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ncssian · 3 years ago

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A Favor: Part Twenty-Seven

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: working a full time job + part time job tutoring english + applying for scholarships + still having free time left is a lot harder than i thought it would be. which is my way of saying this chapter should've been done a week ago lol.

i call this my goodbye chapter b/c goodbyes are made.

***

As Nesta brings the last of her things into the cabin, Azriel takes the last of his stuff out.

Standing beside Cassian, Nesta watches Azriel shut the trunk over the final box of his belongings. With all the extra stuff he stole from the cabin, it almost seemed like everything wouldn’t fit into his tiny car, but here he is. Ready to go.

He dusts off his leather jacket and approaches her and Cassian. “This is goodbye,” he says, coming to a stop before them.

Nesta once thought this would be the happiest day of her life, second to her wedding day. She should have predicted that her rightful joy would be extinguished by sentimentality.

Cassian claps Azriel on the shoulder, the two brothers having already said their goodbyes in private. Still, Nesta can see a little sorrow in Cassian’s eyes, as if he also got too used to having Az around all the time.

Azriel, the dick, reveals nothing through his eyes. Neither does Nesta.

The two of them look at each other awkwardly for a moment, and then he comes in to hug her. Nesta hugs him back, arms crossing around his broad back, but it has the same stiffness as two Barbie dolls being made to kiss each other.

When Azriel tries to pull away, Nesta clutches him to her with surprising strength. “I know about the picture,” she says lowly in his ear.

“Too late to take it back now.” She might feel him smile on top of her hair.

Nesta lets go of Azriel swiftly, having had enough physical contact with him to last a year. “Drive safe, so Elain can find you in one piece,” she orders.

Azriel grimaces at that, reminded of what waits for him in Velaris. Whatever Elain decides to give him, it’ll probably be deserved.

“I’ll get going then.” Az starts backing away, and Nesta hears Cassian sniffle. She looks toward her boyfriend in concern, but he circles his huge arms around her shoulders and pulls her back to his chest before she can catch him getting teary-eyed.

They watch Azriel get in his car and drive away. Nesta waves until the car disappears fully into the thickness of the surrounding trees, waves until her arms are too tired to keep going.

Once Az is gone, she turns in Cassian’s embrace and jumps up into his arms. Her legs hook around his hips and his hands fit themselves under her thighs. She smiles and tells him, “Let’s go home.”

Ten minutes later, they find themselves sitting in the silence of the kitchen. It’s the quiet of a house adjusting to a missing person, and Azriel’s absence is tangible.

Cassian is the first to break the silence. “Do you think he’s past city limits by now?” he asks as he stirs his coffee.

“No.” Nesta turns the page of her book, focused on reading. “Not if he stopped by Gwyn’s before leaving.”

She hears Cassian stop stirring. “What does that mean?” he says.

Nesta looks up at him and shrugs. “It means he probably wants to say goodbye to her.”

***

“One charge of assault, one for battery, and one huge lawsuit against my company,” Rhys reads aloud from the file in front of him.

Cassian waves a hand in dismissal. “Just make it go away like you always do.”

Rhysand’s near-violet eyes narrow with barely restrained rage. “Cassian. You shattered an employee’s hand.”

“Hey, O’Connell.” Cassian strolled up to him early last Monday morning. The underground parking lot was near empty at this hour, since most workers wouldn’t come in until nine. “How was the rest of your weekend?”

O’Connell looked up from getting his bag out of his car, clearly surprised to see Cassian willingly make small talk with him. “It was good,” he answered lightly. “You left Velaris early, though.”

“Yeah, about that.” Cassian came to a stop by O’Connell’s car and held out his hand, catching the car door before it could be shut. “I had to take my girlfriend home.”

O’Connell looked confused, but nodded along. “That’s nice. Can you—?” He gestured at the car door, indicating to Cassian to let go.

Cassian didn’t. “What hand did you use?”

“Excuse me?”

“When you touched her,” Cassian clarified. “What hand did you use when you touched her?”

O’Connell’s look of confusion morphed into one of contempt. “What the hell are you talking about, man?”

“Nesta Archeron.” Cassian straightened up, hand tightening over the top of the car door. “Your old college friend.” Realization dawned across O’Connell’s face, but he still hadn’t answered Cassian’s question.

“If you don’t tell me now, I’ll have to take my pick.” Cassian clicked his tongue in disappointment. “You’re left-handed, aren’t you?” He snatched up O’Connell’s left hand, and in a flash O’Connell was pressed up against the car, his hand pinned to the doorframe.

“Hey, wait, what are you—” O’Connell protested.

The sound of a car door slamming shut on a hand was louder than Cassian expected. It was the crunch of bones and muscle followed by immediate screaming.

“It could have been worse,” Cassian said flatly over O’Connell’s cries of pain. “It could have been your tongue, since you like talking shit so much.”

Cassian blinks out of the memory. “So what if I did?” he shrugs in response to Rhys.

“You are a member of my inner circle,” Rhysand fumes. “Keith O’Connell is a respected figure in our industry and a higher up from Vanserra and Co., and the head of our Milan outpost, but you saw fit to take out justice on him without asking me first.”

“You had nothing to do with it.”

“That is not up to you!” Rhysand jabs a finger at Cassian. “What will our shareholders think when they hear about this? What will the board members say?”

Cassian is starting to get irritated now. “They won’t find out, because you won’t tell them,” he says firmly. “We both know you’ve covered up worse things to fit your agenda, but it’s a problem if I don’t want a creepy bastard working under my jurisdiction?”

Having learned most of his business tricks from his father, Rhys is no perfectly clean CEO himself. He would’ve done far worse to O’Connell if it was Feyre in Nesta’s place, and he would have ended it all with a speech about how abusers and their sympathizers have no place at Night Court Inc.

The thought only inflames Cassian more; maybe he’s still riding off the anger of O’Connell making Nesta cry.

Tempering his feelings, he tells Rhys, “When you’re done shutting O’Connell up,” because Rhys would do it no matter how angry he pretended to be, “make sure Nesta never finds out about this.”

Rhys sits back in his chair, a bitter smirk pulling at his mouth. “Afraid she’ll be horrified of what a brute her sweet boyfriend is?”

Cassian nearly snorts at the image of Nesta recoiling at a broken hand. She’d probably call him weak for not shoving O’Connell into a ravine. “No,” he answers tiredly. “It’s not violence that offends her, but if she finds out it was in her name… I don’t want to put that on her shoulders.” Which is a shame, because in any other situation Nesta would love to hear about the unfortunate circumstances that led to O’Connell quitting his job.

Rhys lets loose a long sigh. “Damn, you both scare me.” After a few moments, he asks, “Now what are we going to do about Milan?”

***

Life after moving in with Cassian passes by quickly, and before Nesta knows it, she’s completed her second year of law school.

As for the boys who were some of her first friends and drinking companions, back when Nesta barely knew the definition of a friend—today they complete their final year of law school.

Nesta fans herself with the pamphlet she was handed at the beginning of the graduation ceremony, trying to stop the harsh morning sun from melting the makeup off her face. The audience is packed like sardines onto one huge field, and the announcer on stage hasn’t even reached the last names that start with D. Eris, Justinian, and Isaac are all near the bottom of the alphabet.

“Do we really need to be here today?” Nesta murmurs to Emerie, squirming in her metal foldout chair.

Sitting at her right, Emerie throws her a scolding look. “Don’t be like that. We’re never going to see these guys again.”

Nesta sincerely doubts that, considering how none of the guys are moving more than a few hours away. But her uterus is raising hell right now, even though her new meds have put a stop to her periods. Paired with the ache in her back from these terrible chairs, she’s about to call it quits and go straight home.

“Nesta!”

She whips her head to the left, finding Elain striding through the row of chairs to reach the empty seat beside her.

Like watching the Red Sea part, everyone in the row pulls their feet back and makes themselves as small as possible so Elain can have a clear walkway.

Nesta moves the purse she used to save Elain’s seat aside, and Elain drops her butt onto the little foldout chair like it’s a throne.

“A little warm for an outdoor ceremony, don’t you think?” Elain fans her face.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here, you know,” Nesta says.

“Eris made me. I haven’t talked to him since I broke up with his brother, but I think he wants to look like he has a lot of friends here.”

“Yeah, that checks out,” Emerie mutters from Nesta’s other side.

Elain seems to take notice of Emerie for the first time, and her Southern charm turns on like a switch. “Oh my, I don’t think we’ve met.”

Elain introduces herself and Emerie does the same, smiling and nodding politely, and Nesta can’t even decide if she likes this crossover because she’s too busy massaging her aching abdomen.

A string of “Excuse me, sorry!”s go up in the row they’re sitting in, and a moment later a familiar face plops down on the chair to Emerie’s right.

Gwyn leans over Emerie and holds a bottle of Advil out to Nesta. “This is all I could find in my car, babe.”

Nesta releases a sigh of relief and snatches the bottle. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

Elain’s gaze moves to the medicine, then to Gwyn. “You must be Gwyn.” She offers a smile. “I’m Nesta’s sister, Elain.”

Gwyn’s eyes widen imperceptibly, and Nesta realizes she should have warned Gwyn that Elain would be here.

Going off how Gwyn’s been acting the last few weeks, Nesta can only assume that she influenced Azriel’s final decision to move away, whether directly or indirectly. Nesta doesn’t even know much about what happened between the two of them during their weird sex deal, considering that she and Gwyn promised to never discuss such horrible things with each other.

All Nesta knows is that Azriel is Gwyn’s closest male friend, and close friends that have also slept together probably don’t want to bump into each other’s exes without warning.

“Are you here to see Eris graduate, too?” Elain asks.

Gwyn looks like a deer caught in headlights. “Who? Oh—no, I’m just here so we can drive to brunch together after.” Her voice gets quieter with each word, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Nice to meet you,” she adds in a murmur, her face a furious shade of red. She quickly looks forward at the stage as if the graduation ceremony is the most fascinating thing ever.

Elain doesn’t note the odd behavior, instead refocusing on the Advil pills that Nesta pops into her mouth and swallows dry. “Are you still hurting?” Elain says, furrowing her thin brows. “I thought you got that problem fixed.”

Nesta tries not to snort as she accepts the bottle of water that Emerie wordlessly passes her. “You can’t ‘fix’ endometriosis, Elain. That’s not how it works.”

“Oh. Well how was I supposed to know that?”

Nesta slides unamused hooded eyes to her sister. Before she can retort anything, Emerie elbows her hard. “Look, it’s Isaac!”

She refocuses on the ceremony, cheering and clapping half-heartedly as Isaac takes the stage. It’s not that she doesn’t care about her study buddies; it’s just that she feels like shit right now.

Justinian follows suit a few minutes later, grinning and waving when he spies Emerie cheering for him. Gwyn is distracted on her phone through all of it.

The Advil has finally started to kick in when Nesta murmurs to Elain, “How is Azriel adjusting to being back in the city?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Elain answers innocently. “I haven’t seen much of him since he returned.”

“Just spill it,” Nesta says. “Azriel wouldn’t tell me anything, so I’m assuming he’s humiliated about it.”

Elain sighs, delicately pushing her hair behind her shoulder. “He came to me to talk. I heard him out, and then we went back to his apartment for coffee, and then I took my fabric scissors and cut out the crotch from all his pants.”

Nesta raises a brow. “All of them?”

“All of them.”

Nesta shrugs, turning back to face the stage. “It’s good enough. I could have done worse.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not me, isn’t it?” Elain snips.

Nesta won’t say it, but she supposes she is a little happy for Elain. In fact, she thinks this might be the first time Elain has stood up for herself instead of letting Nesta handle it.

After the ceremony is over, Emerie goes off to congratulate Isaac and Justinian. Gwyn follows so she can get away from Elain, and Nesta, being sweaty and overstimulated and more than ready to leave, settles for waving her arms and grinning at the boys from across the field.

She’s about to say goodbye to Elain and make a beeline for the parking lot when she spots a head of shining red hair approaching her. No—make that two heads.

Eris looked unbearably snooty as he received his degree, likely smug with the fact that he has a comfortable job at a family friend’s corporate law firm lined up for him after he passes the Bar. Nesta admits that she’s a little disappointed in him: after all his talk of working hard and being the smartest person in the room, he ended up riding his father’s coattails to a disgustingly high salary. But maybe that is hard work for him, considering that there was such a ruckus in the Vanserra family when he chose to go into law instead of business.

As for Lucien… Well, Nesta really has no idea what the kid does, but she knows he looks good, better than the last time she saw him. An early summer tan makes him glow in comparison to his brother, while lean forearms are revealed under the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt. He looks comfortable in a way he wasn’t at Thanksgiving all those months ago.

Even with his ex standing just a few feet away.

“Elain,” Lucien greets her with a foxlike smile.

Elain rolls her eyes in response and turns to Eris. “Congratulations on graduating, hun. Now that we’re even, kindly delete my number from your phone and never call me again.”

Even? Nesta raises a brow, wondering what that could possibly mean.

“I take it this is goodbye?” Eris tells her.

“I’m already leaving,” Elain says sweetly. She blows a kiss at Eris, then Nesta. “Feel better soon,” she chirps at her, before striding away in her pastel pink heels.

Very jealous of Elain getting to escape before she can, Nesta calls after her, “Hot date to catch?” She’s wearing the signature perfume she usually does when meeting with a man.

Elain tosses over her shoulder, “Something like that.” Her purse swings as she disappears around a corner to the parking lot.

Nesta watches her go with envy, and when she turns back she finds Eris already looking at her. Meanwhile, Lucien still has his eyes glued to the spot where Elain disappeared.

“You feel sick?” Eris asks her.

“No thank you, I have a boyfriend,” Nesta replies on instinct.

Eris scoffs once in indignation, then twice. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he says with disbelief. “I can care about my friends, you know.”

“You want her,” Lucien mutters.

Nesta’s eyes snap to Lucien, who seems to be acknowledging her presence for the first time today. “And what do you want?” She tilts her head at him, intrigued at having a new playmate. He’s less predictable than Eris, at the very least.

Lucien looks at her and offers a sheepish smile. “Nothing you can give me.”

Eris rolls his eyes at the both of them, clearly regretting bringing his brother along with him. “I’m already bored of this conversation,” he laments. “I’m out; the D.A. is here and I want to say hi. Find me when you’re done, punk.” Eris bonks Lucien on the head with his rolled up diploma and starts walking away, only pausing to extend a mocking bow to Nesta. “We’re not over yet, Archeron,” he calls as he leaves.

Now it’s Nesta’s and Lucien’s turn to roll their eyes.

With only the two of them left, Nesta feels obliged to ask awkwardly, “So… how’ve you been?”

Lucien’s gaze slides to her. “I didn’t know you were Elain’s sister,” he says.

She huffs a laugh. “I didn’t know you were her ex at first, either. Does it matter?”

Lucien’s mouth turns down in thought, but he doesn’t answer her question. “I’m doing good,” he says in response to her former question instead. “I’ve been living the nomad life, traveling around with friends, roadtripping in a van.”

But would you come home for Elain? Nesta can’t help but wonder.

She didn’t know Lucien had dated Elain until after her first meeting with him, but even then it had been something of a throwaway detail. Elain dates lots of guys, and falls in love with even more of them. She seemed to barely remember Lucien’s name when Nesta first brought it up in front of her.

But for some inexplicable reason, Nesta genuinely likes Lucien. A part of her recognizes something similar in a part of him, and it makes her sad to imagine him being stuck on a girl who won’t think about him twice.

“Take my advice,” Nesta tells him bluntly, “and move on if you haven’t yet. Staring after Elain when she already broke up with you will get you nowhere.” Elain isn’t the type to ever look back, and she never falls for the same man twice.

Lucien just looks at Nesta with a blank face. “I broke up with her,” he says.

Nesta’s mouth falls open.

“And,” he adds, “I was staring at her ass.” He starts walking backwards to his brother, giving Nesta an innocent grin as he leaves. “It was nice meeting again. See you in another six months.”

Nesta is dumbfounded watching him go, not knowing what to do with this new knowledge. As far as she knows, no one has ever broken up with Elain except for Azriel—and that ended in Az losing all of his pants.

It only occurs to Nesta that she shouldn’t have let Lucien get away with that ass comment when Emerie and Gwyn suddenly appear at her side, each of them interlocking an arm with hers. “You feeling better?” Emerie inquires cheerfully. “Ready to go?”

Nesta nods slowly, forcefully putting Lucien Vanserra and his too-sly demeanor out of her mind. He isn’t her problem right now. Summer is already here with a vengeance, and she’ll only have so much free time with the people she loves most. So she chooses to focus only on them.

Tugging her friends closer and squeezing their arms, Nesta asks, “Where are we eating?”

***

a/n: this needs sooo much more editing lol i could have done a lot more with this chapter if i wasn’t constantly tired and pressed for free time. sorry y’all :/

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes@readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea @teagoddess99 @mystic-bibliophile

#nessian #ncssianwrites #nesta archeron #cassian #a favor #nessian au #nessian fic

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kokawrites · 3 years ago

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Blue Dream (Jikook)

Blue Dream (Jikook) pt. 1

⤏ Pairing: Jungkook x Jimin

⤏ Genres: college!au, frat!au, fwb!au, (eventual) fluff and angst, smut.

⤏ Rating: 18+

⤏ Summary: Jimin is a straight-A student and dance prodigy, an overachiever with unwavering determination to succeed. But when Jungkook comes crashing in, lighter in hand, he's all too willing to let him derail the course of his life. Maybe he had been waiting to watch it burn this whole time.

⤏ Word count: 3.6k

⤏ Notes and content warnings: lots of weed and alcohol in the series as a whole, sex under the influence of drugs/alcohol, explicit sex, explicit language, jimin is whipped and tipsy, dub-con kiss

a one-shot turned series lightly inspired by my own college experience HAHA i hope you enjoy!

dm or reply if you’d like to be added to the taglist. <3

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AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook gazed at him through glassy, half-lidded eyes, exhaling a wispy cloud that billowed around their heads. The smoke stung in Jimin’s lungs, his eyes pricking as he breathed it in.

“So pretty,” Jungkook breathed, pulling Jimin into his lap. “Wanna ruin you.”

And Jimin let him, sat and watched as he set him on fire from the inside out, flames licking at his insides and swallowing everything in their path. He blinked and everything he previously thought defined him, everything he had worked so hard for, was reduced to nothing but ash. But god, did he enjoy it.

Jimin was too engrossed in his essay to acknowledge his best friend when he opened the door to the study room, only mouthing a curt “Thank you” when he placed the coffee next to him. Three empty cups lay scattered on the table around him, and Taehyung looked at him disapprovingly, picking the cups up to toss them himself.

He heaved a sigh as he plopped into the chair across from Jimin. “How’s it going? How many pages do you have left?”

“I’m doing the conclusion now,” Jimin mumbled. “I’m not even gonna fucking edit it. Like, once I finish it, I’m done with it. I’m laying it to rest. Never gonna look at it again.”

Core classes could suck his dick. Why the hell did he, a freakin’ dance major, have to write a thesis about the moral and ethical implications of modern technology and its effects on the younger generation’s productivity levels, just to be able to graduate?

Taehyung let out a dry laugh. “Revising essays is for underclassmen. I just full-send everything nowadays, C’s get degrees and all that.”

Jimin grimaced. “C’s do not, however, make scholarship donors happy.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung said, wincing slightly.

Taehyung knew Jimin’s grades were a touchy subject, especially with how strict his parents were. They had allowed him to pursue dance, but on the condition that he would go somewhere he got a full ride for. The full ride part wasn’t hard, since Jimin was a fucking genius–it was the part where his parents gave him shit for not going to the “better” schools they made him apply to. He ended up at USC, but anytime Jimin’s grades were unsatisfactory to his parents, they brought up how he should’ve just gone to Columbia and studied law instead.

“On that note, though, guess who’s throwing a party tomorrow night?”

“ Tomorrow night?” Jimin asked, glancing at Taehyung incredulously. “In the middle of midterms? I know Joon is a prodigy, but he needs to give the rest of us a break.”

“It’s just a kickback, nothing too big.” Taehyung shrugged, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. “He said something about this new strain of weed he tried a few days ago and wanted to share it with everyone.”

“You know I don’t smoke,” Jimin said, fingers flying on the keyboard even as he talked to Taehyung. “It’s so bad for you.”

“Yet you’ll down a fifth of vodka by yourself no problem,” the other boy retorted with a scoff, a smug look on his face. “Just come to the party. Pregame at my place. C’mooon, it’ll be fun.”

~*~

“I thought you said it was a kickback!” Jimin yelled at Taehyung, his voice barely audible over the loud music blaring through the speakers. “I don’t even recognize any of these people!”

Entering the house felt like walking into a different dimension, one 15 degrees warmer, humid, and hazy. Jimin blinked his eyes to adjust to the strobing LED lights, wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of weed. He fanned the air in front of him while following closely behind Taehyung through the crowds of bodies, muttering apologies every few seconds whenever other people backed up against him.

Three couples were making out on the stairs, barely two or three steps away from each other, and Jimin watched, perplexed. He wasn’t some scandalized virgin, but he did sort of hate big social situations like this, much preferring the quiet of an empty dance studio that he had all to himself. In theory, he loved parties: he liked hanging out with people, dancing, playing games, drinking–but in practice, it was much sweatier, much louder, much more stressful. He only ever came to parties like this when Tae dragged him there, and this one was turning out to be almost as uncomfortable as that one house party they hit during Halloweekend, where someone got crossed and peed on the couch. The bar was high.

“Helloooo!” Taehyung shouted as he opened the door to Namjoon’s room, Jimin trailing behind him with a small wave. As soon as he stepped in, though, the smoke cloud entered his lungs and he coughed, his eyes watering as he tried to catch his breath. “You guys started without us, I see.”

