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writings-by-blondie · 4 years ago

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~If The Stars Could Speak~

Soap Mactavish x F!Reader (teaspoon of Angst)

She was way too good for him and he knew that yet he couldn't forget the way her (h/c) hair fell over her shoulders, her laugh and a bit cold, but glittery look of her (e/c) eyes when their gaze met for the first time..it was like he could see universe in them.

He was in cold, gloomy, Russia, on a mission that was to be last, scribbling down words on the peace of paper, counting down hours till he get to hold her forever...

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His most trusting man, and friend, Simon and him decided to lay back and enjoy some free time they were granted away from their ever noisy and ever busy camp.

They were at downtown, walking and talking about how tonight is their night - they will leave job at office and they will just enjoy strong alcohol and good music.

The night was a bit chilly, but nothing unusual for the late September.

That just meant that John will finally have chance to wear that nice black spitfire jacket he bought not long ago, and he looked well in it.

As the two men walked they spotted the bar they wanted to be in for the rest of the night, right outside of it, sticking out like a sore thumb was parked some expensive car that John didn't know how to indenify as. He wasn't a big car head like his friend.

"Look at this mate. Its Porsche, bet some meat heads are in this place",

said Simon chucking and eyeing the car and tilting his head slowly towards the bar.

Mactavish smirked and pushed his friend gently as he started walking in, "You have a problem with that or you're just scared of guys who drive expensive cars, eh?".

Inside of the bar you and small group of your friends were in VIP lounge. Infront of you, on small glass table was a bucket filled with ice that kept some red bulls and couple of Baltica beers cold.

You were drinking Jack Daniels, your glass half full. Being tipsy already, you fake-laughed at some perverse joke friend next to you finished telling.

Tonight, you really felt down. Truth to be told, you've been feeling under the weather last couple of months, nothing seemed to go the right way and nothing you did could change that feeling. On top of that your stupid poosh boyfriend broke up with you over text last week, and even though you understood that your friends cared for you and wanted you to forget about that fool and enjoy yourself, you still couldn't shake away the bitterness and just wanted to curl away in your bed, eat some strawberry ice cream and watch ‘Casablanca’.

But here you were, in a black dress that glittered under the light, your hair styled in lazy but not messy curls, and your over-expensive white heels. You looked like the IT girl that every man would want for them selves, to put you on pedestal and admire you.

(Y/n) leaned back in the black leather seat before she took a deep sigh that was followed by pouting and throwing down rest of the Jack that was in her glass down her throat. It burned for a bit, but the sweet flavour of alcohol made her want to drink more, so she opened the half empty bottle and poured more of the honey-coloured liquid into her glass.

She leaned in close to her friend on the left and whispered,

"I need to go and check my make up. Save a seat for me, and dont touch my bottle, I will know if you do.",

you almost groaned last words since you knew well that your friends loved to mess with you.

The (h/c) girl now stood up, taking her light coloured purse that matched with her heels, in her hands and started walking towards the washroom of the bar.

The floor was wooden, hard wood, after all the bar was made to accommodate high class people and to draw in tourists who had a lot of money to spend. Her heels making a little bit noise as her steps collided with the floor. It was a southing sound, like when rain hits the metal.

Her hips swayed as her dress didn't quite hug her whole neatly shaped figure, so it swayed with her movements, glittering under the dim light of the noisy bar.

She had to watch every step since she felt that the alcohol was indeed kicking in, but the song playing on stereos drew her attention and just for a tiny moment she forgot completely that she had heels on.

"Shit-", you muttered loudly as your purse left your hands and you could see the dark wooden floor getting close to you now, but you weren't colliding with it, instead you felt stern grip on your waist, feeling the coldness of someones hand that went straight to your skin, under the dress. You furrowed eyebrows before looking up, facing a, without any exaggeration, handsomest man you ever laid eyes upon.

His eyes, blue as the sea in mid July in the noon, almost glittering like a waves when they shine under the hot sun. His smell now invaded your nostrils touching your senses, stimulating them, wanting more of it. It was pine mixed with old brand of ‘denim’, manly but still subtle, just enough.

He smiled at you softly looking into your eyes, not breaking eye contact once.

"Careful now lass, we don’t want any broken bones yet, the night is still young eh?..", he spoke with thick and extremely attractive (for some reason) Scottish accent and she took deep breath in, as the man slowly placed the girl in front of him back on her legs, parting his hand with her waist. The girl licked her lover lip, realizing now that she was blushing way more than it was appropriate for this kind of situation and softly muttered, "Sorry.. The heels..", under her breath before she walked pass the man and disappeared into woman's washroom.

Mactavish however trailed her with his eyes, her long and subtly toned legs, and the way the subtle cutout on her dress reviled a bit of her thigh. She was clearly in distress and he couldn't help but chuckle a bit to himself as he picked up her purse from the floor and sat down in the nearby booth with Simon.

"What the hell was that?", Riley said as he took off his black leather jacket, placing it next to him.

"It was like some scene out of those old movies mate. Its like, in that one moment, universe existed to put us together.", John smiled to himself, also placing his jacket next to him, being a bit surprised at his own words, he wasn't cheesy, but romantic? He was that.

And he would never let any of his friends know that since well, it was an army and he didn't need Ghost going around the base telling everyone that their captain was softie.

"Since when are you that cheeky eh? Maybe Price doesn't make you do enough pushups at morning." Simon smirked at his friend and raised his hand to call the bartender,

"Its a quote, some of us are literate cinema vise mate", Mactavish smirked back at him leaning over the table, trying to reach for his cigars in his back pocket, "But she is bonnie, nonetheless.".

In washroom you tried to steady your breathing. You put your hand on your chest and closed eyes, but the only thing you could see was the man's eyes and his face. Girl quickly opened her eyes and looked at her reflection in big mirror that was placed on black and white tiles. (Y/n) looked at her face, noticing few spots where her make up was messed up, she pouted a bit and reached down on the sink for her purse, but her palm was met only with cold marble sink.

You quickly shot your gaze towards your hand, with your eyebrows furrowed. Eyes darting across the sink, around it and eventually around the whole washroom then the realisation hit you like a heavy boulder- you dropped your purse when you tripped, when he grabbed you.

"For fucks sake..", you muttered under the breath. It was enough humiliating that probably whole bar watched you stumble around like a new born deer and almost kiss the floor, but now you had to go retrieve your purse that was probably still on the ground and go back to washroom again looking like a lost highschool girl on the party.

You shook your head and realised that stupid anxiety attack got your judgment clouded- people fall every day, and they drop stuff everyday too.

The girl now straighten her posture, fixed her hair a bit and opened the door, exiting the cool room she was in before heading to the booth were she dropped her purse, but to her surprise the purse was not on the floor instead she heard familiar thick accent from the booth next to where she was standing,

"Looking for this lass?", the man waved with her purse smiling at her with one of his brows raised, his friend watching her, waiting for her next move.

You swallowed a big gulp, approaching the booth were the men were sitting slowly, taking your purse from the blue eyed man,

"Yes, thank you. Saving me from embarrassment.. Very noble of you.", you said with a now confident voice, not breaking eye contact with him. There was something about him, something unexplainable. It was like that with every second she looked at his face, at his slightly parted lips as a little smile formed on his face, you were losing grip on the time it was like a whole universe worked for you and him.

"Glad I could help ma'am. Those shoes do look dangerous, better watch your step.", the man spoke and she smiled at him, shyly nodding and turning around, breaking the eye contact with him, slowly walking towards her own booth where her friends were loud and drunk.

But every step you took was heavier than the last one, you didn't want to go there, you wanted to sit with him, smell that invading pine again, feel his touch again.. Was this alcohol that was in your bloodstream?

You stopped suddenly and took a deep breath, before turning on your heels and going back to the two man who were now smoking, their drinks were on their table as well.

"Oh screw it. Universe, dont make a fool out of me!", you thought internally as you approached back their booth, and both men looked up at you again.

"Do you need some help lassie? Are you feeling well?", the blue eyed man asked. You actually just now noticed that he had his hair styled as a mohawk and it suited him so nice, the scar over his eye stuck out as well.

You snapped out and shook your head in denial,

"Would you mind if I joined you for a drink?",

Ghost cleared his throat and looked away with a huge smirk over his face, avoiding John’s stern look. Mactavish moved himself to the left, leaving vacant place for the girl to sit and nodded his head down while putting out cigar that was already burned.

You sat next to him, smiling and biting inside of your cheek, leaving your purse on the edge of the table waving to the bartender to get his attention, you showed him universal sign for ‘another bottle’ and the man nod to you.

You returned your attention towards two men who were gazing at you the whole time.

"So, who wishes to start this AA meeting? How about you sir?", you pointed at men across from you. Both men cracked at your joke before the one you pointed at started talking,

"Name's Simon, that’s Soap- I mean John..", Simon barely held in his laugh looking away from the pair. You looked at men next to you and his jaw was clenched, he obviously didn't like that one.

"Y/N, nice to meet you fellas. This night needed some life in it. I was dying of boredom over at VIP's. Some fresh environment is nice..",

you smiled at John who was downing his beer, slowly he nod at the girl and the bartender finally came with your new bottle of Jack and three glasses for each of you.

"Put it on my bill, thanks.", you said and John eyed you as you opened the bottle of whiskey and poured everyone about a half of the glass, raising your own towards him as you finished. You smirked a bit, leaning towards him, unintentionally, your thigh subtly brushed against his light blue denim jeans.

"Cheers to not breaking bones and to concerned strangers.”, you said the words, slowly looking up at his eyes yet again.

John looked down at you, slowly colliding his glass with yours.

"Well, cheers to me I guess..", Simon muttered to himself and downed down the glass. You couldn't help but laugh sincerely, John joining you while rolling his eyes at Simon,

"Ghost getting ghosted, this will be the story to tell the mates back at camp for sure..".

