glad you’re taking care of yourself. Your dark circles have been snitching on you.

[18:17] you: Wow. You really wanna get fired today, huh?

[18:18] John Suh: Dark circles or not, you know you’re still beautiful. Now stop texting me and enjoy your bath!

When you find yourself smiling at your phone, you know you should do exactly what he says. Johnny’s always been a complimenter, though his usual kindness goes along the lines of telling you that you look nice. You’re no stranger to this specific compliment, you get it all the time on Instagram from your business partners and supporters. So why does this time settle differently within you?

[18:21] you: Nice save.

You need a video of one of your popular social media influencer ambassadors using and reviewing your newest skincare products tomorrow—due to Jaehyun’s mix-up—but that’s not happening. She didn’t record it before going on vacation and didn’t think to bring the products with her on her trip. While it isn’t her fault times have moved around, you’re annoyed she didn’t bring the products with her when she’s supposed to be using them every day because she’s one of your main advocates for your products being oily skin-friendly. You have the videos of the other models with their specific skin types, and this is your missing piece.

The weather is nice today, so you take a much-needed break from electronics and go to the roof of the building. Your peace is quickly interrupted by the body of a six-foot male in front of you, standing in the way of the sunlight you were basking in.

“I know you hate him right now,” Johnny begins, skipping over greetings to get to the point of his disruption. “But Jaehyun has oily skin, he’s been using the products you gave him for like three weeks, he really likes them, and he has a good following on Instagram.”

You take the phone handed to you begrudgingly and look at Jaehyun’s page. Thirteen thousand followers and quality pictures. You’re not blind, Jaehyun is conventionally attractive and looks like a model in the photos and boomerangs. Something is missing, though. “Eh.”

“‘Eh?’” Johnny parrots, confused. He doesn’t know a better last-minute model for you than Jaehyun.

“Something’s missing,” you explain with a shrug. You absentmindedly tap the profile icon at the bottom of the screen and Johnny’s Instagram profile pops up. The two of you follow each other, so it’s not like you’ve never seen his pictures, but it’s been a while since you actually paid attention to detail. He has eighteen thousand followers and apparently uploads his pictures following a color theme. There are pictures of himself, random people, and nature in a strategic flow. When you select a video to watch, you’re sold on the lighting, exposure, and the way he captured the woman’s features. “Sit.”

Johnny does so without any questions. You gently grab his jaw and study his face closely. His skin is supple and dewy, the sun highlighting his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. Not that his skin was bad before he started using your products, but the texture and scarring have minimized quite a bit. Johnny doesn’t have the typical, bland model face your competitors love so much, especially with the slight stubble he’s got above his top lip and on his chin.

“What’s your skin type, John?”

“Oily,” he sighs, knowing what’s coming next. He was doing his job as your assistant, trying to make your life easier, but now he wishes he would’ve left this task to the social media department and stayed out of it.

You thought so. “Will you do this for me instead?”

“Do I look like an influencer to you?”

“Yes. I’ll double your next check and everything,” you promise him. “You actually have a personality and everything you post is quality. Women will love the eye candy and all types of men will take you seriously because you don’t have that annoying pristine, perfect look to you like Jaeyoung does.”

Johnny is here to fulfill your needs, so he knows you asking is really just you being polite. He doesn’t have much of a choice, especially with the lack of time you have. He is enjoying the warmth of your hand and the fact you referred to him as ‘eye candy,’ too. And who is he to say no to extra money?

“I’ll have it recorded and edited by midnight,” Johnny smiles, giving you the hope you need.

“Ugh, you’re the best,” you sigh in relief, shaking his face side to side affectionately before letting him go to stand up. You feel much better now. “Send it directly to me.”

Johnny stands up with you and leads the way, opening the door for you. “Yes, ma’am.”

Always true to his word, Johnny emails you two links at a quarter-till, with a message attached:

Good evening,

I edited two videos for you, one short enough for a regular post on the company’s page and the other that could be used for my IGTV for my followers. I hope these meet your expectations, but if there’s anything you need me to fix or redo, let me know and I’ll get right to it.

Sincerely,

John Suh

You get comfortable in your bed with your iPad and tap the first link. You make sure the brightness and volume are high enough to get the full effect, then press play. The quality of the film makes you assume he used a professional camera instead of his phone, and he gets a point for that.

“Hey,” Johnny starts with an awkwardly endearing smile. “I know this is a little different than what I usually post, but I got scouted by the skincare goddess herself to be an ambassador for Surreal’s new line of skincare, Ethereal.”

You grin at the nickname and note that with him being in the bathroom, there’s no echo in his audio, and that gives him another point.

“I’ve been using the four of the five products I’m about to introduce to you everyday for around a month and before I do my skincare routine for you, I’ll show you what my skin looked like before I started using these products with dates so you don’t think I’m just trying to sell you on them just because she’s been writing my checks for the last year,” Johnny chuckles, then the screen shows a selfie Johnny took with the date of a month ago from today, some hyperpigmentation and small bumps dotting his cheek and jaw.

Another point for including before and afters. You knew he’d meet your expectations without you having to say much.

“I’ll get up close and personal at the end so you can really see the results,” Johnny winks into the camera, causing you to blink.

You knew he’d have personality and that was one of the main reasons he was a great idea, and while in hindsight his actions are predictable, you shake your head. The fact that he’s actually charming makes you scoff, but you’re sure that the damn wink only worked on you right now because it’s almost midnight and you should be asleep right now. You won’t act like he hasn’t always been nice on the eyes, but he’s Johnny.

You can’t deny that you do thoroughly enjoy the Johnny presented to you through the screen, though.

“The first product is an oil-based cleanser because the SPF in this collection is oil-based as well,” Johnny explains, then proceeds to show the jar and small spatula that comes with it before he scooped some out, capturing the texture of the product well.

And that’s how the rest of the video plays out, the unusually deep, gentle tone of Johnny’s voice explaining how well each product works for his oily and acne-prone skin, lulling you into a relaxed state against your headboard. He keeps things short and simple, the video just barely passing three minutes and as promised, his face comes a lot closer to the screen, showing the faded scarring and smooth texture of what used to be his problem areas. Johnny ends the video with a sweet smile and says goodbye. The shorter video is edited to where he’s hardly talking, mostly just demoing your products, just the way you like things to be on the company’s page.

You did great, John. Thanks again for doing this last minute. You can come in at 10 am tomorrow since I had you working overtime today. Rest well.

Johnny is at your desk with your morning cup of tea at eight in the morning, a bright smile on his face as he tells you good morning.

You glare at him. “Why are you here?”

“Because it’s my job?” Johnny says, pretending like he doesn’t know what you’re referring to. You can read him well, though. You take the mug out of his hand before gesturing for him to take a seat in front of you.

“You’re either being hard-headed as usual, or you’re anxious about your video being uploaded. Which is it?”

And that wipes the bright smile off of his face.

“I slept three hours last night,” he confesses. “I’m not used to this kind of exposure.”

You take a couple of sips of your tea and quietly observe him, thinking.

“Would you prefer we didn’t post it, then?”

Your assistant looks at you as if you didn’t just speak one of the languages he’s fluent in. You just blink at him and continue drinking your beverage, waiting for him to either say yes or no in case you need to make other plans, again.

“You’d do that for me?” he finally says after a while of staring at you like you’re crazy.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask slowly. “You’ve proven how far you’d go for me and I appreciate it, but I care about you as a person and anxiety is a bitch, so I wouldn’t want you to be panicking over Jaejoon’s mistake.”

The corner of Johnny’s lift curls at your continued pettiness, and maybe his heart does a thing at the fact that you care that much about him. It’s obvious to everyone that he is the closest to you out of all of your employees; being your assistant means you let your guard down a little with him. Along with the more serious side of your personality everyone else gets (especially recently), he sees your soft side. You’re not an overly strict boss, but Johnny gets to see you smile more and pout (he’d lose his job if he admitted to you how endearing your pout is to him). But even with the closer relationship the two of you have, Johnny would’ve never expected you to choose his stage fright over your baby; your company.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Johnny declines with a shake of his head. “I’ll be okay, I promise. Thank you for considering my feelings, though.”

You shrug, not about to press him on the issue. “Alright. I need you to post the IGTV at 2 pm and tag our page in an appropriate caption. I’d suggest you turn your notifications off for a while because as soon as you post it, it’s getting posted to our story then I’m sure you’re gonna get flooded with DM’s.”

“Flooded?’” Johnny asks, head tilted. “I mean, all I’ll have to do is copy and paste the same message answering any questions they might have about the products. Easy.”

You’re the one to look at him like he’s stupid this time. You set your mug down, lean back in your swivel chair, and clasp your hands over your stomach. “You can’t be that dense.”

“‘Dense?’” he asks.

“Are you a parrot?” you tsk. “But yes, dense. You know good and well most of the messages will have nothing to do with my products and everything to do with you.”

Johnny has the audacity to still be confused after your explanation.

“John, you realize you’re a good-looking guy with a likable personality, right?”

It’s not that he doesn’t know that. Johnny’s always been a pretty confident guy, with both his looks and personality. His confusion doesn’t stem from being blind or too humble. It’s the fact you of all people are telling him this right now.

“You think so?” he prompts, just to see how many compliments he can get out of you. This is a rare occasion.

“When you’re not being annoyingly happy-go-lucky and chill out, yes.” You reply. And now he’s pouting. That’s what he gets.

“I thought my cheerfulness brought joy to your days,” Johnny says with a dramatic hand on his heart, offended.

“What brings me joy is everything running smoothly and everyone doing their job,” you correct. He isn’t wrong, but you decide not to stroke his ego any more than you already have. And you’ve already said too much. “With that being said, you do everything I ask of you, and that brings me so much joy. You’re the perfect assistant, so don’t cry.”

“Is this your way of telling me to calm down?”

Your iPad buzzes against the wood of your desk and when you peek at it, you see it’s an email from Jaehyun with the subject: Today’s upload schedule.

“This is my way of telling you to get to work, honey.”

Johnny often finds himself slowly backing out of your office with his hands up in surrender, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He loves the distinct differences between the two of you. He figures it’s why you work so well together and why he’s held this job position for over a year in comparison to the two assistants before him that both got fired before the six-month mark. Johnny’s also positive that you love his excessively positive nature (as Jaehyun has described Johnny’s personality before) somewhere deep down and that he brightens your day after dealing with idiots like Jaehyun.

When your assistant is out of sight, you grab your iPad, respond to Jaehyun’s email, and find yourself rewatching today’s scheduled video. Maybe more than once.

The video is up at 2 pm sharp and Johnny does as advised, turning his Instagram notifications off immediately. He even goes as far as taking his phone off of vibrate so he isn’t aware of any other notifications until he decides to look at his phone again. He’s got things to organize anyway, so the work he has to do takes his mind off of any anxiety within him.

That is until you appear at the doorway of his office an hour later. This is a rare occurrence, so Johnny can’t be blamed for staring at you, and in the process, he appreciates the very fitted pantsuit you’re wearing. You took off the blazer sometime in between when Johnny left your office hours ago and now, and he thinks that the blush pink blouse compliments your complexion and red lips very well. But of course it does. Everything you wear compliments everything about you perfectly.

Just one of the many observations Johnny has made in the past year.

“How do you feel?” you ask him. Your voice is always so calm and collected, even when you’re ripping someone to shreds because of idiocy. Johnny admittedly admires that about you.

“I’ve done everything under the sun to avoid my phone,” Johnny confesses with a weak laugh.

You nod. “Well, just know that I’ve had multiple companies and modeling agencies ask why I’ve been hiding you. So don’t be surprised if you have job opportunities waiting for you.”

“Wow… this means I can finally quit,” Johnny hardly whispers with a victorious fist pump.

“I wish the hell you would,” you deadpan, breaking Johnny’s act and causing him to laugh loudly at the lack of expression paired with your response. “You’re mine unless there’s a tragic accident, God forbid, or you’re moving up in the ranks.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” you confirm, sending him a wink before turning on your heel and strutting back to your own office. Johnny licks his lips at the sight of the natural sway of your hips before shaking his head and getting back to working on the excel sheet staring at him.

“How is it that you all have the skills and training for the very simple tasks I ask you to complete, yet lack common sense and proper work ethic?”

Everyone in the room, excluding Johnny, just looks up at you from their seats, pitiful expressions on their faces. Their eyes follow you as you slowly walk to the other side of the room. You’re trying to stay calm and be professional, so pacing around the room is your best bet.

To Johnny, you look like you’re on a runway in slow motion, modeling the slim-fitting pencil skirt and red bottoms you’re adorning. Though still attentive to every word coming out of your mouth, Johnny lets himself get lost in each step you take because he’s not the one getting chewed out.

Mark, one of the newest additions to the marketing department, leans into Johnny’s side to whisper into his ear. “How have you managed to not fuck up and be on the receiving end of her talks yet?”

You don’t hear anything, but you see whispering happening, and now is not the time for side conversations. Johnny doesn’t even have the chance to turn to Mark or tell him to shut up until the end of the meeting before you’re speaking again.

“Mark Lee,” you call as you make your way towards him, causing him to sit up straight. “Is there something you’d like to say?”

“No, ma’am,” he responds nervously. Johnny internally shakes his head at Mark not being able to think quickly and lie. “My apologies.”

“Is there anything anyone wants to say or am I just a narcissist who loves talking to hear my lovely voice? Should I sing?” you ask, standing next to Johnny at the end of the conference table, hand on your hip. “Y’all want a performance?”

Johnny bites the inside of his cheek to refrain from laughing. Your sarcasm only intensifies the unsettled looks on everyone’s face and they all side-eye Jungwoo, their savior from the last time they got chewed out as a whole. Jungwoo raises his hand before saying, “There’s nothing we can say to excuse our actions—or lack thereof, but we will get right on it and do our jobs correctly this time. You won’t have to repeat yourself again.”

Johnny is impressed at how quickly your features soften. The ready-to-fire-someone look melts away as you nod at Jungwoo’s promise. You do have a bit of a soft spot for the latter, though, so it makes sense.

“I’ll take your word for it. You’re dismissed,” you announce, waving everyone off.

The room is empty, save for you and your assistant, in mere seconds.

“You’re going to give them nightmares,” Johnny chuckles, gathering your belongings before opening the door for you to exit the conference room. He laughs once more at your responding yawn.

“How? That was me on my best behavior,” you retort, your heels clicking loudly as you walk to the elevator. “And what was Lee whispering about?”

“Your employees are just amazed that I’ve kept you satisfied for so long.”

You walk into the elevator once the doors slide open and lean against the mirrored wall, arms crossed. Your eyes are squinted as you give Johnny a once over. He has done everything right since he completed his training. “You think you can keep me satisfied?”

There’s a challenging tone in your voice that causes Johnny to lick his lips. “I’d never disappoint you.”

Your response is a nod of your head paired with a drawn-out hum, and then you walk out of the elevator to your office once you hit your floor, walking ahead of Johnny without another word. You laugh at yourself when you replay the short conversation in your mind at the feeling you got in your gut at his response. And then you’re scoffing because, once again, it’s Johnny.

Johnny… Over six feet, amicable, charming, handsome as all hell Johnny. The scene of him licking his lips and saying those four words in that promising, deep voice in the elevator flashes through your mind once you’re seated at your desk. Your fingernail taps against the wood as you roll your lips together, stuck in your head. The ironic conclusion you come to before getting back to work is that you’re working way too much and just lacking male attention because there’s no other plausible reason for your goofy-ass assistant to have been on your mind so much for the last couple of days.

“Really?” Johnny asks when he walks in and sees you slumped over your desk.

Your eyes flutter open at his voice.

“I was just resting my eyes” you yawn, waving him off.

“What work is there possibly left for you to do at this point?” The products go on the market tomorrow, meaning all the work that had to be done in preparation for the launch was completed before everyone left today (the marketing department got their shit together quickly because they know about your policy and how unforgiving you are when the deadline is right around the corner). The only thing left for your marketing team to do tomorrow is look over everything once more and then you’re free to sit back and wait for customers to buy the new products and idly watch over social media if you really wanted to. It frustrates Johnny that you always find something extra to do.

“I was doing some last minute, um”— another yawn —“touches on the-”

“Well, that’s enough,” Johnny interrupts your explanation, walking around to your side of the desk and plucking the pen out of your hand.

You just nod and lean back in your ridiculously big swivel chair, blinking up at him slowly, because he’s right. There’s literally nothing else for you to do and you have the most full coverage concealer under your eyes; you need to rest.

“Am I driving you home tonight?” He asks as he packs your belongings into the massive purse on the box by your feet then places it on your desk so he doesn’t have to bend back down to retrieve it.

“Yeah, I don’t feel like moving,” you mumble, thankful you spent so much money on the chair you’re oh-so comfortable in.

Johnny puts his hands out for you to grab, and once you do so, he pulls you up. You groan and lean forward into him to catch your balance after not being on your feet for many hours, but then Johnny’s hand on firm on the middle of your lower back, and the pressure makes you stay. He’s just helping you steady yourself, a position you’ve been in once or twice before because you like to push your limits (says both your therapist and your assistant), but he smells good and he’s warm; his presence is comforting. It always has been, which is why he’s made the perfect assistant for you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking down at the top of your head that simply nods in response.

“Think I pushed my limit,” you admit, much to your assistant’s surprise. It’s not that you’re prideful, but you don’t exactly like showing weakness, especially in front of your employees.

Though tempted to just let you rest your head on his chest because he doesn’t mind the proximity at all and knows you’re somehow comfortable, Johnny makes sure you’re standing steadily by yourself so he can drape your coat over your shoulders. He grabs your purse and wraps an arm around your waist then guides you out of your office, all the way to the parking garage, saying goodbye to the confused cleaning staff on his way out.

He presses the button on the handle of the passenger side’s door to unlock it, opens the door, then fits you inside of his car. Johnny leans over your body to buckle your seat belt, and when he’s back away, he catches you looking at him with a look he can’t quite decipher.

“What’s up?”

You shake your head and blink slowly. “I just really appreciate you, John.”

Johnny just nods to save face and closes the door before making his way to the driver’s seat. He’s not quite sure how to feel or respond to the soft-spoken, sleepy side of you since it’s been months since the one other time you’ve been in a similar situation, and he wasn’t as smitten as he is now.

You’re fighting your sleep because even though you trust Johnny, you want to be as aware during this trip to your house. It’s a hard feat, though. His car is big and comfortable and the hum of the engine is trying to lull you into a deep sleep.

Johnny looks over at you after getting on the main road and notices your internal fight.

“You can fall asleep, you know.”

“You might take my organs.”

“I would’ve done that a long time ago if I wanted to,” Johnny humors you. His response brings a small smile to your face, and that keeps a smile on his own.

“You have a really pretty smile, John.”

“Thank you,” Johnny says, figuring it’s just your exhaustion talking.

“I’m almost jealous of how pretty your lips are,” you sigh, mouth not filtering your thoughts at this point of exhaustion (you’ve gotten 10 hours of sleep in the last week, but no one, especially not Johnny, needs to know that). You don’t care enough to try to “correct” yourself because the pretty curl of his lips gets even deeper.

“Really?” Johnny asks, trying his luck again because he’s sure tonight isn’t like the other day in your office. “You think my lips are pretty?”

You hum and cuddle into his seat even more. After staring at his profile a while longer, you tell him, “I think you’re pretty.”

That makes him laugh again, taken aback at the string of compliments coming out of your mouth towards him of all people. It’s not that you’re mean or don’t applaud him for his great work, but this is a very different side of you that he’s seeing. He likes it.

“That’s a first, but I’ll take it,” he says, taking a moment to look at you again before focusing on the road again. “Thank you.”

“Are you used to hearing ‘handsome?’ ‘Fine?’ ‘Sexy?’” You notice how Johnny’s brows lift. “Too far?”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re good. I like you when you’re nice.”

“You like me regardless,” you say with a sassy scoff, pretending to flip your hair even though it’s slicked back in a low bun, the same as every workday.

Johnny nods slowly, contemplating if he should humor you or just laugh you off. It literally takes him 0.5 seconds to go with the former option because he’s been waiting for the day the two of you step out of professional talk and get into something more personal, specifically between the two of you. “You got me there. I mean, what isn’t there to like?”

Your eyes squint as you analyze him and process his words. There’s a subtle but still very noticeable shift in the air after his question, and while you’re sure it’s your fault for letting your exhaustion let you feel comfortable enough to open your mouth and start spewing out nice things to your assistant, his response is enough to keep it up. It also doesn't help that this is a far more intimate setting than work.

“Be careful, you keep saying things like that and I’ll think you have a crush on me,” you tease him, chuckling at the snort he responds with.

Before Johnny snitches on himself, he flips the script. “Says the one staring at my lips long enough to deem them ‘pretty’ and calling me pretty, of all things.”

“Well,” you start as your gaze goes right back to his mouth at the mention of it. “It would be unprofessional of me to tell you that I think you’re fine as hell, so,” you shrug.

You and Johnny have always had a bit of banter between the two of you, and while this topic isn’t something that’s been covered before, it’s hard to really care when you feel comfortable enough to cross that line right now. If he hadn’t been playing along, you wouldn’t have said anything more than the simple compliment from earlier, but with the reciprocity, the logical voice within gets pushed away. Exhaustion isn’t much of an excuse at this point because that high from tiredness has passed.

The timing of the traffic light turning red is a little too perfect. Johnny takes the opportunity to look at you again, and something lights up in his chest when he catches how your eyes travel up from his mouth to look into his own eyes at his attention.

“It would be unprofessional,” he agrees with another nod of his head. “But I can’t say the feeling isn’t mutual.”

You hum and nod. “Good to know.”

“You must not be sleeping well for you to be throwing out compliments like that.” Johnny leans onto the middle counsel.

“I’m not saying anything I haven’t thought of for a while.” You tell him after a beat, choosing to reply honestly since you’re already here. Johnny quirks a brow to prompt you to elaborate, and you do so, mirroring his position and propping your chin in your hand. His face is a lot closer now, but you keep your eyes on his own orbs to avoid losing focus. “I hired you because of your experience and skill set, but I knew it wouldn’t hurt to have some eye-candy around me. Pretty privilege and all,” you wave a nonchalant hand. “You were perfect until you opened your mouth.”

“You can never be nice to me for long, can you?” he snorts.

“You’re perfect tonight, though,” you add on, specifically for the quirk of Johnny’s mouth that comes from the praise. Yeah, you failed the challenge.

“How so?” Johnny questions, quickly checking to see if the light has changed yet. It hasn’t, and for once in his life he’s grateful for a long light. He feels good about where this conversation could possibly get him after a year of silently admiring you, so good that he not-so-subtly gets even closer, definitely in your bubble, but nothing too crazy.

“You’re calm and collected and taking care of me,” you admit. The silent deep breath you take to calm yourself grants you access to the scent of Johnny’s cologne again, and your mind is so close to deciding that logic is unnecessary. A tiny voice in the back of your mind has been trying to get your attention and steer you in the opposite direction of the one you’ve decided to take, with how you tilt your head up to get just a little closer to him.

“You like being taken care of?”

“I love it,” you confess, and Johnny takes the chance to tuck a stray hair behind your ear as he hums, content with your response. Definitely an excuse to test the waters and see how far he can go and how willing you are to really cross this line. You turn your face into his hand so he cups your jaw, but then there’s a horn sounding behind you because the light is green, and Johnny begrudgingly has to pay attention to the road. You blink, the trance you found yourself in with him so close but so far away dissipating, the situation becoming a lot more real now that he’s out of your space. You slump back into your seat and look out of the window, that voice becoming louder and grounding you as you take another deep breath. “But allowing myself to be vulnerable with someone like that? Yikes.”

He knows your defense mechanism is trying to kick in, but he’s not having it.

“Aside from me?”

You hum. “Not quite…”

You set yourself up. From that moment in the elevator to now, you’ve been digging your own grave, and Johnny has done nothing but assist you, encourage you to dig deeper. You’re not sleepy anymore, there’s no more foggy brain from earlier when he found you asleep in the office. Just desire you’ve done a grand job of ignoring up until the last few days. But unfortunately, you have to remind yourself you’ve been ignoring it for a reason.

Your assistant almost doesn’t say anything because he loves his job and you clearly switched the direction of the conversation for a reason, but so much (yet so little) has already been said during your time in the car and you’ve already said enough to get the gears in his head turning.

“So you mean a different type of care?”Johnny asks. He pulls into your driveway and parks. He wants to get back to the space the two of you were at when stopped at that light, but you’re already unbuckling your seat belt and grabbing your purse, signifying that the moment is long gone. That doesn’t stop him from trying, though. “Do you need me to walk you in?”

“I think I’ve got it now, thanks.” You need to get inside and get some sleep. Are you running right now? Of course. You’re a responsible person and the most responsible thing for you to do as the woman that signs his paychecks, is to get the fuck away from him before he persuades you, because you both know it’s possible.

“Let me rephrase that:” he licks his pretty lips and your fist balls up around your purse’s straps. “Do you want me to walk you in? I know you didn’t need me to do most of what I’ve done tonight, but you let me because you wanted me to.” His ability to read you so well is both a blessing and a curse. “Now would you like for me to continue taking care of you tonight or not?”

You do. You absolutely do. You’re tempted to say yes in the case you don’t end up alone tonight, but you know it’s not a good idea. And you’re sure the atmosphere of this car ride will disappear by the time you wake up. At least that’s what you tell yourself because you know, ethics.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you tell Johnny, opening the door and stepping out. “Thanks for the ride. Drive safe.”

Johnny watches you walk up to your door, unlock it, then disappear into your house. He lets out a deep sigh before backing out of your driveway and driving home.

Tea, fruit slices, and avocado toast are set down in front of you the moment you walk behind your desk.

“Good morning,” Johnny greets you calmly. “Your eleven o’clock meeting has been pushed back thirty minutes, so I’d suggest using the opportunity to get out of the building and get some fresh air. You know, get away from electronics and people to recharge.”