“Yeah shit, sorry, we forgot to turn on the fan,” Hoseok laughed, getting up to switch on the box fan in the window. “You gonna be okay, Chim?”

Jimin nodded, raising the handle of vodka he had in his hand. “I’ll live.”

“You don’t smoke?” an unfamiliar voice asked, and Jimin’s eyes fell on quite possibly the most gorgeous man he had ever seen. He quirked a pierced brow up at Jimin, smoke rising around his face as he spoke.

“Right, you guys haven’t met yet,” Namjoon said, slinging an arm around the boy’s shoulders. The stranger smiled hazily at Jimin, his eyes crinkling slightly at the action. “This is Jungkookie, I’m planning on picking him up as a little in KASA. That’s Jimin and Taehyung. Those two are joined at the hip.”

“Call me Jungkook,” he said, his voice silky smooth. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“You’re being really obvious,” Taehyung whispered in Jimin’s ear as he pulled his hand to guide him to the spot next to Jungkook on the ground. Jimin tried not to look at him, but he could feel his eyes boring into him. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“So, no smoking?” Jungkook asked again, and Jimin clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, I’m a dancer. I try not to.”

Hoseok scoffed. “You literally have not smoked once in your entire life,” he teased. “You don’t ‘try not to’—you avoid that shit like the plague.”

“Hey, nothing wrong with that,” Jungkook said, handing the bong to Taehyung, who thanked him. “You don’t like what you don’t like. Though I will say, you're kind of missing out, especially with this new shit.” There was a teasing lilt in his voice, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Jimin was absolutely drowning.

He turned to look at Taehyung as he took a rip, watching the water in it bubble as he inhaled. Taehyung handed it to Yoongi, mouth pressing into a line as he held in the smoke, tilting his head back when he finally exhaled, blinking slowly. Jimin had to admit that his best friend was hot as fuck, especially like this. He bit his lip as he imagined what Jungkook looked like while doing that. He glanced over at said man to see him already looking at him, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling.

“I don’t know how I ever used to smoke out of a bong without ice,” Taehyung groaned, settling back on his palms. “It’s so crisp. Just felt like I was breathing normally. Fuck, it’s been too long.”

Jin’s squeaky laugh made everyone let out a chuckle, watching him struggle to get his words out through his laughing fit. He had always been a giggly high. “Re-Remember that time, we used a gra-gravity bong, and you got so fucking high you sent Jimin’s nudes–”

“You guys wanna play a game?” Jimin asked, and everyone made noises of agreement. He could feel Jungkook staring at him but he ignored it, his face flushing in embarrassment. That was not a story he was ready for Jungkook to hear.

It had been a couple weeks since they last all got together, most of them being in their junior and senior years. Jimin reminisced about the times when they all lived on campus, within walking distance of each other, even some of them just down the hall. A lot had changed since then, but one thing hadn’t:

“You fucking suck at this!” Hoseok yelled as Jimin took another pull, finishing off the last of the bottle, trying not to choke as Hoseok whacked his shoulder. He hadn’t drank that much, really, he just took large ones, and Jungkook and Tae had taken a couple of swigs as well. Jimin would never admit how much the sight of Jungkook’s lips wrapped around the opening of the bottle affected him. “We even gave you a handicap, and Jungkook homie stocked for you twice!!”

“Fuck off,” he groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and capping the empty bottle, placing it on the ground. He swatted Taehyung’s hand away when he reached over to ruffle his hair, making him laugh and punch his arm instead. “I hate this stupid game.”

“Let’s just chill and watch something,” Yoongi drawled, his eyes almost closed shut. He placed his controller on the coffee table, arm slinging over the back of the sofa. Everyone nodded, sinking into their seats on the couches, and Namjoon opened Netflix on the tv, selecting New Girl. Classic.

Jimin glanced around the room through his drunken haze, his vision lagging as his head moved around. He always wondered what it felt like to get high, or even crossed. He reached into the party size bag of chips in his lap and came up empty, groaning loudly. He didn’t miss the way Jungkook’s eyes fixed on him as the sound escaped his mouth. “Imma go grab some more chips from downstairs,” he slurred, sighing as he got to his feet.

No one really acknowledged him, too focused on the show, so Jimin just slipped out, stumbling a little more than he’d like to admit. The world was rocking underneath him, tossing him against the wall as he walked down the hallway, hand coming out to grasp at the door frame to his right. He paused there to lean his head against the wood, trying to steady himself.

“Hi, pretty,” a voice came from behind him, and Jimin’s brow furrowed. It didn’t sound like anyone he knew, so he was slow to raise his head, still leaning on the wall for support.

The stranger rested a hand on his shoulder as they came around to his front, and before Jimin could process anything, his mouth was being captured in a kiss, the hand on his shoulder coming up to roughly cup his jaw. Jimin panted into the stranger’s mouth, the pleasant feeling clashing with the confusion in his thoughts. He felt a tongue slide between his lips and he welcomed it, leaning into the wet warmth–and suddenly everything was gone, a loud “ hey!” and a thud making Jimin’s eyes fly open to see the sight in front of him.

Jungkook was holding some guy, presumably the one who had been kissing Jimin just now, up against the wall by the collar of his shirt, a venomous look in his eye. “Are we gonna have a problem?” he asked lowly, the other guy shaking his head frantically. Jungkook tossed him to the side, the man stumbling a bit as he scrambled away. “Good. Fuck off.”

Jimin just gaped at the boy in front of him, eyes darting down to the clenched fist at his side, then back up to his face, still turned in the direction of the guy he sent running away. “Jungkook? What the hell was that?” His brows furrowed and his mouth pressed into a pout, crossing his arms.

Jungkook turned to face him fully, an unreadable look on his face. “You’re drunk, and some asshole just tried to take advantage of you, that’s what happened.”

Something about the way he spoke made Jimin feel brave, made him feel reckless. He took a step towards him, chin tilted up to maintain eye contact. He slipped his hands around Jungkook’s waist and linked them behind the small of his back, head cocking to the side. He moved his gaze to the lip piercing on Jungkook’s face and wondered what the cool metal would feel like against his tongue. “What if I told you I liked it? That I wanted him to kiss me?”

Jungkook’s nostrils flared slightly as he tongued the inside of his cheek. He tangled a hand in Jimin’s hair and tugged, a gasp leaving Jimin’s lips as his head fell backwards, forcing him to look at Jungkook through fluttering eyelashes. “Then I’d call you a liar.”

Jimin leaned in first, eyes fluttering closed as Jungkook pressed into him, their lips slotting together perfectly. Jimin's mouth fell open as he gasped, barely having time to breathe before Jungkook was on him again, devouring him and swallowing his moans. Jimin broke away to mouth down the sharp line of Jungkook’s jaw, licking and sucking, nipping at the part right under his ear. Jungkook bit down on Jimin’s shoulder with a gruff moan, rolling his hips forward, his hard cock rubbing against Jimin’s through their pants. It wasn’t enough.

“ More ,” Jimin whined against his mouth, “want you to fuck me, need to feel you inside of me, please, Jungkook, ple-”

“Get a fucking room!” Someone shouted from down the hall, and the two of them pulled away from each other, starting at each other with wide eyes before bursting into laughter. Jimin thought Jungkook looked prettiest like that, his eyes sparkling, a light pink dusting his cheeks. But right now all he wanted was to hear more of his rough groans, and feel him stretch him until he felt like he was ripping into two.

~*~

Jungkook had barely stepped foot into his dorm before he was pinning Jimin against the door, one arm snaking around his waist to grip his ass, the other roughly pulling at his hair. Jimin melted into his touch, slipping his hands under Jungkook’s shirt to run his hands up his chiseled torso, feeling his muscles tensing under his smooth skin. Jungkook hissed at the cold touch and Jimin just smiled into their kiss, their teeth clashing and tongues twirling, bodies grinding desperately.

“Jimin,” Jungkook gasped, his head lolling back against the door with a soft thud . Jimin chased his mouth with his, getting onto his toes, but still not quite able to reach the right angle. Jungkook’s big hands on his ass were suddenly hoisting him up, Jimin’s legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. Jimin moaned loudly, feeling pleased with himself as a smirk spread on Jungkook’s lips, his kisses turning a little more bruising, a little more desperate.

Jungkook walked them over to his bed, Jimin falling onto his back with a giggle. With Jimin’s legs still around his waist, Jungkook leaned forward, pressing his palms into the mattress on both sides of Jimin’s face. Jimin looked up at him from this position, his chest rising and falling as he admired the fucked-out expression on Jungkook’s face, his hair ruffled from where his hands had tugged it in all directions.

Jimin wet his lips. “Are you gonna just stand there, or are you gonna fuck me?”

Jungkook laughed, dipping his face down so their noses were touching. “You want my dick that bad, baby?”

Jimin groaned, his head pressing back into the bed, “C’mon, you know I do,” he whined. Jungkook started kissing down the side of his neck, “Wanted you as soon as I saw you. Wanted to sit in your lap, feel your hard cock rubbing against me– ah!”

Jungkook’s tongue darted out to lick over the blooming hickey he just planted at the junction of Jimin’s shoulder and neck. Jimin whacked his chest weakly, frowning. “What the fuck, that’s super visible!”

“That’s the point,” Jungkook said simply, a coy smile on his lips.

Jimin’s had plenty of hookups, been in this position too many times to count. But there was something about the way Jungkook touched him, took his time with his movements, let his touch linger just a hair longer than he’d expected. It was new and thrilling, made every hair on his body stand up as he anticipated how he’d touch him next.

By the time Jungkook reached over to his desk to grab lube from the drawer, Jimin was squirming and grasping at anything he could reach, eager for Jungkook’s touch, yearning for it. He spat into his palm before wrapping it around the head of Jungkook’s hard dick in front of his face. Jungkook hissed at the wet sensation, hand gripping the wood table to steady himself as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Put it in your mouth,” he breathed after a few moments, swatting Jimin’s hand away and scooting his hips forward. Jimin’s jaw dropped immediately, licking a stripe from the base to the tip, swirling around the head before sinking his mouth down on the length, whimpering when it hit the back of his throat. “Fuck, just like that baby. You take dick so well, don’t you?”

“Mm,” Jimin whined, coming up for air before mouthing at it again, taking it even deeper this time. The sound of Jungkook’s broken groans and panting from above him set his insides aflame, pre-cum leaking out of his dick. His hips bucked up, dick bouncing against his lower abs and meeting nothing but air, tears of frustration pooling in the corners of his eyes.

Jungkook seemed to understand, bringing one hand down to wrap it around his leaking cock, making Jimin’s eyes roll back in pleasure. He panted around Jungkook’s length, spit dribbling down his chin, grateful moans echoing from his swollen lips.

“Can I fuck your mouth?” Jungkook asked, his hand gripping the back of Jimin’s head as he nodded. “Fuck, okay, thank you baby. I’m so close already.”

Jimin held eye contact with him as he brought himself to orgasm, his hands squeezing his muscled thighs on the sides of his face. “ Fuck ,” Jungkook panted, “gonna come, shit, Jimin–!” He tried to pull out but Jimin held him in place, swallowing around him, burying his nose in his groin as his load shot down his throat. Jungkook groaned through his high, hips stuttering, Jimin’s name a mantra on his lips.

Jungkook recovered quickly and returned the favor, and Jimin came faster than he expected, the alcohol making him more sensitive. He would’ve liked Jungkook to fuck him open, make him grip his sheets as he pounded into him, but he was too impatient. He panted as he lay on the bed, the sheets sticky with his sweat, ribbons of cum painted on his belly.

“So pretty,” Jungkook said, pressing a kiss to his lips. Jimin closed his eyes as he smiled, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through his veins.

~*~

“What’s it like?” Jimin asked, eyeing the pipe in Jungkook’s hand. “Smoking. Being high.”

Jungkook contemplated it for a moment, softly exhaling smoke into the air. “It’s different for everyone. For me, I guess it’s pretty relaxing, just… nice. I don’t know. I don’t really think about it anymore.”

“I want to try it.”

Jungkook’s brows knit together as he looked over at him, his lips pursed into a thin line. “You sure? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Jimin shrugged. “I just want to try, one puff shouldn’t hurt, right?”

Jungkook’s eyes searched his face for any hesitancy, and Jimin hoped he looked as confident as he felt. Because he did, really. He sobered up a while ago, his head and vision clear. It wasn’t the first time he thought of trying it, but when he had asked Taehyung, he just laughed at him, saying something along the lines of, ‘Damn, this weed is strong.’

“I just don’t wanna like, be responsible for corrupting you, or anything,” Jungkook chuckled, setting the pipe down on his desk and playing with the lighter.

“You just came in my mouth, right here on this bed, like 10 minutes ago,” Jimin deadpanned, rolling his eyes and reaching for the pipe himself. Jungkook threw his head back with laughter, his eyes falling to Jimin’s puffy, pink lips when he looked at him again. His breath stuttered as he bit his lip, and Jimin knew that in that moment, he won. “Light it for me, baby?”

Jungkook inhaled sharply through his nose as Jimin scooted closer to him on the bed, resting his bent right leg on Jungkook’s left thigh. Jimin held the pipe to his lips and looked up at Jungkook through his eyelashes, satisfaction blooming in his chest at the look on his face: like Jungkook was a predator, and Jimin was his prey.

“Only take as much as you think you can handle,” Jungkook warned, and Jimin nodded. He had never actually done it himself, but he had watched his friends do it countless times before, so he wasn’t entirely clueless. Jimin exhaled steadily as Jungkook flicked the lighter, his eyes parting from his face to glance down as he brought the small flame to meet the buds in the bowl. The soft crackle of the burning embers as Jimin inhaled echoed quietly in the otherwise silent room, and Jimin closed his eyes as he fought the urge to cough.

He inhaled sharply, drawing the smoke from his mouth into his lungs. He felt it prick at his insides for a second then let it all out, expecting to feel the warm mist floating out of his lips. His eyes fluttered open when he realized Jungkook was on him, drawing the smoke into his own mouth. Jimin gaped slightly as a white trail drifted up out of the corner of his lips, framing his perfect face.

Jungkook looked at him like he could ruin his life, and Jimin didn't mind.

#thebtswritersclub #jikook #bts fanfic #bts smut #jeon jungkook x park jimin #jikook fic #jikook college au #jikook smut #bts #smut #bts mxm #kokawrites #blue dream

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itslieutenanthawkeye · 3 years ago

Text

Lucky Guy

Day 7 of Jeankasa Week: College AU

AO3

Sasha and Connie dragged him forward; they’d loaded him up on caffeine that very afternoon, picked up a set of clothes for him and tried to shave his stubble. Jean hadn’t allowed them to do the latter. The night was starting, and he already felt tired.

Final exams had worn him out, consumed all his energy for the sake of a pass, for the sake of a chance of a good job in the future, a nice home for his family. Not that he had any prospects at the moment, mind you. All he seemed to have was stress, and exhaustion nowadays.

He understood that the two dragging him to the party wanted to help him wind down, but Connie had already started taking over for his family business and Sasha had graduated culinary school a year ago. They were living the adult, independent life already.

Meanwhile Jean was stuck with physics and mathematics. At least the artistic portion part of his classes was fulfilling.

“So, where’s Niccolo?” Connie asked as they got on the tramway.

“He had to close up, but he’ll meet us at the party later.” Sasha said, taking them to the long seat at the back of the tramway. Jean sat in between the two, listening to their chatter in silence. “Aren’t you going to lighten up, Jean? You look like someone just died.”

Jean lowered his head, the repetitive rattling of the cart almost lulling him to sleep. “My will to live has died.”

“Come on, man, is it that bad since Marco left?”

“That traitor.” Jean said, with a tone of voice that spoke longing instead of anger.

Marco and he had decided to study architecture together; Jean driven by his knack for drawing, Marco driven by his desire to be by his side. A year into their university course, however, he’d gotten that scholarship to study photography in Hizuru. A great, one-in-a-lifetime opportunity that didn’t come around twice.

An opportunity that would force them to stay apart for four full years. Since neither had enough money to fly back and forth and Jean had not wanted to give up his studies in Paradis, they’d decided to remain friends. They’d been friends since the beginning, after all.

After the first months of heartbreak, Jean had realized that Marco had left him with just about enough money to pay for three months of rent. Although he couldn’t blame him, Jean had gotten the habit of cursing him lowly for the past year, whenever he was forced to balance his part time job and his ridiculous physics lessons.

“I still don’t understand why you don’t get another roommate.” Connie said, scratching the back of his ear. “Are you just holding out until a cute guy shows up at your door?”

“Or girl.” Sasha added, opening a bag of potato chips sneakily.

“Oi, Sasha,” Jean said, frowning. “We’re gonna get a fine because of you.”

“I’ll pay for it,” Sasha said, waving her hand to undermine the matter. “You guys want some? They’re new spicy ones.”

Jean reached out under her jacket and took a few chips into his mouth. “I take it the restaurant is doing well? With you being okay for paying fines, I mean.”

“Niccolo said that breakfast menu I came out with put us on top. If we keep it up, in about two years we’ll be able to set our next location,” she said proudly, her mouth also half full of chips. She gave Jean a significant look. “We’ll need an architect for the place. And someone here will be almost finished with uni.”

He smiled. “Thanks. I’ll make sure to remind you.”

“You know you can ask for money, right, Jean?” Connie said, resting his back against the seat. “You don’t need to work yourself to death when you’ve got us.”

Another lazy smile came to his face. “I don’t want to be a burden to you guys.”

“You’re more of a burden when you don’t come with us to these things,” Connie said. “First, you missed all barbecue nights at Niccolo and Sasha’s. And now you didn’t want to come, and you know Reiner throws the best parties. His little cousin took down that Galliard guy the last time.”

“Isn’t she a kid?” Jean blurted out.

“She likes to sneak in to get in fights with the college kids.” Connie explained, laughing. “I think she’s been in martial arts since five or something.”

“Now that’s a surprise,” Sasha said, elbowing Connie as the tramway arrived at its next station. Jean looked at the person getting on and his breath caught. Wearing a corseted black dress, her hair up in a high ponytail and wearing a choker around her elegant neck, Mikasa Ackerman stood out as a comet across a blue sky.

“I didn’t think she’d come tonight,” Connie said. “You know, considering Eren.”

“What happened with Eren?” Jean asked.

“Don’t you check her feed?” Connie asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “You know, since you had that huge crush on her in high school and whatnot.”

“I’ve been busy.” Jean said, too tired to try and deny that crush he’d had on her in their school days, the crush that had always irked Marco somehow. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m too busy to be concerned about other people’s drama.”

“They broke up,” Connie said in a gossipy tone, as if Jean hadn’t just snapped at him. “Around six months ago. He skipped town. Didn’t want to be tied down or something, wanted to be free as birds or whatever. He’s backpacking in the continent, I think.”

Jean sat straighter on his seat. That dick. That stupid, nihilistic piece of shit. “Why didn’t you guys tell me? Isn’t Sasha her best friend?”

“Because you disappeared the whole semester, man. That’s why I told you to ask for money instead of working yourself to death,” Connie said, shaking him by the shoulder. “You miss out on parties and gossip.”

“Stop it. She’ll hear you,” Sasha said, lifting her arm to wave at Mikasa. “Hey! Mikasa, over here! Come sit with us!”

Jean felt heat in his cheeks. “Sasha, don’t. She’ll come.”

“That’s what I want.”

“I can’t talk when she looks this pretty.”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Stop being an idiot, Jean.”

Mikasa’s eyes caught sight of them and she made her way to their seat, not bothering to hold onto anything to keep her balance as the tramway moved forward. They had known each other from high school and little things had changed about the way she moved; she carried herself with the elegance of a swan, and the strength of a mountain. He remembered teasing Eren about her being the boss in their relationship during their very last year of school, when the embers of jealousy had begun to die for Jean, and chuckled lowly at the memory of the enraged response he always received.

“Hi, everyone,” she greeted them. Sasha scooted to the side, and Mikasa sat between her and Jean, close enough for him to smell her perfume. “Are you guys going to Reiner’s?”

“Best parties in Trost.” Sasha said, offering her the bag of potato chips. “Want some?”

Mikasa dipped her hand in the bag. “Aren’t you scared you’ll get a fine?”

“She says she’ll pay it,” Connie explained, reaching over Jean and Mikasa to grab more.

“Sasha,” Mikasa said sternly. “How many more fines are you going to pay?”

“She’s paid more this month?!” Jean said.

“She has. It’s getting ridiculous, she can’t go on a tramway without getting hungry…” Mikasa stopped herself from talking and settled her eyes on him, with a vague surprised expression on her lovely pale face. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been busy with work.” Jean said, shrugging, hoping that she wouldn’t see the blush in his cheeks that look of her had caused. He waited a second, wondering if he should bring up that he had, in fact, seen her. “I saw you, though. Drawing, in the Maria building.”

Understanding washed over her face, and her mouth fell open. “You should’ve said hi, Jean.” She said. “It’s a huge classroom, there’s no way I could’ve seen you.”

“I’m sorry.” Jean muttered. Truth was, he hadn’t wanted her to see him in the state he’d been in two weeks ago. With his double shifts at work and his assignments for the end of the semester, Jean had resembled a walking corpse more than a human.

Mikasa was an anthropology and history major and, much like Jean himself, worked part time jobs. However, with her looks, most of her part time jobs were related to modeling. That morning at creative drawing, she’d been hired to pose for the class covered only by a thin sheet. And despite being a class full of professionals, Jean had still not wanted the girl who resembled a goddess to see him bordering a mental breakdown.

“Have you been getting enough sleep?” She asked him.

“Does it show that bad?”

Mikasa’s mouth made a perfect O in terror. “I didn’t mean to sound like that.”

Jean chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. It shows. If uni wasn’t free, I would’ve gone broke already.”

“You need to look after your health more, Jean. Have you even been eating well? If you don’t sleep and don’t eat well, you’re just going to burn out,” Mikasa said, then froze, grabbing the hand that was going to reach out to him. “I’m sorry. I just sounded like a mother there.”

