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jackrrabbit · 4 years ago

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Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #tw dubcon #tw sacrilege #tw christianity #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia x reader #my hero imagines #boku no hero fanfic #smut

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ivy-loves-chocolate · 4 years ago

Note

Always wanted to ask for : Wesker x his SO in first few months of relationship at Umbrella (trying to hide work romance because of Albert's dumb work rules, but fails miserably) :D

Note: I gotta admit, it did occur in my mind at some point but never put it on paper. Thank you so much for being patient💜 It would also help me a lot if you can drop a comment or reblog 🤗

Pairing: Albert Wesker x F!Reader

Warnings: none.

-> Wesker is a calculated man who prefers logical thinking over feelings, so he doesn’t believe in romance or in the concept of relationship. For him, a partner is that person who you rely on to satisfy your needs and then move on with your life and goals. When they first met, his soon-to-be partner was aware of his ways, yet it was a surprise for both when things evolved into a separate direction, one that seemed like a traditional relationship. They would often meet after work, with Wesker coming to check on y/n for foolish reasons or y/n coming to ask Wesker silly questions. They yearned for each other attention and y/n was the first to initiate a serious talk about their feelings. Wesker enjoyed her company and he didn’t lie to himself when admitting that there was a slight sense of competition between them. Not that it bothered him, in fact, he liked a more competitive partner because it would push him to work harder on his skills.

-> And so they began dating, a weird territory for both of them since they have a deeper connection with their work rather than their personal life. Since Wesker is a strict and organized man, he’ll try to set boundaries between them so things won’t get out of control. He’ll focus more on what the outside world sees, meaning he won’t be comfortable expressing their affection in public. Mostly he will be the now to push her away every time she wants to be affectionate with him. Albert doesn’t want useless rumors circulating around. Not that he cares about what others think, he just doesn’t like people barging into his personal life or make assumptions about it. He tries to keep it professional and he can’t with y/n beside him because he melts the second that woman touches him. Because of this calming effect, he cannot think straight and he can’t risk mixing the wrong chemicals. So, the fewer interactions, the better. In their privacy, they both act like normal couples with no trouble expressing themselves.

->Speaking of public, one of his greatest fear is Annette, William’s wife, because she won’t hesitate to tease the poor man. She knows him as an incurable bachelor and finally having someone will be a premier of her mocking show. She has a liking for mocking Albert and it's not due to some hidden friendship, but more to an antipathy between them. She claims to be a bad influence on her family, but she doesn’t realize is that the only bad influence in William’s life is his own work. Next in line would be his sister, Alex, who has great satisfaction in teasing him due to their sibling rivalry. She is a mean queen and will show no mercy to her adoptive brother. His significant other is no exception. Alex would gladly run to her and tell her all these embarrassing secrets about Wesker, like his emo phase, the time he dreamed to be in a band and practice his growl ending up woking an entire institution one night, and the list goes on. What she enjoys the most is the picture she has of him from when he was in the army and was forced to have a crew cut. William wouldn’t care as he is too preoccupied with his research. How many juicy secrets slipped through William’s ear, secrets many would die to know (literally). He would just nod and keep starring throughout the small lenses of the microscope. It’s not the first time Wesker tells him about his amorous life, so his brain switches to autopilot mode. Sherry would be the most awkward and she will ask if y/n is her new aunt.

-> It works great. Wesker managed to keep the situation under control until he started to lose control over himself. He feels so better and confident in this relationship with y/n that he can’t resist not praising this woman for the good she makes him feel. So, he will kiss her while gently whispering a ��thank you” whenever she would help him with his work. He will hold her hand in the cafeteria and leave small presents on her desk whenever he would arrive earlier (chocolate, flowers, samples).

-> It’s obvious he had plenty relationship in the past, some in the traditional way, some modern ones, wither were visible for the public eye or not.

-> One of the main reasons he was afraid of opening up at the beginning was to protect himself. He can’t possibly tell how it will evolve so it’s easier to set boundaries. He has enough experience to know that everything is sweet at the beginning, that both fake it, and that it can turn out very bad. He wants to get to know his s/o before displaying their affection to the public or to get more emotionally involved. However, Y/N doesn’t seem to be bothered by this. She wants to take it slow as well, even if she wants to jump on him whenever she sees him. What can’t you love at him? He’s smart, handsome, responsible, and had a stable job. Sure he can be weird but y/n can see past that.

Wesker was meticulously watching the cells moving through the microscope lenses. It was a normal human blood sample that was about to be infected with the T-virus. Without moving from his position, he greeted his s/o who just made her way in the lab searching for some samples as well. He can’t get enough of her. He’s been breaking his stupid rules for weeks now. First, he held her hand in the cafeteria while waiting in line, then subtle hugs or shoulder massages while she was working, then small kisses that he didn’t care they turned out to be more passionate for the public eye. The relationship turned out to be better than expected and he sees it as a success. Besides, as the relationship advanced, Wesker became more aware of the other male coworkers who flirted with y/n (unaware of their relationship at that time), so he had to mark his belongings. Everyone knows about them, yet they know better than to be intrusive. As expected, Annette and Alex had their fun in teasing the couple and y/n had her fun in seeing Albert in a crew cut. He was adorable.

Once she got her samples, she went next to Albert without disturbing him.

Her fingers gently slid between his large ones while the other hand put down the samples and grabbed his arm. He squeezed gently her hand not taking his eyes from the microscope.

“Can you pass me the T-virus sample?”

“The blue one?”

“Mhm” he nodded.

Without breaking the hold, she passed him what he asked for.

Once the substance made contact with the blood Albert muttered under his breath “It’s working.” He said as the cell rapidly moved.

“What’s working?”

“The virus becomes more efficient.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

Albert couldn’t tell. He didn’t understand Spencer’s intentions so he couldn’t really have a proper reaction.

“I guess.” He stood up taking y/n in a proper hug. Her head was resting on his chest and she could hear his racing heartbeat. Something troubled him but she didn’t know why.

“You know can talk to me.” She lifted her head so she can look at him but he looked down at her with a worried gaze.

“It’s nothing, relax.” His hands moved to her shoulder and he pressed his lips on her forehead staying like that for a few seconds. The sound his lips made when he pulled away echoed in the room. They’ve been sitting in silence for a couple of minutes in each other’s embrace until Albert finally calmed down. He really needs to learn how to express his feelings.

#albert wesker x reader #albert wesker #resident evil

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little-red-hunk · 3 years ago

Text

Pliability

Pairing: Orange Cassidy/Original Female Character

Summary: Emily, a nurse and physical therapist for AEW, had barely been on the job before the pandemic hit. With no prior knowledge of how the business works, Emily learns as she goes in a situation that is not normal by any means. A harmless flirt, she makes friends easily with the talent and the crew. However, an actual real growing crush on Orange Cassidy, who seems to be flirting right back, has her in a tizzy and contemplating ideas that she had never really explored before.

Rating: Explicit / language and eventual smut

Word Count: 2,454 (Chapter 1/?)

Notes: I had an anon ask me why I hadn’t posted my fic directly to Tumblr and I didn’t really have an answer. If you’ve not had a chance to check it out on AO3 for some reason you can do so here! Also, the OFC Emily isn’t described in a lot of detail so that readers can self-insert if they’d like.

Emily Harris never expected that she would get used to sticking the world’s largest q-tip into the base of her brain every week. Yet here she was, taking a deep breath before slowly pushing that cotton swab up her own nose for the 3rd month in a row. After a few fits of sneezing and even more tears, she finally put the swabs in the plastic bag and sat it in the test kit box, which then went outside her hotel room door. It would be collected by one of the lab techs and she would then have to wait about 12 hours for her results. Once cleared, she would gather up her belongings, put on a ridiculous amount of PPE and start testing everyone that worked for AEW. It’s the same thing she’s done since March and, if the expert predictions were correct, would be something she will do for many months to come.

As a Nurse Practitioner, Emily was responsible for some of the lesser serious issues that popped up during any AEW event and a designated backup in case there was an issue with either of the two doctors on staff. In addition to that, she had earned her doctorate in physical therapy while in med school, so she often spent time with the athletes whenever extra hands (literally) were needed . But since the beginning of the pandemic, her duties now included handling the covid testing the day before the show aired. Emily liked staying busy, so the extra work was no big deal. All that it meant is that she came to work a day earlier than usual, but that was nothing seeing as she had no responsibilities at home (husband, kids, pets) that competed for her time.

At first, tensions were high and there was very obvious fear and trepidation with many over the pandemic. Now, everyone had grown accustomed to the “new normal” which had caused the testing process to be less contentious and in turn eased some of her own anxiety. She would go door to door, leaving a small bag of swabs and tubes, knock and then step about 10ft away. The person would open the door, take it and do the test while she watched to make sure they were doing it correctly. Most folks had mastered the skill of self-swabbing by now, so Emily only had a few regulars that she had to get up close and personal with; some crew, a ref and a handful of performers were included in this.

After she finished collecting samples from the 4th floor she looked at the list again. The only person left was one of the wrestlers: Chuck Taylor. Actually it listed his real name, but she had grown accustomed to calling everyone by their performer name. It just made it easier, especially at first. She often would use google to peek at the roster to put faces to names and then again to put fake names to real names.

Arriving at his room, she knocked and announced herself. “I’m here to pick your brain,” she yelled at the door, smiling to herself. The first time she had to help him, he had said the exact same phrasing. It stuck with her.

Chuck opened the door smiling and stepped aside for her to come in. “Man, you’re suited up even more than usual.”

Emily instinctively looked down at her current attire. “Better safe than sorry,” she shrugged, walking in. It was true, it was safe but it was damn sure uncomfortable. Never in her life had she ever had as much upper lip sweat as she did now. The culprit of course was her N95 mask that was covered with a second cloth one. That, paired with her face shield, tinted eyeglasses, a set of goggles, and her gloves made for a pretty ridiculous look. Like something out of a sci-fi film.

Chuck had already moved to get in position for the test by sitting in an office chair that he pushed all the way up against the wall. Both of them learned that this was the easiest way from day one, seeing as how Chuck was going to be involuntarily moving his head a lot and the fact that he was literally a foot taller than her. Emily moved to sit the test kit down when she noticed Chuck was not alone in the room. Orange Cassidy was on one of the beds, lounging back with his legs stretched out and a video game controller in his hands. Normally she would take people to task for having others in their rooms before getting the test results back. However, she found out pretty early on that these two actually lived together, so she let it slide. His room was next door and she had watched him do a self-swab a few hours earlier. Plus, if she was honest with herself, she was maybe (definitely) crushing on him just a little (a lot).

Emily did not watch wrestling prior to taking the job. Of course she was aware of it, having heard of people like the Rock, The Undertaker and Steve Austin back during the boom of the late 90s. It was just never her thing. But when she found out that she had been offered the position, she spent the 3 weeks before starting to take in as much of AEW as possible. As a former high school theater kid, it didn’t take long for her to understand the appeal. It was when she watched the Casino Battle Royal for Double or Nothing in Vegas that she first saw Orange Cassidy. He was in the ring for all of 60 seconds, barely grazing his foot against another guy before getting thrown out of the ring. She thought nothing of him until she got to All Out, where he made his official debut. He took a dive to the outside, rolled back in the ring and kipped up all while never taking his hands out of his pockets. She was hooked almost immediately without knowing anything about him. As she progressed into those first few months of Dynamite, she started to adore Best Friends along with Orange and her fascination grew into a full on crush. Which was ridiculous seeing as she had never even met the man yet.

Anyone could see that many on the roster at AEW were aesthetically pleasing. Hell, she would need to borrow some fingers and toes just to count them all. Emily remembered her first day on the job and doing a literal double-take when she saw Hangman Adam Page in person. The wrestler had clearly just arrived at the arena, as he was dressed casually in jeans and t-shirt. His curly blond hair was pulled into a small bun and he sported a pair of black rimmed glasses, while pulling a roller suitcase. Clearly the camera was kind to him, but it did not compare to how...pretty he really was. He looked like a fucking Disney Prince. All it took was a small smile and soft “hey” as he passed her on his way to the locker room to have Emily thinking about what song they could dance to at their wedding. She had shaken the intrusive thoughts away and vowed to be a professional, goddamn it. It didn’t take long for her to become (mostly) immune to all the gorgeous faces and hard bodies surrounding her. Once it had, she learned that Adam was already married, a sweetheart and absolutely hilarious. She now thought of him as like a little brother and one of her favorite coworkers.

Not to say that she hated anybody that she worked with, but naturally there were some folks that she clicked with and Hangman was one of them. Once she met Chuck, Trent and Orange she knew that they would eventually be in this category as well. There was some uncertainty initially, as all three men were surprisingly sort of shy and reserved. Emily, however, was very good at putting people at ease so it didn’t take long for the jokes and conversation to become more natural and way less formal even with the growing and (hopefully) inconspicuous crush she had on Orange. Emily was also a natural flirt, so crush be damned, she loved any chance she got to talk to him and the others. Unfortunately, the pandemic started just 10 weeks after she began traveling with the company so any after work socializing was very limited. All that meant was that she had to get her flirting and ribbing in whenever she could.

Like right now for example.

“Well, you look awfully comfy,” she said to Orange. “Whatcha playin?”

“FIFA,” he answered simply without looking away from the TV.

“Fun. What team are you?”

“Arsenal.”

“Wow. Slow down dude. I need to take in this...just absolutely riveting conversation,” Emily said sarcastically.

“Homie’s just pissed because he keeps losing to some 11 year old in Germany,” Chuck laughed.

Emily rolled her eyes and started to pull out the long cotton swabs. “Hey, you’ve got no room to be trying to clown anyone about some kid being better than them. May I remind you that I’ve had kids as young as 8 be able to do their own swabs.”

Orange snickered and Emily felt a swell of pride.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up and let’s get this over with,” Chuck huffed but there was no malice in his tone. He leaned his head back against the wall.

“Wait, you really have to do it for him?” Orange asked. “I thought that was a joke.”

“Oh yeah. There’s not many, but there are some that just can’t do their own. It’s no biggie,” she confirmed, finishing the setup. With one hand, Emily proceeded to start the test, moving very slowly, well aware of what happened every single time she had done this with Chuck. The other hand was placed lightly on his forehead. Sure enough, she had barely gotten into the nostril when Chuck was clearly about to start sneezing. She instantly stopped moving the swab and put more pressure on Chuck’s forehead, forcing his head to remain in the same position. He sneezed 3 times before she started to move the swab again. She could feel his whole body tense up as she got as far as she needed to go.

“Alright. 15 seconds,” she told him. She tightened her hold on his head when another sneezing fight started before the 15 seconds were over. Finally, she quickly pulled the swab back out and put it into the tube.

“Jesus, Dustin,” Orange muttered.

“Fuck off. I can’t help it,” Chuck replied, tears welling in his eyes and sniffling.

Emily, trying to maintain some sense of professionalism, didn’t laugh but couldn’t resist throwing a little fuel on the fire. “Did you know that anytime I have to administer a test to someone, I have to then take ALL of this gear off and put it into a biohazard bin and put clean gear on before seeing the next person?”

“I did not. Wait...are you trying to make me feel bad?”

“Of course not, just stating facts. Ok, you ready for part two?”

The same thing happened with the other nostril and she did her best to keep from laughing. Finally she pulled the second swab out and placed it in the tube. Chuck started another round of sneezes.

“À tes souhaits,” she said, patting him on shoulder. It was something she often said to Chuck after testing.

“What does that mean?” Orange asked.

For a second Emily had forgotten that he was also in the room. She turned to face him, clearing her throat before speaking. “Oh, uh, It’s what the French say after someone sneezes. It means ‘to your wishes’.”

“You speak French?” he asked without looking away from his game.

“Juste un peu,” she answered “Just a little bit. Had it in high school then took 4 semesters of it as my elective in undergrad. Forgot a ton of it once I got into medicine.”

“I know like two phrases I learned from tours in Canada,” Orange remarked.

“Oh? Do share,” Emily prodded.

“Uh... comment allez-vous. Merci beaucoup. Je non parle en francais. Oú sont les toilettes?Oh and je prend le vin rouge.”

“Not bad. But it should have been “Je ne parle pas francais”. And man, how much wine were you drinking to remember that one?” Emily asked with a smile.

“Yo, I thought you just knew that one phrase. I didn’t know you could like, legit speak it. Quit battin’ your lashes at Jim and say something about me,” Chuck demanded.

She faltered. This was the first time Chuck had ever joked about her flirting with Orange.. She scoffed at him and said “You can’t even see my eyes, much less my lashes.”

“Whatever. Come on, say something cool!”

“Ok. Um...,” she started. She took in his appearance and did the mental checklist of grammar in her head. “Tu es un homme grand et beau aux cheveux bruns. Tu es...umm... gentil, drôle et ..uh...avez un sourire fantastique.”

Chuck just smiled. “All I heard was ‘fantastic’ so I’m gonna assume you said something good.”

Emily chuckled. “I said that you were a tall and handsome man with brown hair and that you are nice, funny and have a fantastic smile.”

At that moment, she wished she had been recording that whole interaction. Chuck’s grin softened ever so slightly and he began to blush. A sense of accomplishment and pride washed over her and she looked back over to Orange, who had stopped watching the tv to watch her instead.

“Cool,” he said before turning his attention back to the game.

“Thanks.” She began gathering her small test kit and heading toward the door. “These should be back in the morning. I will text you your results.”

Chuck shot up from the office chair to get the door for her. “Hey...uh...did you really mean that?”

Emily was taken aback. “Well yeah.”

He was blushing even harder now and she felt a little guilty for the lack of equal transparency. See, while she could see him completely, he could not read any of the expressions on her face due to the protective gear. Pinching his cheek was her initial thought but this was the covid-19 era and the whole “touching faces” thing wasn’t really a good idea. So instead she poked him in the belly.

“Don’t get a big ass head over it,” Emily ordered, pointing a finger in his face. “That thing is hard enough to control as it is.”

“Yes ma’am!”

“Good. I’ll talk to you later. You two behave.”

#orange cassidy #orange cassidy smut #orange cassidy fan fiction #orange cassidy fanfiction #orange cassidy fic #aew fanfiction #aew fic #aew fanfic #aew #orange cassidy imagines #orange cassidy imagine #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fan fic #wrestling fic #wrestling fan fiction #orange cassidy x ofc #little red hunk

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seokiie · 5 years ago

Text

𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝙹𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚢 (𝙼)

+ 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵.

+ 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4𝘬+

+ 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨/𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘑𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯/𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘏𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘬/𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘠𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪/𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

+ 𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘷𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘪 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 (𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘴𝘭��𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘰), 𝘱𝘸𝘱, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘴

On AO3

1st time.

Jimin loves to hold you. He always tells you how soft and delicate you feel in his arms after pulling you against his chest in a comfy back hug. Jimin's actions aren't a secret, just as it's not a secret that you're Taehyung's girl. Taehyung knows Jimin the best out of everyone and he knows how clingy he can be. That's just how he's always been, even now.

"Ah, y/n, what are you doing here?" You were currently sitting in the back of BTS' van. You came to watch the boys perform at their award show and figured you'd ride home with them. You really just wanted some alone time with Taehyung after his shortened performance of Singularity.

"I wanted to congratulate you guys and leave but manager-nim insisted I ride along." You watch as all seven men climb into the vehicle, sweaty and still in their stage outfits. Jimin takes the seat right next to you, his body still radiating copious amounts of heat as he's just finished performing. As more members start to squish inside, Jimin progressively pushes you farther and farther into the window.

"Jiminn, you're crushing mee." You whine from your tiny corner of the van. Jungkook, Hoseok, and Namjoon sat in the middle while the rest tried to squeeze into the back with you. It went smoothly more or less until Jin tried to wedge his way back there, too. At this point you didn't even have a seat, half of you was sitting on Jimin's thigh.

"Jin, you can barely fit back here, sit next to Jungkook-ah." Taehyung groans from between jimin and Yoongi. Jin rolls his eyes in response.

"If I could fit next to Jungkook I'd be sitting there already!! Just tell y/n to sit on Jimin's lap or something! She's taking up the whole damn corner!" Jins swinging his arms around and he's speaking so fast you barely catch his words.

"Sit," Jimin commands while patting his thighs and the van falls quiet.

"Is she a dog?" Hoseok pulls a full 180 to look at the men behind him and the rest of the members break into laughter. Jimin is looking up at you expectantly and you spare a glance at Taehyung, who's staring down at his phone. He doesn't seem to care so you plop yourself down on Jimin's thighs and his hands immediately move to your waist, almost as if it was instinct.

Taehyung isn't a jealous person. Not to mention, someone as beautiful as you should be shared with the world. At least, that's what Taehyung thinks. So he tries his best to ignore the face Jimin makes when the van goes over a particularly large bump and you bounce lightly on his lap, and he tries to ignore the way Jimin's fingers dig into your waist.

Taehyung doesn't even realize how tense he is until Jungkook turns around and snaps him out of his thoughts.

"Are you good, Hyung? You look really mad." The maknae's voice is quiet, but it's not like it really matters. Most of the other members have either fallen asleep or have their headphones in.

"Hm? Fine." He tries to play it off like he wasn't scowling at the way Jimin had his hands on you.

"Are you su-" Jungkooks suddenly stops and makes a wide-eyed face of shock and understanding. "You're jealous because of y/n!"

Taehyung tries to quiet Jungkook down by covering his whole face with the palm of his hand.

"Please, be literally any louder." Taehyung mumbles threateningly under his breath. Jungkook giggles through the hand covering his face and makes an 'okay' sign with his own hand.

"She's your girlfriend just tell her to sit on your lap instead." Jungkook settles into a more comfortable position fully facing the older brother behind him.

Taehyung turns only to see Jimin whispering something in your ear. He watches as you turn a familiar shade of red and slap him on the chest.

"We only just started dating. Jealousy is a bad sign." Jungkook follows Tae's eyes to you and Jimin, even raising his own eyebrows at the blatant flirting going on in front of them.

Jungkook shrugs and turns back around.

That was first and definitely the last time Taehyung lets himself be overcome with jealousy.

2nd time.

That was not the last time Taehyung lets himself be overcome with jealousy.

It was a lovely Thursday evening in the dorm. You'd taken the day off from work to spend some quality time with Taehyung. When you arrived, the dorm had the unfamiliar ringing of silence. You hadn't bothered to ask him if any of the other members were home for that reason.

"I was watching a drama in the living room but now that you're here, I want you to try a recipe I've been working on."

"Sure, is it done?" You turn to make your way to the kitchen but you feel his arms wrap around your waist from behind. Before you know it, he's picking you up and carrying you to the living room. You laugh and give him a confused look when he tosses you on the couch.

"It's not done yet, wait for me here, okay?" He ruffles your hair lightly before disappearing into the kitchen. You give him a sound of approval and grab the TV remote, unpausing whatever show he was watching earlier. Your sure he won't mind if you pick up where he left off.

It feels like you're on that couch for hours just staring at the widescreen in front of you. You're about to move onto the next episode of the drama when there's a sudden weight clambering on top of you. At first, you think it's Taehyung but then the mystery person lets out an overdramatic sigh into your ear and they're no longer a mystery.

"Hoseok, what are you doing?" The position is weird but not terribly uncomfortable. You were laying partially on your side facing the TV while Hoseok laid on top of you, playing with your hair.