That’s exactly what you’ll do. You’re going to be monitoring the Instagram engagement and website sales for a while, even though you pay people to be on top of numbers, so a break will definitely be needed.

“I love your brain, you know that?” you ask, looking up at him once your jacket and bag are off of your body, meeting his eye. The corner of Johnny’s mouth twitches.

“I told you I’d never disappoint you.”

“And I’m holding you to that.” You ignore the fact that there’s definitely another meaning behind his words. You can’t say the tension that last night’s conversation produced has gone away completely, but it’s weak enough for you to ignore it and stick to the amicable atmosphere the two of you have built for the last year plus.

“Would it be alright if I accompanied you during your walk?” Johnny prompts after a moment of him just standing there, pursing his lips together to refrain himself from grinning at you. “There’s something I’d like to run by you because I trust your opinion as my boss and my friend.”

“We’re friends?” you joke, settling into your seat.

“Last time I checked,” he responds, unfazed. “We could be even closer if you let yourself be vulnerable with me.”

And there it is.

“John,” you say after a brief pause. He’s got his hands in his pockets, face mostly void of emotion. Johnny doesn’t want things to go back to normal, and he’s decided to let you know in the most subtle, yet obvious way. Why ignore the feeling when it’s clearly mutual?

“Yes, boss?”

“You can leave now.”

The grin on the male’s face falters. He examines you to see just how serious you are, and he knows this isn’t one of your playful banter moments. He tries to call your name, either to ease the situation and tell you it was just a bad joke or to apologize, but you just remove your attention from him and get on your iPad.

And when he’s out of the room, the door closed behind him, you let out a frustrated sigh. Up until you fell asleep, if you weren’t thinking about your launch, you were thinking about him. If you weren’t thinking about the numbers from your last launch and the possibility of exceeding them, you were thinking of the way you felt and the words he said while you were in that intimate bubble before the horn honked at him. You had to take a couple melatonin gummies to shut your mind up and knock out. The sleep was amazing, the best you’d had in a while, but then when you were conscious again, Johnny was back.

You could have done without stepping into uncharted territory last night. To him, it may not seem as deep as you’re making it out to be, but there’s too much on the line for you. Your professionalism. Your pride. Your job, quite possibly. His job. You could pay him off if you decided to fire him, but you don’t want to deal with bribes making you feel like a shitty person. You don’t want a new assistant. You want Johnny.

At that very last thought, you pick up the phone and call Jaehyun to have him run the plan by you one more time. He thinks it’s because of his fuck up from before, and you just let him think that.

Thankfully, Johnny is out of your way until later in the night. He didn’t try to accompany you on your walk, but he has no choice but to be here at the company outing taking place to celebrate your products selling out within 4 hours.

All shots are on you, so your employees are taking advantage of this, recording as everyone clinks their shot glasses together and downs the painful alcohol down. You’re two shots in and you mentally note that three is your limit for tonight. Maybe four. You’re already a bit of a lightweight, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to make a fool of yourself in front of your employees. Regardless, you’re having a pretty good time. As a gift, your best friend rented out the bar, so it’s empty save for your large group, and Joohyun’s presence is a godsend. She’s being friendly enough to your employees and for the most part she hasn’t left your side, being the comfort she doesn’t realize you need.

“Congrats again, babe,” she says excitedly to you, pushing another shot in front of you as she scoots into the seat next to you. “Can we take that vacation in Bora Bora now that you’re free and even richer?” Her teasing smile makes you crack one of your own and sigh.

“You know that trip is for August. Be patient, Bae.”

She rolls her eyes but her expression doesn’t falter. Her gaze wanders a bit as she sips from her mixed drink and then she’s looking at you expectantly. You raise a brow to prompt her.

“How is it that all of your employees are hot as fuck?” she asks bluntly. “Even the women.”

You take a glance around like you don’t remember what everyone looks like. “I mean, I guess.”

“Especially a certain assistant.”

“Go for it,” you tell her, nodding in his direction. The said male is at the bar ordering something with his arm draped over Jaehyun’s shoulders, the two of them laughing about whatever the latter just said.

“You know that’s not why I said that,” Joohyun scoffs, swatting at your arm. You may have mentioned to her a while ago that your assistant is very nice on the eyes and you sometimes enjoy watching him as he does his job. “Plus, Jaehyun’s more my type.”

You shrug. “I’m sure they’d be down for a threesome.”

Your best friend hits you once again. “What’s with your mood? You’re not acting like someone who just sold out in only a few hours.”

Before she decided to bring a certain assistant up, you were doing pretty well. You’d been able to not look at him for too long or even have to speak to him much aside from a greeting and his congratulations before he was by Jaehyun’s side and Joohyun was by yours. But now, with him being mentioned, your eyes are having a hard time pulling away from his figure. His tie is loosened and the top few buttons of his shirt are undone. His sleeves are rolled up right under his elbows and show off the tattoo on his arm.

You rip your eyes off of him and down your shot. Yeah, you’re thinking four.

Joohyun’s incredulous laugh brings your attention back to her. “You didn’t.”

“What?”

She leans into your side to whisper, “You’re in a mood because of Johnny?”

You side-eye her because you don’t like how quickly she read you, and her smile grows wide.

“Oh, my—you slept with Johnny?!” she continues to whisper-yell.

“No,” you hiss. “I did not. But I could have and that’s the issue.”

“Not seeing the issue?” She’s always been the little devil on your left shoulder. “The only reason I brought him up is because I’ve noticed how often you have his attention when you’re not even in the same area. And I know the difference between a look of concern and a look of want. He’s got a good ratio of both going on.”

“Okay, Miss Couple’s Therapist,” you mutter. “You ever heard of conflict of interest?”

And that shuts her up. Only for a few seconds, though.

“All I’m saying is I know you’ve thought about it… and you’re probably thinking about it now,” she giggles, making it hard for you to keep glaring at her. “I’m just trying to help you understand that it wouldn’t be a bad thing if there is a mutual understanding between the two of you on what flies and what cannot and shall not happen regarding the matter. You’re both consenting adults and it’s obvious he’d be on his knees for you with the snap of a finger.”

You decide against telling her about last night’s situation nor do you let her know you’re considering her words. That you’ve been considering the whole thing for days.

You change the subject instead, asking her about how her latest trip overseas went.

It lasts for only so long when Johnny and Jaehyun make their way over to your table.

They greet the two of you and you give a nod, choosing now to be the perfect time to check your notifications, while Joohyun says, “Hey guys.”

“Why are you checking your phone when you should be enjoying your time?” Johnny asks right by your ear, his voice lacking excitement but instead low enough to almost make your thumb falter as you scroll. “Get off your phone and celebrate, please?”

You make the mistake of looking up. He’s too close to your face to use the music playing through the speakers in the bar as an excuse. His eyes don’t have their usual playful glint in them. They look down at you with a purpose, and you’re kind of embarrassed at how fast you comply with his request. You drop the device into your purse and zip it up for extra measures.

“Thank you,” he smiles. “I got this for you two, by the way.”

Johnny slides a plate of your favorite wings on the table.

“Aw thank you, Johnny,” Joohyun coos, shooting you an annoyingly smug glance. “Are you gonna sit with us?”

“Is that okay with you, boss?” Jaehyun asks after sharing a look with his friend.

“Have at it,” you smile tightly, gesturing to the seats across from you. While they make themselves comfortable, you steal your best friend’s shot and actively ignore the way she looks at you from the corner of her eye.

Joohyun and Jaehyun fall into conversation easily after she compliments the watch he’s wearing. You nibble on some celery, actively ignoring how Johnny’s still too close. He subtly squeezes your knee to get your attention, and when he’s got it, he tilts his head in the direction of the bar.

“I drank enough,” you tell him with a shake of your head.

“It’s not about a drink. I would like to speak to you alone, please,” Johnny explains in a whisper. A tiny voice in your mind says hell no because of what Joohyun has put in your head, but the rational voice reminds you that he is your assistant and you can’t avoid him forever.

You tell your best friend that you’re gonna get a drink and that you’ll be back, and when she notices Johnny getting up with you she nods with a whisper of a smirk on her lips all without breaking the conversation she’s having.

“What’s up?” you ask once seated on a barstool, at least a few seats away from everyone else.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I was trying to make light of the situation and I took it too far. As for last night, it was wrong of me to make a proposition like, so I want to apologize for that, as well.”

You nod as he speaks, letting his words process in your brain.

“I spoke out of line last night and gave you an opening, so that part was on me. I apologize and I hope we can move forward from it. Thank you for your apology.” You try to get up and make your way back to your table quickly, but Johnny gently grabs your hand until he knows you’ll stay in your seat.

For a moment he wanted to just apologize so you can stop being distant with him and he can stop purposely avoiding you for your space, but your response rubs him the wrong way and now he doesn’t really want to drop it. He wants to talk about it because the topic clearly came up for a reason last night and he’s tired of denying how he feels towards you, especially now that he knows he’s not alone after a while of thinking there was no way in hell his little crush would even get him this far.

“Can you not shut me out right now?”

You really don’t like his ability to see through you.

“I accepted your apology and gave you the one you deserved... how am I shutting you out?” you bullshit him anyway.

“I’m not gonna pretend that what happened last night didn’t happen. I can’t,” Johnny tells you honestly. “Can I speak to you as a friend instead of your employee for a moment?”

“I guess,” you shrug.

“As your friend, what I say cannot be held against me as your assistant.”

“Whatever, John. Go ahead.”

“I want you,” he confesses, and there’s really no going back from here. “I am very attracted to you and when you spoke about wanting to be vulnerable and taken care of last night it only made me want you more. And if there’s anyone you can let your guard down with and that will take great care of you, it’s me, and you know this.”

All you can do is stare at him for a while. If you hadn’t had that conversation with Joohyun a while ago you would not still be in this seat, letting him know you’re truly considering his proposition. The dip in your gut at his confession confirms your feelings, but your brain and your body conflict.

Can you separate business from pleasure in this instance?

If you allow your desires to become reality and it’s nothing like what you imagined, you’d never be able to look at him the same, no matter how good he is at his job. You’d either have to fire him or become so distant he’d want to quit. Would a bribe really have to be offered for the well-being of your precious company? The thought alone rubs you the wrong way.

But if you’re being honest with yourself, you just know it wouldn’t be a bad experience because it’s Johnny. He’s calculated and good at anything that gets thrown at him. You truly believe him when he says he’d never disappoint you. But how will you go about seeing him five days a week without seeing him in a different light? You’re professional but there would definitely be a change in your dynamic.

“I adore you as my assistant, John,” you finally speak up after too long. “And I do consider you a friend. I just don’t want to compromise our relationship over lust.”

“It’s not just lust, though,” Johnny states. “I’m not in love with you or anything but I care about you and want to take care of you the way we both know you need and deserve.”

He’s saying all of the right things and it’s almost as if the universe is rubbing him in your face. Your control is slipping and you don’t like it. You would love to be taken care of. You crave it. Running a business right before the age of thirty comes with so much stress and bullshit and you haven’t been taken care of in years, at least not properly. You’re content with being single because you give yourself everything you need and you love having your own space, but it does get lonely sometimes. And you can’t do everything yourself, at least not to the extent you need. Your eyes scan down from his face to his hands and your resolve gets a little weaker.

“I’m not going to push you, okay? I just had to let you know that I’m here to help you in many more ways than in the office and that if anything were to ever happen, my lips are sealed. I’d even sign a damn contract if that meant I could have you for just one whole day.”

“A whole day?” you ask before you can stop your curiosity from being known.

“I can’t elaborate on that. I can talk to you as a friend all I want but I know that too much detail can fuck up my job if you’re not down and I’m perfectly content with my job right now.”

He’s so vague, yet he’s said just the right amount. It’s easy to imagine what exactly could be in store if you release your inhibitions and just agree, but it’s not that easy. And Johnny understands that.

“Just think about it, alright?” He requests, and you nod slowly. “What drink would you like?”

“I’ve already had four shots—”

“No one said it had to be alcoholic,” Johnny laughs.

“Hello?” Johnny’s morning voice grumbles.

“Okay.”

It’s quiet on the other end of the line for a while as Johnny wakes up and decodes your single word. When he understands, his smile can be heard through his next words.

“Would you prefer I go to you or you come here?”

“I’ll go to you.”

“How does noon sound?”

“Good,” you nod, even though he can’t see the movement.

“Alright. There’s a couple of questions I have before you come over, though,” he tells you, his voice suddenly a lot more serious than it was before.

“Okay, go ahead,” you sigh, curling into a ball on your sofa.

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.” Of course you trust him. Johnny smiles at how quick your answer. “You know that.”

“Trusting me with your work and trusting me with your mind and body are completely different things,” he tells you matter-of-factly. “But yes, I did know. I just needed to ask.”

“I clearly trust you enough to be hours away from going to your place without thinking you’re gonna exploit or blackmail me.”

“And I appreciate it. As I said, I’ll sign a contract if you’re still in your head about it.” At the dismissive response you give him, he continues with his questions. “We’re not gonna be weird about this before, during, and especially after everything, right?”

“No, I won’t be weird,” you chuckle, knowing his ‘we’ translates to ‘you.’ “It would’ve took me way longer to give you an answer if I was still gonna be weird or standoffish.”

“What made you change your mind so quickly?”

You blink at the tree on the other side of your window blankly. It took less than a day to give him a response, and while he may have popped up in your dream last night, Joohyun was right. You want him and he’s not shy about letting you know how much he wants you in return, so why play this game of tiptoeing and faux unclarity?

“You’re asking too many questions now,” you deadpan. “I’ll see you later.”

The last thing you hear before you hang up is Johnny laughing quietly to himself, sounding endeared.

You’ve always been punctual, so when you knock on his door, it’s twelve on the dot. And Johnny was expecting this, with it only taking him a couple of seconds to unlock and open the door for you.

“Hey,” he greets you with a smile and you immediately take in his appearance, having never been around Johnny in anything but formal wear. You take in how he looks in the comfort of his own home, his brown hair is parted down the middle in comparison to how he always has it pushed back, and his fitted white tee shirt and joggers are a stark difference from the button-downs and slacks he usually adorns around you. He looks good either way, you note.

“Hey.”

You walk past him into his home and take your shoes off, and while pleasantries are exchanged, it’s Johnny’s turn to give you elevator eyes. The grey color of your athletic wear draws attention to the curve of your ass and hips. Your hair isn’t in its signature style, but out and flowing about freely. When you turn back around to face him he notices you don’t have your typical red lipstick on, just a clear sheen covering your lips. He didn’t think you could look any better, but here he is, being proven wrong.

You’re guided down a hallway and into his room, and the first thing you notice is a cute stuffed animal on his dresser. One you remember buying him for his birthday because that was his only request, seeing that it was limited edition.

“I still can’t believe you wanted this of all things,” you laugh fondly, picking it up and examining it.

“You gave me a budget and this fit in it,” Johnny shrugs, coming up behind you. His chest molds into your back naturally, causing you to look up from the plushie and up at him through the mirror in front of you. “There was no way in hell I was coming out of pocket for that myself when you were willing to spend big bucks on me.”

You relax into his chest, the vibration against your back a very pleasant feeling. “Touché.”

The last few days of building sexual frustration did nothing to prepare you for the suffocating blanket of tension that envelopes you once Johnny lifts your head up to the side and presses one of the gentlest kisses to your lips. Followed by another chaste one, and another until you find yourself chasing his lips.

“Feel free to bite into it when it becomes too much for you,” Johnny graciously offers in a whisper that tickles your lips.

You scoff, amused by his confidence.

“I’m a grown ass woman,” you remind him. “I promise you there’s nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“And I’m gonna hold you to that.” He nods, using your own words against you. You’re turned around by his hands on your hips until you’re facing him. A moment of silent eye contact translate to him challenging you before his pretty, soft lips slowly slide in time with yours.

The longer he kisses you, the more your body melts into his. You find yourself being pulled forward, him walking backwards. The kiss interrupted when he sits down at the foot of his bed, but then you’re pulled onto his lap, straddling him to resume it. A hand on the side of his face prompts him to deepen the kiss, and your mouth instantly opens when you feel his tongue brush against your bottom lip, the wet muscle minty when it touches your own and you curl yours around it to get an even better taste.

Your hands find his hair as his own grip your ass, pulling a muffled whimper out of you. And then you’re flipped onto your back, legs falling apart to give Johnny freedom to stand. He swiftly takes his shirt off and then he’s interrupted by your palms glide up his abdomen. You’ve never felt small around practically anyone in your adult years, but with how he hovers over you, you feel tiny. You know he and Jaehyun have been going to the gym frequently, but at this angle, you can really appreciate just how big and broad he is.

Originally, you figured you’d give him the reign to do whatever he wanted and you’d bask in being a pillow princess for once in your life, but in the position you’ve found yourself in, with his print in your face, you drag your hands back south and tug his waistband down.

Johnny just watches you silently until he understands you’re doing more than just assisting him with stripping. Your hand grabs hold of his semi (your mouth waters at how hung he is and you briefly wonder how you never noticed before), his sweatpants forgotten halfway down his thighs. The way your eyes have tunnel vision and you lick your lips tells him your plan. “You wanna suck my dick?” he asks anyway, making sure he accessed this correctly.

Your eyes fly up to meet his gaze. “Yeah. You want me to?”

“You think I’d ever say no to you?”

His response goes straight in between your legs, so you focus your attention back on his dick, which has grown some during the time of your small interaction, and you might be a little more excited about this than you initially thought you’d be.

You let spit fall from your mouth onto his tip, then spread it down with your hand. You flick your wrist up and down a few times and lean forward, licking a broad stripe up his shaft. At the deep exhale he releases, you glance up at him through your lashes, and the sight of him with his jaw tightened in anticipation makes you want to give him so much more, so you suck the tip into your mouth.

Fingers move your hair behind your ear for you and if you still had any inhibitions at this point, they’re lost now. Your head bobs back and forth slowly as you continue to look him in his eyes; it’s hard to look anywhere else when you’ve never been looked at so intensely in this position. You gather spit on the tip of your tongue and spread it across his head, circling the wet muscle around it until he hums and you need to feel the weight of him back inside.

“Tap my leg, okay?”

You furrow your brows at his words, but your silent question is answered when there’s a hand on the back of your head and the tip of his dick hits the back of your throat lightly as if in warning before his hips pull back then he’s back in your throat. Your hands come up to his thighs as he sets a slow pace to fuck your face, and when his head falls back the moment he realizes he can go as far as he wants, you close your eyes and prepare for the onslaught you know you’re about to take.

Johnny’s hips instantly pick up speed and roughness, and while he’s still in control of himself, he loses a bit of sanity. After a year of silent pining and thinking this would never happen, he’s fucking his boss's face, and of course, of fucking course you don’t have a gag reflex.

You stick your tongue out flat to lick at the bottom of his shaft as he does the rest of the work and the feeling of spit bubbling out the sides of your mouth and making its way down your chin digs your fingers into his skin since you can’t clench your thighs together. Your hair is gathered for extra leverage, and the pull of your scalp is such a delicious feeling you moan helplessly just when your nose comes in contact with trimmed hairs.

“Shit,” he hisses, picking his head back up to watch as he slows back down but thrusts in rougher. You clearly enjoy being used like this, spit traveling down your chin to the point of landing on your jacket and darkening the material. You’re a mess in the best possible way, and this is an image that will haunt his memory for a very long time.

More of his resolve crumbles at the feeling of your hands curling around to his butt to press him even closer into you, even further down your throat. You haven’t even been touched, barely kissed, but you’re lightheaded and extremely aroused. While he contemplates if he should cum down your throat or wait until he’s buried in your pussy, you’re silently hoping he lets you taste him soon.

Johnny drags his dick out of your mouth at an extremely slow pace, and how you wrap your lips around him and open your hooded, darkened eyes to look at him again shoots a shiver of pleasure up his spine.

“Never would’ve thought,” he says around an amused exhale.

“Hm?” you prompt, releasing him with a loud pop.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. He grips his dick with his free hand and taps the tip on your awaiting tongue, amused and extremely turned on. Smearing fluids over your tongue and lips, he softly demands: “Play with your pussy for me.”

The smile you give him is a concoction of wicked and endearing. He releases your hair as you manage to wiggle out of your leggings. You soaked through your lace and leggings, you both notice, and Johnny stops you with a disapproving hum when you make a move to remove your panties as well. You squint, he laughs and shakes his head.

“Over your panties.” You roll your eyes but listen nonetheless, slipping your hand in between your thighs. The material is extremely wet to the touch, and the slickness helps with making the friction pleasurable when your fingertips find your clit and begin rubbing circles. “Slowly.”

Johnny finds your huff of frustration adorable.

The tip of his dick taps your mouth again to gain your attention. You suck spit up to the front of your mouth, then your mouth is stretched wide once again, hand back in your hair.

Having your throat fucked with the additional pleasure on your clit, even with the slow pace you’re forced to go at, has you practically whining, the sound going in and out as he goes in and out your mouth. That vibration only spurs Johnny to grip your locks tighter and thrust in deeper to feel as much as your mouth and throat offer.

“You were made for this, huh?”

“Mhm,” you affirm, eyes rolling back at the way he pulls your hair to tip your head back and get a different, much better angle.

Johnny honestly didn’t expect you to submit so easily to him. The visual of your face all messy, eyes hardly opened to look into his eyes and hair out of place while touching yourself sparks that feeling in his lower abdomen.

“You want me to cum in your mouth?” You hum again and even with a mouth full of dick you manage to smile. You’re getting what you wanted. “Don’t swallow it until I tell you to.”

It takes a few more strokes for Johnny to fulfill your wish. The moment his head falls back again you use your free hand to caress his balls, and that does it. He leaves the tip in so that his cum pools onto your tongue and strokes every drop out. The groan he lets out causes you to unintentionally swipe at your clit faster, but he’s distracted anyway.

“Let me see,” Johnny says after collecting himself and stepping back. You straighten your head so none slides down your throat and open your mouth wider for his inspection. He smiles in approval, wishing he could take a picture of the sight before him. “Swallow.”

You lick your lips and wipe away all the spit that traveled outside of your mouth with the sleeve of your jacket after doing so.

Johnny completely removes his pants before he leans down to kiss you again. His tongue languidly licks against the seam of your mouth for an entrance that you grant instantly. While it curls around your own and he gets a taste of himself, Johnny’s hand guides you to bend one leg and he caresses your outer thigh.

“Good?” Johnny asks for extra measure, lips just barely dragging across your cheek to press opened mouth kisses on your jaw. Your head automatically tilts to the opposite side to give him more real estate. You hum, your mouth a bit preoccupied with how your teeth have trapped your bottom lip.

Your breath stutters at the gentle scrape of his teeth along the length of your neck after he unzips the high neck of your top to expose more skin. Whichever scent you chose to put on today has Johnny latched onto your neck for a while, kissing, licking, nibbling the skin to the point of your breath coming out a lot louder than before and the seat on your underwear getting uncomfortably wetter. You’re throbbing at this point and not being touched enough, so you claw at his sides and call his name quietly.

Johnny eventually spreads your legs more and maneuvers himself in between them. Both of your legs bend at the knee to accommodate his large build in the middle of them, and the hand that isn’t keeping himself propped up by your head kneads your hip.

“You know how long I’ve been wanting to get you like this?”

“How long?” you prompt, voice hardly above a whisper.

“Since the day you gave me a tour of the building,” he admits and slowly rises until he’s up on his knees.

“That’s a long time,” you respond lamely, hardly caring when your pussy is practically screaming at you to be touched. He raises a brow, and when he looks back up at your face, your lip is back in between your teeth.

If he doesn’t touch you soon you might explode.

“I’ve wanted this for a while, too,” you decide to confess, hoping it gets you somewhere. And it does. It’s almost like you’re rewarded for it by Johnny walking back on his knees until he’s far enough to settle on his stomach, face barely inches away from the apex of your thighs. He subconsciously licks his lips at the smell of you. He’s been wanting to taste you for so long now, but he refrains himself because he sees how you’re affected by the lack of attention to your heat. He promised he’d take care of you and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. But not before breaking you.

“Wish you would’ve told me sooner,” he eventually tells you after having you hold your breath for way too long.

“You know I couldn’t.” The way Johnny looks at you, attentive to every word that comes out of your mouth while he smoothly scoops your legs over his shoulders to wrap his arms around your thighs, makes you continue speaking. “Seems like everything fell into place, though.”

Johnny nods, rests his head on one of your thighs, and looks up at you, brown eyes still watching your mouth intently, as he unhooks one of his arms to push your right leg further to the side. His fingers are soon on your center, gliding up and down your slit, bumping into your clit with each pass.

“I guess it did.”

Before you can reply, he adds more pressure behind his touch, and your hips just barely lift to get even more. The smile you get in return is attractive as all hell but annoying. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you or he’s just really enjoying himself. Either way, you’re getting more impatient by the second, if the way your hips rise to grind your core against his fingers again says anything.

“Stay still for me, okay?” You almost pout because you need more, but you promised to give him total control of the situation and you’ve done well thus far, so you press your ass back into his comforter. “There you go.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing.

The light pressure on your clit is soon gone and then the zipper of your jacket gets dragged down all the way. “Take this off for me.”

Sitting up, you do as told. You toss it where your leggings had been dropped and now you’re presented in front of the awe-struck brunet in just your matching set of underwear. You figured you’d wear something nice under your clothes, both for Johnny’s pleasure and for your confidence, and with how Johnny’s eyes settle on the way your breasts are trying to burst out of your snug lacy bra, you know you chose well.

A hand slides up your torso to grab one of your breasts and squeeze it. Somewhere in the midst of him fondling your chest and pressing teasing, yet promising kisses on your inner thighs your eyes drift shut again as you bask in the pleasure. One of your own hands comes up from your side to slide under the cup of your unoccupied tit and pull at your nipple.