“You’re right, though.” Jean replied, smiling at her. “I haven’t been eating well. With work—”

“Is that why you haven’t been to any of the barbecues?”

“You went?”

Mikasa nodded. “We missed you.”

Jean’s head came up with a thousand names to call himself in that moment. He missed his friends enough during the semesters without the knowledge that she’d been hanging out with them at barbecue night. “I’ll make it next time.” He managed to say. “Did Armin go?”

“He’s been busy with moving in with Annie.” Mikasa said, sighing. “I don’t think I’d talk to anyone outside work if it wasn’t for Sasha and Mina.”

“Wait, Armin moved out too?” Jean asked, growing concerned. “Did those two just up and left you alone in that huge apartment?”

“Armin left me some money to pay a couple more months’ worth of rent.” Mikasa said, almost apologizing in Armin’s behalf. Jean’s fists clenched automatically; he’d seen how smitten he was with that marleyan girl, but leaving Mikasa alone to pay for that huge apartment by herself…

“Besides, I insisted,” Mikasa added with a low voice. “I didn’t want him to wallow in self pity with me when he has a perfectly lovely girlfriend.”

Jean sighed tiredly. He should’ve known. Even heart broken, Mikasa cared more about her friend’s happiness than her own economic safety. In a way, it was something that made her all the more charming in his eyes.

“Hey, are you two going to ignore us all the way there?” Connie asked, slapping the back of Jean’s head. “Why did you have to sit in between us if you’re just gonna talk to each other?”

“He’s right,” Sasha said, shaking Mikasa by the shoulder. “Mikasa, pay attention to your best friend now! She brought chips for you!”

Mikasa narrowed her eyes in Sasha’s direction. “Since when do you carry food for anyone but yourself, Braus?”

Sasha’s face contracted into a miserable expression, and she threw herself over Mikasa, hugging her while kissing her head. “Not the last name treatment, Mikasa!”

Maybe a few years ago, Mikasa would’ve thrown Sasha back onto her seat. This time, however, she limited herself to exchange an amused look with him and Connie, patting Sasha’s head in a conciliatory manner. “Alright, alright. Control yourself,” she told Sasha. “Don’t you have a boyfriend? What will Niccolo say if he sees you hugging a woman like this?”

“He’ll probably think we look hot.” Sasha replied innocently.

“What a perv.”

“Mikasa!”

_________________

The tramway took them to the west end of Trost, where high skyscrapers and fancy apartment buildings rose into the sky. The elevator took them a whole thirty floors up to Reine’rs apartment. As soon as they walked in, Jean stared at the ceramic floors, the balcony with its hot tub and view of the distant mountains in the island. When Reiner came to greet them with a hug for each, Jean held him by the shoulders.

“When did you get this rich?” He asked, baffled. How had everyone gotten rich so quick before him?

“My mother and I won the alimony trial last month,” Reiner laughed, hugging him again to then make a wide gesture with his arms at the people in the room. From the way he moved, Jean guessed he was already drunk. “Nineteen years’ worth of unpaid alimony, all paid in full!”

The crowd cheered, raising their beer bottles in the air to celebrate his makeshift toast. “Galliard, Pieck!” Reiner said, stumbling back into the crowd, being caught by the two exchange Marleyan students. “Get the karaoke machine going!”

Sasha and Connie dived into the party in full, going over to Mina, who had her hands full while pouring two bottles of vodka into a large crystal bowl filled with fruits and juice. Jean rubbed his temple; getting drunk wasn’t on his list of priorities, not with so little sleep in his system.

He turned to look at his right, realizing Mikasa stood by the door, watching the crowd move around Reiner’s apartment with apprehension. He took a couple of steps in her direction, leaning against the wall with his hands crossed over his chest, perhaps in a subconscious attempt to appear nonchalant. “See anyone you know?” He asked.

“Too many people.” She muttered in response, rubbing her arms. “Sasha said this was going to be like the barbecue.”

One would think that with her looks and strength, Mikasa would be a little more popular. She’d been an introvert since secondary school, shielded behind the personalities of her two childhood friends. And despite that a few people had managed to break through the cold outer layer of her personality (like Sasha, who’s might as well have gone through it with a war hammer) it always seemed to Jean that there as hidden sadness behind her eyes, a brake of sorts that didn’t allow her to express herself to the fullest.

“Let’s go to the balcony,” she said, pulling his sleeve. “Bring beers.”

Jean almost -almost- felt bad for Reiner’s father as they walked along the balcony. Trost had skyscrapers aplenty, but very few had a perfect look of the suburbs and mountains, and very few had an infinity pool with a hot tub included. The place must’ve costed a fortune. He could almost see his own neighborhood from this height.

They found a set of unoccupied pillowed seats at the corner, far from Reiner’s infinity pool, and sat there to watch the city in silence.

“I live there,” Mikasa said after a while, pointing south to a cluster of colorful buildings. “It’s the big tall one, with the red lights.”

“Ah, party town,” Jean said. He and Marco had tried to find a place there, but the rent had been astronomical, given its strategic location near the universities and clubs. “Was it a big change from the suburbs? That’s where you grew up in, right?”

“It was a huge change from my uncle’s house,” she said, her eyes set on the red building, amused at some memory Jean wasn’t aware of. “He was grossed out when he visited last year.”

“College neighborhood isn’t for him?”

“He said it was too dirty,” Mikasa said, sighing. “Although I’m sure he was terrified at the number of teenagers that threw themselves at him. He said I was to visit him from now on.”

Jean giggled at that. “Girls threw themselves at Levi?”

“Apparently he’s got something that makes university students go crazy.” Mikasa said, making a disgusted noise. Jean laughed again; Levi had been their teacher in middle school. How any college girl found him so appealing, he didn’t understand.

“Well, at least you can have fun in that neighborhood.” Jean said.

Mikasa made another disgusted noise. “I was only there because Eren suggested it. It was too loud for my liking. Too many creeps on the streets. And the rent is too high.”

“How did you guys manage to afford that? I mean, Eren and Armin aren’t precisely rich,” Jean said, covering his mouth as soon as he realized what he’d blurted out. “I’m sorry, Mikasa! I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Mikasa said, shaking her head in amusement. “Eren’s brother paid for most of the rent. He works in Marley and sent him money.”

She finished with a sigh, setting her eyes on the floor for a second before taking a sip of her beer. When she turned to look at him, Jean recognized annoyance in her eyes. “Now that he’s gone, Zeke stopped paying for that big chunk of the rent.”

“And Armin moved in with Annie,” Jean finished saying.

“And I’m in that huge place all by myself,” Mikasa said, taking another sip from her bottle. “Scraping my bank account to pay utilities, taking any modeling job that comes up besides working at Sasha’s restaurant, two months behind on rent.”

“Did Sasha offer you money yet?” Jean asked, recalling all the times their friend had tried to hand him checks for his rent.

Mikasa smiled. “A couple of times. But I don’t want to be a burden to her. As good as the restaurant is doing, having her own business can be tricky. One bad luck streak and she’ll be needing that money she offers me.”

“What about a roommate?”

“Nobody I know can afford rent there. I don’t want to disturb Niccolo and Sasha, and Levi has plenty on his plate. And it’s impossible to find a place this late in the year,” Mikasa said, sighing tiredly again. “Do you know how close I am to modeling underwear? A man in this shady company offered me so much money for nudes the other day—”

“Move in with me.” Jean blurted out, and his words were followed by excruciatingly long minutes. Mikasa rested her back against the seat, scrutinizing him with those perfect, serious eyes. “I don’t mean in a weird way. I mean, my rent is much less than yours must be. But ever since Marco left, it’s been harder to afford it on my own. I could use a roommate, and all the people I’ve interviewed were weirdos.”

“Won’t Marco be angry?” Mikasa asked politely. “Won’t he be upset that a girl is living with you?”

Jean smiled. “We’re not together anymore.”

“No?” She said, looking genuinely surprised. “Why? What happened? I thought—”

“Neither wanted a long-distance relationship, or had the money to afford one,” Jean explained, surprised at the lack of pain in his words when he spoke of what had happened. Perhaps, the exhaustion throughout the year had forced his heart to get over a heartbreak quickly.

“Besides,” Jan added, arching his eyebrow in her direction. “I know for a fact that hizuran people are beautiful. I couldn’t deny him having fun over there. So, we decided to stay as friends.”

Mikasa smiled, and Jean blushed. “You’re a good friend.”

“I’m not,” Jean replied, leaning back against his seat as well. “I had no idea about you and Eren. You’re our friend since high school, and I had no idea you’d gotten your heart broken too this year. So, I’m not that good of a friend.”

Mikasa rested her hand at her sides, her pinky almost touching his, leaning back to catch sight of the night sky. “You’re in no obligation to carry anyone’s pain, Jean, let alone mine.”

“What do you mean? You’re my friend.”

“I know. We are friends,” Mikasa said quickly, as if noticing the hint of pain her previous words had caused in him. “What I mean is…I knew it was going to happen. I saw the change in Eren. I knew he wouldn’t want to stay put. He was more in love with the idea of freedom than with me. I should’ve ended it a long while ago. So, no need to carry pain that was dragged on for no purpose.”

“And you didn’t want to go with him?”

Mikasa thought about it for a moment. He could hear Reiner and that Pieck girl singing at the top of their lungs inside, as well as Connie’s laughter. And yet, all his mind was set on was her, how her eyes focused on his as she spoke every word, how a bit of lipstick had smudged on the edges of her mouth due to their drinking. Jean had always been aware of Mikasa’s beauty, but he hadn’t been truly enthralled by it in a very long time.

“I don’t think I would’ve gone,” she said at last. “I love the island. I love my home. I want to have a peaceful life here, grow old here. I like seeing new places, but I don’t want to spend my life wandering. He did.”

Jean nodded, understanding her fully. All he’d ever dreamed of was a nice house in the inner districts, alongside the wife -or husband- of his choosing.

“Besides,” Mikasa said with a quiet laugh. “He never asked me to come.”

“What a fucking idiot.”

Mikasa blinked in surprise. “I’m not mad at him, Jean. You don’t need to be in my behalf.”

“I’m not mad on your behalf,” Jean said, shaking his head, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows, feeling all of that frustration he’d had towards Eren in high school come back in full. “What kind of idiot do you have to be to break the heart of someone like you?”

“Someone like me?”

“You’re fucking amazing!” Jean said, shocked by the confusion in her face. “Mikasa, you’re gorgeous, smart, strong. You can lift a whole hundred pounds without breaking a sweat…who would want to break your heart?”

Another chuckle escaped her throat, and she gave him a look that he could only describe a sweet. “Thank you,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “My heart was breaking the whole last year we were together, though. I guess in a way, him leaving helped me heal.”

“I hope he falls into a pit.” Jean muttered, then shook his head. “No, I hope I fall into a pit, for not noticing you were hurting before.”

“You had your thing with Marco moving away,” Mikasa replied. “If anything, I was the jerk for not helping you like Connie and Sasha did. I was too focused on trying to force Eren to be happy with me.”

“Still, I should’ve helped.”

“You’re helping now,” Mikasa replied, lifting her pierced eyebrow. “You’re letting me be your roommate, aren’t you?”

Jean took a deep gulp of his beer before speaking. “So, you are taking up on my offer?”

“Yes,” Mikasa said, setting her eyes on the section of town in which he lived in. “If you take up on my offer.”

“Which is?”

“The agency wants a couple male models,” she said, elbowing him playfully. “I heard from Sasha how you’re killing yourself at that part time. This money won’t be great, I do warn you, but it will be better, and you’ll have more time to study.”

The color traveled to his cheeks yet again. “I-I’m not a model, Mikasa.”

“No need to be modest, Kirstein,” she said, scrutinizing him again, her gaze sensing a shock of electricity across him. “I saw you on that beach trip we did. You’ve got nothing to envy from the models.”

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, and Jean’s mind became a storm. Had she just told him she found him attractive? No, it couldn’t be. She’d just said he had nothing to envy from male models. But that was just a creative way to call someone hot, wasn’t it? She had no reasons to call him hot, however.

“Jean, I think—”

“Niccolo!” Sasha’s shouted drunkenly, startling the two in their seats. It wasn’t until they turned in her direction that Jean realized how close their faces had been to each other.

“Alright, alright. Do it again.” Niccolo laughed, sounding quite drunk himself. Sasha grabbed her shirt and tightened it around her waist, showing him her bloated stomach.

Niccolo giggled. “It’s adorable! It does look like you’re pregnant,” he said between snorts. “How many garlic buns did you eat back there?”

“Why are you calling your baby a garlic knot, Niccolo?!” Sasha half-laughed, half cried, only causing Niccolo to laugh harder. They were soon on the floor, struggling to catch their breath because of their laughter, and Jean was grateful for the protective mesh at the edge of the balcony.

“They’re drunk.”

“They’re high.” Mikasa said, casting a glance inside. “Ymir and Historia are here.”

“No wonder they’re high.” Jean chuckled. Historia wore a beautiful pink dress, looking as happy as ever with Ymir’s hands around her waist. Ymir, as always, wore a dark suit. As always, she was more focused on kissing Historia’s neck than the conversation around her. They’d been inseparable since their wedding, and from the sparkling necklace around Historia’s neck, Jean supposed their business was growing well.

Mikasa grabbed his sleeve. “Do you want to go get some?”

“You smoke that stuff?” Jean asked, wondering when he’d smoked anything last.

“Not really.” Mikasa admitted, looking at Sasha laughing on the floor while placing a thousand drunken kisses on Niccolo’s forehead. “It looks like they’re having fun, though.”

“We could do it to celebrate,” Jean said, shrugging. “You know, each of just found a good roommate and we might not be as broke from now on.”

“You are sure about the roommate matter?” Mikasa asked, frowning. “You’ll have to take a few visits from my uncle.”

“I’ll cope.” Jean said, looking at Niccolo and Sasha. “Are you sure? What if Eren returns and gets mad?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes. “He can get as mad as he wants. I won’t care.” She said, and from her tone of voice , Jean knew she was done talking about Eren for the time being. She looked more annoyed at the inconveniences that Eren had caused her than heart broken. Perhaps, the exhaustion had forced her to get over a heartbreak quick, as well.

Jean offered her his hand. “Shall we, my lady?”

“You’re still an idiot,” Mikasa said, intertwining her arm with his. “Thank you, by the way.”

“No, thank you,” he said, using his other hand to take their bottles. He offered one to her and lifted his own. “Toast? For roommates?”

“For roommates.” Mikasa said. Their bottles clang together, their sound foretelling a change of wind for the two, perhaps.

______________________

Gabi walked along the bookstore holding onto Falco’s arm. She and her mother spent summers with her cousin Reiner in the island. And despite this being her fifth year visiting him and despite the luxuries of his apartment, she missed him terribly each time she left. So, she clung to him before and after her journeys, enjoying their time together as if it were a treasure.

“Want to get an ice cream afterwards?” He asked.

“The place by the zeppelin museum?” Falco nodded in response, and Gabi smiled widely. “Alright, then. But it’s my treat this time.”

“Let me buy the comic books this time, at least,” he said, pulling out a book with a few giants on the cover. “This looks good, doesn’t it?”

Gabi frowned at the sight of the naked giants. “I hate historical fiction.”

“It’s not like titans were real, Gabi,” Falco said, running through the pages. “This is mostly political-oriented. See? They even consulted a historian from Paradis to write it.”

“Hey, I know her!” Gabi said excitedly, looking at the picture of the main consultant from the work. “She’s the head of the anthropology museum at the island. She’s Reiner’s friend.”

“Is she?” Falco said, his eyes wide as he stared at the picture of Mikasa, who wore a fancy pantsuit and had her hair up in a ponytail. Unlike at the parties, her make up in this was formal, no bright pink lipstick, no dark eyeshadow. “She’s really pretty, isn’t she?”

“Falco!” Gabi said, then took a second look at the picture. “You’re right, she’s really pretty. Her husband is a lucky guy. He always says it himself.”

“Oh, she’s married?”

“Yeah, she married a friend of hers, I think. It was a late spring wedding, so I didn’t get to go. They’ve got a baby on the way and everything,” Gabi said, scrunching up her nose. “He’s friends with Reiner too, but I can’t recall the guy’s name.”

“Gabi, you see those people every summer,” Falco said, his kind face showing a slight hint of repeoach. “You should at least learn their names.”

“Reiner has way too many friends for me to remember,” Gabi replied, not wanting to admit that she did need to be a little more polite to them. “I do remember he had a bit of a horse face.”

“A horse face?” Falco said, horrified. “This woman here married a guy with a horse face?”

Gabi smiled amusedly. “She seemed quite smitten by him. Every time I go and they’re there, they’re always all lovey dovey. Kissing, hugging, they can’t keep their hands off each other,” she said, tilting her head to the side with a flirty smile. “Besides, it was just a nickname. The man is handsome, and taller than most guys, too.”

“Gabi, don’t talk so kindly about married men.” Falco said, closing the magazine with his cheeks flushed. Although his expression caused her own smile to grow wider.

“Are you jealous?” She teased, then placed a fleeting peck on his lips. “You’re way more handsome than horse face. And, you still have more years to grow. I’m sure that you’ll be taller than him by when we get married.”

“Gabi!” Falco said, flushing harder.

#Jeankasa #jeankasaweek2021 #JeanMika #jean kirschtien #Mikasa Ackerman #Jeankasa Week 2021 #fanfic #drug mention

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simp4reggie · 4 years ago

Note

Luke Patterson from Julie and the phantoms dating a 🥺 girl who is a cheerleader. Shocking the band when they meet her but end up loving her. Fluffy Luke

Cheerleader

Luke Patterson x Reader

Word Count: 1614 Words

A/N: I don’t know much about cheerleading but I hope you like it. It’s also 2 am and not proofread.

——————————————————————————

When you first met Luke, you were in school walking to class not paying attention and ended up bumping into him. You both ended up falling over causing both of your things to go everywhere. He was helping you with your stuff when he saw a small poster with a familiar logo in the corner of his eye.

“Sunset Curve?”, he says, picking it up. “You a fan?”

You looked up sheepishly and pushed a piece of hair behind your ear. “Uh yeah. I’ve been to a few shows. I’m (Y/N).” You stood up with him.

“Luke,” He points to himself. “Well, we have a show tonight if you would like to come. Maybe dinner after?”

“Wow. Someone’s confident,” you said laughing to yourself.

“Well, I have to be when I’m talking to someone as gorgeous as you,” he complimented you turning your cheeks red. “So what time am I picking you up?”

You tell him that you have cheerleading practice tonight so you’ll be done around 6. “Just tell me where and I’ll be there.”

A couple hours later, it was time for the concert. Luke was standing on stage looking in the audience for you, to become unsuccessful. He tried to hide his frown but Reggie noticed. He then nudged Bobby to look over. Bobby just looked back at him shrugging. After a couple songs, you still hadn’t turned up. By the end of the set, Luke was now angry. He went out on a limb and was completely humiliated.

When they went backstage, a waiter walked up to him and said he had a message from a girl named (Y/N).

“What did she say?”

“She said she’s sorry she couldn’t make it. Practice ran late but she’ll make it up to you.”

“Okay. Thank you so much.” He let out a great big sigh of relief.

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on?” Reggie asked, causing Luke to turn around.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, first off you looked bummed out the entire set and now some random girl left a message for you.” Bobby replies looking at the other two to see their reactions.

“It’s nothing.” Luke replies.

“Okay…” Alex says sarcastically.

“Really it is. We just met today.” Luke says quickly.

“I didn’t say anything.” Alex puts his hands up in defense.

The next morning, you looked for Luke in the halls. When you found out you ran up to him and started immensely apologizing. “Oh my gosh, Luke. I’m so sorry. By the time I got out of practice and I went home to get ready it was 7:00. And then I fell asleep. So as soon as I woke up I called the club. So if we could go out tonight or another night if it’s not good for you.”

“(Y/N) it’s okay. You left a message.” He says putting an arm around you. “And about tonight. Tonight is perfect.”

“Okay great. I have practice again tonight but maybe we can meet at 8?”

“I’ll pick you up instead.”

You give him your address and he shows up knocking on your door at exactly 8:00 on the dot. He ends up taking you to a movie and dinner. At the end of the night, you end up walking the strip.

“So, how’d I do?” Luke asks, holding your hand.

“Amazing. I haven’t been out in a while because of practice.” You reply.

“It really takes up your time, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m hoping to cheer in college so to get a scholarship I need to work really hard.”

“Well, it’s good that you know what you want to do with your life.”

“You do too. Your band is going to make it far.”

“I hope so. I can't think of anything else I’d rather do.”

When we get back to my house, we stand at the front door for a minute just looking at each other.

“So…”

Luke leans in to meet your lips. You kiss him back, sweetly. After a couple of minutes, you pull away.

“Well, thank you for tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow?” You say opening your door.

“Of course.” He gives you another kiss and leaves. You watch him walk away, smirking to yourself.

You go out again multiple times after that learning more and more about each other. Now it’s been three months and he still hasn’t told the boys. Until one day when Sunset Curve has another gig.

Everyday you have been hanging out and going on dates with Luke after cheer practice and band rehearsal. As soon as the guys were done rehearsing, Luke wasted no time running out of the studio. It took almost your entire relationship before the boys noticed something was up.

“There he goes again.” Alex says standing up from the drumset, “Where is he going?”

“I don’t know but he’s been on his phone more than usual and getting distracted easily. Maybe it’s a girl.” Reggie says.

“Let’s ask him at the show tonight.”

An hour later, Luke walks through the stage door, talking to you on the phone, “Am I seeing you tonight?”

“Of course. We got done early so I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay great. I just got here. We’re gonna have the sound check so I’ll see you after the set.”

“You’re gonna do great! See you soon.”