"How'd you know it was me. I'm so sneaky." He says it with feigned shock in his voice.

"Sneaky? I have to laugh. I thought Taehyung was the only one home." Used to Hoseok's warm and touchy personality, you focus more of your attention on the drama than him.

"Everyones out doing schedules besides Taehyung, Yoongi, and I. Yoongi's been inside all morning, though. Probably sleeping in on his free day." You can feel when Hoseok's body relaxes above you, his nose nuzzling into your neck, somewhere between your nape and collarbone.

Hoseok's body always radiates an amazing warmth and it reminds you why everyone seems to call him sunshine.

The two of you relax on the couch for a while, the smell of Taehyungs cooking emanating throughout the house. You almost feel yourself doze off, your eyes dropping slightly and Hoseok's body acting as a weighted blanket. Your almost-slumber is quickly interrupted by something wet swiping upon your neck.

"Ah, Hoseok, what are you do-ah! " Your brain has barely registered that it was Hoseok's tongue on you when he bites your neck. He didn't bite too hard but just enough to leave a mark. He knew you had a sensitive neck and he was using it to his full advantage.

"It feels like a sin that Taehyung has you all to himself." Hoseok's voice is husky like he's just woken up. To say the gravel in his voice doesn't do something to you would be an enormous lie.

"Suddenly you're- hah, wait-" You turn over on your back, trying to push Hoseok's greedy mouth away from your neck but he doesn't move an inch.

"You know, Tae always brags about how addicting you are, how good you are for him." You let out a groan at that, your hands twisting into the collar of his shirt as his tongue worked over the places he bit.

You've just about given up control when you hear Taehyungs voice call out from the kitchen,

"Y/N-ie! Come eat!" It takes you a few moments to actually catch on to what he said. You blame it on the fact that the man above you is overflowing your senses.

"You heard the man!" Hoseok is immediately off you after registering that the food is ready. You lay on the couch a bit longer, trying to relax the heat between your legs.

"Are you coming?" He's halfway to the kitchen already when he calls out for you.

As you, Hoseok and Taehyung dig into the meal he's worked hard on perfecting for the last few weeks, you give your boyfriend a thumbs up at the delicious food. When he smiles back at you happily, you assume he doesn't notice any marks on your neck from Hoseok's earlier 'playfulness'.

Taehyung figures one day you'll learn not to assume things.

3rd time.

"Can you do me a favor?" You were currently sitting in the kitchen scrolling mindlessly scrolling through your phone when Namjoon makes himself present.

"Sure? What is it?" You mentally give yourself a facepalm. You accepted so quickly knowing that Namjoon's always the one asking for weird things.

"Yoongi's been in his studio all day and you know how he has the tendency to work himself to the bone..." Namjoon raises his eyebrow at you and you finally understand his request.

"Why can't you do it?"

"Yoongi can be... pretty... snarky? Is that the right word?" Namjoon looks to be in thought before continuing. "Yeah. He can be pretty snarky, but at least when he sees your pretty face he won't be as mean."

You roll your eyes at that, taking the glass of water out of his hands and making your way to Yoongi's studio.

It feels dumb, but you stand outside Yoongi's studio for a good two or so minutes. You were treading the lines of anxious and 'why am I even anxious? Yoongi's a sweetheart'.

In a moment of sudden confidence, you knock on his door, the sign reading 'Genius Lab' tapping against the door lightly with the rhythm of your knocks.

The other end is silent before you hear some clattering and then a familiar raspy voice,

"Come in."

You let out a breath of air you didn't know you were holding before twisting the knob and entering the dark room.

"Yoongi?" You look around the room before stepping inside. The room was really, really dark. The only thing you could see was the monitor on Yoongi's desk and the way the screen lit up his face.

"Kinda busy, y/n. Do you need something?" He could've been a lot colder, you know, but you can't help being slightly intimidated. Putting all those thoughts behind you, you walk towards the only light in the room

"You've been inside all day. It's not much but- oh shit-" You probably should've been paying attention to any objects on the floor around you because suddenly you were jerking forward. All you can see before regaining some of your balance and stopping yourself from falling face-first into Yoongi's crotch is a splash of water heading straight for the man in front of you.

"Is this how you say hello where you come from? Go get something to clean up." You can't see much of his lower body because of the lighting but judging by the buoyancy of the glass in your hand you're guessing you did quite a bit of damage.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, Yoongles..." You're not sure where to find a towel considering you've only been to the dorm two other times, so is it really a shock when you pull your sweater sleeves over your hands and use them as a makeshift rag? Kneeling in front of him, you place the slightly empty glass on the floor beside you.

Alternatively, as you're too busy patting and drying the man before you with your sweater paws, you don't notice the way he relaxes at the nickname.

"As long as nothing's damaged it's fine." You can't really see where you're touching but you're way too focused on fixing the mess you've made to pay attention to that. "If you somehow managed to screw up my work, I can't say I'd go easy on you."

At that, you finally look up only to realize he's been staring down at you the whole time. You want to question the dark look in his eyes but you finally get it when he glances to your hand resting on the slight bulge in his sweatpants. You follow his glance and you can feel the way he twitches underneath you when you realize where your hand is. Fuck.

You try to move your hand away quickly, but it seems Yoongi knows your move before even you do. Before you can pull away, Yoongi's hand is wrapped around your wrist holding it in place, his eyes still pinning you down,

"You might want to get going. Someone's here for you." He nods towards the door behind you and when you turn around, the person standing in the light of the hallways is none other than Taehyung himself.

When Yoongi's fingers finally unwrap from your wrist, you're standing up quickly and dashing to your boyfriend.

The last time.

Taehyungs patience was slowly yet surely running out. Matter of fact, He thinks he might be on his last straw right now.

Him, Yoongi, Jimin, Hoseok, and you were relaxing in the living room together that evening. There was a movie playing on the screen before you all but no one was really paying attention. That point was really obvious to you because you could feel Jimin's eyes piercing through the side of your head from the other end of the couch. Hoseok's hands were just as fearless as Jimin's gaze as they held their position on your upper thigh. You consider it all a friendly interaction until Taehyung is getting up from under your blanket with a faint mumble of, 'going to the bathroom'.

As soon as Taehyung is out of the room, the two men are practically jumping at you. Jimin scoots closer to you and Hoseok kicks the blanket covering your legs onto the ground, exposing the way he's been touching you to the other two men. Yoongi lets out a laugh from his side of the couch, one of his hands covering the grin on his face.

"Y/n-ah! Were you letting Hoseokie-Hyung touch you like that while Taehyung was sitting right next to you? Aish, so it's like that?" You can practically taste the smirk in Jimin's tone, and with the way he was talking into your ear, you could feel it too.

"Wait- ah, Taehyung- Taehyung's in the bathroom he'll be back soon. We shouldn't-" Hoseok's hands were getting more daring and it was getting harder for you to think straight. That along with the way Jimin is trailing his fingers up your forearm... It would be a massive lie to say you weren't soaking through your panties. With all the sexual tension growing between you and the three men these past few weeks, you really can't help it if you give in. Just for a second-

"Are you really that much of a slut?" Fuck. You knew that voice. Turning your head to the left you're greeted by exactly who you were expecting.

"Taehyungie!" You stand up immediately at the sight of your boyfriend standing in the doorframe of the living room. You're so focused on being walked in on that you don't see the way the other three men snigger.

Your body feels frozen as you watch Taehyung stomp over to you. You've never seen him this angry and for a second you're worried he might slap you across the face, although he's never done something like that no matter how frustrated you made him.

You flinch when you see him raise his hand, your eyes shut tightly but when you feel him grip your arm, they're snapping open.

"What are you do-"

"I've been letting you off the hook this whole month but it seems you really want a punishment, huh?" The position he suddenly puts you in makes you yelp. It was so fast and all you hear is the clattering of bottles and the bowl of popcorn you were all sharing hit the ground.

He has you bent over the coffee table, your arm twisted behind your back like you were being detained. You let out a quiet whimper when you feel Taehyung press against you from behind.

"Taehyung- ah." The arm behind your back was hurting but the way Taehyung was grinding into you slowly completely distracted you from the pangs of pain traveling up your shoulder.

"Fuck, you like that? You like me touching you in front of the members? Such a slut." His lips are flush against the shell of your ear, his other hand pulling your hair back out of your face. "What should I do with you? Huh? Should I fuck you in front of them? Show them who you really belong to?"

You let out a moan at his words, your hips jutting out when you feel him pull away.

"She's so thirsty for you, Taehyung-ie. I think we riled her up too much." It's Hoseok's voice but you can't see him with the way you're pinned down.

"I can tell. We should do something about that right, y/n?" You can hear Taehyung undoing his belt but if you listen closely his belt isn't the only one being undone.

"Ah, please.." You keen. Somehow the situation managed to turn you on even more.

Taehyung growls from behind you before he's pulling the jeans you wore today down to your ankles. You clench around nothing when he makes a sound of approval at the sight before him.

"God, look at you. You soaked through your panties." He doesn't have your arms pinned behind your back anymore. Instead, both of his hands are spreading you apart, his thumb pushing the laced panties you wore to the side. You didn't even know he was on his knees behind you until you feel his tongue swipe across your dripping cunt.

"Fuck, Taehyung-" You can't help spreading your legs farther apart to give him more access, but his tongue is only pressing against your folds one more time, lapping up every drop of your juices before he's pulling away.

"Look at her, Hyung. Every time she clenches more of her oozes out." Jimin rasped, almost breathless. When you imagine what he could be doing, a wave of pleasure runs through you.

"I know. I wish I could taste her." Its the first time you hear Yoongi's voice and it's so much deeper. It's almost pitiful how you whine at the sound of his gravelly voice but you can't find it in yourself to care.

"Don't you think you're teasing her too much? If I were you I'd have my cock buried so deep in her pussy already. Fuck, just the thought..." You've never heard Hoseok speak so dirtily before. The growl in his voice along with his dialect peeking through really did something to you.

"Don't worry, Hyung. We're almost there." There's a bit of silence and you're wondering what Tae's doing behind you until you feel something hard prodding at your hole. He doesn't slip it in right away. Instead, he rubs himself up and down your folds, using your wetness to lube himself up.

You're not sure how else to communicate how bad you need him in you so you opt to push back against his length. He lets out a growl from somewhere deep in his throat.

"You're so needy. I hope you remember this is a punishment." You don't even get the chance to throw a snarky remark back at him because as soon as the words leave his mouth he's thrusting inside you. Filling you up till his abdomen was pressed flush against your ass.

Usually, sex with Taehyung starts slow. It starts with him easing inside you before his pace quickens. You loved it but suddenly having Taehyung pounding you into the coffee table while his closest friends watched, you figure rough Taehyung isn't too bad.

"Such a good little slut for me. You're so tight, I could never have guessed my innocent girl liked it so hard." You try to find some purchase on the table, your fingers turning white at how hard you're gripping the edge.

One of Taehyung's hands has found its place on your ass, spreading you apart farther so he can thrust even deeper into your wet heat if that was even possible. His other hand travels down to your clit. The way his fingers rub diligently against your sensitive bud makes your eyes roll back and you can't help choking out a breathy moan.

"Ah, Taehyung... I wanna cum so bad!" It's your first intelligible sentence in a while and you can hear Taehyung laugh behind you.

"That's not how you ask, darling. I don't think you've learned your lesson." The expert fingers that were working you towards your peak suddenly disappear, even his pace starts to slow down and you audibly whine.

"Please, Taehyung, I need it. Fuck, keep going." You could hear the pout in your voice but you really didn't care how much you sounded like a kid. He'd pushed you to your brink and then snatched it away. If he wanted you to beg for it, you'd sure as hell do it.

"Keep going? What do I look like letting such a disobedient girl cum?" His thrusts start to pick up again except he's moving terribly slow. His hips are snapping against you hard, just enough to hit that spot in you just right. It's just enough to keep you reeling but not enough for you to finish.

"Hyungs, what do you say? Should I let her cum?" You let out a whine. Your fate was really up to three horny men, part of you knows they'll make you suffer.

"Does she really deserve to cum?" There's so much counterfeit thought in Yoongi's voice

"I don't know about you guys but I really wanna see that pretty face of hers twisted in pleasure." Jimin counters. Hoseok makes a sound of agreement.

"I wanna see everything drip out of her when Taehyung pulls out." You feel your body heat up even more at Hoseok's words. Seriously, was he always this lewd?

"You're lucky today, y/n. But next time you act up, I'm gonna edge you till you see stars." There's so much lust in his voice and his hands move to your waist as his thrusts finally start to hasten. With how hard he's gripping you, you're sure you're gonna have bruises tomorrow morning and not one bit of you minds.

"Tae, I'm so close." You gasp out through a moan. Besides the repeated wet sounds of Taehyung plunging inside you, you can hear his breathing quicken and you know he's close as well.

"You take my cock so good, jagiya. I can't wait to fill you with my cum, shit." Taehyung's thrusts start to become sloppy.

Taehyung bites your neck to suppress his moans but it's exactly that that pushes you over the edge. You can feel yourself tighten around him as you reach your peak and Tae isn't too far behind. He fucks you through your orgasm before coming inside you. You can feel him dripping down your thigh as he pulls out.

"Look at that face, that's exactly what I signed up for." Jimin sighs happily and it's at that moment you remember the other three men in the room. Embarrassment washes over you but you're too tired to do anything about it.

"Maybe one day Taehyungie will let us get a taste, hm?" Yoongi laughs when you cover your face with your hands.

"Hyung, you're embarrassing her. Look how red she is." Taehyung coos as he walks back into the living room. He'd left momentarily to get what you assume is a wet rag. He starts cleaning up the mess you two made.

When you finally sit up, adjusting your now soiled panties and pulling up your jeans, you finally see how wrecked Hoseok, Jimin, and Yoongi are. They looked so disheveled compared to when you saw them a few minutes ago and you felt a pang of pride at that.

You did this to them.

Taehyung helped but still, you did this. Hopefully, this isn't the last time, you think to yourself.

When you look up at Tae, finally out of thought, he looks down at you, a smirk on his face.

"This definitely won't be the last time."

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

[I do not allow any translating, editing, reposting, or use of any my work!!]

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

Text

Adoption (part 2)

A gift for @a-flower-lover! This wound up being more along the lines of vignettes... Little snapshots into Danny’s life after being adopted by Clockwork. I hope that’s ok! (PART 1)

Mr. Lancer had met Charles Worth before, albeit briefly. The man had fostered a number of Casper High students and with that responsibility came parent-teacher conferences. He had struck Mr. Lancer as being steady and reliable, if, perhaps, impersonal, despite his predilection for clocks and ominous announcements. A decent foster parent, if not... ideal.

Mr. Worth just didn't seem to connect with his fosters, although he certainly didn't neglect them. Then, too, were the persistent rumors that his home was haunted.

Alright. So, Mr. Lancer didn't think Charles Worth was really a children person. Oh, he was a good person! It took one to do well as a foster parent, but... yeah.

Which was why the scene in front of him surprised him so much. Not the who of it, but the what.

The who was Daniel Fenton and Charles Worth waiting outside the office. The what was smiling and having a conversation. True, Mr. Fenton's smile looked like it was pasted on over several layers of anxiety, but it was genuine.

"Mr. Worth, Mr. Fenton?" he said, tamping down his surprise. "Come on in."

"Hi," said Mr. Fenton, his voice hoarse.

Mr. Worth smiled and nodded, pushing him up with his cane.

But Mr. Fenton must have noticed the curious look Mr. Lancer was giving him. "I knew Cl- Uh. Mr. Worth before this." He winced and smiled widely to cover it up. "So, uh, make up work? Since I missed the past week?"

"Yes, well, circumstances being what they are," aka his parents trying to murder him in public, in broad daylight (and didn't that give Mr. Lancer a chill?), "your teachers have put together a few packets for you to look over this weekend. They should get you more or less up to speed with where your classes are. I'm also willing to stay after school, to help you with anything you've missed in my classes."

Jazz knocked on the door of the Worth house. She had been made aware, via various supernatural (she did not particularly appreciate writing suddenly appearing on her fogged-up bathroom mirror) and mundane (Danny did have her phone number) means, that the man known as Charles Worth was actually the ghost known as Clockwork.

How this had occurred was not entirely clear to her. She assumed ghost powers, specifically time travel, were involved somehow.

But, to be honest, that didn't really matter to her. It was secondary, less than.

What was important here was that she hadn't been legally allowed to see her little brother in over a month. To keep her parents from contacting him. To keep her from letting her parents near him. Because they were legally barred from seeing him.

Because they had tried to kill him.

Jazz planned on never seeing her parents again, as soon as she got all of her and Danny's things from their house.

But now that prohibition had been lifted, because Clockwork had forced through what had to be the speediest adoption in the history of adoptions, and Danny was now legally his son. In the eyes of both humans and ghosts. Which was... Well. Danny seemed to be excited about it, anyway. He'd looked up to Clockwork for a while, from what he told Jazz.

Internally, Jazz had more than a bit of trepidation. She didn't know what adoption meant to ghosts, didn't have any context for it. And ghosts, even the good ones, even Danny, tended to be... obsessive. Extreme. She wasn't sure how that would translate when it came to interpersonal relationships.

The door creaked open, ever so slowly, the squeak it made grating on her eardrums. At first, it appeared to have opened on its own, then a hand gripped the edge of the door, and Clockwork, in human guise, leaned out from behind it.

Jazz raised an eyebrow.

Clockwork raised one right back. "This house is haunted, you know," he said.

Okay, never mind. The only thing she had to worry about was the fact that her brother and his mentor both had terrible senses of humor.

"Hi, Jazz!"

Being used to having a half-ghost brother, Jazz only yelped a little bit at his unexpected appearance behind her. Then she sighed and ruffled his hair. He hugged her and then bounced over the lintel into the house.

"Come on! I want to show you my room! It's so cool!" His voice became fainter as he went farther into the house, until his last exclamation was an eerie whisper.

Jazz looked at Clockwork as she stepped inside. "Is he doing that on purpose?"

Clockwork smiled blandly. "I am very fond of the acoustics in this house."

She looked at her surroundings with a skeptical eye. "It seems... dark in here."

"We are ghosts," said Clockwork. "Daniel is very excited to show you his room, by the way."

"He's human, too, don't forget," said Jazz.

"I won't."

The house was creepy.

Really creepy.

This was coming from someone who had spent most of her life living under the same roof as two ghost-obsessed mad scientists.

But Danny seemed to enjoy it, and he was the one living here. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with the house. Or anything in the house. It was just... off.

Danny was half-ghost, however, so maybe this was something he needed. Perhaps not all of his peppiness could be attributed to being the heck away from his murderous former parents.

Even so. Jazz had a duty, both as a big sister and an aspiring psychologist.

"I already read it," said Clockwork, setting a cup of tea down in front of her.

"What?"

"The book you were about to give me. I've already read it. And a number of others. I am not the kind of person who goes into things unprepared."

Danny rolled into the kitchen on the ceiling. This was easy to ignore. After her life, an Exorcist reference made by her over-excited younger brother, was, well. Underwhelming.

(Okay, she was a little distracted, but only by his glee.)

"Well," she said. "That's good."

"I know this house is out of the way," said Clockwork, craning his neck to look up at his coworker, "but you are rather conspicuous."

"Hm. Am I?" asked Pandora, craning her neck down to look at her comparatively tiny colleague.

"Yes. At that size, humans with average eyesight will be able to see you from town."

Pandora looked out over the trees. "Interesting," she said, mildly. "Do you think the ghost hunters will come?"

"You've spoken to Daniel."

"Yes. He stopped by earlier today, on his way to visit Mattingly. Although, I suppose you knew that already."

"Indeed I did. May I ask, is it your intention to lure the ghost hunters here, fight them, defeat them, and then leave them just close enough to here to constitute a breach of their terms of bail and the restraining order against them?"

"I am not terribly well-versed in human law," said Pandora, "but, why, yes. That is exactly what I'm doing. Best to get it done while Daniel is visiting friends, isn't it?"

"Yes. If you had done this while he was here, I would be significantly more annoyed." Clockwork smiled the sanguine smile of a parental figure who would commit murder if their child was upset.

Pandora returned a matching grin, one that promised retribution against persons who had harmed said child in the past. "Please, Clockwork. You know me better than that. I wouldn't subject him to being in the presence of those fools."

"Good," said Clockwork, eyes glinting.

"Hey, Clockwork? Do you know why there were police cars driving down the- Oh. Hello?" He stopped at the sight of an unfamiliar woman sitting at the dinning room table, next to Clockwork. He blinked and tilted his head to the side. "Wait. Pandora?"

"Perceptive," said the superficially human olive-skinned woman. "You seemed so happy when you stopped by, earlier. I thought I would come check in on you."

"You didn't have to," said Danny, beaming.

"Pandora has been trying to convince me to set her up as one of my relatives," said Clockwork, rolling his eyes. "Would you care for a cup of tea, Daniel?"

"Umm," said Danny, dubiously. "I'll try one, I guess. Does that mean you'll be my aunt?"

Pandora smiled. "Why, yes, it does."

Clockwork groaned theatrically.

"Ah," said Mr. Lancer, at the next parent-teacher conference. "Are you Mr. Worth's wife?"

"No," said Pandora, grinning. "I'm his sister."

Mr. Lancer looked back and forth between the two very different-looking entities. "I... see."

"We're adopted," said Clockwork.

"Oh! Alright then. Now, about Daniel..."

It was a bit strange to see Danny with so much energy, Sam reflected. Strange, but good.

It just went to show how drained he had become over time, how much the constant ghost attacks and worry, all the lies and stress and impossible expectations had worn away at him over time. She hadn't seen her friend this happy since freshman year. If that.

On the other hand...

"Dude," said Tucker. "Your house is spooky. And this is coming from someone who's been inside a literal mad science lab."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Mad science labs are campy, not spooky. Besides, you knew coming in that this house was haunted." He draped himself over the back of the couch, rolling until he was 'sitting' upside-down. "Anyway, what kind of movie do you want to watch? We've got a bunch, because Clockwork apparently collects media from doomed timelines."

"He's got a hobby?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, three," said Danny. "Gardening- you should talk to him about that, by the way, I think he'd like it- baking, and alternate timeline movies. And some books, too, I think. He's got a huge library back in Long Now. I've read like. Two books from it."

Clockwork's voice floated in from the other room. "You've read significantly more than that, Daniel."

"I guess," said Danny, doubtfully. He flopped off the couch, picked himself up, and started prodding at a shelf of movies. "This is from a timeline where the Earth got beaned by a massive asteroid. It's, like, a romcom, but it was made when everyone knew the asteroid was coming. This one is, uh, this is actually a dramatization of real events, apparently, but their timeline split from ours in like the fifties, so the events are pretty wild." He waved the DVD at them. "It's surreal?"

"How'd they die?" asked Tucker.

"Wacky superscience. No, really. Irradiated the entire planet."

"How do you know?" asked Sam.

"Oh, Clockwork puts notes on the boxes. He thinks it's interesting. And there does seem to be some correlation between how cursed the movies are and how bad the timeline was. Which maybe shouldn't surprise me? I mean, if they were bad timelines..." He shrugged. "Oh, this is a CGI Lion King. I can tell you: very cursed. Absolutely soulless. And this is from a timeline where copyright laws weren't changed, so Mickey Mouse and a bunch of other stuff was in the public domain."

