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thesoobfiles · 12 days ago

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a dance of two swords – l. haechan (m)

word count: 6.4k

summary: boy meets girl. boy falls in love with girl. girl happens to be an assassin sent to take care of boy. yk, classic love story.

prompt: “all that blood looks good on you. It really brings out your eyes!”

tagging: @kookthief @honajoong

a/n: thank you so much to everyone who voted and helped me decide to make this one part! this is my first time writing for an idol, so I hope this doesn’t go terribly wrong! but it’s an AU (heir!Haechan x assassin!reader) so I think there’s room for a few OOC moments ☝️ also, i never give the voice behind the comms a name so feel free to imagine it as any NCT member or idol of your choice! most importantly, this is NSFW! if you’re a minor, please don’t interact!

Thursday, Sept. 1, 20XX

“Whoever chose this bright ass yellow as the school-issued uniform needs to be studied…” You mumbled under your breath as you begrudgingly put your arms through the blazer of your school uniform. Smoothing out the wrinkles in a frustrated fashion, you looked over your appearance in the bathroom mirror before a voice rings out through your comms.

“(Y/N), relax. Remember, everyone else is wearing the same uniform, so it’s easier to blend in… Besides, isn’t it nice to wear an official high school uniform? Or have a real first day of school? You know, experience a normal childhood?”

Let’s rewind, shall we? You aren’t necessarily your run of the mill senior high school student. No no, you’re an assassin. Born and raised in the confines of an underground facility your home country swore they didn’t have anymore. Extensively trained in hand-to-hand combat as well as quite skilled in a few close-range weapons such as the sword, the nunchucks and your personal favorite, the dagger.

You were flown out to South Korea so you could handle a special issue that your Korean counterparts were unsuccessful with: taking care of Lee Donghyuck.

Lee Donghyuck, often called “Haechan” by friends, is the son of an incredibly successful man. Lee’s father runs Spade Inc. It’s like if you were to take Google, Samsung and Apple, roll them into one company, and put one man in charge. Obviously, this means that Lee and his entire family are worth tons of money; however, no one has been successful in tapping into this gold mine.

You were about to change all that.

“Short skirts were never really all that desirable to me, in all honesty. God, i’d be flashing the entire student body if I were to bend over and tie my shoes…” you replied with distaste as you returned to your reflection in the mirror, spinning around so that you could fix your bow.

“Besides, it’s much easier to kick ass in my polyester.” You say, walking out of the bathroom with your bag slung over shoulder.

“If you say so…look alive, target is approaching.”

You look up just in time to see the man of the hour: Lee Donghyuck.

He’s walking straight for you, or at least it looked like he was. He makes a sharp turn as soon as you open your mouth, and it feels like he walks past you in slow motion. You turn your head in his direction with your mouth still slightly agape, he looks at you from the corner of his eye and he smirks as he walks into the men’s bathroom.

You close your mouth, clear your throat, and pretend that wasn’t the tiniest bit embarrassing.

“Or not�� my bad…”

“Yeah, it IS your bad…” you whisper with a bite as you check your watch.

“12:20… lunch period is almost over…” you sigh as you walk away from the bathrooms and toward your final class. Luckily, you share this class with Donghyuck, so you’ll see him later. You actually share 3 out of 4 classes with him, but you can’t really take Sex Ed III with him since each block is separated by gender. A precaution taken by the school to avoid unnecessary ruckus in the classrooms. No matter how old they get, boys will be boys.

You push the door of the classroom open and scan the room for potential threats. Unless two girls giggling in the front left corner counted as a threat, you were in the clear. You settle into a seat in the back corner and whip out your laptop. The seat is by a window and it’s in the very last row, the best seat for emergency exits and observing your target. No matter where Donghyuck sits, you’ll have the perfect visual of him.

As soon as the warning bell rings, you feel someone plop into the seat next to you. You turn your head to your right and suddenly, you’re seeing the visuals of Lee Donghyuck a LOT closer than you initially expected. You mask your surprise the best you can, blink twice, and return your focus to your laptop.

Boy, the photos do him no justice whatsoever. This man is nothing short of drop dead gorgeous.

“Not even a hello, darling?” you hear from your right.

You furrow your eyebrows and whip your head towards the voice, “Excuse me, do we know each other?” you ask incredulously.

“Not yet. I’ve seen you in a few of my classes and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Lee Donghyuck, but you can call me Haechan.” He flashes you a smile with his right hand extended in your direction.

At the same time, a familiar voice rings out through your comms.

“Damn, could you sound any more enthusiastic?”

You roll your eyes in response and take his hand. You’ve read plenty of documents about Donghyuck and his personality, so you know that he likes it when they play hard to get. You extend your hand in his direction and introduce yourself.

“Kim Suji.” You lie through your teeth as you watch him tenderly grab your hand and kiss the back of it. You’d be a liar if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat.

“A Korean name?” he asks curiously. Which is entirely fair because you don’t look like you have a single Korean bone in your body.

“From my mother’s side.” You immediately respond.

“아 그럼 수지씨의 한국어를 어때요? (Ah, then how is your Korean?)” Haechan asks with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“나쁘지 않아요, 동혁씨. (Not bad, Donghyuck.)” you reply with a smile as you retract your hand and face your laptop.

“Wow, he really tried you like that… Good thing you took those Korean classes over the Japanese ones…”

You chuckle as the final bell rings.

“Good afternoon, class. My name is Professor Ryu and welcome to Advanced Song Writing!”

You can feel Donghyuck still looking at you, but he looks way when the teacher starts calling names for attendance.

You get through the class with no issues. You focus on paying attention and before you know it, there’s only 5 minutes left of class.

“Alright class, thank you for bearing with me through the first day formalities. At the end of the semester, you’ll have to turn in a song that follows the criteria in the rubric I mentioned earlier. I’ll post it for everyone’s convenience.”

The teacher pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, looking at the clock on the back wall of the classroom.

“Alright, there’s only a minute left. Everyone, look at your desk mate. This person will be your partner for the end of semester project. Please take good care of each other and let’s get along! That’s it for today's class! See everyone tomorrow!”

The bell rings seconds after her ending comment and the classroom erupts in noise. Friends high fiving, acquaintances exchanging numbers and peers introducing themselves to each other.

“Alright, Donghyuck. It looks like we’re part-.” You stop short as you turn your head to find an empty seat.

“What the…” you look down at his desk to find a note.

Sorry Suji... Needed to slip out for a business meeting as soon as class was over, but here’s my number ~

010 – XXXX - 0606

- Haechan <3

“Wow, writing love letters already?”

“Oh, zip it. You already know he’s a huge flirt. He must’ve slipped out when the bell rang…” you say to the empty classroom as you place your belongings in your bag and make your way out of the room.

“Donghyuck getting past YOUR senses? Oh, someone alert the press…”

“He’s clearly a challenge… I mean, you wouldn’t fly out a foreign operative for kicks and giggles…” you reply matter-of-factly as you put your wireless earphones in, so people don’t think you’re talking to yourself on your walk home.

“Alright, you got me there. I’m waving the white flag of surrender. No need to so sound defensive…”

You roll your eyes for what feels like the 10th time today and hit up the convenience store on your way home. If there’s anything you love about Korea, it’s the super easy meals sold at the CU. You grab a few triangle kimbap and bring them to the counter. You give the cashier a couple bills and bow before taking your leave.

A short walk leads you to the front door to your “home.” You unlock it and scan the room for any signs of tampering. Not that there’s much that can be tampered with. Staying in an apartment used only for short term missions, there isn’t that much to see. One room. A foldable table and chair, a mini fridge and a really crappy couch. Being met with no signs of tampering or potential threats, you put down your bag, store the food in the fridge and sign off on comms.

“Talk to you tomorrow, (Y/N). Stay safe.”

“You too.” You remove your earrings and put it in the special box given to you when you were first given this assignment. You place the bow with the hidden camera right next to it, lense face down.

You plug in your laptop and hit the showers. After your shower, you sit down at the dinner table with your kimbap and look at the note Donghyuck left you.

“Referring to himself as Haechan when we aren’t even well acquainted… what a forward guy…” you scoff as you enter his number into your phone.

To: 010-XXXX-0606

“Hey, it’s Suji. Is this Lee Donghyuck?”

You hit send and take a bite out of your kimbap.

“Not bad…” you utter to yourself when you already feel a vibration.

From: Lee Donghyuck

“No need to government name me… Aren’t we friends? ~”

You scoff. This boy is way too friendly for his own good.

Suji: “We just met today and you’d consider us friends?”

Donghyuck: “That’s how you get closer to people you want to get to know better ~”

Suji: “Aren’t you supposed to be in a business meeting?”

Donghyuck: “We just wrapped everything up… Your timing was quite perfect actually…”

Suji: “When and where do you want to meet?”

Donghyuck: “Aw, do you miss me already? ~”

You needed a moment to pause and let the audacity of this man sink in. You couldn’t help but laugh because in all your years of performing missions, never have you met someone who has come off as strong as Donghuck. Well, you know you’re a beautiful girl. That’s normally why you’re assigned to cases where the target is male. They more often than not fall for your looks, which sooner or later leads to their demise.

Suji: “For the project, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck: “You’re no fun </3 We can meet tomorrow after class. My place, unless you don’t feel comfortable enough?”

Huh, even when he’s flirting, his manners are still intact. You’re reminded of your first meeting with Donghyuck, when he grabbed your hand and tenderly placed his lips to the back of your hand… You didn’t show it, but it made you a bit nervous. This is the first mission you’ve been on where the target is not only in your age group, but he’s totally your style.

“Maybe in a different life, we could’ve been lovers…” you whisper as you draft up your next text.

Suji: “That’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

Donghyuck: “See you tomorrow ~”

Friday, Sept. 2, 20XX

You walk into class with sunglasses on your head and a mask over your face. If you’re going to Donghyuck’s house today, it’s best to complete the mission as soon as possible. Obviously, you don’t want videos of you entering the premise on file, so you need a low-key kind of disguise. Honestly, you weren’t expecting to have the chance so soon, but the sooner the better.

The classes zoom by and before you know it, you’re in your last class. Your butt just met the chair when you hear a concerned and already rather familiar voice.

“I didn’t have the opportunity to ask, but are you feeling sick today? We can meet at a later date if you aren’t feeling well…” Donghyuck.

“It’s just a precaution. My allergies normally act up around this time.” You brush off his concern as you lower your mask in the classroom. You offer him a smile and he immediately brightens up.

Unlike the other classes, this one doesn’t breeze by so easy. It’s possible that the only reason they went by so quickly was because you had no one to distract you, but this is the only class where you and Donghyuck sit next to each other. It was hard to pay attention to the teacher talk about the importance of bridges when there was a face that you know inspired hymns right next to you.

You put your laptop to sleep. Why? So you can stare at Donghyuck’s reflection on the empty screen. It’s not like you cared about your grades here anyway. You weren’t staying for long, but wow he truly is a stunning individual. His tan skin that was completely free of blemishes, his focused face that still managed to hold a softness despite his well-defined features, his fluffy brown hair that fell into his eyes, but gently caressed the top of his blazer…

It isn’t until Donghyuck looks down to type on his own laptop that you’re snapped back to reality. You quickly jot down some notes on your laptop, so it looks like you were paying attention and not like you spent the last few minutes spacing out to Donghyuck’s face.

Closing your laptop, you decide to whip out your notebook instead. At least you can’t stare at him that way…

The class is beginning to wrap up when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn to Donghyuck and raise your eyebrows curiously.

“I can drive us to my place after class if you aren’t busy.” He offers sweetly.

“Sounds great.” You smile, pulling your mask back up.

You walk out together and head to the senior lot. You know Donghyuck drives a sixth-generation Mercedes-Benz SL, but he doesn’t know you know, so you just follow behind him. You reach his car and he opens the door for you and guides you in.

“What a gentleman.” You muse as you sit in the passenger seat. He smiles and walks to the driver side.

“I’ve been told girls like being the passenger princess.” He chuckles.

“You’ve been told? It’s not first hand experience?” You joke.

“Well, I don’t normally drive girls around haha…” he replies as he starts the engine.

You were about to make another quip when he rests his hand on the back of your headrest. Good thing your mask is still up because the speed in which your jaw snapped shut is equivalent to that of a mouse trap. The reason? You’re currently looking at Donghyuck reverse out of the student lot, one hand on the wheel and his neck turned towards the rear windshield.

Your eyes travel from his face down to the veins on his neck, only to land on his left hand that rests so nicely on the material of the steering wheel. You could imagine a few more places where his hands could rest just as nicely…

You snap your head towards the windshield and close your eyes. You don’t remember acting this horny even as a pre-pubescent teen during your formative years. What the hell is wrong with you??

“The drive isn’t that long, but it isn’t short either, so you can put on some music if you’d like.” He offers.

Donghyuck’s house is far too nice to be located in Seoul. His family lives in the same house they’ve lived in since he was born, which is in Goyang. Roughly a half hour drive from SOPA, nothing crazy.

“Thanks…” you reply softly. Picking up his phone from the console, you type in a song you know he’ll love.

Girl, close your eyes Let the rhythm get into you Don’t try to fight it There ain’t nothing that you can do

“You like Michael Jackson??” he asks, clearly shocked.

“Of course. His songs are nothing short of legendary.” You reply with pride as you queue a few more songs and return his phone to the console.

He laughs in disbelief and starts singing along.

“I wanna rock with you. All night ~”

Your eyes widen at the sound of his voice. You knew he could sing but boy, is he a damn good singer…

You’re learning so much about Haechan that the files can’t teach you… All you had to go off of were a few recent pictures and pages of facts about him. It’s easy remembering the fact that he’s a Junior Black Belt holder or that he has a passion for music, but hearing him sing in real time is something akin to an out of body experience.

Haechan serenades you all the way to his house and all you can say is that calling it a “house” is a grave understatement. He lived in nothing less of a castle. It was clearly passed down from generation to generation as you couldn’t possibly imagine a building of this stature being built in today’s day and age.

He pulls up to the front door of his not-so-humble abode and parks. Exiting the vehicle, he walks over to your side and opens your door once more. This time, extending his hand towards you so he can help you out.

“Wow, this dude must’ve had some serious etiquette classes drilled into his brain. I cannot imagine a normal guy doing all this jazz for you…”

You can’t help but mentally agree. Unfortunately, the men of today are so incredibly uncultured, it’s past the point of humor.

“Welcome home, Young Master Donghyuck.” You hear an aged voice say as soon as the door swings open.

“Good afternoon, Hajoon.” He replies with a soft smile on his face.