“Bye babe.” Luke hangs up the phone and looks up to see Alex and Reggie.

“Who was that Luke?”

“What do you mean? Nobody.”

“It didn’t sound like nobody...babe”

Luke realizes the mistake he made by saying it in front of his friends. He might as well tell them now before she shows up and it’s a whole mess.

“So I’ve been seeing someone. We met a few months ago.

“Is that where you’ve been going after rehearsal? You leave before we’re even done the last song.”

“Yeah. Sorry. It’s just she has practice after school and there’s like an hour or two that we can actually see each other. I know I should’ve told you when it started but it was nice just being me and her.”

“It’s fine dude. We would like to meet her at somepoint but it’s your relationship not ours.”

“Okay good she’s actually coming tonight.”

The boys had soundcheck and started performing not long after. You ended up coming in a couple songs in so you didn’t miss much. What the rest of the band doesn’t know is you’ve actually gone to every show you could since you and Luke started dating. Since you’ve seen them a number of times, you have a favorite and Luke knows exactly which one it is.

You hear the beginning chords of Now or Never and see Luke look around the crowd before making eye contact with you. He winks at you and you feel your heart beat faster. He radiates so much energy it’s hard to be upset watching him perform.

Practice ended up being more stressful than it needed to be. Some of the team didn’t show up so your routine had to be reblocked a bit. Now you were just drained and wanted nothing more than to lay in your bed. But you missed they’re last show and even though you know Luke is the most understanding person you still made a promise and you didn’t want to let him down.

After the set, you decide to surprise him backstage. But instead of seeing Luke right away you saw Reggie, Bobby, and Alex first.

“Umm hi. I’m (Y/N)...Luke’s girlfriend.”

“Hi! I’m Alex.”

“Reggie.”

“Bobby. ‘Sup.”

You shake their hands trying to be as polite as possible. You really want to impress his bandmates knowing that they’re his family. He told you about his problems at home and how the only people he sees on the regular are his friends.

“(Y/N)!!!!!” You turn around and see Luke covered in sweat running over to you with his arms open wide. You let him wrap his arms around you since you just need to be held by him at the moment. You give him a quick kiss before giving him an actual hug.

“How was practice?”

“Ugh let’s not talk about that now. I’m having a good time.” Luke leans back and gives you a sad look before pushing a piece of hair back behind your ear and kissing your forehead.

“So I see you’ve met the guys. Be nice to her please.”

“Wait….practice.” Bobby looks you up and down noticing you’re still in uniform. “Are you a cheerleader?”

The boys all look up at you not saying anything.

“Uh yeah” You say shyly, finding the carpet much more interesting. “I’m a flyer. It’s been a long day so I didn’t have time to change.”

“That’s so cool!” You hear Alex say. “My sister’s a cheerleader.”

“Oh really? What’s her name?” You say making conversation. You feel an arm around you. Luke was happy you were getting along with his friends. He knew you would be find but you once brought up how you get insecure about cheerleading. Movies don’t make the sport look as fun as it can be. Most cheerleaders are considered mean and catty. However you are from either of those things.

“Katie. She’s in college now but she loved cheering.”

After we talked a little bit more, the guys put their instruments away and they invited you to get food with them so Luke didn’t have to rush after the gig like he has been. You graciously accepted and couldn't wait to hear the stories about your boyfriend. You definitely gained three more friends tonight.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Major writers block should be over now so if you have any ideas please send them in. Right now I only write for JATP characters/cast.

- Maddie xx

#julie and the phantoms #charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #jatp luke x reader #luke patterson x reader

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satan-ruler-of-hells · 4 years ago

Text

The Only Exception

Am I capable of writing anything fluffy without angst? No I don’t believe I am. Anyway here’s some Ushijima love! A big thank you to Noodles and Pies whom without this story would never have left drafts. You guys have no idea how much I appreciate you.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, this isn’t exactly fluffy so prepare yourself and I hope you enjoy!

You'd sworn to yourself at an early age that you'd never fall in love. After watching your mother and father fight for years until the birth of your sister and your father having an affair every 2 years or so, you had decided it wasn't worth it. Then you’d met her and she made you think maybe love could be something more, something beautiful. But you were vividly reminded why you kept those walls up, why you guarded your heart so closely.

You were reminded again a few years later, after finding out that all those late nights that kept your father at “work” and all those odd jobs were actually another affair. It wasn’t the first time, not by a long shot but you were old enough now to realize not only what he had done to your mother but to you as well. While he was out “living his life” and “working late” you were left at home to raise your sister. A position you’d been forced to take that was met with resistance and hatred from the very one you’d done your best to take care of while still being a kid yourself.

Your mother, who had been working the graveyard shift, had done her best with what she had, but at her age pulling all nighters wasn't exactly an easy feat. You didn't blame her, you couldn’t. Not when you'd seen her and held her as she cried when she felt she had failed you as a parent and the guilt when she had to take a nap just so she could function. Your heart ached for her and raged at him. You’d seen what love could do to someone first hand and decided with renowned resolution that you wanted nothing to do with it.

That’s why starting at Shiratorizawa on a cheerleading scholarship, didn’t worry you. While your team would gush and rave about all the attractive men on the boys volleyball team you couldn't care less. Nice to look at, yet dangerous to touch, like a fire, give it the chance and it would burn you alive.

That didn't stop you from making friends though, you quickly found peace with Tendou Satori, the infamous “Guess-Monster” whose most monstrous trait in your opinion was that he loved too hard. Despite what meeting the red head led to, which at the start was the worst thing that could ever happen, you'd thank him for this one day. He introduced you to his best friend and dorm mate Ushijima Wakatoshi, who before getting close to Tendou was just another member of the volleyball team.

You enjoyed his company, where Tendou was as loud and bright as the sun, Ushijima was quiet and calm like the moon. A perfect balance of excitement and security, spontaneity and familiarity. You would grow just as close to Ushijima as you had Tendou, if not closer. Slowly you’d let them in, not fully, but not at arms length either, within the year, they became people you relied on, your chosen family. The next year only furthered those feelings, cementing them a place in your life for better or for worse.

One night as the three of you had a sleepover, which was pretty much a weekly occurrence since the middle of second year, you and Ushijima stayed up for hours. The usually quiet and stoic man opened up to you, telling you his story. How he watched his parents slowly fall out of love, the way that had altered his views on life at a young age, and how his mother had wanted to change his left handedness, but at his fathers insistence, ultimately relented and the story his father had told him that shaped him into the player, and man he was today.

In turn you told him everything you had kept to yourself for so long. From the way you'd grown up, to the grand reveal your father had given you, the truth on how everything had actually affected you. How you had become your family's backbone, that while your mother and sister broke down, you had held strong, giving them the time to grieve that you'd never had. Emptying your soul to him in a way you never thought yourself capable of, but you know what they say about conversations after midnight.

You two never brought up what you’d spoken of that night but something in your relationship had immeasurably shifted. You’d find yourself seeking his presence, even when you were surrounded by your friends and team. You, of course still spent most of your free time with Tendou, who’d become your brother in all ways but one, which usually meant Ushijima as well, but you found yourself having more alone time with him. Not that either of you minded, you typically used this time to finish your homework in peace ( you loved Tendou, truly, but he had nothing that even resembled an attention span for anything other than volleyball and the latest edition of Shonen Jump).

On the weekends you two would find yourselves just walking around the city, you talking about everything that had gone on in the past week and him listening intently chiming in at the appropriate intervals, occasionally providing advice or just a different perspective on any predicaments you may have ended up in. These sessions ended as they usually did, with a hug but you didn’t notice, not consciously anyway, that they would linger longer and longer as time went on, and that saying goodnight was harder. If you did, you would just brush the thought aside because of course it sucked that he had to go, he was one of your closest friends, it was only natural.

You probably could’ve lived in your little bubble of denial the rest of your life if not for Tendou who, bless his heart, was just trying to help.

“When were you going to tell me about you and Ushijima?” he’d asked one day out of the blue.

“What do you mean?” You looked over at him from your place on the floor, eyes borrowed in confusion.

“I mean like when were you going to tell me you liked him?”

You laughed, ignoring the way your chest tightened, “You’re seeing things Tendou, nothing is going on between me and Ushi. we’re friends just like you and me, like we've always been.” The red head looked at you for a moment, almost like he was contemplating something.

“Y/N, I love you darling, truly I do, but you are full of shit. Either tell him how you feel or let him go, you’re my friend but so is he. Neither of you deserve to have your heart broken.”

“You can’t break something that was never whole to begin with, besides, like I told you, there's nothing going on.” You changed the subject quickly after that trying to ignore the nagging voice in your head that agreed with Tendou. But the door had already been opened, and deep down, you knew he was right.

It was like a switch flipped in your mind, the late night calls and texts, the sleepless nights you spent helping him study and practicing with him. The way your heart would flutter when his hand would accidentally brush yours and the way you’d found yourself melting into his embrace when he would hug you. For a fleeting moment you were elated, but just as quickly it was replaced with dread, anxiety, and fear. You couldn’t- no you wouldn’t allow yourself to admit it.

You would like to convince yourself that you were not ignoring Ushijima, that you were just busy. Exams were coming up so you had to study, and if it just so happened that you remember this fact every time he entered the room well it was just a coincidence. You started avoiding Tendou as well, the look in his eyes, a feeling you couldn’t, and frankly didn't want to name made you feel worse and there was nothing he could say that would change your mind.

Everything was going perfectly according to plan, ignore Ushijima and Tendou until graduation and then you’d be off the college, Tendou to Paris and Ushijima would be a pro volleyball player like he had always wanted. The distance would hurt, but the alternative in your mind was much, much worse. At least for about a week, you should've known your luck wouldn't hold out as when you got back to your dorm, Ushijima was waiting for you.

And there you have it folks! And yes there will be a part 2 so please don’t come for me with pitchforks and torches.

Taglist: @pies-writes-and-more @thisnoodlewritesao3

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima x y/n #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you

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giftwrappingpaper · 4 years ago

Text

wangxian bakery au

prompt: "I'd love to enable a creator to write/draw that self-indulgent niche workplace AU they've always wanted to make."

Lan Zhan finds Wei Ying baking bread in the kitchen of a hole-in-the-wall bakery in Yiling.

-----

A low, all too familiar voice hesitantly calls his name. "Wei Ying?"

No fucking way. Wei Ying looks up, raised eyebrows wrinkling his flour-dusted forehead. Yep, that’s Lan Zhan alright; no matter how many years pass, Wei Ying could recognize that face anywhere. His sharp, meticulously perfect appearance makes him look like a high-fashion magazine model cutout slapped on a stock photo of yellowed plaster and secondhand baking equipment.

“No customers in the back,” Wei Ying advises before returning his attention to the dough in his hands. A picture of informality, with a small smirk playing on his lips — a half-hearted attempt to conceal the shock and surmounting panic bubbling in his gut.

How the hell did he find me? one side of his brain despairs, while the other side reassures that at least it isn’t Jiang Cheng.

Lan Zhan continues his stalwart breach of Burial Bakery’s kitchen. What a rebel. “Wei Ying,” he says again.

“That’s me.”

“You’re here.”

“Uh, yeah?”

“You’re in a...bakery. Baking.”

Wei Ying breathed in the calming smell of fresh sourdough and tangy levain. Thank the heavens he had been able to convince Wen Ning to take a lunch break, leaving Wei Ying to man the kitchen alone. This isn’t going to be pretty.

“That’s kinda what we do here, yeah,” he says, eyes trained on his workbench, crowded with floured bannetons and formless lumps of dough. “A helping hand would be nice. I’d appreciate that much more than the gawking.”

Lan Zhan blinks, jawing clenching and ears flushing. Wei Ying’s smirk lifts into something softer. Even after all this time, it’s still so easy to rile him up.

“How’d you even find me, anyway?” he wonders, stretching his dough flat against the workbench, stopping right when it’s about to rip. Gently, of course. Wouldn’t want to pop the gas built up after hours of proofing.

“The back door is open,” Lan Zhan answers faintly. His expression mirrors the face of a guy after finding a years-long missing sock long since chalked off as having been eaten by the dryer. “I saw you from the counter.”

A quick glance to the entrance confirms this. Wen Ning must’ve forgotten to close the door when he left. Damn, that’s no good. Can’t let the cold air flow in. Might mess with the dough proofing in the walk-in.

“Could you close that for me?” Wei Ying asks, briefly letting go of the dough to rub the back of his neck. When Lan Zhan continues to stand there, motionless like a beautiful, bewildered statue, Wei Ying tsks and says, “I’m not going anywhere, Lan Zhan. Gotta get yesterday's proofed loaves in the oven by the hour.”

Miraculously, Lan Zhan obeys. Wei Ying half expected him not to. He and Lan Zhan have never been the closest of friends; Wei Ying was an annoying student, and Lan Zhan has a zero tolerance for annoying classmates. But people can change, he supposes. It’s been over four years, and neither of them are the same people they were before Wei Ying packed up his things and gave up his cushioned life in the Jiang estate and his scholarship to one of the most prestigious universities in the country to start slumming it with the Wen siblings and A-Yuan in their closet of an apartment.

“Aw, thanks,” Wei Ying says when Lan Zhan returns. He belatedly realizes that he should’ve asked Lan Zhan to close the door behind him as he leaves the kitchen that he, as a non-employee, isn’t supposed to be in. Oh well; Wen Qing can chew him out for all the health codes he’s violating later. Isn’t she supposed to be manning the front? Lan Zhan must have snuck past her to get here, so she’s just as guilty.

“So you’ve been here the whole time?” Lan Zhan says, watching Wei Ying shape the dough. “Since you — left?”

“Basically.” Stitch the dough into itself. Then fold and tuck. Push the dough underneath itself with the palm of your hands to create surface tension, giving the newly formed loaf that tight, professional finish. Took Wei Ying ages to get the method down pat enough to be consistent. “Wanted to get out of the Jiangs’ hair, so I left soon after dropping out of uni.”

Dust the loaf with rice flour. Place it into a banneton, seam side up. Into the rack, then repeat. “A friend of mine had just inherited their family bakery. I volunteered to help out, and it eventually ended up becoming a full-time thing.”

Lan Zhan stands there without a word — not that Wei Ying minds. He hadn’t let himself dream they’d see each other again, hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up that he'd be lucky enough to see a familiar face again after all this time. Damn, he thinks, sneaking glance after glance between the loaves he’s shaping, he’s more handsome now than ever. Who knew the gorgeous teenager he’d harassed throughout two years of university would turn out to become a gorgeous adult who somehow stumbles into Wei Ying’s bakery? Even the unflattering cast of the yellow, flickering overhead light Wen Qing had been meaning to replace can’t wash out how black Lan Zhan’s hair is, how his skin is as smooth as a baby’s. How golden his eyes are, peering at Wei Ying as if he’s the sunrise after a long, cloudy night.

Bah. Where the hell did that come from? Maybe Wei Ying really is as self-centered as Aunt Yu claimed him to be.

“I wasn’t aware of your...baking aspirations,” Lan Zhan says, causing Wei Ying to choke out a laugh. He’d forgotten how funny Lan Zhan could be.

“Me neither,” Wei Ying admits. He sidesteps the kitchen mixer he’d spent the last year fixing up — he’d bought it in a sorry state, but Hobart engines are built to last a lifetime, and he couldn’t pass up the deal he paid for — to place another filled banneton into the rack. “But I’m not too mad at where I’ve ended up. Speaking of. How did you end up here?”

Lan Zhan's shoulders hunch suspiciously, and Wei Ying's eyebrows arch into fucking parabolas. “I wanted bread,” Lan Zhan replies defensively. “So I went to a bakery.”

Wei Ying scoffs, unimpressed. “A bakery all the way in Yiling?”

Lan Zhan glances away. “I travel a lot for work.”

Fine — he’ll let it go for now. “Well, as long as you don’t tell anyone back home about this, I guess it’s fine.” Wei Ying pauses. “You’re not gonna rat me out, are you?”

The thought should scare him, but a traitorously large part of him thrills at it instead. The Jiangs' are a key food supplier for the Lans' hotel chain, so Lan Zhan has to have some form of communication with them. Does Jiejie think about him from time to time? And Jiang Cheng...well. They’re still brothers, aren't they? Surely he must, at some small capacity, miss him.

But no brotherly love, whatever left there may be, could erase this: the cold silence that hung over the Jiang family table whenever Wei Ying would show up for dinner. Aunt Yu’s constant disapproval and Jiang Cheng’s wavering willingness to put up with it. The car ride. The screech of metal. The hospital said their Range Rover flipped four times. Wei Ying must have passed out after the first. But he was lucky: only a broken arm and whiplash. He had lied about being too hurt to attend the funeral.

It had been a good decision to leave. It had to be.

The back of his neck stings; a constant reminder. He hangs his head low as he stitches the dough.

“I’m not going to...rat you out,” Lan Zhan denies. He’s closer than he’d been since the last time Wei Ying looked up, his slack-clad hip brushing against the corner of Wei Ying’s workbench. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t. Thanks.” Another banneton in the rack. Slower output than usual. He’s going to have to speed up to reach today’s quota. He gestures to the door. “Now, if you’re not gonna help out…”

Lan Zhan doesn’t take the hint. “You left. Without saying goodbye.”

“Must’ve forgotten to leave a note,” Wei Ying says, nonplussed.

“No one knew where you had gone off to.”

“Kinda preferred it that way.”

“But I didn’t —” Lan Zhan stops. Takes a breath. This is the most emotional Wei Ying has ever seen him, if mildly discomfited could constitute as emotional.

When he meets Wei Ying’s eyes again, his face is in its usual state of aloofness. “I was worried about you,” he tells him. “I wish I had known that you were alright.”

A block of guilt presses on Wei Ying’s shoulders. “Oh,” he says. “Sorry.”

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “Don’t apologize.”

“It’s just — with all that happened with the, the accident, and the handling of the estate —”

“You don’t need to explain anything to me you’re not comfortable with.”

“And my relationship with Jiang Cheng was down the fucking gutter —”

“He misses you.”

“I just felt that it everything would’ve been better off if —”

“I understand.”

“— I just left, y’know?”

At this, Lan Zhan frowns. “I fail to see how your sudden disappearance made anything better,” he says.

“Well, you weren’t there.” Wei Ying sighs, and what little fight he had to defend himself from the past drops to the floor. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

Lan Zhan bristles. “I didn’t mean to — that’s not why I’m here.”

Then why are you here? But Wei Ying is done playing this game. “Look, it’s really nice to see you again. But I kind of have a lot on my plate right now, so if you don’t mind.” This time, his gesture to the door is clear. Leave.

Of course Lan Zhan doesn’t leave; he’s always been so damn stubborn. After a beat, he walks over to the empty sink — Wei Ying prefers to wash the dishes as he goes — and washes his hands. Dries them. Rolls up the sleeves of his button up, revealing forearms Wei Ying can’t help but swallow at. Makes his way to Wei Ying’s side, staring down at the lumps of dough like how a runner glares at the bottom of her shoe after stepping on a pile of dogshit.

“Alright,” he says, “how do I do this?”

Wei Ying blinks. “What?” he asks, like an idiot.

Lan Zhan experimentally cups the nearest dough mound with his palms. It sticks to his hands as he lifts them, streaks of the stuff already clinging to his slender fingers.

“Gross,” he says, monotone, pinching two ends to stretch it; an imitation, Wei Ying realizes, of his own technique.

Wei Ying stares. An incredulous smile spreads across his lips. “You’re —” He laughs. “You’re so weird, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan squints at him, confused, hands still making a mess out of the dough. “You asked for my help.”

Perhaps all those years away from home was enough penance for, at the very least, this. “Yeah," he says, soft. "I guess I did.” Wei Ying sways closer to Lan Zhan’s side. He discreetly sniffs the air in a selfish bid to find...ah, there it is, masked between notes of wheat flour and sourdough starter: sandalwood aftershave, brushing past Wei Ying's nose when Lan Zhan turns to him with an expectant glance.

Wei Ying laughs again. “No, not like that. Like this.”

He lays a floured hand over Lan Zhan’s and, together, they get to work.

-----

also posted on ao3

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#mdzs #wangxian #cql #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #mdzs fic #cql fic #mo dao zu shi #myfic

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4haechie · 4 years ago

Text

cliché

summary: he doesn’t care if it seems cliché, donghyuck really wants to run into your arms after winning the game.

pairing: soccer player!lee donghyuck x reader

genre: fluff, high school au

words: 1,882

warnings: swearing, that’s all

a/n: this is for the one (1) anon who requested for a part 2 to this drabble :D thank u sm i hope u like it! also, i should’ve thought this through bc i don’t know the first thing about soccer. enjoy!

“y/n, wait up!”

you’re making your way to the stands when mark calls out to you from behind. you turn on your heel and face him, annoyed, “what is it?” you don’t mean to sound rude, but you don’t want to miss a single second of the game.

“i have the perfect plan–”

“i don’t wanna hear it!” you know exactly what he was planning on telling you, but you don’t give him the chance. you quickly pass the food stalls on the ground floor, climb the steps of the stands, and take your seat. you plop your bag on the seat to your left to save one for mark–he’s annoying and a slowpoke, yeah, but he’s your best friend.

the announcer states the game will be starting soon; you don’t know why your heart is beating so fast, it’s not like you’re playing. you’re only watching the boy you like play. no big deal.

you hope his team wins. you also hope he’ll come up in the stands after winning to say hi and perhaps more. the rapid beating of your heart returns as the crowd goes wild when the announcer starts reading out the players’ names.

lee donghyuck is amazing at soccer. he’s been playing the sport since he was young. he’s good at it, the captain of the school’s team, and never fails to bring his team victory.

he’s played about a million and one games before. why is he so nervous about this one?

oh, yeah. it’s because he invited you to watch the game a few days ago. you, who’s been his crush for as long as he can remember. you, who has no clue he’s crushing on you.