"Isn't that a good timeline?" joked Sam.

"You'd think so," agreed Danny. "But apartheid in South Africa apparently never stopped, and they got a nuclear bomb, and, well... World War Three."

"Is that like, a domino effect, or...?"

"I'm not sure... Anyway. Uh. Genre?" He clapped his hands together.

Tucker leaned forward. "I want the wildest version of the Matrix you have."

"Ooh, good choice. There are, like, six with Will Smith. I haven't watched them all yet, but I think the one where they've got another sequel and Zion is also a- Wait, I shouldn't spoil it."

"After that, can you see if there's a non-crappy version of Dracula?" asked Sam.

"Sure. I haven't seen one yet, but I will look."

"I have popcorn," said Clockwork, entering the room, "and various baked goods. No dairy."

"You're the best."

Clockwork selected a thick blanket from the chest, then teleported himself to the living room to drape it over the three teenagers passed out on the couch. Overall, he found pretending to be human oddly enjoyable, but it could be trying at times. Tedious. All the finicky little motions humans had to go through to do the simplest of things added up over the day.

So, Clockwork tended to ease off of them when no one was watching. It made life easier.

Heh. Life.

(He would say that Daniel's puns were rubbing off on him, but in truth Clockwork's sense of humor had been like that for, well. Eons.)

He put the kitchen in order with an absent wave of his hand, and double-checked the stove out of habit. It wasn't nearly as good as his actual oven, back in Long Now, but it was serviceable.

One of Daniel's friends mumbled in their sleep, and Clockwork looked in on them. Still peaceful. It was good for Daniel to have them here. Beneficial for both his human and ghost halves.

He hummed to himself and patted Daniel's head as he thought about their plans for the weekend. He had arranged for some truly aggravating evangelical missionaries to darken their doorstep. It would do Daniel good to inspire a touch of terror. In an entirely controlled and risk-free way, of course. No matter how unpleasant the people coming were, Clockwork had no intention of harming them, or suggesting anything of the sort.

But, well. They were ghosts. Being feared was soothing.

(Clockwork knew this wasn't what Jasmine meant when she suggested Clockwork engage in family bonding activities with Daniel. But what she didn't know...)

"I think my teeth are getting sharper," said Danny, pulling a face at the mirror. "Is that normal?" The last was shouted, to get Clockwork's attention. Intellectually, Danny knew he didn't need to do that, but a lifetime of habit was hard to shake.

"It is difficult to say what is normal for someone like you, but many ghosts do have fangs," said Clockwork. "Including myself."

"Hm," said Danny. "This isn't, like, a ghost puberty thing, is it? Because I already used up most of my evil puberty jokes."

"Oh, only most?" Clockwork slid behind him and started rubbing the tension out of his shoulders.

Danny shrugged. "Eh, give or take. But, seriously."

"No, it isn't a ghost puberty thing."

"Oh, good. Because dealing with one puberty is more than enough."

Clockwork was silent. Danny looked up and met troubled eyes in the mirror.

"Clockwork?"

"Daniel," started Clockwork, before giving Danny an uneasy smile. "Speaking of puberty..."

Danny blanched. "No."

"What?"

"No. Nope. Not doing the talk today, no sir. I got that at school."

"Daniel, as strange as Casper High may be at times, I highly doubt they taught you anything about immortality."

"What."

"It's why ghosts put so much forethought into relationships like this," explained Clockwork, careful not to look directly at Daniel's hiding place. "They might last forever. I certainly hope this one does."

"But I don't want to be a teenager forever!" wailed Danny. He had mastered the art of making his voice sound like it was coming from a completely different direction than it actually was.

Clockwork was older than human civilization and had been worshiped as a god by several civilizations. He did not wince at the heartbreak in his child's voice.

"Your shapeshifting abilities should come in after a few years," said Clockwork. "You'll be able to pass as older."

Daniel answered with a moan.

"I must confess, I'm not sure why you are so upset about this. I can see that you are, but could you explain why for me?"

"I don't knoooooowww..."

"I don't want everyone to die and leave me alone," admitted Danny, hunched over a carton of ice cream. "I don't want to see my- my people die." He sniffled.

"We don't have to stay in Amity Park if you don't want to," said Clockwork.

Danny shook his head. "No! That's worse," he said, hating how his voice tilted into a whine. "That's- I can't abandon them! I can't- can't miss their time. I just..." He let out a huff of air. "It's hard."

Clockwork wrapped an arm around Daniel's shoulders. "It may not help much," he said, "but people in Amity Park have a much higher chance of becoming ghosts. It's the ectoplasm in the air."

"Promise?" asked Danny.

"Promise. Although, who, exactly, becomes a ghost is outside of my control. All I can tell you is that the people here have a better chance."

Danny leaned against Clockwork. "Thanks," he mumbled. "Clockwork?"

"Yes?"

"You don't think I'm a freak, do you?"

"Of course not."

Mr. Lancer squinted down at Daniel Fenton's latest assignment with a mix of appreciation, disbelief, and shame. This was easily the best work he had ever received from Daniel. In fact, it rivaled papers he had received from Jasmine.

It made him wonder- How long had Daniel been suffering? What had Daniel been suffering? He was no expert when it came to abuse, but all teachers had some training, and he knew that abusers tended to escalate, starting with something relatively innocuous and ending with a travesty. For things to progress to attempted murder... What had it started as? When had it begun?

(Could Mr. Lancer have stopped it?)

(That question would haunt him more than any ghost.)

Well, there was a silver lining to this, Mr. Lancer supposed. He had rarely seen two people who got along as well as Daniel and Charles Worth. It was good, he thought, for the man to have someone in his life on a more permanent basis, rather than the revolving door of temporary foster children.

How rapidly the adoption went through was a little odd, but... Mr. Lancer shrugged. Undoubtedly, Mr. Worth had taken the time over his years as a foster parent to familiarize himself with the system, and with Daniel's former parents unfit to be anywhere near children...

He shrugged again and stamped Daniel's paper with an A+.

#danny phantom #gift #prize #winner #fic #phanfiction

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hoenursey · 4 years ago

Text

here it is, y’all, the nurseydex theatre kid au i never finished (and probably won’t ever). if any of y’all remember, this was going to be the othello au lol !! whoops.

_X_

God hated him, obviously. That much was apparent. God hated him or did not exist, because no loving god would do this to him. No loving god would have him, fingers wrapped delicately and squeezing ever so slightly at one (1) William J. Poindexter’s slim neck, and no loving god would force him to have his blocking so that he needed a knee wedged between Will’s thighs and his other hand pinning his wrist to the bed, and there was absolutely, positively no loving god that would have Will gazing up at him, pupils blown wide as a half erection tented the silk nightgown he was in, in the middle of Samwell College’s black box theatre.

There was just no way in hell, Derek reasoned, as Will swallowed and he felt the bob of his throat run down, down, down the center of his palm. A loving god would open up the floor and fucking eat him, just let him die right then and there.

“Will, you should be thrashing!” Monetta yelled, and Derek flinched, then forced himself to relax and slowly pulled back.

It happened like this.

“We have no backup for Desdemona,” Monetta spat. “Who fucking– who changes their major now? Who drops a class in the middle of the fucking semester? Can you even do that?” She whirled around, eyes wild, and Derek backed up slightly. Monet could be kind of… wild, sometimes, when she got going.

“Uh–”

“It’s rhetorical!”

Everyone in the theatre flinched.

“I need a backup. I need one now. I don’t care if it’s a fucking dog. If the dog can act, I don’t give a shit. I just need a fucking actor. Find someone who’s got chemistry with Derek and I will fucking kiss you.”

“I’d prefer it not be a dog,” he said hesitantly, and Monetta turned her head in his direction. Only her head, and a single, mad-looking eye focused on him.

“But you know what? I, uh. Can work with that. A dog, I mean. Anything. The show must go on.”

Monetta’s head turned back, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“Hey, what about Will?”

Nevermind, he thought to himself bitterly. He turned a flat look on Chris, who was smiling cheerfully, as usual, a wrench in his hand.

“Who?” Monetta asked. Her brow was creased, the script she’d been waving still dangling from her long fingers.

“He–” Derek tried to say, but then Monetta threw the script at him as Chris said, “He’s the one who’s been helping Larissa with sets! Me, Will, and Derek had our freshman humanities course together!”

“What does he look like?”

“Red hair, freckle-y,” Mandy called from the rafters.

“Mega freckle-y,” Jenny confirmed. “And he’s, like, p good at acting. He’s got a great voice, loud and, like, strong and stuff? Super pale, kind of angry just like as a person. He’s a little awkward but like once you get him comfortable it’s fine. We had 1302 together; actually, it was Othello, so he already knows the lines! He’s super rad!”

Monetta turned to him, and he gave her an uncomfortable look. “Please tell me you can work with him. Derek. Please. We really, really, really don’t have time to do another open casting call, and frankly all the non-actors in here suck. Please. We have three. months. Tell me you don’t have any problems with him.”

“He’s an asshole,” Derek grumbled. “A rude asshole who thinks i'm irresponsible and laughs at me when I fall–”

“But can you work with him on stage?”

Derek sighed softly as Monetta turned the closest thing she had to puppy dog eyes on him.

“You’re helping with my calc work,” he said tiredly, and she beamed at him. “Call him up, Chris. See if we can get him here by tomorrow.”

It happened like this: Monetta took one look at William Poindexter and fell in love with him. He monologued for her and she looked ready to propose. They found a costume (after damn near an hour of sizing and shaping and pinning and honestly, his ass was just unfair) and she had their children’s names picked out.

“Thank you so much for this. I’m so sorry we had to call you in so late, and this is so–”

“It’s, um, not a problem?” he said, almost a question, smile curving his pink lips, because of course he had an uncomfortably endearing smile.

“Monetta, one problem,” Caitlin Farmer said muffledly. They looked down at her where she was hemming the bottoms of Will’s pants, a few pins tucked between her lips.

“Yes, Caitlin?” Monetta asked, voice tense. Caitlin pulled the pins from her mouth and handed them to Derek, saying lightly, “Hold these, please?”

“Uh, we don’t have any period clothes for this. The sleep scene, where Othello kills Desdemona? We only have women’s robes and gowns, and I know costuming gets cumulative grades on like accuracy. It won’t be so bad if the rest of the costuming is good, but we’re hella underprepared and I know they don’t want to make an entire new outfit this late in the show.”

“What do you have?” Will asked. Monetta, Caitlin, and Derek all looked at him, surprised– he hadn’t really said much outside of a few words confirming or agreeing with whatever they said.

“Just… silk nightgowns. That’s it. The little strappy shift ones? You probably don’t want to wear those, i’m sorry–”

“It’s-- uh, don't worry about it,” he interrupted gently. “A few weeks in a shift dress isn’t going to kill me. Besides, i’m already gay and, uh, sort of out, so like, what's the worst they can say to me?” Derek’s brain went blank. Will was gay? Will was gay? Was he single? Why did he care?

“Derek!”

“Sorry, what?” he asked, blinking at Monetta.

“I said, go get ready for practice. We’ve gotta get your blocking down.”

“O-okay,” he managed.

“And I want you and Will to practice outside of this period! Go hang out, get dinner in the dining hall together! You’re supposed to be married, okay?”

Shit. Fucking shit fuck shit– “Okay, Monetta. Dinner, dining hall, practice. I’ve got it. I can hear perfectly clearly.”

“But does your brain work? I doubt you sometimes.”

It happened like this: they started having dinner together, and then lunch together, and then breakfast, and then Derek was sitting with the engineering majors and Will was sitting with the poetry kids and they were both sitting with the theatre kids. It happened like this: they bickered, and Derek flirted, and Will snarked, and they practiced until they were dead on their feet.

It happened like this: they hadn’t practiced kissing by themselves, just line work, because they didn’t really have the space to do blocking anyways. Or that was what he told himself, anyways, because he kept thinking about how much he wanted to, and he poured over the kissing scenes in private: how he’d kiss him, how delicately or firmly it would be done, and how most of all there wouldn’t be much more effort to pretend that he was madly in love with him, because of course he had to fall in love with anyone who smiled at him.

It happened like this: Monetta needed them to practice the kissing scenes in rehearsal.

“You’re both single, right?” she asked idly as she checked over the set backgrounds, Derek scanning over his blocking notecards from on top of one of their desks.

“Huh?”

“You and Will. Single?”

“Well... I am,” Derek said slowly. “But I wouldn't know about Poindexter. He's never mentioned a partner though, and it doesn't seem like his style to not, like, say anything. Want me to ask?”

“Sorry, I had to drop off some supplies to the culinary lab,” Will called, the door slamming behind him, and they turned to look at him.

“Will,” Monetta hedged, “You’re single, right?”

He paused, looking at her curiously, then nodded a little jerkily, shrugging off his bag and jacket. Nursey tried not to stare at the way his shoulders filled out the tight red “Samwell Computing” shirt (gay, gay, gay, his brain was chanting, gay, gay, stop thinking about how broad his shoulders are, gay). “Far as I know.”

“Great,” Monetta said, relieved. “Sorry, just… last time, we accidentally caused a few breakups? And chairs got thrown. I really don't wanna see that happen again.”

Will chuckled softly, flexing his wrists a little and then pushing up onto the stage with his hands, rolling into a standing position neatly. Derek was dying. “Well, no angry, uh, boyfriends here. Or girlfriends.”

“Fantastic,” she murmured. “I’d hate for you to have a chair thrown at your head, we really don’t have the time to find another Desdemona.”

“You know you’re supposed to care about other people’s well-being, right?” Jenny called down from above the stage, where she was fixing up some of the lighting that had fallen earlier. Mandy nodded in agreement.

Monetta took a moment to consider it, face thoughtful, and then shrugged, pivoting on her foot and walking away from Will and Derek.

“No time for that either! Everyone get dressed, we’ve got a lot of work to do today and some people still aren’t off book.”

“It’s literally just act two,” Connor said irritably from the fourth row, though he still stood to move backstage. “That’s it. Excuse me for not memorizing every single one of Iago’s stupid little asides--”

March smacked him on the back of the head and he yelped, indignant. “What was that for?”

“You don’t have to get insulted four times a week for a month, Wisnewski,” she grumbled, “So can it.”

#nurseydex #choking mention #my fic #fanfic: mine #my writing #nursey #derek nurse #dex #william poindexter #theatre au

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fukurodaze · 4 years ago

Text

if i ever get lost

pairing/s: third year!haiba lev x gn!reader genre: fluff, romantic tension aka best and softest tension word count: 3.2k warnings: like, one curse word this was also requested by anon! “3rd year Lev w a reader who’s struggling to pass all their homeworks, projects and quizzes (bc they piled up their works ;;) while thinking of how should they study for college/uni entrance exams?”

special thanks to nat @natszoo and ellie @lcnelyinthesky for beta reading and helping me w this!!

LISTEN TO: somebody loves you - jeremy zucker; glitter - benee

lowercase intended!

you throw your head back when you forget the term written on the flip side of the flash card haiba lev is holding. it’s a friday night, far past anyone’s bedtimes, but final exams for the first semester start on monday and you’re not sure where to start. haiba lev, being the person who has nothing better to do, agreed to come over and flip cards with random kanji, english, and biology terms on it.

lev might also be here because it’s an open secret that he’s liked you since first year, and you’ve never answered to his feelings, but you’re thinking friends for now - until you memorise all of this semester’s kanji, english vocabulary, and biology terms, that is.

“the phospholipid bilayer is made up of...”

lev gives you time to think, his wide eyes going between the answer on the card and your thinking face.

“shit, uh, the phospholipid bilayer is made up of two layers of phospholipids?”

“makes sense, but no.” lev answers, flipping the card to show you.

“the phospholipid bilayer is made up of a polar, hydrophilic area containing a phosphate group bound to glycerol, and a non-polar, lipophilic area containing fatty acids...” you read aloud, trying to memorise what’s currently going out your mouth, in one ear, and out again through another ear.

“you know, your flash cards are pretty comprehensive.”

you raise an eyebrow, “is that... a good thing?”

“i mean, yes and no,” he takes another sip of the tea your mom had insisted to bring to guests, “it’s harder to memorise, but it’s better for details. but-”

“but?” you watch as he takes another sip.

“i think if you really don’t know where to go, just understand the basic concept of everything. for one - what is the function of the bilayer?”

“why do you sound smart?” you question, tilting your head jokingly.

“hey! i am smart! most times! with tests like these that have essay questions, you just gotta learn the basic concept of each term and connect them.” lev advices, recounting his former volleyball captain and nekoma high school alumni, kuroo tetsuro’s, words when lev himself was barely scraping past his first semester finals when he’d just transferred.

“easier said than done in two nights,” you slouch your head on your desk, “plus! it’s not just biology. or exams.”

if memorising all these terms in the span of two days sounds bad enough, you’re still crushed with the supplementary course work and projects due next week as well.

you let out a deep groan. you’re so tired. it’s like biology information only comes up when you’re studying for english, biology only coming up for modern literature, and mathematics somehow being inserted into the little unknown kanji in modern literature. it’s all too much at once.

“it’s all too much at once, huh?” lev places his head on your desk, only a few inches away from your face. normally, you’d push him away, pull your head back up, or maybe even give him a light slap on a bad day, but today you welcome him.

you nod, quiet. you haven’t been able to get a breather. it’s essay this, quiz that, lab report here, test there. your mind is blank.

now, lev sits back up on the extra chair from your dining room, “have you eaten dinner?”

“why are you asking... it’s like, midnight.”

“the question still stands.”

you sigh, “nope.”

lev hums. he takes a pen, then twirls it, like his fingers possessed polar magnets that somehow let the pens never fall from his hands. but it does eventually, and when it falls with a plastic click on your wooden desk, lev visibly takes a big breath and says, “do you want to get ramen?”

you exhale through your nose and smile. “are you asking me out, haiba?”

“is it inappropriate to ask you out now?”

damn this tall dork. come to think of it, he’s never actually asked you out despite the obvious ways he’d vouch for your attention in the past. you’re quite surprised, frankly, as he’s always been so loud in the ways he’s wanted to be with you but never really made it seem like anything was going to happen.

but, hey, it’s late enough for you to put down your doubts about him away. after all, he’s been in your room for four hours, just helping you study. he wasn’t even studying himself - he just sat there, doing almost nothing. and for a guy like him, you wonder how he’s managed to keep there for so long.

“sure.”

lev’s eyes widen. “wait, really?”

“yeah,” you begin to set aside all your study materials, “we can go to a twenty-four hour place in the city, too.”

“alright! let me get you your coat!”

“my coat?” you raise an eyebrow when he hands you the coat you wear the most, feeling both flattered and slightly surprised that he recognises it straight away from your messy room. the boy comes to retreat his coat as well from one of the hangers in your room, and he even offers to get you your socks and boots.

“alright, alright, you don’t have to be that ready to go,” you joke.

he makes sure there is no noise when you two walk out of your house, through the suburbs of tokyo and to the nearest train to the city.

“aren’t you two a bit young to be here so late?” the shopkeeper, an old lady, mutters under her breath. you catch it through her croaky voice when you and lev enter the place together, but you pay no attention because all you care to focus on is the smell of broth and your empty stomach.

“for two, please,” lev says, undoubtedly hearing the woman’s remark, but answering with a smile. she smiles too, and so do you, and it makes you remember all the times he’s smiled and you’ve wanted to either punch him or hold his hand.

today just happens to be one of those days where you want to hold his hand. you shake the thought off.

when you two are seated at the ramen bar, your head falls onto your palm, tilting back to face lev, his chin covered partly by his usual maroon scarf. you had whispered to him earlier on the train what you wanted to order, and lev quickly speaks to the waiter as your tired gaze rises from from the squiggly wooden patterns embedded in the polished wooden table to the boy that’s sitting right next to you.

at first glance, you remember haiba lev’s face to be satisfying to look at. you remember when he had just transferred to your class in the first year, and you developed the annoying habit of looking forty-five degrees to the right every time you were bored in class, as you thought his face was much easier on the eyes than complex quadratic equations or japanese history.

for a while you wondered if it was because he certainly looked different - not only was he practically a giant, but he had eurocentric features that stood out from the majority of the student body as well (it also didn’t help that he quite literally and figuratively filled any room he was in). though, maybe, after a while, when everyone got used to the sight of a new face, you kept your line of sight at a forty-five degree angle, just peering above his cheekbones. the same way you’re looking at him right now.

and really, the only word for it is handsome. dashing. good-looking. you’ve always known that, but now that you put it into words in your head, you notice the chiseled jaw, pointed nose and emerald green eyes feel a bit more-

“what you staring at?” his baritone voice cuts through your thoughts cleanly.

you don’t like where this conversation will go. “haiba, are you doing any college entrance exams?”

lev cocks his head to one side, thinking, before nodding, “i think i am. why?”

“how are you studying for them?”

lev clicks his tongue, and it brings you to surprise, “get your mind away from studying! we’re not here in the city at, like, one in the morning to talk about college entrance exams!”

you sigh, “okay, fine. but, still, answer my question?”

“i just do practice problems for twenty minutes every day,” lev shrugs, “okay, now, can we move away from studying?”

you hum lazily, watching as two bowls of ramen arrive at the bar. he had ordered what you told him you wanted to order, both bowls almost identical in smell, shape, size, and content. almost, because lev didn’t have any spring onions in his bowl.

“haiba,” you call, earning a quick call of your name in response, “do you not like spring onions?”

lev nods so obviously that he seems proud. his chopsticks mix the entire bowl together before picking up the half-boiled egg and eating the slice whole. when he swallows it down, he asks you, “you noticed.”

“i mean, yeah,” you reply, “why do you not like them? they’re like, essential.”

lev takes a slurp of his noodles, and then a spoonful of the broth, “i just never liked their texture - which is funny, since my entire family loves adding spring onions.”

now it’s your turn to slurp into your ramen, one bite turning into two, and two turning into the entire content of the bowl. lev seems to eat twice as fast, seemingly having a strategy to cooling down the hot noodles on his spoon while simultaneously folding a piece of pork charsiu in between the loops of each spoonful of noodles, making sure that the little wrap is bathed in a little bit of broth. you find yourself smiling at his act, almost like he has a system of his own when it came to eating ramen - well, he usually had a system of his own when doing just about anything.

the meal is quiet for the most part, with little mumbles of how your tea needs a refill and the ruffling sounds between sheets of tissue to wipe off the broth around your lips. it’s fulfilling, and the look on lev’s face says he’s happy too.

when you two make it out of the ramen bar, 1am feels the same as 9pm. somehow, you’re no longer the kind of sleepy you were when you were flipping through flashcards on your desk, and instead, you’re almost dreading to go home. you think it might also be the neon lights, but there’s some kind of electricity you’re not yet willing to let rest for the night.

luckily, lev doesn’t feel the need to rush. although his steps are big and his voice is loud, he takes his time when you two make the silent agreement to make the walk to the train station as long-winded as possible. his voice is lower, and softer, this time, and when he speaks to you about his friends from his old school, you convince yourself it’s the most interesting topic in the world - because it is. because it’s lev.

when he stops in his tracks, you stop too, watching him go into a small trinket shop you’ve always seen but never had the means to afford to go in. you reckon you might own something from this store, though.