You raised your eyebrow in confusion, leaving your glass on the table and crossing your legs, leaning back,

"Camp? What are you two like some secret agents or something?", you asked and John and Simon talked to you about their job deep into night. They explained their line or work as subtle as they could and shared some of the funniest moments from their missions with you.

John enjoyed your laugh, the way you blushed when you caught him looking at you, avoiding his gaze, how well your lips were glossed and your perfume that made him want to invade your neck and collarbone with small and soft kisses. He also noticed how soft your skin was when he "accidentally" touched your hand as you were reaching for the bottle, wanting to pour another drink.

It was about 3 in the morning when you turned around towards the bartender who was next to you, telling you and your new friends that the bar is closing in about five minutes. Your friends left long time ago, too drunk to even notice that you were gone or that you were now sitting elsewhere.

"Oh come on Gorge! Cant you see how much fun we are having here? Can’t you just lock us in or join us?", you blinked innocently at the bartender and it made man blush, ofcourse that didn't go unnoticed by Mactavish who cleared his throat subtly and put his hand around your shoulder. You turned your head, raising eyebrow at him and questioning what the hell he was doing.

"Come on lass, man has a job to do, a boss to answer to. We will get you to your hotel eh?", you chuckled at him, now relaxing into his touch, and he loved it. He softly rubbed exposed skin on your shoulder with his thumb and you inhaled sharply, smiling at him reaching for your purse and pulling out keys from your car,

"I drank a lot.. Who is driving lads?",

You closed the door of your Porsche and could hear Simon in the back seat whistle,

"It even has leather inside and tv in the back of the seat. Of course it does.. For gods sake (y/n), you could've just told us that you are rich. We would've distanced from you.", Riley made a joke and you laughed, turning around in your seat looking at Simon, as John started the car, slowly advancing towards the main street.

"I wouldn't trade time I had with you boys for nothing in this world. I haven't laughed like that in ages..",

Riley now looked at Mactavish on review mirror smirking,

"Soap, drop me off first and then take (y/n) back to her place. Base is just around the corner it will save her some gas.".

You eyed man who was driving now, waiting for his response, he groaned in response then he nodded slowly looking at you, before returning eyes to the road that was empty. The city was in deep sleep.

John parked infront of some old looking house and Simon chuckled, "Well this is my stop. I'll see ya in the morning mate, don't forget to freshen up, we will need you frosty eh?",

Simon said before he slammed the doors shut and swiftly disappeared into the house.

You looked at John and pouted a bit, he looked and you and wiggled his eyebrows playfully,

"Where to miss?", he put up his best British accent and you couldn't help but laugh at how silly he sounded.

"With you? To the stars.." you leaned on his shoulder and kicked down your heels, tucking your legs under your tights.

Mactavish took a deep breath, inhaling the sent of your perfume, before he started driving again, he reached for the radio and turned it on.

A soft tune of "Midnight" song was on it and you hummed in approval.

"You know, I feel like I should've met you long ago instead of wasting my time around, not knowing where am I going, what am I doing. I wish this night could last forever John, I wish I could be stuck in it forever.."

The man smiled and reached for one of your hands, locking his fingers with your smaller ones, his eyes never leaving the road.

"I want to show you one place, if you are not up for sleep yet lassie?"

You parted your head with his shoulder to look up at him, his face being illuminated by dim street lights, he looked so soft and like he didn't have any worry in the world.

"Aye sir, I am in your hands for the rest of this trip." you joked and he let out a huffed laugh, bringing your hand closer to his lips, kissing your knuckles, you watched him carefully, biting your lower lip as you felt the warmth spread throughout your entire body from just that tiny exchange of affection.

John parked the car, pulled the break and turned the machine off. He leaned back in the leather seat and looked at you, smile creeping around the corners of his mouth.

"Take my jacket, it can be windy up here."

He said and reached in the back seat for his jacket, handing it to you. You took it into your hands and looked around you, it was quiet and dark all around. Not single lamp post or anything was in the vicinity, only the headlights that John left on, and the soft tune of radio that still played.

"There is nothing here, and honestly it feels like a horror movie. Am I about to be murdured and thrown from this cliff John?"

Mactavish just chuckled and opened the car doors on his side,

"Do you trust me lass?", he asked as he leaned on the car roof, peeking inside and looking at you.

"Do I trust man I just met in local bar to exit my car, my only way of escaping, and obey him to walk into my own funeral? Sure yeah, here I come.." you said with playful tone as you stepped out of your car, flinging his black jacket over your shoulders and sliding your arms into it. It smelled like him and you buried your nose into the collar of jacket, closing your eyes and getting lost in the man's perfume mixed with aftershave. You were about to close the doors of the car when John cut you off,

"Don't close the doors, we won't be able to hear the music".

He was now behind you, towering over your smaller frame and your heart skipped the beat as you turned around to face him.

He slowly reached for your hips and without any hesitation or struggle, swayed you off your bare feet and lifted you up. You instinctively warped your arms around his neck smiling at him.

"You need to stop watching that many horror movies, they will rot your pretty brain"

He smiled at you with his eyes, looking down at your parted lips. Your face being right infront of his, possibly few inches away since he could feel your breath on his skin, and you could feel his. Blush creeped around your cheeks and he put you down on the hood of the car that was still warm from the engine. Your hands left his neck, but he still remained between your legs, not letting your hips just yet. You could've swore that his eyes were shining that night, you knew it was not possible, that your brain was seeing tings the way it wanted to, but you still chose to believe that impossible was possible in that moment.

His shadow that was casted due to headlights now moved, and with deep inhale his grip left your hips and you bit your lip. You felt disappointed and empty, you wanted him to lean in closer, you wanted to taste him and to seal the deal, but he moved away, hopping on the hood with ease, next to you, and leaning down on the windshield, one hand behind his head and other stretched out across the hood. He wiggled his eyebrows at you and slowly nodded towards his hand.

You pouted but soon enough curled against him, resting your head on his arm and softly gliding your hand over his chest, feeling his heart beat under your palm.

In response he softly put his fingers in your hair, massaging your head in circular moves.

"Look up lass, the sky is beautiful tonight. No clouds, just stars blinking and shining somewhere out there, far, far away. Haven't seen this in a while."

You listened to his words and followed his gaze up towards the sky. He was right, it was indeed beautiful. Dark blue mixed with dozen blinking lights looking back at you and him. Moon was nowhere to be found however. And then it struck you, the whole moment was inscribed into your memory- his soft breathing, the glitter in his eyes, the soft music that was playing from inside the car, the murmur of water somewhere in the distance, the ruffle of the leaves and grass that were moved by soft breeze and your eyes watered a bit, you really wanted to live in this moment forever, to lie on his arm forever and to gaze at the same stars forever.

John noticed the hard breathing next to him and faced you with soft smile "Dont cry lass, I more like you smiling, it suits you better. Can't say the same for those shoes.. Those didn't work for you that well eh?" you chucked through the tears and felt his thumb on your cheek as he wiped one stray tear.

"I just want to be here forever.. Like this. With you next to me. If I had one chance to freeze the time it would be right now, right here with you so I could look at your eyes filled with thousand stars forever, counting them slowly one by one, never getting bored of you." the girl said softly pulling herself closer to him. John smiled and kissed her hair softly.

"Funny how you are telling me the words I should be telling you bonnie. Maybe this is just a dream eh? Maybe we will wake up from it feeling empty..I know that I will miss you when I am gone.. Now, tell me who broke your heart?"

John said with whisper, still gazing up at the stars, slowly closing his eyes.

"Life did. But its nothing you can't fix.." you said quietly, blushing and looking up at him. He opened the eyes and looked back at you, his eyes trailing every line of your face, trying to remember all the features of it as he leaned in and slowly kissed your forehead.

"Dance with me?" He asked and you smiled up at him.

"I dont have any shoes on." you replied as with one swift move he pulled you off the car .

"That is nothing I can't fix." he smirked a bit and lifted you up from the car, telling you to stand on his shoes.

"John no, I am heavy." you chuckled as his hands held you close to him, his hands under his jacket, one placed on small of your back and one firmly held your hip, your feet now on his shoes, and he started moving slowly in tune of "Gloria" by Midnight that was on radio station at the moment.

"Bollocks, you are light as a feather, I can't even feel you. Do you even eat something or you just drink every day?" He joked and you laughed, throwing your hands over his head, locking them behind his neck.

"Captain Mactavish, stop teasing me and kiss me. I demand that action." you ran your hand over back of his head, feeling the tingles on your palm from his fresh shaven hair cut.

He looked down at you, lingering his eyes on your lips that were smirking a bit, slowly closing distance between the two, teasingly.

He pressed his cold lips on yours and you closed your eyes, wanting to remember every single moment and every move he made.

He slowly moved his hand up and down your back, inviting you to deepen the kiss which you accepted. He kissed you slowly, with passion with every move. He was spilling all of his emotions right then and there, he held you like was afraid that you will disappear from his arms, like he wouldn't be able to touch you or feel you. Your heart feel heavy, and you swore he could hear it since it was crashing against your ribcage.

John slowly parted with your lips, looking into your eyes, his forehead resting on yours,

"After I am done with next mission, I will steal you and take you away so we can count all of the starts together, alright?" He asked and you nodded in approval slowly.

"Promise you wont forget?" You blinked up at him and he softly leaned in and kissed your lips again, kiss that was assuring and warm.

"I will be back in two days, wait for me here and be ready for a trip.", he softly brushed his nose on yours and you smiled wide at him, the universe was on your side, fate was on your side. It gifted him to you, to keep him and to cherish him, that whole night was like a fever dream, it almost didn't feel real- but it was. He was there and you were with him, swaying to the music slowly, kissing and feeling each other praying that sun wont come up just yet..

In two days you were at the same spot, your truck filled with all your stuff you needed.

You paced around the car excited, wanting to have his arms around you again, wanting to kiss him again... But he never showed up.

You never saw him again. You visited the bar often, you went to the house where you left his friend that night but the house was not there, it was demolished not long ago.

John disappeared without the trace, just the way he came into your life, unnoticed.