The tip of Johnny’s tongue drags dangerously close to your annoying-still-clothed heat and your patience is shot.

“John…”

“Yes?”

“I need more.”

He has the audacity to hum and give your clit a kitten lick. “Do you?”

You huff, stuck between just pushing his face into your pussy or doing what he asks of you, but you promised, so you suck in a breath and give him what he wants.

“John,” you say again, almost whining.

He doesn’t say anything, just continues to look at you expectantly. And when too much time goes by, it somehow hits you what he wants from you and you groan quietly to yourself.

“Please.”

“That was very convincing,” Johnny snorts. His nose glides across the inside of your thigh like he’s got all the time in the world. It tickles in the best way, but it’s nothing but teasing and you’ve been stimulated enough that if you go more than a couple of seconds more without his mouth giving you direct pleasure, you’ll go insane. So with a great amount of willpower, you try again.

“Johnny,” you whine, giving him your best pout. Addressing him so informally feels foreign, but the way his eyes light up encourages you to keep going.“Please?”

And of course a big smile takes up half of his face and you mentally prepare yourself for what’s next to come. He peels your panties off, both of you watching the line of slick that stretches then breaks in the process, and when you spread your legs even more for him, his mouth salivates.

Johnny makes sure you’re looking into his eyes as his tongue licks a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit. He wants to be smug at the gasp you let out, but the taste of you shuts his ego up quickly.

You squeak when you’re suddenly flipped onto your stomach and your ass is lifted up into the air. With yet another broad lick to coat his taste buds with your essence, Johnny buries his face in your pussy. He uses the tip of his tongue to collect the puddle of wetness you’ve produced and smears it over your clit, soon digging inside to directly stimulate the bundle of nerves.

Johnny’s lips close around your clit and he sucks on it softly. As the moments pass he gradually sucks harder to the point of you not being able to fight the way your eyes flutter shut and hips push back. He’s nice about the movement, just grabbing your hips to keep you still, soon caressing and kneading.

“Mm, that feels good,” you compliment. At that very moment, Johnny decides to roll his tongue in up and down motions and apply more pressure behind his hands. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

He prompts you with a hum of his own.

With how your moans start to get louder and your breath gets quicker and harder, not to mention the tingles you feel building in intensity, you know you’re already close. It’s a beautiful yet frustrating feeling because you don’t want this to end so soon after waiting so long. But you also want him inside of you so bad now.

Johnny comes back up to circle your entrance, and then he goes even higher.

“Are you— fuck,” you groan deeply.

Your hands grip the pillow your face is buried in and your eyes have found the back of your head again. Johnny just hums at the way you react, the octave of your voice as you let out your sounds of pleasure go straight to his dick. His tongue licks filthily up and down, not leaving an inch untouched nor missing a drop of your juice. His fingers rub your entrance until he slides one in. One becomes two after a few pumps, then his thumb presses into your clit and your back is arched almost uncomfortably.

“Johnny,” you whine again, breath hiccuped.

“Yes?” he prompts, lifting his head and looking up to see your face peaking around your body, smushed into his pillow still.

“I wanna cum,” you tell him. It feels too good now. “Fuck, I need to come, Johnny.”

“Then cum for me.” His voice is so gentle yet commanding as his digits speed up. He tongues the skin between your holes sloppily and you try to curl into yourself, your mouth wide opened with no sound coming out of it, your walls clenching madly around the fingers inside of you, and your grip on the cushion is borderline painful.

Johnny helps you ride out your orgasm for as long as possible until your body begins shuddering due to oversensitivity. He gradually slows down to a stop, then removes himself from your body to let you breathe correctly. While he sucks on his fingers, he uses his clean hands to soothingly rub your back, waiting for you to calm back down.

You’re a bit dazed during the transition of more kissing that leads you on top of him, straddling him once again. You vaguely remember the caresses on your waist or the pinch of his fingers playing with your nipples, but the feeling of your bare pussy dragging against his dick is very memorable because it sparks a desperate need within you to sit on it.

Johnny’s hands on your hips move you to continue the friction, moving you back and forth on his dick easily. Foreheads connected as you catch your breath from the kiss you just broke away from, the two of you watch silently as his head reappears and disappears behind your lips, turning you both on until he’s fully hard again and you can’t handle him not being inside of you anymore.

You lift up on your knees to align his tip with your entrance. A silent look is exchanged where you ask and he nods once. He lets you take your time, enjoying the feeling of his tip directly rubbing against your sopping entrance.

Your labored breaths at the sensation bring his attention to your chest, and his mouth wraps around a nipple without a thought. By now, you deem his dick wet enough to press his head in your hole and press your hips down. The moment he slides in your head falls back because the stretch burns in the best way. It feels like time doesn’t exist as you work your way down his length, inch by inch. Your hips naturally find a slow rhythm as you lift and drop them to take in more until he slides in and out easily.

When your features no longer show discomfort, Johnny begins moving with you. Every time he lifts his hips up a little to meet your thrusts his body slumps down the headboard. His hands are loose on your waist as you move your body up and down and he’s got the perfect view of his dick going in and out of your core while you’re controlling the pace and intensity. The muscles in your thighs start to burn, so you slow down to a stop and carefully slide your way down until your clit comes in contact with his pubic bone, resulting in your eyes rolling back, hips grinding on their own accord.

“How the fuck do you feel this good?” Johnny groans deeply, hands gripping your ass to assist your movements.

His compliment, his hungry, intense gaze as they take you in from your eyes—which mirror his own—down to the trail of slick you’ve left behind on his tamed curls from the swivel of your hips, and the way his cock rubs against your g-spot send you over the edge within moments. Johnny soothingly rubs a cheek with one hand while the other caresses your arched spine, keeping his hips still to let you ride your orgasm out on your own.

You slump into him, head on his shoulder, panting against his neck. A sigh of content slips out when Johnny hugs you tightly against his broad chest right before asking, “You alright?”

“Great,” you reply breathlessly.

Johnny smiles at the positive response. He lifts his hips experimentally and gauges your reaction, which is a satisfied hum.

“You want more?” he asks, hands moving to your hips to carefully grind against him. How could you say no? “Hands and knees, baby.”

You begin climbing off to the side of him then he follows your lead and lifts himself up so you can settle on your knees and bend until your face slides onto his pillow. Your hands grab the sides of it in anticipation.

A deep groan sounds from behind you, so you crane your neck and see the way he stares down at how he can see everything you have to offer him at this moment. One hand goes to his dick while the other massages one of your cheeks. He runs the swollen tip of his dick along your slit, collecting what’s oozed out. You close your eyes and relax the side of your face into the cushion beneath it and take a breath, preparing yourself for the stretch and intensity this angle never fails to bring.

He slowly starts to breach your entrance. There’s a pause, then you hear him spit down before more of him slips inside of you inch by inch with each roll of his hips. He keeps his movements shallow for a while and your walls reaccept him easily. A particular thrust sends him deep inside of you, his tip just barely kissing your cervix. Your body’s first instinct is to run away from it. His hands on your hips stop you from fleeing, holding you still and rubbing the skin there to ease you.

“I won’t go too deep,” he tells you, hips still as he kisses up your spine and makes you dizzy by the tenderness of it all. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You nod at his promises and take another steadying breath, then the pleasurable friction is back. You’d believe anything he told you with that intoxicating voice of his.

A loud, embarrassing squelch comes out of your core when he’s sheathed inside that makes you bury your face into the pillow. There’s one last kiss at the top of your spine before the body heat from his chest is gone and he’s back upright. He finds his rhythm easily, and hands return to your backside, fingers digging into the flesh, no doubt leaving behind white imprints. He uses his grip as leverage to fuck down into you at a different angle that allows him to speed up and rip an unrestrained moan from your throat.

“You okay?”

You nod violently and sob, “Yes! Oh, my god, yes.”

Content, Johnny hums and you just know he’s grinning down at you by the sound of his voice when he asks: “Feels good?”

“So good,” you whine, unable to close your mouth or stop noises from coming out of it. You begin dropping your hips down to meet his thrusts, the loud smacks of skin against skin echoing and bouncing off of the walls of his room. “Fuck it feels so good, Johnny.”

“I know, baby” he groans. “And this pussy feels so fucking good—shit.”

The two of you get lost in the rhythm you’ve created and no more words are exchanged for a while, just the sound of groans that comes deep from Johnny’s throat and whines and pants that make you drool all while drying your throat out. The room has gotten increasingly hotter and your bodies now shine with a thin, sticky sheen that makes the back of your thighs stick to the front of his own every time he fucks back into you. Your sensitive nipples rub harshly against the sheets, stimulating you even further to the point of another sob ripping out of your throat and your walls fluttering around his girth.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. Your divulgence prompts him to reach his arm under you to graze his fingertips over your engorged clit and then you’re repeating your words over and over again until your actions meet your words and you’re cumming all over him. Your essence drips down the insides of your thighs and his balls and his thrusts create wetter, louder noises. A swivel of your hips causes his dick to pop out and suddenly your body is vibrating.

“There you go, baby,” Johnny praises you, sliding back into you and precisely hitting that spot within you a few more times until your pussy clenches again and he pulls out again, letting more wetness spray the sheets under you.

“Look at you,” he continues with a deep chuckle. “Making such a big mess.”

You don’t know if he really meant for you to look but your curiosity gets the best of you and you lift your head and look in between your legs. There’s a dark puddle on his sheets and another whine leaves your body, your head falling back into the pillow.

“Can you handle more?” Johnny asks you softly, slapping the top of your asscheek with his dick.

You need more. You don’t know what the hell Johnny has done to you and your body but you feel empty and not satisfied enough. Your core is raw at this point but you want nothing more than to feel the velvety skin of his thick, long dick sliding in and out of you and hitting every spot in you that makes your body convulse again.

“Please,” you beg, wagging your hips to emphasize your needs. “Please, Johnny.”

“I’ve got you begging now?” He sounds so turned on yet taken aback, another dark laugh vibrating your body at the nod of your head and movement of your body. If you were in your right mind, you would be ashamed of your behavior and submission to your assistant, but you’re not. And who cares when you’ve never felt this way before and crave to feel even more?

“I need it,” you confess without shame. “Need you back inside of me.”

Johnny doesn’t need any more convincing to be back, deep within you and instantly satisfying you again. Your breath stutters and it’s not easy to speak in coherent sentences, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to voice your pleasure and appreciation to the brunet whose self-control only continues to dissolve the faster he slams into you and the higher your voice gets.

Both of your breath patterns get quicker, loud, more erratic, signaling the approach of his first release and your third? Fourth? You can’t keep up with it when your brain has turned into mush and you can barely remember your own name, only his own registering in your brain. His name rolls off of your tongue like a mantra, driving him insane behind you.

“Where do you want me to cum?” he pants. It takes you too long to swallow in an attempt to lubricate your throat and answer him, Johnny humming in question impatiently.

“My back,” you manage to squeak out. You’re impressed with the amount of control he has, the slamming of his hips into your ass somehow speeding up and getting rougher. Johnny lacks the control and precision from before, and the way his tip kisses your cervix rips a yell out of you, eyes watering as you hold on for dear life. He releases a drawn out groan from deep within, and not too long later you feel ropes of cum land on your lower back and ass.

Your body is shaking. Tears leak out of your eyes, your breath is hard to catch, and quiet cries come out. You’re gently flipped over and pulled into strong arms, quickly finding comfort in the chest you settle into.

“You’re okay, baby,” Johnny’s soft voice says to you, but you can’t open your eyes or your mouth to acknowledge him. You’re confused about why you’re reacting to this, but you don’t dislike it. Especially when you have Johnny to soothe you and help you calm down. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

You shake your head and finally try to respond, but it takes a couple of coughs and harsh swallows of spit to do so. “No. I feel good. Everywhere.”

Your speech is choppy, unlike your usual way of speaking, but stringing words into sentences that flow well is too much work right now. Johnny doesn’t mind; he loves that he had that effect on you after you’ve had him under your spell for so long. He loves the fact he successfully kept his promise to you and now you’re boneless in his arms.

He reaches for the glass of water on his nightstand and hands it to you. “Are you ready for a bath?”

“Can I fall asleep in the bath?” you ask, wiping your face tiredly.

“Sure,” Johnny says softly before setting you down on the dry part of the bed. “I’ll come get you once it’s ready.”

That’s how the rest of the day plays out, you getting taken care of in multiple ways. Your favorite method is with his tongue and fingers as he made out with your pussy for what felt like hours in lieu of an apology for going so hard. And maybe Johnny purposely falls asleep next to you after you’re bathed, fed, and exhausted from coming, curled up into his side in the new sheets because he wants you to stay a little longer. There’s no way in hell he’ll ever get to see this side of you again after today.

“Good morning,” Johnny greets you. It’s eight in the morning the following Monday, and he’s got your avocado toast and fruit in his hands as he walks up to your desk.

You're rummaging through your bag looking for the bobby pins you threw inside of it this morning in your rush to get to work on time because believe it or not, you overslept. You give up in favor of looking up to greet him back, but your voice decides not to come out when your eyes lock with his. There hadn’t been any contact since you woke up in the middle of the night and he walked you to his door with a lingering kiss that quite literally took your breath away to close out the short chapter of your relationship you’d just created. You were still tired, but you definitely were not supposed to sleep over, so it was nothing.

But now, seeing the same eyes that stared into your own while you came and cried his name multiple times, all you can do is blink. And then he licks his pretty lips. You knew this would happen. You’re not mad at it, though. How could you be when you��d never experienced someone like him before? In hindsight, there was no possible way to go back to normal after the intimacy, tenderness, and raw attraction you shared that day. No possible way to never want another taste.

“You okay?” he asks unsurely, setting your plates down.

And here it comes.

“Johnny,” you say lowly, setting your bag down. The quirk in his brow and the corner of his mouth lets you know he’s onto you. And that just makes things easier for you. “Lock the door.”

yikesssssss

#johnny seo scenarios #johnny seo scenario #johnny seo smut #nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct smut #lets not talk abt the ending i needed to end this monster

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godmother-encanto-au · 2 years

Text

Godmother Chapter Twelve-Rupture

In which trying to separate an immortal being from the human its' imprinted on goes a bit pear-shaped, and the whole Encanto reaps the consequences.

Apologies for the lateness of this chapter! It has been a very hectic time of the year for me and I'm finally able to sit down for long enough to get this done.

A wee note on the use of mythical creatures here: One thing I've always found fascinating about world culture is the common thread that runs through folklore and how certain stories are repeated by cultures that have little to nothing else in common. Many cultures have their own version of the Cinderella tale with different elements (Aschenputtel for slavic, Yeh Shen for Chinese, Rhodopis for Egypt) and I've found a lot of places have a creature that tempts humans into the water to drown them (usually a beautiful woman, occasionally a very nice horse)! The creatures I reference in this fic are not completely accurate, I've taken a lot of liberties with them, but they do broadly resemble different icons in world folklore.

Specific note on this chapter: Can you guess what my favourite film is?

…..

Mirabel's dreams were strange, muddy and sour. It felt like she was trying to walk through a marsh but all her limbs were weighed down by something slimy that dragged on the ground. There was a raw taste in her mouth, rusted metal and old blood. She couldn't see anything through a thick brown fog.

When she did wake up, her head was pounding. Her muscles ached like she had been running all night. She lay in bed, unmoving, hoping for the headache to melt away, until Luisa knocked and then barged through the door.

“Hey Mira, we're waiting to start breakfast, did you need some...are you okay?”

Luisa loomed over the bed, searching Mirabel's face worriedly.

“Just a headache,” Mirabel groaned, pushing herself up to a seated position. The room spun a little.

“It's all that palm sugar,” Luisa said, shaking her head. “I don't know how you can stand it, more than a spoonful gives me the shakes. I can bring your breakfast up to you if you're not feeling well enough...?”

“No, no,” Mirabel waved her off. “Start without me, I'll be down in five minutes.”

“Okay. You want some help getting dressed?”

“No, I'll be fine. I just need to get up and get moving, right?”

Luisa was a firm believer in the power of proper circulation to fix any problem, ironic for a daughter of a supernatural healer. She hadn't had an injury or illness healed by her mother since she was a child, and put it down to the stretches and jogs she did every morning without fail. Humouring her was the fastest way to get her to leave you alone.

Luisa thundered away and down the stairs, and Mirabel struggled out of bed. Her headache eased a little, but a heavy feeling settled in her hands and feet, like she was holding weights with them. Her stomach was churning, and her skin tingled. It felt itchy, like tiny pinpricks poking through. She shivered, with each pinprick a wave of coldness rushed through her blood.

Something wasn't right. She pulled on her clothes and washed up for breakfast achingly slow, all the time looking for something that was off. Outside the window, the crop of butterflies that were usually there to greet her were missing. She strained to hear the distant whispering from outside the Encanto, but there was dull silence.

It's just a virus or something. They'll stay away if they know I'm sick.

The corn husk doll in the window smiled with its blood-red mouth. Why had Senóra García given the doll a face? It looked out of place on a traditional doll, gaudy. Mirabel reached out to see if she could wipe away the paint, which still looked somewhat wet...

...a sharp pain ran through her finger and echoed throughout her body, knocking her to the ground. She examined her shaking hand, expecting to see blood, but the skin was unharmed.

“Mirabel? You okay up there?”

“I'm fine!” she called back, trying to keep the trembling out of her voice.

It's a fever or a virus, nothing more.

Unsettled, she made her way downstairs to where everyone else was halfway through breakfast. She tried to act as normal as possible, though a few concerned glances from her family showed that she wasn't doing a very good job.

Julieta, the very person who should have picked up on it first, seemed unbothered.

“Luisa said you have a headache,” she said, placing the usual milk-and-palm-sugar mix in front of Mirabel.

“It's nothing big, I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Mirabel mumbled.

“We should start trying solid food again soon, all this sugar is probably messing with your system.”

Mirabel took a look inside the cup before she drank. Was the milk always this dark? It had a brown tinge to it, like pale caramel. She sniffed it; it didn't smell any different, but the consistency was thicker than usual.

“Is there something else in this?” she asked Julieta, who was taking her seat at the table again.

“No,” Julieta shrugged. “We ran out of the usual palm sugar, I had to borrow some from Senóra Gúzman. I think their's is more raw than ours.”

With Julieta and Mirabel both settled at the table, Alma took up her usual agenda for the day; assigning tasks to everyone. The family half-listened between bites of food and sips of coffee. Things were finally starting to feel normal again. Mirabel sipped her milk, gagging a little on how thick it was. Had the milk turned? Was this a milkshake in disguise to slip a few extra calories into her?

Even the aftertaste was odd. It was bitter, and it stung slightly like alcohol. The little pinpricks running all over Mirabel's skin surged. A pressure built in her blood, pushing through her veins and arteries to the surface.

…..

The court felt the pressure from their own realm. A few of them had tried to take up the usual position watching over the butterfly queen's child near the living house, but the atmosphere around it had turned aggressive towards them. It stank of old iron and bitter herb, they could not cross the boundary without risking their lives. They were a cautious people, they trickled back to their home ground to wait for orders from the queen.

When the queen returned from her gathering, she knew that once again the mortals were trying to sever the bond between herself and her child. Her fury was boiling hot, melting rocks and simmering water. They had done this to her before, when the child was still too young to bind to her forever. It would not happen again.

She gave her orders, and thousands of butterflies and moths fluttered out into the outskirts of the Encanto, hissing and whispering to each other as they went.

…..

Luisa kept one eye on Mirabel over breakfast. Just when she thought things were finally getting back to normal, it looked like she was ill again. Her face was drained of colour, and she was staring into her glass like she thought the milk was sour.

With duties assigned, the rest of the table made the usual small talk. Isabela was trying to get a rise out of Luisa, teasing her about one of the corn farmer's sons who seemed very taken with her, but Luisa was only half-listening.

“I mean, he's pretty strong in his own right,” Isa chattered. “He'd have to be, you know? All that harvesting work is basically like lifting weights...”

“Sounds like he's better for you than me,” Luisa jabbed back, squinting a little in Mirabel's direction. There was still nearly half a glass of milk left, if she was giving up drinking the milk-and-palm-sugar then she was going to starve to death.

“Yeah, no,” Isabela said. “He's not my type. And he's not interested in me anyway, he's interested in you!”

Luisa could have bit back by saying no man at all was Isabela's type, Isabela's type was plump with a wide bosom and a jolly smile and worked at the tavern and wore red petticoats and was named Luz, but now wasn't the time for that conversation. In fact, that conversation was unlikely to ever happen, at least while Abuela was still alive.

“Think of the babies,” Isabela continued. “You could have the world's strongest babies. And you could go on tour with them as the world's strongest family.”

“Again, this sounds more like a you thing than a me thing,” Luisa deadpanned.

“Well, we need someone to have a romantic life to gossip about,” Isa shrugged. “Dolores isn't even married yet and she's already boring.”

“What's stopping you?” Dolores shot back from across the table. “You're the oldest, technically you should be the one trying to get married before me.”

“Traditionally! Tradition is for normal people. Anyway, if we were really going by tradition we'd be trying to get rid of Camilo first.”

Camilo choked on his aguapanela, briefly shifting into his father and back again.

“Get rid of me? What?” he gasped.

Dolores snorted, and elbowed Camilo in the ribs.

“That's not an option,” she said sweetly. “He only has eyes for that tavern girl...Luz, isn't it?”

Luisa didn't miss how Isabela's muscles tensed up at the mention of the tavern girl's name.

“I don't have eyes for her,” Camilo huffed. “Benito does, I just go along with him when he wants to look at her through the window.”

“Right, right.”

“For solidarity, you know.”

“And her tiny little blouses don't have anything to do with it?”

Isabela looked on the verge of manifesting a vine to strangle Camilo with, so Luisa cast her gaze around the table, looking for something to change the subject with. Her eyes landed on Mirabel, who was sitting so still it was easy to forget she was there...

Oh...

“Mira, you okay?” she asked, casting around the table for a clean napkin. “Why didn't you say anything?”

Dark venous blood, almost black in colour, was trickling from Mirabel's nose. She didn't seem to have noticed, she remained in her chair clutching her glass and staring at nothing. Rounding the table to dab at her nose with a napkin, Luisa noticed that she was faintly trembling.

“Luisa? What's going on?” Alma called from the head of the table.

“Mirabel has a nose bleed,” Luisa called back.

She held the cloth tightly pressed to Mirabel's nose as the rest of the family began to fret and huddle closer to get a better look. There were a few dark droplets on the tablecloth in front of her; how had she not noticed? Julieta gently pushed Luisa's hands away and took the cloth herself, she tried to push Mirabel's head back but Mirabel wouldn't budge.

“Does it hurt? Do you feel sick?” she asked, but Mirabel wouldn't answer.

“She said she had a headache when I went to get her for breakfast,” Luisa murmured. “She said it wasn't a big deal...”

“Maybe she fell on it?” Pepa fretted. A small wind was picking up around her, tossing her curls around her face. “We heard banging up there, maybe she fell? And didn't tell us?”

The family hovered, riddled with anxiety. A dozen hands offered clean napkins, someone offered to go boil some water, all the while Julieta tried to staunch the blood and searched her daughter's face for what was wrong.

Julieta was the only one that didn't immediately shrink back in horror when Mirabel's eyes started streaming that same dark blood. Struck dumb, they could do nothing but watch as Julieta cursed under her breath and tried to stem the flow. The blood tinted Mirabel's eyes scarlet as she tried to blink.

“I need another set of hands,” Julieta said through gritted teeth.

Somehow, Luisa fought through her terror and grabbed another napkin. She held it under her sister's left eye and nose. The napkin was saturated in less than a minute, her own hands turned crimson and sticky.

“We need to send for the doctor,” Alma said, going for the door. Luisa had never heard her sound so afraid.

She never got as far as the door. Suddenly, Mirabel's chair lurched backwards to the wall, where it shattered with a sickening crack. Mirabel was only on the floor for a moment before some unseen force lifted her up and threw her down, splashing a gout of blood across the tiles. She thrashed, back arched at an unnatural angle, her mouth wide open but no sound coming out.

Luisa couldn't be sure of what she was seeing, but she thought she saw Mirabel's skin ripple!

The tiles cracked under Mirabel as she was lifted and hurled against the ground, over and over. The walls shuddered, the window shutters flapped open and shut, the table and everything on it flew against the opposite wall. Antonio clung to his mother, wailing loud and high. Dolores dropped to the ground in a dead faint. Agustin retched into his hand. Everyone else was paralyzed by their terror.

“Luisa,” Julieta said, her stern voice breaking through the chaos. “Come with me.”

Julieta struggled to get her hands around her convulsing daughter, but under her instructions Luisa managed to grab a hold of her, held tight in a bear hug. She pinned Mirabel's arms to her side with one arm and held her legs as firmly as she dared; with any more pressure, she could easily break her bones. Even so, it took all of her legendary strength to hold onto her.

“Hold her still,” Julieta commanded, as calm as could be. “It will pass, I promise you.”

How can you know that?

“Easy now, easy,” Julieta whispered to Mirabel, trying again to wipe the blood away from her face. “It'll all be over soon.”

Mirabel's glasses had been smashed in the chaos, her eyes rolled wildly in their sockets. There was a searing heat coming off of her skin, almost too hot for Luisa to touch. Under her palms, she felt something just under the skin moving around, pushing upwards.

Mirabel's mouth opened, but instead of a scream or a cry or anything else that they might have been expecting, a loud piercing screech like nothing they had ever heard came out. It was multilayered, like hundreds of voices screaming in unison, echoed closely by the roar of a thousand beasts. The sound burst through the Casíta, shattering windows, mirrors and everything else made of glass with it.

As soon as the last piece of glass hit the floor, the attack (or whatever it was) was over. Mirabel slumped in Luisa's arms, breathing hard, eyes closed. The heat coming from her skin waned, the house stopped shaking. The family stood in place, looking around at their ruined dining room, too shocked to speak.