“haiba, you like little trinkets?” your eyes scroll through the shelves of delicate and virtually useless items, eyes landing on a small lion cub made of clear resin with a small blob of gold floating in the middle of its clear body. you’re not usually drawn to any animal trinkets, as you’ve gotten used to decorative objects like bows or feathers or lace, but today you think about the lion cub. despite it looking severely overpriced, you take it in your hand anyway, not noticing lev’s figure coming right behind you.

“do you want that one?” you yelp in surprise when he says that, turning around to find yourself so close to him you could smell the dried raindrops on his padded coat.

“i’m pretty sure it’s overpriced. trinkets are usually overpriced anyways.”

“wait, let me check it,” you hand lev the trinket, “how much is your keychain?”

you furrow your eyebrows, “what?”

“you know, the keychain on the bag you bring to school.”

“oh,” you try to remember the time you had saved up for that keychain, “i think it was about three thousand yen? it’s overpriced. definitely.”

“well, this one’s only two thousand and five hundred. i’ll get it for you.”

“wha- lev!” you whine, “you’re going to make me feel bad- wait what’s wrong?” you see the boy freeze up in front of you, a big smile creeping onto his cheeky face.

he doesn’t reply for a bit, and you’re faced with raised cheekbones and a wide mouth. you try again, “was it something i did? or said?”

“you called me lev,” oh, you did.

now his smile spreads from ear to ear, and it’s spreading to you. “you never call me lev.”

“huh, well.” you bite the inside of your mouth, “i guess now i do.”

it’s enough for you to let him spend over two thousand yen on a single trinket. you watch as he waits for the trinket to be wrapped neatly in pretty paper and put in a pink cardboard bag, its motif pretty enough to be its own product in the store.

you stand by the doorframe of the store, mouth ready to open with the words ‘i’ll pay you back’. but it seems like lev had heard you from the future, and before you could do anything, he tells you, “don’t pay me back. this is my gift to you.”

“for exams?”

he grins. “you know, lev means lion in russian.”

the bell of the store rings as you two make your way out, this time really going back to the station. you answer with a ‘really?’ at his fun fact but you keep it to yourself that you’ve known ever since he first transferred and everyone had asked him about it.

“yeah, and the thing’s a lion cub, so, it’s like you have me all the time!”

you giggle, walking up the steps to the train platform. “you’re really something, lev.”

lev stretches his arms out, with long limbs you swear ghost your shoulder. you get that feeling again, in your hands, where you just can’t seem to understand why you want to take his hand in yours so bad, so you ask the boy if you can hold onto the bag with your trinket. lev passes it to you, and you hate how you would’ve liked for your thumb to graze over his thumb for longer. you hate it even more when he motions you onto the train, and in a blur, you take his arm, leading him to corner seats on the train. you feel your face heat up.

ah, so that’s how it is.

now you’re conflicted. not that lev had ever made you feel uncomfortable - no, never - but you had never known how to return his obvious feelings. he would act on them, as always, and one day, as you fell asleep one day after final semester exams in the second year, leaning back into the plastic seat of a suburban tokyo metro rail (which lev thought was very dangerous), lev had muttered in the quietest and most subtle manner, ‘what do i do with my feelings?’

then, in a haze, with eyes barely open, you had moved your head from your seat to his shoulder, painting his cheeks red - dumbstruck. he thought you forgot about it the next morning, and you barely remember, so nothing happened afterwards. yet, when you think of him, you think of hues of orange peeling the sky into purple; of freshly washed school uniforms; of heads leaning on shoulders and fingers intertwined. you don’t know how to answer him.

with lev, there is chatter and laughter and blunt remarks that almost get him slapped in the face. still, there is a box, bigger than the bag your trinket is in, that contains words that you don’t think you or lev have ever said in pure daylight and wake.

“hey, lev?”

you want to open that box.

“yeah?”

but you don’t know how to do it yet.

“the phospholipid bilayer is made up of a polar, hydrophilic area containing a phosphate group bound to glycerol, and a non-polar, lipophilic area containing fatty acids.”

lev exclaims a series of ‘oooh!’s in delight.

“was that correct?”

“um,” lev gulps, “i think so? i mean- i think so.”

but you will open it, sooner or later, and it rings in your head when you step off the train and walk into the neighbourhood. right now, nothing is different - the air is not heavier, his eyes do not sparkle like love interests do in the movies, and you do not look through a rose-coloured lens. monday is finals, and the weekend is studying. you tell yourself this.

lev stops at your doorstep, and you almost feel a sear in your chest at the thought of him leaving for the night.

“so, good luck with next week, y/n.”

you nod, trinket bag in your hands, “you too, lev.”

you find that your arms are opening up, a small pout on your face as lev comes to wrap his arms around you, coats shuffling against each other as you hold each other at three in the morning.

when you pull away from the hug, you start to ramble a bit, scrambling for new topics to bring up in hopes of just a few more seconds with him - that, and trying to stop yourself from your newfound want to cup this boy’s face in your hands and kiss him square on the lips. you wonder if he would be good at kissing, and you wonder how much you’ll regret having these thoughts tomorrow.

but even conversation dies when you know it’s getting too cold, so you bid your sweet goodbyes and promise him not to overwork; he reminds you that it’s better to do short but frequent study sessions than fewer and highly intensive ones. you nod, your boots heavy on your doorstep, the hushed sound of keys in doors slowly becoming the only sound you hear as you assume lev’s left already.

until he calls your name.

your head spins fast towards the boy, watching as he makes long strides to stand at your doorway once again, scarf prodding the tip of his nose, so close to your face. he’s red.

“during exams, or tomorrow, or studying for entrance exams- if you ever get lost-” he pants, and unties his scarf from his neck.

“you’ll find me, okay?” the scarf comfortably hangs around your neck now, covering your mouth. he pats your head twice. it’s warm - literally.

you barely get the chance to say anything before he darts out of your house with a quick goodbye. you’re left confused, flustered, and excited at once, and this time, you think you might have the words as to why.

you like to imagine you taste sweetness, see eyes that sparkle, and feel butterflies in your stomach.

“it might not be so bad,” you whisper, looking down at the pretty little bag containing one unnecessarily expensive item lev had bought you.

right; you have feelings for him too.

then you make up your mind: you’ll tell him next friday. and if your finals stand between tonight and next friday, then, all the more motivation to get through them, right?

you make sure to set an alarm for seven in the morning, kanji textbooks lined up for tomorrow.

#haikyuu x reader #lev haiba #lev x reader #haiba x reader #haiba lev imagine #hq x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu scenarios #lev scenarios #haiba scenarios #lev fluff #haiba lev #haiba lev x reader #lev haiba x reader #hq fluff #nekoma x reader #nekoma fluff

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steve0discusses · 4 years ago

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S5 Ep 3: Apdnarg is Really Hard to Spell

Yo guys, people are getting vaccinated, the sun is parting through the clouds, and I felt so nice that I even stopped listening to quite so many throwback 00′s BTS mashups (and yet I keep clicking on these dissonant catastrophes thinking “this time it’s got to be better. This time they’ll figure it out.” and like, no. Turns out you can’t match Brittany’s Toxic with BTS’ Black Swan. You can’t do that.)

This must be a sign that things are getting better. If anything, it means my personal tastes are improving. I mean I only clicked on like 3 “Dark Academia” Playlists where I could pretend I’m some sort of spooky witch in an abandoned library with a bad music player and basic taste in classical music (like can we ban Satie from Youtube for a little while?). Hell, I might even do a prompt update to this blog!

Yeah, you heard me, I’m actually going to stay ahead of the update schedule for Yugioh Abridged (maybe. I haven’t actually watched cuz of spoilers, I just noticed the thumbnail pop up on Youtube and was like “Damn it, they came out of hiatus??? I got hurry UP.”)

Anyway, speaking of the sky parting.

I’ll have you know my bro said this is actually more like a circumcision and it was one of the worst thing I have ever heard.

We get a chance to take in this lineup of confusing and varied character designs, and Joey. who is...still Joey.

The animators probably had to hold a strike in order for them to put Yugi in the audience, lets be real. There are TOO MANY PEOPLE in this shot and one is wearing a turban where you draw every single wrap. I hope those artists charged by the line.

Tea has a subplot where she’s just very frustrated with everyone she knows. They have been traveling together for like many weeks and got trapped in a foreign country so I get it. But at the same time, it’s kind of hard to picture Tea with female friends.

Because right now you got this 12 year old child, the other duelist who does not care about anything besides cards, and Kaiba’s 3 dragon cards that we’ve all collectively decided are female.

Hell it’s almost like the writers are asking themselves why Tea is here. Maybe they forgot. There’s no more ghosts to bus, no more people to knock out with her ass with random Olympic feats. Tea’s just sidelining.

(read more under the cut)

Mokuba is a itty bit bit taller this season, and so I guess that means he can legally climb on top of the cherry picker in order to give a riveting speech.

Really says a lot about Mokuba that he is so unphased about talking to, I dunno...an entire planet of people. Kind of a shame we never see this courage from Mokuba used for anything other than talking really, really big and giving everyone around him a really hard time.

Mokuba takes a moment to dunk on Yugi Muto, as is Kaiba tradition.

And then introduce the first pair of duelists, which obviously must be between the few people in this tournament that we actually know and care about.

Thankfully, in between last episode and this episode, Yugi has figured out who his own Grandpa is. This is a relief, because Yugi is such a mess, that I was fully convinced it would take over half a season for him to recognize it. I mean how long did it take him to figure out he shares a body with a ghost? Like half a season?

Instead Yugi recovered gracefully from not recognizing his grandpa, but it’s not like he bothered to tell anyone else, so the rest of our cast is just gonna be like “Is he my hairdresser? The guy who delivers my mail? Who is this guy who made absolutely no significant changes to his outfit or voice?”

Like sometimes this show goes full Spongebob silly kid’s show and you never know when to take it seriously or not. They might be sacrificing the entire cast next episode. I really don’t know. But for now their big concern is who is grandpa??? Like an innocent card version of “Are you my Mother?”

Faced with public speaking, Yugi decides to have a melt down.

We have seen him face monsters, we’ve seen him on TV dozens of times, he’s been in multiple competitions...but give a speech? Of course he can’t do that. The kid doesn’t attend enough school to know how to do that. Them’s learning skills.

And that was when a newly assembled wife-jet spliced through the sky like a souped up razer scooter and deposited 1 fully equipped Seto Kaiba in a Buzz Lightyear jetsuit.

THE RECOVERY.

Seto always watching over his Brother, ready to save this awkward party if it kills him (and it really should, that suit is held together by two seat-belts), making sure to get on that platform before Yugi starts going off about how he’s half an Ancient Egyptian. (Ah, life before social media. You could just be hella famous and also half a dead dude and people would just not know. I kinda miss the time before I knew literally everything about everyone.)

Please admire how close those flames are to setting Mokuba’s heavily hairsprayed mane completely alight. It would be an unforgettable spectacle.

These were absolutely just random ass jet packs that Gozaburo Kaiba made to kill hell tons of people, right? Like Seto found it in the family cabin, clutched to the heart of some crispy fried corpse and was like “neat! Mokuba! I found a cool toy!” and just plucked that thing out of that skeleton’s clutches and has been flying around for months?

Like this is Seto Kaiba’s Butter Glider, right?

Seriously what type of vehicle license do you need for one of these things? RIP My ‘Seto only has a scooter license’ headcanon.

Which I’m only even thinking about because I’ve had to try and make an appt with the DMV for days to get a freakin REAL ID. I went to sleep in 2019 and I could fly on a plane. I woke up in 2021 and it’s like “Want one last screw you?” and just...can 2020 please stop screwing me over? It’s March.

Anyway, the Jet is removed soon after, so no, this is not part of his new outfit. He goes right back to his Post-S4-Trauma-Normcore.

After wrestling this competition out of his brother’s hands and confusing everyone in the audience, Roland must have gotten the memo to cut the microphone before Seto got too excited and we were quickly ushered on to the next stage of the tournament.

One sec...the BTS Mashup playlist I just clicked on did a Black Swan X 7 rings mashup and it’s the worst thing my ears have ever heard.

Holy crap. I had to actually turn down my volume. Like...Ariana Grande already has music that has way too many overlapping singing parts on it--and then lets just stick a 52-person boy band on top? That’ll fix it. Yeah. Go ahead.

Wow. Even I had to change the song and you know how much I enjoy pop culture mistakes.

Spot the Mickey but like a million times easier because it’s a Massive Dick Shaped Dragon.

Yep. That’s my grocery shopping outfit. Except maybe not a lab coat and a duel disk. Wish I had a duel disk, that would make social distancing just a hell ton earlier. Just a “Yo, only one person in checkout, please” and then bap them on the head with a propelled discuss/hologram.

Anyway, Grocery shopping/Doctor man dueled the Purple Hair Boy, and considering that Purple Hair got screen time and shook Yugi’s hand once--I think that Doctor man doesn’t stand a freakin chance.

Good. I hate him.

Also, every time he breathes he’s gonna fog up his glasses. I have experience in this area. He can’t read his own cards in the same way I can’t read my phone if I’m in the refrigerated aisle.

So the way this tournament works, is everyone has to sit in the stadium to watch the show. Kinda like showing up to a football stadium just to watch a recorded TV monitor...but then again...that is how it feels to watch a football game at a football stadium when it’s live (at least with the tickets I usually get.)

And as we watch Grandpa waiting for his competitor, we find out that his competitor (Joey) is too busy eating snacks to give him the time of day.

Why do cartoon hot dogs always have lettuce? Is that seriously supposed to be relish? Or is there a place in the world where you put lettuce on your hot dog?

Sorry, bro has just informed of his favorite hot dog order, which is absolutely terrible so I will share it with you: a Five Guys hot dog with ketchup, mustard, pickle relish, onions, mushrooms, pickled peppers, and you guessed it--topped with freakin lettuce.

My own kin. How am I over 30 and just finding out that my baby brother thinks it’s normal to walk into a restaurant with normal god-fearing law-abiding people and order lettuce and mushrooms on a hot dog?

I have fully failed him.

The rest of this episode is watching both Joey Wheeler and Mokuba have a shared panic attack while Seto does freakin nothing.

Please remember that Seto has both a jetpack and a dragon wife plane and could have easily solved this problem. But nah.

Then again, Seto Kaiba has given this crew so MANY rides, that maybe he’s tired of being the Soccer Mom for the team?

Like they don’t actually say this episode, but Seto was the one in charge of like...this entire place, do you think he made the 2 for 1 special just to get Joey where it hurts the most? Or does it actually not take any subterfuge to screw Joey Wheeler because he’s just naturally this way?

Like Mokuba wasn’t there when Joey was told “stay right here, and then we will all go together to fight Dartz” and Joey was like “I’mma save Mai from herself although she told me not to!” and then he Hella Died. But, Mokuba did see the result, AKA, Joey’s dead body being carried on the back of Tristan. Maybe Mokuba never realized that Joey died because he went out of his way to be late?

Lets do a tally of every time I can recall with my dodgy memory that Joey was threatened to be DQ’d/pretty much was DQ’d either by his own fault or no fault of his own

-When he wasn’t allowed to go on the boat to Murder Island because he was a stupid nobody kid who did not have a dueling glove

-When he wasn’t actually supposed to be in Pegasus’ tourney and was, in fact, secretly using half of Yugi’s entrance ticket the entire time

-when Bandit Keith stole the ticket that Joey got from Yugi so then Joey had to borrow Mai’s ticket although she had just used it so it really shouldn't have counted. Because, really anyone could have just piggy backed off of each other’s ticket until the whole boat went through that castle.

-When his account was hacked to get entered into Kaiba’s tourney when Kaiba very clearly told him he could not apply solely because he was Joey Wheeler.

-When he was late to his sister’s eye surgery because he got mugged by Marik’s Rare Hunters, so she almost refused to do the surgery.

-When Joey got possessed by Marik, and as Marik, threatened to murder everyone else in the tournament including both of the Kaiba brother’s who’s tournament it was, and then chained himself to Yugi Muto to throw both of them to the bottom of the ocean.

-I think there was a point when he threatened to attack Kaiba in Kaiba’s own tourney while not possessed? Like several times?

-when he got struck by Lightning and almost did not stand up fast enough after being struck by lightning, which is apparently a type of DQ in Duel Monsters.

-When he tried to save Mai from getting hit by a fireball, but then Yugi did it instead, and then so many people were standing on the dueling platform that Kaiba couldn’t possibly DQ them all.

-When he entered the restricted area of the blimp in order to hassle Kaiba into landing the Blimp, which Kaiba did not do.

-When Marik killed Joey before Joey could press the “go” button on his duel disk to play the card that should have won Joey the match.

-When he was dueling a lawyer in a digital universe but then the dice was like...weighted? So Noah had to walk over and be like “The hell is this weighted dice? This is my perfect digital world? How did you even do that?” and then Joey won because the match was no longer legit.

-When Joey yelled at Noah too much and so Noah turned Joey to stone for being a rude ass spectator

-When Mai was like “Wheeler and Valon, listen closely: do NOT murder each other” and then Joey did a murder on Valon so she was like “I guess I have no choice, I was very clear” and killed Joey straight up.

-When Joey decided to block Seto’s fireballs while Joey Wheeler WAS a playing card, somehow disrespecting both Dartz and Seto Kaiba at the same time.

-When Joey was playing cards but then got absorbed into a giant Leviathan and basically couldn’t play anymore after that.

-There’s probably hell ton of S0 stuff I just haven’t seen yet.

-This episode

And Joey runs fast for a montage of wacky things that really have no business being in a theme park. Things like this:

(remember when Bakura almost died from a rock that ended up being a balloon? It comes full circle.)

The stuff that the Kaiba brother’s think is normal and fun.

Anyway Joey fights off a bunch of hologram snakes and bats and everyone is like “Should we tell him it’s just holograms???” And it’s like wow, guys, how many times have these ‘holograms’ straight up murdered Joey Wheeler and everyone else on this cast? Too many? Because I have a google doc with so many deaths on it. 7,805,844,048, to be exact.

Anyway, he gets there with five seconds to spare and Mokuba’s like “well at least you were still entertaining while we filmed you in front of a live audience being a total spaz for 15 minutes straight, so I’ll let you go.”

Grandpa and Joey start playing, Joey completely oblivious that this is just an older Muto, while Hawkins walks up awkwardly and is like “hey guys. I’m so sorry about this.”

(welcome to my font choices, for those new here, I have to make weird font color choices to make sure it’s legible for the colorblind and also for the non-colorblind. This one is not much contrast, so I may change it up in the future, but for now, this is Grandpa Muto’s new font. I apologize to every graphic designer reading this. Please don’t tell anyone who has ever hired me for graphic design about this blog.)

What’s funny about this exchange is that after they find out that Yugi’s Grandpa is Apdnarg (HOLY my brain cannot get around the spelling for that, and I will not change it in the caps. I cannot do a ‘pdn’ ever again), they don’t stand on his side of the field or anything. Hawkins is legit Solomon Muto’s only fan during this exchange and like...damn. Way not to back your Grandpa, Yugi.

Yugi immediately strides up to Mokuba to non-confrontation-ally inform him that he has stepped over a line and Mokuba is like “what are these things you say called ‘lines?’”

According to Mokuba, Solomon Muto begged him to be in the competition so he could relive his glory days (glory days making no sense here, because the game has only been released for the past 15 years, so glory days is like...the before times that can only be referring to disgraced archeologists and Pegasus ((who is, in his own way...a disgraced archeologist, too))) and Mokuba was like

“You trained Yugi Muto, right? Hey that’s good enough for me. This drama is gold. People will eat it up. Hell yes. Don’t be afraid to abduct him a little bit. Maybe trap a couple people in a digital hellscape for a little while? Now we go by Pegasus house rules here, so fire as many lasers as you want, but just make sure not to hit anyone in the face. Oh man, we are going to be swimming in cash. Love it, Muto Sr, love it.”

But I dunno, I feel like Grandpa won’t make it past next episode. It is Joey. We kinda need him to make it past Ep 4 of the arc. If Grandpa Muto becomes the new Joey Wheeler, that will be a weird transition for this show to make.

But that’s all for today, as always, here is the link to read these in chrono order becuase there’s SO MANY that you don’t need to read backwards--don’t do it--just use the chrono tag (and I don’t know if you can add compound tags, but I did separate the Season from the Episode, so if you write S4, it should only pop up stuff from S4. I didn't’ do that to seasons 1-3 though because I just...didn’t.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

And because I brought it up: here it is, the best BTS Mashup that I found on my deep dive. Like legit--this one isn’t a mess:

youtube

Most of other ones are horrible in a fascinating way. Like I’m not even a BTS fan, I think I sort of age out of that metric, I’m just bored and quarantined. And lets be real, we all appreciate a good bop when we hear it.

#yugioh #ygo #yu gi oh #photo recap #recap #episode recap #yugi muto #seto kaiba #mokuba kaiba #Joey Wheeler #Apdnarg #Grandpa muto #tea gardner #tristan taylor #professor hawkins #and then I ranted about BTS #but please don't quiz me about BTS I know nothing about them aside from the music #I actually thought there were over 12 of them because every time I see them perform it feels like an entire stageplay production of people #like a 101 dalmations situation where every time I saw BTS there were 3 new people #I assumed it was like the Gorrilaz where people just show up and then disappear in a rotation #but no. There's 7 BTS members #that can't be right #there has to be more than 7 #is this a berenstein bears situation?#how is there only 7?#I swear there used to be like 16 #and they would be introduced like here's jimin and Jungkook and red and yellow and green and brown and scarlet and black and ochre and pea #like is google seriously telling me there's only 7 kids in this band?#this is the biggest scam google has ever played on me #this weird alternate timeline that not only has an epidemic but also only 7 members of BTS

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aliendes · 5 years ago

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Natural Borns - Chapter Five

Banner made by @thebannershop

Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, future smut - NSFW due to darker themes

Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual)

Warnings: mentions of sex in exchange for favors but it doesn’t actually happen, mentions of suicide, anxiety, and depression. Mentions of alcohol, tobacco, and drug use. Mentions of prescription drugs and medical stuff like blood. Insinuations of poly relationships, if this make you uncomfortable, this will be a reoccurring theme for the rest of the series. The boys love each other, that’s the point of this story. Mentions of skipping meals? If that’s a warning. Warnings will be different for each chapter from here on out.

Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it?

Word count: 4.2k ~

A/N: I’m really excited for this chapter! This is Yoongi’s backstory! Yay!! There is also some juicy info in this chapter that will be explored in the next one. Also, you guys voted for smut with romantic relationships, so please note that for the rest of the series, there will be smut, poly relationships, etc. If this makes you uncomfortable, I totally understand. If you want to be added/removed from the taglist please send me an ask! Enjoy!!

xx Des

Updated: 8/15/2020

As the day went on, and the sun started to set beyond the hills, your mind was plagued with the thoughts that this was all a horrible, horrible idea.