You never heard from him again. It was like that whole night was just a distant dream you had, and you would believe it if it wasn't for his jacket that was in your closet, his smell still lingering on it.

Years have passed, you never quite moved on, settling for a man who was nothing like John, but he cared for you, he really did.

Treating you right, bringing you flowers for every 14th of February, never forgetting anniversary or your birthday.

He didn't have stars in his eyes, he never took you to that place, never made you fall in love with him in bare hours, but he was enough. You had a nice house in nice neighbourhood and you lived a nice life with him.

You were at kitchen, preparing a lunch for your husband and you, when you heard a bell ring of your doors. You swiftly cleaned your hands and rushed to open the door.

"Yes?" You said as handle turned and the door opened.

Man who you never met before stood before you. He had small blue eyes, his beard was a bit weird but it suited him nice. He had a brown hair, and looked like life never treated him with ease.

"Can I help you sir?" You questioned the stranger and he nodded affirmative

"You are a hard one to find (y/n). Took me long enough.. Name's John Price, I have something for you.", he said and pulled white small envelope from his pocket handing it to you

"What is this sir? How do you know my name?" He smiled sadly at you and turned around being ready to leave when he stopped in his tracks, not facing you still.

"I am sorry. Wish I did more." .

He said and you were more confused than ever, you watched as man left your property and you closed the door, looking at the envelope that was in your hand. It was a bit heavy, but only on one side of it.

You rushed to the living room, where you sat down and opened it.

Dog tags fell out from them, they were cleaned recently, but the rust on them was noticeable still.

"John Mactavish"

ARMY

Some numbers and rest were scribbled from them.

Your heart dropped and your lips parted, eyes already filled with tears that slowly left your eye, falling down your cheek.

In the envelope was also a paper, it had blood stains on it. You tried wiping your eyes and reading it.

"I want to invite you for a walk,

To a quiet place; In the moor.

When the breeze sings midnight,

One if those nights- the moon is full.

A restless pounding invades in my heart,

When I think of my confidants-

The stars.

If they could only speak ,

What would they say?

If you could hear them talk.

For they know of my fondness for you,

And that in my thoughts

There is no other one.

If only the stars could speak

They will tell you that I love you,

They would ask you,

To love me back."

You hugged the peace of paper like it was John himself and let your tears fall freely whispering to yourself and to the paper like he could hear you, like he was the one in your arms instead of this bloody peace of paper.

“I do love you John.. I never stopped.”.

A soothing closure fell over you. Now he was the star somewhere up in the sky, looking over at you every night you faced the sky, waiting for you to join him one day.

#cod #cod mw #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john price #soap x reader #major character deaths #fluff #angst

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mizunetzu · 4 years ago

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I recommend you read this right after the first part. Enjoy <3

Tag: @inlittleways

——————

Shinsou x reader - Love Trigger (pt. 2)

⚠️warnings - sad shinsou :(

Pronouns - male, he/him

you can find the first part here!

——————

“You’re in love.”

It made perfect sense. Even if he denied it then, he couldn’t deny it now. He couldn’t decide if he fell in love with the lovey-dovey illusions of the (h/c) haired boy plaguing his mind, or if he wanted him even before that. Even so, one fact was abundantly clear.

He was so desperately in love with (L/n) (Y/n) and he made the biggest mistake of letting him slip through his fingers. It was like tasting the sweet fruit of affection, just to have it ripped away for your stupid actions.

Aizawa coughed into his elbow, trying to get Shinsous attention. He was staring devastatingly at the ground for far too long now, and he wanted to get back on his lunch break. Shinsou slowly raised his eyes, his legs following and bringing himself up to his feet.

“I...gotta go do something. Thanks.” He stumbled out of the faulty room, leaving two confused teachers and a very tired homeless looking man.

Once Shinsou closed the door to the teachers office, he started sprinting. He heard the distant shouts of the uptight blue haired boy from class 1-A, and even passed by his very confused friend. They all sounded like gibberish to him.

He stopped infront of the doors to the 1-H classroom. He didn’t know much about Hatsukoi, but he knew that she ate lunch in her class with her classmates every lunch.

He slammed open the door, startling the 3 girls, as he stomped his way over to the girl in question. She had her feet propped up in the table, and was twirling around a heart shaped cookie in her fingers.

“Deactivate your quirk.”

No response. Hatsukoi wouldn’t talk to him anymore, he figured she knew he was going to brainwash her into deactivating. Hatsukoi took a bite out of her cookie.

Her cockiness was starting to really piss him off. He was tired of have such sweet, vivid hallucinations of (y/n), just to be brought back to the fact he ruined something potentially beautiful. He slammed his fists on the table, making the two girls beside her yelp in suprise.

“DEACTIVATE YOUR FUCKING QUIRK! STOP GIVING ME GAY ASS DREAMS ABOUT (L/N)! I’M SO SICK OF IT!”

Hatsukoi stifled a snicker, and scribbled something on a sturdy napkin. She drew a tiny heart on the corner, then held it up with her bright pink nails. Shinsous heart stopped.

‘I never said I could specify what or who you dream about. Nor what emotion you feel. You did that all by yourself. <3’

Shinsous mouth went slack, ears reddening in embarrassment. Her two friends started giggling at his expression, while Hatsukoi held her signature, bad bitch grin. She flipped the napkin on its backside, and scribbled something else on it.

Shinsous throat closed up.

‘He sits on the rooftop at lunch now. On the third bench on the 2nd wing. Good luck xoxo <3’

He took the napkin, shoved it quickly down his pocket, and bolted out of the classroom. He heard Hatsukoi yell out a “bye bye~!”. He could’ve brainwashed her then, but he had to get his priorities straight.

He dashed up the stairs leading up to the rooftop. Even if (y/n) didn’t love him back, he just needed him in his life. It didn’t matter. He just wanted him to be by his side a little longer.

His legs stopped him in front of the rooftops door. He drew his hand to reach for the doorknob, but that froze aswell. He grit his teeth, yelling at himself to fucking move, but his body remained in place.

His legs felt like jelly. His body was covered in a cold sweat, and butterflies emerged from his stomach. He was nervous. Right on the other side of this door was the very boy he’d been having such intimate hallucinations about. He hopes it won’t get in the way of apolo-

The door swung open before he could react. A figure bumped into him, stumbling back and holding his head with a frown.

It was (Y/n). Oh god, it was so nice to see him up close. Even his frown looked angelic, and his hands looked so soft. The one thing that irked Shinsou though, was that the bento he was clutching was wrapped in a white cloth, instead of his usual, purple one. It was like him telling him that he didn’t need him anymore. It hurt way more that it should’ve.

(Y/n) broke into a cold sweat, and waved awkwardly. “I-hey...Shinsou...”

His voice dripped with honey. Without thinking, Shinsou grabbed onto (Y/n’s) arm and yanked him into the rooftop. All sense of rationality flew out the window.

‘People and their stupid emotions is what makes them idiots.’

Shouts of protest emitted from the (H/c) haired male, but Shinsou kept dragging him. Hell, even him shouting at him sounded heavenly.

‘They think with their feet instead of their head.’

“Shinsou-stop!” Shinsou ignored him, and cornered him onto a wall. He pressed his hand onto the smooth surface, using his other hand to hold one of (Y/n’s) wrists. His skin was so warm.

‘Sure I appreciate people who think I’m attractive. If it feels good, that’s ok. That’s all.’

(Y/n) squirmed and wriggled under Shinsous grasp, yelling at him to stop and using his white-cloth bento box to try and push him away.

‘Instead they cry and cling onto me, it’s seriously annoying.’

Shinsou scowled and ripped the lunchbox away from (y/n’s) free hand. He unwrapped the ugly white cloth, and ripped it to shreds, tossing aside the bare lunch box.

“Hey! Why’d you do that! S-stop it!” (Y/n) pushed at Shinsous chest, grasping at his tie.

‘I can’t understand that sensibility.’

“...why are you stopping me?”

Both his and (y/n’s) movements stopped. It was like pressing pause on a YouTube video. Shinsou had a look of desperation, one that made even (Y/n) feel bad.

Shinsous eyes watered involuntarily. “You..you would always complain when I wasn’t with you, so why is it any different now?!”

(Y/n’s) eyes softened. Shinsou was quiet for a moment, (y/n’s) pitiful gaze suddenly becoming too much to bear. He grasped the fabric of his grey blazer and pushed him up against the wall.

“Stop looking at me like that! S-say something! What do you want me to do? Aren’t we friends?!”

The purple haired boys voice cracked with every other word, tears falling freely down his hot cheeks. (Y/n’s) eyes widened, but he continued to stay silent.

“...I’m not leaving.” Shinsous voice was barely above a whisper, as if any louder he’d break down crying. “Y-You’re the one who can’t befriend people correctly.”

Shinsou cast his head down, tears flinging and cascading in the air. He gripped (y/n’s) blazer tighter. “Y-you’re...you’re the one who clings to me and sticks to me like glue...”

Shinsou brought his head up, suddenly pulling (y/n’s) blazer towards him in the process.

“SO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY!”

Shinsou brought the boy into a hug, clutching onto (y/n) like a lifeline. (Y/n) placed a hand on Shinsous shoulder. “Shinsou...”

“I’m not leaving.” Shinsou squeezed him tighter, furrowing his brows together. “I’m never gonna. Even if you grow uninterested in me, ev-even if you hate me, I’m not leaving!”

Shinsous voice was raspy with tears. “So don’t hate me...please I-I can’t...”

A hand placed itself on the crying boys waist, followed by two arms wrapping themselves snug against his waist.

“...why do you say ‘hate?’, Hitoshi-kun?”

Shinsou looked up. He called him by his first name for the first time in a while. He broke the hug, choosing instead to rest his hands on (y/n’s) shoulders. He tentatively wiped his face with his sleeve. ”You...you started ignoring me and avoiding m-“

“That’s not it!” (Y/n) looked worried, grasping Shinsous hands and squeezing them tightly. “At first, i was going to give you a day before I’d ‘bother’ you again so you wouldn’t hate me, but then I caught a really bad cold!” Shinsous eyebrows unfurled, his expression changing from despair to realization.