“game starts in five.” the coach is pacing around, making everybody more nervous than they really are. “this is the first game of the semester. no big deal,” he lets out an airy laugh. “we’re going against our number one rival school. no pressure,” he lets out the same laugh.

donghyuck rolls his eyes. “coach, relax! we’ve gone against them before and won. this is gonna be a piece of cake, right guys?” he gazes around his teammates.

the coach does some warm-ups–he’s not even playing; donghyuck doesn’t get this guy–and walks over to the teacher’s bench to chat with his colleagues.

the field is open, of course, and the players’ waiting area is a huge tent just beside the stands. donghyuck scans the stands–he doesn’t know where you’re seated, so when he doesn’t find you, a small frown traces his lips. what if you didn’t show? you said you would...but he can’t see you anywhere. what if you changed your mind? his mind is racing with such thoughts when the announcer yells something through his megaphone.

“all players on the field!”

the coach tells the team to huddle for a second and gives his final piece of advice: “finish them! you hear me?” the teammates whoop and cheer loudly and the coach smiles at them fondly.

“our school needs one more goal to win.” mark says, munching on cheesy doritos. you grip the empty can of soda in your hand tightly in anticipation. they have to win. he has to win. “donghyuck has to make the winning goal. he’s so fucking good, y/n!” mark nudges you knowingly.

you need to focus on the game in front of you, but mark’s words make your mind wander. he really is good. mark’s never been to any of his games before, and you’ve been to the very first game he played after making the team.

you and donghyuck have been in the same class for as long as you can remember. you also live in the same neighbourhood. but you’re always too shy to approach him, and he’s always with his billion teammates or friends. you, on the other hand, are with mark, your oldest friend, most of the time.

just to show your support, your entire class in freshman year went to donghyuck’s first-ever soccer match. he was so thrilled to see everyone there, cheering for him and rooting for him. he lost that match, unfortunately, but learned from his mistakes and won every single match after that. soon, in junior year, he was made the captain.

this game is going to be one of his last games before he graduates. so he has to win, not only to bring another trophy to the table but also to impress you. as silly as it sounds, he prays you’re out there somewhere. he prays you’re watching, because he really wants to kiss you after winning the game–like every cliché high school movie to ever exist.

donghyuck feels beads of sweat lining his forehead, trailing down his neck. he takes a deep breath. he listens closely to the audience screaming his name. he grasps that, holds onto it, clings to that as if his life depends on it. he doesn’t have much time, he has to take his shot. he runs like the wind and he’s suddenly in front of the goalpost, staring at the face of the rival goalkeeper.

donghyuck dares glance around; his eyes catch the sight of the opposition advancing. he has to act fast. he gathers all the stamina that’s left, takes one look at the goal, does the necessary pre-goal-making calculations in his head, and kicks the ball. all of this happens in under a second–the goalkeeper doesn’t see it coming. donghyuck is known for his surprise attacks and goals. this really was a piece of cake, he thinks.

the ball soars and hits the back of the net. the crowd goes wild–literally. the chanting gets louder, and donghyuck smiles brightly. in an instant, as if this was rehearsed, his teammates surround him, lift him in the air, also chanting his name.

he gets handed the winning trophy, and everything becomes a blur. he and his teammates pose on the field to take pictures, his coach cries tears of joy, his parents come running to embrace him, hearts full of pride, his siblings look the happiest he’s ever seen them. everyone’s smiling and joyful, just the way he wants. he’s dreamed of this day before, just like he’s dreamed of all his matches. he dreams he makes the winning goal, the crowd screams his name, he spots you, walks towards you and pulls you in for a kiss in front of everyone.

he didn’t care in his vision, and he wouldn’t care in real life either.

after the game, the cheerleaders put on a final performance, commemorating your school’s win, marking the end of the event.

mark bumps you in the shoulder, “you have to tell him now. it’ll be the cherry on top to his day today. did you see how he smiled? it’s like he knew he was gonna win all along.”

you’re still seated in the stands with him, even though most of the audience has taken its leave. besides, mark also has friends on the team. he couldn’t leave without congratulating them in person. the team left to shower and change a while ago, so you’re sure your heart won’t settle till you’ve seen and talked to donghyuck in person.

“i have a feeling he did.”

mark chuckles, “he’s a great guy, y/n. and i think he likes you too. just tell him! what’s the harm?”

you press your lips together. “the fact that he might not like me back?”

mark rolls his eyes, “y/n, it’s not a fact if you’re not sure, and you won’t be sure till you tell him.”

he has a point, but doesn’t everyone get a little doubtful when it comes to someone liking a person back? your mind argues with itself, debating, and listing the pros and cons of telling him how you feel once and for all.

just then, a familiar voice interrupts your train of thoughts. “i didn’t think you guys would come.”

you whip your head to the side and see lee donghyuck standing there, having changed out of his soccer uniform to a pair of jeans and a plain tee hidden under his jersey, and his bag is slung over one shoulder.

jesus, fuck. this boy...

“y/n would’ve never missed it.” mark smiles up at donghyuck, who scratches his neck in embarrassment.

you shove mark to the side and get up to stand in front of donghyuck. donghyuck’s eyes widen a little when you extend out a hand, “congratulations on winning the game, donghyuck! that final goal was one for the history books.”

donghyuck giggles...giggles, before meeting your hand in a firm shake. “thanks, um, that means a lot.”

“what do you mean?” you pull away reluctantly, not wanting to let go, but not wanting to look clingy either.

he glances at mark warily but softens his gaze at you. mark sighs, “fine, i’ll leave. make it quick, you two! and no funny business–”

you practically push mark away and after ensuring he’s far, far, away from the stands, you gesture at donghyuck to continue.

“i mean...that i’m really glad you came. i’m also really glad you watched me win. a bunch of colleges sent representatives to watch the game, and a few of them even approached me. i might have a shot at getting a scholarship,” he chuckles shyly.

“donghyuck, that’s so awesome! oh my god...i’m so, so, happy for you!” you grin.

“thanks,” he looks down at the floor, a little flustered. “so, um, i wanted to ask you something. well, more like tell you something.”

you cock an eyebrow, puzzled.

“the thing is...before the game started, i was at the tent and i glanced around the stands to look for you–just to, you know, wave at you or something.” he laughs before continuing, “i didn’t see you, so i thought, i don’t know, maybe you didn’t come? i was...kinda sad. i don’t even know why. it’s not like just because i didn’t see you doesn’t mean you weren’t there. but anyway, i’m really glad you made it. and i’m really happy i won,” he smirks.

you’re not sure you’re able to process his words. they tug at your ears but no avail. they go straight to your heart. they stay there, snuggled together. “donghyuck...what are you trying to say?”

donghyuck doesn’t speak. instead, he sets his bag on the floor, brings a hand around your waist and urges you close. you gasp, but it’s immediately drowned out by the feeling of his lips on yours. the kiss only lasts a few seconds, but to you, it feels like an eternity. his lips are soft, plump and sweet–you wonder what lip balm he uses. he pulls away, grinning.

“woah,” you breathe.

“i’m trying to say that i like you, y/n. and i really wanted to kiss you after winning the game.” donghyuck gingerly twirls a strand of your hair around his finger.

you giggle, burying your face in his chest. he smooths your hair out and props his chin atop your head. “i like you too–a lot, actually,” you say.

he hums, “that’s a relief.” he pulls away to look at your face, admiring every detail, every curve, every feature. “you’re really pretty.”

you roll your eyes, “shut up and kiss me again.”

and he does.

#haechan fluff #haechan x reader #haechan imagines #haechan fics #haechan blurbs #haechan drabbles #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck imagines #donghyuck fics #donghyuck blurbs #donghyuck drabbles #nct haechan #nct donghyuck #lee haechan #lee donghyuck #mine #req

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westerhos · 4 years ago

Text

Our Story: Chapters 2-3

Thank you to everyone who has sent such lovely messages about this story! Happy to hear some of you are re-reading it while others are discovering it for the first time. Now for the next two chapters, which really should have been one...

[December 24th, 1990]

Their home is a modest one—a studio clinging to edges of the city, not far from where they first met. It’s an older building, mid-19th century, with pipes that freeze in the winter, burst like Scottish primrose in the summer. There is a single window on its western side, which welcomes the December-white sun at each day’s end. And it is here, lined along this sill, that Claire’s plants reach hungry towards the sky, try to trap this silver sliver of heat inside their veins.

Save for the flowers, theirs is an ascetic sort of décor. Sparse like a monk’s quarters—though Jamie and Claire hardly mind. They decorate the empty corners with their future, hatched in whispers during the night.

One day, Jamie promises, they’ll have Persian rugs and a four-poster bed. One day, they’ll own a leather sofa, its cushions like butter against Claire’s bare thighs. “And a vase!” she adds. “All fancy people have vases.”

But for now, they sleep on a musty twin cot, their belongings stored in the trunk at its foot. Jamie’s manuscripts are stacked inside, their pages marked in ballpoint scribbles and soil-dusted fingerprints. (“I canna read what this says anymore!” Jamie yells. “S’okay,” Claire says. “That paragraph was rubbish anyways.”) He’s an editorial assistant, the paltry salary worth the power of the red pen, which reshapes the written world to his liking. It buys food and rent, and covers what med school tuition Claire’s scholarship does not.

It’s a quiet life, but a happy life.

Claire yawns. “Did you know that every Christmas Eve my uncle told me a story? Made it up himself, right on the spot.”

“Are ye trying to tell me ye want a story?”

“I may be hinting at that, yes.”

“Ach,” Jamie says. Her favorite sound, every inch of him encapsulated in this strange, Scottish scoff. “Your subtly always turns me on.”

“Oh, hush. C’mon.”

He runs a hand through his hair, auburn and cinnabar limned in moonbeam.

“A good story on the spot? That’s no small amount of pressure, Sassenach.”

“How about a request then?” she offers, and Jamie raises a brow. “How about my favorite?”

“Yer favorite?”

“Don’t play coy. You know. The one you always start incorrectly? She is wearing a holiday sweater, a confection of silver bells and sequined penguins…”

“Weel, it’s a much better beginning than the ‘curl of my lips’…”

“Debatable,” Claire replies, tongue tracing the valley of his cupid’s bow.

But Jamie nods, chooses a different beginning this time: “It was immediate…”

He twists one of Claire’s curls around his finger and inhales. She still smells like the springtime, earthy and ripe, and perhaps there’s a hint of his own musk now, too. He likes it this way, enjoys finding proof of his existence somewhere beneath her skin. Permanent.

“Immediate!” Claire echoes, a one-woman Greek chorus. She is pressed into him, feeling his chest curve around her spine. It always surprises her how their bodies fit so perfectly, their limbs folding and molding to fill all their negative spaces. (And she has so many, our Claire, between her toes and between her ribs. Vacant rooms where her mother, her father, and her uncle once lived.)

“Aye, from the minute I saw ye, I ken you belonged wi’ me.”

“Mmm,” she hums, not saying, “Of course I felt the same thing,” or “Of course I loved you from the very first.” Because, of course, Jamie knows this already. (Strange, they both think, how the heart can move faster than the speed of light.)

“Speaking of which…” she says.

“Ye don’t want to hear the rest?”

“In a sec,” she replies. “But your friends seem to think we should get married. Dougal especially.”

“They do,” Jamie says softly. “And Dougal does—to him, maybe.” He brings Claire’s hand to his lips, smiles into the Christmas present he’s wrapped around her finger. A ring: one mounted pearl, taken from his mother’s necklace. (“No’ an engagement ring, mind,” though they both knew it meant forever.)

“Do you, though? Think we should get married?”

“I’ll do anything that means I can call ye mine.”

“You already can.”

“Aye, but I dinna think the law agrees wi’ you.”

“Devil take the law.”

Jamie laughs. “I reckon the Devil doesna want the law either, Sassenach. He hates the law.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“Which is?”

Claire turns towards him, remembers this past year together: their first date (Italian restaurant, 9PM showing of Pretty Woman), their first fight (broken coffee mugs, a noise complaint). She remembers the first time they made love in this small, crooked flat: middle of the floor, surrounded by packing boxes and crumpled newspaper. The bubble wrap had crackled beneath them—pop-pop-pop!—as if they were dancing on fireworks. (“I never want to leave this place,” she’d told him. He thought she’d meant the flat, but she’d meant his arms.)

“Which is…Well. Do you want to marry me, James Fraser?”

He squints. “Is that a proposal?”

“Yes.”

“Then why aren’t ye on your knees?”

“You bloody—”

Claire’s elbow swings towards his face, but Jamie catches it, stretches her arm back so that her palm lies flat against the wall. He rolls on top of her, leans down and lets her heart beat against his lips. Wills it into him until his blood thrums with it. The sound of their story.

“Yes,” Jamie says. “I want to marry you, Claire Beauchamp.”

“You mean Claire Fraser?”

He laughs; she smiles (they are both winners on this day).

“Aye. Beauchamp, Sassenach, Fraser.” His voice drops, a whisper: “My wife.”

[December 24th, 1991]

While Jamie and Claire’s studio remains the same, the flowers change with the turn of seasons: baby-skinned petals become felted cloth, neon-bright as they hang from a child’s mobile. The pots along the sill are gone, their soil-dust trails swiped away and their roots transplanted to a community garden. In their place, sits a collection of shiny, new tools for a shiny, new crib, which stands half-assembled beside the cot. The flower mobile blooms above it, suspended in silent wait for spring. For Faith.

Come April, Jamie and Claire will bring the sunshine into their home, no longer needing the single window and its lancing, evening light. Come April, they will have marigold walls, yellow linens, and bright rubber duckies floating in the sink. All of this for the baby that will sleep inside the shiny, new crib beneath the flowers that will never die.

Faith. This is the name they have given their future, no longer an unfurnished corner in their studio, but a growing presence inside Claire’s belly.

“Ugh!”

“That bad is it?”

“Worse than bad. I look like a whale who’s just fucked a Christmas tree.”

Jamie opens his eyes, his wife framed by his fingers, and he moves his hands to stifle a laugh.

“And a few wee penguins at that…”

“You’re not helping,” Claire whines, examining her reflection in the mirror. Rounded cheeks, rounder stomach; sharp lines blurred by months of pregnancy. All afternoon, she has scolded and cajoled, bribed and threatened, her cottons and nylons. But the fabrics have been stubborn, loath to surrender their bodily claims to the child pushing against them.

“Jamie, I can’t go out wearing this.”

“I dinna see how you’ve much choice in the matter, Sassenach. We should've gone to Waverly yesterday,” Jamie replies. The sweater—the same one she’d worn the evening they met—hugs her stomach. Tight but still discreet, the purest flash of flesh above her waistline. “Party’s at 8. We’ve no time to go shopping for a proper outfit. It’s either that or what God gave ye.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be a treat? A naked, pregnant woman sipping virgin egg nog in front of the buffet. Happy bloody Christmas!”

“Angus wouldna mind.”

“Well, so long as the host is happy.”

“I wouldna mind.”

Claire snorts and twirls, as if to say, “Are you sure of that?” (He is, absolutely, and to the marrow of his bones.)

Jamie sighs. “D’ye want me to wear mine too?”

“You mean your lager-stained pullover? With the Santa looks that looks like he’s got vomit in his beard?

“Aye, that’s the one.”

“Yes,” she replies, grinning. She remembers where it lies amongst the rest of their clothes, just as she remembers its wooly scratch against her breasts two years before. Jaime’s hands (so much larger than hers, even then) lifting it up and over, laying her bare beneath the fluorescent lights of his dorm room. “Yes, I want you to wear your Belligerent Santa jumper.”

Jamie nods.

“And no beer for you, either. Just store-bought non-alcoholic egg nog. My misery needs company.”

“Fair is fair.”

“And—”

“There’s more?”

“Much more.”

“Ach, weel. Anything for the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“Oh, Rupert will be so grateful you think so, Jamie.”

“What are friends for?” He draws closer, vibrating. “But what about you, Sassenach?”

“Me? You’ll look more ridiculous than I will. I’ll be peachy and taking shots of fake egg-nog!”

Claire finds the sweater and throws it to Jamie, watches him catch the frayed and wrinkled ball of it. The hem is still an unraveled spool, which she winds and winds around her finger. Once, twice, three times until it marks her skin in a pale, white ring. She pulls it taut, feels the slow draining of her finger as the blood retreats, towards her husband. Electricity between them (the pipes groan, the winter thaw come at last).

“Now,” Claire purrs, “put that on so I can take it off you.”

“D’ye think we have time?”

“Of course we do,” she says. "We always have time." (Not always, not forever.)

“Well then,” Jamie says, bowing. “Your servant, madam.”

At this point, I still had no idea where I was going with this story, and I think that’s abundantly clear here. Regardless, I was very much taken with the “romanticism” of being poor, in love, and bohemian in New York City—so these two chapters are basically my written daydreams about being a young Patti Smith. Luckily, that never happened! Although I did wind up living in a tiny long-term Airbnb with an opera singer, a grand piano that took up the. entire. living. room., and a very uncomfortable futon that I slept on for my first 6 months in Brooklyn.

These are really the last ~~happy~~ chapters for a while, which is totally a reflection of the fact that I had moved to Brooklyn and was scared, lonely, and just generally very angsty, lol. So my apologies for what lies ahead.

One closing thought: Why did I choose Pretty Woman as Jamie and Claire’s first date movie, lol? Had I just watched it? Did I just associate the ‘90s with Julia Roberts romantic comedies? Did I not bother researching other movies that came out in 1990? Your guess is as good as mine!!!

#myfic #outlander #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp

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kittydemon9000 · 4 years ago

Text

Growing Up

For @fangirl-616‘s Master of Emotion AU. It’s great and I highly recommend checking it out

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Even before his parents disappeared, Kai knew there was something off about himself.

Regular kids’ hair and clothes didn’t change colors. Regular kids didn’t make weird purple walls when they had nightmares or turn invisible when they were embarrassed. Regular kids couldn’t suddenly grow taller when they saw something new on the top shelf or make yellow butterflies that made toys move.

Not even his parents knew what was wrong with him, and they had explanations for everything.

But, being a child, he didn’t question it. After all, what kind of kid would complain about having super powers.

And at first, it was great. He had to be careful that his toys wouldn’t attack anymore visitors(poor Dr.Saunders still refused to go into his room, which didn’t make sense, his toys were always well behaved around everyone else) and to not slam anymore doors, but other than that his life was good and easy.

Until his parents went missing.

He and Nya had been playing with some of his butterflies outside. Dr.Saunders was visiting again, but he and Nya weren’t interested in any of their adult stuff.

The two siblings had gone running off into the nearby woods, chasing the butterflies around for hours.

They hadn’t realized how much time had passed until they saw the sun setting.

They weren’t worried yet, however. After all, maybe mom and dad had just decided to let them play for a little longer than usual.

The house was empty when they got back. The last few remaining butterflies started disappearing and purple was starting to creep up on the fading yellow.

But maybe they had gone to help Dr. Saunders with something, and they had left a note for Kai to read. Right?

They searched the house top to bottom. There was no note.

The moon went down and the sun came up.

There was no sign of them.

And there wasn’t any sign the next day. Or the next. Or the day after that, or after that, or after that.

Kai realized their parents weren’t coming back a lot sooner than Nya did.

Kai started racking his brain for every memory he had of dad working in the forge, trying to remember how to do it. He took odd jobs around Ignacia to get money, and stole if he had to(Nya didn’t know that).

Luckily his neighbors were mostly nice and gave him good deals in exchange for some help, like moving boxes or helping paint a fence.

He still had to drop out of school after 5th grade. He tried to help Nya the best he could, but most of the time she ended up teaching him(not that he wasn’t grateful, but it made him feel dumb(which Nya insisted he wasn’t)).

Most days were spent red or orange, a few navy or purple ones here or there, but no yellow. Never yellow. He had too much to do. He didn’t have time to play like all the other kids his age. He had to take care of Nya.

After a few years on their own, the two fell into a rhythm, slowly picking up the pieces of their shattered life.

Nya was doing amazing in school, and she soon became old enough to help him in the shop(despite Kai insisting she should be out socializing with other kids and not stuck in a store all day).

But there were some days when there was too much, be it too many tasks and responsibilities, or too many emotions from others, like on a busy market day or a back to school night.

Those days were the worst of all.

Those were the days when he ran as far into the forest as he could, just to get some quiet. Nya knew better than to follow him after the first time. That part of the forest was still regrowing.

And when he was alone, Kai would cry and scream and yell, black, navy, orange and red chasing each other around and around until Kai was finished.

Nya never asked about what happened in the forest, and Kai wouldn’t tell.

Their life was almost perfect again. Nya had graduated high school top of her class and had earned a scholarship to a great college, and the shop was doing well. Heck, if this kept up maybe in a few years Kai would be able to go to a night school or something and get a better job!

Of course, all those plans went right out the window the second the skeletons showed up.

Kai couldn’t quite explain what set him on edge. In his life, Kai had met more than a few bad people. It was times like that that made Kai very thankful he had his powers. Like that boy Nya beat in her science fair who reeked of jealousy, arrogance and lies(it made his arrest for assault all the more easy to predict).

But the skeletons were all that and so much more. Even before they had appeared from over the hill, he could feel their malice and hatred. But there was also something else. Something that made Kai sick to his stomach.

Whatever it was, it was something he wanted to keep it as far away from Nya as possible.

But, it seemed like Nya had other ideas. He should’ve known his baby sister was too stubborn to sit inside where it was safe.

One second he was bashing boneheads with his sister at his back, the next he was on his back as the old man who was talking of ninjas and insulting their wares became a tiny golden tornado and saved his life.

Barely seconds later, the four armed skeleton, Samukai, he remembered the old man called him, brought the water tower down.

He remembered the water tower falling.

He remembered his clothing turning purple and a barrier going up.

He remembered Nya and old man’s cries being consumed by the roaring of water and crashing of wood.