“We have to move her upstairs,” Julieta said, breaking the silence. “Before it happens again.”

“Again?” Isabela spluttered. “You think this is going to happen again? What was that, what the hell was that...?”

“I don't know,” Julieta told her, strangely calm. “But it would be safer if we brought her upstairs.”

Numb, Luisa nodded and gathered up her sister in her arms. Her hands felt scalded, her muscles strained. The only other time she had come so close to having her strength fail her was when the candle was nearly snuffed out.

She looked at her family from the top of the stairs as Julieta gathered sheets and blankets, clutching Mirabel close to her. Dolores was just coming round, helped by her brother. Agustin was slumped in a corner with his head in his hands. Antonio was cradled between his mother and father, sobbing so hard his body shook. Isabela and Bruno were already sweeping the broken glass and what was left of breakfast off the floor, their eyes cast low and haunted.

It was a good thing Julieta was so steady. If they were all in hysterics, where would they be?

The two of them put Mirabel back in her bed, after changing her clothes and cleaning off the blood. Then Julieta ripped up some old sheets and used them to tie Mirabel's arms and legs to the bed frame.

“Do you really think it's going to happen again?” Luisa asked when Julieta told her to wrap a wide piece of fabric over Mirabel's torso. The unease must have been showing in her face.

“I don't know, Luisa,” Julieta told her. “But better to be safe than sorry, right?”

It was strange. Her mother didn't even seem scared. Luisa's own heart was beating so hard she felt ready to burst. How could she be so calm after what they had seen?

…..

Alma paced around in front of the door, debating who to send for first.

The doctor was obvious, Mirabel hadn't been eating solid food and hadn't been getting any better and was now bleeding from her nose and eyes, the most likely explanation had to be that she had picked up some sort of virus that affected her particularly badly in her weakened state. The doctor could recommend a hospital to send her to and she could finally recover properly.

But....

The Encanto's priest could offer them some help. Maybe he had never seen...

(a demon)

...a strange phenomenon like they had just witnessed, but he would have connections in the priesthood who would know what to do.

Alma had long suspected there was something off about Mirabel since her failed gift ceremony. She tried so hard to push it out of her mind, but the girl had an unnatural history. Speaking languages she'd never heard before, the violent fits, the escape attempts, the screaming, all when she was still a young child.

She never believed, as Julieta once did, that the baby that was returned to them was not the one she had given birth to. She felt she still had a blood connection to the child, but it was clear that something had gotten a hold of her while she was missing and that something was unholy. Only an expert in these matters could help them now.

Just as she'd made up her mind to go to the priest to consult him, there came a frenzied tapping on the front door. Alma opened it, to find Senór Moreno, one of the corn stock farmers, standing on the doorstep, pale as milk.

“Please excuse me, Senóra Madrigal,” he croaked. “We have a situation...”

“I am aware,” Alma sighed. “We have it under control now. It's nothing to worry about, a few broken windows we can afford to have fixed. I am sorry the shaking made its way to your house...”

“No, no, Senóra,” the man insisted. “I saw the Casíta shaking but it didn't go any further than that. This is different. My crops...they're all gone.”

A cold feeling washed over her.

“Gone? Gone where?”

“Just...gone! I don't know how to explain it, I went out this morning and every stalk has been stripped!”

Alma looked past Senór Moreno; his lands were near enough to Casíta that they could get a clear view of his cornfields when the corn was close to ripe. The acres had been shining gold and green when she woke just after dawn that morning; now, they were mud brown and desolate.

“It's not just the corn, my wife's kitchen garden was stripped too,” Senór Moreno continued. “Tomatoes, avocados, peppers, nothing is left. And our chickens...”

“The chickens too?” Alma whispered, trying to wrap her head around what had happened.

A rogue storm of locusts from the border could strip an entire town of its crops, but within three hours? With no sign of them now? The sky would be buzzing with the pests if locusts were behind this...

“They left the chickens but all the eggs are broken,” Senór Moreno told her, clutching his cap in his hands. “My neighbour's goats...he had pots of milk and butter and they were either knocked over or swallowed up. His kitchen garden is gone too.”

Another farmer was making his way to the Casíta, holding the broken stalk of one of his plants. Alma could see two more setting out as she talked to him. The Encanto was buzzing with hushed conversation, worried faces. Every garden and tract of land she could see from the steps of the Casíta was completely barren.

If every crop in the Encanto had been depleted, it would be nothing short of a disaster. The people didn't just grow their own food, they exported it to nearby villages and traded for goods they couldn't make or grow themselves. The Encanto was known to be prosperous, even during bad harvest years they usually made enough to get by.

Over the scared murmurings of the townspeople, Alma thought she could hear laughter in the far distance. A child's laughter, clear as a bell and full of mischief.

#encanto godmother au #encanto au #encanto fanfic #mirabel madrigal #madrigal family #folk horror #madrigal family needs a hug #folklore #encanto

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alittlebitgoofy · 3 years

Text

the only proof i need is you (taywhora)

it is finally done, i've been wokring on this since the ukd tour started but we don't need to talk about that, it's kind of a sequel to my older canon compliant fics but can be read sepereatly. love my dear mina for always betaing shit I send them, an actual icon

title from proof by Paramore bc that song got stuck in my head as I was tryna get a title, enjoy :)) ao3 link

Tayce relished in the energy she got from this, after so long away from gigs the euphoria wasn’t lost on her. They were lucky, finally able to experience the dizzying highs of such public notoriety.

The heat didn’t help things— of course, they’d get stuck in a heatwave during a cross country tour. The amount of sweat, makeup running by the end of the show, outfits sticking in places they shouldn’t. It was a nightmare, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything

Her attention was pulled back to reality by the laughter of her friends, using silly Instagram filters on each other to amuse them. They stumbled towards her in a flurry of giggles, knocking into her arms and almost sending her falling over into the crowd. A’whora raised her phone to Tayce, erupting into laughter at the way the screen contorted her face into something unrecognisable.

---

“Are you done with those?” Tayce asked, gesturing to A’whora’s fries while his attention was laser focused on his phone.

Before he could answer, Tayce plucked a chip anyway, putting it in his mouth much to A’whora’s chagrin. He huffed, eyes narrowing at such an act of treason.

“You hound!” He swatted at Tayce’s arm as he reached for another. “What happened to yours?”

Tayce lent in further, smiling fiendishly and chewing obnoxiously loud. “Ate them, like, ten minutes ago. You’ve been staring at your phone for the past hour and they’re gonna go cold, missy.”

“I’m eating at my own pace!”

“You eat slower than Lawrence picks up choreo.” Tayce grinned, his heart warming at the way his friend pouted, arms crossed — he was too cute when he got all riled up.

“Don’t involve me in your lovers' spats!” Lawrence hissed from across the table, laughing at the way Tayce’s eyes narrowed. He knew Lawrence was only having one of those stupid more-than-friends jokes, but any implications of their relationship being anything other than professional made the room seem a little too tense for his liking.

“She’s right, you two argue like an old married couple.” Bimini chimed in, resting their head on their hands like this was an everyday event.

“This isn’t an argument, a crime has been committed and you two are bystanders letting such an act go unpunished!”

“It’s a fucking chip.”

A’whora glared at Lawrence for such a comment. It was his chip. Tayce had his own, he could deal with himself. He had a bad habit of eating things that weren’t his and flirting his way out of any repercussions. He’d buy A’whora more of something most of the time but the annoyance was justified after a year of having his food stolen.

Bimini let out an exasperated laugh, the idiocy of the pair never failing to be both amusing and tiring. They bickered like children sometimes but there was a layer of deep connection under it, two people so strong in their unity that nothing could break them apart.

Except a chip apparently.

They slid their own half eaten pack over, not likely to eat the rest anyway. It would be worth the quiet of Tayce settling down with more food for a little while. They missed the peace of them all being passed out from a long night’s show.

“Tayce, you can have the rest of mine, just leave her alone.”

“Let the whore have her own food, you hound.” Lawrence huffed, Tayce snickering at the moniker. It made him raise an eyebrow, nodding before turning his attention back to his fries.

It was hilarious seeing him get so riled up but there was a small pang in Tayce’s chest, he genuinely was a bit upset about having his food taken, it was a constant that always riled him up no matter how much Tayce replaced. He slid a few fries over, secretly enjoying the bright smile that took over A’whora’s face, giving a thankful nod.

---

Tayce felt the repetitive movement of the car slowly lull him to sleep, they were all too tired to do much of anything, passing out in the back of the tour bus in full drag, not even the energy to take it off before going to their hotels. A’whora was next to him, head leant against his shoulder. He looked so peaceful, making it hard to believe he’d been performing in the horrid heatwave an hour ago.

Bimini was on the other side of them, by the window. They’d curled in on themself, contorted in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable. She’d have to laugh when they complained of back pain the next morning. Lawrence was beside them, stretched across the seat between him and bimini. It was strange to see everyone so low energy, though Tayce himself felt it. So many shows in such quick succession, his body wasn’t ready no matter how much preparation went into it.

A bump in the road jolted him back to attention, though the rest of them were long gone from consciousness. At least he thought. His attention turned back to A’whora, taking in all of his features without the prying eyes of anyone. Something about the sight of him, head reclined on Tayce’s shoulder looking like it was the most comfortable thing in the world, it made his heart warm.

Those feelings still went unsaid, he wasn’t ready for a lot of things, A’whora knew that. He knew with time he would open up, it just took patience and love.

---

Tayce’s energy was electric, his constant bouncing and talking leaving the others in the tour bus in a similar state.

Long drives were boring, he had to make it more interesting somehow. A’whora and Lawrence exchanged a look as Tayce set up an Instagram live, mentally preparing for the chaos that would surely follow.

Lawrence was half amused and half mortified at the act that followed, A’whora cheekily shaking her ass on the camera, much to the amusement of the viewers, Tayce slapping it as if it was no big deal. He’d probably come to regret that later but the moment buzzed with the excitement for their next show, the tour in general, and the euphoria of touring with some of his best friends.

The rowdy energy kept up for the rest of the day, Tayce rarely lost his buzz as A’whora had come to learn, it was a blessing until it was late and she was ready to go out when all he could do was pass out in the hotel room.

They had to share this time due to availability, acting like it was a minor inconvenience when it was all they wanted now, to feel the comfort of someone going through the same grueling thing as you, waking up next to Tayce was euphoric. Something about him took the best, happiest feelings out of A’whora and left him a gooey mess of love and laughs.

Though Lawrence was catching on, or so Tayce claimed he thought, confiding in A’whora knowing even he could keep this secret. He knew better than to say something like that, Tayce’s vulnerability was difficult to keep, any sign of trouble and he’d close right back up for a long time to come.

“Oh, there are the lovers.” He boldly prodded the pair, erupting into a laugh as Tayce scowled. The atmosphere was too tense for 9 am, the previous night out leaving him in a precarious state of trying to balance a normal act and a vicious headache that only a kiss from A’whora had managed to vanquish.

“Well what crawled up your ass and died?” He followed up, Tayce’s glare frosting over in a way that truly worried A’whora. He was not happy and he didn’t want to sit in a car all day full of tension. Where was Bimini in this mess?

“It’s too early for this shit, settle down.”

His voice seemed to reason more with Tayce as he got into the car, quickly pulling a’whora beside him. Bimini came out a while later, apologising for the wait. None of them ever seemed to be on time, it was almost as if they took it in turns this tour.

Their presence brought some much needed peace as Tayce started perking up through the journey, still oddly quiet but much better than wanting to bite Lawrence’s head off this morning.

---

“A’whora! God, hurry up!” A shout came from Bimini as they prodded her to change faster. Damn costumes, never easy to get off in a hurry.

Tayce watched it with muffled laughter, the misfortune not enough to need intervention but much too amusing to leave alone.

Lawrence shared in her amusement, though had no problem commenting on her time wasting.

“I thought I was the slow one, the whore’s got us all beat.” She commented, the room erupting in laughter much to A’whora’s annoyance.

“Stupid fucking outfit! Tayce?” The complaint was followed by a pleading whine, her eyes starting to tear up with sheer frustration.

Tayce obliged, walking over and unzipping the outfit to let A’whora out, grabbing her new one and sliding it up her body, slowly as to allow her to get in without rushing.

A’whora felt herself almost quiver, the feeling of Tayce’s hands running down her back taking her back to—

Nope. She couldn’t do this, not during a show. Keeping this secret would eat her alive by the time they got finished with this tour but she could enjoy the little moments they had, as inconspicuous as possible.

“Talk about sexual tension.”

“Oh fuck off Lawrence.” Tayce shot back. Before any more words could be exchanged they were rushed back on stage for a group number.

Thank god for Tayce.

—-

Tayce let himself fall onto the bed with a loud groan. It was incredible being able to perform for huge crowds and meet their fans but this was a new kind of exhaustion. He felt the need to hibernate for the next week. Beside him, A’whora flopped down, a similar sigh leaving his lips.

“I can’t wait to get home, I’ve got a face mask and a few packs of percy pigs waiting for me.”

“Is that all you ever think about? You better share, missy.” Tayce teased, a tired grin spreading across his face, elating his boyfriend who rolled over to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Only if you ask politely, or maybe you do something nice for me.” The last part came out in a purr, their faces so close Tayce swore A’whora could feel the heat rising off his face at the insinuation.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t play along, flirting and calling his bluffs. But this was more intimate, the two of them, together. No one else, no need to worry about keeping it down so their roommates wouldn’t find out. It was a flash of a possible future. The pair of them working, joking, and loving together.

It dawned on him then, cuddled together without a care in the world after the most exhausting two weeks of his life. This was what he wanted, he didn’t care what other people thought. Something melted away without him realising, leaving his heart bare and ready for the taking though A’whora always let him set the pace.

“I love you, George.”

He froze. Did he hear that right? Did Tayce just say he loved him? Tayce, the one who could never let himself be vulnerable, much less admit his deepest feelings.

“I love you too.” He choked out, sounding more shocked than he knew possible. Tayce couldn’t help but laugh, he wasn’t expecting it but that reaction was nothing less than adorable. He pulled him into a soft kiss, enjoying their closeness before they both drifted off, hardly ready for the travel and fatigue of tomorrow but safe and cosy in the presence of each other.

He could get used to this.

#a'whora #tayce #taywhora #rpdr fanfiction

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meetmymouth · 4 years

Text

when sunny met harry : harry styles imagine

based on this request

summary: harry and y/n break up but they’re not the only ones suffering. their -now her- golden retriever sunny thinks harry’s coming back.

“Sunny?” She calls from the bedroom when she doesn’t hear the nails on the wooden floor signalling that he’s following her.

As soon as Y/N gets home from work, Sunny would follow her around like a baby duck for a couple of hours, at least until after dinner, before he decides that Y/N’s here to stay.

Harry and Y/N found the lovable Golden when he was only 2, abused and abandoned near their local Waitrose. When Harry noticed and tried getting close to him, the puppy was all teeth and growls. At the end of year, they had the loveliest, goofiest puppy who loved head massages and belly rubs.

Despite Harry’s hectic schedule, Sunny loved him and Y/N even made fun of him and called Sunny a ‘daddy’s boy’. Harry loved being Sunny’s favourite because he was the fun ‘parent’: he found nothing wrong in sneaking him a few more treats than usual, didn’t raise his voice whenever Sunny decided that the bed was his territory and he let him bite and chew on his arms as much as he liked.

So when they broke up three months ago, it felt like a divorce more than anything so to say. Giving up Sunny and having him stay with Harry wasn’t an option not only for her but also Harry since he was rarely in London and whenever he was, he used to stay over at hers.

So when Harry was moving the last box out of her flat, he gave Sunny one last pat and a kiss on the head before leaving for good. Bless him, Sunny didn’t even know what was going on, he probably thought Harry was coming back either with treats or a movie to cuddle up on the sofa like they always did on Fridays.

“Sunny? Come get it,” Y/N tries again, thinking it will make him come to her if he thinks she’s offering him food but there’s nothing.

When she takes off her watch and earrings, she makes her way into the leaving room but she stops at the sound of Sunny’s wagging tail hitting the floor.

“What are you doing silly?”

Sunny turns his head and gives him a quick glance before turning back.

He’s sat in front of the front door, tail wagging happily as if someone showed him his leash which would mean he would go on his ‘walkies’.

Growing frustrated, she gets closer to the chubby dog and pets his bum.

“What are you doing, huh? You wanna go potty,” she muses more to herself and pouts. “Potty?” Her voice comes out louder than before, hoping that the word he’s fully familiar with would get a reaction out of him. But he stays put.

She does have a theory that might explain his behaviour but she really doesn’t want to go there. She starts walking away, just to test if he follows her but he’s still waiting by the front door.

“Are you kidding me?”

She reaches and knocks on door only once and her feelings are confirmed when Sunny replies with an enthusiastic bark.

Her heart sinks at the realisation that Sunny is, in fact, missing Harry and thinks he’s coming back.

Of course, he’s been showing signs of missing him and looking for him ever since he moved out but they weren’t as heartbreaking as him waiting by the front door. He would wait in front of their -her- bedroom door every morning despite Y/N already leaving the room, as if he was still asleep and would wake up, leave the room and give Sunny his morning pets.

Or when it’s time for bedtime and Sunny sneaks into her room and steals the second pillow from the bed, only to lay his head on it while he snoozed on the floor, next to the bed.

When he did stuff like that, Y/N knew it was because he missed Harry. But when he waited by the front door, it felt like he didn’t even know Harry wasn’t coming back. And that broke her heart.

“Sunny...” she tries guiding him towards the living room by his collar but he keeps barking. “Come on, come get treats.”

He doesn’t budge. In fact, he starts barking more and Y/N backs away, hands rubbing her forehead in hopes of getting rid of her headache.

As he barks away, she leaves him by the front door and perches on the sofa, hand reaching for her phone.

She knows he’s on a break and since they have mutual friends, she knows he’s in London. But she also knows how inappropriate and well, bad it would be to call her ex boyfriend because her dog misses him.

It all sounds so pathetic. And sad.

She sighs happily when Sunny stops barking for a moment but he starts again after a minute, making Y/N groan in frustration.

She calls his name, yells, tells him to stop but Sunny doesn’t budge. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose to piss her off.

With a quick decision, she unlocks her phone and find his contact. She doesn’t even hesitate before pressing the tiny icon and it starts ringing. When it signals that he’s picked up, Y/N feels herself starting to sweat.

“Hello?”

Y/N can’t help but close her eyes at the sound of his voice. It’s been longer than two months since they’ve spoken and only for a moment, she wants to pretend like nothing’s happened and she’s only calling to ask if he wants curry or tacos for tonight.

“Hi,” she almost whispers. “It’s Y/N.”

“I know, I have your number,” he chuckles and Y/N wants to feel jealous over the nonchalant response. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. It’s just-“ as she tries to explain what’s going on without sounding like a clingy ex, Sunny’s barks become louder.

“Is that Sunny?” Harry chimes in.

“Yeah, he’s just- he won’t stop barking and he’s been sitting by the front door ever since I got home.”

She gets up and peeks her head into the corridor where Sunny’s still barking.

Harry must’ve heard the increasing sound that he signs on the other end of the line.

“Put me on speaker?” he suggests and Y/N obeys, pressing the speaker button and hopes that Sunny will stop barking if he hears his voice.

“Done,”

For a moment, they don’t speak. Harry doesn’t say anything. Sunny keeps barking.

And then they hear Harry shout Sunny’s name.

Then all of a sudden, the barking stops. Sunny starts looking around, trying to spot Harry and it breaks Y/N’s heart even more. He looks so happy, tail still wagging and tongue out as he comes towards the living room where Y/N’s standing with her phone on hand.

“Sunny boy?” Harry calls again and Sunny finally spots the phone and how Harry’s voice is coming from there.

As Sunny jumps up and down, Harry starts laughing at the sound of Sunny’s nails hitting the floorboard.

“He stopped barking,” Y/N starts but Harry starts talking to Sunny again.

“Sunny! Why are you being so loud, huh? Are you being a bad boy for Y/N?”

She rolls her eyes but at the same time his chest feels tight at the way he says her name.

“Do you think... should I FaceTime him? I mean...” he starts blabbering. “I know it’s not ideal but I miss him too and-“

“You can come and visit him when you’re in London, Harry. It’s us who broke up. Not you and Sunny.”

She knows three months isn’t a long time to get over him. She still misses him. She sometimes freezes in her place when she spots the single toothbrush in the bathroom. She still struggles cooking for one rather than two and she still doesn’t know if she should delete his pictures from her phone or not so she sticks to going through them with a wet smile and a glass of white.

“You sure? I feel like I’d overstep.”

“You wouldn’t. Maybe- maybe not now. Like, not at the moment but you can visit in the future. If you want.”

When she looks down, Sunny’s watching Y/N where he’s now laying on the dog bed in front of the TV unit.

“Alright. Thanks. I think- I’d like that I think. I really do miss him,” he mumbles and Y/N can picture him pinching his bottom lip.

She’s selfish so she wants to ask ‘what about me? Do you miss me too’ but she refrains and clears her throat.

“Okay. Okay- that’s cool. We can arrange that.”

“Has he settled down?”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s just staring at me.”

“Good. Good boy,” he calls out again and Sunny’s ears perk up.

“Silly boy. Anyway, uhm. Thanks, Harry. Sorry for bothering you-“

“Don’t be silly. I know how anxious you get when he keeps barking. This was- this was good.”

She smiles gives another glance at the dog.

“Okay, I’ll let you go now. Thank you.”

“Y/N?” He says, voice all rushed and hurried as if he wants to sneak in a last few words before they hang up.

“Yeah?” She asks, feeling anxious over what’s coming next.

Is he going to tell her not to call again? Or only call for things concerning Sunny?

“Can you- I mean. Can you send me a few pictures of Sunny? I haven’t seen him months and well... yeah.”

At his hesitant request, Y/N feels her chest tighten with sadness and there’s a knot in her stomach, making its way towards her throat and she wants to hang up as soon as possible so that she can start crying.

“Of course,” she promises, head tilted to the side and eyes all glassy with tears threatening to fall.

And later when she’s cuddled up with Sunny on the sofa and spamming Harry with some recent pictures of the silly dog who’s snoozing on her, the tears starts falling down as Harry replies with numerous heart eyes emoji.

* * *

* *

part two

💌 SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS 📝 MASTERLIST

#harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry x reader #my writing #harry blurb #harry writing #harrysgucciloafers

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beyoncesdragon · 4 years

Text

title: a handsome distraction

→Pairing: Jimin x Female!Reader (Choi Yeonjun has a lil cameo but not really, just kinda)

→Summary: You hate math because you can’t do it and Jimin hates math because he can’t do you.

→Warnings: just a few swear words, but other than that, you’re safe! It’s Fluff!! Except you have an allergic reaction whenever there is math involved, then I’d suggest you continue with precaution.

→Wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: Some Jimin fluff because I want a Park Jimin to annoy me during math class...but we cant always have what we wish for. Therefore we write it.

Masterlist | BTS Masterlist

You were having a hard time.

Harder than usually, and considering that you were currently doing math, that was alarming. Even more because it wasn’t even because of the subject you were being taught through another zoom class. It also wasn’t because your internet was lagging more than usually and now the video wasn’t always perfectly in sync with the audio. It wasn’t the fact that you hated math with a passion, and already gave up on the subject four years ago either.

The thing that was giving you a hard time was a lot more handsome than the bland equation you were trying to solve with the teacher. Or rather, you were watching her solve it whilst you just copied everything that appeared on the screen, not quite knowing why she decided to multiply this x with the other one or how in the hell she discovered a binominal in between this whole mess.

The thing that was distracting you also went by the name of Park Jimin, your boyfriend, talented singer, dancer, hardworking man and performer, song writer and fashion icon and current cause of the headache that was starting to form behind your temples.

“Jimin! Can you finally stop this?!” you hissed through your teeth, wiggling his foot off your lap before pulling the couch table a bit closer.

You were currently seated on the floor, back resting against the couch and all of your school stuff spread out around you. Your laptop was propped up on another stack of books because you had been too lazy to clear the whole table and there was a little pile, scribbled full with notes and terms and unsuccessful attempts of solving various mathematical problems. So far you had however only created new problems and instead of leaning something new, you felt like someone pressed the reboot button half way through the lesson without backing up the hardware.

Long story short: it was a mess and Jimin wasn’t helping at all.

“Jimin please! I’m trying to work here. I’m trying to pay attention for once.” Jimin just snickered, flopping down on the couch behind you.

“You’ve been on it for hours now.” Well, that was the point of classes, wasn’t it. Not that Jimin could relate anymore, since he already graduated (a thing he wouldn’t dream of letting you forget). “You’re shamelessly exaggerating again. It has not even been one and a half hour and you spent the first forty minutes sleeping anyways.” Jimin just shrugged, propping his face up on his hands, curiously peeking from behind you onto the screen. He reminded you of a curious cat and you had to hold back a smile (a calico cat, perhaps?). However, since the two of you had been ordered to keep the relationship as low key as possible, you couldn’t just let him do that. As cute as he might looked with his ruffled hair and baggy clothes.

“Get out of the frame, they will see you.” he huffed, flicking your nose before tossing around again and sitting up. “I bet I was the most interesting thing they got to see in those six hours you’re ignoring me now.” You groaned, attempting to throw a pen at him.

“I’m done in twenty five minutes Jimin. Can you please…”

“Are there any questions so far?” the voice of your teacher cut you off and you snapped back to the screen. It seemed like all eyes were on you (though you obviously couldn’t tell) and you felt the tinge of embarrassment tickling your cheeks. You shook your head and went back to taking notes.

In the meantime, Jimin took it upon himself to be as noisy as possible whilst preparing a cup of tea. He slammed the cupboard door shut with way to much force, banged the cup against the counter dangerously hard and had a dirty grin on his lips when you flinched.