“Hitoshi-kun is...very precious to me a-and I didn’t want you to get sick! I’m sorry for avoiding you...please don’t cry...”

“...god, if you were sick you should stayed home...idiot...” (Y/n) brought a hand to his cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had freshly rolled down the males face. Shinsou cupped his hand, nuzzling into the warmth with his face. “I’m sorry, Hitoshi-kun.”

“Don’t apologize, please it’s-it’s my fault...I’m sorry, I won’t say stupid stuff like that again...”

(Y/n) opened his mouth to speak, when Shinsous eyes blared pink once more. However, this time, his eyes didn’t conjure up a fuzzy illusion of (y/n).

Instead, his mouth began to move on its own.

“I love you.”

The pink faded back into its normal purple color, as the two boy stood there in silence. Shinsou slapped a hand over his mouth, all the color draining from his face. If this was what ruined their friendship after he just got it back...

“I...”

“You don’t need to say anything, I said it on accident I’m so-“

(Y/n) buried himself into Shinsous shoulder. He brought his head up to Shinsous ear, and whispered with a smile,

“I love you too.”

—————

The lunch bell rang, cutting off the teacher and sending a chill down Shinsous spine.

He was in the middle of packing up when his friend stopped by his desk. “Ne, ne, you seem happy today.”

Truth be told, Shinsou was. But his face was harboring it’s neutral frown, so he was honestly confused as to how he could tell. Nonetheless, he sheepishly scratched at the back of his head.

“Well, I have a date today. I’m kinda excited,”

“Hold on a second!” His friend stared animatedly at the boy. “You? Person who rejected about 100 confessions, has a date?”

“Yea. What about it?” He walked up to the trash can and dropped a broken pencil inside, his friend flocking to him.

“Nothing nothing, who is it?!”

“Uh-I’m meeting up with them for lunch, so you can come see if you’d like.”

“Awesome!” They stepped out the door, immediately being swarmed by a boy with messy, (h/c) hair.

“Good afternoon, Hitoshi-kun!” (Y/n) wrapped his arms around Shinsou neck, burrowing his head into the crook of his shoulder. Shinsous friend was about to say something, when a Shinsou dipped down and kissed (y/n) on the forehead.

His friends jaw dropped to the floor. “I-Huh?! WAIT! WAIT! SHINSOU, I DIDN’T KNOW YOUR TASTES RAN IN THAT DIRECTION?!”

“To be honest I didn’t either,” Shinsou lazily wrapped his arms around the boy’s waist, resting his cheek on (y/n’s) head and facing his friend. “Well, see you.”

The two walked away from Shinsous friend, hand in hand. (Y/n’s) face lit up, suddenly turning to Shinsou.

“Oh! By the way,” he reached into his blazer, pulling out a bento box with purple cloth and blue kitty cats. “Do you like it? It’s cute, right?Cute like my super hot handsome boyfriend~”

Shinsou blushed. “Shut up...oh, by the way, why did you have a white cloth on your bento that one time?”

“Ah. My mom said I used this one too much, and she made me wash it and stuff. It was wet before I went to school so I had to use the white one. Which you ripped by the way.”

Sweat formed on the purple haired males brow. “W-wait, so you didn’t like, throw it away because you hated me or something?”

(Y/n) tilted his head to the side. “Why would I hate you? And throw away a perfectly good wrap? It’s just a piece of cloth.”

Shinsou flushed red with embarrassment. He pinched his laughing boyfriends cheeks, mumbling something inaudible. He really overthought it.

But then again, he overthought a lot of things.

——————

Ahahshshsj

#my hero academia shinsou #bnha x male reader #bnha shinso x reader #bnha fic #mha x male reader #mha fic #shinsou hitoshi #bnha shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinso imagine #shinsou x reader #mha shinsou #mha shinso x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinsou x male reader #shinsou hitoshi x male reader

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foryoumyheroes · 4 years ago

Note

hi! I dont know if you are still taking request, or even active but if you are, could you do a headcanon with todoroki having a s/o that loves drawing him ? they could be already on a relationship or not ur choice

Hi anon! If you're reading this I previously replied that I am sort of taking requests, but I was inactive until recent. In order to make that up to you I'll give you both a scenario fic and headcanons since I was struck by inspiration to write this! Hope you enjoy!! I kinda spiraled off topic asdfgh

Pls accept my word-vomit like I’m a cat giving you a dead rat.

The Campos

Todoroki x Artist!Reader

"How is it possible for anyone to be that handsome."

Even you were surprised by the words tumbling out of your own head, stopping your pencil in its place and as you froze like a still frame. It wasn’t long before you felt heat creep up your body, painting your cheeks all the way to your ears with a red like the sunset.

It was always like this.

There was nothing artistic from the way his image always flowed from your pencil in hurried lines and messy scribbles, and there was no beauty from how you always hunched over into the collar of your shirts whenever you felt the burning of your emotions. You wrote Todoroki [Name] and [Surname] Shouto in the margins of your notebook as if you had reverted back to primary school, doodled among little tiny hearts and sketches of his side profile.

Maybe your parents were right. You should’ve just gone to art school like they had said and fallen down the path of them and so many of your other relatives. But at fourteen you were just so caught up with wanting to be different. You had to be. You had to get off the beaten path and flow out of the frame you were confined in. You said that in this family you would never be the best artist, but you could become the best Hero that the [Surname]s had ever had. You were a Hero-in-training, but you knew that at heart you would always be an artist.

And now at sixteen you were at a loss. You were at a loss because whenever you looked over at the last window seat in 1-A, your talents always fell short. There was nothing you could draw that could bridge the distance you felt, to calm the foreign feelings in your body. Your drawing skills had not diminished while you practiced war, but you were backtracking now. Perhaps you really should’ve gone to art school instead.

Maybe then you would find a way to express how you truly felt.

Nothing you wrote or drew now could match up to the endless admiration you had for one Todoroki Shouto.

Everyone else was mere background noise to Todoroki when he set his gaze on you.

Although Bakugou and his group of friends were in the common room shouting and making a ruckus and Todoroki’s own friends were giggling at the back of him, tossing frosting, floating bowls of batter to Iida’s ire.

His eyes always sought you out.

It was difficult to explain why. Even now, with you in a baggy sweatshirt and loose jeans rolled at the ankles, Todoroki wondered why he was paying you so much attention. The world around you was spinning and you were at an impasse. You were only writing in your notebook, probably jotting down notes at a speed he couldn’t comprehend. Your head was always buried in that Campos notebook.

With a loud screech, Kirishima bumped his hip on the dining table, jostling both you and him from your standstill, pencils rolling across the wood. Your eyes immediately flashed up and met with his wide heterochromic ones. A deer in the headlights. The two of you turned away as quickly as it came, ignorant to the pink that bloomed on both of your cheeks while a spark flickered across his left cheek.

“Whatcha drawing there, [Name]?” Kirishima asked boisterously, pulling out the chair beside you while you heated up like a furnace, waving your arms around wildly and sputtered like a train engine. You couldn’t snatch it away fast enough and his dark eyes fell on your doodle-ridden pages with a soft, “Oh.” His lips formed a small O shape. His eyes carefully looked up at the hot-and-cold boy before dropping back down to your page. You carefully averted your eyes, fixing [e/c] orbs on some faraway wall until he carefully pulled your notebook toward him and quickly scribbling something down, pushing the pages back toward you.

When you snuck a peek at the drawing of a blond gremlin with spiky hair like a porcupine, and a crude drawing of a K and B underneath an umbrella, a loud laugh tumbled out of your mouth.

It was as if Todoroki didn’t exist anymore as you gave Kirishima your full attention, laughing to whatever jokes he made or witty one-liners.

He wasn’t a poet. He didn’t know the words.

Others could talk about how selfish he was for having his mother’s pretty face and his powerful Quirk; boys and girls have tried before, handing him letters in his locker and bouquets of flowers, but that never mattered to him. Only you have stayed on his mind. His attractive features and his Quirk only had stock to it if it helped him win over your affections.

In crowded places and busy gatherings, when he stood in solidarity, when his hands hung by his sides and his eyes were left with nothing to see, he wondered what primitive part of him was always acting out. How his hands wanted to cut off all connection with the logic in his brain and reach out to grab yours. How he always silently watched you from faraway, physically unable to tear your visage away from his eyes. His body always acted without reason — the heavy palpitations against his rib cage, the rose against his skin, the sweat on his palms, the dilation of his pupils.

He wondered how he was in Heaven just by being near you.

He wondered what it would take to get you to look at him for once.

But your eyes would just be deep within the confines of your Campos notebook, impervious to his lingering thoughts of you.

Surprisingly it was Todoroki who offered to clean up after his friends while they went into the showers to wash away the flour and frosting that coated their hair and skin. The night had already been long by the time they turned in, heavy and drowsy after making several tins of uneven, ugly cupcakes. He had to do something with all of this energy, he thought, scrubbing away at stubborn stripes of sugar that painted the counter tops.

The lights were off and only the streaks of moonlight filtered through the large windows of the dorm room. You had left with Bakugou’s group several hours earlier, accepting Kirishima’s invitation to go to the nearest konbini for ice cream with an open hand.

Now it was just him.

Tossing the rag in the wash bin, he was about to make his way back to his room when his eyes fell upon the dining table and he found your notebook.

How could he not know it was yours. He had seen it within your hands more times than he could count, more obsessively than Midoriya’s Hero Analysis for the Future No. 13. He wondered if that was why he was so interested in you. Your dedication to your studies were admirable. Nearly twenty-four-seven.

Carefully, he crept closer to it, as if it was a bomb going to detonate before he picked it up.

The pages curled and crinkled in his hands, and he debated opening it.

It was just a school notebook, right? You probably only had notes and worksheets hidden inside of it.