He didn’t remember the barrier not being strong enough.

He didn’t remember being knocked unconscious.

He didn’t remember Nya being taken.

When he’d finally awaken, the sun was back. He was lying on his bed in his room above the shop. For a second, he thought the whole thing was just a crazy dream, until he saw the old man enter.

He accidentally broke the cup he was given when he was told Nya had been captured. The old man looked slightly shocked as his clothes went from calm cyan to an angry orange, but Kai couldn’t care less.

He jumped at the man’s offer to train him.

He would do anything to get his baby sister back.

But little did he know what he was getting into.

#master of emotion #kai smith #ninjago

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allsassnoclass · 4 years ago

Note

Hi M! Can I please request "an actual open honest conversation" + "falling asleep over skype or chat" with Cashton? 💞 -blackbutterfliescal💛

alrighty here you go @blackbutterfliescal

Ashton's face is half-obscured when Calum calls him, shadows flickering over him from the street lights he keeps passing under and beanie flattening his hair so his curls fall further into his eyes than usual.

"Hey," Ashton says, adjusting one of his earbuds. "What's up?"

"I could've waited to call," Calum says. "I didn't know you were still out."

"I'm just coming back from the library," Ashton says. "Besides, I always want to talk to you, and I'll be back at the apartment in no time."

"What were you doing in the library at three in the morning?"

"I had a paper due tomorrow. It's not great, but it's good enough that I can leave the edits for the morning."

"Oh," Calum says. "You should probably go to bed, then, if you're going to get up to edit."

"Not tired yet," Ashton replies automatically. "Besides, I want to talk to you. What's up?"

Calum shifts, trying to get comfortable under the covers and still be able to see the screen. He misses Ashton's face, more than he conceivably should given how often they snapchat and FaceTime.

"Nothing much," he says eventually, once he's decided that laying on his side is the best option.

"Are you going to keep bullshitting me? Because this is the latest you've asked to call and I know that something's been bothering you. If you want to talk around it, we can, but I don't think you would've called me at three in the morning if that's the case."

Calum sighs, but he expected this. Ashton knows him too well to allow him to get away with lying about how he's been doing.

"I feel really fucking shitty," he says and then, to his great embarrassment, immediately starts crying.

The worst thing is that he never cries. Michael can get teary-eyed over those sad dog commercials and Luke sniffles at half the Disney movies he watches, but the last time Calum cried was when he broke his leg as a kid. It hurt like hell and he thought he would never get to play soccer again until his mom corrected that assumption.

"Woah, hey," Ashton says gently. "It's alright, Cal. Whatever it is, you'll get through it."

Calum shakes his head.

"Remember to breathe," Ashton says, and Calum obediently forces air back into his lungs. On camera, Ashton enters his apartment and flicks on the light.

"I d-don't want to be here," Calum sobs. "I hate school, I'm f-failing half my classes, I have no friends, I don't--I just want to be back home, with you and Michael and Luke again. I miss my family. I miss my house. I miss just--sitting in the back yard with you doing nothing, or going to get fries late at night because we didn’t want to go home, or any of those ridiculous adventures you dragged me on.”

He takes another shaky breath, swiping at his eyes. It does nothing to stop the flow of tears.

“Cal, it’s okay,” Ashton tries desperately.

“It’s not! You don’t understand. You’ve never had an issue making friends. You’ve always known what you want to do with your life and you’ve never gotten anything less than a B. I have nothing.”

“I thought you get along with the soccer team.”

Calum rolls his eyes, even though Ashton probably can’t see it in the darkness of his room.

“They don’t hate me, but I’m not friends with any of them. The only reason I have their numbers is because it’s on the team roster. It’s not like we’re getting lunch or forming a study group of anything.”

Calum didn’t have a friend until he had Michael, and he didn’t really have friends plural until Luke and Ashton came into the picture. He was terrified coming to college without any of them, but part of him had still hoped that his fear would be unfounded.

“What about your roommate?” Ashton asks. “I thought you two were okay.”

“I haven’t seen him for the past five days,” Calum says. “He texts me to let me know he’s staying over at his girlfriend’s, but that’s it. I should have gone to your school. At least then I wouldn’t be miserable.”

“Calum--”

“I know, I know.”

“You can’t choose your school because of me,” Ashton says gently. “My university doesn’t have the program you wanted and it’s too far away for your family to visit for a weekend. You wouldn’t have been happy. It probably would’ve led to us fighting.”

Calum rolls his eyes again, because he knows that. Everyone under the sun told him that he shouldn’t choose his school based on a high school romance, regardless of the fact that said romance is with Ashton, the love of his life. Luke and Michael ignored everyone who said that and now Calum gets to see all of their instagram pictures and snapchat updates, both of them looking perfectly content and utterly in love.

Maybe he should’ve gone to school with them. If he hadn’t gotten a soccer scholarship to his current school, he probably would have tried to scrape up the money to and wouldn’t feel so fucking lonely all the time. He already did two years of being without Ashton since he graduated before them, and it was bearable with his two best friends still by his side. Without any of them he feels untethered, adrift amidst an ocean with a storm brewing on the horizon and no lifejackets in sight.

“I miss you,” Calum says.

“I know, sweetheart,” Ashton says. He’s in his own bedroom now, phone propped up in his desk.

Calum misses him so much he aches with it.

“What’s going on with your classes?” Ashton asks. “You haven’t said anything about failing them before.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Calum pouts. Ashton sighs. “Look, they just suck, okay? I’m behind. Nothing makes sense. The teachers are mean and the classmates are mean and I don’t fucking understand anything.”

“Have you been going to class?”

Calum scrubs a hand over his face, hating this conversation more and more as it continues. Ashton can judge the answer by his silence, and he knows that it’s not the one he should be giving.

“You can’t learn if you don’t go to class, and your professors are going to be more willing to work with you if they see you making an effort.”

“I know.”

“Okay, okay,” Ashton says gently. “I know you do, Cal, but that’s the only advice I have. Can you talk to a TA or go to some office hours?”

Calum shrugs.

“When do you have class tomorrow?”

“Eight,” Calum says.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ashton hums in sympathy, “and you’re still awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Ashton hums again.

“I’m going to call you tomorrow to be sure you’re headed over,” he says.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Ashton says. “I like talking to you in the morning, anyway. It’s a good start.”

Calum buries his face in his pillow.

“What?” Ashton asks.

“Everyone is going to judge me,” Calum mumbles, moving his face out of the pillow just enough for Ashton to be able to understand what he’s saying and for him to get some oxygen, because watching him suffocate on a video call would probably be traumatic for Ashton.

“They won’t,” Ashton says definitively. “They have their own shit to worry about. Half of them are probably in the same boat, anyway.”

Calum hums.

“You know, I thought I was going to fail some of my classes at midterms my first semester. I barely managed to scrape them all up to a B and save my scholarship.”

“What?” Calum frowns, but when he looks at his phone Ashton doesn’t seem like he’s lying. “You never said anything.”

Ashton shrugs.

“I didn’t want you to worry, I guess. It was hard enough being away from everyone, and when we talked I wanted to be able to enjoy it instead of making us both stress. I think part of me also thought I had to like… justify why I went so far away, I guess. Like if I had been having a bad time it would’ve just proven that I should’ve gone to community college like everyone was expecting. Everyone made sacrifices to get me here. I didn’t want that to be in vain.”

Ashton has always acted like he has to do everything himself. It took a long time to get him to open up when they first became friends, but Calum has always tried to give him endless support.

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re not a failure for how you’re feeling right now, or anything like that,” Ashton says. “You’ve only been at college for a few weeks. Everyone struggles a little to adjust, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

Ashton may be right, but that doesn’t necessarily tell Calum how to fix this.

“If you put in the work, it’s still plenty early enough to get your grades up to passing,” Ashton says. “And if you still despise all of your classes by the end of the semester, you can talk to your advisor about switching majors. They might be able to point you towards something that you’d enjoy learning about more. Your career center might have one of those tests you can take that tell you what fields you should go into, too. As for the friend thing, maybe start with the soccer team? You’re a fucking delight, Calum. Once people realize that, you’ll make friends, but you have to encourage them to get close enough. Maybe you could ask about a team dinner at a dining hall. Hell, maybe you could ask your neighbor on the floor if they want to go get dinner. The worst that can happen is they say no, and that’s their loss.”

“Okay,” Calum says quietly. “It’s hard, though.”

Even thinking about approaching someone is making his palms sweat. He’s not as shy as he used to be, Michael and Luke and Ashton all bolstering his confidence since they became friends, but it’s a lot easier when they’re with him instead of over an hour away.

“I know it is,” Ashton says. “You can do it, though. I know you can.”

Calum hums.

“What can I do?” Ashton asks. “How can I help right now?”

Asking Ashton to skip his classes tomorrow and make the drive to stay with him for a bit is unreasonable, and Calum wants to do this without resorting to any unreasonable whining. Even though Ashton said he’s not a failure for how he’s feeling, he’s going to feel like one if he doesn’t manage to get through this.

“I should probably go to bed,” Calum says.

“Are you going to be able to get to sleep?”

He doesn’t answer right away, because he’s pretty sure that as soon as they hang up he’s going to start crying again or toss and turn until his alarm goes off or Ashton calls again to get him to class.

“Cal?”

“Probably not.”

“Do you want me to keep talking? Or maybe you could play some music to help you relax more?”

“Can you keep talking?” Calum asks. He doesn’t say I miss you again, because that would be redundant, but he’s pretty sure Ashton hears it, anyway. “You could read a phone book if you want, I just want to hear your voice.”

Ashton hums, riffling through various books on his desk.

“You could read your essay,” Calum says. “You don’t have to talk to me very long, just a little bit more, then maybe stay on as you get ready for bed.”

“You’re sure you want to hear about how Shakespeare uses the family as a microcosm of society?”

“Yeah, that’ll put me right to sleep,” he snorts. Ashton gives him a look that makes Calum smile for what feels like the first time tonight.

“Okay, buckle up,” Ashton says. “This is a riveting essay. This essay could win me awards.”

“You said it’s bad earlier.”

“I said it’s not great, but it will be once I edit a bit. As a stem major you have forfeited your right to judge.”

Calum rolls his eyes and snuggles deeper under the covers. Ashton clears his throat and begins reading, voice even and gentle. Calum lets the words wash over him and tries to get his muscles to relax, sinking further into his shitty dorm mattress. Somewhere between Ashton’s explanations about the rottenness of Denmark relating directly to the unraveling of the ruling family and Ashton thinking quietly out loud as he switches words around in his edits, Calum falls asleep.

#my writing #cashton #this is from the first week in november #trying to empty my inbox of the prompts in it #I have 5 others? I think?#anyway how about college aus. I do quite a few college aus #this was either going to be a confession of love or hurt/comfort #and I went with hurt/comfort

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saharamae21 · 4 years ago

Text

Vapor (Part 18)

Hey guys.... It’s been a while, but happy late thanksgiving. Sorry I meant to update before I went home but here I am. I’m sleep deprieved and stressed but I love ya all. Please let me know if you want this to keep going on.

GIVE ME FEEDBACK - I WANNA KNOW IF YOU GUYS EVEN WANT TO READ THIS STILL

Work count: 1.5K

Warnings: Language, mentions of kidnapping and violence.

IMPORTANT (PLS READ) : There is two ways this fic can go depending on what you guys want. It can go on for about 3-4 more chapters or about 7-10 more chapters. I don’t know if you guys aren’t reading it anymore or if you lost interest, so please let me know.

_________________________________________

I had no sense of time anymore. Everything was a hazy mess as I woke up and fell asleep, constantly under the influence of some sort of drug. I wondered if it had been hours or days. I wondered if anyone was looking for me. I wanted to believe that JJ was spending every waking moment searching for me, but I couldn’t be sure. As the drugs played tricks on my mind, I remembered the look on his face. The way he glared at me caused my heart to sink further and further into my stomach. Ever since I was 12, I just kept disappointing him more and more. And as much as I loved him, I would be lying if I hadn’t thought that me being out of his life was for the best. I brought out the most extreme sides of him, the parts of himself he couldn’t control. I made him contemplate everything he’s ever known. I didn’t want to tear him apart anymore.

I woke up and the room was silent. No lights were on and the walls were moving in a ripple like effect. I could barely see through the darkness, but as the minutes passed, I became more and more coherent. I knew better than to speak out at this point. I knew better than to draw attention back to myself. As the current waves of drugs left my system, my mind wandered back to the pogues.

I wondered if John B had worked out a way to get the gold. I wondered if he and Sarah were happy together. John was always one of those people that you look at and smile. To me, he always had things figured out to an extent. He might not work well under pressure all the time, but he preservers no matter what. I knew that he would thrive no matter what the situation was. The truth was, John and I were never super close. I constantly competed with him for JJ’s attention and that often made us argue. I respected him though for doing the one thing I couldn’t the past few years, protect JJ.

I wondered if Pope had gone to his scholarship interview already. I had no doubts in my mind that he would crush it. He was the smartest person I knew and that was honestly an understatement. Not only was he booksmart, but he was streetsmart as well. He knew how to handle himself in a situation and overcome everything. He might not completely understand social cues, but he was still one of the most friendly souls that I have and will ever meet. If I ever needed anything, he would be the first person I would go to for help.

I wondered if Kiara was holding up. She had her hands full with the three boys. I remembered always being jealous of her as I grew up. She became a kook and they still wanted her around, but when I became a kook, they were so ready to push me away. I wondered what made her special enough to keep around over me, but as I grew closer to them all again I began to realize. She was special. She knew exactly how to handle everyone and keep situations under control. She was also the most caring and genuine person I’ve ever met. I would’ve kept her around over me as well. I hoped she wasn’t trying to pick up the pieces of the mess I caused.

I wondered if JJ cared that I was gone. I wondered if he thought I had disappeared on him again and that this was good riddance. I wondered if he was tearing himself apart. I couldn’t figure out which scenario I wanted more. On one hand, I wanted him to care that I wasn’t by his side right now. I wanted him to tell me he loved me and that nothing would ever hurt me again. However, with that came the guilt. I knew he would be worried sick. I knew that he would blame himself. Then there was the part of me that wished he couldn’t care less about me. The one where his anger gets the better of him and he eliminates me from his mind. He wouldn’t hurt that way. He wouldn’t see me as I slowly unraveled. But, after how long would he begin to lose bits of himself? Would he close himself off to the world again? Even if that did happen, he would have his friends to help him pull through.

I lifted my head once again and my throat felt dry. Nothing had changed since my thoughts ran wild, but something in me had changed. I was preparing to give up. I had reflected on the ones I loved the most and I had made peace with the idea of slipping through their fingers once again. My head was spinning and my body felt heavy. I was thankful for the moments that I had spent reconnecting with them, but this was the full circle ending that my life was destined. I didn’t die like all the children before me even though I was nothing special. Nothing set me apart from those children and I should’ve suffered the same fate. I shouldn’t have to live knowing that I was the one that got away… This was the ending of my full cycle.

JJ’s POV:

I sat awake and thinking about all the horrible things Addie could be going through. I wondered if I should tell her parents. Maybe they would know what to do, but how could I tell them I lost their daughter for a second time? I mentally screamed at myself. I knew that I should be out doing something, anything, but what if she came home while I was away. What if I just messed everything up further? A million thoughts ran through my head at a million miles an hour and I couldn’t keep track of them all. I let out a soft sigh and buried my head into the pillow beside me. How could I live with myself knowing that I kept failing her over and over?

I raised my head at the quiet knock and a small voice. My name left their mouth in a desperate manner. Sarah stood cautiously at the door, staring at me with sad eyes. I knew that none of this was her fault, but anger still filled me when I saw her. Her brother was doing this to Addie. Her family always looked down on people like me. That didn’t mean she was like that though. I saw the way John B and her cared for each other and I was happy for them. I just wasn’t happy at all right now.

“JJ?” she asked again. My eyes met hers and I looked away.

“Go away…” I muttered. My voice cracked as I forced the words out. I knew she was just checking up on me, but I didn’t think there was anything she could say to make me feel better. I was wrong.

“I think I know where Addie could be…” Her words repeated in my mind as I rushed with her to the car. My hands were shaking and I was sweating. I sat in the passenger seat and tried not to lose my cool. I just needed her to drive faster. I needed Addie. When we arrived at the shipping dock, I thought she was pulling my leg. I looked around frantically and saw no sign of A. I was losing my fucking mind without her.

“This way…” Sarah muttered. Her voice was small and scared. I followed her up to a shipping crate. I heard her mumbling about how her parents use this for storage. I heard her, but I wasn’t listening. I started as she fumbled with the keys and opened the doors slowly. The crate was dark, but I could still see perfectly. Addie.

I rushed forward to her and knelt down in front of her. I gently placed my hand on her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open and stared at me. Tears filled my eyes at how weak she looked. I muttered out apology after apology, begging for her to forgive me. I untied her as I pleaded. As soon as her arms were free, she reached forward and lifted my shirt. She said nothing, but she brushed her hand over my closed wound. I broke down at the small action. I told her to stop. I told her to stop worrying about me. I told her I was sorry. It wasn’t enough though. She made herself small around me. She was hurt because of me. I pulled her into my arms, lifting her to carry her to the car. Her small, hoarse voice whispered softly next to my ear.

“I’m sorry,” she said. I hugged her tightly in my arms as if to tell her I would never let her go again.

“No, no, no. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I said back. I rushed to the car, my main focus on getting her somewhere safe. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

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GIVE ME FEEDBACK - I WANNA KNOW IF YOU GUYS EVEN WANT TO READ THIS STILL

Tag List : @thebendslikebendover @justcallmesams @jellyfishbeansontoast @prejudic3 @jjtheangel @jiaraendgame @obxmxybxnk @waywardbarbie @talksoprettyjjx @bb-tings @agirlwholovescoffee-blog @thoughtsofthestars @outerbankslut @potterheadhollander @baby-pogue @obxlife @queenieloveswriting @rockyyc77 @beth-winchester @outerbongs @sunwardsss @ilovejjmaybank @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @jjmaybankwildtimes @canibeoneofthepogues @raekenliar @jjpogueprincess @casper17 @waywardbabie @iateamoth @judayyyw @drewswannabegirl @maybanksbaby

#JJ Imagine #jj x reader #jj one shot #SHUT UP JJ #jj #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank obx #jj maybank imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank #obx #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outerbanks #jj outerbanks #sguymon21 #vapor

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cavalierious-whim · 3 years ago

Text

Felix sneaks into Sylvain's dorm for a nap because he misses him. Then he sees the shirt. Part 4 of 'Something, Something, Fate'.

Prior knowledge of the collected series isn't necessary but you should read them anyway. Read here on AO3 for better quality, and follow me here on Twitter!

Felix hates how utterly predictable he’s become, pining for Sylvain literally every moment of his goddamned life.

Sylvain isn’t even far away; he’s just down the street taking a final. He’ll be back later on after his test. Still. It isn’t soon enough, not for a man who feels so heavily burdened by want. It’s like Felix is in a constant state of need, like he has to get his hands on Sylvain whenever he can.

His dreams have, truly, suffered.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” said Annette to him when he complained a few days back.

Fuck that nonsense, thought Felix, which is probably why he’s always the first to cave when they get busy like this. It turns out that Sylvain has surprising restraint when it comes down to it.

Felix has a key to Sylvain’s dorm. Uses it way more than he’d like to admit, sneaking in and under the covers to nap until Sylvain shows up tired and sleepy enough to join him. Those days are nice, the best, really. Lazy ones where all they do is cuddle with wandering hands and watch Netflix on Sylvain’s ancient television, the one where one-third of the LEDs are burnt out.

It hangs crookedly on the wall because Sylvain’s useless at being a handyman.

Felix sighs as he shucks off his jeans and falls into the mattress, a twin size that’s too small for the both of them. It kind of makes Felix love it more, not that he’d ever admit to it. There’s a lot that he refuses to publicly acknowledge, like how Sylvain’s entirely rebranded him inside and out, practically forged him anew.

Annette says that Felix has been kinder as of late, which he hates on principle. “Softer,” she’d said to him awhile back. “It’s nice, Felix. Seeing you happy.”

And he is happy, a strange little wonder that Felix never thought he’d experience again. He’d come to University to fence, get away from his father, and forget about his brother. He’d found something else entirely.

No complaints. Never , complaints. As dumb as Sylvain can be for someone so smart, Felix wouldn’t trade him for the world, because if he did, then Felix’s world would be gone.

“Ugh,” he murmurs, settling against Sylvain’s pillow, hating how simple he gets when it comes to just the thought of the man. His heart all soft and all mushy, the tell-tale lump that forms in his throat. This is why Felix never went looking for love; love turns people into dumb hormonal messes who can barely function. Like right now.

In the end, Felix loves it. How he gets lost in Sylvain, physically and emotionally, the way they can be so utterly connected through something as simple as feelings and want. And touch.

The bed smells like Sylvain and it calms Felix, lulls him into a soft moment of peace and relaxation. Felix hasn’t had much lately, with finals and tournaments. He and Sylvain spend what time they can together but--

Well, there’s a reason he’s snuck into Sylvain’s dorm and bedsheets. Felix fucking misses him. Misses Sylvain’s dumb puns and ill-timed innuendo. The way that his fingers comb through his hair and scratch at his scalp when they lay like bumps on a log in the sheets, watching reruns of Masterchef.

Felix sighs in dreamlike bliss, having softened around the edges as he sinks into the mattress.

And then he sees the shirt.

It’s an unassuming thing, a simple long-sleeved button-down, crumpled up and tossed to the corner. Sylvain wore it the other day for a formal function and then likely threw it aside, forgetting all about it.

Felix reaches out and pulls it closer, pressing his face into the soft cotton fabric. It’s lightly worn and rumpled. Smells like Sylvain, and the ridiculous pine and sandalwood soap he uses. Felix can get lost in it, eyes slipping closed as he breathes in.