“Welcome to the Lee residence, Miss Suji.” Hajoon turns to you and does a 90 degree bow.

“Thank you for having me.” You reply, returning his bow.

“Cameras are down.”

You smile weakly as you walk through the front door of the Lee residence. You adjust the sunglasses on your head and lower your mask while slipping off your outside shoes and replacing them with the guest slippers provided by Hajoon.

“Young Master Donghyuck, Miss Suji, would you care for a freshly squeezed beverage?”

Before you can even open your mouth, Haechan speaks for the both of you.

“That would be lovely, Hajoon.”

Hajoon bows and turns to a doorway that you assume leads to the kitchen.

Haechan begins walking to the foot of a spiral staircase, probably leading you to a room where you can work. He turns to you with a smile.

“You MUST try Hajoon’s fresh lemonade. It’s the best you’ll ever have.” He winks at you as he proceeds walking up the staircase.

You stand there at the bottom, doe eyed.

“…i-if you say so…” you stutter.

“Did you just stutter?? (Y/N), you do remember that this dude flirts with anyone and everyone, right?”

You give the side eye to no one in particular, but you know who it’s for. Of course you knew that, but you were just a girl after all. No matter how well trained you were, is it so crazy to believe that a little attention from a hot guy could have this effect on you?

“Do NOT let your personal feelings get in the way of the mission.”

Good thing Haechan is a good few steps in front of you, so you reply a bit snappily.

“Please, I’m not 5. I’m perfectly capable of following instructions.” You mumble under your breath. Although, you weren’t really as determined to end his bloodline as you were in helping him further it…

You reach the top of the staircase and follow Haechan down the hall to a room with double doors. He pushes them open, and you’re met with a very large and beautifully decorated room. Bookshelves lining the walls, paintings adorning the walls without, a wooden table in the center of the room with one larger-than-average couch and a tray of snacks in the center.

Haechan spins around with his arms wide open in a “ta-da” like manner. You raise your eyebrows and nod in amazement. You almost forgot that his parents are incredibly well off and have the funds to buy 50 more houses like the one you’re currently standing in.

“Hajoon will bring the drinks up when he’s done.” He states as we walks over to the couch, urging you to sit first.

You smile at him and take a seat. You on the right-hand side and Haechan on the left-hand side. He immediately reaches for a cracker on the tray and offers it to you. How nice. You move to grab it and he quickly yanks it out of your grasp. You furrow your eyebrows and try again only for it to be moved just out of your reach.

You squint your eyes at Haechan, and he chuckles. He’s holding the cracker in his left hand, dangling his arm over the couch, taunting you. With every inch towards Haechan, his back reclines further and further into the couch until his head lies on the armrest. You put your left hand on the back of the couch for leverage and stretch out your arm once again in an attempt to grab the snack.

He giggles and it all happens so fast. Your left arm slips, he drops the cracker and you face-plant right into his chest.

“Shit, is your physical trainer a brick wall??” you ask as you prop yourself up with your left hand once again. Your right hand flies to your nose and rubs it for some sort of relief.

Your eyes are still squeezed shut in pain as your right hand hovers over your nose. Haechan is silent even after you pose your question. You open your eyes and you see that you’re only a few inches from his face.

You freeze in place, right hand still over your nose as you lock eyes with the man you were tasked to kill.

His eyes bore into yours and they sparkle as they do.

“Hi gorgeous.” He whispers as he smiles at you.

You grab a pillow from beside you and smoosh it over his face and no, it has nothing to do with your heart racing a mile a minute. Death by asphyxiation. You can work with that.

Well, you could’ve worked with it until there was a knock at the door. Even though it was slightly ajar, you assume it’s protocol to knock before entering.

You roll your eyes and remove the pillow from Haechan’s face, allowing him to sit up and fix his appearance. Although, he misses his hair because it still looks an absolute mess. But you have to admit, he looks quite cute with his hair all ruffled… Hajoon enters shortly after his knock on the door and he sets the lemonade down onto the table. He bows and takes his leave, shutting the door as he does.

All of a sudden, you hear static. That’s not good. There must be some kind of frequency blocker in the door and now there’s no way for you to communicate. That’s fine. You don’t need him to complete your mission.

You finally remove your right hand from your face only to see blood covering your palm. Your eyes widen, but Haechan is the first to speak.

“Oh dear…” He hurriedly grabs a napkin from the snack tray and hands it to you. You grab the napkin from Haechan, and you retrieve a hand mirror from your bag. Assessing the damage, you carefully wet the napkin with the condensation from the pitcher of lemonade and gently wipe at your face. It’s really quiet, which is unusually for Haechan, so you look up only to see him already staring at you.

“All that blood looks good on you… It really brings out your eyes!” he awkwardly compliments you.

He has fear in his eyes and yet you burst out laughing.

You’re too busy laughing to respond. It isn’t until you’ve got all the giggles, laughs and chuckles out of the way when you speak up.

“Oh wow, I didn’t know you were so funny…” you trail off as you wipe a tear from the corner of your eye.

His chuckles are unsure, but his nerves give you confidence. So, you put a hand on his thigh, and his breath hitches.

“A compliment is hardly the first thing that comes out of the mouths of people who’ve made me bleed…” you say cryptically with a sly smile on your face.

He blinks at you with wide eyes,

“What? Has no one ever flirted back with you?” you ask, turning your body so you’re facing him. You inch closer and closer and he inches further and further until his head lays on the arm rest once again.

“Or are you frightened about what happens to people who’ve made me bleed?” you smugly inquire as you place your knees on either side of Haechan’s pelvis, his legs straightening onto the couch cushions in response.

You rest your right hand on Haechan’s cheek and it’s hot to the touch.

“What’s the matter, Haechan?” you pout and rub his cheek with your thumb.

“In all the times we’ve talked, you’ve never been this quiet. Tell me… what’s on your mind?” you say as you continue to caress his cheek.

He stares up at you, in an almost awestruck manner.

“You called me Haechan…” he whispers.

You break out laughing for the second time in the last 10 minutes because truly Lee Donghyuck must be one of the funniest creatures on Earth.

“Oh Haechan… regardless of the ambiguous nature of this conversation, you’re surprised that I called you ‘Haechan’? You are such an interesting creature…” you decide as you retract your hand from his cheek and put your full weight on Haechan’s hips.

You reach over to the table so you can grab a cracker, since you were robbed of it earlier. You hear him inhale and release a shaky exhale. You return your eyes to him and see that his eyebrows are knitted, and his eyes are closed.

“You are so incredibly pretty, Haechan. As anyone ever told you that?” you question, and he whimpers in response.

“You talk a big game for someone who folds so easily…” you note as you fiddled with your shoe.

“No one’s ever taken charge before…” he breathes out.

You quickly release the dagger stored in the sole of your shoe and swiftly press the cool metal to the flesh on Haechan’s neck.

His eyes flutter open and never has a man looked more attractive in your eyes.

“Even in the face of danger, you are the most gorgeous person I’ve ever laid eyes on.” You say in amazement as you slowly return to sitting on Haechan’s pelvis, keeping the blade close to his throat.

“Oh my god…” he groans, bucking his hips into yours.

You tilt your head to the side. You can’t tell if it’s the thrill of having his life in the hands of others or if it’s the praise that gets him, but you’re determined to find out.

“Is that what you like to hear? You like hearing about how pretty you are?” you ask and he hurriedly nods his head, eyes still closed.

“Let me see those beautiful eyes, baby. Talk to me.” you purr, moving his bangs to the side and he slowly opens his eyes. They’re a bit glossy but they sparkle like they house the stars of a thousand galaxies. You can’t help but hold eye contact with the boy. It’s almost as if you’re stuck in a trance, until his voice breaks you out of it.

“Please…” he whispers, giving you the most sincere pair of puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Please?” you ask, encouraging Haechan to use his words.

“Please do something. Anything.” He pouts and he begs and you can’t help but mentally decide you would give Haechan absolutely everything he ever wanted. Although, it shouldn’t be too much given he probably already has everything he wants.

“My sweet boy…” you start, diligently removing the dagger from his throat and placing it on the table. You place your hand on his chest, right where his heart his, and you can feel it going a mile a minute. You smile, tracing shapes over the fabric of his sweater vest with your fingernail.

“It’s yours.” You finish and close the distance, placing a sweet kiss to Haechan’s pouty lips. He reacts immediately and his hands fly up to hold your cheeks and deepen the kiss. You flatten your hand on his chest and run your other through his soft locks. You lightly grasp at the roots and he moans into the kiss. You gently bite his bottom lip and he opens up immediately. It’s like playing a game. Everything you do has Haechan reacting like no tomorrow.

You pull apart to catch your breath and you see a string of saliva stretch between you and Haechan. He gazes up at you with an indescribable look in his eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that…” you whine as you push him away and cover his eyes.

“Someone seems a little shy.” He teases with a smirk.

Honestly, as a girl who was raised and trained to be an assassin, you don’t have much sexual experience. Which isn’t crazy to acknowledge because you’re a killer. You bring pain, not pleasure; but there’s something about Haechan that makes you feel emotions you’ve never experienced. All you know is that you wanna take care of him. You take a deep breath to steady your racing heart.

You stay like this for a few breaths until you lift your hands to peek at Haechan and find that he’s already looking back at you with those big, beautiful doe eyes. He smiles up at you and gently holds your wrists.

“Sweetheart, what do you wanna do? If you want to take charge, I’ll follow your lead, but if you don’t know what to do, I’ll happily take the reigns.” He offers supportively as he turns his head and kisses your palm.

“I… I want to have control, I just don’t know… how...” You cast your eyes down, deep in thought.

“But I want to try.” You say, determined. Haechan smiles at you, with… pride? You don’t analyze it too much. You remove your hands from his eyes and lower them so that you hold his face in your hands. You come face-to-face with your target and state your mission.

“Lee Haechan, I’m going to take care of you….” You bring his face mere centimeters from yours and place a quick kiss on his lips, “…my way.”

Your hands slide down from his cheeks, over his neck and land on his chest. You open up his blazer and stare at his sweater vest.

“First, we need to get rid of this…” you note. In the blink of an eye, you retrieve your dagger and with one swift move, Haechan’s sweater vest is torn right down the middle. His eyes widen, looking between you and his ripped sweater vest. His cheeks start to warm. You look down and note that his white button up doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

“Perfect.” You smile to yourself as you open his shredded vest the same way you did his blazer. Compared to the aggressive way you tore his vest to shreds; you slowly unbutton his shirt all the way down to the last button that stops right below his navel. You hear Haechan’s breathing start to get a little heavier. You smirk as you place your hands on his abs. He gasps at the contrast your cold hands offer to his warm abdomen.

Putting your hands on either side of his waist, you lean forward. You start with his cheeks. You kiss the beauty mark right above the corner of his mouth, moving to the mark near the junction between his jawline and his neck and you couldn’t miss the mole right over his Adam’s Apple. With every kiss you leave, Haechan hums in response.

You travel down from his neck to his chest. You slide your hands up his chest and your fingers rolls over his nipples, drawing a high-pitched moan from him. You pinch them and roll them between your fingers, each action pulling a delicious sound from Haechan. He mewls, and moans, and gasps, and every noise is like music to your ears. When you’re done, you leave a delicate kiss to each nipple, which has Haechan’s back arching.

Once again, you use your fingernails and slowly rake them down his abdomen, causing a shudder to rise up Haechan’s spine.

Tapping your nails against the metal of his belt buckle, you look up towards Haechan and like every other time, he’s already looking at you. His eyes are so glassy that you think a tear might fall if he were to blink.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll put you out of your misery now.” You promise, already working on taking his belt off. As you work to remove his belt and unbutton his pants, he’s already raising his hips. You smile as you slide his pants down his legs and toss them to the side, leaving him in his boxers. Well, his boxers and the top half of his school uniform.

There’s a wet patch on his boxers and it doesn’t take a genius to understand why. You rub your pointer finger over the patch and Haechan groans in response. He looks down at you with a pout on his face.

“Sorry, sorry.” You apologize, lowering his boxers to his thighs. Freeing his erection, you’re met with the sound of it slapping against his stomach and Haechan gasps.

“It’s so unfair that every part of you is so pretty…” you say, gathering the pre-cum from his tip and rubbing it down his shaft.

“Oh my god…” he whispers. With every movement that your wrist makes, he becomes more and more vocal. But it’s not enough. Gathering a small pool of saliva in your mouth, you let it drip out of your mouth and onto his cock. He hisses at the contact, gripping the head of the couch with his hand. You place a tender kiss to the tip of his angry cock, drawing out noises Haechan didn’t even know he was capable of producing.

Since you’ve successfully managed to lubricate him, you get to work. You rub your thumb over the tip and start pumping your hand up and down. His moans truly sounded like heaven on Earth.

“Oh, just like that… please please please…” he pleads. You smile because clearly you’re doing something right. You move a bit faster, making sure you give the occasional squeeze to the base of his cock. Haechan starts writhing.

“I thought you said… I thought… you didn’t know…” he starts losing the ability to speak in full sentences.

“I don’t.” you say, understanding what he wanted to say, “but I appreciate the ego boost.” You quip, beginning to massage his balls with your other hand.

“Ohhhhh yessss…” he drawls. Keeping a consistent pace, you see that his stomach starts to contract, and his breathing gets quicker.

“I’m gonna cum!” he shouts just in time for the ropes of cum to shoot onto his stomach. Your hand stills, unsure of what to do or where to put it so you just continue holding him until he stops cumming. Haechan’s breathing is still heavy but it starts to slow as he comes down. He raises his head and looks at you with hooded eyes.

“You… are a liar…” he huffs out and drops his head again. You start giggling because, who doesn’t like to get praised? You stare at the milky substance on Haechan’s stomach and curiosity gets the best of you. You bring his softening cock to your lips and lick at his tip, collecting any leftover cum with your tongue.

“AH!” he exclaims as his hips buck up towards your face. His head shoots up from the couch and he finds you with a thoughtful expression on your face.

“Sweet… but a little salty…” you note, smiling at him. He lets out a scoff of disbelief as he puts his weight onto his elbows. You let go of him and reach for the napkins on the table to clean him up. He watches you work diligently to wipe the cum off of his stomach. When you’ve got most of it off, you grab another napkin and gather the condensation from the lemonade pitcher, similar to what you did when you were cleaning your bloody nose. You’re almost done when Haechan raises his hand and pats your head. You pause and look up at him with wide eyes, which prompts him to speak.

“How do you feel?” he asks softly as he starts gently caressing your hair.