Maybe he could get an answer to your time. He could discover the subjects that you were struggling at, or even find one that you were better than him at. You were a couple ranks below him in the class grades. When he returned your Campos to you he could ask to study with you.

He flipped it open and his heart stopped at the sight.

Shit, shit, shit! you thought, running down the stairs, taking two at a time. It was late enough that the elevators were locked for curfew and you cursed Aizawa-sensei for putting your room at the very top of the building. After you had gotten back from the konbini with your friends, cheeks hurting from how hard you were laughing at Kaminari’s antics and Sero’s sarcasm, you had completely forgotten that you left your notebook on the kitchen table. You only remembered when you dug through your bag only to scramble around when nothing came up. If anyone like Hagakure or god forbid — Mineta, found it, you would never live it down. You were lucky enough that Kirishima was a good sport about it. He knew how to keep his mouth shut, but everyone else?

You wondered if it was too late to transfer schools.

Your feet landed harshly on the carpeted ground after the final step, head snapping back and forth for your notebook, but froze at what you saw.

Even in the dim light of the moon and past the hand clamped over his face, you could see the heavy pink on his cheeks.

Your heart dropped.

“I — “ His hand fell to his side and you were given a full view of the strong flush on his face. “That’s my notebook... Todoroki-kun.”

When the Campos dropped to the floor and he dashed across the common room, hand around your waist and his lips on yours, you found that you didn’t need flowery words or an arsenal of artistic techniques to express how you felt.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, locking him deeper in the embrace, fingers cording through his soft red and white hair.

The instinct to be closer to him would be all you need to overcome the division between a desire for him and the stillness of your body.

Headcanons:

After you two get together and it becomes more obvious that you’re drawing him, he’ll coax you out of doing it in secret.

He’ll ask to take pictures of the drawings on the margins of your notebook or if you’re drawing it on scrap paper, he’ll ask to have it after you’re done with it.

He keeps it in a box uwu and he has to upgrade every year because it keeps on getting full.

Even if you’re not drawing him, you ask him to pose for you so you can take references for your other drawings. He’s just so proportionate!!

It makes him so happy every time he sees it!! He nearly catches on fire every time.

The fact that you’re expressing your affections in this special way makes him so soft??

He once tried to draw you in return but he has like zero to none art experience. Even had no experience in his childhood because all he wanted to draw was All Might and Endeavor wouldn’t allow that.

Instead you offer to teach him the basics on how to draw and you two continue bonding that way!! You sit on his lap because that’s the best spot to be close enough to guide him and show him how to draw while you drone on and on about shadows, anatomy, perspective, and he’s just nodding along without a single word going to his brain because he’s just staring at you the entire time.

[“Shouto-chan, did you get that?”

“Yeah...boxes?”]

If you draw him complete pictures he keeps it on his wall, and eventually his dorm room looks like he’s about to string red yarn around it because it’s blanketed with paper all over like he’s uncovering a murder conspiracy.

A/N: The picture that I used for the page breaks is Anselm Feuerbach’s “Peonies” and I actually saw it in real life at the Neue Pinakothek!! It’s one of my favorites and I even got a mousepad of it bc I’m a dork asdfg

The Kirishima and [Name] scene is inspired by this comic by marbitss and I was inspired to write a lot of prose after reading Nicole Krauss’ The History of Love!

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mommymooze · 4 years ago

Text

A Lesson in Beekeeping

Claude x reader

Warning: bee sex discussed. Honeybees. Bee Stings. The noble worker bee giving up her life for the hive

Today is a free day. Free from classes and studying and homework. Everyone needs time to themselves to relax and do what interests them. You’re deep in the woods near the monastery, collecting plants, seeds, flowers and mushrooms. Your restful time alone is interrupted as Claude, your house leader, has found you.

“What’s a little girl like you doing out in the dark spooky woods? You better watch out for big bad wolves!” Claude laughs.

“I’m not Lys. This isn’t frightening. The higher altitude and specific climate divergence varies greatly from what I am accustomed to, as well as the flora has specific diverse qualities that interest me.”

“No need to go all Linhardt on me.” The dark haired male backpedals.

“New place, new plants.” You translate.

“You’re not going to complain about being called little?” Claude elbows you, digging for a reaction.

You roll your eyes. “My stature is undisputed. 95% of the student body is taller than I am. As time passes, the percentage pullulates.”

“So now what am I going to pick on?” Claude shrugs.

“Your pants, most likely, you’re standing amongst cockleburs.” You grin.

Pulling your notebook out, you scribble something on a page, stuffing a few leaves in the book before you return it to your pocket.

The next day, Professor Byleth makes an announcement to the class. “The kitchen is in need of anyone who is familiar with collecting honey or bees.” She continues to read the note and frowns. “Honeybuns no longer available in the kitchen.” She looks panicked.

Dorothea, recently recruited into the house raises her hand. “Ferdinand is much like a bee, send him!”

You raise your hand. “I will assist.” You do not mind missing the afternoon class for weapons training and maintenance, since you are a mage, it does not interest you.

“I’ll give it a shot.” Claude throws his hat into the ring.

“You guys are creepy, wanting to play with bugs.” Lysithia snipes.

Class ends and everyone heads out for lunch. Byleth thanks you and Claude for saving the honey buns.

You finish lunch quickly and head to the back entrance of the Kitchens. Martha greets you and hands you a few buckets and sharp knives. They don’t really have the beekeeping equipment, the keeper left suddenly due to his mother becoming ill.

“Looks like we’re going to have to improvise.” You groan.

“To be honest, I’ve never done this before. Always willing to learn something new though.” Claude confesses.

You frown at him. “You’re just curious because their stings contain poison.”

Claude looks away.

You run over to the Golden Deer lunch table. “Professor, we’re going to need assistance gathering equipment together. I’m going to leave the buckets and knives here, if anyone can add to it bring it here. Dorothea, do you have any stiff wide brimmed hats? I need 2. Leonie, can you bring some scissors, needles, thread and thick twine string or cord. Going to need about 3-4 meters. Does anyone have any thick extra leather gloves? Especially if you don’t want them back because they are going to get messy. A pair for me and a pair for Claude. We also need 2 white long sleeved shirts. Ignatz, if you have a spare that would be wonderful. Need one for Claude too unless he has one.”

You run off to the marketplace to find some dark black diamond netting with the smallest holes you could find. Back at the dining hall the Deer have done the deed and all needed items are acquired.

You create a beekeepers veil from the hat, stitching the netting around the brim of each hat. Wearing the long sleeved shirt you put the hat on, then tie the hat itself on with it’s ribbons so it won’t fall off when you bend over. Then you tie the string over the veil around your neck so that the string goes under the collar of the shirt. Putting on the gloves, you stuff the cuffs inside then wrap the open end of the gloves shut with gauze, pinning then tying it with more string. At the bottom of your pants you tie them around your ankles keeping them close over your socks. You take extra string and wrap them around bundles of semi dry weeds you pilfered from the compost pile.

You are ready for the battle of the bees.

“How do you know all this?” Claude asks as you head out around the walls of the monastery. The bees are located around the back by the fruit trees.

“Grew up a farmer. Brothers wrangled the larger animals. I was stuck with smaller ones. Chickens, ducks, geese, rabbits and bees. Need bees to pollenate fruit trees.”

“An expert on the birds and bees. Got it!” Claude grins.

“Have you ever been stung by a honeybee?” You ask him.

“Dunno. I’ve been stung by all kinds of bees. Black ones, yellow and black, black and white.” He shrugs.

“Claude! Just like every four legged animal is not just a horse, every flying insect is not necessarily a bee!!” You chastise him. “Honeybees are mostly non-threatening unless you are invading their home or disturb them while they gather nectar.” You stop at a nearby flowering bush. “This bush has all sorts of insects on it.” You take the sharp knife and point at a few different ones identifying them. Bluebottle fly, paper wasp, hornet, sweat bee, carpenter bee, bumblebee and finally honey bee.

“Most of the stinging insects have a sharp, smooth, pointy stinger, like Felix’s sword. The honeybee has a barb at the end of its stinger. Think of Byleth’s fishhook. The smooth stingers, can sting multiple times each putting a little poison in. Honeybees, when they sting, their barb gets stuck in your skin, and it rips off their stinger. When the stinger rips out, the poison sac comes along with it. The bee then dies, they are literally giving their life protecting their homes. Never use your fingers to grab the stinger to remove it, you are squeezing more poison into you. Scrape it off with the blade of the knife.”

“Good to know.” The archer nods.

“We are headed out to work on the bees. As soon as you notice you have been stung, we move away and make sure it won’t kill you. If it itches or swells a little, that’s normal. If you swell up to 10 times your normal size and stop breathing, you’re allergic.” You warn.

“Understood.” The Deer’s leaderman nods.

At the middle of the orchards are several different tables and boxes. You put the knife and bucket on the table. Inside of the boxes, with the front completely open, are what look like upside down baskets. They have a small hole in front that the bees are going in and out of at a fast rate.

“First we need smoke.” You instruct, taking out a bundle of semi dry weeds, lighting the ends with fire magic until most of the ends catch fire, then you blow the fire out. The weeds give off lots of smoke.

You tell Claude to wait by the table. You quickly go in front of a hive and lift it, pulling it out of the boxlike shelf and placing it on the table. You lift the hive pulling it to the edge of the table and let the smoke go into the hive for 30 seconds or so.

“Smoke gives the bees something to do besides chase you. When bees smell smoke, they think there is a fire in the hive. That means they have to grab what they can and get ready to leave. The bees are filling their stomachs as fast as they can and will fly off when the heat is too much. Another benefit of this is the bees will have a full stomach and are less likely to sting you. The bee has to curl its body to the front of it to sting you, like bending itself into a letter C. That is much harder to do when its gut is full, less likely to sting.”