“Jagi, where did you put the tealeaves again?” he then suddenly yelled, though there was no need to yell, you literally had an open kitchen and were in direct sight. You flinched again, looking up at him with a frown. “Bottom left drawer, like always. What are you even talking about.” All that could be heard was a chuckle. It took him exactly half an equation later to interrupt you again.

“Can you hold my cup please, I don’t want it to tip over.” You stared at him blankly. “Seriously Jimin?” He shrugged. “That, or watch the love of your life burn his fingers off.” You shook your head. “Or the love of my life finally gets a grip on himself and gets a proper kettle like every normal human being would. He just grinned smugly before shrugging it off. You twirled your pen in your hand, reaching for the laptop to unmute yourself and ask a question, when…

“Where is the honey again?” you huffed frustrated, sitting back. “Left, top shelf. Jesus Christ…no left…Jimin, left.” You repeated, taking your eyes from the screen completely.

“Miss Y/L/N is there something you would like to ask?” you cringed at the call and quickly unmuted yourself to reassure your teacher that everything was fine, when Jimin took it upon himself to answer for you.

“AH thank you Jagi, you’re too kind…is your math thing finally over? That one equation is taking you guys ages.” your eyes widened before you quickly mumbled an apology and muted your audio again. Over the rim of your screen you sent a Jimin a glare that made him choke up on his tea.

It however failed to prevent him from walking over and sitting next to you, clearly holding back his laughter. He reached out for your hand and pressed a quick kiss on your knuckles.

“Sorry Jagi. I miss you.” you just shook your head, eyes trained on the screen. “I figured Jimin.” That was all you said before pressing your lips back together. You could only hope the professor hadn’t picked up on what Jimin had been implying and wasn’t hurt. Goddess, this was so embarrassing and this little shit knew it.

“You know…it’s just because I don’t have many free days like this, therefore it just sucks to have you occupied the whole time if there is one…” you sighed deeply, shaking your head. “I said twenty five minutes Jimin.”

He managed to sit still for maybe five. Then he started to play with your unoccupied hand again, before he suddenly dipped down and settled his head on your thigh. “Can I?” you looked down on him eyebrows slightly risen. “Lay on my thighs? Sure, but don’t pull any stunts or you sleep on the couch tonight.” Jimin laughed quietly, innocently peeking up at you. “I would never. And if I would, I’m sure you would enjoy it anyways. You always do.” You left that uncommented and only briefly pressed your index finger against his lips. “Shush Jimin.”

After just a few minutes you had your hands in his hair already, absentmindedly playing with a few strands. He sighed happily before starting to draw little circles against your hip, humming quietly.

“You must be the most noisy rice cake there is.” Was all you pushed out before dramatically flying backwards against the couch Jimin gasped in fake outrage. The call finally ended and you felt like someone had fried your brain and your nerves in those two periods. Jimin sat up instantly, grabbing his now empty tea cup, before strolling towards the kitchen.

“Yah, no need to get personal. At least I don’t suck at math.” He retorted with a cocky expression, and this time you threw the pen for real.

“Wow, but you tell me not to get personal?” You stretched your body with a yawn before giving him a firm look. “You know what? I in this case I liked TXT’s performance better than yours.” It was completely off topic, but you needed something to bug him with. After those two painful lessons of math and Jimin you felt like you deserved that. And, it worked.

“Wait what? Which one?”

“MMA.” Jimin almost tripped over his own feet. “I beg you pardon? Better than our MMA Show? 2019? Are we on the same page?” You had troubles holding back your laughter at his obvious outrage. With a coy wink into his direction, you confirmed.

“Why so surprised? Yeonjun can rap…and also he has super pretty lips.” You shrugged, a lazy grin appearing on your lips. “You like his lips? He is too young for you!”

“You’re only four years older, dumbass.” with those words you got up and walked towards the kitchen as well. As you passed him, you placed a firm smack on the dancers butt before reaching for a cup to fetch yourself a cup of tea too.

Jimin had his arms crossed over his chest, a frown etched on his face as he watched you wordlessly, a mixture of disbelieve and outrage on his face.

“Are you sulking now?” you asked, turning around to him whilst the tea was steeping.

“Can you seriously blame me? You just admitted to like a guy that started as a rookie when I already debuted for a whole year…” you rolled your eyes. “Jimin!” but he wasn’t done just yet. “And you said I can’t rap!” you gave him a pointed look, turning to stir your tea for a second.

“I never said that, I know you can.” Jimin just shook his head.

“You said that he can rap, as in; other than you, he can rap.” He pouted like a little kid and you were having a hard time taking him serious. He just looked a tad too cute and too cuddly in that oversized shirt of his. “Oh my god Jimin…”

He turned on his heel with a dramatic flip of hair and strutted away towards the living room area. You heard him mumble to himself in annoyance as he approached your laptop, opening the device with a quick motion.

“What was your password again?” he asked, not even looking up. “It’s the date of your debut…”

“In letters or numbers?”

“Numbers.” He just nodded, a firm scowl on his face. “I’m almost surprised it isn’t TXT’s debut date.” He remarked sassily, unlocking your laptop with a pointed click of his index finger. You only shook your head, grabbed your mug and walked over to him. “Damn, you really are going there, hm?”

“What? You started it. Freaking Yeonjun out of all people…I will hit him when I see him again.” You chortled at his response, shaking your head. “Would you rather have me gushing over Yoongi?” he immediately shook his head.

“No that would be weird…wait do you mean Yoongi is cute?” a new wave of outrage shook that tiny body as he whipped around to look at you.

“Do you not think that?” he halted for a second, tilting his head. “Well obviously I do, but I am not my girlfriend.” You couldn’t only laugh at that. “Are you not? Wouldn’t have figured that out.”

“And on top of all of that, you said that they had a better MMA Performance than we had! Speaking of, ours wasn’t just a performance, we blessed you with an entire experience. How can you even compare that.” You giggled helplessly at your enraged boyfriend, opening your arms for a hug.

“Relax, baby. I was only joking.” He huffed in response, turning away dramatically. “No can do. I can’t believe I’ve been backstabbed like that. By my own girlfriend.”

He had clicked on their performance video with so much vigour it made you laugh even harder. Especially because their own performance was recommended to play right after TXT and he hesitated not even half a second before adding it to the queue.

“If you mention anything about Yeonjun’s lips, I will skip all of his parts and we go straight to our show, I’m not even kidding.” You giggled only, pressing your lips against his cheek. “Jealous Jiminie never fails to make me laugh. This group debuted in march of 2019 the same year. They weren’t even a year old and still performed like this, that’s all I’m gushing about, basically.”

And with that you pressed the play button and started the video. You actually expected Jimin to wrap his arms around you any second, but the man was still a moping mess and refused to even spare you a glance. With a sigh you decided to take matters into your own hands and leaned against him.

“Jimin.” No response.

“Baby. Look at me.” For a second it looked like he would ignore you once again. Just when you debated about calling him again or just cuddle him instead, he turned his head into your direction. You couldn’t help the small smile that immediately appeared on your face.

“You’re still the prettiest man on earth Jimin. Don’t worry, I could never look at anyone else than you. This includes your lips, by the way.” He hummed, acting as if all of this wouldn’t even affect him the slightest.

“I know.”

You burst out laughing. “You do now? So will you stop sulking?” He shrugged only, giving you a sly side-eye. “Only if you admit that you did drool when you watched our performance because up to this point, I have not heard a confession coming from your lips.” You huffed unfazed, shaking your head.

“Park Jimin, you are too cocky for your own good.”

“I’m just right sweetheart. Very unlike that equation you just solved…might want to look over that again.”

“Oh will you shut up!”

— ✩ thank u for reading ✩ —

#btswritingcafe #park jimin #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #bts jimin #bts park jimin #park jimin x reader #park jimin x you #park jimin x y/n #park jimin fluff #jimin x you #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #imagines #kpop imagines #bts ff #My writing #a handsome distraction

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silverselfshippingchaos · 3 years

Text

With his dark past long behind him and revenge long-since attained, Maxi is ready to move on. He's ready for a new beginning. And so, he asks Ash the most important question he ever has.

"You kids can head on home, ya know." Maxi says, waving the two eager siblings away.

"Got it, Lord Maxi!" Nods Leixia, grabbing Xiba's arm and turning in the opposite direction. Faintly, Ash can hear him saying something about being hungry.

She chuckles, "Xiba... We just finished eating..." Ash shakes her head playfully, "But, if you insist, there's some leftovers from last night. Just go ahead and warm 'em up."

That seemed to be enough motivation for Xiba, because he went sprinting in the direction of their home. Leixia followed, screaming after him, but Ash didn't miss her giving a look towards Maxi. As for what that look meant, Ash had no idea.

Ash looks up at the man beside her, but he was just gazing fondly into the distance. She couldn't help but notice how her lover, usually incapable of the ability to (respectfully, of course) shut up, had been oddly silent that night.

A soft smile settled on his lips, sharp features accentuated by nothing but some lanterns on buildings shining on them in the dark night. Ash found herself questioning how he always managed to look so damn handsome regardless of where he was.

His eyes looked faraway. Maybe he was just thinking about the kids? Well, they weren't kids, per se. They were teenagers, well on their way to adulthood, but Maxi regarded them as such anyway. Ash could understand, often doing the same herself.

He had taken them in because, according to the Edge Master, it was the only way to save Kilik, Maxi's closest friend since he lost his crew.

Funny, wasn't it? That Maxi would find salvation at the hands of Kilik's master, and would set off to save Kilik, just like how Kilik and Xianghua had saved him. The roles had been reversed. It wasn't Maxi who was alone this time. He needed to save his best friend's life.

The kids by themselves weren't strong enough, so Maxi made the decision to mentor them and travel with them. After all, Maxi's skill in combat was nothing short of legendary. His journey may have been a tough one, but he'd fought off some pretty crazy things over the years. From random bandits to the wrath of literal gods, Maxi had seen it all.

With Leixia came a third party named Natsu. She didn't seem to be related to any of the others, but Maxi welcomed her on the team with open arms. If she had protected Leixia for so long, she could be a valuable addition.

And Ash had also tagged along. She may not have been as great of a fighter as Maxi (after all, who was?), but she figured that they could use the extra support. Along with, of course, not wanting to leave Maxi all alone again.

As time went on, traveling with the children had led Maxi and Ash to develop quite the emotional bond with them with the trio. They had their more stressful moments, but the couple cared for them nonetheless, and took care of them because they wanted to, not out of a feeling of obligation since they were so closely related to their friends.

Eventually, the kids had begun to look up to Ash as a motherly figure of sorts as well. Although she couldn't quite deny that they gave her a headache more often than not.

Well, perhaps aunt would be the proper term rather than mother. Ash was no idiot, and neither was Maxi. They knew who these Xiba and Leixia were. It was painfully obvious. They were Kilik and Xianghua's children.

Leixia didn't know Xiba at first, so Ash figured that they weren't aware of being related at all. Leixia had mentioned that her father had been a general back in Ming, whereas Xiba never knew his father. How ironic that he'd end up being taught the way of the staff that Kilik was oh-so passionate about, despite not even knowing who he was.

That's... A hell of a sticky situation. Poor kids. Awfully unlike Kilik and Xianghua to abandon their own. I wonder what happened. Ash found herself thinking.

The resemblance was uncanny between them and Maxi's friends, and just housing the Sacred Treasures they protected all those years ago was enough for Ash to raise an eyebrow. Not just in the form of their weapons, but in Leixia's pendant as well. Ash would recognize that familiar green glow anywhere.

Her theory was only proven by how Maxi's body tensed up oh-so slightly when around it. The influence of the evil seed, although mostly repressed, could not be cured.

Maxi hadn't brought up the topic of their parents with the children, only confiding in Ash on occasion. But he knew. He probably figured it out even before Ash did, considering how long he had spent traveling with the couple nearly two decades ago. He didn't have anyone else but them and Ash after the attack on his crew happened.

But the iconic trio of Maxi, Kilik, and Xianghua had long since split, and now it was just them. Ash had no idea as to Kilik's whereabouts, but she had heard that Xianghua had gotten married to some other man back in Ming. It had been years since he had seen either of them.

So, the responsibility to save Kilik, protect the Sacred Treasures, and take the children west while making sure they didn't die along the way fell to Maxi and Ash. How wonderful.

Ash squeezes Maxi's hand, "Hey, everything alright?" Even after all these years, their hands seemed to be made for each other. Maxi's hands were so much larger than hers and were so warm. He was always warm, almost like her own personal campfire. They felt nice in the slight chill of the night, and Ash wanted nothing more than to cling onto him and never let him go.

Some sick part of her found it almost comical that he felt even warmer after having a shard of the cursed sword itself place inside of him. He would agree too, always trying to keep a cheerful outlook on everything that had happened to him in the past. He even often joked about the unusually slow rate his body was aging because of the shard. At the end of the day, Ash was just glad that he had control over himself again.

"Oh? Me?" Maxi questions, snapped out of whatever trance he was in, his eyes snapping towards her. Ash sighs, "Nooo, not at all. I was simply speaking to my other boyfriend." She says sarcastically, "Of course I'm talking to you. Who else is around here?"

She was right. The streets of the town had been long empty, the sky dark. Ash looks up, the sky twinkling with so many bright stars. It wasn't far from where they had first met in India all those years ago. She was glad to be back to her home country.

Maxi chuckles, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead. "Ha ha, very funny." He responds dryly, "But yeah, I'm doing fine. Just thinking."

Ash smirks, but her voice is sincere. "That's a first, so be careful, alright? Don't hurt yourself."

"Hey, I think!"

"Hm... Debatable."

Ash goes silent for a few seconds, but eventually reaches over to grab his other hand. "I hope you know that you can tell me if anything is bothering you. I'm here to listen, and if you want, I'll do my best to help."

"Thank you. I mean that." He whispers.

Ash nods.

"Hey..." Maxi starts, beginning to walk towards the open fields on the outskirts of the town, "I wanna talk to ya."

"Take your time. I'm listening."

Maxi keeps walking further into the field for minutes, until the town is long behind them. He stops, staring up at the star-filled sky. Ash notices that he loses his easy smirk for once, face hardening into a firm expression. This is... Odd.

Maxi is the first to break the silence. "I... I never saw myself having a future after the guys died." He whispers, eyes still glued to the sky.

"I mean," He glances towards her, chuckling in an attempt to lighten up the mood, "You saw me back then. I didn't care about nothin' but my revenge."

… And seeing him hurt you too.. That was the last straw.

Ash remembers it all too clearly. His thirst for revenge against the thing who murdered his crew nearly destroyed him, and for so many years, that was the only thing he cared about. Killing the monster. Regardless of what it took.

Things only got worse with the shard. The bloodlust that was already there only increased, and it never died down. He isolated himself, pushing everybody away. Eventually, his humanity itself began to slip away. The shard always craved more, and it took years with the Edge Master for Maxi to even be able to think straight again.

But he had grown so much since then. He was still Maxi, her Maxi, cocky and confident with a sharp tongue to boot, but he had grown. Ash could see it in how he treated Leixia and Xiba. He wasn't the lost young man he used to be anymore.

"Yeah, that's right..."

"But I've gotten that revenge now, haven't I?"

Ash nods. "Yeah, you killed that freak."

"So I think that it's finally time for me to move on." Maxi says, taking hold of both her hands and staring at her directly.

"Even through everything, you never gave up on me. I pushed you away, but you never thought I was a lost cause. You taught me that I didn't need to walk alone anymore. If it weren't for you..." Maxi gulps, shaking his head with a soft chuckle, “Actually... Nope, not going there. It hurts to think about what could’ve been. Anyways,” He stops, as if pondering the right words.

Her eyes go wide, "Maxi..."

It was unlike him to be this vulnerable with his words, or even at all. Maxi preferred to let his body and actions do the speaking, but Ash didn't mind. He was loving and sweet. As he gathers his thoughts, she gently runs her fingertips along the callouses on his hands, worn down from years of battle.

"... I feel like when I’m with you, maybe I can have that future again." Maxi finishes, cupping her face in his hands. Ash softly smiles at him, leaning into his touch.

"I'm glad. That makes me so happy to hear. It..." She takes a deep breath, blinking back tears, "It really does mean the world to me that I can be that pillar of support for you. All I want is for you to be happy because, hey, you deserve that future."

Ash chuckles softly, and Maxi can feel his heart fluttering at the sight of her smile. She continues.

"But I hope you realize it wasn't all me, though. You made the effort to change, don't forget that. I love you more than I can say, and I am so proud of you. You’re the strongest person I know. Even through everything, you never let it consume you.”

Her voice was nothing more than a warm whisper fanning his lips. But since there were only mere inches separating them, he could hear her just fine.

He buries his face in the crook of her neck, the fur lining of his jacket tickling her cheek. Ash can't help but smile at how warm his face is. One of her hands reaches up to gently pat the back of his head.

"I love you too. More than anything. It was the thought of you that stopped me from giving into the curse, ya know." He replies, holding her tight.

Maxi steps away from her, taking a deep breath and staring at the grassy ground, "Man, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be..." He mutters, running his fingers through the swoop of his hair.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I guess I should just say it, huh?" He says, anxiously picking at his fingers, his gaze drifting to the side.

"You're not breaking up with me, are you?" Ash jokes, laughing softly. Maxi smiles, and in that moment, he is convinced that he has never seen a woman more perfect.

He shakes his head. "Not in a million years. In fact, the exact opposite."

Maxi reaches for his back pocket and gets down on one knee.

Ash gasps, her hands flying up to cover her open mouth. "Oh my god... No way."

"Yes way. I want you to marry me, babe." Maxi says, and he's never been more sure of anything in his life. For all these years, Ash had never given up on him. She was the light at the end of the tunnel of rage and blood he had built around himself. He had never loved anyone more.

“Will you marry me?” He asks, voice firm. His heart was pounding in his chest.

In his hands, a ring. It was nothing overly large or extravagant, but the fine gemstone in the center seemed to twinkle in the moonlight. Tears Ash had tried so hard to fight against came rushing back.

There was no hesitation in her answer.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, and Maxi couldn’t contain the pure glee that rushed through him as he slid the ring on her finger. He stood up and laughed in pure delight.

“This is the greatest day ever! She said yes!” He says to himself, picking her up and twirling her around in a circle. He pulls her in for a kiss, and she is more than happy to oblige, her lips moving in unison with his. She had been with him for so long, kissed him so many times, yet the feeling of his lips on hers was so magical even still.

He cups her face in his hands and gently wipes away her tears with his thumbs.

“Hey now, don’t cry.” He whispers.

“They’re tears of happiness, I promise.” Ash responds, and she can’t hide the smile from her face.

Ash giggles as he pulls her in for a hug, “I can't wait for you to be my wife." He murmurs into her hair, and she simply grabs him by the face and kisses him again.

Their lips lock for what feels like an eternity before they finally pull away. Ash rests her forehead on his, and he smiles. His cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling so much, but how could he not?

Goodness, he’s beautiful… Ash thought as she gazed into his dark eyes.

“I love you so much. So fucking much.” She says.

“I love you too, baby. I love you too.”

Ash smiles, gazing down at the ring in her finger. Beautiful. In that moment, she is convinced that there is no place she would rather be. After all, he was her home, and there was no place she felt safer in than his arms.

#can you tell that i like the lore of this series yet. the kids from 5 aren't my favorite characters (not by a long shot) but #we got to see my baby being all soft!! and i loved seeing that. especially after he's really pissed for all of the last game #anyways i love him #thank you so much for reading!#this one was pretty fun #as over-the-top of a man that he is i tried to keep his proposal very casual and small. it just feels more fitting for him?? nothing fancy #just him and her and the stars #ahhh so romantic!#i also just really love how chill he is in the 5th game. it's been like 17 years and now he's around 45 and literally just wants to chill #rambling about the story of these games is truly my favorite thing ever haha!!#the idea of ‘hey how would he propose?’ hit me one day as I was going on my usual analysis essay about his development. fast forward a few #months and now we’re here!#I am. in love. I just think he’s neat #this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I’m so glad that I finally got the motivation to finish it because honestly??? I love it #thank you again :)#me x the boys

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vnights · 4 years

Text

Canned Food

————

Includes a bit of heavy angst, and depictions of children in high-stress situations. Writing some of Mikes more iconic memories (and the source of his food-related trauma whoops) enjoy ??

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Michael has an incredibly strict diet. It must be from some kind of bowl or container, and it all must be one thing. Specific, yes, but it’s necessary if he wants to hold his supper. It wasn’t always like this, though. Lil’ Mikey used to snack often, and take large mouthfuls of food during family dinners. He used to be a real eater! Now, he can only remember those taco-tuesdays.

...All the children were waiting for their father at the table, listening to the front door open and close, all without a greeting. Tension began to rise in the kitchen as the three watched William enter, stripping his coat off, and looking at the empty plates. There was a scowl, but.. This bad-day negativity was quickly pushed down, being replaced by forced joy, a small grin finding the mans lips.

“I take it you’re hungry?” He asked with a head tilt, his smile rising as all three nodded at the same time.

“We’ve been waiting here for hooouuurrrrs! I thought we were going to starve!” Elizabeth exclaimed dramatically, slouching in her seat and pouting. This drew a chuckle from her father, who shook his head at her.

“Your brother hadn’t grabbed you a thing? I’m sorry, sweetheart.. How irresponsible of him.” His eldest son went wide eyed and held his arms out, mouth shaped in a small ‘o’, becoming personally offended by taking unwarranted blame. While moving to the fridge, William snickered and corrected himself. “I’m joking, loosen up a little bit.”

Frozen vegetables were removed from the freezer and placed on a pan, a pot of water being centered on the heating stove. A simple meal was planned, mac and cheese with veggies. It was easy, and required little effort. ...Doesn’t mean it isn’t like a chore, though. Today has been active from start to finish, and Will was mainly hoping to just.. Sit for more than a second. Luckily, things need time to warm up, giving him time to rest, taking a seat at the table with his children.

“Did everyone behave? No fights today?” His opening question.

“Eliza threw a big hissy-fit ‘cause she couldn’t play outside, then she went out anyway and started screaming when I pulled her back inside!”

“I didn’t scream! Yuh- You should have just let me out!”

“But you didn’t want your shoes, and you got dirt all over the flo-“

Both kids silenced upon looking over, watching their parent rub his temples, feeling a headache coming on. He grumbled lowly and leaned over, deciding to.. Not argue, and just settle it. “Elizabeth, you need to listen when Johnathan is in charge. It’s all I ask of you. Johnny, just.. Just let her play without shoes, it’s not a big deal. Nnnnow... Michael? How was your day?” The middle child finally looked up from the bear in his lap, simply shrugging in response. His tiny scowl spoke much more than he did, however. And.. Seeing as both the other kids seemed hesitant, one could guess something else happened today. “...Mike. Go ahead, dear.”

Glancing to Johnny and Eliza, the boy sighed and opened his mouth very wide, taking in a big breath. “...Johnathan was in my room and wouldn’t leave, so I left and went into his room, and then he came and pulled me out and ripped my shirt! An’- An’ he ripped Chica’s foot, too, and I tried fixing her but- But Elizabeth said she could help, so I gave her Chica and she made it even bigger’er, and when I said I was gonna tell you, they shut me in the bathroom, and wouldn’ let me out if I promised not to tell, but I- I told..” The child lowered his head and raised his shoulders, looking between his brother and sister, who now wore angered expressions.

There was no energy to deal with this. None. “..Why can’t you just get along with one another?.. This is why I don’t leave you home anymore!..” William stormed and stood up, squeaking the chair back loudly, causing both Mike and Eliza to flinch. He turned to take care of the thawing food, putting everything in and on the oven. With that little outburst, the tension has made its reappearance, keeping the kids on their toes. With silence finally filling the air, William had the chance to calm himself, grabbing a book on his way back to the table. “...Please stay hushed, sweets. Daddies head is pounding..” His request was accepted by each of them, each Johnathan, Michael and Elizabeth being silent, shooting glares at one another.

Waiting for the oven to beep was agonizing. The ice they were standing on was thin, as their fathers temper was like a ticking time bomb, just waiting for that one, little, thing. They were lucky to not have set it off. For right now, anyway. Once food was ready, William sighed heavily and stood up, folding his book and setting it aside before going to the stove, asking the kids to line up with their plates. One by one, they were sent back to the table with full plates of food, retaking their seats before digging in. Johnathan and Elizabeth did, anyway. Michael seemed to be.. Distracted, and not eating. He just didn’t feel like it, his stomach being stirred with anxiety and bad feelings and everything.

His reluctance was noticed early on.

“...Michael, why are you not eating?” William started softly, keeping his temper collected.

Mike shrugged, keeping his eyes to his teddy. “I will in a secon’..”

“...At least show me five bites. Can you do that for me?”

“I guess so..” Mike nodded and did as he was asked, scooping up five rather tiny bites. He’s simply lost his appetite, rethinking the day and all. None of his family members seemed impressed with his hesitant swallows, though.

“C’mon Mike, it isn’t torture! Just eat the food!” Johnathan decided to add.

“I am! Lea’me alone!” Michael shouted in retaliation.

“Stop bickering and let him eat! He’s eating! There is no time limit on food!” William blew a fuse and shouted, making every hush-up again.

They had a quiet meal. Only three of the people at the table finished their plates, Michael was still not done. Not nearly. Johnny and Eliza went to their rooms, Will went to shower, and Mike was told to stay until his food was finished. There were no doubts, not a single one, which is why William took his precious time rinsing the work days grease off his body and mind. And, for a moment, it seemed to work. He felt better, and after a nice, long hour and 40+ minutes shower, he was so ready to see his sweet little angels ready for bed. It was when he re-dressed and exited the restroom that his mood was immediately wrecked.

“Michael Afton!” He shouted loudly, causing the boy to flinch harshly and look over, fear filling his features. “Why are you still seated?! Have you taken even one more bite?!”