“Shouldn’t I be the one to ask you that?” you laugh and finish up by putting the used napkins in the little trash bin by the couch. He playfully rolls his eyes.

“I’d be a bit better if someone didn’t mangle my sweater.” He smirks as an expression of guilt crosses your features. You awkwardly chuckle, looking down at his abdomen to see his mangled sweater hanging open. He ruffles your hair, causing you to close your eyes.

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.” He jokes, removing his hand from your hair. Haechan shrugs off his blazer and sweater vest, leaving him in his unbuttoned, white button up. You sit up, wanting to give him space.

He drapes his outerwear over the back of the couch and faces you. There’s a look in his eyes, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Haechan puts his hands out in front of him, flipping them so that his palms face upwards. You look down at his hands and then up to his face. He smiles, he briefly glances down at his hands and returns his gaze to you. Getting the message, you rest your hands in his. He closes his hands in response and gently caresses your hand.

It’s nice, but then in the blink of an eye, he has you on your back and your hands pinned above your head. You stare up at him, surprised by this turn of events. He smirks and comes close to your ear, his hair tickling your nose.

“Now… it’s my turn to take care of you ~”

#nct #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #nct dream #nct dream x reader #lee haechan #haechan #haechan x reader #haechan x you #haechan smut #nct oneshot #haechan oneshot #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut

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springwitch8 · 10 months ago

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sweet daisy and the violet witch (agatha harkness x fem!reader)

tip jar / masterlist

summary: you are a baby witch in a tough situation. when a mysterious, brooding woman offers to teach you how to control your powers, you can't refuse. but what does she want with you? and... what do you want with her?

warnings: smut (18+), captivity and bondage but reader isn't exactly unwilling, mind-reading, sexy magic, humiliation, praise kink, dirty talk, enchanted strap, squirting, agatha is dark ofc, reader has a shitty sexist ex-boyfriend but he's only there to set up the story

notes: MY FIRST AGATHA FIC! this is set pre-westview and it is just pages upon pages of detailed, heretical, homosexual filth. it's been a long time coming, and i'm really proud of it. hope you guys enjoy 💜

tears streamed down your face as you stormed out of your now ex-boyfriend's house. the relationship had run its course, you knew that. but you never expected the breakup to be so ugly. he called you a "crazy bitch" and threatened to call the cops on you for destroying his living room.

and you didn't even do anything! at least, not on purpose.

the fight lasted an hour. you told him you wanted to break up, and he didn't take the rejection well. he started cursing you out, following you around the house as you frantically gathered your belongings.

now, you could handle the insults to your appearance and the comments about all the other women who supposedly wanted him. but when he started making sexual remarks—talking about how "frigid" you were and lamenting that he never fucked you hard enough to put you in your place—you lost it.

"shut up!" you cried, and the house shook with the impact. a wave of daisy yellow light burst from your chest and wreaked havoc on the living room. every lightbulb in every lamp shattered. the tv fell off the wall. books flew off their shelves and hurtled toward your ex's head. the carpet was singed. a few cracks appeared in the ceiling.

your ex ducked to avoid the flying books, then fell to his knees. he was uninjured despite the destruction, but his pride was wounded. you used his moment of weakness to grab your bag and rush out of the house, running down the street as fast as you could while he shouted obscenities.

you ran for a minute or so before a black car with tinted windows pulled up beside you. you froze in fear, but quickly relaxed when the driver rolled her window down. she was an older woman, and a beautiful one at that.

long, dark waves framed her face, and concern was written in her expression. her left arm extended out toward you, and you could see she was wearing a deep purple blazer.

"hey, hon. i heard some commotion from down the street and then saw you running. are you alright?" the woman's low voice was soothing, and you felt much safer already.

"i'm okay, thank you. i just broke up with my boyfriend and it didn't go over well," you admitted, your shaky voice betraying your anxiety about the whole situation.

"well, i can't let you walk all the way home, sweetheart. how about i give you a ride?"

you considered her offer. it was cold and rainy outside, and your apartment was a good distance away. this woman was a stranger, but she put you at ease for some reason. besides, much worse people than her could be out at this time of night.

"that would be great. thank you so much. i'm y/n," you said, stepping into the passenger seat.

"agatha harkness," the good samaritan replied, offering her hand to you. you took her hand and shook it, noting the delicate veins running up her long fingers. her thumb stroked the back of your palm for a few seconds, and the skin tingled when she stopped. "lovely to meet you, dear."

you told her your address and she put it in the gps, beginning the 15-minute drive to your place. agatha was pleasant and kind as she listened to your story, how your boyfriend had treated you and how you'd reacted—omitting the magical details, naturally.

when the car pulled up in front of your apartment, you thanked agatha and gave her a hug. she smelled like violets and old books, and you hesitated to pull away. when you did reach for the door handle, it didn't budge.

it all happened in a flash: purple smoke obscured every window, your hands and feet were bound by glowing purple ties, and agatha smiled. the smoke cleared, and you were not at your apartment. instead, the car was parked in front of a small black house with gothic accents.

"wha—how—" you stuttered.

"i'm glad you asked. it was a simple illusion spell. couldn't have you getting suspicious, could i?"

"s-spell?"

"yes, darling, a spell. i'm a witch. you are, too, but i'm sure you already knew that."

you looked down at your lap and shook your head.

"oh? that's a surprise. i mean, i knew you weren't the most sophisticated witch, but i figured you'd at least have a grasp on what you are."

your mind reeled at the revelation. although she had basically kidnapped you, you felt a strange pull to the woman in the driver's seat. your gut told you to trust what she was saying: you were a witch.

"tell you what, baby witch," she offered, a mischievous glint in her eye. "if you promise not to run, i'll untie you."

what choice did you have but to obey her? you didn't know how to control your powers, and sooner or later, they were going to get you in trouble. agatha knew more than you did, and she was teasing you with the irresistible chance to understand your magic.

"i won't run," you whispered. you felt agatha lift her magical binds.

"good girl."

---

agatha did what she always did. she promised to teach you how to master your powers, lulled you into a false sense of security. and at night, when you were sleeping soundly in her bed, she would try to take your power.

it only took her a couple of days to realize that she couldn't access your magic. she tried everything, but your bright yellow power was totally incompatible with her mystic purple—a fountain of light, untouchable by other witches.

oddly, agatha accepted this. unlike any of her previous conquests, you inspired a curious fondness in the older woman. you were smart and beautiful, powerful yet unassuming. and you were hers to teach, to touch, to protect and corrupt. with some training, you would be a formidable ally.

as for you? you were neither her victim nor her partner, but something in between. you abandoned your old life and happily crawled into bed with her each night—so she could keep an eye on you, she said.

"women like us will never be safe in this world, y/n," she would whisper into your hair. "that asshole saw what you can do, and he didn't like it. you're too precious for the stake, honey. i have to keep you close."

agatha hated your ex, but she could use him to channel your rage. as you worked through the emotional toll of the breakup, you worked on your telekinesis. as you processed the extent of his manipulation, you learned the basics of mind control.

one day, agatha wanted to see if you could hold your own against her. she was anxious to know if you could protect yourself with the strategies she'd taught you.

"you ready, superstar?" agatha asked, looking you up and down hungrily. you were wearing the outfit she had picked out specifically for this occasion: a black mesh halter top with a little yellow skirt, "ideal" for mobility. "don't worry, i'll go easy on you."

"i think so," you responded, trying to settle your nerves and anticipate her first move. but it was hard to focus when she stared at you with dark eyes, hair pulled back into a ponytail and arms crossed, emphasized by her tight purple t-shirt.

"don't get distracted, now," a sultry voice whispered from behind you. agatha had teleported, and you were too focused on her arms to notice. "that's rule number one."

you shuddered at the feeling of her hot breath in your ear, but kept your guard up. purple strings began to flow from her fingertips and wrap around you. you swiftly floated up and out of her hold, yellow sparks carrying you across the room.

you landed with a flourish and agatha raised her eyebrows, impressed. she didn't let you rest for more than a second, though, as a blow of her magic struck you right in the chest.

you stumbled back, but quickly retaliated. with a snap of your fingers, agatha was knocked off balance by a burst of yellow. she smirked and waved her palm. but this time, you remembered to block, crossing your arms and projecting a white shield in front of you.

"so you have been listening to me," she cooed, flying toward you and pushing you up against the wall with her magic. "you always seem so preoccupied when i'm teaching you, like your pretty little mind is off somewhere else. tell me, do i scare you?"

the answer was complicated. yes, agatha scared you, but not in an unpleasant way. it was a thrilling kind of fear that left you breathing hard and wanting more.

"no, ma'am," you decided, using her momentary surprise to push back against the magic pinning you to the wall. agatha withdrew.

"hmmm, 'ma'am.' i like the sound of that," she drawled as you awaited her next move. "you're doing well, baby witch, but you forgot one thing."

in a split second, you were lying flat on your back, purple threads binding your hands and feet to the carpet. before you could even attempt to react with magic, agatha was on you. she hovered above your restrained form and leaned in.

"rule number two: protect your mind," her voice above you was the last thing you heard before being plunged into darkness.

---

when you came to a few minutes later, agatha was still on top of you. she wore a coy smile as she watched the purple swirls disappear from your eyes.

"welcome back, sweet daisy," agatha husked. "after reading your mind, it seems like you're not as sweet and pure as i thought."

you struggled against her restraints, but they didn't budge. you were definitely losing the fight, but with the way she was looking at you (like she wanted to ravage you), you didn't much care.

"you wanna know what i saw, pretty girl?" she taunted, and you swallowed thickly but did not respond. "i saw myself on top of you just like this, pumping my fingers inside you while you screamed out for mercy."

well, your secret was out. but agatha didn't seem displeased; on the contrary, she was basking in your humiliation like a true sadist. you felt wetness gathering in your panties at the sight.

"i saw myself bending you over," she continued, using her powers to lift you off the ground and maneuver you so you were bent over the couch. "punishing you for forgetting your spells."

she swatted your ass once, hard, and you whined pathetically.

"i saw you kneeling between my legs," she said, once again manipulating your body into that position. "listening to my directions, being my good girl."

on your knees, you nuzzled agatha's leg in embarrassment, and she stroked your hair. you stayed like that for a minute before agatha lifted you into her lap, spreading your legs wide.

"and i saw you grinding in my lap, squirming and whimpering like a needy whore," she concluded, running her hands up and down your inner thighs as you straddled her. "what do you have to say for yourself, honey?"

you were at a loss for words, now incredibly turned on and burying your face in her neck. her fingers twitched and you were pushed out of your hiding place, her magic forcing you to face her.

"your mind is so dirty. how are you feeling? excited?" before you could respond, she slipped her hand between your legs. she lifted up your skirt and traced your slit over your panties, inhaling sharply when she found them soaked. "oh, you are. you just can't control yourself around me, can you? all hot and bothered. do you need me to take care of you?"

"yes, please," you begged, wiggling impatiently in her arms. tendrils of purple magic snaked around you, tickling your skin and preventing you from moving any more.

"much better," agatha hummed as she restrained you. she laughed seeing your helpless face. "don't pout. i'm going to touch you, make you feel so nice. but you need to sit still and take it like a good girl."

you nodded, and she rewarded you by vanishing your top. she took your breasts in her hands and kneaded them, working her way to your nipples. when she rolled them between her fingers, you yelped.

"shhh, i know, you're so sensitive," she cooed as she toyed with you. "you're in for a treat, babygirl. have you ever used your powers to play with yourself?"

she knew the answer. of course you hadn't. you didn't even know how. but she reveled in the way your face scrunched up in wanton embarrassment at the mention of touching yourself.

"allow me to demonstrate," she said, removing her hands from your nipples and whispering a latin word under her breath. you gasped when a purple buzz settled on your buds, replicating agatha's touch without physical contact. "feels good, hm?"

you merely whined and tried to grind against her, frustrated when you couldn't move an inch. she seemed to know what you needed, though, as your skirt then disappeared in a flash of violet.

"as much as i love that little skirt on you, honey, it's in the way of what i really want to see," agatha drawled, and you held your breath with the anticipation. with no warning, she gently lifted your hips up toward her, leaned down, and latched onto your clit through your panties.

"oh my god!" you moaned as she suckled through the fabric, putting delicious pressure on your bundle of nerves. then she sat up again and returned you to your position on her lap, once again whispering the incantation to continue stimulating your clit.

"i'm flattered, but there's no god here. just me," she smirked, watching you writhe in tortured pleasure. "alright, superstar, you with me? watch this."

she held two of her fingers up to your eye level, and your eyes grew wide as her fingertips lit up. with a predatory grin, she thrusted her fingers upwards, and you felt them inside you. you couldn't suppress your sinful moan.

"don't you see how powerful we are? i'm not even touching you, and you can feel me in your pretty little pussy," she mused, drunk on her power over you. "and if i do this," she curled her fingers just right, and you screamed as she stroked your special spot, "i can feel you squeezing me. like a tiny piece of heaven."

while her fingers continued thrusting and curling, her power pumping in and out of you, she used her other hand to explore every inch of your body. she touched you like you were the most precious work of art, a soft and delicate masterpiece in her arms. her touch and her magic were all over you, and you felt yourself getting close to the edge.

"won't be long now. you're so easy, sweetness," she sang proudly. her free thumb found your clit and rubbed tight circles on it, direct touch compounding the pleasure from her magical suction. not even a minute later, your release swept over you. "there you go."

when you came, agatha lifted the restraints so she could watch your legs shake and your core convulse. she kept pumping her fingers until she heard you whimper helplessly, squirming away from her invisible touch. she then withdrew the magical stimulation and ran her palms up and down your sides to comfort you.

"how was that, sunshine?" she smiled as she checked in with you. you gave her a breathless kiss, pouring all of your passion and admiration for the older woman into her mouth. her eyes sparkled with adoration as she looked at you, fucked out and struggling to stay upright in her lap. she inched closer to whisper against your lips. "i want to fuck you."

you weren't entirely sure what she meant, but you knew from your recent mind-blowing orgasm that anything was possible through magic. you started to get antsy in her lap again. you stood up on shaky legs and started toward the bedroom.

"don't be silly, superstar," agatha laughed as she effortlessly raised you into the air until you were hovering bridal-style in her arms.

agatha swiftly brought you up the stairs and into her bedroom. she laid you down on the bed and nudged your legs apart with her magic before retreating to the closet.

"do you know what this is, princess?" agatha asked, emerging from the closet with a large purple strap-on dildo in hand. you swallowed thickly at the sheer size of it and nodded your head.