After you stormed out of the warehouse, the remaining four men in Yoongi’s room continued to argue about whether or not it would be a good idea to let you help with their plan. Seokjin and Jungkook were firmly against it. They felt enchanted by your personality and something about you was captivating to them. Hoseok and Yoongi were both incredibly unsure of your place in this family, not yet trusting of you. Yoongi obviously felt an attraction to you, but he wasn’t entirely sure it was anything beyond physical at this point. Though, he knew if he let it, it would fester into something much, much stronger. Whenever you were present he could feel himself start to slip. The cold exterior he always made a show of keeping up, crumbling to ash in his hands. He can’t deny the way his heart clenched in his chest when you ran out of the room. He wanted to run after you, tell you that he wouldn’t make you do anything you weren’t comfortable with. But he held himself back. He’s had plenty of practice holding himself back and not allowing his emotions to crack his icy walls.

Namjoon was Yoongi’s first friend in the facility. They were both ‘bought’ from their mothers when they were teenagers, and since they were similar in age, they roomed together at Big Hit. Namjoon had already been at the lab for a few months before Yoongi showed up, disheveled and scared. Unlike Namjoon, Yoongi had a very hard time coping with the fact that he now had to live in a cramped room with another boy, be poked and prodded and experimented on.

Namjoon had lived a pretty sheltered life, and didn’t have too many friends growing up. Yoongi was the complete opposite. He was seen as the ‘bad boy’ in his high school, always getting the girls because of his unusual good looks, smoking cigarettes behind the school, and causing trouble in his classes. He liked to think he had a lot of friends, but most of them were deadbeats who only hung around him because he stole cigarettes and alcohol from his mom’s boyfriends. Regardless, he enjoyed being out of the house and living his life the way he wanted to. When he was brought to Big Hit, all of that changed. His freedoms were stripped from him, even basic human needs were stripped from him. They would often go days without eating, only being given water, told that they had to ‘fast’ in order for certain experiments to work, or for certain blood work to be done. All of the torture they endured was ‘in the name of science’. Or so they were told.

Yoongi went through the stages of grief pretty quickly in the lab. When he first arrived, he was extremely upset, in denial that any of that was actually happening to him. He would tell Namjoon that his mom would come get him any minute now, and all of this would be some horrible joke she played on him to get him back on the straight and narrow, get him to stop skipping school and drinking. After a few days went by, he realized she wasn’t coming, and anger quickly took over him. Yoongi attempted to break down the door in his and Namjoon’s tiny room, to no avail. Eventually the guards sedated him and Namjoon had to look after him for two days while he sweated out the medication, shaking and dehydrated from lack of fluids. After that happened, he started to bargain with the guards or the doctors that would come take him into exam rooms, telling them he would do anything for them to release him, even resorting to offering favors in exchange for freedom. He never followed through with any of his offers, but he would later hate himself for stooping that low.

After a few weeks of this, Yoongi eventually developed severe depression, even being put on suicide watch at one point. After spending so much time together in their tiny dorm, Namjoon started to really care for the older boy and was extremely distraught over his behavior. He would tell Yoongi that everything would be ok, and one day they would get out of there. Some nights it got so bad Namjoon would slip into Yoongi’s bed and hold him close while he sobbed or when he woke up from nightmares.

Yoongi would sleep away days at a time, not eating or drinking water. Namjoon would have to force water down his throat when he was getting delirious and having horrible migraines that prevented him from moving around too much. Namjoon would lay with him while he shook from dehydration mixed with the meds they gave him. Yoongi lost his will to live, lost his will to do anything but accept what the lab was doing to him. There was nothing he could do about it, and while Namjoon had remained optimistic about their future, Yoongi accepted their fate and allowed the doctors and technicians to do whatever they wanted with him. He became a shell of his former self, not getting out of bed unless carried by Namjoon or the technicians, staring at the wall for hours on end, and only speaking when he was forced by the doctors. Namjoon cried for his friend, only wanting to help, wanting to get him out of there.

That was why Namjoon came up with the escape plan. One night, after Yoongi had been at the facility for nearly a year, Namjoon woke him up in the early hours of the morning. Apparently, the younger had been learning the rotations of the technicians and the guards when he was being moved from room to room. He would also listen in on their conversations while he was being given meds or having his blood drawn in the exam room, which was right next to the guard room. He didn’t tell Yoongi what he was doing because he didn’t want anyone to overhear them and ruin his plan, so Yoongi was completely shocked to learn he had all of this planned out.

Namjoon said that the guards would be on break in the guard room around 3:30 AM, and at 3:40 AM the technician on duty would rotate with the morning shift, who comes in at 3:45 AM and the guards would end their break around the same time, giving them a five minute window to get out of their rooms and down a hallway that led to the elevators. They both knew that this hallway led away from the exam rooms, and therefore, away from the guards. Yoongi was even more shocked when Namjoon pulled a keycard out of his back pocket that he took off one of the guards earlier when he was being given medication. That keycard would allow them to get onto the elevator and, hopefully, escape this place.

Given all the things that could’ve gone wrong, Namjoon and Yoongi’s escape went relatively seamlessly, and once they were out of that God forsaken place, they moved from place to place together, sleeping on the streets, abandoned houses, and homeless shelters, until they met Seokjin and Jungkook. Two men who were at one point, also housed at Big Hit, but released for different reasons. They would later meet the others and form the family they know and love today. Yoongi was thankful for the six men, living with them, and growing with them. They had a shared traumatic experience that they helped each other through, leaned on each other, and eventually developed a bond that they never expected.

Even after all these years, Yoongi still admired Namjoon and was beyond thankful for him for being there through his darkest times. Quite literally keeping him alive in the facility when he had given up trying. He owed Namjoon his life and respected him more than anyone on this planet. He never wanted to disappoint him and has been helping him find other natural borns to further his vision of equality, even if he didn’t always want to. Yoongi would much rather it just be the seven of them for the rest of their lives, but he understood why Namjoon pushed for this, why he stood up for others that couldn’t stand up for themselves. It was one of the many reasons he admired the man.

That is exactly why Yoongi is currently standing outside the warehouse, back against the large metal door you had run out of earlier today. The sun had set over an hour ago, meaning you had been gone most of the day. The others would have panicked by now, had it not been for Hoseok alerting them of your whereabouts. They were all shocked when Hobi had come into Yoongi’s room a few hours ago, letting them all know he had been watching you from the second floor, sitting on a rock down by the quarry. Jungkook and Seokjin had both wanted to go to you, but Namjoon talked them down, telling them you needed time to process everything that had happened to you. You were dealing with a lot, even now, and you didn’t even have the full story. They knew Namjoon’s words were true, having gone through something similar themselves. Though, they couldn’t imagine how you were feeling, having to suddenly leave your family with little explanation.

It was only after Namjoon pulled Yoongi aside in the hallway, telling him again he needed to fix this, apologize to you, even if he didn’t want to. He needed to make sure you stayed with them because if you didn’t, you’d be in more danger than you realized. Yoongi would never let Namjoon down, and so, he made his way down to the water to make good on his promise to fix this.

You were vaguely aware that the sun had set a while ago, sat on a rock, knees pulled to your chest, and face resting upon your crossed arms. You weren’t sobbing anymore, just a few stray tears falling every now and then. You were sure your face was red and swollen with how much crying you’ve done today.

The sound of the ripples on the water, the wind slowly blowing the trees around you, and the sound of chirping crickets was helping you relax, but with nightfall, brought cooler temperatures. Even though it was summer, it was still a bit chilly at night with how much humidity was in the air. Being right next to water wasn’t helping either. Just as a chill ran down your spine, causing you to shiver violently, you felt something warm being draped over your shoulder.

You startled, head snapping up at the new presence beside you, causing you to let out a curse as you nearly fell backwards. As you righted yourself, you were met with a pair of nearly black eyes that you least expected to see right now. “You’re shivering,” Yoongi coldly stated, face emotionless as he looked down at your pathetic state.

Way to state the obvious, you thought. But truthfully, you were thankful for the warmth of the leather jacket he had wrapped you in. You audibly gulped, looking up at him with eyes as wide as they could go, considering how puffy they were. “T- th- thanks…” you trailed off quietly, grabbing the sides of the jacket to pull it closer to you. You hadn’t realized just how cold you were.

“You coming back up?”

You mulled over his question for a moment. You were cold. And hungry. And completely and utterly exhausted and probably dehydrated with the river of tears you’ve cried today. Yet, you didn’t feel all that welcome in their ‘home’ and you were unsure if you really wanted to go back. Yoongi seemed to notice your hesitancy, taking the opportunity to say what he had practiced all the way down here. Talking wasn’t his strong suit. “They’re really worried about you, you know,” he uttered, softer than before, but still monotone.

Is that what he came all the way down here to tell you? You furrowed your brows at him, “They can come down here if they want,” you were pretty sure your brazen attitude was stemming from your emotional state and the chilly breeze, “they didn’t have to send you.”

Yoongi pursed his lips into a thin line, biting his tongue from saying what he really wanted to say, you think I want to be here? Instead, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose and let out a long sigh. When he opened his eyes, he saw you still staring at him, daring him to say something. He liked it, the fire in you. You seemed like a shy girl, timid even. He hoped you still had that fire after you learned what a horrible, unjust world you all live in.

Yoongi sat down on the rock next to you, not asking first, just making room for himself. You quickly scooted over, not feeling incredibly comfortable with him yet. “I’m sorry,” he began, staring down at his lap, “I was being unfair.” It almost sounded like the words were forced, like he didn’t really mean them, or want to say them, but you still took some comfort in the fact he was at least apologizing to you. Not that you thought he owed you an apology, but it still felt nice.

“No, you aren’t being unfair,” you murmured, looking out at the now cerulean blue water, “I’m sorry. Sorry I’m here.”

You sounded so small, so defeated. You reminded Yoongi of how he felt when he was first taken from his family. Scared, alone. Something in him wanted to reach out to you, comfort you, and he almost did, stopping his hand midair before it could reach your arm. You noticed his movement out of the corner of your eye and before he could retract his hand, you flinched. Actually flinched away from him. It was slight, but it still took Yoongi by surprise, jaw hanging slack, eyes widening at your apparent fear. Of him. Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever felt shittier in his life. Was he so cold someone was actually afraid he’d hurt them? He’s never hurt anyone in his life. Sure, he was a ‘bad boy’, broke his fair share of laws, but he has never, ever, hurt another person.

“YN -”, he retracted his hand immediately, bringing it behind his back, wanting to hide the offending appendage, “I - wh -” he wasn’t even sure how to finish his sentence. He watched you pull your knees closer to your chest and lay your forehead on them, letting out a breath you had been holding. You didn’t look scared, you looked exasperated, and he wasn’t sure if that made him feel any better at all.

You didn’t actually think Yoongi would hurt you, you’ve just been so used to people treating you however they want, especially in high school. Boys would push you around in the hallways, girls would pull your hair in class and steal your backpack from under the lunch table. After high school, men would pull on your skirts or dresses at the market while you tried to sell flowers with a smile plastered on your face, which inevitably caused you to throw away any clothes that weren’t pants and baggy shirts. You were relatively afraid of people, and even though you trusted the men who took you in and have been helping you, you still didn’t know Yoongi, or the type of person he was. Now you felt remorse at the look on his face when you flinched away. He looks honestly heartbroken, regret written all over his features. You shook your head back and forth, forehead rubbing against your linen covered knees.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed quietly, not daring to look back at the blonde next to you.

Yoongi’s heart broke further at the sound, “Can I touch you?”

Though you were shocked at Yoongi’s sudden query, you didn’t lift your head. Slowly, you nodded up and down, hoping he could see it. Now that you were expecting the movement, you didn’t startle as Yoongi scooted closer to you on the rock and gently, softly, ran a large, warm hand up and down your spine. Yoongi inwardly noted that your bones were perhaps sticking out a little too far, that maybe you��ve skipped one too many meals lately. Or maybe, you didn’t have access to them. He wasn’t sure. He had no idea what kind of home you lived in. He had limited information, and most of it was about your father. That thought made him remember something, “Pearl?” Yoongi whispered cautiously, not sure how you would react to him having this knowledge. Hoping that you would find some sort of comfort in it, since your friends and mother called you that.

You immediately stopped sniffling, body going stiff as a board. You sat up abruptly and looked Yoongi dead in the eyes, “What did you call me?” He could see the red rims of your swollen eyes, dried tear tracks being covered by new ones and another piece of his heart cracked off, swallowed by the ocean of his chest.

“Pearl,” he uttered again, a little more confidently, “isn’t that your nickname?”

“H-how?” You stuttered, staring into his vast ocean eyes. They held more emotion than you were accustomed to, coming from him. You gently shook your head back and forth to dislodge the tears that were gathering at the corners.

Yoongi visibly blushed at your question, quickly avoiding your gaze and turning his head to the side and removing his hand from your back. You momentarily missed the warmth. He looked like he was gazing out at the water, but you could tell he was embarrassed. You narrowed your eyes at him. What was he hiding? “Yoongi?” You sniffled again, which caught his attention. He bit his cheek and looked at you through his lashes.

“I- I’m sorry.”

You were even more confused now. “For?”

“Everything,” he let out an exasperated sigh, “for yelling at you last night, for acting like sending you to Big Hit was a good idea, and…” he trailed off. You waited a moment, tears forgotten as you listened to the man be sincere for the first time since you met him, “for going through your phone.” His words were quiet, so quiet you almost asked him to repeat himself, but after a moment realization hit you.

“Y- you went through my phone?” Long gone was the remorse you felt for leaving your friends, the sorrow you felt at possibly losing your family. In its place, was anger. An ugly, red monster that was brewing in your chest. A part of you knew it was irrational, but the other part knew that he wouldn’t be ashamed if he didn’t feel like he did something wrong. This man, who yelled at you, made you feel small, made you think you didn’t matter… had invaded your privacy. Namjoon promised he would shut off service to your phone, making it untraceable. He promised it would be safe in their hands. You wouldn’t let your mind trace this back to Namjoon, no. He did nothing wrong. You were angry at the blonde sitting in front of you, wide-eyed with a mouth shaped like an “o”.

He shook himself out of the momentary shock at your reaction, “Y- yes,” he dragged out before quickly adding, “and I’m so sorry YN, really I am. It was wrong of me, and I know that. I know that! I just…”

You cut him off before he could finish that thought, “If you knew it was wrong, why did you do it?”

There was a deep ‘v’ forming on your forehead. The face you wore didn’t resemble someone who was angry, more concerned. Or disappointed. Yeah, that was the right word, Yoongi thought. He felt small in this moment, like he was a child being scolded for stealing cookies. He sighed and looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

“I was scared,” was all he could come up with at the moment, feeling so incredibly guilty and having no other way to express it to you.

“Scared?” You scoffed, he hasn’t been acting very scared. In fact, it seemed more like he was putting on a tough guy persona to try and scare you. “Of what, exactly?” You were feeling brazened now, these boys were really bringing out the sides of you, weren’t they?

A beat passed before Yoongi uttered, “Of losing my soulmates.”

The anger you were feeling just moments ago, dissipated in tiny fractures until all that was left in its wake was empathy for the man sitting across from you. For the first time since you met him, you felt like you saw Yoongi’s rock solid wall, crack slightly. His expression was still blank, like usual, but there was something in his eyes that was calling out to you, for help. He was just like the others. Scared, alone, worried. He found a home in these men, his best friends, maybe even his lovers. Something you were just starting to realize you might be finding in them, too. You were all alike, in some way or another. All felt like you didn’t belong, and here, with each other, you did belong. If you could feel that, you can’t imagine what Yoongi must feel for the others, having spent so much time with them.

You look away from Yoongi’s eyes, staring out at the water like he had been moments ago, cracking under the pressure of his intense gaze. Biting your lip to keep the dam from breaking again you whisper, “I shouldn’t be here.”

Yoongi wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly, but after a moment realized what you had meant by that. “That’s not what I meant, YN,” he sighed and ran a hand down his face, “really, it’s not.”

“No, I know, Yoongi,” you started, not turning to look at him just yet, “I’ve been thinking about it all day. I don’t want to walk in here and ruin what you guys have, get in the way of your friendships, or relationships,” you blushed at the insinuation, “I should go home. We don’t even know if my parents know anything, or if they even planned on giving me to Big Hit. I’m an adult, I can make my own decisions, they know that.”

Yoongi started to panic, not just because he knew Seokjin and Jungkook would be crushed if you chose to leave, but because he knew you didn’t know the whole truth. Should he tell you? Namjoon would kill him. He didn’t want to disappoint his best friend, his savior, his love. But, he also didn’t want to possibly endanger you by allowing you to return home. He was already starting to care deeply for you and was terrified of the possibility of you getting hurt. “YN -” he started before sucking his lips between his teeth, contemplating his next words. At his silence, you removed your gaze from the quarry and turned towards the nervous looking man. He was wringing his wrist between the fingers of his other hand, a nervous tick.

You looked at him expectantly through long lashes, eyes still red rimmed from crying away most of the day. Yoongi still thought you looked ethereal, especially with the way the moon was reflecting in your eyes. It was like he could see the entire galaxy staring back at him, and it made him feel things he didn’t want to feel right now. Not when he was about to break your heart.

“YN I, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go back. I know you don’t trust me,” he rushed out, making sure you weren’t going to cut him off again, “just let me explain why I’m saying this. I haven’t made the greatest impression on you, and for that I really am sorry. Like I said, I was scared. That’s not an excuse to treat someone poorly, but I hope you can understand that I love the others more than I love myself.”

Your eyes softened at his confession. You could see the love they shared for each other, but hearing him say it really solidified your observations. “Namjoon isn’t telling you the whole truth,” he noticed your eyes go wide, at mentally slapped himself for the poor choice of words before quickly saying, “it’s not what you think! You are like us. You are different. And you are in danger. But Namjoon knew if he told you just how much danger you were in, you probably wouldn’t trust him. He’s not a bad guy, in fact, he’s the exact opposite. He’s saved my life once before and I’m positive he’d do the same for you.”

If you weren’t confused before, you sure as hell are now. They were lying to you? “YN, your parents,” he let out another sigh hating the words he was about to say, “they are the ones lying to you. Hyunwoo and your father weren’t classmates. They worked together,” he felt like a traitor, like he was letting Namjoon down, “he’s a beneficiary of Big Hit. They’re already paying for you.”

To be continued...

taglist: @minifruity @mrcleanheichou @arantxaglz @chim-possible @kooksremedy @irishhbamb @sugashaye @lovelyseomin

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7wanderingpaws · 5 years ago

Text

The Art of Shakiness

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: collegue AU, doctor AU, wee bit of angst, romance, fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 5.3K

A/N: I saw the pretty moodboard and asked dear Marie @iloveagain if I could attempt to write this for her! I hope so much you will like it, sorry it took me so long! I would appreacite any kind of feedback! I enjoyed this! ❤😭 and omg I apologise for the terrible name of the oneshot, I am very bad at names :(((

“Miss, your hand is trembling too much,” scolded the professor as he walked to your lab table where the dead frog was lying, his white belly cut open. He stood in front of you, tsk tsking at you as he shook his head disapprovingly. “How do you want to take out his spleen if your hand is trembling so much? It is a small organ surrounded with even smaller ones. You know a surgeon needs a steady hand.”

Pressing your lips together, sucking them in you didn't meet the eye of your professor, too ashamed to look at him and see the disappointment.

You have always been struggling with shaky hands, whether you were stressed or not. If you were stressed and held a thin piece of paper, you could be rest assured you wouldn't even be able to read from it, the paper shaking violently in your weak fingers. It was something you have been extremely self-conscious about, and you learned early on how to mask the discomfort on your face whenever you caught people staring at your shakiness. Of course, just like all the elementary school kids, you were no exception to jokes or teasing, but you could deal with that. Accepting the truth and being able to make fun of it was a mature treat of yours when you were young and unknown to the cruel human nature.

“Just look at the gentleman next to you,” pointed out the professor, his hand gesturing to no other than Byun Baekhyun himself. “Steady hands, precise clean cut, causing as little damage to the body as possible. Maybe you should learn from him.” He didn't even look at you as he continued his way down the path of lab tables, all filled with surgical equipment and focused (or rather stressed) students. “Just continue working, miss.”

Gritting your teeth, you tried hard not to give ANY attention to the male next to you. He was chuckling, while working through the intestines of the little animal. His hands were swift, steady and just like the professor described, precise. Although you would never admit it out loud, having steady hands on a male was something that could turn you on and have you stare at the steadiness of the hands for way too long. Plus point would always be, if those hands were handsome too.

But back to your main point.

You hated the male next to you. He was you working partner, sitting partner and there was not much you could do about it. He was a playful charmer, always getting the best (or worst?) out of you, driving you up the wall. He was the number one student in almost all practical seminars besides… well, general medicine. In that one class, you were the number one.

“It's cause all you have to do is memorizing,” he would retort.

Sure.

Of course.

You weren't aiming to be the number one student at all. No. He was competing with nonexistent competition.

Or was he?

Because maybe the utmost, infuriating fact about him was that he didn't have to as much as sit down and thoroughly study. No. He was the one, who could read the text once or twice and he would recite it backwards.

So, in the words of students and friends that you shared, he was a scarily intelligent genius.

And you had to agree, and you hated him for that. He was everything you weren't. He was relaxed, you were stressed. You were trembling, he was steady. You were angry, he was cheerful. You had different personalities because of which your exchange of opinions clashed. And as much as everyone adored him, you couldn't.

It was the presentation day.

Your stack of diligently prepared papers was lying on your table, ready to be presented to the audience consisting of your classmates and your professor, who definitely didn't listen to information about the consistency of DNA before at all (sarcasm). Heck, he was your professor. If there was anyone that knew his thing better about this subject, it was exactly him. So you researched and studied hard, went to various lengths to give a good impression. But there was one thing that was holding you back, a scar that was threatening to bust open once you stood in front of the big auditorium, your well-structured ppt screened on the vast wall behind you.

As you were holding the single piece of paper, ready to start, was when you noticed your stress had got the better out of you again. It was shaking, violently, and despite you being confident in your presentation skills, this threw you off guard.

The silence in the huge space was literally deafening, and you struggled to get your heart to beat in a regular pace again. You didn't want to show this side of you. For once, you wanted people to be awed at how good you were at this…

But it didn't work. No matter the determination, the desire and mental will power to control the paper and the shakiness, it did not stop. If anything, it would tremble even more.

Screaming inside, you just decided you wouldn't look at the paper, hoping your memory of the text you were supposed to present was still well engraved in your memory.

Taking a deep breath, you were about to start when someone cleared their throat and stood up. Someone. It was him. He was walking down the steps that led from his seat to the podium you were on, and you professor raised a questioning eyebrow at the slim figure that was now almost in front of you. Not even giving him a chance, you frowned, whispering: “What are you doing?”

Without a word, he handed you something. It was a clipboard. “Just take it. Use it,” was what he said, giving you an encouraging smile.

Staring at the clipboard, you saw his hand - the steady one, that was now trying to help you by easing your anxiety. “Stop staring and take it. You have an audience to impress,” he murmured but he was playful. Grabbing your hand, he pressed it into your sweaty palm. Before he let go of you, you felt his hand squeezing yours gently, causing your heart to jump painfully.

Winking, he turned around swiftly, and on his way back he spoke out loud to the class: “Our colleague forgot her support.”

Your professor chuckled and motioned for you to start. By hearing him chuckle, and then facing an encouraging face of Baekhyun who was now staring at you like a puppy with perked ears and a wiggly tail, you finally managed to have a peace of heart. Your hand got a bit steadier as you put the paper on the clipboard, and with no trace of shakiness haunting you, you presented.