“I- You said stay here ‘til I was done!..” The boy whimpered, tugging his bear closer as his father approached.

“Look at that plate! You haven’t even touched it!” He pointed down at the food, resting his other hand on the chair. “I gave you so much time just to eat! I slaved to make sure you were fed, and you-! Nnngggg!! MICHAEL! Eat!”

With the, currently, small outburst, Mike teared and quickly turned to grab the fork, his wrists shaking greatly while he scooped up the veggies and mac, shoveling it into his mouth. A noodle found its place down Michaels throat, tickling on the way down, making the child set his utensil down and begin coughing. Due to the pause, William’s anger only grew, making him boil over with a growl. He slammed his fist down onto the table, making Mike yipe frightfully.

“You don’t get to take your time anymore! Eat! Eat your food!” The consistent yelling made Michael begin to cry, emotionally retreating into himself. William tensed, clenching his fist tightly before, once more, slamming it down, hitting the edge of the plate this time, sending Mikes food all over the tables edge, and the floor. This completely busted Wills temper, making him fume. “FINE! Since you’re too incompetent for anything, I’ll do it for you!”

“Daddy-?!” Mike shouted worriedly, scooting back before getting grabbed. William, in a shocking act, force-fed his child, grabbing a handful of mushed, cold food and shoving it into Michaels mouth. The boy desperately tried pushing the others arm away, only to get it roughly shoved against his face. Eventually, Michael began kicking, being able to release himself from his fathers grip, and making the chair wobble and fall over, leaving the child gasping, crying, and crawling away. He then choked wetly, puking on the kitchen floor over the course of two cough-ups. Mike sobbed lightly with a shiver, carefully looking back to his father.

William was staring down at the mess he made with an expression of complete shock, and sorrow. Guilt washed over him like a thick blanket as a soft, barely audible breath left his throat. Listening to Mike whimper and cry drove him mad, causing his clean hand to rest over his own mouth, and making him step closer, kneeling down in a much softer, much less scary manner. “Michael, baby I’m sorry, I didn’t.. Mean t.. Mikey, come here, come here, my love..” He slowly motioned over, scooting closer to the other. Michael shivered as William got closer, scooping him up like a baby. With a nuzzle and a cuddle, William carried the child while pacing around the house, whispering soft, sweet words of comfort in an attempt to make up. The commotion certainly kept the other kids in their own rooms, at least..

...That sick never left him. Even now, all this time later, he still has to settle for good ole’ Spaghetti-O’s.

#//yes at the end I refer to Mike himself #five nights at freddys #fnaf #fnaf rp #possible tw #possible trigger warning #//I wanted to get Something out there #//SO I HOPE THIS IS OK?? SRY ITS SO LONG AND KINDA SLOPPY AND STUFF #Michael Afton #William Afton #Elizabeth Afton #Johnathan Afton #//custom name for Big Bro cause he needed Smthng

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amisssunbeam · 4 years

Text

A Little Response to Rhavewellyarnbag's latest Review of The Terror's "Horrible from Supper" (the italics are me)

Being another look at The Terror, episode 01x07, “Horrible From Supper”. But first, the characters in The Terror to whom I own an apology for the things I said last night when I was drunk, in ascending order of how vile it was: Francis. Yes, what I said was true, but I should not have said it. Goodsir, on general principle, because he is a nice man, and doesn’t deserve to have the likes of me talking about him that way. Author’s note: Only daily do I apologize to Harry Goodsir (fictional) for the things I say about him, and to Harry Goodsir (nonfictional) for the things I say about a fictionalized version of him. I like to think that the former would forgive me, but I think that the latter might not. I painted him from the few photos made of him; he has a delightfully reproachful look. Resting bitch face, even.

In the 1845 photos, his eyebrows come together in a way which could be interpreted as judgmental. But, when we think of the trials of sitting for a daguerreotype at that time (not nearly as jolly and pain-free as depicted in “The Ladder” –forgetting about the subsequent Tuunbaq attack) Goodsir’s reproachful look might merely result from the tedium of having his picture taken (or that fatal tooth was beginning to hurt). Tozer. Though, again, I meant it, and, like, look, I defy you tell me that he doesn’t look absolutely stunning when he’s afraid for his life in “Terror Camp Clear”.

“The Terror” certainly broadens the parameters of handsome-ness. Tozer, while listening to Morfin singing “The Silver Swan”, is more attractive than, than, than the Moon! Or the Pyramids! He’s supernatural.

The ship before it weighs anchor, before it, in some fundamental way, becomes a ship. Not yet having fulfilled its function, it is more like a theatrical set. The notion of limbo is a fitting one: the men descending the ladder, coming from the bright, noisy world above, could be entering the afterlife.

Who’s the cat who does the words about utter existentialism? Rod Serling, was that his name? Did everyone see his episode of “The Twilight Zone” about the toys in the Salvation Army barrel? Yikes.

Nothing is working as it should, logic is suspended, and the topsy-turvy world of the carnival will become real.

The movie “Topsy-Turvy” is a great favorite of la famille Sunbeam. Even so, there are useful parallels between that film and “The Terror”: class clashes, pretense and pageantry, and mainly ripping away the fine lace mask of the Victorian era. The attitude of the servants in both shows is strikingly craven.

“Any tips, sir, for a first-timer?”

In the super-heated world of fandom, “any tips for a first-timer” sounds like the sort of pick-up line EC would use on the true Cornelius.

Poor Morfin.

Morfin is “The Terror’s” equivalent of the Victorian Little Nell. Headaches, bad teeth, song-forgetter, probably a once-in-a-lifetime sodomite but nevertheless flogged for it. When he and Tozer go out on that exploratory mission, he falls flat down and Tozer says something like “Don’t volunteer if you don’t have the bottom for it.” (More heat for the fandom). And he gets to be the first to see the severed heads. (Who thought Tozer and Morfin would make a good team for this task? Did they draw names?) “Gently with that one, please.” It’s a little bit insensitive of Goodsir to express concern for his luggage before he does, Morfin, after Morfin’s just collapsed from pain, only looking like the living dead. That trunk, though, is Jacko’s tomb.

Harvey, your theory about Goodsir’s, ah, class-related selfishness is confirmed here.

“Are these our choices, Cornelius, or are they being made for us?” Gibson seems to falter, which is interesting. His idea to separate from the larger group doesn’t seem to be his own, which suggests that Hickey understood that it couldn’t be seen to have come from him. Gibson looks like death warmed over, but Hickey is just as perky as ever.

Gibson seems to get on-and-off injections of great intelligence, but his death-warmed-over look is consistent through the series.

Hickey is also under-dressed, not even wearing a hat.

This is perhaps a very English-major thing to say, but there is a suggestion of a climate change (or a massive change in consciousness) occurring after Carnivale, as if the trauma of the fire left living dead who can no longer feel the cold, or, having felt so much fire, the survivors have had the idea of cold burnt out of them.

He does sometimes dress more appropriately, as in “A Mercy” when he was helping Hartnell transport supplies for the carnival. Suggesting that, in this scene, Hickey means to maximize his attractions. The obvious beneficiary is Gibson, but I think Hickey sees some value in displaying himself for Tozer, the one Hickey is really after, and has been since at least “Punished As A Boy”.

A sexy thought; how much nudity the men would crave. When Hickey is flogged, he is completely exposed to the men present, and I think the sexuality of his having his pants pulled down really hits the sailors hard. Francis alone looks like he’s going to climb out of his skin with the ferocity of his feelings (I won’t say desire, but that’s what I mean). Was it you, Harvey, or someone else who discussed how strong the thirst for touch must be among the Franklin Expedition? I imagine the thirst to see bodies is just as powerful.

Then, I was immediately resurrected by the peek at Collins’ suspenders. He is... built like a cement outdoor commode. There is a lot of Collins to love.

The suspenders become iconic. Collins is one very alluring sailor, even in his bulky sea-diving outfit with that great furry head sticking out. Yet his sexuality seems neutered, compared to the other significant sailors (Still, if Hollywood decided to make a chubby “Wuthering Heights”, Collins would make the perfect pudgy Heathcliff.) Author’s note: I don’t think Francis thinks very much of Goodsir, and the feeling is mutual. Goodsir has to obey Francis, but it’s duty without devotion, without deference, Goodsir having seen very little that would indicate to him that Francis has reformed himself. Francis may have stopped drinking, but he’s up to his old tricks, dismissive unless he wants something, ingratiating when he does. This is the way that Francis behaved toward Hickey, which gives an interesting contrast between Goodsir and Hickey: once Goodsir understands Francis’ motives, he’s no longer taken in; Hickey must understand that Francis was only drunk and trying to get into Hickey’s pants, but Hickey continues to try to make Francis like him.

Francis might resent Goodsir’s place in society, so settled and unique, while Francis himself has to maneuver around Sir John and James and all the rest. But Hickey he can control. (In a way, it’s a shame that Irving, the stupid old king of coitus interruptus, has to bust in again. It would be in vain, and yet interesting, to consider what might have happened if that seduction had been consummated. Think of the bickering harem Crozier could assemble: Hickey and Jopson and Gibson and then Irving, etc etc. (But this speculation, that a captain would handpick a seraglio of sailors, is ruined by the knowledge that, despite all the porn stories and movies, there is no one a teacher would want less to seduce than her students.)

James has to move his little pick ax from one hand to the other to reach out to Francis, suggesting that, emotion aside, he made a conscious decision (his bones not yet reduced to broken glass) to grab Francis’ jacket, right over his heart, no less, and jostle Francis in a friendly manner.

This moment is comparable, to those who might be interested, to Star Trek: The Original Series’s “Amok Time” when Spock grabs Kirk by the arms. Quite the pensee could be written comparing Kirk-Crozier (the fair-haired captains) and Spock-Fitzjames, the haughty eyebrow-waggling second. The latter’s reserve is melted, melted utterly by his realization of how much he loves his Captain.

Author’s note: I am into Edward, but conditionally: I like him in that coat that makes him look substantial. Matthew McNulty is lovely, but he’s far thinner than I thought he was, which came as a bit of a shock.

His shortness is also quite astonishing. I can’t imagine Levesconte being involved.

Levesconte is too busy lying on his little officer’s cot, reminiscing about the time he said “benjo” and everybody cheered.

“There was a fourth man.”

I know you are referring to the raid on Silna in “Punished as a Boy”, but these words put one in mind of T.S. Eliot’s notes to the “Fire Sermon” in his “Wasteland”: “it was related that the party of [Anarctic] explorers, at the extremity of their strength, had the constant delusion that there was one more member than could actually be counted”. Ah, the hypnotic potency of the top of the world.

Did Edward just grab Irving’s knee? Judging by Irving’s expression, yes, I think he did. I think he leaves his hand there for the rest of the meeting. Actually, no, he does not, but he appears to again bring it down to the general vicinity of Irving’s lower body.

I have run this scene over again and again and again (like the Zapruder film), and I think Edward does make an aggressively intimate gesture: “left and to the back, left and to the back.” Irving does not seem displeased.

Hickey begins to assume what he imagines as Tuunbaq’s character. Having already, it’s implied, eaten part of Heather’s brain . . .

It is more probable that Hickey was just tapping at Heather’s brain, mainly because a brain IS not like a pudding; a pudding can be nibbled on without anyone noticing. But if someone nicks a part of a cathedral, which is a self-contained entity, it would be noticed by, at least, Nurse Tozer. Still Hickey might have tasted the cerebrospinal fluid, just for the Hickey of it.

When first aboard Terror, Hickey appears to be sizing up his new environment, but he also looks relieved, hopeful. It’s implied that he had a lucky escape from England, which had gotten too hot for him, but I think that he really believed that he was making a fresh start. Taking another man’s name was practical, perhaps a necessary evil, but I think that E.C. just didn’t want to be E.C. anymore.

I admire the symmetry of Hickey throwing a Neptune-sized bag down by Hodgson, thus startling him far more than one think a tough lieutenant would be startled.

Author’s note: . . Silna doesn’t fall into Goodsir’s arms, because there’s no reason why she would; she might like him, but he’s merely the least untrustworthy of a group of untrustworthy men who, by the end of the series, have not just made her home almost uninhabitable, but killed her father and her friends. Her discovery of Goodsir's body, the state it’s left in, confirms it: if this is what the British do to each other, she was lucky to get away when she did.

Hear hear!

By the way, if one is in the mood, another pensee could also be written about the real daguerreotypes of the Franklin expedition. I am particularly amused by Gore and Fairholme. Gore hates Lady Jane and this stupid thing she’s making him do. just so Sir John can be further exalted. Fairholme picks up the vibe and poses just like Gore, only he has to borrow the affable Fitzjames’ jacket.

I think we’ve all been there.

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thestuckylibrary · 4 years

Text

A Year in Reading: 2019 - Julia

2019 wasn’t kind, but fandom is always there to cheer you up. Under the cut is a list of my favorite 2019 reads <3

Please make sure to check the additional tags for each of them and happy reading!

January

The Pajama Party Incident by follow_the_sun (oneshot | 1,455 | T)

A pajama party goes horribly wrong, then wonderfully right.

heartbeat going strong by fireflyslove (oneshot | 4,364 | T)

Steve's been sent to kill the dragon holding the Princess hostage, but the Princess isn't a hostage, and the dragon isn't what he seems.

I’m a Sucker for a Wild Boy by jinlinli (complete | 9,897 | T)

Steve is a vampire who’s never met a werewolf in his life before. Bucky is a werewolf who doesn’t even know vampires exist. Naturally, neck biting means two very different things to them.

In which Steve goes for a midnight snack and accidentally gets himself werewolf married.

The Very Heart of It by merryofsoul (oneshot | 17,743 | M) - Restricted

In which Captain America adopts a dog from Bucky and they become friends — and then more.

call me old-fashioned by I_mNotYourEnemy (oneshot | 7,458 | T)

Steve rises before the sun, runs through various exercises until his muscles burn and sweat gathers on his brow. He showers and dresses and eats, and then heads out the door with dampness still clinging to his hair. His path doesn’t cross with anyone else’s until he reaches the local subway station. He jogs down the stairs to the platform and sees the man waiting there once again, the sergeant.

Or: Bucky joins Steve on his morning commute. Steve draws him and gets his number.

the long walk home by Deisderium (oneshot | 3,566 | E)

On the walk back from Azzano, Bucky keeps touching Steve's chest. Then he touches it some more. And more.

Steve bites his lip raw. AKA tiddy fic

Heckin' Chunker for Love by canistakahari (oneshot | 2,708 | T)

On the inside of the big floor to ceiling window of the office across the street, someone has used Post-it Notes to spell out a message:

W H A T I S Y O U R C A T ’ S N A M E ?

February

bucky barnes and the art class by belovedmuerto (oneshot | 1,420 | T)

Bucky takes an art class, because he wants to spend more time with Steve.

Patience by cleo4u2 (oneshot | 5,073 | E)

You should never Google yourself. Steve knows that, he's been out of the ice for over a year, but he just can't help himself. After finding a gorgeous, sexy brunette thirst tweeting about calling him Daddy, he can't help himself from responding, either.

i want it, i got it by bornes (oneshot | 1,499 | T)

Ten minutes into their impromptu mall adventure, Steve has offered to buy Bucky a designer sofa he had sat on briefly to rest his legs, a $600 headband, and a diamond-encrusted butterfly clip

Remember How to Love by betoning (oneshot | 3,852 | T)

“We shared a bed,” Bucky remembers, "and your toes were freezin’. We didn’t – nothing more, though.”

“No, Buck,” Steve swallows. “Nothing more.”

(Bucky wants more.)

tease me, squeeze me by goodmanperfectsoldier (oneshot | 3,757 | E) - Restricted

It isn’t his fault that Steve has absolutely no sense of modesty. It isn’t his fault that Steve has no desire to be in his Captain America uniform any longer than strictly necessary. It isn’t his fault that Steve tends to start disrobing as soon as they hit friendly airspace, so that he can pull on a t-shirt and sweatpants before they even make it back to headquarters, much less get home to their apartment.

The Fool in the Mirror by thepinupchemist (complete | 111,489 | E) - violence, check additional tags for warnings!

The Avengers, SHIELD, and the world at large have underestimated the pain that Steve Rogers is in.

The night after a near brush with a suicide attempt, Steve discovers the world of support omegas, and in his desperation for relief from the battlefield of his brain, demands to have one.

Enter Bucky Barnes: retired marine, millennial, amputee, brother, son, and support omega. He maybe, just maybe, can help a broken alpha heal in the twenty-first century.

The Best Way to Wake by LeeHan (oneshot | 42,285 | E)

James Buchanan Barnes lay in a glass pod in the middle of the table, frozen since he fell. Steve’s hands were on the glass before he realized he’d moved. “Wait, Captain!” “Get him out,” Steve whispered, his hands searching for a clasp, a keypad, something. “Captain, we need to keep him in stasis—“ “I said get him out!”

March

Taken by Surprise by Mireille (oneshot | 1,606 | E)

It turned out that there were things Bucky didn't know about Steve, after all.

In the Shadow of Armistice by superheroresin (complete | 63,491 | E)

Sedryn Amathion is a young Ñoldor elf born of lower Himring near the end of the harrowed Second Age. Vice-Captain of the Forlindon Shieldmasters, herald of the High King Gil-Galad, and devotee of Eärendil, the Star of High Hope.

Or, as the ragtag Dúnedain troupe known as the Howling Commandos calls him, Steve.

The Commandos are to sabotage an orc signal tower deep within the Ephel Dúath mountains, clearing the way for the armies of the Last Alliance to march on Barad-dûr and rescue all of Middle-earth from the clutches of this new and terrible Dark Lord.

“Steve” has no way of knowing that love formed deep behind enemy lines would settle so completely inside his immortal heart, defying time, distance, and ultimately death itself.

Tinder Is the Night by rohkeutta (oneshot | 6,802 | E)

It’s the quality that gets him first. The profile photo looks like it's been taken with a semi-professional camera: it's sharp and remarkably unposed compared to most people on Tinder. The guy in the photo is the size of a fucking fridge but with Marilyn Monroe’s waistline, accentuated by the way he’s standing half-twisted towards the camera.

He’s also in the process of getting arrested.

Steve, 28, it says under the photo. New York City. Some say I have an arresting personality. This photo is from my good side. The other has a shiner.

Introduction to Fake Dating Your Best Friend 101 by crinklefries (oneshot | 24,627 | T)

Bucky stares at his best friend as though he’s absolutely lost what’s left of his dumbass mind.

“Excuse me?” he asks dumbly.

Steve sighs and sags back onto the couch, covering his face dramatically with one large, well-manicured hand.

“Dean Coulson thinks we’re dating. And gay. But like, for each other. And now I need you to fake date me so I can convince the Chancellor to fund my research.”

or;

Steve and Bucky are a pair of professors who have to fake date for academic purposes and are real dumb along the way. It's not so much a forest of pine as a whole landscape of it. It turns out fine, probably.

straight from your heart by luninosity (oneshot | 10,516 | E) - check additional tags for warnings!

Steve doesn’t mean to have the orgasm. Not exactly. Not the first time, anyway.

It’s the leather and the buckles and the capable stance. It’s the determination: familiar, and not. Steve doesn’t even know which mission this had been. Where this snapshot of the Winter Soldier had been captured, a splinter out of time. Too many to choose from. But that doesn’t matter.

His skin prickles, his heart races in supersoldier extra-double-time, with want.

Things That Go Bump in the Night by seapigeon, velleities (complete | 38,266 | E)

Many an odd critter and item have ended up on the front porch of the property Bucky house-sits in the Middle Of Nowhere, but a bleeding blond man is a first. A short inspection reveals the man to be none other than Steve Rogers; ex-Captain America, vigilante, and a wanted fugitive. Steve’s stay of a few days of recovery is prolonged, under instructions for him to lie low until the Avengers can sort out the mess that has become the Sokovia Accords. Bucky is pretty sure that he’s committing an act of treason by providing Steve a place to stay. He is also pretty sure that lengthy interaction with Steve makes one prone to impending headaches and possibly ulcers. And he is certain that he is, very assuredly, in danger of falling in love with Steve.

skin by mcwho (oneshot | 1,945 | E)

Steve is spooning Bucky, an arm draped loosely around his middle, laying on the large sofa opposite the TV. His lips are against Bucky’s hair, breathing him in.

It’d be an average Thursday night if it wasn’t for Steve being buried to the hilt inside of him and showing no signs of moving any time soon.

Rouge Fétiche by bangyababy, Neutralchaos (oneshot | 6,941 | E)

“Steve,” Bucky breathed, coming closer. “Stevie, what’s all this?”

Steve made no move to cover himself, now that Bucky had seen it, there was no point. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the ground. “What’s it look like?” he bit out. “I’m wearin’ women’s panties, that’s what it is.”

Steve has been keeping a secret from Bucky-sometimes he likes to wear women's underwear. He thinks it's wrong and he shouldn't want to do it, but he can't help it, so he keeps it to himself. But when Bucky walks in on him one day, Steve eventually has to explain himself. Of course, as it turns out, he was worried about nothing.

Army Proof by aetataureate (complete | 18,423 | T)

Despite his recent and unexpected promotion from green recruit to national icon and media darling Captain America, Steve Rogers still lacks the skills and experience necessary to thrive in the Army. First Sergeant Tony Stark has dealt with decades of tomfoolery from his subordinates, but nothing has quite prepared him for the particular brand of chaos that trails in Steve's wake.

Steve's team includes at least one competent adult in Sam Wilson, but also contains Clint Barton, a mechanic who cheats at cards and still loses, and Natasha Romanov, their terrifying police escort. Together, the gang must navigate across Eastern Europe without causing Steve’s next major international incident.

On the other side of the world, Bucky Barnes is contending with a new reality while doing what he can to keep his accidental hero boyfriend on the path that will eventually lead him home.

much tattoo about nothing by Deisderium (oneshot | 14,576 | E)

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

before we can breathe easy by belovedmuerto (oneshot | 22,052 | T)

No one touches Steve.

Bucky sets out to do something about that.

April

Count On Me Like One, Two, Three by MacksDramaticShenanigans (oneshot | 4,235 | G)

“I also need to get one of those scooter things,” Bucky adds. “That’s gotta be better than these damn crutches.” Steve’s eyes drop down to the crutches again, and he frowns. “Crutches are never comfortable,” he agrees, shaking his head. “You want a piggyback ride?” He asks, grinning as he laughs at his own joke. Bucky ducks his head and laughs along, a good-natured smile settling over his lips. “Yeah, that would be real nice, wouldn’t it?” He says, not thinking anything of it. When he looks back up, however, Steve’s already in the process of shrugging his backpack off of his shoulders. The smile melts off of Bucky’s face and his brows furrow together. Was that… a serious offer?

stay by birdjay (oneshot | 1,318 | T)

The platform buzzes, and suddenly goes quiet. The cycle has finished. Bucky doesn’t bother to look. There’s no way Steve’s coming back when he has the chance to stay. He moves to walk away, to move on with his life, somehow.

“Buck -- ?”

Bucky whirls around, hair flying.

might never be normal again (but who cares) by napricot (complete | 51,540 | E)

The beginnings of a plan took shape in Steve’s mind, as clear and simple as a tactical frontal assault. He’d prove to Bucky that this was it, he was staying: Steve was retired from the fighting game, Steve wasn’t going to let anything keep pulling them apart. Maybe then when Steve finally told him he loved him, Bucky would believe him.

All things considered, Steve thought he’d handled the whole Thanos killing half the universe thing and the ensuing bitter, desperate quest to defeat him pretty well. Sacrificing his super soldier serum to use one of the Infinity Stones wasn't a problem either, not when it meant getting back the half of the universe they'd lost, and especially not when it meant getting Bucky back. But retirement and finally confessing his feelings for Bucky? Those were proving to be more challenging.

May

Smile by WinterTheWriter (oneshot | 2,205 | E)

They say Bucky never smiles, and that's true.

Almost.

The Settler by charlesdk (complete | 52,203 | M)

“What do you want to do?”

Steve pauses and looks at them.

What he wants is to stay with them. He doesn't have any family left, they all died before he even joined the war and became... this. Captain America turned whatever he is now. But Natasha and Sam have become his family over the years. Not just because they're on the run together, fugitives and vigilantes, but way before that too.

He doesn't want to leave that.

But he knows that, realistically, he can't stay with them and they can't stay with him.

So he looks at them with a smile and lies. “I don't know.”

OR; In which Steve retires and finally finds a place to call home.

And fill our bodies up like water till we know by caughtinanocean (oneshot | 22,705 | T)

Wolves mate for life. It's both the best thing about Bucky's life, and the most inconvenient.

After six days in Steve’s arms, Bucky dreams again, for the first time since the ice — wolf dreams, four feet on the ground, the smell of the earth, and his eyes in the sky.

The moon is coming, and this reprieve — like all reprieves — is temporary.

June

Home Is Wherever I'm With You by cydonic (complete | 88,570 | E)

This is what happens when you buy a house to flip having only seen the online images: you get more than you bargained for. Bucky Barnes brings all the tools to handle a dilapidated home, but he's hardly prepared for a smart-mouthed child (with poor aim), a crying baby, and the hottest dad he's ever seen in his life living right next door.

That House-Flipper!AU.

People Change, Love Doesn't by Kateis_Cakeis (complete | 119,144 | E)

Bucky didn't fall from the train. Steve didn't die when he jumped out of the plane. They survived.

But suddenly, it wasn't enough to keep their feelings hidden. They had both almost died, only to come back stronger. Well, Steve was done pretending they were only friends, and Bucky was done too.