"it's a strap-on," you replied sheepishly.

"correct, smart girl. this is a very special strap-on, though. do you know why?"

"no, ma'am."

"well, i want you to think of it as my cock. because when i put on the harness," she snapped her fingers and the strap was secured between her legs, "i can feel everything."

she gave the dildo a few rough strokes and groaned to illustrate her point. you trembled in anticipation. agatha was going to take you with the biggest cock you'd ever seen. and she would be able to feel the warmth, the wetness, the fluttering of your most intimate place with her own flesh. you unconsciously spread your legs wider.

"ready for me?" agatha crawled on top of you and dragged the tip of her cock through your messy folds, getting it lubricated. you nodded tentatively. "i'll be gentle. wouldn't want to break my delicate little flower. at least, not yet."

the second her tip breached your entrance, you inhaled sharply. it was going to be a tight fit, even though you were soaked. agatha recognized your discomfort and leaned down to kiss your lips sweetly. with another latin whisper, you felt those soft kisses all over your body, on every part of you all at once—even your clit. this relaxed you, and agatha gave you a few more inches.

"you're so tight," the older woman breathed, marveling at the sensation of feeling your wet warmth around her. "and all mine, little witch. you'd like to be mine, wouldn't you? i'd dress you every day in those mini skirts and no panties, play with this pussy all day long."

agatha's words worked exactly as she intended. you lost yourself in the hazy fantasy of being hers, and she penetrated you all the way. you both cursed as she bottomed out.

"good girl, taking my cock so well, letting me fill you up. let me just..." she trailed off and pulled out before thrusting back in at a new angle, hitting your g-spot and conjuring stars behind your eyes. "there she is."

once she knew you were okay, agatha seemed to lose the last of her restraint. she fucked you fast and rough, slamming her tip into your sweet spot on every thrust. she forced her cock even deeper by pinning your knees to your chest with her powers. then she snapped her fingers and the suction was back on your clit, only three times more powerful than before.

"come on my cock, y/n," agatha commanded, sending you flying into an orgasm. this one felt different from the first one, like a spark in your core spreading into an uncontrollable fire throughout your body. your legs jerked and your face twisted up, and the sight of you sent agatha over the edge too. you felt her hot release coat your walls, satiating you.

agatha pulled out of you and coaxed you to sit up, at which point you noticed the mess. a glowing purple liquid seeped out from between your legs, and agatha's midsection was dripping with clear liquid... wait, was that glowing too? the yellow aura looked unnatural, almost neon.

"rule number three," agatha chuckled, sensing your confusion. "don't be alarmed when things start glowing. comes with the territory, dear."

"how did that...?" you wondered aloud.

"well, for me it was an artistic choice. some women really enjoy the idea of me coming inside them, so i added a special enchantment to make their dreams come true," she explained. then her face broke into a smug grin. "and you, my darling, you squirted. it's not a magical experience on its own, but apparently it was for you."

your eyes followed her hands as she gestured to the glimmering evidence of your climax.

"have you ever done that before?" she asked while waving her hands in the air. before she finished the sentence, you were both suddenly clean and wearing fresh pajamas, warm like they'd just been in the dryer.

"no," you admitted, still a bit shy after losing control so dramatically. agatha hummed and pulled you close, and you grew drowsy while she cuddled you.

"oh, sweet daisy girl. i still have so much to show you."

#agatha harkness x reader #wandavision fanfic #mcu fanfiction #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x female reader #agatha harkness x y/n #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #wandavision smut #agatha harkness smut #fanfic #marvel fanfiction

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ghoulie-67-baby · 2 years ago

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Nature vs Nurture part 2 - Good omens.

Summary: Befriending a snake but it turns out to be Crowley and he’s injured.

Warnings: Blood, slight injury, snakes.

Pairing: Humanfem!reader x ineffable husbands (Platonic / Otherwise).

Word count: 2,659.

I didn't wake to my alarm like I did every morning but instead with the feeling of something moving across my bed sheets, half draped over my body. I sat up in shock, looking around in alarm only to find a snake that looked just as shocked as me. I stared for a moment before the previous night began to filter back into my mind and I slumped back onto my pillows, letting myself relax.

"Sorry Precious forgot you were here, I'm so used to being on my own." I greeted the beautiful creature as he slithered up alongside my face and bumped his nose on my outstretched hand. I turned onto my side to face him as he coiled his body beneath him and came to a sit still on my pillow. A yawn broke the soft silence of the room and with a stretch, I sat up and rubbed my hands over my face with a sigh.

"Okie dokie Snakie, what is best to wear for a book shop interview huh?" I knew he couldn't speak but it was better than talking to myself like I usually did. I shuffled over to my wardrobe, dragging open the doors and clicking my tongue in thought. Humming to myself, I pulled out a few items that would be appropriate and laid them on the end of the bed. "Okay so, this black skirt goes well with some tights and kitten heels look cute, I think suspenders would be best with it and a shirt that matches, maybe navy blue, to go with a blazer jacket or" I pulled out a few more things. "These black trousers could be okay with this top and a blazer. What do you think?" I held the skirt and trousers up whilst looking at him and shrugged. "I like the skirt plus I feel it would fit a bookshop pretty well."

His yellow eyes seemed to dart between the two before settling on the skirt and nodding towards it slightly. I grinned at him and placed it on the other side of the bed beside him.

"Now for the top, this navy shirt or the navy scoop neck with long sleeves?" I lifted them both up and down as we decided. "I like the scoop neck but it does come a little low and shows a bit of cleavage. With a blazer, it shouldn't be too bad right?" I decided with a hum of satisfaction before going to my drawers. "Black or blue suspenders?" His head bobbed to the black ones so I chucked them to the bed before smiling and clapping my hands together. "I shall be back soon, don't wander off Precious." I gathered all of my clothes and underwear into my arms before making my way to the bathroom.

As I dressed I couldn't help the nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. I really needed this job, really wanted it too and couldn't help but worry about the outcome. I smoothed down the skirt with a sigh as I looked at the outfit in the mirror, the items did go well together. After brushing my hair and styling it I nodded to myself and left the bathroom, careful not to slip against the tiles because of the material of my tights.

"I think you have an eye for fashion Precious," I twirled around in front of the snake and grinned, grabbing my chunky heeled oxfords to complete the fit. "Okay, walking won't take long and the earlier the better at this point." It was bordering on 10 AM as I grabbed my blazer and bag, throwing on a clean scarf for good measure. "Right, I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone but I don't think Mr Fell will appreciate me bringing a snake to the shop somehow." His head nodded towards my scarf as he made his way over and I looked at him confused. "Look, you could hide under my scarf around my neck but you'd have to be very still and well-behaved." Seemingly he understood everything else so this couldn't hurt right. "I mean it, best behaviour Precious." I let the reptile slink up around my neck and made sure to cover him carefully with my scarf so it hid him but didn't suffocate him.

"Let's do this," I whispered to him, leaving the apartment and locking the door behind me. The journey was fairly uneventful though the sun did shine for once, even with a slightly chilly breeze around us. I enjoyed the reassuring weight of my new friend around my neck and found myself rearranging the scarf to discreetly pet him every so often. I waved a thank you to a driver as they allowed me to cross the road and looked up at the burgundy building in awe, taking a deep breath before pushing the wooden door open, smiling as the bell tinkled above me.

Nobody was in the shop as the door closed behind me gently and I clutched the strap of my bag as I looked around me. The walls were filled floor to ceiling with books, not as incredibly neat as other shops but this gave it a more warm and homey feeling. A gentle light filled the shop as I wandered between shelves, dodging tables piled with books and chairs placed around the room for shoppers. For a few moments, I totally forgot about the nerves and churning of my stomach whilst being surrounded by my passion until a mess of white curls peered around one of the selves and bright blue eyes met my own. My back straightened instantly and I smiled at them.

"Hi, I'm looking for Mr Fell," My throat was considerably dry as the figure came into view.

"Yes, that's me, it's nice to meet you..." He trailed off slowly.

"Oh right, I'm Y/N. I saw your job listing online and couldn't wait to have a look at your shop." I held out my hand to him, silently thanking the heavens it wasn't sweaty because of nerves. "You didn't specify the date or time so I thought I'd come by and see if you had any preferences." My heart thumped in my chest as his warm hand shook my own, lingering for a second before he clasped them in front of him with a smile.

"Of course my dear, if you just follow me to my desk that'd be great." He wandered off around the corner and with a nod I followed, rearranging my scarf as the snake beneath shifted slightly. "Take a seat wherever you'd like dear girl." I did as he said, smoothing down my skirt and placing my bag down by my feet before allowing my eyes to meet his. "So, have you ever worked in a bookshop before?"

"Not quite, but before moving here I spent so much time in one that I was practically part of the furniture." I joked, relaxing as he chuckled.

"They are the most relaxing places to be so that's understandable. My shop is quite big, how well do you think you could memorise genres and where they go?"

"My memory can get a little muddled but once I get used to things then I can be as reliable as a contents page in a book so I think I'd do pretty well." I was being entirely honest here, something told me he'd be able to tell if I bent the truth even a little.

"That's quite alright, I understand these things take time." His eyes caught on my scarf for a second as my stowaway shifted. I bit my lip hoping he would let it go. "I'm sorry, Your scarf seems to be moving on its own accord. Is there something under it?" I couldn't tell whether he was annoyed or confused but I held my breath and nodded stiffly.

"I had a bit of a surprise on the way home last night and was a bit troubled because I don't have the facilities to leave him alone," I explained, unravelling the garment from around my neck to reveal the red and black snake beneath. "I'm really sorry I brought him with me but I couldn't leave him unattended plus he's well-behaved, usually." His shining blue eyes met the snake's calmly as he held out his hand slightly.

"There you are my dearest, honestly, I leave you for five minutes and you go missing. Do you know how worried I was?" My eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he spoke to the reptile, a tone of irritation in his voice though it was minor.

"He's yours?" I couldn't help but feel my heart and stomach sink at the idea of him having an owner already.

"You could say that, he's quite the demon." The snake seemed to hiss in amusement at what seemed like an inside joke and I nodded sadly. "Where did you find him, if you don't mind my asking?"

"In the park, you ought to know he has a wound on the underside of his belly and though I cleaned it, and please don't think I'm crazy, he refused the vets entirely. Going as far as lunging at me for trying to push the idea." The man in front of me seemed to nod in agreement and didn't judge me, holding out his hands to take him.

"Yes, that sounds very much like him. He's a stubborn soul." He lifted the animal and tutted as he saw the wound, visibly upset by it. "What on earth happened? Why haven't you taken care of yourself." The way he spoke seemed like he was expecting an answer and I couldn't help but be unsure and confused. "Please go and fix yourself so we can talk about this properly my dear boy. You have some explaining to do." Within seconds, the snake was placed on the floor and wriggled away, leaving the two of us amongst the books. "Sorry about that dear, I'm sure you're quite confused by the whole ordeal."

"A little, he's very intelligent for a snake. I didn't realise he was someone's pet, sorry about this." I twisted my hands in the fabric of my skirt.

"Who are you calling a pet?" A new face appeared beside the bookshelf, a lean body resting against the shelves. I jumped in surprise and smiled at the stranger.

"Sorry, I didn't realise there was anyone else here. I'm Y/N, do you work here too?" I shook the man's hand, still shaken by the previous occurrence.

"Crowley and nope," He threw himself on the sofa beside Mr Fell, wincing slightly as he sat himself up. "I just enjoy the company." He grinned widely at the other man, straightening his sunglasses. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question." His hand held his stomach for a second before he shifted.

"Mr Fell has a snake that went missing, I found him and was just saying that I didn't realise he was someone's pet."

"Oh, he's not, if anything he's the snake's pet," I looked at him in confusion, hoping for elaboration as Mr Fell shook his head at Crowley. "Aren't you Angel?" My eyes flickered between the two for a moment, cheeks flushing as I realised they must be together or at least dancing around one another with the way they interacted. The two noticed my state of befuddlement and grinned at one another. "I do like the name Precious though. Wouldn't mind that as a nickname when you're working here." His head tilted towards me as he slipped off the sunglasses and looked me straight in the eyes.

My brain seemed to short-circuit as the same eyes the snake had looked at me, a huge grin spreading across his face. I opened my mouth to speak but quickly closed it when words failed to form. This happened a few times before I gave up, settling for just sitting and staring at the lean man. I mean stranger things have happened, right?

"Are you alright dear?" Mr Fell leant forward in his seat as I blinked at him blankly. "I fear you've broken her Crowley, you could've been gentler with her."

"She'll snap soon Angel, she was talking to a snake for Satan's sake, this can't be that strange to her if I pointed her in the direction of your shop and she proceeded to listen." I nodded slowly, he did make sense after all.

"So," I took a deep breath, pursing my lips for a moment. "You're telling me you're the snake that I found in the park that can just miraculously turn from snake to human-"

"Not quite human Darling, more like a demonic entity if you'd be so kind."

"Okay, snake to demon then. And you expect me not to freak out right?" I was taking this better than expected. "Maybe, I could just have a glass of water please Mr Fell." My clammy hands gripped my skirt as I cleared my throat, huffing out a breath that I didn't know I'd been holding.

"Of course, dear, give us a moment." The two disappeared from the sofa, talking amongst each other.

"Come on Angel, she's alone and we'd be doing her and ourselves a favour." The way he pleaded made him seem almost human.

"That's all good and well dearest but look at her, she's obviously in shock by the situation. If you were human you'd be the same, Y/N had just found out you are a demon, turn into a snake and has probably guessed I'm an angel by now so do give her some time." My eyes came back into focus as the glass of water was held out in front of me and within seconds the liquid was gone and I gasped a breath. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you. I have no idea how any of this works obviously but I guess it is what it is. I'm sorry I called you a pet and also sorry for almost keeping him, he's quite charming as a snake." The two chuckled before Crowley seemed to catch onto what I said.

"Hang on, I'm charming anyway."

"Yes well, it seems you have some new things to get used to but as a thank you and just because you seem overall quite perfect for the job, you can start anytime within the next week. It's up to you if you still want the job of course." The angel seemed to be hesitant as he waited for a reply, comforted by the dark-haired demon that had his arm resting on the back of the couch behind him.

"I mean, I'd still love the job, I just ask I get a few explanations and answers to questions if and when I have them if you don't mind Mr Fell." I couldn't work out why this hadn't set off alarms in my head but in all honesty, I was very curious about the pair.

"That sounds wonderful dear, it'll be lovely having a new face here with us and it's Aziraphale, Mr Fell is just a cover-up name for the shop." That made sense. The smile on his face made me smile back as I stood up, followed by them both. "There isn't a dress code either as long as it's comfortable and appropriate."