He was always there to support you, yet you never gave it a thought. You never questioned his fond smile when he looked at you struggling with scalpel or when the memorizing of the muscles in latin wouldn't work well with your brain. You never even thanked him when he told you the easier ways to remember the difficult terms and you almost cut him open with your own scalpel when he helped you at autopsies.

Patiently, he would lean over the lab table you shared, his elbows on the surface as he clasped his handsome hands together. Wait. Did you just say handsome? N-no, you meant steady and good-look-NO! Just. Steady.

“And now grab the left side,” he murmured, his attention fully on the work at hand. His hot breath fanned the skin on your hand and the goosebumps caused a wave of shakiness overtaking your limbs.

“Woah,” he grabbed your hand gently before it would stab another organ. “Relax. We can't ruin-”

“I know,” you snapped, stepping away from the table and focusing your gaze upwards to ease the tension from focusing for too long. “I can't scratch the other organs, it needs to be precise, and I should take out the stomach, not the guts… I know it all, Baekhyun. You aren't the only knowledgeable person here.” You were still staring elsewhere, rolling your eyes to exercise the muscles.

Baekhyun frowned, not showing the hurt you caused with your snappy attitude. “I know you know,” he tried, straightening up to his full height, his lab coat in a funny angle around his broad shoulders. “I'm just trying to help. You only need to pass this one exam and then you don't have to do more autopsies, or surgeries.”

“No,” you replied resolutely. He went silent. “This isn't the only time. I want to be a surgeon, just like my father. I want to be as good as him.”

“You can do it,” he stated. He waited until you turn and finally look at him, but you didn't. It was making him sad to see you suffering and if it meant spending all his free time to help you, then so be it. “I know you can.”

“I can't! The professor will kick me out of this course at the exam!”

“Just trust yourself a little bit!” he insisted now, his voice louder as he took a hold of your shoulder, needing to see your eyes. He wanted you to see his, so that maybe you could understand.

Once you finally locked eyes with him, he spotted your teary eyes and he gasped softly, hating the view. He never saw you cry before.

“What?” you whispered, afraid to speak louder in case your voice would fail you. You already hated he was witnessing this side of you.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you suddenly shook your head in dismissal, shaking his hand off of your shoulder. “No, don't talk. Don't. I can't stand you right now.”

And you left.

Pff, that idiot kept being annoying even more after that day in the labs. He wouldn't stop pestering you, always doing silly stuff to try to tick you off and it would end up in him laughing at you. Yeah. You always knew he was no good news.

It was next week when you had the last autopsy seminar at 7am before the final exam. You came in earlier, your thoughts still sleepy but soon to be woken by your determined self to pass the course and prove the world that even people with the worst shakiness in their hands could become amazing surgeons.

Baekhyun was already there, preparing the equipment and checking his notes when he heard you enter the silent room. The smell of disinfectant hit your nose once again, and you suppressed the disgust and negative emotions that were tied to the smell.

“Good morning,” he smiled at you and let his gaze rest on you until you reached the table on the other side. When you didn't respond, only letting out a grunt, he frowned. “That isn't your seat.”

“Well, now it is.”

Once again, he tried not to show the hurt he felt at your actions. He always had you next to him; throughout all the labs he could keep a secret eye on your work and amend issues quickly when you weren't looking. But now, sitting too far away from him and the exam literally around the corner, you couldn't afford to make a mistake.

“You should get tissues from the toilets then,” he said, feigning ignorance as he focused his attention back on his doodles of corgi dogs that he was scribbling until you interrupted his diligent work - the one you mistook for him studying his notes. “The table's dirty and I saw a piece of a finger not far away.”

Hearing his monotone voice, you didn't know what scared you more - the information he was providing you and made you flinch away from the table, or his sudden cold attitude. He was never cold with you.

“Sure,” you replied, turning to leave, giving him one last glance before exiting.

Baekhyun, hearing your absence, quickly stood up and took his water bottle, successfully pouring it on the chair made of light wood. Good, he thought to himself smuggly. Thanks to the light colour, it would be difficult to spot the puddle and plus, it wasn't like people usually paid attention to the chairs they were about to sit on, right?

You returned with some toilet papers, and quickly cleaned the table up, although it wasn't as messy as Baekhyun told you it was. Getting rid of the dirty papers, you finally sat down, wanting to just move on and start preparing when you felt it.

Wet coldness made itself inside through the textile of your jeans, all the way to your underwear. Letting out a yelp, you jumped up, turning around to see that, indeed, there was a puddle on the chair that you failed to notice.

Chuckles coming from the side couldn't be stopped, more so when you locked eyes with Baekhyun's laughing ones, his eyes half-moons turned downwards as he couldn't keep it in anymore and he started to laugh out loud, his mouth wide open.

“You-” you let out, seething from anger. “You did this?!” you shouted, your face growing hot, as angry tears made their way to your eyes. Disbelief in his actions was an understatement. How could he do this to you? “Are you freaking nuts? BYUN BAEKHYUN!!!” you screeched, letting out a loud, high-pitched scream as you closed your eyes and kept screaming.

Stopping abruptly, you opened your eyes, huge tears falling out of them. Taking your bag, you made three quick, big steps towards his laughing figure only for him to stop, surprised at the sight of your tear-stained face. “You,” you leaned in, so, so close that his eyes widened at the proximity, his heart jumping fast. “I,” you re-started, breathing heavily as you pointed your finger at him, poking it into his shoulder. “I. Hate. You. And if I see you anywhere near me, I will end you.”

You didn't fail that exam. But your professor didn't forget to mention the difficulties you would have once proceeding on with your field of study - an orthopaedic surgeon.

It left you so utterly devastated, disappointed and just overall bitter about your whole studies that you ended up locked in your room for days, crying.

You made sure, whenever you had to go to school and attend exams, you would make great effort in ignoring Baekhyun, who was so shocked at your cold attitude. You not even batting an eyelash at him, and he, just like you, ended up being bitter. He missed you, missed your presence. Despite you being grumpy with him, he never wanted to lose you. He admitted he might have gone too far with the wet chair thingy… He thought…

What did he think?

Well, now he could see it didn't bring you back to him. It officially made you hate him and he was hopeless. Trying to start conversations with you was completely fruitless. Surprising you with bouquets of flowers on your table didn't work at all. It had only one plus: he could see you genuinely smile until you recognized him hiding behind the wall, watching your reaction and you would realize the gift was from him. As much as you were touched, and it may have made your heart flutter, you couldn't stop the frown. You would stand up, leaving the bouquet there for Baekhyun to sadly walk over and retrieve it, watching your leaving figure.

The next semester he never saw you in the classes again. Did you give up? Or did you take a semester off? No, you couldn't have given up! You came too far for you to give up!

Contacting you was not working; apparently you changed your phone number.

Why other friends knew this, but he didn't?

Did you really hate him so much?

And what was this pain he was feeling? The darkness that was surrounding him, caused by your absence… it was hurting too much. He missed you.

He was, in fact, the entire time, hopelessly in love with you.

And you...

You hated him.

5 years later

You were just walking down the corridor at your department, hands deep inside your pockets when you heard your name being called out. Turning, you saw your colleague Hana running down after you. “I have a huuuuuge favour to ask of you,” she sighed once she stopped in front of you, clutching her hip for support.

“What favour?” you asked, worried you might have to stay longer in the hospital again. Even though your department wasn't the one where overnight shifts were common (actually, extremely rare) but staying longer than 5-6pm was always tiring. “I have covered your ass way too many times, don't you think?”

Finally her breath evened out and she straightened up, giving you puppy eyes.

“No!” you pointed your finger at her. “Don't you dare do this to me!”

“Please!” she wailed, locking her hands together in a plea. “I swear this is the last time. Then you can order me around as much as you want.”

You sighed, pressing your index and middle finger to your temple, trying to ease the stress of the day. “You know I don't like ordering people around…”

“Whatever, you will have me at your mercy. But Sehun managed to get a reservation at this fancy restaurant-”

You heaved out another sigh, her words now completely draining you out. These people. Dating, meeting up, being romantic, intimate… everything that you barely ever experienced, and now as a working person, you swore you could say bye to finding any kind of love in your life. You work was your life. But you didn't love work. Did that mean you didn't love your life then...?

You waited until she finished and you gave her a grunt. “What do you want me to do? I can do the exercises with your patients if that's what you want.”

She smiled nervously, but shook her head slowly, obviously wary and suddenly hasty.

“What is it?” you frowned. “You are acting like I bite.”

She scratched the back of her neck, avoiding your gaze. “Well, it is a bit of an annoying work, that is why I am not the happiest about asking you…”

“You don't seem like it,” you scoffed.

She ignored you and went on: “Anyway. Remember there was this huge accident few weeks ago? With two parents and two kids... “

You nodded, already dreading what was coming. It was an absolutely horrendous car crash that had two parents falling out through the front window, leaving them in a terrible state, meanwhile the kids didn't get as much as a scratch. News reporters were flooding the hospital and there was a huge interest regarding the two parents who were now lying on the intensive care after going through lengthy, difficult and complex surgery.

“So both parents have trouble with walking as you know. They are now at the orthopedic department after getting another surgery few days ago.”

“Oh, I wasn't aware they moved them.”

“Well, yeah, because of the naggings from the TV stations it is being kept a secret. But anyhow… The boss put me under the recovery supervision. They require basic exercises to support muscle activity. Do you think you could go to the orthopedics department and do it for me?”

You were hesitant. Not because you didn't want to do it. Actually, you would gladly help that poor family that went through such tragedy. But there was something else holding you back.

After few seconds of tense contemplating, you finally nodded. “Okay. Alright. I will do it. Do you have the necessary documents?”

“Thank you so much!” she squealed, hugging you. “I prepared the docs, they are in the common room on my table.”

When you arrived at the orthopedics department, it was quiet given the time of the day you visited. Kindly asking for directions from the nurses, you finally found the patients in question. A doctor was turned with his back towards the entrance, tending to the patients and making small talk. You hesitated only for a second before entering, the doctor not familiar to you.

“You will soon fly, miss, forget about walking,” he joked as he laughed breathily and that was what made you freeze. That voice was familiar…

The patient's eyes fell on you, and that was what probably made Baekhyun turn in his spot, wanting to check who was behind him. His eyes locked with yours and you saw that his manly features that were now in a friendly smile froze as he took you in.

How many seconds have passed with both of you staring at each other? Why was this so painful?

You knew it.

You. Knew. It.

That he would be there.

But you still came to his department. Of course, if there was any department closer to orthopedics, it was yours - physiotherapy. You and your colleagues were the ones who put into practice what the surgeons in orthopedics pieced together. The two departments were so vital to each other, they would be almost inseparable.

“The nurse arrived,” chimed in a friendly voice of the father. “Welcome!”

“Our doctor is already bewitched, we see,” chuckled the mum as she exchanged looks with her husband lying on the bed next to her.

You cleared your throat, heat rushing into your cheeks, matching your pink lipstick that complimented your face, and your personality. Baekhyun would agree, without hesitation. Sweet. Smart. Pretty. And real. Right now. In front of him.

“I came to tend to the patients, following the post-surgery recovery.” You said, still staring at Baekhyun wide-eyed. “If you could brief me in on the details, I would appreciate that.”

You weren't sure what, but something was so different about him. It had been too long. Comparing him to the Baekhyun you saw last many years ago, he was now more chubby in cheeks, seemed very healthy yet buffed up in a way. Sporting a clean haircut with brownish hair, you could now see how his face stood out. Sparkly eyes were still the same. Lips, that were now slightly parted at the unexpected sight of you, still so, so honest when he finally let out: “Well, damn.”

He was their main surgeon. The youngest in the department. The youngest ever to accomplish such an outstanding surgery. And as you learned while you were doing exercises with his patients, he was also “very, very kind and even more funny.”

You chuckled, feeling warm inside. Yes. Just like you remembered him, even though at the time you never acknowledged him that way.

“You know, all the nurses are swooning,” whispered excitedly the wife as you gently took her leg and pushed it towards her chest slowly before straightening it back up. “But the way he went silent when he saw you - wow. Dr Byun never goes silent on people.”

“Trust me,” added the husband, winking at you from the other bed. “We have been here for a while to know.”

“Yes, you have been here way too long,” you heard the voice from the doors and you felt your heart skip a beat. He was leaning against the doorframe, amusedly listening. The husband and wife chuckled, while you calmly continued working. “You are finishing up now, right?” he asked, the question now directed at you.

You looked at him from behind your shoulder. “Yes. We will finish in a few minutes.”

He nodded, looking at the exercises for a bit before he cleared his throat again and straightened up. “Could you please see me in the office before you leave?”

Humming an approval, he left.

And so, when finished and parted ways with the kind patients, you found yourself in his office, sitting on a chair opposite him.

“You wanted to see me…” you mumbled, not sure what to make of him constantly gawking at you.

He shook his head slowly. “Ah, sorry. I wasn't… I never knew you are working in this hospital,” he started.

“Well, I am,” you smiled at him.

“You knew I was here,” he stated. “Yet you not once came to visit me. And, and… all those years ago you disappeared…” he trailed off, slight hurt still present in his features.

Sure, first loves always hurt. It wasn't a shame for him to admit he never really loved before he met you, as much as it was difficult to believe it.

“Yes, I changed my university and my major, too,” you replied. “So I graduated later than you. I never knew you worked here until recently when you became the youngest surgeon to be successful at such a difficult surgery.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked, curiosity eating him away. He always wanted answers and he thought he would never get them. But finally, finally you were here. He could reach out and touch you, if he as much as wished so. “I thought we were friends.”

“Baekhyun,” you sighed before coughing. You knew he was asking about the past. “I mean, Dr Byun. It was a difficult stage in my life. I don't want to talk about it. I'm happy to know and witness you are doing well though. You became something I could never become.”

“You would have made it,” he replied passionately, speaking your name with such intensity it made you lock eyes with him immediately. “I had you all covered. I wouldn't have let you leave if you only talked to me!”

You were speechless as he slightly raised his voice, but not in a bad way. There was something bothering him, and you gently smiled at the hunch you were getting. “You always made fun of me, did you forget? You were my rival. I couldn't just be friends with you when you were the one having everything I ever wanted.”

Baekhyun went silent, heaving out a breath after your confession. “I never saw you as a rival.” Not even once.

“That doesn't matt-”

“I missed you,” he cut in, not letting his stare falter, and also sick and tired of keeping his emotions at bay when he had you in front of him. “You disappeared on me. Now you are the one who is doing the post-production of my work. Yet, you aren't even on the papers for the patients.”

“Yes, my colleague asked me to come in for her,” you replied, but your mind was racing at his previously uttered words. He missed you. It was true then. You knew it all along, and he confirmed it now. He liked you back then. Did he still like you now? “But I won't be coming back, don't worry. It was only for today.”

Baekhyun's eyes dropped on the paper in front of him. “I would like you to be the physiotherapist for my patients.”

You frowned and followed his gaze. “You want to change my colleague?”

“Yes,” he replied, his gaze carefully analyzing your reaction. “You belong to one of the best from your sort. So I want you with me. Would you accept it?”

You were seeing him everyday, just like back in university days. He was very busy, many times you caught him studying books and sometimes he came to check up on the exercises and the way you were practicing. He wanted to learn from you, so he asked you many questions, which always made the two patients chuckle. His funny remarks and entertaining commentaries made you laugh so much it hurt your belly and soon enough, he would ask you to come to his office where you would chat a bit longer.

Finally, you saw him in a different light. No enemy. No one to steal your place. Because he was complementing your work and you his. Drinking coffee or tea, you finally told him everything that was happening in your life and why you made the decisions that you made and you carefully explained him the way you saw him at the time.

Annoying.

Stupidly funny, which basically equalled annoying.

Handsome, which basically equalled ugly and disgusting.

Steady handed genius, which basically equalled handsome idiot…

Caring, which meant your rival.

But now, you could read it all backwards, and you would get the results that you saw now, but back then couldn't, blinded by your competitiveness. Funny, steady handed genius, caring, friendly, handsome and manly, and now in his attire, the title of the surgeon he worked so hard for, sexy.

He dared to make the first joke about your shaky hands after many years, and you laughed with him and showed him, that indeed, you were still just as shaky as before. But now you were shaking because of the butterflies he gave you. Oh yeah, shaky all for him. He would kiss away your tremblings whenever he got a glimpse of them... And you just trembled even more.

Seeing things now from a different perspective, you felt ashamed and embarrassed about how you used to behave around him back at university while he liked you.

It was almost two months after you first met at the hospital when he pulled you back into his office as you opened the door and were almost out. He closed it once he had you pressed against the wall next to it and his only approval of his doings was your bright, happy smile when he slowly leaned in and gave you a longing kiss. Smirking, he wanted to pull away, not having other intentions when you grabbed him by his cheeks and brought him back, wanting more than just a peck.

He was frozen for a heartbeat, but once back to his senses, he grabbed you by your hips bringing your bodies closer as he opened your mouth and explored more.

“I might have had a dream about you last night,” you whispered to him, chuckling again and he couldn't help but follow your chuckles because, goodness, this was actually happening. Once again, your sweet lipstick that tasted like strawberries, matched the colour of your cheeks and the stars in your eyes when you looked at him made him want to squeal from happiness. Because he had been dreaming about you all along.

Secretly dating in a hospital full of gossiping nurses was a bit challenging for almost one year. But it became so unbearable and his secret visits at your department went almost unnoticed except the fact that a doctor like HIM had no business at YOUR department. It was always the physiotherapist that came to the surgeon.

“Baekhyun,” you giggled when he once again stepped into the common room of the physiotherapy department. You were just fetching yourself some tea for the short break before heading back to your work. Your colleagues gave you quizzical looks tinted with suspicion, but they had it all confirmed in a way; you two being a thing. It was all over your faces.

“Excuse me, I will have to steal her for a moment. Need to discuss a patient,” he exclaimed shamelessly before waiting for you patiently at the doors as you made your way to him with your cup of tea. Once out in the corridor, he looked around before taking the hot cup out of your hand, putting it on the floor quickly and grabbing you by your waist to give you a huge, loud kiss. You should have fought with him but you were past that stage. Let everyone see.

The college sweethearts, was what you heard in the gossips after you talked to Hana, telling her how you and Baekhyun first met.

Looking up at Baekhyun as he was smiling at you affectionately before leaning in for another kiss, you could confirm that it was true. College sweethearts. And now, lovers.

“I love you,” he whispered into your mouth.

Hugging him, you meant it when you closed your eyes and your lips brushed his ear: “And I love you, my dear.”

Him, the best orthopedic surgeon.

You, the best physiotherapist.

The iconic duo of the hospital.

❤

hope you liked it!

CuriousCat Ask box is also open! Or comments!💕

#baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun au #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun romance #exo au #exo fic #exo fanfiction #exo ima #baekhyun oneshot #exo oneshot #kpop oneshot #kpop au

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stayarmytinyzenmoa-l · 4 years ago

Text

Glitched [Change Your Passwords]

Hacker AU

TW: Implied Stalking, Language

Pairing: (NCT) Unknown x Reader

Genre: Choose Your Story, Thriller, Suspense, Mystery

(3/?) [Previous] | [Next]

[Main Masterlist] | [Glitched Masterlist]

Word Count: 3.9K

Notes: Sorry for the wait on this one! I’ve been studying for my classes, but don’t worry I won’t leave you all hanging haha. Also I’ve updated the video links to go to a video archive blog of mine because the private posts were just not working out for me so I hope this will be easier! I ask that you don’t follow that blog only for spoilers as I’ll upload videos/other medias there first prior to posting the actual fics so you might either get spoiled or just really confused lol. But yeah, I hope you enjoy!!

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idol(s) mentioned/written/implied would never partake in or condone these actions. I would never wish any of these actions to occur to anyone mentioned in the writings of this story, nor do I wish any harm on them. The idols mentions in this work are meant to be acknowledged as no more than face claims and are not meant to represent the idols in any way.

You sat down first with Jaemin and Yangyang still in line for whatever it was they had decided to eat for lunch, you, meanwhile, decided on changing your passwords. Figure, you have since decided on calling him that since that’s what he told you to tell Instagram, seemed very adamant on it, and thus here you were, changing literally all of your passcodes and writing them down on the side of the paper bag you requested.

But as you did this the creeping feeling of being watched never left you. The security cameras were pointed the other way and no one, to your knowledge, was making an active effort to stare at you. It had to be related to that scare from earlier, you had nearly forgotten about it while in your lab. You finished changing the last passcode and looked down at your phone, the last passcode being the one to your Tumblr account, and you opened your messages, secretly hoping that maybe you’d receive another message from Figure, but none were presented to you. No doubt changing your passcodes might have disconnected you from the person as a whole. But, of course, right when you least expect it, things always turn around. Then in came a message from user011719.

https://videoarchivesatzml.tumblr.com/post/644877251145515008/glitched-change-your-passwords-video

You played the video again. Why did it just stop mid-sentence? You tried to play it again but the message, much like the one you received earlier, disappeared. Like it was never there in the first place. You wondered what could have happened, if you didn’t know what you did already you would’ve assumed that he cut the recording too soon or that he ran out of WiFi, but this couldn’t have been the case, it was too easy, too simple.

But you were more concerned about another thing Figure had mentioned. To your knowledge, no one had used your phone. The only person that it could’ve been was… Jaehyun. But why would he have done that? There was no purpose as to why he would do that.

“(Y/N)!” Seonghwa called out to you and you waved.

“Oh, hello!”

“Oh, thank god, you have your phone,” he sighs. “Did Jaehyun give it to you?”

“Yeah, he did,” you were surprised by how convenient Seonghwa’s timing was, but you had to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Why?”

“Bambam was looking through it.”

“He was what?!”

“Yeah, that’s why Somi isn’t around right now, she’s probably beating his ass. He’s been here the longest but Somi doesn’t really give a fuck,” Seonghwa shakes his head. “Don’t worry, he didn’t open anything, he was just being a bitch.”

“How did he know my password?”

“You really should change your password from 0000, (Y/N), it’s too simple,” Seonghwa laughs.

“Oh god, don’t worry I already changed it. What did he want anyway?”

“I’m pretty sure he was just being stupid, Bambam acts like that but he’s not a dick, he looked surprised himself when he got your password, I figured I’d tell you because that was just out of line.”

“It was, yeah, thanks for telling me,” you nodded your head.

“It was the right thing to do, I’m gonna go head out now, I have to make sure Somi didn’t go too far, I’ll see you back in lab.”

“See you,” he waved at you again and walked out of the food court. You pulled out your phone and stared at it, people seriously have no boundaries. Bambam had already rubbed you the wrong way but this was honestly such a dick move, you shook your head.

You hoped that he didn’t see your Instagram, Seonghwa said that he didn’t see or open anything but still. You’d have to thank Somi later, but you still couldn’t believe that he was so shameless with it. The nerve of some people, if this were a cartoon you’d be certain that steam would be blowing out of your ears, you would definitely give him a piece of your mind back in lab later. You looked at the DMs, if anyone else saw this they would be more than just suspicious, no doubt, or they would think that you were crazy and laugh at you.