You look underneath again There are several rows of beeswax combs hanging down with bees crawling all over them many bees face first into cells eating. You squat down low so you can look up into the hive. The white beeswax comb on the outside looks like it is empty, the next section of comb looks like it has some nectar or honey in it, and the one after that looks like it is fat with honey that has been covered over by the bees.

“Ok. This is a skep, we try to get bees to build their hives in them. It is thick rope that is bound together in sort of a bell or upside down pot shape. The bees start at the top and attach wax to the top, then create these combs. The combs are built hexagonal cells on each side at the tiniest bit of an angle, facing up in a wide V shape. That is so they can put nectar in it and fill it almost half way. Once the nectar is in, other bees will evaporate the water from the nectar by fanning their wings. Once enough water is evaporated, it turns the nectar to honey. Once it is the right thickness they fill the cell up completely, then bees cover it with wax to preserve it. Then we steal it.”

You stick the knife between the ropes of the skep. You cut through the beeswax at the top and sides of the third comb from the left until it comes loose in your hands. Gently, so gently, you pull it out from the hive. It has some bees on it, but most of them stay inside the hive.

“Honeycomb is made from wax that the bees shed off their bodies. They chew it until soft and build these perfectly symmetrical 6 sided cells. Notice the bottom of the cells on this side matches with where 3 cells come together on the other side. Makes it super strong. This honey is heavy, at least 15 pounds on this one chunk alone. We only want to take honey, and the honey should be covered by wax.”

You tilt the comb to the right and some liquid runs out of a few cells.

“Too watery. Bees didn’t cover it and won’t until it evaporates more. Whatever spills the bees will collect and put into their hive again.”

There is about 16 centimeters of comb at the bottom where there is nectar not covered or just empty. You cut this from the rest of the honeycomb, placing the capped comb in the bucket.

You take the part that is cut off and hold it to the light.

“Sometimes you can see eggs in the bottom of the combs that do not have nectar in them, those are bees of the future. I am not wasting this. I’m going to melt the wax at the cut and put it back where I took the other part out.

Squatting under the hive, you summon magical flames, melting all along the cut edge of the wax and nectar, sticking it into the space you took the top of it from. Holding it up there you wait a bit for the wax to cool and it sticks. You leave the next couple combs alone, looking at the opposite side. You don’t want to disturb the queen or babies. The bees keep their spare honey to the sides of the nest where the queen is laying eggs. You decide to cut another chunk out. Gently taking it out you bring it to the table. There is capped honey about half way down. Then the honey stops and there is different colored darker stuff in the combs.

“The top is capped honey. Bees make it to feed the babies and feed themselves, especially in winter. Next they gather pollen. They even sort it keeping the types of pollen together. Grass, clover, ash, oak, maple, sunflower, if it has pollen bees take it. Heavy protein in pollen. They sort honey too. You’ll see all kinds of colors. Really light colored honey in the spring. Darker honey in the fall. Anyway, cells lower than that is where the queen lays the eggs. When the eggs hatch they look like larvae, you know, the stuff Teach fishes with. The bees feed the larvae honey and pollen. It grows and fills the cell. Once it is big enough it spins a cocoon, the adult bees cover them with wax. They pupate and turn into adult bees, chewing their way out and going to work in the hive.

You continue working as you harvest more honeycomb and try not to destroy any of the hard work of the bees by putting what comb you can back inside the skeps.

“I gotta know. Tell me about bee sex. Everyone talks about the birds and the bees.” Claude grins.

“There are 3 castes of bees. The queen. The worker. The drone. There is one queen in a hive. She is the only female that mates. She mates for maybe 7-10 days of her life, maybe 12 to 16 times. Spends the rest of her life laying eggs. Her body is the longest/biggest in the hive, her abdomen is quite large, swollen with eggs. It sticks out much farther than her wings. Next are the female workers. That accounts for 90% more or less of the population. They gather the nectar, bring it back, put it in the cells, dehydrate it, make wax, build cells, protect the hive, guard the hive, get rid of the dead, feed the queen, clean the queen, pollenate the flowers, collect the pollen and 100 other jobs. If there is work to be done they do it. They have the stingers that sting to protect the hive. Queens have stingers too, but theirs are smooth. They fight other queens, nothing else. That is why there is only one.“

“We can’t’ forget the drones, the males. They have no stinger. They do no work. They contribute nothing to the hive except for the queens genes. They don’t pollenate. Their only purpose is to go out and find a virgin or recently virgin queen to mate with. They mate while flying in the air. The drones hang out in an area looking for their lady love. Their eyes make up 80% or more of their head, go almost all the way around it. Once they see a queen, they fly after her. She flies high and fast and whoever catches her first gets her. He sticks his male part into her female part. Upon his entry, his part breaks off, and he falls to his death. She goes out again for more. Bees don’t mate with their relatives, each has their own smell. So they spread their genes around. “

“Gah!” Claude slaps his arm. “They got me!”

“Get over there by the wall and sit down!” You order him, quickly finishing what you were doing, then rushing to Claude’s side, away from the bees you take off your hat and veil putting your ear to his chest to listen. His heart sounds pretty normal. Breathing sounds good

“Where is the sting?” You’re looking him over.

He points to his right upper arm.

“How are you feeling?” You’re watching the spot where he was stung, checking his fingers, his eyes, listening to his breathing.

“Talk to me for a bit. Just talk about anything. If your tongue swells up, that’s a bad sign. Talk so I know you’re okay.” You unbutton his shirt and pull it down over his shoulder to where the sting is.

“Gah! Just mention bee sex and you’re all over me!” He laughs.

The bee must have snuck inside his shirt, got into a small hole somewhere. His arm looks okay, the stinger is still in his arm and his skin is red around the stinger, the spot is about as big as a gold coin and slightly puffed up. Pulling a dagger out of your pocket, you scrape along his arm, flicking the stinger out.

All the while Claude keeps talking, counting trees in rows. Asking if you would be taking his pants off if he was stung in the leg…

“How are you feeling now?” You ask. “And that is why your pants legs are tied at the ankles. To keep them out.”

“Doing fine.” He grins. “The sting hurts a little less now. Not sweaty, not a real good poison. Mostly localized.

You put your ear to his chest again, checking on his breathing and heart rate.

“So how many stings before they really get to you?” The master tactician asks, his mind always working.

“If you are allergic 1, if you are sensitive maybe 20? If you work with them all of the time? Well I had over 75 in a single day and it just made me a bit nauseous.” You say as you help him put his shirt back together. “Want to do more or call it quits? I don’t want to do this when it starts to get dark.”

You both agree to play it safe. Marking the hives that were harvested, you head to the kitchen dropping off the buckets of honey. There’s a few bees hanging out with the honey comb, but the kitchen can deal with them.

Heading back to the hives you finish cleaning up.

“So what did you bring to put bees in?” You ask.

“What?” Claude feigns innocence.

“Don’t be all innocent with me. You want some of their poison.” You grin. “Give it to me. I’ll get some in it and then show you how to get your poison. Oh, remember, male bees have no stingers right? I think we should prank Lorenz. It’ll give him a heart attack.”

Claude laughs heartily, “And here I thought you were nothing but a bookworm with no sense of humor.”

“I can have fun too!” You whine.

“Great, just come by my room any night you want to discuss more about the birds and the bees, eh?” He grins.

“Now you’re sounding like Sylvain.” You groan.

“Oooh, that was a major insult. I am wounded.” Claude laughs.

***********************

Yes. I am a beekeeper. I love my bees. I could watch them work for hours. The smell of a beehive on a warm summers day is amazing.

#fe3h #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fe16 #feth #fe3h x reader #Claude von Riegan #beekeeper #Save the Bees

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theshopislocal · 4 years ago

Text

corinth rains

New and improved Heaven may well be the Happiest Place (not) on Earth. But Dean, it turns out, is still Dean.

(also on AO3)

chapter two

Heaven is warm, bucolic, and perfect. And it gives Dean the damned heebie-jeebies.

He recalls a memorable night spent with Pamela - well, as memorable as it could be after a fifth of Macallan. Sam had said ‘So get this...’ and then fucked off to the local library, leaving Pam and Dean at the hotel bar. They’d drunk til the lights got fuzzy, and Pam had leaned back against the barstool, arching one dark eyebrow.

She’d had Dean supine across the foot of the squeaky queen, sitting astride him and working some kind of magic. She’d settled his hands on her slim waist, tugged at his hair, bitten his lips; he’d had nary a moment to want something before she gave it - the craving coming on the heels of the having.

Heaven is much the same - perceptive and generous - and it leaves Dean feeling just as he had that night with Pam. Vulnerable, flayed open. Seen.

He assumes it’s heaven’s off-brand kind of ESP that’s landed him here, seated at a teakwood dining table in a house over yonder.

There are soft sounds from the kitchen - cabinets opening, a gurgling coffee maker, a substratum of tuneless humming. Dean hunches over his plate and shovels another forkful of pie into his mouth. It’s sweet and rich, tart and crumbly, and he barely tastes it at all.

“You alright?”

Dean looks up to find Mary seated across from him. She’s a little younger than when he last saw her, but otherwise she’s just as he remembers - her yellow hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her eyes a soft Carolina blue.

She stares at him, calm and unconcerned, the bow of her lips turned up in a tiny smile.

Dean shakes his head and gives a little shrug. “Yeah, ‘course,” he says, gruffer than intended.

She notices, he’s sure, but she only tips her head in a nod. “Okay.”

A quietude stretches between them, peaceful but gravid. Mary tilts her head, face serene and mildly expectant, and she inches a pale hand forward on the table. His fingers clench around the little dessert fork, and he takes another bite.

She’s waiting, he realizes, for him to speak, to get there. Though where ‘there’ is, Dean’s got no damn idea.

“You know,” he says, to fill the silence, “Sammy asked me if I remembered anything,” he swallows, throat dry, and looks down at his plate, “‘bout bein’ a kid.”

Mary’s eyebrows pop up, and she smiles a little wider. “You remembered me,” she offers.