"In case you have any questions that can't wait." Crowley held out a piece of paper with his number on and I took it with a smile. "Don't hesitate to message or ring us." He winked, the glow of his eyes only brightened by the warm light of the room and I nodded, trying to hide the creeping blush on my face.

"Well, I'd better get going, I'll see you both tomorrow then." And with that and a call of goodbye from the pair I left the shop, bell tinkling above me once more, leaving me to the onslaught of thoughts and questions on the two strange beings.

#good omens #good omens x reader imagines #good omens x reader #good ineffable omens #ineffeble husbands #ineffable husbands x reader #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #crowley x arizaphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader

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6-death-spells-9 · 3 months ago

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The Sugar Daddy

~~~

Hi! I have another mini fic for you today. This one’s a little silly ;)

Content warning: suggestive but not explicit content

Read fic under the cut

⬇️⬇️⬇️

“I’m home!” Lawrence calls out into the apartment as he hangs his coat up neatly onto the hook and places his work bag down on the floor.

The sound of Beavis and Butt-head’s laughter from the television alerts Lawrence to Adam’s whereabouts, so he enters the living room now holding only his cane and a paper bag, with the bright yellow ‘M’ on it.

“Hello, darling.” He greets softly to alert Adam of his presence as the younger man sits on the couch, eyes fixated on the crude cartoon, approaching his partner with the thunk of his cane on the wooden flooring to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I got you the box of twenty chicken nuggets you requested.”

He hands the bag to Adam. “Though I will say I’m not thrilled, the box of twenty is not supposed to be a portion for one person, do you have any idea what goes into those things?”

The question goes unanswered and ignored as Adam grins to himself and takes the box out of the bag, grabbing a nugget and humming contentedly as he pops it into his mouth. “Thanks, babe.” He says as he chews. “You’re the best sugar daddy ever!”

Lawrence rolls his eyes fondly as he sits beside Adam on the couch. “I do believe there’s more to our relationship than just that, love.”

Adam laughs as he eats another nugget. “Yeah but you buy me nice things, that’s why you’re the best sugar daddy.”

Lawrence hums as he regards his partner. “Well, I suppose if that’s true, you need to give me a little sugar before I let you have your much loved chicken nuggets.”

“Oh…” Adam, elated that Lawrence’s playing along, elated and definitely some other strong emotions as he turns pretty in pink.

Lawrence smirks at him as he takes the box from Adam’s hand and places it safely onto the coffee table, pressing Adam down into the couch with his body weight. Adam’s face turns a deeper shade.

He presses a kiss to Adam’s lips, then another, deeper this time, and with tongue. When they split Lawrence moves on to Adam’s neck, kissing down, down to the juncture where neck meets shoulder, sucking and worrying the skin until a lovely mark appears.

Adam’s breath grows shallow as he grips onto Lawrence’s styled blond hair, his pristine pressed black blazer, the back of his neck to bring him closer.

Several pink marks into the flesh of Adam’s neck later, Lawrence pulls back, and Adam pouts as he clutches his lover’s tie and stares up into those bright blue eyes.

“My nuggies are gonna be cold.” He whines.

“Oh, my poor baby.” Lawrence coos to him. “I’ll buy you some more.”

“Mmm, the best sugar daddy.”

And Adam pulls him in by the tie, into another kiss, as he presses his hips up into Lawrence’s with a long drawn out moan.

#saw #saw franchise #saw movies #saw fanfic #saw 2004 #adam stanheight #adam faulkner stanheight #lawrence gordon #chainshipping #my work #suggestive

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summer-nights19 · 8 days ago

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Omertá part 4

Romeo Scorpius Lucci x fem reader

Part 3

After a long morning of uninterruptedly running around the casino to serve drinks, clean the floor and deal cards, the last thing you really wanted to do was act as Romeo's mule and travel across campus to deliver things to his clients, so you were less than thrilled when some Sinostra student came up to you with a small plastic bag full of weed and told you to drop off at Vagastrom.

"Give this to Leo Kurosagi, first year,"

You took the bag and hid it under your blazer, careful not to open the seal.

"Will that be my tasks done for today after this ?"

The guy frowned at you as if you'd somehow asked something offensive, but he replied anyway.

"Fico wants you to meet him in his office right after you finish,"

You nodded, holding back a groan. One meeting with Romeo had been more than enough for the whole week, and, despite his admission that you could be useful that morning, you were pretty sure he found you just as unbearable as you did him.

Deciding there was no point in prolonging the inevitable, you consulted the campus map you carried around everywhere and walked off in the direction of the Vagastrom students' favourite hang out spot.

***

The pit was a staple hang out spot for Vagastrom students, or so you'd heard. On most days, the entire house would gather around it for hours on end to watch men beating each other up and bet on the outcome. Standing there surrounded by a cacophony of shouts and jeers as the smell of blood and sweat flooded into your nose, it was hard to understand the appeal. As you were scanning the faces in crowd, your eyes fell on a short, lean guy with cat yellow eyes. He was wearing headphones and talking to a much taller guy in a bandana as they both kept half an eye on what was happening in the pit.

Bingo.

Rolling back your shoulders, you started shoving your way through the massive crowd to reach Leo. A few guys grunted in annoyance as you pushed past them, but you assumed that the majority were used to it - this didn't exactly look like the kind of environment in which health and safety was prioritized. He caught your eye just as you were approaching him, his eyebrows raising when he saw the colour of the accents on your uniform. When you finally reached him, he held out his hand expectantly

"Here to deliver on behalf of Ro-Ro ?"

You gave him a side eye. Just how many stupid nicknames did Romeo have ?

"Yes, I'm here for your order," you kept your voice even, making it clear you wouldn't move until he handed you the money. After a few seconds of standing there and staring at each other, Leo rolled his eyes, the hint of a smirk on his lips as he reached inside his pocket.

"He's one step ahead of me by now. Looks like the new recruits know to wait for payment before they hand anything over,"

Trying not to sigh, you watched Leo pull out a wad of cash and toss it at you. With the rise of the Internet, a lot of criminal organisations had moved onto using digital cash, but many still preferred physical as it made laundering the money a lot easier. Apparently, your new "boss" belonged to this second category.

As you counted the crumpled banknotes, you wondered how many times this exact transaction had happened in the history of your family alone. How many times had men and women desperate for money or owing your father a "favour" wondered into a dodgy location to transport the "goods" your father sold to their buyers, all so he wouldn't have to get his own hands dirty or risk his own skin ? Romeo claiming to be different was laughable for that reason alone.

With a swift movement, you took out the weed, not bothering to conceal your actions too much. Everyone around you was completely engrossed by the cage fight, and these didn't exactly seem like the types to report sales of "illicit substances" to the staff. Not wanting to spend a minute longer than you had to in that place, you gave Leo a curt nod, stuffed the money inside your blazer and walked away.

After a long walk around the bitterly cold campus, you finally got to Romeo's office for the impromptu meeting he'd scheduled. You raised an eyebrow at the goon standing in front if the door, not waning to waste any time.

"You have business with Fico ? He's not back yet, but he said to go in and wait for him. He said to clean his office while you're at it,"

You crossed your arms, glaring at the guy in front of you.

"The fuck does he think I am ? His maid ?"

Romeo's goon met your gaze, a teasing smirk on his lips. Underlings always enjoyed having someone below them to boss around.

"Don't make things difficult for yourself, L/N. Just get in there and start cleaning,"

Clenching your fists, you pushed past the guy and opened the door to Romeo's office. If he thought you were going to clean his space for him just because he'd ordered you to, he was beyond deluded, but this situation had presented you with a nice opportunity to investigate.

Romeo's office was massive and decorated somewhat ostentatiously. Did he really need a fountain on his wall ? Now that you were looking at it more closely, it did seem a little suspicious, but that would have to wait. The main object of interest was the large mahogany desk at the centre of the room. Sorting your way through neatly stacked piles of documents, you skim read for anything of interest - any dirt or blackmail you could use to manipulate events in your favour even slightly - before your eyes fell on a locked drawer. Taking a hairpin out of your pocket and prying it open, you smirked to yourself. If Romeo had something to hide, you might very well find it in there. After a few tries at picking the lock, you finally managed to open the drawer. The inside was almost empty, save for an ornate black rosary and a crumpled piece of paper. You took the paper in your hand and unfolded it carefully. It had a picture of the Virgin Mary, along with words you'd long forgotten.

"Ave, o Maria, piena di grazia,

il Signore è con te.

Tu sei benedetta fra le donne

e benedetto è il frutto del tuo seno, Gesù.

Santa Maria, Madre di Dio,

prega per noi peccatori,

adesso e nell'ora della nostra morte.

Amen." *

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. While a lot of people in your circles at least made an effort to appear to be men of faith in public, Romeo hadn't struck you as the type - quite the opposite in fact.

A familiar voice from just outside the door broke the silence, which caused you to slam the drawer shut and place the key back in. As you heard the doorknob turn, you started going through the piles of documents on the desk, pretending to sort through them.

"You've done a catastrophic job at cleaning, BB. This room is messier than when I left it,"

You looked up from the desk and rolled your eyes at him.

"Clean it yourself then. Or don't get me to do fifty things in one day,"

Romeo sat down in one of his plush armchairs, fully returning your glare.

"You're lucky I even gave you this opportunity, so don't complain ! If you don't watch your mouth-"

"Remember Mr Lucci, you need me just as much as I need you,"

Romeo sighed, scowling at you, but he couldn't bring himself to deny it.

"On another note, don't make me deliver anything to Vagastrom again. Being in a room with that many sweaty, shouty men isn't something I particularly enjoy,"

"You're in no position to be making demands, L/N. You'll deliver where I need you to deliver,"

"Can't I go to Frostheim next time ? I'm sure some of their rich asses buy cocaine or something,"

"You'll go there if I need you to go there ! Now shut the fuck up before you make me reconsider promoting you,"

"Promote me ?" You stopped leaning back on the chair, your eyes widening slightly.

"Yes. I believe you did a satisfactory enough job today to fully take on the role of my assistant starting tomorrow. Of course, you'll still have to follow all of my orders," Romeo smirked at you as he said that, and you sighed and kept your face blank. He was clearly enjoying the power trip, but this was what you had signed up for. Now, if you did a good enough job of increasing his profits, you wouldn't have to worry about that bounty anymore.

You held out your hand, and he shook it firmly, holding on for a second longer than strictly necessary.

"Sounds good to me, Mr Lucci,"

* AN: the prayer above is called a Hail Mary (Ave Maria) and is commonly recited in the Catholic faith

Masterlist

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker fanfiction #tokyo debunker x reader #tokyo debunker headcanons #tokyo debunker romeo lucci #romeo lucci x reader #romeo scorpius lucci #tokyo debunker romeo #romeo lucci

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moutainrusing · 6 months ago

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friends

dorlene july event, 604 words, @enbysiriusblack

School was starting. It was Marlene’s first day at Pottermore Primary in her new shoes and chequered blue summer dress, old enough to leave the nursery and start actual school. The September morning was still warm, remnants of August heat dappling the street yellow, the trees tinged orange, the air humid and peach-tinted, the breeze mild and temperate.

Due to the friendly nature of the small, close-knit village, the five-minute walking distance to the school, and the fact that she’d been running about by herself since the moment she was able to, Marlene was making the journey on her own. It was giving her an insane adrenaline rush. She charged down the path, grinning toothily at the neighbours who were wishing her luck.

She turned the corner, saw the park, and, feeling the power of childhood freedom, swerved towards it. Instead of opening the gate like a lifeless adult would, she chose the adventure of climbing over the fence, books and pens rattling in her rucksack as she swung herself onto the grass.

Landing on her feet, after years of practice, she cast a cursory glance over the park as if it were her territory.

On one of the swings, there sat another girl. New shoes, blue dress, but while Marlene had ditched her blazer because they were too restrictive, this girl was wearing a pristinely ironed blazer, buttoned up, school logo shining, collar perfectly straight. And she was reading a book.

Marlene scrunched her nose and walked towards her. “Why are you reading?” She asked bluntly.

The girl looked up at her with huge umber eyes, and then down at a watch neatly centred on her wrist. It was a cool watch. Like an antique. It was a shade lighter than the dark brown of her skin, with geometric patterns engraved along the border. Marlene found herself thinking that the girl and the watch looked good together. They were both… parts of nature. The wooden watch and the quiet girl.

“I’m reading because school doesn’t start in ten minutes yet,” she tapped her watch.

“Huh,” Marlene acknowledged. “I know better things we can do in that time.”

“Like what?” The girl blinked at her dubiously.

Marlene grinned. “Let’s go over there!” Then she was running, and after a moment, the girl chased after her. Marlene threw a smirk over her shoulder, then slammed on her brakes at the most unexpected time. The girl ran into her, and they both toppled to the ground, Marlene’s chest hurting from how much she was laughing.

“Got you,” she wheezed.

The girl frowned, picked up a spider from the ground, and placed it on Marlene’s hair. Marlene shrieked, got to her feet in panic, and began flailing madly.

“Got you,” the girl echoed smugly, sitting back on her elbows as if she were watching a show.

Marlene narrowed her eyes. She was half-impressed though. This girl wasn’t scared of spiders. Spiders. Even though she might have been a bit of a perfect nerd, she had proper guts. So Marlene smiled and held out a hand. “Well, now that we’ve got each other, I think we have to be friends.”

The girl grinned, taking her hand as she rose back up. “Okay, Marlene. Sounds nice. I’m Dorcas and my watch is called Dakika.” She waved it in Marlene’s face, then walked towards her bag. “Dakika says it’s time for school. Are you coming?”

Marlene darted after her, “How did you know my name? Why have you named your watch? Do you want to play with me after school? Can we sit next to each other in class? And—”

#marauders #microfiction #dorlene #dorlene fic #dorlene july event #dorcas meadowes #marlene mckinnon #dorcas x marlene #dorcas and marlene #pre relationship #kid fic #friendship #inspired by we're going to be friends #the white stripes

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clare141312 · 2 months ago

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MHA X READER WITH ATOM EVE´S POWERS

Chapter 3

Warning: Cursing Words: 2k

The first day of school. I’m so excited, but I’m just as nervous as I am excited. This time, I have to try my hardest to fit in and make friends. The uniform feels uncomfortable. The knee-high socks constantly slip down my legs, the skirt feels too short even though I know I have shorts underneath, and the blazer is stiff and restrictive. The red tie around my neck feels like it’s trying to choke me. All these sensations make me fidget with the clothes, as if somehow that’ll make them more comfortable.

I start walking and try to find Class 1-A, stopping to ask for directions from others whenever I get lost. Finally, I reach the classroom. As I open the door and step inside, a girl with pink skin approaches me. “Hey! I’m Mina Ashido. What’s your name? What’s your quirk? You’re really pretty! What kind of skincare do you use?” she says, her words tumbling out quickly and full of energy. Something about her makes me instantly like her and want to keep talking.