But looking at these DMs, you thought back to the video. Figure mentioned that there was someone keeping him captive, and with this knowledge, you felt your heart rate rise slightly, and you could only think of the worse. But, despite this, you were at least able to screenshot that one part that he asked you to send to not.here127, something that you were glad that you did because you hardly remembered what else he sent.

You left the app and opened your notes app, then you tried to type out the screenshot. You got pretty far until about the second sentence, at that point the keyboard started lagging until it stopped working altogether.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself and restarted the app, trying to type out the message again, but still came the same result. You even tried restarting your phone altogether, but still, the same result. Until your keypad started moving itself, and you gasped loudly enough for some people to turn their heads. You dropped your phone on the table. “Uh, sorry, just family news,” you said aloud. Many of the people seemingly understood this and turned back around. But when you looked down at your phone, the lone sentence on your notes app read:

“Don’t. - Figure”

It was like you could feel your blood circulating through you. You had no idea how to feel right now, nor did you want to take the time to figure it out. Then it started typing again.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have hacked into your phone but… something came up, and it would just be safer for you if I did this. I’d tell you what it was but it would be better if I didn’t. Just… tell him in person, okay?”

You nodded your head slowly and picked your phone back up, reopening Instagram. Part of you felt more awkward now knowing that this Figure was in your phone, probably watching you as you typed, but you wanted to give what limited trust you could. Then another foreign feeling came over you, one you’ve felt since entering this facility, actually, and when you looked to the corner of the room, you saw the camera focused right on you, then you continued the conversation.

You stared at the camera that was still trained on you, then at your phone’s camera. You wanted to cover the camera, to be honest, but two things stopped you. One being how you would make fun of your friends when they did so, and two being how Figure had mentioned that the whole reason why he hacked into your phone was because “something came up.” Now, you aren't stupid. You could put two and two together and no doubt this “something” was related to this new person that not.here127 mentioned, Connect.

“So how’s your first day so far?” Jaemin asks once he sits down. You locked your phone and placed it back into your pocket.

“It’s great, it’s everything I could’ve hoped for, I just can’t believe that I’m finally here, you know?” You answered. Jaemin had his usual lopsided smile on while Yangyang sat down, he looked between both of you and a sly smirk crawled on his face. You knew that look, you knew what he was planning and you stomped on his foot before he could think about it.

“You okay, Yangyang?” Jaemin asks.

“Just fine,” he winces. “But how’s the hell lab, (Y/N)?”

“Actually not that bad… so far. But I shouldn’t jinx it,” you shook your head. “How about you, Lab V, right?”

“I think my mentor has it out for me. He’s always pointing out the little mistakes I make, it’s so nerve-racking…”

“Who’s your mentor?” Jaemin asks.

“Sicheng…” Yangyang frowns.

“Oh, you’re fine. He’s like that with everyone.”

“What does your lab work on?”

“Uh, it’s kind of weird,” Yangyang hums. “Some biomatter stuff.”

“You don’t know what you’re studying?!”

“I mean I do! But like, it’s weird,” Yangyang shook his head. “Technically, it’s called Biomatter Space Compression. But like, it’s weird because like… I think there’s more to it,” Yangyang frowns.

“So like what space does to the body?”

“Yeah, but like… you know what, forget it, I have no idea how to explain it,” Yangyang shakes his head. “Give me like a week to make sense of it,” he laughs.

“I used to be in that lab, and that’s probably the best way to explain it,” Jaemin sighs. A loud beeping noise goes off and Yangyang groans.

“Shut up,” your jaw drops while you fought back a smile. Yangyang reluctantly pulls out a device probably twice his age. “Is that a pager?!” You started to laugh.

“Yeah,” he holds it in his hand and shows you. “As soon as my supervisor busted this out I almost laughed out loud,” Yangyang chuckles.

“Oh god, that’s old…”

“I know, looks like he’s calling us all back in early, so I’ll see you after then,” Yangyang waves goodbye and leaves the cafeteria, leaving you and Jaemin behind.

“Ah, I guess lunch is almost over,” Jaemin stretches his arms back and yawns. “I’ll walk you back to the labs,” Jaemin tosses the paper bag into the trash bin and stands up, waiting for you to catch up to him. You quickly followed suit and walked next to him. You both exited the bustling lunch hall and walked back into the outdoor walkway, the grand structure never failing to amaze you but to be fair it is still your first day. You were both making a beeline for the labs, and you, of course, noticed the cameras discreetly following you the entire time. You soon approached your lab building and you both stopped in front of it.

“Thanks…” you didn’t really have much to say, what do you say in this situation? You both had only known each other briefly and never on the level to easily make small talk. You were about to go back inside when he said something rather peculiar.

“No problem… You must be pretty smart if you got this internship, you know. If you feel like something’s off, then it probably is,” he says. Then he walks off without giving you a chance to answer. You walked into the locker room with a heavy mind, putting your equipment back on and begrudgingly placing your phone back into the UV chamber, feeling at least a little more secure with your now changed passwords, then you walked back into the lab.

“(Y/N)!”

“Bambam,” the name came out harshly from your mouth and he shoots an awkward smile.

“You guys told (Y/N)?”

“Of course we did!” Seonghwa glares at him.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N), he grabbed it because it’s the same model as his phone and he ended up opening it since you both coincidentally had the same password,” Somi sighs. “0000, really?! You have important lab information on your phone and your password is 0000?!”

“I know okay? I changed it,” Bambam rolls his eyes.

“To what? 1234?” Jaehyun laughs.

“Well, when we’re done here, I’m gonna change it again,” Bambam crosses his arms. “Sorry about that, (Y/N), it was a genuine mistake, I didn’t open anything, promise,” he says. Your shoulders relaxed, you couldn’t help mistakes, and though this was an eerie coincidence there wasn’t much you could say anyway.

“It’s fine,” you shook your head. Somi’s explanation made enough sense, you think. “Just be more careful next time, I’d rather not have a complete stranger going through my phone, mistakenly or not,” you said sternly. The other members of the lab group looked at you with a strange expression, maybe you said it a bit too harshly, and truthfully normally you’d shrug it off but with the whole thing going on with Figure, or Connect, or whoever the hell you were DMing on Instagram is just getting to you. Then there were those damn cameras, both around the facility and on your own phone.

“Sorry about that, I’m just a little stressed,” you shook your head and tried to play it off. Bambam starts laughing out loud and you flinched at the sudden outburst.

“Oh, don’t worry, we get it! Seonghwa was worse when he first started,” Bambam’s worried look is immediately replaced with a happier one while he clapped the other one’s shoulder. “You should’ve seen him, he snapped at all of us.”

“I didn’t.”

“Oh, you did,” Jaehyun chuckles and moves to the lab table. “But now, with all of that out of the way, we have to work,” Jaehyun says. Everyone moved to their stations quickly, picking up where you each left off prior to lunch. You were put on data recording, something not precisely fun but also the only thing you could currently be trusted with. You were amazed by how easily they all worked together, you couldn’t help but feel like you were just stepping on their toes really, but every time they’d call you over they’d be nice about it at the very least. You each moved around the clock nonstop, you walking around the rather large lab table with the rather large laptop to each station as the main researchers called you over to record something, and them occasionally overlapping in their stations as each of the trials were carried out and analyzed.

“Alright then,” Bambam stands up and stretches his back. “I’m going home.”

“Already?” You asked while you looked at the wall clock, it read 7:48 pm, about an hour away from clock out time. You then looked at the laptop in your hands and saw about 3/4s of the spreadsheet filled. “Don’t we need to finish the rest of this today?”

“Nah, the rest of the trials take about a day to develop, so we’re good on waiting, or at least I am,” Bambam says. “You did good, rookie, don’t worry about it,” he says.

“Oh, thanks,” you cleared your throat.

“Be safe on your way home then, Bambam,” Jaehyun says without looking up from his microscope. “Don’t worry, (Y/N), we don’t have strict clock-out times,” he says while turning the bulb off on the microscope.

“Heading out too?” Somi asks.

“Yup, you all stay safe,” Jaehyun waves at them and walks out of the lab, following close behind Bambam.

“I’m almost done here,” Somi twists open the pipette drip and watches the chemical drop into the solution. “Just have to finish developing these samples and recording color changes, if you want I can take it from here, (Y/N),” she offers.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, (Y/N), you’ve been walking around all day, I’m surprised you’re not lightheaded from all the times you walked around here,” she says. “I’m serious! Jaehyun left so he won’t know,” she says.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Seonghwa shrugs while he closes the mice cage.

“You’re cleared!” Somi smiles.

“Thanks, Somi,” you had on a tired smile, it was true, your feet were killing you with all the walking you’ve been doing and you haven’t had a chance to sit down.

“Get home safe,” she says.

“Do you need a ride home?” Seonghwa asks.

“No thank you, I’ll just take the bus,” you said, hoping that Yangyang was still here.

“Okay, see you tomorrow then,” Somi waved at you while you left. You entered the empty locker room and shrugged your lab coat off and hung it in your locker, placing your goggles on the top shelf and grabbing your bag. Then you turned around and, with your breath held, opened the UV chest. You saw your phone resting undisturbed in the same spot you left it and you felt a wave of relief while you picked it up. Everything was still in order and you spotted the text from Yangyang simply stating that his team messed up an experiment and they had to redo the whole thing and told you to just head home without him.

“Well, great,” you shook your head and walked out into the darkened facility. “West wing…” you mumbled to yourself, following the signs quickly. You pushed open the double doors and walked out into the nighttime, the moon already in the sky. You opened Instagram and quickly read through the conversation again while you descended the steps, and you soon noticed the car parked in front of you, and as you walked over to it, someone stopped you.

“Oh, (Y/N)!” Jaehyun called out to you, he looked like he was just about to re-enter the building. “Perfect timing,” he says while holding up his phone.

“Oh, hello,” you said. He was the first person who came up to you out here.

“I forgot that you weren’t in our work group chat, we were planning on getting dinner together,” he shows you the conversation. You spotted Somi’s text saying that she forgot to tell you about it and asked if anyone had your number. “Want to come?” He asks. You quickly glanced at the car behind him, it hadn’t moved since you walked out and the windows were tinted.

[[Follow Jaehyun or Go to the Car]]

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skullrock · 5 years ago

Text

the campers, chapter two - Steve x Reader

gif by @harringtown

chapter two: the trainee

series summary:Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: Steve gets in the swing of things quickly, much to your dismay.

warnings: swearing!

word count: 2.7k

a/n: you can catch up on the series here! hope you enjoy this chapter!

===

Dustin and Steve are luckily paired into the same cabin, but they have different rooms. Steve’s roommate isn’t in when he goes to drop off his things, but Dustin assures that the man, Nico, is a cool dude.

“Not as cool as you though, Steve,” Dustin says, giving him a firm pat on the back. Steve smiles slightly and nods, appreciating the sentiment. Especially after being blasted by you.

“Are you going to tell me what’s up with you and Y/N?”

“No,” Steve says curtly, shutting and locking his room.

Dustin waits a few moments to see if Steve will fess up, but he doesn’t. Actually, Steve sets his jaw tightly, making Dustin even more curious. “I guess you guys don’t like each other, huh?”

“No,” Steve says again. He runs a hand through his hair. “Well - she doesn’t like me.”

“She knew you as Asshole Steve?”

Steve sighs heavily. “Yeah. She knew me as Asshole Steve.”

Dustin shrugs as they start to make their way to their orientations. “You’ll just have to show her how you changed, that’s all.”

Steve scoffs and shakes his head. “It doesn’t even matter.”

Dustin knows he doesn’t mean that, but he stops prodding for answers.

They continue their walk down from the cabins to the activity center, filled with classrooms, the cafeteria, and research labs. Steve enjoys the area already, happy to see the sun glistening off of the lake and the large hemlocks and oaks. The wind smells like pine and juniper, even in the summer, relaxing Steve’s mind. The woods do scare him now, there’s no denying that. But these aren’t the sinister woods behind his house in Hawkins. These woods are welcoming and cheery, bright and charming. Steve loves the open fields for archery and tag, the courts for basketball and tennis. He decides he’d really like to help out with the intramurals, giving up on the science aspect before even getting the chance to explore it.

Steve’s train of thought is derailed when he hears a sweet voice call out, “Dusty-bun?”

Dustin turns on his heel, a smile spreading widely across his face. He runs to meet her halfway, picking her up and twirling her. The girl laughs happily, and they kiss for a moment before Steve clears his throat. “Is this Suzie?”

“It’s Suzie,” Dustin says, sighly happily. “Suzie, this is Steve.”

She extends her hand and Steve takes it, surprised by how firm her grip is. She’s alright, Steve thinks. She’s got this Mormon vibe going on, but her smile is bright and her personality is welcoming. Steve’s happy to find out that Suzie is an actual person, and while she has no Phoebe Cates in her at all, she’s a perfect match for Dustin.

Steve third wheels as they continue to walk towards the activity center, again being pulled back to his thoughts. His mind falls on what you’d said earlier.

It feels like a rock sits in his gut when he thinks about camp when he was younger. He knows he was an asshole, he can feel it in his bones. He knows he hung out with Tommy H. and some other dickheads, and he has glimpses of memories of tripping, pushing, and pranking. But he really doesn’t remember a lot. He’s not sure if he’s from the concussions or because he willed those thoughts out of his memory - but they aren’t there. Only insignificant ones remain. Like how his bedsheets in his cabin were blue and red plaid; how he would wake up at 7:15 to take a walk before Tommy would wake up; he even remembers the bitter taste of the orange juice hitting his tongue at breakfast. It’s like his mind zeroed in on the insignificant things so that the hurtful memories stay in the back of his mind, sitting like a cobra, waiting to strike.

The trio arrives at the activity center.

“I’ll see you tonight, Steve,” Dustin says. “Don’t worry - you’ll do great.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Steve mumbles, anxiety twisting in his gut. “Nice to meet you, Suzie.”

She smiles brightly and starts off, but Dustin stays behind. “Hotter than Phoebe Cates, right?”

Steve forces a smile and nods, giving him a thumbs up. “You really did it, man.”

Dustin winks and walks away, leaving Steve alone and sweating bullets. He hates being alone - he can’t stand being by himself anymore. Especially now that he knows you’re on the loose here, probably plotting some sick pranks. But he forces himself to move his feet up to the orientation check in.

“Name?” a man with the nametag Josh asks.

“Uh, It’s Steve. Harrington.”

He gets his bundle - a nametag, a hat just like Dustin’s, a few lime green and yellow Camp Know Where shirts (reading LEADER on the back), a drawstring bag, some pens, and a notebook. Steve forces himself to not make a face at the shirt - it’s disgusting and it will certainly ruin his chances with the ladies. He’ll wear it - he’s just not happy about it. And, besides, the first girl he interacted with at camp nearly bit his head off, so maybe he shouldn’t be so worried about his chances. Maybe he should be worried about not fucking up this time.

He takes a seat in one of the large lecture halls, sitting as far away from everyone as possible. Nearly everyone who walks in waves at him and sits close, making Steve clench his fists and bounce his legs. He literally does not remember how to be social - it’s like a second language that he forgot. It pains him that he can’t strike up conversations like he used to, but those around him help.

“Hi, I’m Kara,” a girl his age says, sitting down right next to him. “Who are you?”

Steve blinks. “Oh - I’m Steve.”

She reaches out and shakes his hand, smiling. “You’re new, right?”

“Is it that easy to tell?”

Kara laughs. “Don’t worry, Steve - you’ll get the hang of the flow soon enough.”

Okay, maybe he does have a chance with some ladies.

You come into the room, eyes searching for Steve. You see your buddy Kara talking to him and you curse under your breath. She’s not supposed to be friends with him - she’s probably going to try to bone him in the next week, too, and you don’t want that either. You march up to Josh, the leader of leaders, and pull him down to your level. “You cannot - you will not - pair me with Steve Harrington.”

Josh’s brows furrow and he looks up at Steve, remembering him from earlier. “What, you scared of that dork?”

You groan and roll your eyes. “He was such an asshole to me - we used to go to camp together. He made my summers hell, Josh. I can’t be around him.”

Josh pauses and shrugs. “Okay, no problem, I’ll pair him with someone else.”

You sigh in relief and take a seat at the front, where a panel of veteran counselors sit. You try to be social, but the bile keeps rising from your stomach to your throat. You feel sick. You feel like this summer is going to be an absolute nightmare. And while you’re so far beyond who you used to be - that kid who couldn’t even look people in the eye - you’re scared that his presence will revert you back into that little girl. And it’s the last thing you want.

Josh claps his hands a while later, signalling the start of orientation. Steve shifts in his seat and pulls out his notebook and a pen. He doesn’t know shit about note taking, but he reckons he should try. You grab your notebook too, excited to learn and meet with the new folks.

“Welcome to Camp Know Where!” Josh says.

The room erupts in cheers and Steve can feel his old self creeping back in, the insult of dorks running through his head - as if he isn’t clearly one himself. But he composes himself, clapping lightly along with everyone else.

“Here at Camp Know Where, we want to create a welcoming, safe environment for our kids to explore the world through science, math, engineering, and technology.” Steve writes it down quickly, forming the acronym “SMET”, and giggling to himself.

“It’s our job as counselors to facilitate learning in a fun, positive, and energetic way. Through orientation, you’re going to meet your fellow counselors, learn some things, and find a designation at camp. We work with you! If you think you’d be better at doing science, we’ll help you find your place in the classroom. But if you’d like to work with intramurals, we can place you out in nature. However, we still want to make sure everyone has a good grasp at all activities, so you’ll be cycled through everything we have to offer at Camp Know Where.”

Steve writes down “science - intramurals - whatever - know it all.”

“Today, though, we’ll be doing some icebreakers, and then some brainstorming.”

The room erupts in groans, Steve’s perhaps being the loudest.

“Relax, they’re fun.” Josh beams and holds up a clipboard. “I’m going to split everyone off with a partner now. This will be your partner all through camp. You’ll do something with everyone, but your partner is like your mentor. The newer folks will be paired with someone who’s been here a while to help you get in the swing of things.”

You shift in your seat. Maybe you’ll make a new friend - maybe you’ll get along famously - it was an exciting concept.

Or, it is, until Josh calls out, “Y/N and Steve.”

The shit eating grin on his face is unimaginable. He looks down at you, smiling, eyes shining, as if to say, get over it. If you had a bat, you would have hit him with it. Your stomach sinks, it rolls, it twists. Your palms sweat, your head races, but it stays forward, eyes trained on the podium in front of you.

Steve feels the exact same, except his legs are telling him to get the hell out of there. He knows his protests will fall on deaf ears, and who would accommodate him, anyway? He rests his head in his hands as Josh continues to read off names.

“Alright, get with your partner. We’re going to play two truths and a lie!”

Phenomenal, you think. The worst icebreaker of all time, and it’s with Steve Harrington.

You push yourself up out of your seat and force your legs to move towards him, sitting down next to him but a chair away, keeping a distance. Steve’s okay with it - it actually helps him breathe.

The rest of the room fills with laughs and chatter, but you both stare in silence for a long while. Finally, Steve says, “So -”

“We aren’t friends,” you interrupt. “We aren’t friends now, we weren’t friends then, and in the future, we won’t be friends. Got it?”

Steve swallows hard and nods. Despite the dryness in his throat, he tries to apologize. “Look, I know I wasn’t nice when he were kids -”

You scoff. He continues. “But I swear to God, or whatever, I’ve changed. I’m not like that anymore. I - I don’t even hang out with Tommy. I just hang out with Dustin and this girl called Robin, you don’t know her - she’s pretty cool -”

“Save it,” you say harshly. “We can talk since it’s our job, but I don’t care about your life now, and I know you don’t care about mine.”

No icebreakers are played between you - the only thing played is an intense staring contest, which makes you angry and Steve horrified. Finally, Josh claps again, and then the real orientation begins. Josh hands out papers with scenarios on them, the goal being to brainstorm ways to demonstrate good leadership. Things like, a camper is obviously intoxicated - what do you do? and what’s the best way to improve a camper who isn’t doing well?

“Wait,” Steve says as Josh places the paper down. “Are we sw- switching partners?”

“Nope!” Josh says, popping the ‘p’. “Not yet.”

Steve wants to die.

To your surprise, Steve has some pretty phenomenal ideas for how to be a good leader. He even delves into how he would bond with the campers - he’d play sports with them, facilitate idea generating, become someone they can come to and confide in. He wouldn’t shut down their ideas, but rather help them expand on them. You think that he actually has some really good concepts.

“I just want them to trust me, you know?” he says quietly. “I want them to feel like they have a chance and that they can come to me for anything.”

You furrow your brows. “How’d you get these good ideas?”

“Dustin,” he admits, a bit sheepishly. “And some of his friends, too. They’ve helped me understand how to be better at listening and helping and understanding.”

You nod stiffly, not wanting to become too impressed with him. “Well, you have some solid ideas.”

Steve’s eyes widen and brighten. “You think?”

You shrug. “They’re not bad.”

And just like that, Steve feels like he has a purpose.

The room forms back together to go over their responses, and for the first time in his life, Steve offers his perspective in a public setting without being condescending or rude. The feeling of raising his hand was awkward and unknown, but he kept doing it, in love with the nods of support from the other counselors. Someone said he must have a knack for being a leader, and Steve beamed brighter than he had in months.

You, of course, hated it, but you had no authority to tell him to shut up. To you, it seemed fake and, frankly, out of nowhere. But you couldn’t help to agree with some of his points and ideas. You hated it.

You all break for the day at five. You practically run out of the room, gasping in the fresh air outside quickly. Josh walks past you and slaps your back, turning around to smile at you. “Have fun?”

“I will kill you.”

“Can’t wait!”

You’d lost your appetite after the hours spent with Steve, so you stay outside, sitting on a picnic bench and contemplating. You wonder if Steve is right when he says he’s changed. Past Steve would never say such things, would never even bother to put in an effort. But he was giving more of an effort than most people in that room, and it genuinely shocked you. Maybe Dustin had something to do with it - but that seemed improbable, too. The whole thing was so bizarre that it made your head spin and your knees weak.

You see Dustin heading inside and call out for him, beckoning him over. His brows furrow tightly but he walks over, sitting down across from you. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“What’s Steve’s deal?”

“Look, I hated him too,” Dustin says. “I mean, I really hated him. Like, I wanted to punch him -”

“I get it.”

“Right. But he’s changed. He got sober really fast a few years back and he hasn’t been the same since.” Dustin pauses, choosing his words carefully. “A lot of stuff has happened to him… and I think it’s changed him for the better. He’s been through a lot. He’s just trying to find himself now. That’s why he’s here.”

You sigh heavily. “You think he’s better?”

“I know he’s better.” Dustin smiles. “And that’s why I think you should give him a chance.”

“No way,” you scoff. “He never gave me a chance.”

“Shouldn’t stoop to past Steve’s level.” Dustin’s smile widens. “You’ll hurt your back.”

You roll your eyes. You don’t want this kid to be right, but you know he is.

“Just - give him a chance, please? He really deserves one. He’s my best friend… he deserves a shot.”

You sigh again. “Fine.”

===

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aellynera · 5 years ago

Text

Frayed Wires (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

FRAYED WIRES (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

(so i decided i may turn the drunk texts thing into a series? i decided at least to do one with Nathan because...well...it’s Nathan. the poem he quotes is Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley, who was incidentally married to Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein (or: The Modern Prometheus) which is also kind of appropriate for Nathan and anyway i sat down today and this happened.)