Surviving the war, however, brought so many challenges. Being SSR agents, eventually becoming SHIELD, building a family with their friends. Living. What would happen as the years ticked on?

miles to go before i sleep by alby_mangroves, obsessivereader (complete | 34,079 | E)

Vietnam vet Bucky is just trying to get a hot meal, and maybe a job, in the small town of Hope, but the local law enforcement has other ideas. When their brutality triggers a flashback, Bucky snaps and escapes from their custody. Hunted, exhausted, injured, he finds shelter for the night next to a cabin in the middle of the woods. He means to be long gone before the cabin's occupant awakes. Things don't turn out quite the way he expected.

All of Your Love is Sunlight by canistakahari, WarlockInTraining (oneshot | 22,657 | E)

Sometimes the path to happiness involves bad timing turned good, a butt plant, and a little everyday magic. For Steve and Bucky, it's all that and more.

if you're looking for jesus (then get on your knees) by voxofthevoid (oneshot | 18,171 | E)

S.H.I.E.L.D Agent Bucky Barnes is captured on a mission and meets Commander Steve Rogers, the erstwhile Captain America.

A Year in the Life of Sarge's Person by Angst_BuriTTo, BlueSimplicity (complete | 189,125 | E)

This is the tale of a year in the life of Sarge’s person, AKA James Buchanan Barnes, as he tries to recover from everything that’s happened to him over the past eighty years. During that time, he is forced to deal with bad therapists, people with their own agendas, memories he doesn’t want, horrible losses from his past and almost insurmountable odds.

But this is also the story of all the crazy people Bucky meets along the way, who help him when he’s at his lowest, point him in the right direction when he feels lost, make him laugh, grow to love him for who he is, and most importantly, give him hope when he needs it most.

It’s a long and difficult journey, as Bucky works not just to let go of his past, but to also rebuild his own identity and a future for himself. And with Sarge at his side, Bucky slowly comes to realize that not everything he once loved is lost, and if he can just have enough faith in himself and those around him, he might, just might, get his very own happy ending.

Bucky IS Sarge’s person after all. As the once abandoned puppy Bucky saved one night from freezing to death, he knows, more than anyone, just how much Bucky deserves it.

Let this be light work by caughtinanocean (oneshot | 8,628 | T)

On the run with Sam and Natasha, Steve finds the words to describe his commitment to Bucky. As with most of Steve’s decisions, there are unintended consequences.

July

everything the water can be by jehans (oneshot | 5,622 | E)

“So,” Bucky continues slowly, his blush deepening, “you get the best time today. . . ,” he takes a breath, drops his voice even lower, and soughs, “I’ll let you take off my clothes. All of ‘em.”

Shit.

Steve suddenly realizes what a fucking moron he is for having initiated this line of flirtation here at the pool and right before practice.

it don't mean a thing (if it ain't got that swing) by carissima (oneshot | 6,375 | M)

“Alright,” Bucky says and stands with his hands on his hips and gives Steve a narrowed glare. “Hit me. What went wrong?”

“I uh, don’t actually know?” Steve says, and now he feels an embarrassed flush creep over his cheeks. “She stood me up.”

Bucky stares at him. Blinks once. And stares some more. “You,” he says flatly. “You got stood up?”

An Act of Kindness by greyhavensking (complete | 12,716 | T)

In which Bucky Barnes ignores personal boundaries and Steve Rogers gets increasingly flustered.

(Or five times Bucky manhandled Steve + one time it was the other way around)

crowding the hitter by rooonil_waazlib (complete | 12,917 | E)

But the trash monsters are coming closer, and Bucky’s going to be pissed if he has to get his grate replaced tomorrow.

He turns off the panini press, heads into his bedroom, and pulls his college baseball bat out of the closet, pausing only to pull on the slacks he’d just taken off. He’s going to go defend his shop, and he’s not going to do it in his underpants.

August

time on my hands (could be time spent with you) by thedoubteriswise (oneshot | 23,024 | M)

"You doing okay, kid?”

Steve releases a breath, deciding how honest he wants to be. No point in lying. No point in telling the truth, either. "Glad to see you."

"That’s not what I asked, but same to you, punk."

Quench by AidaRonan (complete | 9,417 | E)

Or the one where archeology intern Bucky Barnes meets actual archeologist Steve Rogers and reaches levels of thirst scientists once believed to be theoretically impossible.

I'll hold on a little tighter (maybe you'll stay the night) by glittercake (complete | 10,393 | E)

"No strings. I ain't got time for strings." Steve murmurs.

Bucky nods helplessly.

"Be discreet." Steve continues kissing his neck and talking, now also rubbing and squeezing his thigh. "Condoms, always. Back out anytime you want. And sweetheart—"

"Hm?" Bucky hums in a delirious daze as Steve works all the way down to his collarbone and bites, making Bucky jolt forward.

"I like it rough, don't do it any other way. If that ain't your thing, we gotta call it off right now."

this love immortal is an assassin's delight by voxofthevoid (oneshot | 12,954 | E)

After the Battle of New York, Captain America refuses to work for S.H.I.E.L.D and remains in New York. Alexander Pierce activates the Winter Soldier to handle the situation and unknowingly signs Hydra’s death warrant.

Watch With Glittering Eyes by Kellyscams (oneshot | 6,746 | E)

Witch Steve and familiar Bucky have a fun night together.

Happiness is a handful by pamurai (oneshot | 1,274 | E)

Steve's pecs compel Bucky's memories to return faster. Together they explore what makes them happy and what the future holds.

(It's Steve's tits.)

It's Been a Long, Long Time by non_tiembo_mala (oneshot | 11,862 | E)

It's been a thing almost as long as they have, since before Steve grew up and filled out his serum-given body. Connection, comfort-- whatever it is, it grounded them then and, as it turns out, it grounds them now, many decades and disasters later.

Or: the one where Steve's beautiful tits help Bucky get his memory back.

September

Do What You Did by Bentrumors (oneshot | 1,075 | E)

“Come finish what you started,” Bucky mumbles into the pillow.

“I can’t. Sam’s waiting for me.”

Bucky turns his head and glares at Steve through bleary eyes. “You’re going to leave me hanging?”

Steve shrugs.

a slow start by birdjay (oneshot | 2,689 | E)

It’s a gorgeous sight, Steve spread out like this. He wants to lick, wants to bite, wants inside where he’s hot and tight. Wants to make Steve make that gasping noise that he loves so much.

All in good time.

An Apple in the American Pie by Kimra (oneshot | 2,479 | M)

At the end of CAWS Steve runs off with Bucky, and also falls pregnant. Go figure.

October

All the sweetness and all the glory by pes (oneshot | 2,916 | M)

“Do you know,” Steve began softly, mindful of the sleeping child, “I can’t tell whom she takes after the most just yet, but one thing I know for certain. This,” he said, tracing Annie’s dimpled chin with the very tip of his finger, “this she got from your side of the family.”

(In which a visit to Bucky's new niece kindles all sorts of feelings, and a precious little secret comes to light.)

Give Up the Ghost by humapuma (complete | 44,541 | E)

Bucky Barnes is an anomaly; he's physically an Omega but has the body of an Alpha. He has a lot of the stubbornness too. Steve Rogers is an anomaly; he's a romantic and he believes in the traditions his parents raised him with. There's something about Steve that makes Bucky's Omega brain say, Mine. There's something about Bucky that makes Steve want to be more than a little reckless.

ever just as sure by ariadne_odair (complete | 7,938 | M)

“Your boyfriend is here.”

It’s take Steve a second to realise Sharon is talking to him; it then takes him even longer to respond and to stop choking on his reply. “I - er, is he?”

Sharon eyes him up like he’s lost his mind. “Well, the guy currently parking his crappy car in our car park is definitely not mine.”

Steve and Bucky are idiots. They're also in love. Obnoxiously so. Alternatively titled: Five times someone has a front-row seat to Steve and Bucky's relationship.

Where the Heart Is by Chancy_Lurking (oneshot | 12,133 | T)

“Couples are more than welcome to room together.”

Steve freezes up, feels his eyes go a little wide before he can help himself. He stumbles over his words, “Oh, I—No, we’re not—”

“We’re not going to give you any trouble about that,” Fury presses, turning to squint at them head on. “Stark likes to say we’re opened minded and close-knit. Your private life is your business, but you don’t need to hide here, understand?”

Steve goes to reiterate that they’re not a couple, but startles when Bucky’s hand settles on the small of his back. He looks at him like he’s lost his mind, but Bucky’s just smiling at him. “Never can be too careful these days,” he says.

(Steve and Bucky pretend to be a couple when they move in, but at some point, it stops feeling like pretend.)

Like gifts under trees by pes (oneshot | 6,528 | T)

Inside the leather satchel, bundled in a few layers of cloth, was the smooth swell of an egg. A dragon egg, dark, and shiny, and fluttering with life in its makeshift nest.

“I think it’s about to hatch,” Steve breathed, clutching the bag to his chest helplessly.

Bucky didn’t need to think twice.

Your voice is all I hear somehow, calling out winter by chaosmanor (oneshot | 13,597 | E) - stucky/symbiote

Bucky is remarkably functional, considering what he's been through. Then, sometimes, it's like a sullen killer is wearing his skin.

(Or, the fic no one asked for, where Bucky has a symbiote named Winter and everyone has to work out how to live together.)

Misery I Need by mwestbelle (oneshot | 2,592 | M)

"You've seen his file, right?" She let out a low whistle. "What a shame. To do that to such a pretty omega."

They thought he was asleep. She didn't mean anything by it, and if she knew that he'd heard he's sure she would have apologized. But it's her voice that he hears whenever he feels out of place, uncomfortable in his skin. What a shame.

OR a different take on Steve Rogers' body issues

November

Simple by Ellessey (oneshot | 4,043 | T)

Steve's holding Bucky's drink out to him and he's looking at Bucky in that way he does. It makes Bucky want to cover his face. It makes him want to peek inside of himself and see if he can actually spot the butterflies.

"Here you go," Steve says. "Extra hot, so be careful, 'kay?"

"Okay, thanks..." Bucky says. And then he has to swallow again, and his throat feels awfully tight but he practiced this last night and he can do this. He can. He opens his mouth again and adds, "Steve."

Every morning Bucky walks to a nearby coffee shop as a kind of exposure therapy. He isn't going there for the coffee, and he's not actually sure he's going there for the therapy anymore, but he's definitely going there for Steve Rogers' smile.

Every Move the Feeling Follows by thepinupchemist (oneshot | 5,412 | E)

After the Avengers win the battle against Thanos, everyone gets to go home. Steve and Bucky retire, get mated, and get surprised. They have a baby, and they get to start their lives again.

not idiots at all by icoulddothisallday (oneshot | 2,297 | M)

Somehow, despite the seventy years in the ice and his overwhelming fame and popularity, Steve’s words have never been recorded anywhere. He suspects that he has Peggy to thank for that. The words have always been a source of embarrassment for Steve, for one reason or another. When he was a child, his words were just another thing that set him apart from others. Other kids had common words - mostly names, as that was what you were supposed to say to a stranger. Some kids got dealt generic words like excuse me and good morning. Steve’s words didn’t make much sense, the ones that did were...not intended for polite conversation.

Thursday Nights with Bucky Barnes by Ellessey (oneshot | 4,662 | T)

Steve has a comfortable, well-worn routine for his Thursday nights, until the old man who runs the laundromat breaks his hip.

Then Steve has Bucky instead.

Rare Is This Love (Keep It Covered) by histoires_eternelles, musette22 (complete | 66,773 | E)

It's 2014. Captain America has been out of the ice for three years and is trudging along, saving the world and trying to get used to living in the future. Steve thinks he knows how the rest of his life is going to pan out – a life of duty, which he chose when he signed up to be Erskine’s science experiment. But then, he meets Bucky Barnes: the out-of-this-world-gorgeous mechanic and war vet, who turns Steve’s life upside down and makes him question everything he thought he knew. Slowly, Steve comes to realize there is more to life than duty and punching Nazis. Just one problem though: how on earth does a 96-year-old virgin who only just realized he may not be entirely straight make the transition from crush to relationship? Cue healthy amounts of self-doubt, awkward flirting, pretty blushing, existential crises, emotional growth, and maybe, possibly, a sexual awakening.

rather be a lover than a fighter (found peace in your violence) by voxofthevoid (oneshot | 4,355 | E)

The dust has settled, and the world is healing. Men are too.

The Soldier's Revenge by LeeHan (complete | 76,406 | E)

Bucky Barnes turns himself in to SHIELD two years after dragging Captain America out of the Potomac River. He was deprogrammed in Wakanda and has been hunting down Hydra ever since, but he needs help if he wants to take proper revenge on his captors. He turns to his old enemies: SHIELD and the Avengers, but it'll take more than a few words to win their trust after the Winter Soldier brought SHIELD to its knees not long before. Now at SHIELD's mercy, the only thing that stands between Bucky and his revenge is the approval of Captain Rogers: a self-righteous asshole that Bucky barely knows.

All Those Little Pieces by Ellessey (complete | 40,516 | M)

Steve has never forgotten Bucky Barnes. Not their childhood together, not the horror of the moment Bucky fell too far for him to reach, and not the way he's loved him all the while.

Bucky has forgotten everything about Steve, at least at first. But there's still a feeling there, warm in his chest—and maybe now that he's found his way back to Steve Rogers and his sunny apartment, there's a chance it might turn into something more.

December

No fics for this month, since it was a difficult one.

In any case, I hope you enjoy all of these recs above and have a great 2020! <3

#mod picks #mod julia

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tales-unique · 4 years

Text

QUARANTINE II

—Question from DeadlyNighshade97: That’d be interesting... What if, for a separate chapter also, Reader gets sick anyway, despite best efforts not to? And all four of them, burdened by guilt for all the stress caused that likely made Reader sick in the first place, /all four of them/ pay Reader back in the same fashion? I can’t tell whether that’d be chaos or peaceful maintenance... or both?

“Ah— Ahh-choo!” It’s about the seventh sneeze that’s come from you in a row and you almost feel as though your body is going for a world record. It’s no surprise that you’ve become sick after taking care of the Horsemen when they were ill, but what did catch you off guard was how slowly it had taken to manifest itself. Weeks had come and gone since then and all of the Four were back to their normal selves and, at first, you had only suffered a small cough. However before long you found yourself overcome with a fever, your throat sore and scratchy, while your nose grew stuffy and useless.

Whimpering from the nest you had made from every blanket you could find you curl up tighter, trying to get as much warmth as you could without much success; your body burned, raging with your fever, but you still felt cold. It was one of those moments where you truly hated life and were very much feeling sorry for yourself. As you wallow in misery you conclude you’ve had enough of the hell that is daytime television, feeling as though your brain may begin to dribble out of your ears at any given moment. With a frustrated huff you toss the remote of your T.V. aside, leaving the drone of The Pioneer Woman behind you as you shuffle to the kitchen, kicking off the sheets as you go. As you rummage around for another bottle of Cold & Flu you’re oblivious to the sound of your front door opening and closing, the rumble of footsteps approaching, because your clogged sinuses prevent you from hearing properly. Strife and War easily enter your home with the key you’ve given them, having gone ahead of Fury and Death so they can conclude business in peace before they too come over. “She really does have it bad,” the elder of the two murmurs, shaking his head as he flicked his gaze over the mountain of blankets strewn about your couch and the crumpled tissues overflowing from your bin. “Hey!” He calls out, peeking his head into the kitchen to see you chugging the medicine like your life depended upon it. This causes the Horseman to snort in laughter, beckoning his brother to come and see but War had already settled on the couch after pushing the blankets to the other end of it. With a shake of his head he looks back to you, all tired eyes and wild bed hair, and gives a sympathetic smile. “You look rough,” his voice was low and quiet and you’re thankful that he’s considerate of the pounding headache you have. “Yeah,” you croak, voice raw from coughing, “because of you guys.” It’s all in good humor, he can tell from the smile on your face as you shuffle past him to return to your blanket nest. War looks troubled upon your return, his brow creased with concern at your awful complexion and scratchy voice, but remains quiet and inviting when you come to him. He sits back as much as he is able on your small couch, allowing you to curl up with your blankets against his side for warmth. The behemoth is always devilishly hot and it’s glorious right now. Strife follows close behind and can’t help but feel a slight tug of, well, something that he doesn’t care to name when he sees how you’re already making yourself quite at home leaning against War. “You’re so warm,” you groan in delight, burying your face into the crook of his flesh arm without a care in the world. It doesn’t take long for Strife to ditch his armour and helmet in favour of taking the unoccupied space at your side, spreading out, ( laying claim , you would say ) and lazily running a hand through your locks. They’re damp with perspiration and he frowns when he feels how your skin is hot to the touch. Sharing a look with War, who is equally perplexed at the scorching heat that’s radiating from you, Strife decides that it’s time they gave you a little TLC. It’s the least they can do after you so dutifully looked after them when they were ill. War is the first to speak up after the mutual, silent agreement between the two, mimicking his brothers low tone to minimise any pain it may cause your head. “Perhaps you should got to bed? It would be more comfortable than here,” he suggested, grumbling when you responded by burrowing deeper into your blankets against his side. “C’mon, sweetheart, we’ll come too,” Strife chimes in, trying his best to coax you out with a loving nickname and the promise of cuddles. “No,” you reply stubbornly, voice muffled from the fabric. It goes on like this for a few moments before it’s obvious that you’re not budging, so War decides he’s had enough and proceeds to lift you up, blankets and all, and escort you to your room. You try to make it difficult, squirming and grousing the entire way, but you’re no match for the towering Horseman. Once again Strife is quick to follow, laughing as War sets you down, a pout on your tired, pale face. “That wasn’t fair.” “Life isn’t fair, sweetheart, now c’mon, snuggle up, it’s time for the cuddle pile!” You stick your tongue out a Strife, who returns the gesture, and you can’t help the small giggle that escapes you at his antics as you make yourself comfortable. Strife, obviously, is quick to be at your side, joined by War on your other side, once he has shed the bulky armour he sports. The sudden heat erupted from such contact has you melting into the sheets, a blissful smile on your lips. You’re unsure what time it is when the sounds of hushed voices rouses you from your sleep. Your throat is dry, your nose still stuffy, but you feel a tiny bit better after such an undisturbed sleep. It’s then you notice the flowing, magenta hair of Fury as she sits perched on the edge of your bed, speaking with Strife. Deciding that you have no real need to move you stay where you arm, resting your head against Strife arm, War’s warm body at your back; still asleep, you assume, from the way his breathing is deep. “She’s still no better? Sickly little thing. She’s been ill for weeks!” Typical Fury, always impatient, but her tone betrays a note of worry. “You know how Humans are, that’s why she needs us,” Strife counters, voice warm and affectionate, “Has Death made that tea yet? I want her to have some before she goes down for another round of z’s.” Death. Making tea. For you. Oh, this you have to see, if only to prove it’s not a fever-induced hallucinations. Wriggling slightly against the confines of the blankets, you let out the most believable yawn you could muster, blinking up at the two Horsemen, who now turned their attention to you. Strife shifted so he could brush your hair from your face, smiling as he did so, while Fury turned to sit cross-legged in front of you. “Hey sleepyhead, you have a good nap?” Strife teased, and you caught Fury’s eye-rolling as you nodded. “Yeah, I feel a lot better.” “Good,” Fury soon chimes in, tilting her head as she looks you over, “you’ve been moping around in this place for too long.” “Well, being ill will do that to ya, Fury,” you chirp, watching with a cheeky smile as she huffs and turns away. You were feeling much better with them there to raise your spirits, but it wasn’t long before your flu reared its ugly head and you began spluttering, trying to hold your cough in. Strife, sporting a frown, rubbed your back soothingly while Fury left to get Death and the tea he had been brewing. The commotion cause War to wake, blinking bleary white eyes for a moment before sitting up straight, panicked by your hunched over form. Before he could speak you quickly shake your head, hand practically flailing. “I’m fine!” You quickly wheeze out trying to contain yourself, “just coughing!” It’s hard but you manage to stifle the awful cough, laying back to catch your breath just as Fury returned, closely followed by Death. Sitting up straighter, you wipe at the slight wetness that pooled at the corner of your eyes, smiling to the masked Horseman as he offers you a languidly steaming mug ( your favourite, the one with the minimalist crows flying on it ) before crossing his arms. “Drink all of it,” Death starts, pointing to the mug held cautiously in your hands. It doesn’t smell too pleasant, but then again the best medicines never do and you trust Death to not give you anything that would harm you. “It’ll work better that way,” he added, softer this time, but still firm. He was affectionate in his own, muted sort of way, and you nodded with an appreciative smile. He wouldn’t coddle you, not like the others, but would come and offer you support when needed. “Thanks Death,” you called out when he turned to leave, catching his gaze as he glanced over his shoulder at you, watching you sip the drink before giving a nod of his own, satisfied you would do as told. He would be back and so you let him leave the room, allowing him his moments of solitude while you soaked up the attention of the remaining three. “Every drop, sweetheart,” Strife teased as he watched you drink Death’s tea, chuckling warmly at the way your nose crinkled at the taste once you had finished, setting the mug aside. Now you could focus on lapping up the attention they were giving you. With a satisfied hum you curl up between War and Strife, beckoning Fury to come lay with you all once she’s finally settled on a film to watch; Wonder Woman. You can hear that the T.V. in the living room has been turned off, no droning of cooking shows or as-seen-on-tv adverts, which prompts you to conclude that Death is settled there, no doubt on standby should anything happen. It isn’t long before the Horsemen have all fallen asleep to the sound of glorious battle and Wonder Woman’s iconic image. You give a soft, relaxed sigh at the sight of War laid back against you headboard, content in his rest, and Strife curled at your side, clutching a blanket that no doubt smelt of you to his face, is equally as content. Fury, unlike her brothers, slips in and out of sleep, dozing here and there as she tries to stay awake to watch the movie. Her voice is soft when she calls your name, having heard and felt you shimmying out of the covers and get to your feet. “Where are you going?” She asks, leaning her head onto her hand from where she lays, stretched out like a cat, along the width of your bed. “Getting some water,” you hum, looking to the door, “and to check on Death, I was hoping he’d come join us.” You keep your voice quiet out of habit, not wanting him to hear you, but you know he probably still can and it causes you to frown slightly. The female Horseman notices and sighs, eyes stark in the light from the T.V. “Death is...Well, Death. He likes his own company sometimes, always has, but he does care.” It’s awkward and her gruff tone doesn’t make the words sound sincere, but you know her better than that and you know what she means. With a warm smile and a nod you leave your room, pulling the door behind you so it’s mostly closed. Padding quietly into the living room you don’t make it far on your path to the kitchen before Death gives a small cough to gain your attention, though he doesn’t get up from his seat. Instead he reaches out a hand, a simple gesture, and beckons you over. It’s not uncommon for Death to be affectionate like this and you accept his advance eagerly, forgetting your need for a drink altogether. “Are you feeling well?” Death asks, voice quiet and soft yet still firm. It was a delectable mix, one that always made you weak to him. “Yeah, much better,” you murmur as you settle on the arm of the chair he’s sitting in, his outstretched hand coming to rest on your lower back. “But that tea tasted awful,” you added, laughing lightly. “As long as it helps, does it really matter about the taste?” Quips the Horseman as he easily pulls you from your perch to his lap, allowing you a moment to get comfortable. “Yeah, actually! It does!” You huff, but there’s a grin forming on your lips and you’re struggling to keep your laughter at bay. Death’s snarky humor always makes you feel better, almost as much as his medicines do. “Hm. I beg to differ,” he answers easily, leaning back in the seat. You settle against him with practiced ease, able to find him comfortable despite the sharp features his body possesses. With a turn in your fever you’re thankful for the coolness of his skin, it helps to dampen the raging heat that radiates from your flesh. You swear that, at this point, you rival War in how hot you are. Blowing a piece of hair out of your face you hum in contentment, finding solace in his quiet presence. “I’m glad you all came today, I feel a lot better thanks to you guys,” you mutter through a yawn, eyes closing. “It was no trouble,” Death answered, chuckling slightly when he could feel how your breathing became rhythmically slow and deep. At least you didn’t snore, unlike his siblings.

#Darksiders #Darksiders Imagines #Darksiders Imagine #Imagine #Darksiders War #Darksiders Death #Darksiders Strife #Darksiders Fury #War #Death #Strife #Fury

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rhinoswriting · 4 years

Text

A Life On The Road - Part 1 (A Luke Hemmings FanFic)

Overview: Elizabeth and Calum have been best friends since they were 15/14 respectively. Elizabeth is from and lives in the UK, but her family lived in Sydney for a brief 2 year period which is how the two met.

With Calum’s band, 5SOS, embarking on their biggest and most ambitious world tour to date, he has invited Elizabeth along to work as a photographer/content creator for their social media. This is in the hopes that travelling with them and getting to explore so many new cities will help Elizabeth achieve her dream of becoming a full-time travel writer.

Elizabeth is acquainted with the rest of 5SOS but doesn’t know them tremendously well. Obviously that changes as they are all forced to be in one another’s company for the duration of the tour. As the tour progresses and new friendships blossom, Elizabeth feels the connection between her and Luke grow more and more.

A/N: This chapter is a lot of story set-up and introduces you to the protagonist.

****************************************************************************

I lent my upper back against one of the work kitchen walls and peered out of the window beside me. Any other day, the grey curtain of drizzle would have perfectly matched my work mood. But today was not a normal work day for me. Today was my last day in this hell hole. I was finally getting out of here to pursue my dream of becoming a travel writer. I hugged my mug of coffee closer, content in the knowledge that nothing was going to step on my good mood today.

“I cannot believe you are leaving me with these people.” Drew complained as he walked over and lent some of his weight onto my shoulder while cradling his own steaming mug.

“I am sorry that I’ll be leaving you here. I truly am.” I told him, and I meant it, “But you know as well as I do how much this place can drag a person’s mental health down. So when a best friend offers to let you piggyback off their career to help launch you own, you take it and make the sacrifice of abandoning your work husband.”

“I hate that you have a famous best friend.”

“Don’t be a bitter bitch,” I laughed nudging him in the side with my elbow.