“My name is Sayuri Kuramoto. My quirk is called Subatomic Manipulation. It allows me to alter matter and energy at the subatomic level. Thank you, and I use a Dove moisturizing cream,” I reply, matching her enthusiasm. We keep chatting as we walk further into the classroom and find seats. as I sit down, my eyes wander around the room, spotting several good-looking guys. One has spiky red hair, another has bright yellow hair, and there’s one with spiky blonde hair. My gaze stops on a striking figure with red and white split hair, who looks almost godly. Mina and I take our seats next to each other and continue talking.

I then hear a familiar voice and turn to see the glasses boy from the Auditorium yelling at the good-looking guy with blonde hair. "It's the first day and you're already disrespecting this academy by scuffing school property you cretin." the guy insulted. I agree that it is disrespectful, but he should not go around scolding people. But I supress a laugh as I hear the blondes reply "You're kidding me, right? Your old school put a stick up your ass or were you born with it.” "Arhh, Let's start over. I'm Tenya Iida from the Some Private Academy." The boy introduced holding out his hand. "Some, huh, so you must think you're better than me. I'm going to have fun tearing you a new one." The boy threatened. Me and mina watch them interacting as Iida said, "It's him." and everyone plus me turned to the green haired boy from the auditorium and I was confused. As I look at him, I can see the molecules and atoms within his body, including his quirk genes, which seem unusual. His quirk genes look almost overwhelming, as if they’re too much for his body, like they don’t truly belong to him. I notice traces of other DNA mixed within his quirk genes, making them even more peculiar.

I shake my head, refocusing on my conversation with Ashido, when a voice cuts through the room. “If you're just here to make friends then you can pack up your stuff, now." and I leaned forward to see a guy in a yellow sleeping bag on the floor in the doorway, he looked like a caterpillar, "Welcome to U.A.'s hero course." The guy said and then sucked on a yogurt bag and stood to unzip completely, "It took 8 seconds before you all shut up. That's not going to work. Time is precious. Rational students would understand that. Hello, I'm Shota Aizawa your teacher." he informed, and shock washes over me, "Right let's get to it put these on and head outside." Aizawa ordered showing us a jumpsuit.

What a quirk assessment test?" We all asked in Suprise as we stood on the field.

"But orientation we're going to miss it." A brown-haired girl with a bob cut complained.

"If you really want to make the big leagues you can't waste time on pointless ceremonies." Aizawa addressed and everyone was shocked but got more serious, "Here at U.A. we're not tethered to traditions that means that I get to run my class however I see fit. You've been taking standardised tests most of your lives, but you never got to use your quirks in physical exams before. The countries still trying to pretend we're all created equal by not letting those with the most power excel it's not rational. One day the Ministry of Education will learn. Bakugou, you managed to get the most points on the entrance exam. What was your farthest distance throw with a softball when you were in junior high?" Aizawa asked.

"67 metres I think." Bakugo shrugged.

"Right, try doing it with your quirk."

"Anything goes just stay in the circle." Aizawa explained to Bakugo as he stood in the circle painted onto the field holding a ball, "Go on your wasting our time." Aizawa states.

"Alright man you asked for it." Bakugo cautions stretching his arm out and then throwing hard using his quirk to send the ball flying really

"All of you need to know your maximum capabilities it's the most rational way to figuring out your paternal as a pro-hero." Aizawa proffered tablet showing us the distance of Bakugou´s throw 705.2 metres and We all Gaspe.

"Whoa, 705 metres are you kidding me." one of the guys gaped.

"I want to go that looks like fun." Ashido volunteered.

"This is what I'm talking about. Using our quirks as much as we want." Another boy urged. "So, this looks fun huh? You have three years here to become a hero. You think it's all going to be games and playtime. Idiots, today you'll complete eight physical tests to gauge your potential whoever comes in last has none and will be expelled immediately." Aizawa testified and I start freaking out and trying not laugh. My quirk isn’t about enhancing my physical strength; it’s about bending matter to my will. Then I have an idea. What if I manipulate the atoms in my body to enhance my physical strength, but even if I try to do that. I´m not advanced enough.

"Like I said I get to decide how this class runs understand. If that's a problem, you can head home right now." Aizawa commented and I took a deep breath I can not be expelled. I tried way to hard to get here.

You can't send one of us home. I mean we just got here. Even if it wasn't the first day that isn't fair." The girl with brown hair and bob cut complained.

"Oh, and you think national disasters are or power-hungry villains or catastrophic accidents that wipe out whole cities are. No, the world is full of unfairness. It's a hero's job to try to combat that unfairness. If you want to be a pro, you're gonna to have to push yourself to the brink for the next three years U.A. will throw one terrible hardship after another at you. So go beyond, plus ultra style. Show me it's no mistake that you're here." Aizawa stressed and I nodded readily "Now we're just wasting time by talking. Let the games begin." Aizawa vocalised

The first test is a 50-meter dash. While two of my classmates take their turns, I get introduced to Kyoka Jirou, Momo Yayorozu, Ochaco Uraraka, and Tsuyu Asui, the girls in the class. Now it’s my turn, and dread washes over me as I step up to the starting line. When the starting gun fires, I sprint forward as if my life depends on it. “5.51 seconds!” the robot announces, and I let out a sigh of relief.

Next up is the grip strength test. I take hold of the apparatus, smiling nervously. I can't keep doing this, but maybe, just maybe, I can increase my strength using my quirk. I’ve never tried this before, and if it doesn’t work out, I’m Fucked. I close my eyes and focus intently on my hand. I grip the device tightly, and it beeps. Slowly, I open my eyes to see the result: 67 kg. I'm thrilled! It may be a small improvement, but it's progress, and that’s what counts.

Standing long jump was next and I use my quirk to Strengthen my legs and almost jump across it. The last one was the ball throw and This time I strengthen my whole arm and throw, and it goes up to 300 meters. And then I watched Ochaco throw her ball, and it just never came back down to earth.

“Infinity that's insane how's that possible?" one boy called, and I smiled

"If Midoriya doesn't shape up soon he's the one going home." Iida described.

"Of course he is he's a quirkless loser." Bakugo insulted.

“What gives I was trying to use it just now." Midoriya hummed and I looked at Aizawa, "I erased your quirk the judges for this exam were not rational enough. Someone like you should never be allowed to enrol at this school." Aizawa disclosed the bandages around his neck started flying as well as his hair.

"Wait, you did what to my... Whoa, those goggles. I know you. You can look at someone and cancel out their powers. The eraser hero Eraserhead." Midoriya chimes in and we all started to mutter to each other.

You're not ready you don't have control over your power," Mr. Aizawa warns, "Were you planning to break your again? Counting on someone else to save your useless body."

"No, that's not what I was trying to do!" Midoriya starts to protest, but Mr. Aizawa swiftly captures him with one of his bandages, yanking him toward him. I strain to catch what Mr. Aizawa is saying, but I can only make out the tail end of their exchange.

"I returned your impractical quirk. Take your final throw. Hurry up and get it over with," Aizawa huffs as he walks back over to us.

"I wonder if our teacher gave him some advice," Iida says, concern etched on his face.

"Probably told him to start packing," Bakugo scoffs.

"Smash!" he yells, and the ball shoots off like a rocket, the force of the throw making us all struggle to keep our footing. I stare in shock as I sit down hard on the ground. "Mr. Aizawa, you see I'm still standing!" Midoriya assures, turning to face us with a triumphant grin.

"This kid," Aizawa whispers, disbelief lacing his voice.

“He threw it over 700 metres." Someone admired.

"Nice he's finally showing us his true power." Uraraka proclaimed.

"His finger appears to be broken now. Just like in the exam, his quirk is very odd." Iida chimes in.

"It wasn't a very pretty throw." The navel laser guy announces.

“Hey, Deku you bastard tell me how you did that or your dead.”, Bakugo yells and runs toward Midoriya but before he could do anything Mr Aizawa caught him with his scarf and erased his quirk.

"What? Why the hell is your damn scarf so strong?" Bakugo complains and all I could think about was what an asshole Bakugo was.

"Because it's a capture weapon made out of carbon Fiber and a special metal alloy. STAND DOWN. It would be wise to avoid making me use my quirk so much... It gives me serious dry eye," Aizawa explains.

"Too bad that power is amazing," we all murmur in agreement, and Aizawa finally releases Bakugo from his grip.

"You're wasting my time now. Whoever's next can step up," Aizawa concludes, his tone sharp as he scans the group for the next contestant. "Alright, it’s time to give you your results. I’ve ranked you all from best to worst. You should have a good idea of your standings already. Instead of going over every individual score, I’ll just pull up the entire list," Aizawa states, and the results appear on the screen. I see my name in fourth place. "And just to clarify, no one is going home. That was merely a tactical deception to ensure you all gave it you’re all during the tests," he explains, and a wave of relief washes over us. Everyone erupts into cheers as we stand together on the field once more.

"I'm surprised the rest of you didn't figure that out. Sorry, I guess I probably should have said something." Momo the top spot holder apologises, and we all begin chatting.

I start heading home when Ashido catches up to me, offering to walk with me to the station. I gladly accept, and we chat as we make our way together. After we part ways, I can’t help but reflect on the incredible day I just had despite the initial scare.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #oc #mha #bnha x oc #mha x oc

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yellowkitkieran · 2 years ago

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To Have and To Heal (Part 9)

Masterlist

Read part 1 here

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?

"Those yellow heels don't work," your best friend says, her voice scratchy through your phone speaker. You set the device on your vanity and throw your hands up, noting Jen's upturned nose. She's the closest thing you have to a fashion expert, so naturally you called her an hour ago for some final advice on what to wear on tonight's date after sorting through your closet for an hour on your own.

"Well then I have no idea what to do," you whine, at your wits end as you toss the uncomfortable heels onto your bed. They land on top of the pile of discarded outfits you've tried on, none of them flattering enough for you to feel confident meeting Martin in. "This is ridiculous- I should just put on jeans and a hoodie and call it good."

Jen snorts, "Absolutely not-"

"It's probably what he's gonna wear! It could be cute if we wind up matching-"

"Babe, listen to me." You stop rummaging through your closet at the sound of Jen's teacher voice, listening instinctively to what she says. "You're not wearing something that simple. Martin has probably, like, rented an entire restaurant for you. I'm not letting you show up dressed for a date at your local pub!"

You decide against snapping back with a retort along the lines of 'actually, I don't know where my date is because Martin hasn't told me,' and opt for biting your tongue instead. It seems the better option when you've already gotten a light verbal lashing from Jen and you're loath to set her off on a tangent while you're already frazzled.

"Okay, fine. How about this?" You dig through your discard pile and pull out a red dress you tried on towards the beginning. It's simple, nothing more than a form fitting sheath of rich red fabric with three quarter length sleeves and no embellishments, but it feels like the right balance of classy and sexy. Jen hums, tapping her chin as she leans closer to her own phone until her face fills your screen.

"I like it, that could work if you pair it with that charcoal blazer you wore last week, and then those matching heels? The low ones, just in case you wind up doing a lot of walking."

After a minute of struggling you finally get into the dress and come back into the frame of your camera to show Jen. She wolf whistles, which is a sign of her approval. "Ooohhh girl that's the ticket! Do a spin- yeahhhh! That's hot, Martin is gonna lose his head when he sees you!"

"I mean I hope so, it took us literal years to pick out!" You both laugh, yours a touch awkward as your nerves begin to shine through. The ball in your stomach has gained momentum and now feels like a boulder in your gut. It weighs you down and keeps your feet rooted firmly to the carpet. You should be ending your FaceTime call and heading downstairs to call an Uber, not contemplating your outfit again to distract yourself.

Tonight's date is the highlight of your week. You've been looking forward to it since the second Martin asked you, and you hope he's felt the same way.

Maybe he's nervous too, you think. I can't be the only one. Then again… footballers probably don't get nervous. He's probably been on dozens of dates. This is probably routine for him.

Sighing to yourself, you realize belatedly that Jen has taken it upon herself to hang up on her own. "Love you too," you mumble to your phone, stuffing it in your bag and slowly making your way towards your front door. You tap through your apps and order an Uber to the address Martin gave you, fiddling with your keys while you wait for its arrival.

The ride is quiet, the young woman driving not bothering to try and make conversation due to your obviously negative mood. Being nervous isn't something you're particularly used to; normally you're quite confident and outgoing, which is why you're such an excellent teacher. Kids don't do well with shy adults.

When it comes to Martin however, he turns you on your head. Everything about him makes you feel backwards, out of your comfort zone, though not in a bad way. If given the time, you feel like you might grow with him. Like he might bring out a side of you that you don't realize exists.

Twenty minutes into your mysterious drive, the driver pulls over along the river and parks. "You sure this is the place?" The blonde looks as skeptical as you are as she meets your eyes in the mirror. You double check the street sign outside your window and match it to the one in Martin's text before you nod.

You don't see much other than a few traditional brick houses lining the quiet lane, each with matching floating flower beds hanging from the window sills. The wrought iron street lights cast a yellow glow over the uneven pavement. A few people mill about, either coming from work or out on their evening run before cosying up inside for the night.

"This is it, thank you." You give the woman a genuine smile as you place your sweaty palm on the door handle.

"Do you know this person you're meeting? I can hang around a minute and make sure everything is as it should be."

Your heart swells thanks to this stranger. Women looking after women, recognizing something suspicious and not being afraid to speak up about it. The smile that graces your lips now is brimming with confidence, as is the nod you offer her.

"I know him very well, he's a friend that's just finally offered to take me on a date, so I'm a bit nervous is all."

"You look wonderful," the woman offers. "He's a lucky man, that's for sure. I'll be crossing my fingers that it goes well for you then, but be confident! It'll be fine!"

"I appreciate that, I guess I better go find my date before he thinks I've stood him up."

You don't see Martin as you cross the street, which only makes you more concerned that maybe he's gotten cold feet. But you push on, following the low voices catching your attention and surveying the water in the canal on your right- which is when you finally see him.

The boat Martin stands on is slender, barely six feet wide. The Maiden is painted in flowing black script on the rear deck. Years of feet have worn down the white paint surrounding it, leaving bare wood in their wake though the name itself remains in perfect condition, like the vessel's superstitious captain avoided stepping on it at all costs.

The man Martin speaks with is dressed handsomely in a full black suit and silk tie. Martin, unaware of your approach, continues talking quietly and you get the sense that the two know each other well. Martin's companion flicks his eyes up when you shift your weight, finally drawing Martin's attention to you.