Word Count: 2122(ish)

Summary: All you want to do is sleep. All Nathan wants to do is talk.

Warnings: Language, naturally.

(Nathan’s texts are in bold. Your texts are in bold and italic.)

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

You reached blindly for your phone as it rattled on the bedside table. You had no idea what time it was but you did know it was the middle of the night, your phone should not be going off, and you had gotten entirely too little sleep. Like, maybe two hours worth. You were so tired and groggy that you made the mistake of checking your messages before you actually even thought about what you were doing.

Do you ever think about the meaning of life?

I mean like really think about it.

Why we’re here, why the sky is green and the grass is blue?

No wait that’s not right.

You sighed and buried your face in the pillow. It was 3:27 in the morning and Nathan was texting you. Which was just odd anyway, since he knew where your room was and it was much more his style to just walk in and start a random conversation with you in person.

He was probably drunk.

And now he could see that you had read the messages, so you were going to have to reply, or he really would show up at your door. Technically it was his door, it was his house, you just worked for him and stayed there, but the point was you were not in the mood to deal with him at all right now, and most decidedly not in the flesh.

You rolled your eyes before sending him a reply. You really should just ignore it, but...you were annoyed. Nathan was annoying. And it was now 3:30 in the morning and you were going to push a few buttons. Figuratively AND literally! your sleep-deprived brain cheered.

And things like why is water wet and air is invisible?

YES exactly see that’s why I want you.

I’m sorry?

Your brain. I want to pick you up. Your brain I mean. Pick your brain.

You just want me for my brain, huh?

You have a very nice brain.

Yep, Nathan was definitely drunk.

Not that him being drunk was anything out of the ordinary. But a few hours ago, when you were both in the lab testing some of his most recent ideas about the AI code, he had seemed...normal? Well, normal for Nathan anyway. He wasn’t irritated, he wasn’t condescending, he was actually (you honestly could not believe you were even thinking this) pleasant to be around.

You had been working for Nathan as his personal assistant for a few months. It was a promotion for sure over being a code slinger in a cubicle, but sometimes you honestly wondered what made you say yes to this bizarre existence. It was a beautiful house, beautiful scenery, interesting and highly intellectual conversations...when Nathan was sober.

There was also something you could never quite put your finger on. Something that was shifting as the weeks went on and you spent more time working alongside Nathan in the lab. As you spent evenings eating sushi and steaks and whatever else you were in the mood for that night (most nights, he actually let you choose the menu, you realized.) As you took afternoon walks around the estate, just taking in the scenery. As you debated various philosophies and ideas and theories and tried your damndest to prove Nathan wasn’t always right about everything. He almost seemed like he appreciated it all, but he would never say anything.

And you weren’t about to open that can of worms. Especially when he wasn’t sober.

How drunk are you right now?

On a scale of shitfaced to really fucking blitzed I would say I’m feeling no pain.

Jesus Christ. Well that was obvious. It was obvious just from the fact that he was texting you. Nathan was so uptight about security and data leaks and wiretapping and signals being hijacked (he’d admitted to doing it himself, so he did have a point) but had decided, after much insistence from you, that rigging the cell phones to only work inside the compound was an acceptable idea. It was so vast, you’d said, and what if something happened and one of you was all the way across the house or down in the lab, how were you supposed to let the other person know? It made sense at the time.

Now you were vaguely regretting it.

You could count on one hand the number of times you’d actually considered your boss to be pleasant to be around, and you still had your thumb left over just in case you needed to add to that tally.

At least personality wise. He was definitely pleasant to look at. Very pleasant.

You coughed and cleared your throat. That was not a line of thought to travel right now. The proper course of action was to get him to stop texting you.

A few minutes passed in glorious silence. Maybe a new, shiny thought had occurred to him and he was madly writing it down on a Post-It note. Maybe he just got bored and went to get a new drink. Maybe he’d finally just passed out and---

What are you thinking about?

Dammit. How to make you shut up, your brain snapped back. How to get you to let me sleep. How good your arms and shoulders look in that tank top after you’ve been hitting that punching back and you’re flushed and sweaty and…. Oh no. No no no. Stop it right now, brain.

Nathan hated to beat around the bush. Straightforward was the best policy with him, right?

How to get you to shut up and let me sleep.

Wonderful, glorious silence for exactly forty-six seconds.

Bro...that’s...so not cool.

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. Why were you participating in this? Why was he? You narrowed your eyes and looked toward a corner of your room. You hoped he could see you glaring into the camera that you knew was there and that he was watching while he was texting you. If not, you were sure he would watch it in the actual morning and you hoped the look was withering enough to make him think twice. Probably not. Because this was Nathan Bateman.

Your incredibly narcissistic, incredibly intelligent, incredibly attractive...stop it brain.

But he was pushing your buttons right back. Neither of you could ever really back away from an exchange like this..

I’m not your “bro”, Nathan. Please knock this shit off.

Dude, it’s a figure of speech.

I’m not your dude, either. Please just stop talking.

What’s wrong with dude. Dude is a gender neutral term, anyone can be a dude. Guys are dudes, chicks are dudes, dudes are dudes

Yeah, well, you’re kind of being an asshole, dude.

Dude. Chill.

Turning my phone off now.

No, wait, don’t. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.

Now that was...unexpected. Nathan Bateman just apologized to you? For being a drunk asshole in the middle of the night? Your eyes narrowed again. Suspicious.

You’ll stop texting me so I can go back to sleep?

No not that. I’ll stop calling you dude.

Oh for the love of...you closed your eyes and briefly considered the merits of hurling your phone at the surveillance camera.

Nathan, seriously, can we please just leave this until the morning?

A whole minute of wonderful, glorious, blessed silence this time. You couldn’t believe he might be considering this.

You were right.

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away

If a brain cramp was an actual thing, yours would most certainly be doing it now. You could barely even process it. He was drunk as hell and he was quoting poetry to you? You supposed you probably shouldn’t be entirely surprised, he’d quoted Oppenheimer once in a worse stupor (which you could only quantify because he had actually passed out that time.)

Are you fucking serious right now.

What.

Are you fucking quoting Ozymandias to me right now?

I am.

You couldn’t get the color of the sky right earlier, and now you’re just flawlessly quoting philosophical Romantic poetry at me?

I am.

You are not a normal person, Nathan Bateman.

What is normal anyway, besides really fucking boring? Who wants to be normal?

I would like to be somewhat normal, at least between the hours of midnight and 8am.

See, I knew there was a reason I liked you.

That was the second time he said that, you noted. You found it hard to believe. Nathan liked his work, his routine, his own brain. He liked talking about his work and how smart he was. Other than telling you that you were doing a great job, he barely handed out a single compliment, and if he somehow accidentally did, it was so backhanded you weren’t sure you could actually define it as one.

You mean you like my brain.

Well, yeah, your brain is fucking amazing. It has to be if you work with me.

I work for you, Nathan, not with you. But thanks?

No, no, see, that’s where you’re wrong. You work with me. We’re like partners. None of that employer employee bullshit.

Oooookay now I am one thousand percent sure you are completely piss drunk.

I am but that doesn’t make it any less true.

You could almost hear him saying those words in your head. You could see the way his eyebrows went up, the intensity in his eyes, the way he held his finger up to make the point.

The thought made your brain go slightly fuzzy, and not from exhaustion. Because now you were wide awake. Damn him.

Okay, Nathan, I’ll bite. What do I have to do to get you to stop doing this right now?

There was a pause before he answered, and you swore you’d heard a phone alert that wasn’t your own. It sounded like it was coming from...oh no, he wasn’t…

Getting tired of typing. Can I come talk to you for a while?

Are you outside my door right now?!

You heard the phone chime very clearly this time. He was, definitely.

I am.

You sighed, deeply. So deeply.

Is that really a good idea?

I think it’s a great idea.

Nathan, being serious here.

You could have sworn you heard him sigh from the other side of the door. He could have just come inside. It was his house, his keycard worked on all the doors.

But the door didn’t open.

So am I. Please can I come in? My mind just won’t shut off and I really am fucking drunk but talking to you is helping but tired of typing shit out, I’d rather say it to you.

I wanna see you. And tell you how sexy your brain is.

And that I like you for more than your brain.

And you knew in that instant there really was only one way to get him to shut up. And it was to just let him talk. It made sense, in an oddly Nathan kind of way. What’s the worst that could happen, really? He’d come in, you’d talk, he’d eventually pass out, maybe you could get a couple more hours of sleep, and then in the morning you’d either talk about it on a very deep cerebral level or you’d just pretend it had never happened at all.

A press to the door release button on the side of the table and the latch let go. The door opened, revealing Nathan standing on the other side. Still wearing what he’d been wearing in the lab earlier that night, black lounge pants and that tight white henley he seemed to love so much. The corner of his mouth turned up in the most miniscule of smiles, but it was there.

You were about to toss your phone back onto the bedside table, when the text alert went off again. You shot an exasperated look in his direction, but gamely checked the message.

Did you mean what you said before? About biting?

You glanced up at Nathan and saw that the sliver of a smile had taken over most of his face and his eyebrows had raised to emphasize his question.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t text him back. You just nodded your head to the empty spot next to you in your bed.

You had a feeling you weren’t going to get any sleep tonight after all.

~end~

taglist: @anetteaneta @rosemarysbaby13 @darksideofclarke @girlwiththemostcake

(taglist is open, let me know if you’d like to be tagged for future fics)

#oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x you #ex machina #ex machina fic #writing #fanfic #drunk text fic

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timextoxhajima · 5 years ago

Text

HOSTIS, Chapter XVI: Adsumo, Claim

Previous Chapter (XV: Vetus Flamma)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz) ft younghoon and eric

Genre (by chapter): drama, angst

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“i knew i wasn’t the person you needed”

kim young hoon.

you remember the way he always offered to carry your bag or books, though you were well aware he’d rather not.

younghoon was always known for his cold, aloof demeanor.

that is, until you start talking to him.

the first time you met younghoon, this strange feeling of queasiness and anxiety wrapped itself around your stomach, and it really wasn’t great timing when it was right after a full meal you decided to stuff yourself before extra class.

being at a buffet just a few days earlier had literally poisoned your blood and your system; it was just hidden for this period of time.

so when the food you had for lunch poured out through your lips because of the food poisoning you were yet to be made aware of, only to land on younghoon’s shoe in school, it would’ve been the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you.

if you hurled on lee hyunjae, you would’ve been happy to be be diagnosed with food poisoning.

but this was kim younghoon.

his popularity was matched with lee hyunjae though he was nowhere near as intelligent -- or scheming.

girls around him started shooting you looks of disgust and low whispers of you being inappropriate or inconsiderate began to drown your senses out.

the regurgitation also forced out a lot of your energy, and your legs were slowly turning into jelly with every passing second.

but before you could make a second stumble that would’ve allowed gravity to pull you into the concrete floor, younghoon holds your arm and keeps you upright.

watching him crane his neck down and lower his back to see your vomit painted chin was both reassuring but terribly harsh on your pride.

“are you alright?”

the loss of ego keeps your head hung low, and he takes it as a sign that you really weren’t feeling well.

ignoring all the girls staring at him dragging the smartest girl in school across campus to the medical bay was such a sight to behold, even for lee hyunjae.

you wish you could’ve seen it for yourself from a third person perspective.

not many people were aware of your little crush on younghoon, but you were always too busy trying to outdo lee hyunjae to even spare a second to day dream about him.

sometimes you felt shallow and materialistic for choosing younghoon to wear your emotions on, since you haven’t really spoken to him.

but if he didn’t know, it didn’t matter.

there was an expectation for younghoon to stay clear of you, especially when you were already known as one of two areses in school. yet younghoon found reassurance in that, in the way you stood out from the crowd against your will.

younghoon’s face and personality did it for him.

your competitiveness and ability to be the only person who could stand up against lee hyunjae did it for you.

lucifer had the best of both worlds, which made him all the more hate-worthy.

younghoon’s choice to invest in your friendship with him came as a surprise, but it felt like sunrise after a long night.

for six years you’ve been wasting your energy on proving yourself better than lee hyunjae, so having younghoon becoming both a source and and outlet for your energy to channel to and from...

it was nothing short of magical.

there was absolutely no way you could’ve forgotten the satisfaction that filled your lungs and your heart when the school found out you were dating the kim younghoon.

you never really figured out why it was such a shocker, though you were pretty sure the school was just surprised you chose kim younghoon, a not-so-smart student, in comparison to your must-top-the-class persona.

most of the time spent with younghoon was either spent tutoring him or having nonsensical conversations with him before you slept. those were the times you felt relaxed, you felt loose, you felt like you didn’t really need to win.

there was nothing to win anyway, not with younghoon at least.

you had convinced yourself that younghoon was sick and tired of your never-ending battle with lee hyunjae, one that drove a scandalous picture of you and the lab teacher all over the internet like it was a freeway.

younghoon must’ve known that the picture was just edited, for the teacher never got into trouble for it, only mild investigation.

but at least he was smart enough to save himself from the walking fire of fury, that was you, and he used this chance to run.

love was never really a priority in your life until younghoon came along, so even when that beautiful, flowery garden part of your life had gone, your priority naturally fell back on beating lucifer at his own game.

or a game that the both of you thought was a great idea to start.

love was just a fickle thing, and all it did was to make you weak.

and if you were fighting ares himself, you had to be your best ares.

ares is not weak.

ares is brutal and cruel and you had to be just that in order to beat another.

sitting across younghoon, five years later, in your favourite cafe with the evening sun disappearing behind the buildings of the city, felt like a fever dream.

a dream you yearned had happened five years ago, not now.

two bowls of soup and a bowl of truffle fries get served to your table, and younghoon thanks the waitress with a slight nod. the waiter recognises you, so she just gives you a small smile.

younghoon being the gorgeous man he is, catches her attention again, and you smile at your food when you felt her reluctance to leave the table.

“i must say,” he hands you a soup spoon after checking it for shitty cleaning. “i have high expectations for this chowder.”

“i just had this yesterday,” the pepper bottle shakes in your hold. “surely that must mean something?”

the slightly amber lamp dangles above your table, and the heat from the lightbulb was making the skin on your nose and forehead feel warm despite the early autumn wind gushing about outside.

the pillars inside the cafe make it feel like you were in a warehouse, so every time someone appears behind a pillar and walks somewhere in your sight, younghoon would always look up to see if you were looking at anybody you knew.

there was a bell hung on the door of the cafe near the cashier’s counter; which was located behind the wall you were sitting against.

the sound makes you wait for someone new to show up in your span of vision, and if nobody appeared, you’d know that they ordered takeaway.

“how’s working at the hospital? i heard you say you’ve been working with uncle for about a month?”

“i think it’s about five weeks or so, yeah,” the tiny circles of oil on the soup gets pushed around while you stir it, and younghoon adds pepper to his serving after tasting the truffle fries. “it’s alright... i mean, it’s just everything i expected.”

“so, no surprises?”

surprises.

“oh,” a snort runs through your throat as you take one mouth of your soup. “there was one big surprise--”

“lee hyunjae?”

the name strikes a chord in you, and you weren’t too sure why.

“god must hate me to put me in the same room as him... we started working for the hospital on the same day, and his office is right next to mine.”

“huh,” younghoon hums, blowing on his spoon of soup before having it. “you must’ve been really upset when he showed up.”

“‘upset’ isn’t a strong enough word to describe how much i wanted to shove a pen down his throat. consider disgusted, angry, furious, disappointed, resentful, hateful--”

“should i be worried you work in an environment where those feelings should not be involved in--”

generous laughter escape your lungs and younghoon’s smile encourages you to return to your food.

“but otherwise, it’s a blast. i love my patients, i love my mentors and the nurses and the colleagues-- they are all so endearing and patient.”

he nods while chewing on the ingredients in the chowder.

“what about you? what are you doing now? i mean, we haven’t spoken in five years.”

“i’m a salesman, guess i figured out a way to use my face to the best of my ability.”

“oh, god,” a chuckle rings in the air between you as you dip your spoon into the bowl again. “that must’ve worked in some magical ways. has anybody tried to get your number?”

“do i really want to answer that when you already know?”

a cheeky smile greets you when you look up from your food, and you shake your head when you realise you could still read his eyes the same.

“i don’t suppose you’re romantically involved in anybody now?” he asks. there was an absence of... care and concern he used to have back then.

he wasn’t nonchalant about it, but you could tell that five years was adequate for your relationship with younghoon to turn completely stagnant.

there was no longer any hint of love in it, even if he did still care for you.

he could still love you, but if he was, he was doing a damn good job at hiding it.

but that question.

what does ‘romantically involved’ really mean to you?

on one hand, you believed your heart belonged to the lovable, enthusiastic intern who was going to leave in about three weeks.

yet your body resigns itself to another man, one whom you’ve hated nearly half your life, the same man who took younghoon away from you, even if it wasn’t completely his doing.

“uh... define ‘romantically involved’.”

younghoon looks at you with slightly furrowed brows and confused eyes, sending one piece of truffle fry into his mouth.

“...it worries me that you had to ask that. i’ll rephrase it; do you have anybody you’re interested in?”

“well, there’s this really cute intern working at the neuro-research department.”

“intern? he’s younger?”

“age is just a number.”

“fair play.”

the jingle of the bell hanging on the entrance door rings gently, and your eyes travel down to the soup.

“he’s super enthusiastic and there’s just something about him that’s so... comforting. i see him and i think about nothing but sunshine and warmth and laughter. he’s just... so cheerful, compared to whatever i’ve been used to.”

a pause, and you look up at younghoon, your peripheral vision not seeing anybody walk out from the wall you were sitting against.

“he sounds like someone you really want in your life. i’ve known you long enough to know what kind of person you’d might be attracted to. i guess the man’s lucky enough to have attracted someone with a complete opposite personality.”

eric’s face comes to mind, and your heart starts to do tiny flips when you recall the way his eyes fold when he smiles. the warm rumble of his voice when he speaks. the harmony that he sings when he laughs.

“that sounds strange, doesn’t it? we kissed at a party once and--”

“you kissed the intern?”

“it was at a party and we were all slightly drunk--”

“i don’t recall the last time you had enough to be drunk--”

“let me live, younghoon!” you feign a hit across the table, and he chuckles softly, dodging your little attack.

the bell rings again, and a teenage couple walks in this time.

“frankly, i am surprised about one thing,” half his bowl was empty now, and you reach over to jab at some fries with a fork.

“what is it?”

he pushes his air out from his eyes and presses his fingers into his cheek, leaning one elbow on the edge of the table.

“that you didn’t end up with lee hyunjae.”

the scoff that came out garnered the attention of that young couple, but you couldn’t care less.

“lee hyunjae? of all people, why would you think--”

“because he’s the only one who was ever able to be on the same... pedestal as you.”

pedestal. potential. day one.

“without him, i don’t know if you would’ve pushed yourself so hard. i know you always had a thing against your parents not spending enough time with you, i thought you’d break the tradition of becoming a doctor because of that.”

“yeah, well...” the chowder calls out to you. “hyunjae or not, i would’ve become a doctor anyway.”

silence.

it drags on long enough for younghoon to finish nearly the rest of his soup, and there was a weighted feeling of... fear in your chest.

your heart was thumping, though not at a fast pace.

eric’s smile was floating around in your head, but the way younghoon looked at you when he said that name planted a seed inside you.

you worry for awhile if that seed meant anything at all.

“y/n, i have to be honest with you about something...”

the truffle bits melt in your mouth as you sit back.

“i didn’t dump you because i believed you were with the teacher.”

“oh,” a gentle giggle exits through your lips as you lean forward to get another fry. “i know that. you dumped me because you were sick of me always at lee hyunjae’s throat and we were always fighting--”

“no, i dumped you because i knew i wasn’t the person you needed.”

the muscles and nerves in your body halt, and your eyes slowly travel up from the fries to his.

“and i highly doubt this intern is going to be it either.”

the words come together in your head, but they felt so alien on your tongue.

“but you just said that he’s someone i want--”

“i was not what you needed, and he isn’t either. you want him, but you need someone else.”

a gulp pushes itself down your throat and your temples tighten as you pull away from the bowl of fries, and your eyes return to the bowl to finish whatever was left in it.

“i’ve got no clue how neither of you saw it, but there’s literally nobody else better for the two of you than each other.”

your lips either remain entertaining the spoon that was travelling in and out of your mouth, or pursed so tight, you cut off the blood circulation to them.

“the only reason why the two of you could do so well in school was because you had each other to push both ends. i had my fair share of interactions with lee hyunjae, i’m well-aware of the kind of person he is when he’s not trying to get one score higher than you, even when you’ve already scored full marks.”

“do you still want the rest of the fries? i--”

“y/n,” he pulls the leftover fries away from you, and you hiss childishly at his move.

“so don’t listen to me, but you’ve been avoiding talking about lee hyunjae for the last twenty four hours and believe me when i say this, if this was five years ago or any time before that, you wouldn’t have missed a second trying to convince me that he’s the shittiest person on earth.”

“maybe i just decided he’s not worth my time--”

“so why were you wearing a male’s dress shirt yesterday?”

oh, fuck.

“it could’ve been someone el--”

“and the foundation on your neck doesn’t do much under this lighting, especially since it’s been a long day for you.”

your face was heating up not because of the lamp above the table, but the fact that younghoon was able to see right through you.

even you couldn’t see through yourself.

“but whoever said it was him who di--”

“there’s literally nobody who would have the damn guts to do things like that to you besides him. i’m pretty sure not even your sunshine intern would do it if he’s as cheerful as you make him to be.”

stop.

“if it’s anything i learnt about you, it’s that you wouldn’t let a man do anything to show that he claims you.”

please stop talking.

“but someone’s gone ahead and did just that... and when i heard uncle talk about a doctor lee yesterday, it just... hit me.”

stop. talking.

he finally stops and returns you the fries that you no longer had the appetite of finishing.

“so, it wasn’t hyunjae. you haven’t said one bad thing about him since i saw you yesterday. tell me that if this was you five years ago, you would’ve done the same.”

i wouldn’t. because i hated him.

the silence starts to eat you out when the confusion sinks in even further.

why must he say all those things to mess you up even more?

there was nothing he said that wasn’t true, though you wished you could flat out deny everything.

but he’s seen it all without even telling him anything, and you start to wonder if it’s been there all along, but you chose to ignore it.

all you wanted was an aphrodite, but why does she seem like she’s drifting further and further away?

by the time younghoon returns you back to the safety of your house, he was well-aware that the conversation from before had some effect on you, for he pulls you into a tight hug after walking you to your door.

his scent wafts through your nose and you shut your eyes to take it all in.

what would it have been like had hyunjae not torn him away from you?

then again, younghoon was the one who tore himself away from you on his own accord.

“call me if you need anything. anything at all.”

he releases you, hands still on your shoulders.

“i’ll still love you the way i always did, but i know for a fact that i’m not the one you need in your life.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter XVII: Et Universum Parallel

A/N; welcome to hell guys this is where shit starts to roll i hope you guys are ready cause my ass isn’t LMAO.

#the boyz fanfic #the boyz #hyunjae #younghoon #timetohajima hostis

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