Dean’s eyes alight on hers, and his lips purse. There’s something something fragile in her face, a budding hope that he doesn’t want to crush. You made me sandwiches, he wants to say. You told me bedtime stories.

His stomach clenches. You burned alive, gutted on the ceiling.

Dean looks away, brow furrowed. “‘Course I did,” he grunts out, throat tight.

She gives him a look that goes right through him - compassionate, or maybe pitying. Her mouth turns down like she can hear his thoughts, and he bites his cheek, shamefaced.

“What else do you remember?” she asks, and her voice is mild and curious, lacking the censure Dean expected.

Dean reins in his surprise and dips his head, summoning a wry smile. “Well,” he says and points his fork at the plate of pie crumbs.

She rolls her eyes and nods, smiling once again. “Yes, obviously pie. What else.”

He stares at her for a moment, feeling wrong-footed and a little short-changed, then peers through the open French doors toward the mountainside. He scans his memories, steering clear of the ugly ones that present themselves first, looking for something - anything - to keep her smiling.

...Weedy grass and buzzing bees.

“Our backyard,” he murmurs, and feels his lips quirk up.

Mary’s smile grows soft, warm like the spring air. “Mm,” she hums. “Always overgrown. Your dad never wanted to mow it.”

Dean withholds a wince at the mention of John, and a muscle twitches in his jaw. “I liked it how it was.”

Mary’s eyes dart up to his, and her soft laugh lines deepen. “Yeah, you did.”

Dean’s eyes trace over her face, searching for something, though he’s not sure what. She’s still the girl who made a deal with a yellow-eyed demon. Still the woman who left, and left, and left again. She’s no more perfect now than she ever was, but...

She has laugh lines, and yellow hair, and Carolina blue eyes. And she’s looking at Dean like she’s missed him forever. Damn, if he hasn’t missed her, too.

Something loosens in his chest, and his fists unclench. He smiles, wan but sincere, and leans back in his seat, crossing his ankles under the table. “Coulda done without the bees though.”

She huffs a little laugh and shakes her head. “You loved the bees,” she counters.

Dean raises a doubtful eyebrow. “Did I?”

“Mhm,” she hums, nodding sagely. “You’d chase ‘em around, flapping your arms like little wings.”

Dean squints, searching his scattered memory. He remembers the yard, the foliage, the window into the kitchen. He remembers thunder and lightning and torrential downpour. He doesn’t remember himself.

“Huh,” he says, and folds his arms over his chest.

He stares across the table at Mary. She’s silent but smiling, her eyes far away. It’s a familiar look, one he’s seen on nearly everyone he knows in Heaven. Like they’re lost in a beautiful memory - a moment in their past lives that they didn’t regret.

Dean doesn’t think about his human life. He’d lived it, after all. That was enough.

“You drew me a map once.”

Dean eyes flick up from where they’d settled on his dirty plate, and his brow furrows. “A map?”

She nods, still staring glassy-eyed into the middle distance. “You followed one little bee all day long,” she murmurs. “Counted all the flowers she landed on. Then you,” she swallows, and her eyes go shiny, “you raced inside and scribbled it all out on the back of a—” a startled huff of laughter, “—a takeout menu.”

Dean watches her, the way her eyes flick back and forth, like she’s watching the scene unfold before her. There’s an ache near the center of his chest like a bruise. “I don’t remember that,” he says, voiced pitched low.

Her head tilts up, absent eyes meeting his as she pulls herself from reverie. “You were... three? Maybe four?” She looks down and brings a hand to settle over her heart. “It was beautiful,” she whispers, and tilts her head. “Wish I still had it.”

Dean nods at her, though she’s still looking away, and he feels a hot coil of guilt in his stomach. Mary had adored him, he knows that much, and she’d lost him as surely as he’d lost her. He remembers the expectant way he’d looked at her in the bunker, wanting something she couldn’t remember how to give. Something he barely even remembers himself.

There’s movement behind Mary’s head, and Dean’s eyes snap to it.

Something is... growing on the wall.

Dean’s fists clench up, and he watches with hawk eyes as the thing manifests, forming itself into a vaguely rectangular shape. He feels his lips purse tight and his spine straighten like a rod.

Mary senses his sudden tension and looks up, following his eyes over her shoulder.

“Oh my god,” she whispers in awe.

She unfolds herself from her chair and stands up slowly, as if in a dream. She walks the four paces to the wood-paneled wall, reaching out a cautious hand. Her fingers close around the frame of the thing, and she gives a soft sigh.

Dean stares at her back where the knobs of her spine meet her neck, her shoulder blades distorting the periwinkle plaid of her blouse. She turns around, her eyes fixed on her prize, thumbs smoothing over the simple wood frame.

She comes around the table, sliding into the chair at Dean’s side, and when she finally looks up at him, her eyes are bright and red-rimmed. She takes Dean’s hand in hers, her skin smooth and cool, and slips the little framed drawing into his palm.

He peers down at it and gives a startled bark of laughter.

The drawing is entirely ridiculous - an indecipherable riot of squiggly pen lines and waxy crayon color. There’s a messy bed of green near the bottom, which Dean assumes is grass, and it’s speckled with tiny blobs of vibrant pink and deep red - flowers, Dean thinks. Near the center of the page is a single white daisy with a bright yellow bumblebee hovering over it. A swirling purple line trails behind its black-striped body, making loop-de-loops around every flower. The sky is a strip of electric blue at the top, just above an empty field of white - the landscape drawn as children often do, with the heavens separated from the earth.

His fingers hover over a grease-stained corner, illegible text bleeding through. “Jeez,” he breathes out. “Clearly I missed my calling.”

He hears the broad smile in Mary’s voice. “Coulda been the next Da Vinci,” she says, nudging his shoulder.

Dean huffs and raises an eyebrow. “More like Picasso.”

She laughs at that, as he knew she would, and it sounds like Corinthian bells, chiming in harmony on the breeze.

Dean smiles to himself, eyes roving over his apparent masterpiece before alighting on a strange scribble in the corner.

“What’s this?” he murmurs, pointing a finger at the tiny black and blue squiggle.

“Hm?” Mary leans closer to him, and Dean’s nose twitches with the scent of tart apples clinging to her hair. She looks at the little scribble, frowning for a moment, before her eyebrows pop up. “Oh, wow,” she sighs out, leaning closer. “I forgot about that.”

She reaches out a hand to grasp the side of the frame opposite Dean’s, the small weight of the silly little drawing shared between them. She’s got that look again, like there’s an old Super 8 projection playing in her head. Dean wonders what’s on the reel.

She chews her lip for a moment, then tips her head toward Dean. “You remember what I used to tell you before bed?” she asks, peering up at his face.

Dean frowns. “Brush your teeth or they’ll turn green?”

She gives him a look. “That was Dad.”

Dean tips his head back in a nod. “Right. Uh...” Dean trails off for a moment, unsure. Nearly all of his childhood memories are of Mary, but they’re weathered and vague, filtered through the consciousness of a toddler. He barely remembers the words she said, only the lilting strains of her voice as she calmed him, soothed him, protected him—

An image flits across his mind, and he sucks in a breath: a tiny figurine that sat on the mantel, with fluffy little wings and a crown of white roses.

Dean blinks and shakes his head. “Angels are watching over me,” he intones.

He sees Mary nod in his peripheral vision, and her finger taps on the little scribble near his thumb.

“It’s—” Dean starts and frowns, askance, “...an angel?” he guesses.

“Mhm,” she hums, giving another slow nod. Her finger slides across the two tiny black scrawls, vaguely triangular and joined at the middle. “Wings,” she says, then taps the blue oval just above, “halo.” He sees her smile out of the corner of his eye. “You drew it all the time.”

Dean stares at the squiggle, a frown etching across his forehead. The figurine he remembers was nearly solid white, the only deviations its pink skin and dark eyes. There’s not a speck of white in the little scribble, no cherubic cloud-seeder to be found. Just messy black shapes and a faded blue circle. Black wings, blue halo.

Black wings. Blue halo.

Black wings.

... Blue—

The painting slips from his fingers as Mary takes it back in her hands. She holds it gently, reverently, as she stands and walks around the table. Dean shakes his head to clear it, and watches as she replaces the little picture on the center of the wall. It looks, at once, as if it has always hung there, and like he’d drawn it but a moment ago.

A shiver climbs up the back of Dean's neck. He shrugs it off.

“How’s Dad?” he asks lowly, and regrets it immediately.

Mary turns around, her eyes a little wide, eyebrows climbing toward her hairline. Dean isn’t sure why he asked. He backtraces his train of thought, only to find he hadn’t had one at all; seems he’s done his usual shtick of putting his foot in his mouth the very moment he opens it.

Mary seems to sense his imminent retraction, and she settles her face into a genial smile. “He’s good,” she says mildly and comes back to her seat across from Dean. “Wasn’t sure he’d like it here, at first. But,” she settles into the worn wooden chair, “I think he does.”

Dean represses a scoff at that. “Why wouldn’t he?” he says and picks up his fork, eyes downcast. “He’s got you.” He slides the crumbs around on his plate, shoulders hunching forward. “All he ever wanted.”

Mary is silent for a long moment, and Dean doesn’t look up - he can picture her face well enough. His fork scrapes against white porcelain, the sun a bright glare on the stainless steel tines.

Mary sighs, barely audible. “You ever gonna talk to him?”

Her voice is soft and ambivalent, as if she’s already accepted his answer. It gets Dean’s back up, and he peers up at her through flinty eyes.

She’s staring at him, face guileless and open. There’s a spark of curiosity in her eyes, flavored with a sort of tempered sadness. But there’s no reproof, no expectation, and Dean gets the strange feeling that there isn’t a right answer. Or a wrong one.

Dean’s jaw goes a little slack, and for a moment, he thinks he might simply say, No.

Mary tips her head to the side, eyes going soft as her lips turn up, and the moment passes.

“‘Course, I will,” Dean grumbles, casting his eyes back to his empty plate. He shrugs. “Not avoiding him, just...” he trails off and shakes his head. Best leave it there.