As Martin turns, his smile is the first thing you notice. He's already grinning, lips tilted in that devilishly handsome way that has you feeling like you're free falling, wind whizzing through your hair, and Martin is the only one that can save you from certain disaster. You're so caught up in him that you don't realize how dressed up he's gotten for the occasion until he calls your name, his voice breaking your stare so you can sweep your eyes over him.

It is clear Martin has placed as much weight on tonight's events as you have. He's dressed as if he were attending a red carpet, minus the suit coat, which is a plus because you prefer the rolled up sleeves of his white button down. Martin's strong shoulders fill out the shirt perfectly. You swear the row of buttons down his chest are set to burst open at the slightest movement, not that you'd mind that happening. His black wingtip shoes shine, either brand new or just simply very well kept like the man wearing them.

"Come join me solskin," Martin says, "I swear Antony doesn't bite."

You lean on the chain railing in front of you to peer over the edge of the canal, not noticing any steps. The water is higher than normal, which means you should be able to step onto the boat without issue, but you don't trust your clumsy self to do so without tumbling over the side and into the drink. Tonight of all nights, you'd rather not embarrass yourself.

"How am I meant to get down there?" You ask, biting your lip when Martin's musical laugh sings over your skin. His laugh sounds like a snowy winter's day, curled up at the hearth with a hot cup of cocoa and a fuzzy blanket. In your daydream, you suppose there's room for a handsome Norwegian footballer at your side, too.

"I'll help," Martin says, offering his hand as he comes to your side. Without a second thought, you bend your knees one at a time to slip off your heels and hand them over. "That's not exactly what I meant solskin, but-"

"Could I have your coat? I'm sure you've brought one."

Martin blinks, clearly contemplating what you're up to before he nods and disappears into the small cabin. He's in and out quickly, careful not to allow you more than a brief glance inside which reveals very little about what your date may entail. The mystery only serves to have you more excited, like a child waiting patiently to open the pile of gifts under the tree at Christmas.

"Thanks Mar," you murmur, unsurprised when he predicts your intentions and lays his jacket on the bricks at your feet. Polite as always, Martin averts his eyes as you maneuver to sit on the canal, feet dangling over the edge as you take the two foot leap onto the barge. The vessel sways with your sudden weight, forcing you to grip Martin's arms for balance until it rights itself.

"Careful," Martin murmurs, his warm hands finding your hips to steady you. When you look up, you're met by Martin's ridiculously perfect smile and those mischievous blue eyes. Until you met Martin, you never understood why everyone lost their heads over blue eyes. Now the hype is obvious; in the sun, Martin's eyes sparkle and shine like white-capped ocean waves. In the moonlight, they're deeper, like the depths of a lake that you yearn to explore and discover what secrets they hide.

"Thank you for meeting me here," Martin says. "I'm glad you didn't mind me keeping it all a bit of a mystery. It's a good thing I did though, because I almost had to figure something out last minute because my original reservation got canceled- but Antony was kind enough to help me out so I could still bring you here."

Martin's little ramble is adorable. You note how he fidgets with the cuffs of his shirt, like one of your students when they're paired with their crush on an assignment. The childlike innocence in the action only has you falling harder, like you've tripped over your own two feet destined to hit the pavement, only to find Martin is there to catch you.

"I don't mind at all. I'm just happy I didn't have to do any of the planning because that sounds like it was a bit of a pain." Despite the warmth of Martin's hands, you shiver when a chilled breeze sweeps over the water. Martin realizes the temperature change and reaches for his jacket, placing it on your shoulders over your own.

"Hopefully that will warm you up." Martin's tone is rich like warm caramel, brimming with a sweetness that makes your teeth ache nearly as much as your heart.

"It definitely will, thank you."

"Take her inside," Antony stage whispers behind his hand. The brunette winks when you glance over at him, then rolls his eyes as if Martin's mannerisms are nothing new to him. Perhaps they're old friends. It doesn't matter now- as Martin leads you inside, you find yourself smiling at how perfectly his hand fits in yours, like the puzzle piece you thought you'd never find finally snapping into place.

"Watch your step. And your head," Martin adds, his free hand flying up to cover the square edge of the door frame as you stoop down to enter. The gesture is instinctual but sweet, intended to prevent you from hurting yourself.

You aren't sure what you expected, but the candle lit dinner that awaits inside certainly exceeds your wildest dreams. A round, worn wooden table laden with snacks is situated in the middle of a U shaped bench. Latched oak cabinets with peeling white paint line the wall on your left with a niche for a small sink dotted with rust from years of use. A basket with a few wool blankets sit to the right of the door, which leads you to believe that one could sleep in this tiny space if they desired to. The whole thing is like something out of an old sailing catalog and feels somewhat like a time capsule to an age where the world was a freer, more enriching place.

Martin's cologne washes over you when he reaches to flick a switch above your head to dim the lights until only the candles remain. You crane your neck to watch his deft work. Another switch and a dial adjusts the soft, instrumental music to his liking, and when he finally steps back you're dizzy from the soft sandalwood scent of him that lingers in your nose.

"I hope this is alright. I didn't want to take you out to some fancy restaurant and risk being recognized or interrupted."

"This is perfect," you assure him and take a seat on the yellow padded bench. Plates of finger sandwiches and bowls overflowing with fresh cut fruits align with Martin's easygoing personality more than the romantic vibe of your surroundings. You like it better this way however, especially when Martin pulls a bottle of wine from the ice bucket on the seat next to him and pours you a short glass.

"I'll fill it when you're low, it's just better to not have a full glass incase we hit a little wave," Martin explains. "And I think this is your favorite, right?"

"Let me see." Martin is already in the process of spinning the bottle to show you the label when you speak. You grin at him, a hand on your chest when you note the vintage handwritten on the sticker. "It is- how did you even know that?"

"I asked Jen," Martin admits. Candlelight dances in his proud eyes, his smile shining brighter than anything in that moment. "She pointed me in the right direction. Like I said, I wanted tonight to be perfect."

"You've done plenty to make this perfect Mar. I'll admit I would've been happy with a home cooked meal or a trip to an arcade but this? Martin, this…" You shake your head, gesturing to the walls and windows to indicate the entire evening. "No one has ever gone through so much effort to make me feel appreciated like this. I know we've only just sat down, but this is already the best date I've ever had by far."

Hearing that seems to set Martin's mind at ease. His strong shoulders lose some of their strained rigidity. His face softens and his smile has butterflies stirring in your gut.

How can Martin bring out your soft side so easily? You're not one to let your guard down quickly. Normally you keep your heart in a cage to shield it from hurt because you aren't sure how many more cracks it can handle. Something about Martin has you throwing your self-inflicted rules out the window. You aren't terrified of being used because somehow you know his intentions are genuine.

"Atla was very upset when she found out that I was seeing you tonight and she wasn't allowed to come with me." Martin spoons some fruit onto his plate and spears a piece of pineapple with his fork. "She said I betrayed her trust, which seems like an awfully big phrase for a little girl to be using."

"Ah, then she's learning. Good to know that she's been paying attention to our books."

Martin quirks a brow, "Oh? I guess that's a positive. What exactly are you reading her? I hope it's appropriate," Martin teases.

"Oh, I'm reading her Shakespeare," you say nonchalantly, ignoring the surprised look Martin throws your way as you throw his teasing energy right back at him. "She loves it! It makes sense that she's picking up some bigger, sophisticated words with how quickly we're flying through Romeo and Juliette. You should see her when we're reading a tense scene, she likes to act out the fights and the drama."

"Really?" Martin, for as intelligent as he is, can be a bit too trusting at times. You struggle to keep a straight face, covering up the beginnings of a smile by sipping from your glass.

"Mhm, she picked it out all on her own. We started with Macbeth, and next we're probably going to move on to A Tale of Two Cities or something. She likes the old settings, you know?"

Martin hums, lips pursed as he tries to imagine Atla reading literature that most high schoolers would struggle through. "Wow, I didn't think Attie would be interested in anything like that, not when she's so young at least. I wouldn't have dreamed-"

You cut Martin off with a laugh that bubbles out of you in the most unflattering, unattractive way. It continues past the hand you have clamped over your mouth, catching Martin off guard until he laughs along with you. You'd be embarrassed if you weren't unafraid of being yourself with Martin. He embraces your quirks, especially the bits that make you, you.

"Mar I'm kidding," you wheeze when you're able to catch your breath. "I wouldn't read that to a student! Gosh, she's far too young for something like that!"

"Good because I was gonna start questioning your teaching ability! I was thinking whether or not I'd need to report you… I'm glad I don't have to make that decision!" Martin laughs, running a hand through his blonde hair. The few strands that stick straight up only add to his natural charm, somehow making him more attractive. You find yourself wondering if his locks are as soft as they look. If you ran your own hand through them, would they fall flat again or would they leave the same endearing spikes behind?

When the laughter fades, a comfortable silence falls as you both snack on the array of snacks provided. Silences normally feel stagnant and bloated with words left unsaid, which is why you avoid them as often as possible. But it isn't that way with Martin. The quiet is comfortable and for once you don't feel the need to fill it with a random story from your childhood or an out of pocket fact about architecture. With Martin, you embrace the lack of speech and instead focus on the soft music playing from a hidden speaker.

At one point you peel back the curtain to peek outside and are greeted with a stunning view of the Tower Bridge. The lights of the city create rippling constellations on the Thames. When you've had your fill of drinking in the city, Martin asks about your hometown, your family, your friends, anything and everything to keep you chatting. You ask him questions of your own when he leaves you space to interject, but overall he seems more interested in getting to know the real you than letting you past his walls.

That's fine, you can work with that. This is only one singular date, the first of many if you're hopeful. Seeing as you've not embarrassed yourself yet, there's every reason to believe Martin will ask you on a second, and at that time you can turn the tables on him and learn what makes him tick.

Martin checks his watch and smiles to himself. "If you peek outside again, you should see the parliament building, I always forget the name. But I know you said one day that you wanted to see it from the water, so I thought why not do that tonight?"

"No way!" Throwing all manners out the window, you grip the windowsill with your fingertips and haul yourself around to confirm what he's said. "How did you remember that? I mentioned it ages ago!"

"I remember most of what you say, all of the important things at least."

Luck is a fickle thing. Is it finding a four leaf clover in a field of threes, or is it finding a penny on heads? Luck can be waking up on time when an alarm isn't set, or it can be this: landing a date with the man of your dreams, who goes out of his way to ensure you're aware that he values you as much as you value him.

*********

An hour later, Martin's rented boat has docked where your journey began. Martin helps you climb to street level, where the two of you now walk aimlessly at a leisurely pace.

Martin's expectations for tonight hadn't been high. He's surprised by how easy it is to talk to you. You take turns asking baseless, silly questions, like how impossible it is that some people find pineapple to be a suitable pizza topping. Neither of you are willing to let the night end, but when you begin to shiver, Martin knows he cannot be selfish any longer.

"Can I drive you home?" Martin asks finally. "You're on my way anyway, so you can't say it would be an inconvenience to me. And by the way, I would still offer if you lived across the city."

"Yes, I think you can. I'd appreciate that, Mar, thank you."

Martin's eyes are stuck on your smile. It consumed his thoughts for days, made his own lips tingle with the need to feel them pressed to yours, to discover whether you taste as sweet as you smell. Martin wonders, not for the first time, if you think of him at night the way he does of you. He needs to know, sooner rather than later. All it would take is him leaning forward a few inches and he would know.

But Martin can't shake the intuition that moving too fast with you might be a mistake. And it's not just the fact that he hasn't kissed anyone in three years. It's that he doesn't want you to write him off as just another man who wants nothing more than to take you home and undress you. Martin wants more than that. He wants to know what lies beneath the surface. He has too many unanswered questions to let you slip away from him because he can't think of anything but how you might feel pressed against him.

Plus, he has a daughter at home. Martin can't just bring you over whenever he pleases, and he knows that as soon as he gets a taste of you, he'll be addicted. Once won't be enough; he'll need you every second of every day.

"That Audi is yours, isn't it? It's very nice. I love the color."

"It's just gray," Martin notes, thankful that you don't call him out for staring. "Nothing special. It's not even a premium color, it's just one off the showroom floor."

You shrug those elegant, slender shoulders. "Still, I think it's pretty. I don't know much about cars, but- oh!" You hold your hands over your head as the skies suddenly open up, the beginnings of a downpour rumbling in the clouds. Martin immediately slings his jacket off and holds it over you, shielding you from the rain as you both walk towards the car as quickly as your heels allow.

Rain. Martin hates rain. It's slippery and dangerous and nothing good ever comes of it. Your foot slips as you step off the curb and Martin lurches for you, catching you in time to keep you upright.

"Please be careful," Martin says, more than a hint of panic in his voice. That familiar, unwelcome fear begins crawling its way up his throat. He hates this, he hates all of it. He should have insisted on getting you home earlier, when he could've been positive you'd be safe. Now it had to go and bloody rain, ruining a perfect night.

"I'm okay Martin, really! I'm alright." You smile when he opens the passenger door for you. He takes your hand not to be polite but because his soul demands he ensures you're alright. When did his chest get so tight? Why are his fingers tingling? God, Martin can’t form a single coherent thought.

Martin closes your door and stands in the rain for a few seconds, letting it pelt his skin. It's frigid. His shirt is stuck to his skin, probably semi transparent by now. He doesn't care. He lets the chill ground him until you knock on the inside of his window and break him out of his head. Martin hurries around to the driver's seat and starts the engine, messing with the climate controls and the lights until he's got them perfect. His mind is running faster than an Olympic sprinter and he can't hold onto a single thought longer than a second, except for one.

Keep my solskin safe.

Martin knows he holds no ownership over you. Certainly not after one date, and probably not ever. Not if he continues to act like a skittish cat who can't keep his head together.

"Mar, are you alright?"

The soft melody of your voice breaks through his internal panic. Your fingers graze the back of his hand, his grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled. For once, Martin is thankful he's had the foresight to drown himself in cologne or else he’d probably stink to the heavens.