He’s a fool for how he pines, but a welcome fool, he supposes. There are far worse things to be addicted to, like training until his hamstrings fall off. This is a far better alternative.

Felix sits up for a moment to pull his shirt off. Then he pulls Sylvain’s on. He’s swimming in it, the sleeve cuffs falling past his fingertips and the hemline near his thighs. Surrounded by Sylvain’s scent, practically drowning in it.

It has an immediate effect, Felix’s cock twitching with interest. He can’t find it within himself to be annoyed; he’s far too antsy and it’s been several days since they’ve seen each other proper.

Felix is practically starving. So, he lays back into the mattress, settling into the blanket, and thinks of Sylvain.

This shirt is a good cut that hugs Sylvain’s form nicely. Felix remembers well-- he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of him. Some dumb function for something aerospace-related. Sylvain had to go for department appearances, being the premier student on their scholarship.

And Felix had gone as his date. Spent the entire night watching him and the way that the shirt stretched tightly over Sylvain’s chest. His damn pecs, and how Sylvain always leaves the top few buttons undone to show off his collarbone.

Felix’s weakness, truly. The swell of muscle and the dusting of chest hair. How he likes to sweep his hand across the smooth and defined ridges of Sylvain’s front. His hand slips down and between his legs, squeezing at his clothed cock.

He should’ve taken off his briefs earlier, should’ve slid into Sylvain’s bed butt-naked as a nice surprise but--

Well, Felix hadn’t thought that far.

Too late now, thinks Felix, his fingers ghosting along the tented edge of his dick. He sweeps his hand along his length, groaning softly. He shouldn’t do this. Sylvain will be home before he knows it, tired and wasted from his finals.

He thinks about waiting for Sylvain instead for about a moment. Forgets the idea nearly immediately because he’s too horny, and the shirt just smells too damn good.

Felix can make it work if he tries his damndest. He can be a fairly quick shot when he’s hot and bothered enough, much to his embarrassment. But, he’s got a short refractory period, something that haunts Felix’s dirtiest dreams. And Sylvain’s dreams too, if his complaints were to be believed.

So, the plan is simple: jerk himself off in record time, and then have a second go when Sylvain comes home. Sylvain’s a simple enough man; he finds Felix irresistible when he’s up to his neck in fencing gear. Half-naked in his bed and wearing his shirt will probably murder him.

It’s an idea that spurs Felix on, the way that Sylvain looks at him when Felix is in his bed, eyes half-lidded as he bites at his lip. There are few things better in the world. Like Sylvain’s mouth wrapped around his cock instead.

“Later,” murmurs Felix, hooking his thumbs into his briefs and yanking them down. He leaves them hooked around an ankle, too impatient to properly kick them off.

The air in the room is cool, but his hand is hot around his cock, his fingers calloused. He’s gotten used to the way that Sylvain touches him with his smooth and devout touch. How Sylvain whispers dirty things into his ear before biting at the soft skin of it.

Felix’s dick is already leaking pathetically, dribbling precome across his palm. Felix shoves his face into the collar of Sylvain’s shirt, whining into the cotton.

It isn’t enough. Never is. No amount of practiced strokes along his length can hold a candle to the way Sylvain touches him. Or the way that Felix imagines he’s there, pressed against his back, Sylvain rutting his cock between his thighs.

“Pathetic,” says Felix as he lets go of his cock and rummages around the bed. Sylvain’s dorm has a plethora of lube stashed around-- it takes seconds to find a half-empty bottle that will suffice.

Felix slicks up his fingers, looking at them severely. “Goddess, this is really what I’ve become,” he sighs, mildly annoyed by his inability to maintain a calm composure. It used to be so easy. Felix turns over before he can stop himself, pressing his chest into the soft covers of Sylvain’s bed. Hikes up the shirt to his waist before reaching behind him and--

Sylvain walks into his dorm room, the door clicking shut quietly behind him. Doesn’t see Felix as he drops his bag to the ground. Sylvain runs a hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp before turning to his bed.

And then he sees Felix who’s prostrated on all fours, fingers slick with lube, just pressed against his hole.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” says Felix, voice slightly muffled from where his head’s turned to the side.

Sylvain’s mouth falls open as he stares. Then he regains his composure, crossing the room to kneel on the edge of the mattress. “It better be what it looks like,” he says, smoothing a hand over the soft curve of Felix’s asscheek.

Felix groans, burying his face into the blanket. He’s embarrassed, so fucking embarrassed, but it’s hard to think about it with Sylvain thumbing gently over the dip of his back, massaging the skin there.

He moves to pull his hand away, but Sylvain grabs his wrist and holds it there. “Don’t stop on my account,” he says.

Felix gawks, he can’t help it. “What?”

Sylvain looks back at him, his face endearing, but there’s an undercurrent of want there in the way that his eyes sparkle back, and how he licks his lips before answering. “You’re in my bed, Felix, touching yourself. And--” he pauses, pulling at the cotton of the oversized shirt wrapped around Felix’s frame. “Is this my shirt?”

“Yes, you idiot,” says Felix. “It certainly wasn’t the plan, I assure you. I only wanted a nap.”

Sylvain hums at that. “And what, you saw this and put it on? Thought of me and couldn’t stop yourself?”

Felix can’t refute it and feels the way that his cheeks turn pink.

“I want to watch,” says Sylvain, letting go of Felix’s wrist and turning his attention back to his ass. He squeezes at the taut muscle there before pulling apart Felix’s cheeks to look. “Want to see what you do when you’re thinking of me.”

Felix’s breath hitches at Sylvain’s tone; his voice is low and the words are fevered. Sylvain looks at him like a man ravenous. Because they both are, effectively. Touch-starved and nearly dying, bad enough for Felix to actually try and masturbate in Sylvain’s room.

But, two can play that game.

“Only if you do the same,” says Felix coolly, turning slightly to see Sylvain better. The angle is terrible and it hurts his back, but it’s worth it, to see Sylvain swallow around the lump in his throat. “Sit back in that chair and jerk yourself off to the sight of me.”

“Felix--”

“It’s only fair, I think,” says Felix. He pulls his hand back again to slick it up once more because the lube’s gone dry and tacky.

Sylvain doesn’t even hesitate. He leans forward to press a kiss against Felix’s asscheek, gets off the bed to drop his trousers, and then settles into the tiny computer chair. Sylvain rolls it into a better position, one where Felix can see him properly and he can still watch the show.

Felix’s gaze drops straight to Sylvain’s briefs. Watches the way that Sylvain casually squeezes his half-hard cock through the fabric.

It isn’t so much that he’s embarrassed to touch himself in front of Sylvain-- Goddess knows he’s done that enough. Impatient when it comes to figuring out what he likes in bed, eager to show Sylvain so he can wreck him thoroughly. Sylvain learns quickly when he’s shown exactly what to do.

It’s the idea that he was caught doing it alone that’s so awkward, that Sylvain walked in on him nearly fingers deep in his ass. Felix huffs slightly at the thought, as he circles his hole with a finger, spreading the lube around.

Too late to go back now. He’s already bargained with Sylvain, struck a deal that’s sure to please them both at least, turning a troublesome situation around. Hopefully.

And really, Sylvain looks so good, tucked into his chair, hand resting gently over the swell of his cock where it tents his briefs. Felix licks his lips and presses a finger into himself, sighing softly at the gentle sting.

He’s gotten used to it, enjoys it even. He’d enjoy it more were it Sylvain, of course. His fingers are smoother, larger, and longer. He can reach places that Felix can only dream of. And then, of course, there’s Sylvain’s cock. Pristine perfection, already hard and heavy at the mere sight of him.

Sometimes Felix wonders what he did in a past life to warrant such perfection in this age. The idea that he can call Sylvain his own, that he’s been blessed with someone that should be so far out of his reach. And the idea that Sylvain wants for him so deeply--

Well, he’s still getting used to it.

The stroke of his finger is a simple back-and-forth thing as he pulls at his rim gently, just enough to moan quietly. Sylvain watches, clutching the tip of his cock through his briefs as his other hand digs into the skin of his thigh.

Felix huffs at that. “You aren’t naked enough,” he says, a common complaint in their bedroom.

“Okay, okay,” says Sylvain with a soft chuckle. He raises his hips just enough to slide his smalls right off. Then his hand finds his dick proper, stroking it to full hardness.

Felix’s mouth goes dry at the sight, watching as Sylvain smoothes precome across the tip with his thumb. Then Sylvain decides it isn’t enough and spits into his hand instead to stroke at his cock lazily.

Sylvain’s cock needs to be in him sooner than later, thinks Felix as he pulls out his finger to press back in with two. It’s a tighter fit, his hole squeezing around them, but Felix works as methodically as he can.

Harder to do so than he’d initially thought because watching Sylvain touch himself is proving to be very distracting. Listening to Sylvain’s soft little moans as his gaze remains wholly trained on Felix and his ass, his eyes half-lidded as he bites at his lip.

“Dammit,” murmurs Felix, sighing into the blanket. Sylvain’s gaze, the soft cotton of his shirt against Felix’s skin and how the hem settles around his waist, being surrounded by the scent of sandalwood and pine in his bed-- Felix fucks into himself faster, spreading his fingers to stretch his hole wider.

A liquid moan bubbles up from his throat as his fingers brush his prostate, the touch electric as his sparks through his veins.

Sylvain notices, his mouth spreading wide into a smile. “Is it good?” he asks simply, his voice like honeyed wine. “Is that the right spot?”

“Fuck you,” says Felix, but it dissolves into a pitiful sound as his fingers press back in, hitting the same spot. “Goddess--”

Sylvain moves, the insufferable bastard that he is. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels on the corner of it, his hands immediately grabbing at Felix’s ass. Spreads Felix wide for a better look, and Felix’s hand stops.

“No,” says Sylvain, “don’t stop.”

“Sylvain--”

“Look at you.” Sylvain smoothes at the skin there, his thumb near where Felix’s fingers are knuckles deep in his own ass. “God, just the sight of you like this, it’s enough to end me. Show me more.”

That’s a new request. Usually, this kind of thing is only to show Sylvain what Felix wants and exactly how to give it to him. Sylvain’s often impatient as well, taking over when he can’t help it anymore. It’s what Felix expected this time around.

But this time, Sylvain shows no hint of hurry, sitting back as he just watches. His cock’s been left abandoned, hard and aching against his thigh, but he shows no sign of touching it. For now.

Felix gives in, scissoring his fingers wide to spread his hole. In and out as he presses them deeply. “The lube,” says Felix breathlessly. Sylvain grabs it to dribble more onto his ass. Uses his thumb to spread it around, sweeping the touch around Felix’s fingers and then down to the smooth expanse of skin above his balls to massage there.

“Shit.” Felix wants more, despite already being slightly overwhelmed. Pulls his fingers out to slick them back up in a fresh layer of the lube. Presses in one finger, then a second, and then a third, something that Sylvain’s never seen him do because Felix has never been that desperate.

In front of Sylvain, at least. Alone in his bed? Sure. But, here and now, Felix can’t help it, spurred on by Sylvain’s soft words whispered against him, and the soft touch of his hands. One pulling at Felix’s asscheek to stare, the other cradling his balls gently.

“Goddess,” curses Sylvain, watching Felix as he thrusts his fingers in and out of himself, relishing in the delicious stretch of his hole. “You--”

Sylvain doesn’t finish his sentence, the hand that’d been holding Felix’s sac dropping to grip at his cock instead. It’s hard and leaking, nearly purple at the tip because it’s been left alone for too long. Felix nearly wrenches his neck to watch as Sylvain strokes his dick, his shoulder burning with the strain of fucking himself on his fingers.

“This is what it’s like,” says Felix, “when I’m alone and lonely, trying to remember what your cock feels like. Tucked into your shirt, hot and bothered, fucking myself on my fingers like they might be enough.”

They never are.

Sylvain moves then, kneeling on the bed properly behind Felix. Grabs him by the ass as Felix removes his fingers. He immediately regrets the loss, but not the look on Sylvain’s face, the way that his throat bobs as his mouth falls open.

He thumbs at Felix’s rim. “For fuck’s sake, Felix,” he murmurs, slipping his thumb in as if to test Felix’s handiwork. Felix presses back against his hand, making his need as apparent as possible without outright begging.

Not that he’s above it.

Sylvain takes pity on him though, lining up his cock quickly and without requesting anything in return. “You ready?” asks Sylvain, smoothing a hand across the small of Felix’s back, rucking up the shirt he wears.

“Yesterday,” says Felix, raising his hips slightly. “Last fucking week.”

There’s nothing quite like Sylvain’s cock, thick and heavy as it slides home. Blazingly hot as it fills Felix to the brim. Felix keens, his voice muffled by the sheets as his back arches. Sylvain’s careful as he presses in, despite the preparation. Always reverent in the way that he touches Felix; the way that he holds him gently, the slow glide of his cock as he lets Felix adjust.

It’s too kind most of the time, offset by the way that Sylvain moans when he’s settled deep in Felix’s ass, thighs trembling with strain. “Fuck,” murmurs Sylvain as he leans over, pressing his forehead against the nape of Felix’s neck. He presses a kiss there as he tries to ground himself.

Felix has other plans, of course. “Too slow,” he says, lifting his hips to grind back against him. It’s been too long and he’s too horny for Sylvain to be so loving in a moment like this. Later, thinks Felix. Later, when they’re laying in bed, blissed out by the afterglow in their lovemaking; that’s when Sylvain can be as tender as he wants.

And maybe Felix will be too.

Sylvain lets out a punched groan, his fingers tightening around Felix’s hips, nails digging into the skin there. Sylvain might leave little bruises, soft imprints of his worship. Felix doesn’t hate the idea.

“Felix,” warns Sylvain, his voice a little bit tinny, pitched high. “I definitely won’t last if you do that.”

“Don’t care,” says Felix, rolling his hips forwards and then snapping them back. He’s on all fours, chest pressed to the bed so it isn’t the easiest, but he makes it work. Felix can feel the way that Sylvain’s dick twitches inside of him, responding eagerly to his efforts.

Sylvain gets the hint. Leans back slightly as he anchors his hold on Felix’s waist before pulling out and thrusting right back in. Hits the perfect spot with practiced ease, and Felix sees stars, moaning into the covers.

They set a steady rhythm; Sylvain fucks into him with moderate thrusts that pack power, and Felix grinds back against him, eager to get as much fiction as possible. The angle is perfect. Felix watches Sylvain from where his head’s turned to the side in the sheets; watches as Sylvain stares at how his cock slips in and out of him effortlessly.

The pressure coils deep in Felix’s gut. One hand tightens against the bedsheets as the other tightens in the collar of Sylvain’s shirt. Felix brings it closer to his face, pressing it near his nose to breathe in the scent of Sylvian’s soap. Almost perfection. Divine, really. Makes Felix think there might actually be a higher power.

“Goddess, I’ve missed this,” says Sylvain, “How you’re so perfect for me.” Polished words of praise that compliment the way that Sylvain fucks into him.

Felix whimpers slightly at them, at the way that Sylvain’s cock fills him so well, over and over again. Sweat-slicked skin, Sylvain’s hands on his ass as he spreads his cheeks wide to look, the way he thumbs around where they’re connected-- it’s nearly too much.

And still not enough.

Felix licks his hand and grabs at his cock. Jerks it roughly enough in a way that makes him clench tightly around Sylvain. The resulting moan is the stuff of dreams, the kind of thing that Felix imagines when he tips over the edge.

Sylvain does first. He fucks into Felix with deep, punctuated strokes right into the perfect spot, and the moment that Felix tightens as he touches himself, Sylvain comes. Fills him up, his hips flesh with Felix’s ass, his cock as pressed deep as it can go.

“Sylvain,” says Felix in a terse and frustrated whisper, moaning as he strokes himself furiously. The heat in his gut coils tighter and tighter, but he’s just not there yet. Close, so close, but--

Another hand joins his own, warm and wide as Sylvain bats Felix’s hand away. Sylvain leans forward, mouth near Felix’s ear. “Come on, darling,” says Sylvain, his voice low and lost to passion. His hand slides over Felix’s cock perfectly, palming over the tip.

Felix fucks into the grip, hips moving as he tries to get more. Sylvain chuckles against his neck before biting at the skin there softly. “You’re close,” he says. “I can feel it, the way you’re so tight around me.”

Of all the times for dirty talk. But it’s working. Sylvain lavishes praise in the form of words and the way that his hand is wrapped tightly around Felix’s length. He can lose himself in how Sylvain sounds so debauched, at how badly he wants Felix to come.

Still, Felix has a front to uphold. “Idiot,” he says, but it comes out more like a cursed cry, his voice keening right as Sylvain slides his cock out of his ass and slips two fingers back in instead. “Oh, oh-- Fuck--”

Sylvain’s so good with his fingers and the way that he fucks Felix with them. How he’s draped across his back, one hand on Felix’s cock and the other knuckles deep in his ass. “You took three earlier,” whispers Sylvain against his skin. “Think you can do it again?”

Three fingers aren’t nearly as big as Sylvain’s cock, but the idea of it is no less dirty, and Felix clamps tight at the thought. Sylvain slides a third finger into him, the way eased by his come. It’s salacious in the most carnal of ways, thinks Felix, and he can’t help the way that he ruts against Sylvain’s touch desperately.

He comes right after that, lost entirely to the feel of it, face red and ruddy, and slightly tear-stained as he presses it into the sheets. He lets out a string of curses when that tight coil of pleasure snaps, and Sylvain soothes him through his orgasm by praising him right through it.

Felix is left loose-legged and boneless in the aftermath. “I’m not moving,” he says, surrendering to the mattress. He’s hot and sweaty, entirely fucked out, and the shirt’s nearly too hot. Felix doesn’t give a shit. Sylvain cleans him up without complaint and then settles into the tiny twin bed beside him.

They rearrange themselves the best they can in the cramped space. Sylvain never even took his shirt off, the fabric soft underneath Felix’s cheek. He sighs content, sinking into the feel of what he’s really missed-- Sylvain by his side.

“What was that all about?” asks Sylvain, combing through Felix’s matted hair.

“Must it be about something?”

Sylvain pauses, no doubt trying to find a delicate way to say whatever he’s about it. “I don’t normally come home to find you masturbating in my bed.”

Felix scowls. “It wasn’t-- it wasn’t about something.” Felix lets loose a long breath. “I just… I missed you. And you were right, you insufferable asshole. I saw your shirt and put it on, and it only made it worse.”

Sylvain laughs, a deep rumble spreading underneath Felix’s ear. It lulls him slightly as sleep slowly tugs at him.

“I honestly, only meant to take a nap,” says Felix quietly. “I was planning on fucking you later.”

A soft kiss is pressed against Felix’s forehead, Sylvain’s lips lingering. “I love you,” he says. “Nearly as much as I love you wearing my clothing. That’s what did it for me, you know. The sight of you hot and bothered in my shirt.”

Felix grunts at that, not even bothering with a response. Sylvain’s mostly joking, of course. Felix finds that he doesn’t care. Instead, he just takes comfort in the fact that he’s been utterly smothered by the presence of Sylvain.

Perfect way to end the night, really.

#fe3h fanfic #fe3h #sylvain/felix #sylvix #felix/sylvain #felix x sylvain

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anotheronechicagobog · 4 years ago

Text

Enemies to Lovers Noah Sexton x dawson!reader

requested by: @bitweird1

written by: @anotheronechicagobog

Warnings: swearing, mature themes, child neglect, slightly Dawson bashing but they really just didn’t know, canon compliant threats

You had spent your entire life struggling and working your ass off. No social life, extracurriculars for the sole purpose of applying to universities, and spending the majority of your life studying because according to your dad at least one Dawson had to become a doctor and your older siblings had decided that it wouldn’t be them, leaving you to do nothing but prepare for the future that had been hand-picked by the man you felt abandoned you. And then Noah fucking Sexton just waltzes in having put in half the effort and riding the coattails of his much more intelligent sister who gave up a career as a doctor because of sexism. He spent far too much of his time flirting with everything that had boobs and a pulse. You didn’t like him because he took nothing seriously and didn’t have a responsible bone in his body, and he hated you because you were incredibly uptight and didn’t have a sense of humour.

“Maybe you’d have more friends here if you didn’t have a stick shoved up your ass.”

“I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to become a doctor.”

Everyone was getting really sick of your fighting, so they banded together and made things worse. They had badgered you until Doris had enough and dragged you to Molly’s. You refused to drink or eat anything, resulting in more snide remarks between you and Noah. Just when everyone was developing a migraine before they were anywhere even close to drunk your parents burst through the door and marched over to you. And suddenly, everyone in the bar, including your siblings, were subjected to and twenty-minute rant from your parents about how you should be grateful they pushed you towards medical school and all the activities that got you scholarships, that they didn’t abandon you, and that they clothed and fed you because a third child cost so much money, how you never took anything seriously and were always joking around, and how you were a disgrace to the family. Once they finished, your dad dragged you out by your arm, your mom followed muttering about why couldn’t you be more like Gabby and Antonio.

You walked into the ED the next day as robotic as ever. The pitiful and awkward stares were ignored with ease, it was something you were quite used to if you were honest. Your parents were always scrutinized by your teachers and DCFS. At the end of the day, though, they weren’t abusive enough for any charges or housing changes to be set. They weren’t like that with Gabby and Antonio, who had mostly moved out by the time you were in kindergarden, you were their last chance to help them prove to their family that they didn’t fail as parents. And they made sure you knew it.

“Dr. Dawson, you’ve got a patient in treatment one. Also, uh, are you okay? I feel pretty bad about last night.”

“Oh, don’t worry about anything. I’m fine, and my parents were right I should’ve been studying. It was a poor decision on my part not to. I’m gonna get to this patient, but you really don’t need to feel bad, okay?”

She nodded absently as you turned your back to her. ”Hi, I'm Dr. Dawson, can you tell me what brought you in today?”