Drew and I chatted for a minute or two more before making our way back to our desks at opposite ends of the office. When I got to mine I noticed that someone (probably my manager or Josie, the company busy body) had taken my second coffee break of the morning as an opportunity to place an envelope and small gift bag by my keyboard. As I placed my coffee down I noticed that the people on my bank of desks had swivelled their chairs, and thus their attention, in my direction. I also heard the tell-tale sound of high heels on cheap carpet tiles that indicated Josie was making her way over.

“Elizabeth,” Josie cooed in her usual fake friendliness, “I can’t believe it’s your last day here already! We did a small collection for you in order to say goodbye and give you something to remember us by. It’s been such a great three years and eight months working with you. We’re all sad to see you go.”

“Thanks, Josie. I certainly will miss how precise you are with details.” I said trying not to make my sarcasm too obvious.

I rummaged in the tissue paper hoping to bring this moment in the spotlight to an end as soon as possible. First I pulled out a small, sleek rectangle. Through the plastic window of the box I spied a matte black fountain pen -it was a genuinely lovely pen which surprised me. Next I pulled out a small bottle of Kraken rum -my go to with Coke on work nights out- which was followed by a second, identical bottle. The fourth and final leaving gift was a new 10 shot pack of film for my Instax Mini camera.

“Thanks guys...” I awkwardly addressed the room, “These are all really thoughtful and nice. I love the pen. Uhh, yeah, thanks again. Stay cool and all that cliche stuff.”

I promptly sat down and unlocked my PC to indicate that the show was over and I should now be left the fuck alone.

The company’s internal IM program was flashing at me in orange, indicating I had an unread message.

[Drew Clarke - 10:47 am] I am so sorry they are putting you through this. You look so awkward. I can see you blushing from here. It is hilarious though :’D I made such a big deal about the stupid pen they wanted to get you having to be matte black Also my leaving gift to you is that I have done everything in my power to ensure Josie knows nothing about your leaving drinks tonight

I responded with a simple gif of some character I didn’t know mouthing ‘thank you’ to acknowledge his last message and then went back to work trying to complete as much of my remaining work as possible.

The rest of the day dragged on as it would any other day of the week. The only difference was that I had the occasional desk visit from a colleague to wish me luck or let me know they’d be at the leaving drinks Drew had arranged for me that evening.

And then Drew was at my desk before the clock had even hit 5 pm,

“Start packing your shit up then. We’ve got a bar to get to.”

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

My leaving drinks were actually surprisingly fun. Which was as much of a good thing as it was a bad thing.

It was good because who doesn’t love people buying them either shots or rum and cokes? Plus Drew and I had had a beautiful drunken moment where we gushed over how much we treasured each other’s friendship and would definitely, definitely stay in touch always, and who doesn’t love those moments?

It was bad because I got in at 3:30 am, set an alarm for 6 am and left my house for the train station at 7 am with a hangover headache already brewing.

My morning then got worse when I remembered I had to change trains at Sheffield. Non-direct train journeys are enough of a pain without a hangover, rucksack, camera bag and 2-wheeled large carry-on suitcase to slow you down.

When I finally, and ungracefully, settled myself on the platform at Sheffield I glanced around to locate where I could get myself a coffee and some form of breakfast. I had a 50 minute wait until my next train so there was plenty of time to try and nurse my hangover with coffee and carbs before getting crammed into another train and eventually reuniting with Cal in Edinburgh.

I spotted a place on the next platform over with indoor seating and made my way to it. Once inside the warmth of the glass rectangle I grabbed a twin pack of almond biscuits from the counter display and ordered a large cappuccino as well as a breakfast bagel. I then went and dumped all my luggage (promptly followed by myself) down at the nearest table and waited for my name to be called over the mellow jazz music.

Once I had returned to my table with my breakfast order, I opened my phone to check my messages and view the photographic damage from the night before. As I sipped my coffee I opened my photos app and was pleased when nothing embarrassing immediately jumped out at me from the 50+ square icons of photos and boomerangs that I had very little memory of taking. Most of the photos were blurry and every single boomerang was a fail, so I deleted them to save storage space on my phone. There was a super cute selfie of Drew and I, with his fiance, Adam, photo-bombing us in the background. It made me smile so much that I set it as the lock screen on my phone.

Next I moved on to my messages. There we unread messages awaiting me from Drew, Cal, my mum and weirdly my now ex-manager.

Manager Si: Didd u mange t geet home ok?/?. Gd luk w everythin

Work Hubby: I miss you already. Hope you got home safe! Text me by midday so I know you’re still alive x

Mum: Good luck on this big new adventure of yours! Do not forget to call us when time zones allow. Your Dad and I will always b here to support you and cannot wait to see you succeed. Say hi to Calum for us. Mum & Dad Xx

Cal: Hey, hey! So stoked to see you later and have you come oN FREAKING TOUR WITH ME!!! See ya in Edinburgh! X

I responded first to my mum, because I was raised right. I flat out ignored my old manager’s drunk text. I assured Drew that I was still alive because if I was dead it wouldn’t feel like there was a gremlin hammering away inside my skull. I followed that up with a screenshot of my new lock screen. Finally, I replied to Calum:

Morning :) Feeling rough after my leaving drinks last night. Have I already begun my new rock n’ roll lifestyle?! So fucking excited to see you again!! You are not prepared for the hug you’re gonna get! X

With everyone replied to (or ignored in Si’s case) I put my phone face down on the table and tucked into my breakfast bagel. Then as I still had 20 minutes to kill I thought what better place to slap some make-up on than the middle of a train station coffee shop?

Looking and feeling more human, I made my way from the coffee shop to platform 4 as they announced my train was about to arrive.

I hopped on carriage L, placed my luggage in the overhead rack and settled into my seat for the next 3+ hours. I quickly shot a text to my parents and Cal, letting them know I was on my last train. Then I pulled my noise cancelling headphones on, opened up a relaxing Spotify playlist and promptly fell asleep.

#luke hemmings fanfiction #luke hemmings fanfic #5sos fanfic #5sos fanfiction #luke hemmings

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alecmagnuslwb · 4 years

Text

Sparkle

Read on AO3

“Why exactly are you making me watch these films?” Raphael asks settling on the couch his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed.

Maia settles in next to him and throwing her legs over his and snuggling up close. Three days ago Maia came to the Hotel Dumort and declared proudly that Raphael was going to watch all of the Twilight Saga.

“It’s imperative as a vampire that you finally understand why people make all those sparkling jokes about you,” she said leaving no room for argument, plastering one of those bright smiles on her face that Raphael can never resist.

So here he is now settling down for a five-movie saga. Saga implies epic, but if Simon isn’t lying to him these movies are far from epic.

“Because I think it’s funny,” she says finally answering his question once she’s settled. She makes grabby hands for the bowl of popcorn that sits on the empty cushion beside him. He grabs the bowl handing it to her and rolling his eyes at her response.

“This better be worth it,” he grumbles as she selects the first movie on the tv.

The movie starts and Raphael is fairly certain that the blue, grey light filter is going to give him a headache, he’s also certain that he’s never seen two straight white people less compatible for one another.

But he keeps watching enjoying Maia’s colorful commentary on the films acting as if she’s never seen them before when he knows for a fact she was in theaters for each one.

“I have never played baseball during a thunderstorm, this is so stupid,” he says voicing his opinion for far from the first time since they started this viewing.

Maia chuckles. “It’s about the musical aesthetic, Raph, this is considered one of the most iconic scenes of all the movies.”

Raphael groans. “Ugh, if this is the most iconic scene I might not survive this binge.”

Blissfully the first movie ends and Maia excitedly claps like she’s watching high art theater, not melodramatic vampire romance.

“Movie two is all about the wolves, it’s incredibly stupid and fairly offensive, but it’s also trash at it’s finest,” she says with glee. She’s right about that, the second movie drops the blue filter which his eyes appreciate, but the story is something else. He wants to crawl into the movie and shake some sense into this girl literally not moving for months on end all because of a moody vampire boy.

He gets increasingly more into the movies as they go, not because he likes them, but because they’re so easy to mock and so easy to get frustrated at. He does not know how any of the people involved ever got to work again, but he’s fascinated by the world’s worst love triangle and how Jacob actually is kind of a bitch.

Maia seems delighted every time he speaks up and adds his own little commentary or joke. She’s obsessed with the fact he sees Jacob for who he truly is, a mean girl in jean shorts.

“This would be so much better if the sparkly vampire with the hair and the werewolf boy were in love with each other instead of fighting over this very dull girl,” he comments gesturing frustratedly at the screen increasingly more often now that they’re at the fourth movie. He can tell from the soft smile on her lips that Maia thinks it’s cute how into this he is now.

“Aw, you romantic,” she says loving that whether he meant it or not he’s choosing the werewolf and vampire romance just like them.

Raphael shakes his head furiously. “This is not about romance, this is about how every conversation they’ve had has been unnecessarily close quarters and that Eddy there seems to smile more around Jacob than the supposed love of his life,” he rants.

Maia chuckles. “I theorize the smiling is actually because Robert Pattinson got happier and happier as he got closer and closer to the end of making these movies.”

Raphael nods, humming in agreement his eyes never leaving the screen despite the insistence he doesn’t care about these movies.

“Why are her parents so cool with her marrying an extremely odd, pale boy she’s known for less than year two days after graduation?” he actually shouts pushing the blanket they’ve been sharing off his lap and sitting at the edge of the couch. He stays there sitting at the edge both engaged in and enraged at these movies.

“Oh thank god someone finally died, kill them all while you’re at it,” he grumbles as the Volturi lop off Carlisle’s head. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him it’s all a premonition which they’ll end up preventing. When just that is revealed she’s glad she stayed quiet, it’s worth it for the furious ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ he lets out that she’s certain the entire hotel heard.

Eventually much to Maia’s dismay, because of how much she’s enjoying Raphael’s rants, and Raphael’s glee to be finally free of this supposed epic movie saga they reach the credits of the final film. He’s questioned everything from the romance to the vaguely incestuous relationships within the Cullen family to the music choices to why exactly Maia as a werewolf would want to enjoy these and seemingly he’s finally run out of steam.

Raphael drops his head into his hands rubbing across his face and sighing like a man with an apocalypse nigh not a man who just watched somewhere in the realm of ten hours of overdramatic love triangles.

“Why?” he says in almost despair lifting back up and looking at her. “Why?”

She laughs at him rubbing a hand across his shoulders comfortingly and a little patronizing.

“You can’t tell me that wasn’t fun?” she says raising her eyebrows.

He grumbles, “Only because you were here with me.”

And oh, that’s not fair he can’t go and say romantic stuff like that when she’s trying to mock him for getting so into this little mini film fest of theirs. He smirks knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“Ugh,” she groans standing up from the couch and stretching. “How am I supposed to make fun of the fact that you love Twilight when you say schmaltzy, romantic stuff like that?”

“I do not love Twilight,” he says firmly standing to join her.

“You love Twilight,” she sing songs skipping away to the kitchen and out of his reach the now empty snack bowl in her hands.

“I do not!” he shouts following after her as she just giggles in delight.

#my fic #maiaphael #maia roberts #raphael santiago #shadowhunters #i'm lowkey doing flufftober but only like a handful of prompts so here you go

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banditthewriter · 5 years

Text

Electric Love - Billy Russo - 6

Sorry it’s taken me so long to get this part written and posted! Moving has kicked my ass.

I know some people didn’t get notifications for part 5, so be sure to read that one first if you haven’t already!

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif is mine*

Enjoy!

*****

Electricity skimmed across your arms as you stared at the computer screens. You could almost taste the information you could pull off of them, but you didn't need to. Everything was displayed in front of you.

And Frank's buddy might not appreciate you hacking into his stuff.

"Does it hurt?"

You looked away from where David Lieberman was typing a mile a minute. Frank was nearby, a frown on his face as he looked at you. Quietly you stood up and made your way towards him, but not too close.

He'd kept his distance so you did as well.

"Does what hurt?"

He motioned to your arm where there was a barely visible crackle of electricity running down the slope of your shoulder. It had been acting up with all of these computers around.

"The spark? It doesn't hurt me, but it hurts other people." You thought about Billy and how your power seemed to change with him. "Well, it can hurt other people. I think I have some control over it, but I don't understand it completely."

Frank reached out with one steady hand. It hovered uncertainly around your arm until you have him a nod. With your permission, he let his fingers rest against where the spark was zipping across your skin.

The electricity connected with him–you could feel it–but he didn't even flinch.

"What does it feel like to you?" you asked quietly as you watched the spark flick at his fingers.

"You know when your foot or your hand goes to sleep? When the feeling comes back and it's almost like pain but it's not? It kinda feels like that."

You knew the feeling because it felt like that with you too sometimes.

If you didn't want the spark to hurt the person, it wouldn't. Of course sometimes you lost control, like accidentally burning Billy during your nightmare, but you had control when you were aware.

Frank dropped his hand to his side and looked over at Lieberman who was still typing away.

"You died from a gunshot wound, right?"

Your hand went to your chest where the bullet had come out. Sometimes you thought it still hurt, but there wasn't even a mark to show that it had happened. The only reminder of your death was the memory that came up sometimes when you were half asleep.

And the way Billy sometimes looked at you as if he couldn’t believe you were there.

"Yeah," you whispered as you tucked your hands into your pockets, "shot in the chest."

Frank nodded but didn't look back at you. You could see the look in his eyes, a haunted look that tugged at your heart.

He was thinking about Maria and the kids. Their deaths were violent, abrupt, and undeserved. You were going against criminals so the violence against you was expected and accepted. The Castles were innocent. And you had to wonder if Frank was asking the same question you were.

Why did you get to come back when they were lost for good?

Frank's phone rang in his pocket. As he pulled it out, you crooked your finger and felt the information zip through you.

Someone named Karen.

You moved away and let Frank have some privacy. Lieberman gave you an odd look as you settled into a chair near him.

"You're the lightning bug, right?"

You raised an eyebrow and then laughed at the term.

"I've been called worse, but yeah, that's me. And you're the ex-NSA hacker."

He shrugged his shoulder and went back to his screens. The information looked foreign, languages you didn't understand flashing up on the screen. You waved a hand and pulled the information into you.

"Rawlins was attacked in Afghanistan by a Marine?"

Lieberman looked surprised at your ability. He tossed a look over his shoulder and then back to the computers.

"By Frank, actually. He broke his orbital bone and is the reason Rawlins only has one functioning eye," Lieberman explained quietly. Then he motioned to you, "How do you do that?"

You didn't have an in depth answer for him about that.

"It's just something I'm able to do," you said as you flexed your fingers, sparks emitting as you did. "I don't know how it works. I can pull the information the same way I can pull electricity into me, it just… works differently."

Instead of building electricity in your body for a blast, it gives you access to information. You had tried unsuccessfully to figure out how information to worked.

You didn't bother mentioning that you could in theory manipulate someone's brain. That didn't feel like the kind of information Lieberman would appreciate.

Frank came up between the two of you, his hand resting against the back of your chair.

"What do you got Lieberman?"

As the two of them talked, you looked at your hands. It didn't feel the same with Frank that it did with Billy. First was the fact that you couldn't feel Frank the way you could feel Billy. And secondly was the actual feeling of your gift with the two of them. With Frank, it felt almost the same as it did when you used your powers normally. With Billy?

With Billy it felt like your powers were absorbed into him. You half expected him to be able to shock you sometimes.

It didn't make sense and with the creator dead, you may never get an answer as to why.

------

Dinner was almost ready. You had decided to treat Billy to a nice meal before you told him what you discovered that morning with Frank.

You could touch people. You had control over your power.

It meant that you and Billy didn't have to continue to practice hands off. You could consummate your newfound relationship. You could be together.

Part of you craved that intimacy. It felt like it'd been decades since you had been with him. You needed to feel that connection again.

And you were certain you wouldn't hurt him.

As you finished checking the meal you had cooked, you felt something slam into your head. Not physically, but a mental weight that drove you to your knees.

It was worse than any headache you'd ever had. It felt like someone had poured concrete into your skull and it had hardened instantly. The pain radiated outward and you tried to find something to hold onto but there was only tile under your fingers.

And then you were engulfed in warmth as someone wrapped their arms around you. The pain ebbed enough for you to recognize Billy wrapped around you, his voice far away as he called your name over and over.

You curled your fingers into his jacket and tugged him closer. As your face pressed into his neck, the pain inched away even more. The next touch was the same. His hand went to your neck and you were soothed even more than that.

Finally the pain was gone and you were able to lean back away from him, carefully in case the pain came back. He brushed his hand against your cheek, his dark eyes roaming your face carefully.

"What in the hell happened?"

Your hand raised to his face before it dropped back to your lap.

"It's the creator. He's alive. And he's pissed."

------

The creator was alive. The realization had shaken you to the core. And Billy was the beyond angry at himself.

"I put him in Rawlins's hands. I gave that bastard a weapon."

Not just any weapon. The creator held power over life and death, sure, but he could create metas. And you were proof that metas were dangerous.

In your fear of the creator being brought back to life, you grabbed hold of Billy and dragged him to the car. He drove because your hands hadn't stopped shaking, but you directed him. The destination was the warehouse you had practiced in before.

"Why’re we here?" Billy looked confused, but alert. His gun was in his hand, but it wasn't held aloft.

Although you had a feeling your next statement was going to cause a problem.

"This is where Gregory found me," you explained as you moved to the center of the warehouse. "Stay back, I don't want to fry your phone."

Billy raised an eyebrow but he did as you told him. With him a good ten feet away, you raised your hands in front of you and pulled.

Nothing except the electricity in the walls.

You turned a little to the right and tried again. Nothing at all. Then again again after you turned another few inches to the right. Nothing.

Another turn. This time when you pulled, you felt something else. You moved over to the wall and dragged a nearby barrel over to climb onto. Tucked into a little dip in the wall near the ceiling was a cell phone.

As you jumped down, Billy came over to your side.

"What's that?"

You tapped the phone against your hand.

"I had a hunch that Gregory would have left a way for me to contact him. This was a method we agreed on back when we worked together."

Back when the two of you were together, you didn't say, but Billy obviously knew what you meant.

"And why do you need to contact your ex?"

You shook your head as you flipped open the phone. It was a burner. And the battery was low, but not dead. You gave it a quick charge with one finger, giving it another bar in the battery icon.

It was a handy trick, but you always ended up frying smartphones when you tried it. It only worked on flip phones.

"I don't need to contact Gregory, not really. Remember I said there was a meta who could track other metas? I need him."

Billy's eyes widened as he quickly made the connection.

"He can track the creator. And where the creator is, Rawlins most likely is."

You nodded and knocked your shoulder into his.

"You think you can curb your jealousy long enough for me to give him a call or do I need to do this alone?"

He tipped your chin up so that he could lean in to give you a kiss. You smiled against his lips as your power seemed to surge towards him.

"Call him," he mumbled against your lips, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You pushed away from him enough to pull the phone up. You went into the contacts and found the only contact. It was listed under just the letter G. After a deep breath, you hit the key and then put the phone on speaker.

It rang twice before Gregory answered.

"I hoped you'd call."

"This isn't a social call. I need to talk to Clive. Do you have his number?"

There was a rustling on the other side of the line before you heard a sigh.

"Why do you need Clive? Who are you looking for?"

You glanced at Billy, unsure how much information you wanted to give. He gave a short nod to you, letting you know it was your choice.

"I'm looking for the creator."

Silence. And then you heard a soft swear.

"Shit Y/N, you don't need to do that. Keep your blocks up like Clive taught you and he won't find you.” And then with a little reluctance he added, “I guess you're still with Russo."

You met Billy's eyes. There wasn't pride or smugness there, just Billy watching you. He didn't look like he was rubbing it in at all.

"I'm looking for the creator because we're going to kill him." Again.

Gregory let out a whistle.

"I don't think it's that easy," he offered quietly.

"Don't I know it. Billy already killed him once, but he's back."

"You sure he did it right?"

There was a snide humor in his voice that you didn't particularly appreciate. Before you could snap at him, Billy stepped a little closer to you.

"I know how to kill someone. Most people don't walk away from a bullet through the middle of their forehead."

Gregory was silent at that, not expecting Billy to be on the call. You almost felt bad for Gregory. It was obvious he still cared about you, but that was the least of your worries. If it hadn't been revealed that he had seduced you under the creator's demand, maybe you would have felt differently.

But you didn't care anymore.

"If his power was able to bring him back, do you really want to try again?"

You stood up a little straighter even though he couldn't see you.

"This time we won't make the mistake of leaving him whole," or giving him to a deranged ex-CIA asshole. "We'll cut him up and burn the pieces. Or we'll bury him in cement. He doesn't get to stay alive."

Billy nodded his approval of your declaration. It was the only way to be sure that he couldn't pull another Lazarus miracle.

"I'll get Clive to give you a call."

And then, without waiting for you to reply, Gregory hung up. You huffed out a sigh and closed the phone, tucking it into your pocket.

"I think I handled that okay," Billy teased as he put his hand on the small of your back and began guiding you towards the door.

Now you just had to wait to hear from Clive and find the creator.

------

"I might have found something," Lieberman stated as he tapped his finger against the screen with a frown, "but I don't consider it good news."

Frank moved over behind Lieberman to check it out. Billy stayed near the wall, but his attention was on the computers. You were tempted to tug on the information to check it out yourself, but you'd wait for it.

As they talked it over, the first real connection to Rawlins, you closed your eyes and tried to relax your mind. The barrier Clive had taught you to raise was shoddy at best, but it had kept the creator from causing you pain again. He wasn't tracking you at least; you'd feel it if he was.

A knock at the door startled you. Not just you. Frankie and Billy turned immediately and aimed their guns at the door. Frank gestured for Billy to move forward.

You stepped back a bit, your hands raised and waiting. Of course you kept your spark inside just in case it was someone who was just looking for a different house. Didn’t want to freak out some innocent person.

But you were ready if it was someone dangerous.

Billy kept his gun drawn, but lowered. He unlocked the door and yanked it open. Whoever it was, since you couldn't see them from where you stood, Billy didn't greet them. He merely stared and waited.

"Is Y/N here?"

That voice. You swore and stepped forward, tugging the door open even more. On the porch was Gregory, Clive, and a girl you vaguely recognized but whose name escaped you.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Gregory held his hands up a bit, enough for you to see the slight shimmer there. He was holding on to his powers, but you knew he could cover himself in an instant. Him showing up without it already activated was supposed to be a truce you guessed.

"You want to kill the creator. We want to help."

Impenetrable skin, able to sense metas, and… the girl had a venom that she could shoot out that paralyzed people. You remembered her power but still not her name.

Billy brought his gun into view, as did Frank as he stepped up beside him. He moved so that you were still in sight, but protected by his bulk. It put you in a position between him and Billy.

Lieberman was in the background quietly complaining about people just showing up uninvited. And you were pretty sure that was a gun in his hand...

"You want to give us a reason we don't shoot every one of you?"

Because the bullet would bounce off of Gregory and probably strike one of you. You put your hand on Billy's wrist, pressing it down an inch in a way to show him to lower the gun.

Gregory's eyes caught the touch. His jaw clenched before he looked up and met your eyes.

"You could use more metas if you're taking down the creator. Especially since it seems like he's making more."

Shit. That was your biggest fear. And the look Billy shot you told you that it was his as well.

"How do you know that?"

Frank raised his gun higher, aiming right at Gregory's face. In an instant the impenetrable sheen went over his entire body. The girl raised a hand, the hole opening up in the middle of her palm where the venom would shoot from.

"Because I can sense metas," Clive said as he put his hand on the girl's wrist like you had done with Billy. "I can sense the creator although he was gone for a few days. And there's more metas being created where he's located."

He wasn't gone, he was dead. Temporarily at least.

You gave a nod and then pushed Frank's wrist down as well. Billy watched as Frank gave in, lowering his gun, so he did the same.

No longer under threat, the girl lowered her hand. You wondered if she had closed the hole or if she was still on alert. Gregory sighed as the sheen of his power went away.

"We want to get rid of him. As long as he's alive, we're in danger. And if he's making more metas, he's making more killers."

You could feel Billy's suspicion of the three of them, although it was more aimed at Gregory. You turned towards Billy, giving Gregory your back. You weren't worried about being in danger. If the guys didn't pull their guns first, your power sometimes reacted without your demand to protect you.

"We could use some more metas," you said as you grabbed Billy's hand, your power climbing up his wrist, "because I don't think me going up against an army of metas alone is a good idea."

That was all it took for Billy to agree with you.

"They can help, but that doesn't mean I trust them."

Because they all abandoned you to the creator when Gregory told them to. You knew that's what Billy was thinking about. Not just that Gregory was your ex, but that he had played you and then he had left you when you refused his proposal.

Frank tucked his gun in his jeans and headed back over to the computers. You and Billy stepped back so that the three of them could walk in. Clive and the girl stepped through first, but Billy pressed his palm to Gregory's chest to keep him on the porch.

You reached out for Billy's elbow, but you didn't pull him away.

"You stay away from her," Billy threatened lowly as he leaned in towards Gregory.

"You worried she might remember how good I treated her?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but you didn't need to. Billy had that one on lock.

"Nah, not worried ‘bout that at all, because you'll always be the guy that used her on the creator's demand and then abandoned her when she turned you down. That’s why I don't want you near her."

Gregory's eyes flashed from Billy's face to your hand on his elbow. This time you saw what he was looking at. Not just your hand on his skin, but the ring on your finger.

"I get it," he promised.

Billy stepped away, but he didn't go far. He moved into your space and tugged you away with him, over to where Frank and Lieberman were pretending not to stare.

You almost expected Billy to–

His mouth crashed down against yours, the kiss very much for show. You didn't even mind his pettiness. Instead you kissed back for all you were worth.

You didn't want to hurt Gregory but you didn't mind reminding him that things weren't going to be the same.

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