"I'm fine," comes Martin's strained reply. He's not fine. He's anything but fine, actually. He'd rather knee slide on asphalt than drive in this sort of weather. And now he's meant to get you home safely? Martin isn't sure he trusts himself to do so.

"Do you not like driving in the rain?” There you go again, reading him like an open book. Just this once, Martin wishes he could be an enigma, that you couldn’t see into the depths of his mind with a single glance. “We could call an Uber, it would be fine-"

"No," Martin snaps. Regret washes over him in an instant when you blink, taken aback. You hide it well, but Martin still notices because it's you and he notices everything when it comes to you. He hates himself for it but he can’t help it, you distract him any time you’re close enough for him to smell your floral shampoo.

"Okay, then we can sit here until it lets up a bit." You try to pry Martin's fingers off the wheel with a gentleness he does not deserve. He’s upset you and yet your instinct is still to try comforting him.

"No," Martin repeats, softer this time. "I can do it." Martin pulls away from the curb using no more than a toe on the accelerator, his left foot hovering over the brake just in case. His eyes dart across the road and between all of his mirrors, on high alert for anything or anyone out of place. He doesn't realize you've turned the radio off until you clear your throat and it startles him.

Martin is wound tighter than a two dollar watch, near his breaking point. His fingers ache thanks to his death grip on the wheel, his eyes fatigued from working overtime. Though he takes great, gasping gulps of air, his lungs feel starved of oxygen. He swears he smells perfume, which wouldn't be concerning, except for the fact that it isn't your perfume he smells, but that of someone else who used to occupy his passenger seat.

"Mar? Just turn here, it's a touch longer but there's less traffic."

Martin operates on autopilot to follow your directions, joints protesting due to the tension held in his muscles as he turns the wheel. Martin swears under his breath when the car behind gets a touch too close for comfort. He's well aware that to the average person it was an acceptable distance, but in all honesty, Martin would rather be the one and only vehicle on the road at this moment in time.

Martin counts his lucky stars when your house comes into view. Nothing tragic has happened on this trip, and he can finally relax knowing you're home safe. Getting himself back in one piece, on the other hand…

"I have a guest room." Martin swears you can read his thoughts. "You could spend the night, I think there's some sweatpants in one of my drawers that my brother left behind at some point… you don't have to drive home in this awful weather, Mar."

There is little Martin detests more than pity. Of all the emotions that compose the human experience, pity is one of the few Martin wishes to eradicate. Since Maria died, Martin has received an endless stream of 'poor Martin, being a single parent is a struggle, you must be struggling all on your own' or sentiments along those lines. He hates knowing other people think that he becomes small when faced with a challenge. It's just rain- Martin won't let a spout of nasty weather defeat him.

"I'll be fine," Martin says, mindful of his tone. Over the years he's found it easier to mask his true feelings by ensuring his voice remains level and even. On the pitch, letting your opponent know you're afraid can be the first domino that falls in defeat. In life, it's much the same. Martin refuses to let you see the side of him that he has fought so hard to protect.

"If you say so." You fiddle with the straps on your bag, searching outside the car for a distraction. Martin forcibly drags himself into the present, pushes any thoughts of the past from his mind.

"I'll walk you to your door. Wait there?" When you nod, Martin grabs his jacket and comes around the passenger side, doing his best to shield you from the lingering storm that insists on ruining the perfect night. You climb the handful of steps slowly, like someone reluctant to come home because they know they're in for a scolding. Except in this case it should be Martin that is reluctant, because he doesn't want to leave you with a sour impression.

You crowd closer to Martin under the safety of the awning. This close, he can see the tiny hairs plastered to your forehead but he doesn't care, he still thinks you're as gorgeous now as you were when you peered at him over the canal railing. He'll take you dressed up, dressed down, or looking like you went for a dip in the ocean; he doesn't care, as long as he's with you and you're safe.

"Be careful on your drive home, will you? Don't go crashing and ruining that pretty face of yours."

Why does the universe insist on constantly reminding Martin what he's lost?

"I'll let you know when I've made it home," is Martin's tense reply. It's not your fault that your joke hit his fears squarely on the head. He hates that he can't forget and move on.

"Well… goodnight Mar."

In romance novels, this is the part where the love interest initiates a passionate kiss. The main character will act surprised but really she saw it coming; she's planned for it after all. If Martin were living in one of those novels, he'd brush the hair off your cheek and cup your jaw, tilting you towards him for the mind-blowing, earth-shattering kiss that he's dreamed of for weeks.

But Martin is a rational man, as most Scandinavians are. He is not in the headspace to facilitate such romantic gestures, nor does he want his first kiss with you to be overshadowed with thoughts of Maria.

God, Maria. Martin misses her. For half a second, Martin swears the light tints your eyes the same shade of vibrant blue that he called home for so long, there and gone in a flash. Guilt hits him like a freight train, knocking him right back to square one.

"Goodnight, solskin."

You catch Martin's wrist when he turns to leave. Before he can open his mouth to ask why, you rise up on your tiptoes and press your plush, soft lips to his cheek. Immediately, Martin's soul rights itself. His vision clears, his mind quirks, and he finds his center. You replace the fear in his bones with a calm that he only ever experiences with a ball at his feet or with Atla in his arms.

Perhaps home, too, is a fickle thing. Sometimes it's rings on fingers accompanied by promises of forever. A family can feel like home too, with children running and laughing, creating messes and memories. Other times it's rain-soaked cheek kisses that speak greater volumes than a thousand words. Home can be as simple as this: feeling one's semblance of self return, thanks to no more than a smile on the lips of a woman one admires.

#oof this is a long one #martin odegaard #martin Ødegaard #martin odegaard fic #martin odegaard fanfic #martin odegaard imagine #martin odegaard fantasy #arsenal fc #jac writes #alt timeline lover

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redjademilktea · 5 months ago

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Hello hello! This idea for an Imodna fic has been sitting in my head for *ages* now. I'm gonna be working on this first chapter later tonight, but I'm just kind of excited to share before I polish this thing up and post Chapter 1 to AO3!! It's a modern AU, set in Exandria. Imogen is a Ph.D. in Sociology at Dayal Hall University in Jrusar. And Laudna... well, let's just say this is an exes-to-lovers type of deal. Recent canon angst compels me I suppose. Anyway, please enjoy the snippet!

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Imogen pinched the bridge of her nose between her eyes. She’d been staring at this damn screen all day and it was starting to strain her vision. Normally, she’d be arms deep in grading assignments, wrapping up last minute lecture notes, finishing up office hours, literally anything else other than staring at her now empty email inbox. An impressive feat no doubt, Imogen idly noted. She can’t remember the last time it had even stayed this clear. A testament to her sheer boredom in the moment.

When she glanced back again and her still empty inbox, she thudded her head against her desk. The confirmation email should have been sent hours ago. She should be already back in her apartment, well into packing for her research trip to the Heartmoor by now. But instead she remained stuck in her office at Dayal Hall University. Patiently – very patiently – awaiting the confirmation email from the assistant archivist from the Heartmoor Hamlet Folklore, Oddities, and Curiosities Museum to finally confirm her appointment time so she could forward it to her chair the Sociology department admin staff to confirm the start of her sabbatical.

She let out a pained groan as the page she had refreshed for the twentieth time in five minutes remained unchanged. Defeated, she glanced around her office, tapping a pen to her desk as she did so. In the left side of the office, the low coffee table surrounded by assorted seating and a lone bean bag laid undisturbed in the corner. The bright yellow rug and strategically placed lighting provided a warmth to help combat the harsh fluorescent lights above. While normally reserved for students during her office hours, her pending sabbatical rendered them empty for the time being.

Huffing out a sigh, her gaze shifted to the right side of her office. Large bookshelves filled with monographs across disciplines lined the shelves, though most of the titles remained firmly within the realm of sociology. Imogen passively noted the growing number of office plants that seemed to be appearing without her knowledge. At least one or two had made their way from the tops to the actual shelves themselves, obfuscating the books behind them as their sprawling leaves spilled over their potted houses.

On top of one of the lower bookshelves sat a framed diploma, reading:

Starpoint Conservatory

Department of Sociology confers onto

Imogen Temult

The degree of Doctorate in Philosophy

Below the ornate frame next to yet another potted plant Imogen did not remember acquiring sat several framed photos. While the majority of them were from her time at Dayal Hall – a mix of faculty photos, candid shots of university sponsored outings, and conference shots – one in particular pulled her drifting thoughts.

In the photo, a recently graduated Imogen stood, awkward smile and stiff posture unaided by the weight of various leis and her doctoral regalia, next to a woman with braided hair flowing over the shoulder of her tan blazer. The woman bore a striking resemblance to Imogen, but tired, sunken eyes belied her wary demeanor. It was the first time she’d seen her mother in over a decade. And it was the last time she’d seen her since.

Imogen wondered, then, what her mother – the renowned anthropologist Dr. Liliana Temult from the Aydinlan Seminary in Yios – thought of her career. Her mother’s focus on her career and work had driven a wedge in her family relationship to be sure. It was part of the reason Imogen chose a smaller university to establish her academic career in the first place. One of the only things her mother had ever really said to her on the rare occasion they spoke over the phone was to stay away from the academy and the rigor of it all. Ruefully, she was reminded of the sorry state of their relationship now, all communication conducted over formal channels, sent from Liliana’s university email.

Next to the frame sat a small, stuffed white horse. Imogen’s melted into a short-lived fondness over the plush before the edges of a well-trodden sadness began to seep in. She told herself she kept the plush to make her office feel more welcoming and homely. That her students could feel more at ease knowing she wasn’t just some hardass professor and that they could trust her.

But the unspoken truth remained. The horse – Flora, after her childhood horse in Gelvaan – remained there because of what it reminded her of. Of who it reminded her of. Being gifted the small plush was, of course, the last time she ever saw L-

A knock at the door shook her from her spiraling thoughts. Imogen shook her head slightly, as if to clear the lingering fraught emotions from her mind.

Imogen cleared her throat, “Door’s unlocked.”

At that, the door opened, the familiar gentle and deliberate turn of the handle bringing a small smile to her face. The door further opened as Orym made his way into her office. In his hand, a stack of books reaching well past his head was delicately balanced as he gracefully moved towards her desk.

“Got the books you wanted,” Orym said, placing the stack down with surprising ease.

“You didn’t have to bring ‘em all at once,” Imogen said, smirking

“I know. But I didn’t know how much longer you’d be here.”

“I’ll be here all night if I don’t get this damn confirmation email,” Imogen huffed, slinking down her office chair.

“They still haven’t gotten back to you?” Orym raised an eyebrow.

“No. Been starin’ at my inbox all day waitin’ for it. Thanks for these by the way,” Imogen tilted her head towards the tall stack of texts. She grabbed the book at the top and began thumbing through it. The cover read Home Under the Moonlight: Werewolves and the Queer Imaginary in the Gloomed Jungles.

“Any time,” Orym nodded. “And they probably just need a few hours. Sounds like a small operation.”

“Yeah,” Imogen sighed. “And this small operation is makin’ me regret my career choices with every damn minute they don’t send that confirmation.”

“Ooh I’m hearing something about regretting career choices.” Imogen looked up to watch as Fearne casually strolled into her office, moving around Orym to place the potted plant in her hands onto another shelf. “I hear so many professors say that. I think it must mean I’m pretty good at it since I don’t regret anything.”

“Pretty good at what, Fearne?” Imogen asked flatly, finally understanding the source of the growing garden that was supposed to be her office.

“At professoring,” Fearne wiggled her eyebrows.

Truth be told, Imogen never did figure out what department Fearne worked in, let alone if she was even faculty at all. Imogen had only just recently accepted her position at Dayal Hall when Fearne wandered in on her setting up her new office, vaguely alluding to some “professorly obligation” to introduce herself to “the hot new hire in the Soc department.” Despite the odd introduction, Imogen had been grateful to not have to start out so alone. Not after… everything. And Fearne and her became close quickly. Fearne helped Imogen get acquainted with Orym, the university’s head librarian, and the two have been indispensable to Imogen ever since.

Imogen eyed the new foliage adorning her bookshelf before looking at Orym, who simply shared a slightly bemused look with her. “Fearne, what are you do-,” Imogen started before realizing the futility of the question and changing course. “I’m gonna be on sabbatical, Fearne. I won’t be- I can’t take care of these plants if I’m not here.”

“Oh it’s okay,” Fearne said, reassuringly. “I have a key to your office. Me and Orym can take turns plant sitting while you’re gone.” Fearne produced a key from her pocket, waving it at Imogen before slipping it back.

“How did- Fearne. You can’t have a copy of my office k-”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. Geeze louise. Professors share keys all the time. It’s part of the pact.”

Imogen struggled to string together a response before a flash on her computer monitor caught her eye. Hurriedly, Imogen rushed to open the newly received email.

Hello Dr. Temult!

I’m so sorry for the delay! I had a few visitor sentiment surveys that demanded my attention!

Anyway, I am writing to confirm your appointment for next Grisson afternoon at 3 P.M. Look for me at the front desk!

Thank you,

Prism Grimpoppy

Ph.D. Candidate – University of the Heartmoor

Archival Assistant

“Finally,” Imogen muttered under her breath. She forwarded the email before slamming her laptop closed in relief. “Looks like I’m headin’ off,” Imogen said, turning to Orym and Fearne.

“Good luck,” Orym said. And then, carefully, “Just… let us know if you need anything while you’re out there,” Orym added, placing a gentle hand onto Imogen’s shoulder. Imogen winced slightly.

“I’ll be fine,” Imogen said, tensing her jaw. She knew Orym meant well. She knew. Fearne and Orym didn’t know every single detail. But they knew about the last time Imogen had done a big research trip like this. How she had a… tumultuous experience to say the least.

What they didn’t know was the depth and scope of the hurt. What they didn’t know was just how much pain, stress, fear, and loss she had experienced then. How she almost withdrew from the program, taking a leave to go back to Gelvaan for a year to reckon with the extent of her hurt. They didn’t know how much she withdrew into herself, wrestling with the scars left as she trudged her way through writing her dissertation and scraping past the finish line, battered, bruised, degree in hand. They didn’t know that it was when her and Laudna–

“Okay,” Orym said. “But just so you know. We’re here.”

“Thanks,” Imogen responded. A muted, but still fond smile grew on her lips.

“And hey,” Fearne added, “maybe you can take this time to do some personal research if you know what I mean.”

“Fearne,” Imogen rolled her eyes as she packed up her bag.

“What? Archives can be so romantic.”

#imodna #my fic #little snippet!!#the academia AU no one asked for #why yes I am projecting academic trauma thank you for noticing

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