---------------------------------

Your patient had just gone up to the OR to have a blood clot removed and you made your way to the doctor’s lounge, followed by Noah Sexton. ”Hey, Y/N, are you-”

”Yes, Noah, I am okay. Yes, I'm sure. I am fine, I am always fine.”

”From my experience when people say they're fine they're usually not.”

”Noah, I am okay.”

“I don’t believe you.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next few weeks were a maze of pitiful stares, hushed concerned words, and a silent Noah. All of it was completely unnerving. It all came to a head when Dr. Charles approached in the ED you about starting therapy with him, talking continuously about all the points ‘brought to his attention’, not even giving you the time to tell him the majority were false. “Excuse me?”

Your stomach coiled in anger at his words. Not only were you more than capable of doing your job, but you already had a therapist. With basket case parents like yours, it was blatantly obvious that therapy was required. But the audacity of your co-workers to gossip so much that it came to the point over half the points Charles brought up were complete BS was astounding. Not only that, but he’d apparently spent the last few days internet stalking you to try and find some of your demons. “Dr. Charles, do you consider me a danger or liability to any of the patients or doctors at this hospital because of my relationship with my parents?”

“No, you actually seem to be well balanced mentally.”

“Then what, on earth, made you think it was appropriate to go around behind my back asking everyone at the hospital their opinion about me and what happened at Molly’s, or stalk me online to try and get a read on me, and then ask me blatantly at work, in the middle of the shift, in front of all my co-workers and superiors? What made you think it was okay to loudly bombard me with rumours and hearsay while I’m working?”

“Well, I thought that since it’s my job to check on all the ED docs, I’d check on you.”

“... You’re joking, right? I am the only person in this department who goes to therapy. Don’t kid yourself, you don’t check on anyone here. You judge them and make sure they know it. And quite honestly, you don’t have the best reputation for looking out for the mental and emotional state of your colleagues. This confrontation was not only completely inappropriate, but rude, obnoxious, presumptuous, riddled with unchecked errors, and unprofessional.”

“That’s not how I would word it.”

“It’s how I see it, and how I’ll word it with HR.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

No one was pitying you anymore, not since the tongue lashing you gave Dr. Charles, who was on very thin ice with the hospital. While bringing up Robin and Sarah may have been a bit of a low blow, it exposed some issues with Dr. Charles that needed to be addressed. The only person who acted as if you were made of glass was Noah Sexton. While he had been a bit of a pain in the ass, this was worse. He was being sickeningly nice to you and it was getting on your last nerve. Yes, your parents were abusive. Yes, you had a messed up and traumatic childhood. But did that limit your abilities? No. Did that make you mentally unstable requiring therapy and fragility from your coworkers? Absolutely not.

He came in with coffee exactly the way you liked it, again. With a muffin, again. “You have to stop.”

“Stop what, Y/N?”

“Stop acting weird. You don’t like me, you hate me, actually. The only reason you’re being nice to me is because my parents resent my existence. I do not need or want your pity. So stop treating me like a china doll, and start treating me like your coworker.”

“Okay, okay, I uh... I’m sorry. I just, I feel guilty, okay? I gave you such a hard time for being so frigid and then when your parents showed up at Molly’s and started screaming at you for existing and having a life of your own, it just all made sense. And I gave you shit and trouble for coping with your crazy-ass parents. And then Dr. Charles came by to talk to you and I just felt even worse because even though I didn’t tell him anything, it was our fighting that put the spotlight on you in the first place. You shouldn’t have had your dirty laundry aired to the entire hospital, that’s happened to me a few times and it’s horrible, and I feel bad because I know that I was a contributing factor to all the shit you’ve had to deal with at work.”

“I get where you’re coming from, but let’s be real, everything would’ve turned out exactly the same way if you weren’t involved. The gossip mill runs strong at Gaffney.”

“Yeah, it does. I still feel bad.”

“Well, you’re forgiven then. So you can stop treading delicately, buying me coffee, and being creepily nice to me.”

“I am not being ‘creepily nice’! And how can being nice be creepy anyway?”

“Yesterday you followed me around offering to help me take my gloves on and off constantly, to the point where a patient who came in for falling out of the ceiling above the women’s changeroom said ‘that’s just weird’.”

“... Okay. I’ll stop. But I gotta be honest, I don’t think I can go back to arguing with you all the time.”

“That’s fine, just stop acting so weird that a couple I caught having kinky sex after an STD swab said ‘that made us really uncomfortable’.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. Seriously, you didn’t have to tell me twice.”

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SIX MONTHS LATER

You and Noah had actually managed to become good friends and roommates. Shortly after he started acting like a normal person around you, not an instigator or a psycho, you found yourself enjoying his company. And yesterday, when you’d come home to find your room completely torn apart by your mother because your father had tried to frame you for using weed, you were done. Most of what you owned had been destroyed in your mother’s search, which sucked, but it made packing up all your stuff into your car much easier.

So far you’d ignored 43 texts, 12 calls, two visits from Gabby when she brought in a patient, and one visit from Antonio who didn’t even bother trying to lie to you. He also threatened to impound your car, you threatened to tell Voight about the time he and Lindsay got drunk and hooked up. It didn’t even matter that she was in New York now, Voight wouldn’t even blink before bludgeoning him down. He swore at you, “how could you break mami’s heart like this?”, and “can’t you just behave and do what you’re told for once?”

You looked him dead in the eyes, heart beating erratically at you older brother supporting your parents belittling and abusing you, “You sound like dad Antonio.”, watched his face fall, and left. Noah stopped him when he went to follow you. “You good?”

“Uh, not really. I don’t have a place to go tonight.”

“Did your mom kick you out?”

“No, I left. I can’t do it anymore. I break out in hives whenever I even think about my mother now. I just can’t go back.”

“Well, you don’t have to. I have been looking for a roommate, we can move you into my place after shift.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Now come on, it’s prank week. Stohl pissed off Manning last week and she’s been planning revenge ever since, you do not want to miss this.”

And you didn’t. You entered the ED to find one of the most hated doctors in med spitting out Gatorade. “WHaT thE heLL?! That was sooo-ughghghg-” he couldn’t even finish his sentence before running to the doctor’s lounge to throw up in the bathroom. To Natalie’s credit, she didn’t crack a smile or react at all as she gracefully stepped over the spilled orange Gatorade. She briefly reminded you of a fae, graceful, beautiful, and cunning as all hell. You made a mental note never to cross her. Later at lunch, Natalie opened her sushi container, slightly deconstructed each piece, loaded all the pieces up with wasabi, reconstructed them, and popped one in her mouth. Everyone sitting near her had their eyes flash in recognition. Stohl had a habit of stealing other people’s food, and no matter how many times anyone told him to stop, they were just bullied into compliance. As a result, everyone had to dictate their food choices around his palette. Which meant no spicy food. Something that sucked for nearly everyone because hot food was a favourite for most people in the ED. But Manning wasn’t taking his shit. Not today. Something that worried everyone sitting around her because she would get in trouble for eating her own food how she liked it. It wasn’t until one of the HR workers, Holly, sat down beside Natalie and engaged in conversation that everyone realized the full scope of her plans. Stohl plopped down beside you and stole half of your sandwich right out of your hand. Ranting and raving, insulting everyone, stealing food, he made his way all around the circular cafeteria table until he got to Nat. He scooped up to pieces and threw them in his mouth just after he finished the words ‘insolent underlings’. Everyone held their breath as they watched his pale face redden exponentially. His eyes widened. And then he screamed.

He yelled, he swore. “I’m going to report you to HR! You tried to poison me!”

“You stole food from everyone, something inappropriate, unethical, and unprofessional. You stole her food. That she made spicy to her tastes. She didn’t try to poison you.”

“And just who the fuck do you think you are?!”

“Holly Scott, from HR.”

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You and Noah were doing great, as roommates and as friends. “Hey, do you have any plans for dinner tonight? My parents invited me over for dinner and they asked me to extend an invite to you. It’s nothing major, they wanted to meet my previous roommates, too. Make sure you’re not a hooligan.”

“Okay, sounds fun. What should I bring?”

“Yourself...?”

“It’s rude to show up at someone else’s home without a gift.”

“You don’t need to bring my parents a gift.”

“Oh, I’m bringing a gift. I’m just asking you for some input.”

“Okay, well they really like wheelie shoes-”

“Ha, oh my god, I meant for what your parents would like, not you. And want wheelie shoes? Those have been out for a while, Noah.”

“Hey, do not laugh at me! They are just a very effective and fun way to get around.”

“Would you like them to light up too?”

“... Is that an option?”

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You knocked on the door while Noah rolled his eyes at you. “I grew up here!”

“Well you don’t live here anymore and it’s rude to just barge into someone’s home and act like you own the place.”

“Oh, you must be Y/N! I wasn’t expecting anyone to knock, usually, Noah just barges in and acts like he owns the place. Come in, come in. It’s freezing outside.” You gave Noah a side-eyed smirk as you took off your coat, while he looked bashfully embarrassed. “Uh, here Ms. Sexton, I brought some homemade empanadas, they can be put in the fridge or kept in the freezer, and it’s best to reheat them in the oven. 350 F, ten minutes from the fridge and about 20 if they were put in the freezer.”

“Oh, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“I was raised that when you go over to someone’s house for dinner or an event, you bring a gift. And it was either this or a house plant.”

“Ha, good idea going with the food, it’s a Sexton family trait that will kill all the plants we touch. Thank you very much.”

“Hello, you must be Y/N. It;s wonderful to meet you- and what smells so good?”

“Y/N brought empanadas, and they are going away so that you and I can enjoy them later. Now everyone, to the dining room, dinner is just about done.”

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Things started to change a bit a few months later when Choi had to physically restrain Noah from attacking a drunk bar fight patient who called you a slut in the middle of the ED. You’d been confused but Maggie just kept saying that it was a matter of time.

When you’d been hanging around at Molly’s with Noah, Sarah, and Darren, Noah had his arm casually wrapped around your shoulders, something your sister gave you the eyebrow for from her place at the bar.

After you’d been mugged and beaten, you’d run to the 21st, where your brother promptly unleashed the most fearsome demon hell has ever cowered from, AKA Hank Voight, he also called Noah. And when your brother finally made an arrest and got Voight to calm down a little, he’d entered the breakroom to find you fast asleep, curled up against Noah. Who sat in an incredibly uncomfortable position, holding you and stroking your back. You missed the dark look that crossed his face, or the one of fear that had crossed Noah’s but something of an understanding had fallen to Noah. The two of you needed to talk.

So you did, and it went well, so well that you planned a date. Then another one. And another one, until you two had been dating for six months and figured it was time to tell your families. You were shaking in your boots, the Sexton’s were all incredibly close and incredibly doting on Noah, so even though they liked you, you had absolutely no clue as to what the reaction would be. To your relief, it was happiness, they loved you as much as Noah apparently, and they relished in the changed you’d caused in Noah.

Your family, on the other hand, did not react well. Which was why you’d made sure that you told them in a very public place, and had only ordered waters before you told them. There was yelling, screaming, your father waving his arms around so much Antonio had to use his cop voice on him. In the end, you and Noah had been there for around five minutes before throwing some cash at the waitress as a tip for leaving her with your family, and hauling ass out of there. The two of you had ended up just eating pizza on the boardwalk in your fancy clothes and heading back to the apartment late.You both had work the next day, but while you were an intern, Noah was not. And while you were off giving a patient a sponge bath, your siblings cornered Noah at the nurses desk. “Sexton, is there a place the three of us can talk?”

“Uh, sure, this conference room is free...”

“Perfect.”

“So, I take it this is about-”

“Nuh-uh. You do not talk. We do.”

“You are dating our baby sister.”

“We may not be as close to her as you are with your sister, but she still means a lot to us.”

“We love her. We are two people with some pretty dangerous skills. It is for these two reasons that you will not hurt her. Ever.”

“And if you do, don’t forget who I work with.”

“No one will ever find your body.”

“Are we clear?”

“Uh, hmmh... Clear. Crystal clear.”

“Good. Now do you know where Y/N is? We’d like to take the both of you out to lunch or something, just the four of us, to make up for the dinner of many disasters.”

#One Chicago #chicago med #Chicago Fire #Chicago PD #noah sexton #noah sexton x reader #antonio dawson #gabby dawson #maggie lockwood

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bubbashawn · 5 years ago

Text

High School Musical

author: This is really not that great but I wanted to share a little something so here it is.

synopsis: Quarantine is upon you but you don’t know where to stay until a friend sets you up with Shawn Mendes himself.

warnings: it’s 1.9k of really bad writing. I’m sorry. Better news is I’m almost 3k into Fine Line part 1 and 800 into Vanity Fair part 2. Hope y’all have a little bit of a Shawn fill from this 😂 mention of anxiety and a corny pickup line.

“You know the university isn’t gonna be open for too much longer right?”

You love your best friend. Really, you do. But if Maddie mentioned the fact that you could be homeless soon, you might strangle her. The news was a constant reminder saying how colleges and schools across the world were being closed and everyone is expected to self quarantine.

You might be a bit dramatic in saying that you’d be homeless but after your mother kicked you out after you told her you’d be going to Toronto on a scholarship for literature and not her alma mater Cornell Law like she had planned, the idea of returning to your little boring hometown wasn’t an option.

“Tell me again why I can’t come stay with you?”

“You know I don’t have space plus my family can barely support itself much less another person.”

“I don’t need support financially, I just need shelter.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” she sighed at your crestfallen expression, “ask Brian?”

“He’s quarantining with his girlfriend in Los Angeles, they left a couple days ago.”

“He has hot friends, right?”

You started to ignore her as the ringing in your head increased. The headache of trying to find shelter caused so much stress and anxiety. You didn’t even notice the two of you were outside your room’s door until Maddie’s arms were wrapped around you. Whispering words of comfort.

“Give Brian a call,” she gave you a pointed look, “he grew up not far from here, so he probably has some half decent friend who’ll take you in.”

“I hate this.”

“I know, me too. I love you alright? Call Brian!”

She walked away offering one last squeeze on your shoulder before heading towards her room down the hall.

You groaned before opening the door in front of you. It’s not that you hate your roommates, it's just they can get loud and the pounding pain in your temple wasn’t going to ease off with all the noise. Grabbing your chunky knit blanket before smiling softly at the two girls partying in your room, you headed to the common room.

The space was awkwardly set up and left little room to stand when more than ten people were there but it was well past nine when you got there and no one seemed to be bothered to leave their rooms. You settled into the ugly green couch because it was by far the comfiest and pulled out your phone.

You hadn’t noticed how late it had really gotten until the soft glow of the sunset was gone and your face was illuminated by your phone screen.

Your phone ringer was going off with notifications. You ignored the texts from both Brian and Maddie to focus on the email quickly swiping your device open pausing the music immediately.

“Dear students and their families,” here it was, the from line reading University of Toronto, “We regret to inform you,” you could barely mumble the words much less read your eyes were watering too much. Everything was too blurry, “we regret to inform you that as of today March 13, 2020, all classes are canceled until further notice due to the virus…” your voice cut out while your eyes rescanned the email for key pieces you had missed. Canceled classes. Pack your things. Move out.

Everything was crashing and you huddled further into the armrest of the banged-up furniture you were sitting on.

“Fuck,” your phone was ringing again but you ignored whoever was calling you, too distracted by your breath closing in and the eerie question you couldn’t answer. What were you going to do?

You were freaked out, clutching your hand to your stomach trying to feel the rise and fall of your breath. Your eyes desperately opening and closing. What were you going to do?

“Shit,” your hand finding your phone when it started buzzing again and again, you threw it onto the ground, curling into yourself.

The panic had subsided barely when you realized your poor old phone was probably cracked if not broken from your frenzied tantrum. Your shaking hand grabbing it to assess the damage done.

“Fuck,” seeing multiple missed calls from friends, all aware of your situation, “fuck, fuck.”

You hesitantly answered when Brian tried you again.

“Y/N? You okay?”

“B-Brian? What am I, oh god, what am I going to do?”

“Hey, take a breath yeah?”

“Brian, I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Yeah, that’s why I called,” he smiled softly when your breath started evening out, “I’ve got this friend who’ll probably go mad if he’s alone during quarantine. He gets in his head and stuff. He’s not some serial killer and is one of the nicest, genuine people I know. You might end up in Pickering, y’know where I grew up? But he’d be happy to let you stay.”

“I feel like I’d be imposing.”

“Don’t worry. He probably needs this more than you, believe me or not.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled when you sniffled, “I’ll give him a call, eh? Hold tight.”

Brian hung up.

To say you knew you’d end up outside an apartment building in downtown Toronto, you’d be lying. You had just slid out of the cab and found yourself enjoying the distant sight of the CN Tower praying that Brian’s friend had a decent view. More so that this friend wouldn’t kill you. As you moved closer to the doors, the glass showed a simplistic yet expensive interior and that was only the lobby.

The elevator had mirrors and the halls were so clean you’d probably be fine living in the hallway instead of the condo on the other side of the door you were staring at. Everything will be fine.

You knocked.

“Just a minute!” The shout was muffled from inside the room.

The door swung open not a moment later to reveal a young and astoundingly attractive male staring down at you. His curls were looped around his fingers when his hand brushed through his hair, a silver ring reflecting a flash of light. You took in his soft eyes, a scar on the apple of his cheek, his pillowy looking lips. In sweatpants and a knitted sweater he looked like pure heaven. You recognized him, of course you had, Shawn Mendes was not one to glance over even for an overworked student.

“Hi honey,” he looked down at you, “how did you get through? I thought the security was keeping out fans, it’s really not okay for you to be here.”

“Oh, um no. The security was very prompt so you shouldn’t run into any problems. And I’m not a fan, well I-I mean I am but that’s not why I’m here. Brian said you were expecting me? I have a keycard to your apartment which is how I got through the lobby. I didn’t want to just intrude by walking in though, I, um, I can come back later or call Brian for a different arrangement.”

“No,” he was smiling sheepishly, “no, sorry. You’re Y/N, right? Sorry I wasn’t thinking.”

You smiled and bit your nail shyly when he opened his door to let you into the spacious living room.

“I’m Shawn, by the way, and sorry for being an ass back there. We’ve had some run-ins with fans because of security issues the past few months so I was being cautious. Not that that’s an excuse or anything.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he was staring down at you, “really it’s okay. I should’ve had Brian let you know of my arrival or something. Honestly I didn’t know you were, well you…” you trailed off not knowing where that sentence was going.

Your eyes continued flitting back and forth between his enjoying the crinkles of smile lines you couldn’t see through a screen. You were so focused on the giant in front of you that your gaze almost missed the open floor to ceiling windows.

He definitely had a view.

You felt his eyes follow you when your figure shifted past him to stand closer to the sight of the city.

“Like the view?”

Your eyes snapped back onto him startled by his presence standing mere feet away. You smiled softly.

“It’s insane.”

“Yeah it’s the best view I’ve ever had. Especially right now.”

His eyes were on you but you let his stupid cliche and corny joke just giggling at his antics before turning back to his window.

It was in the early hours of the morning when Shawn started apologizing. Again.

“I’m so sorry. I feel so bad about earlier and you’re absolutely the sweetest person. I should’ve known and thought about the situation before jumping to conclusions. I swear my ego hasn’t gotten to my head that bad.”

“You need to stop apologizing,” he chuckled with you, “seriously it’s okay. And you’ve been nothing but kind to me since I’ve been here. I mean housewarming muffins? That’s the best. Plus I’m staying here with you so really I should be thanking you not listening to you say sorry.”

“It wasn’t okay for me to assume anything. Also brave of you to think the muffins were for you!”

“I’m enjoying them nonetheless,” he was smiling at you again, “stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Smiling at me like that!”

“Like what?” He was chuckling again, “like what, Y/N?”

“Like that. You’re making me nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because you're way too kind and not hard to look at, I’m bound to be flustered by you.”

He just kept smiling down at you, his head tipping closer to your own. Jerk.

“I like making you blush.”

“You’re good at it. I barely know you and I’m probably in love with you.”

His head tilted back when he broke out in laughter exposing a perfect neck. He was literally perfect. The definition of perfection.

“You’re not,” his smile was full of mischief, “but I’ll get you to love me by the end of this.”

You leaned in your head enjoying how his breath hitched at your close proximity because he might affect you but you affected him just as much.

“Is that a bet?”

“Nope. A promise.”

He pressed his pillowy soft pink lips against the corner of your lips and enjoyed the taste of your coconut lip scrub that was now in his bathroom. He felt giddy.

“What will happen after quarantine?”

“You’ll move the rest of your stuff in, duh.”

He was being sassy.

“Mmhmm? And when will I meet the family?”

“I was thinking we could go there in a couple of days? I want to spend some time with them.”

“Wait really?”

“Yeah, I want to see them before we really hunker down. Is that okay with you?”

You smiled putting your arms around his neck the two of you far more comfortable in each other's presence than expected.

“Sounds good.”

“Ok,” he pressed his nose to yours lightly eyes gleaming in excitement, ecstatic at the idea of telling his family about the awesome girl in front of him “we’ll just stand six feet away.”

You both chuckled.

“Like we’re doing right now?”

“Baby, we’re in this together.”

“Yeah? Like High School Musical?”

“I’ll be your Troy.”

“You’re more of a Ricky.”

He gave you a look. Shawn’s ringlet curl flopping onto his forehead. Definitely a Ricky Bowen.

“I’m serious, we’re in this together.”

“I’m okay with that.”

And you were being truthful. You knew this situation was bringing you two closer much faster than normal but you hadn’t felt this safe in so long. Shawn was a stranger just hours ago but now he was already affecting your heart. You could see yourself falling in love with him by the end of all this. He might just keep his promise.

permanent taglist: @wholesomemendes @fallinallincurls @ashwarren32 @mendesficsxbombay @haute-shawn @turtoix @prncsnee @http-isabela

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