Mary takes a slow breath, and Dean sees the vague shape of her leaning forward in her seat.

“Well,” she starts, lacing her fingers on the tabletop. “I won’t speak for him—”

Dean snorts. “But.”

Mary sighs, amused and resigned. “But... I know he’s got a lot to say. He just...” she pauses for a moment, then shrugs her shoulders. “He doesn’t really know how to say it. He knows he—” she cuts herself off with a quick shake of her head. “Well,” her hands raise in a brief shrug. “It’s his truth to tell.”

Dean nods absently, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He’s known since ‘they live over yonder’ that a reckoning would come for him and his dad. Dean just isn’t quite sure if he’s ready for whatever truth John might tell - or if he’s even inclined to listen to it.

Dean clenches his jaw and drops his fork onto the plate. It clatters loud in the calm of the spring afternoon, and Dean barely restrains a flinch.

Mary leans further forward, hand sliding halfway across the table.

“Dean—”

“Think Sammy’s gonna join the Arch,” Dean says overloud, settling his elbows on the tabletop.

Mary pauses at the abrupt change of subject, but deftly lets it slide. Her eyes flutter a bit, and she pulls her hand back. “Yeah?” she asks, giving a slightly awkward smile.

Dean feels a twinge of guilt in his throat and swallows it down. “Mm,” he nods. “Eileen’s gonna join. And lord knows wherever she goes—”

“Sam goes,” Mary finishes, her smile seeming to widen and soften at once. “He loves her,” she murmurs.

Dean’s stomach clenches taut, even as a smile comes unbidden. He remembers Sam peering over his shoulder as they’d stood on the bridge, his mouth slack and eyes liquid. Dean had known without looking who stood behind him. Sam had gone to her on shaky legs that crumbled beneath him as he reached her. Dean’s vision had gone blurry, and he’d turned away from them, eyes squinting out at the sunlit mountain.

“Yeah,” Dean says, voice a little thick. He clears his throat and nods. “And I get it, ya know. He—” he interrupts himself on a wincing inhale. “He lost her before.” A dry swallow. “Twice.”

Mary makes a little noise in her throat. “Three times,” she whispers.

Dean frowns, confused, and glances up at Mary. Her eyes are shiny, mouth screwed up in a tiny sad smile.

Oh. “She... she went before him?”

Mary’s eyebrows scrunch together, and she sniffs. “She stayed with us. Til he came.”

Dean’s brows rise at that. Offering comfort in a time of need isn’t really his parents’ bag - at least, not that Dean can remember.

Then again, he can’t think of anyone who knows grief better.

“Huh,” he grunts in lieu of a response, and glances up.

Mary is still staring at him, but the melancholy has given way to a sharp sort of consideration. Her eyes dart over his face, slightly squinted, and she looks so much like Sam that Dean turns to stare out at the sun.

Here in Heaven, Sam and Mary are quite alike: happy, whole, and ready for a new life - a new fight.

Dean is just... tired.

“You know,” Mary begins, and Dean’s eyes flick to her hands, still resting on the table. “He’s not going anywhere,” she says, and Dean’s eye twitches in a wince. “You know that, right?”

Dean nods and swallows, looking down at his own hands. “Yeah, I know.” And he does know.

“Even if he joins the Arch,” she continues as if he hadn’t spoken. Her voice is ardent but still gentle, and she leans forward. “He’s not going anywhere. He—” she huffs and tips her head side to side. “He might get a little banged up, maybe, but—”

He knows. “I know.”

“—he...” Mary trails off on a sigh, stretching her arm across the table. Her fingers brush his, and he holds himself still. “No one’s gonna take him away, Dean.” She runs her thumb over the knuckles of his fist. “It’s work,” she acknowledges. “Dirty work, even, but... it’s not life or death,” she murmurs with a tiny smile. “Not here.”

Dean knows this. He knows all of this, but... But that doesn’t stop him from... It’s not the same as...

It doesn’t make him—

“I know,” he intones, giving her a tight smile.

Her eyebrows make a sympathetic shape, and she pulls her hand back. Dean’s shoulders relax, just slightly.

“You know, your dad thought you would join,” she says with a little smile.

Dean huffs out a chuckle, bitter and resigned. “��Course he did,” he grunts, pressing his thumbs together.

“Dean,” Mary sighs, tone somewhere between chiding and apologetic.

Dean’s lips turn down, and he shakes his head. “Sorry,” he mutters, mostly sincerely.

“It wasn’t an expectation,” Mary says, then gives a little shrug. “He just... I think he figured all the—” she shakes her head, as if searching for the words, “-the soul-searching would...” she sighs. “I dunno... Make your teeth itch,” she finishes with a wry smile.

Dean gives her one back, though he feels a headache coming on. His teeth do itch. Everything itches. Everything chafes.

“Well,” he starts and swallows again. His throat’s gone bone dry. “Still searching, I guess,” he says, and he supposes it might be true, but- “Not sure what for, though.”

Mary reaches her hand out again, and Dean goes tense for a moment. His eyes flit to hers, and he finds them crinkled at the corners. She’s smiling at him as she’d smiled at his little drawing, as she’d smiled when she sat him down, as she’d smiled while he ate his pie. She’s smiling at him now, as she had when he was a boy, as she always has.

Her skin looks like clouds, her eyes like the sky. She laces her fingers with Dean’s, and the tension across his back fades away.

“I think,” Mom murmurs, “you’ll know it when you find it.”

chapter one | chapter three

table of contents

#corinth rains #destiel #deancas #fanfiction #post-canon #slow burn #dean-centric #tw: depression #chapter wc: ~3.4k

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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

Photo

NCT One Shot Collection

Member: Doyoung

Genre: Fluff, crush? tutor Doyoung hehe

Word Count: 2.4k

Jungwoo sat across you in the library, twirling his pen through his fingers, his strawberry blonde fringe covering his eyes from your angle. Girls were looking at him from the back as he ruffled his hair out of frustration.

"Do you know how to do this question?" He whispers from across the table, earning your attention as you pulled out your earpiece.

"Does it look like I do?" You squinted your eyes at him, lifting your own notepad and showing him the nonsensical workings you had scribbled down in the last 10 minutes.

"Where did Mom's smart genes go? They aren't with me and they sure as Hell aren't with you," Jungwoo yawned. You glared at your twin brother through half-hooded eyes.

Jungwoo buried his face in his palms for a while, before suddenly reaching into his bag for his phone. He unlocks it and begins typing. You raise your brow. Probably texting someone for answers.

"I'm texting someone I know to come over to help me out with this question. Not asking for answers, in case you were wondering," Jungwoo declared without even looking at you. You roll your eyes.

It hadn't been five minutes before you noticed some girls sitting at the corner of the L-shaped library look up, their eyes lighting up as someone important entered the library.

God, it's Jungwoo's popular boy group.

Dong Young, Taeyong, Jaehyun and Mark turned up. You were Mark's freshmen orientation camp facilitator so he always found some reason to irritate you despite being younger than you.

"Which question is it?" Dong Young immediately grabbed a chair and plopped himself next to Jungwoo. Taeyong took a seat in the far corner, Mark next to you and Jaehyun next to him.

"Well, well, well," Mark teasingly looked over at your progress. You scoffed and instinctively shoved his head away from you. Jungwoo started explaining the difficulty of the question to Dong Young while Mark was just busy annoying the hell out of you.

"Ah... that's why," Jungwoo took the notepad back from Dong Young who was writing out the workings and explaining the concept to him simultaneously. "Dude, we're both idiots," Your brother hurled an eraser at you.

"I know we're both idiots—” You snapped in return, throwing the eraser back at him.

You and Jungwoo finished your worksheets before expected time with Dongyoung's help. Girls looked over at you with jealousy and spite, wishing that they could've been in your shoes instead: the twin sister of one of the most popular guys in school. Though you weren't close with the guys, you sure saw way more of them at your place when they came over to hang out with Jungwoo. You and Mark could click as friends, and that was a bonus point to get you into this sacred circle you honestly didn't have any interest in.

"Come on, we're supposed to get dinner," Dongyoung patted Jungwoo on his back, patting down the creases on his pants as he stood up. Jungwoo did a little "oh", before sweeping all his stationery into his bag and leaving you at the table, your things still sprawled out. Dongyoung watched as the rest of the guys started packing up too, noticing that you hadn't moved an inch and instead pulled out a textbook of a different subject.

Fast forward two months later, you were done with exams. But neither you nor Jungwoo did as well as your tutor, Dong Young, had expected the both of you to do. You found yourself quickly avoiding Dong Young and rushing home after soccer practice, not bothering to update him on the grade you received.

"Yah," You felt a pillow ram down into your side. You groaned and opened your eyes, turning over to notice him standing over you. Your eyes registered the walls and ceiling of your room, and some of your hair was stuck in your mouth. Then, you registered Dong Young’s face.

"Oh my God," You grabbed the pillow he hit you with and covered your face. What the Hell is he doing in my room in the morning—

"You got a C for your math paper?" Dongyoung's voice was strict.

"I've been hearing this all day yesterday in school, I was surprised you didn't kick down my door last night—"

"I'm never gonna know anything if you and Jungwoo continuously hide your grades from me. What good am I of a math tutor if the both of you don't improve?"

“You are a good math tutor! We’re just… learning it at an... exponentially slow rate..." You mutter under the pillow.

"That's not even the proper way of using 'exponentially' in a sentence. Come on, get up," Dongyoung pulled away the pillow and picked up your plushie that you kicked to the floor.

"What? Get up to go where and do what? Finals just ended, let me catch up on my sleep," You whined, this time pulling the blanket over your head.

"Your mom told me you knocked out at 9pm last night and it's 11am now, so for the record, you knocked out for 13 hours. I think that's enough sleep you've gotten in the last 24 hours," Dongyoung pulled the blanket away from your face, sitting at the edge of the bed.

"Oh Lord, the numbers that are spewing out of your mouth—"

Dongyoung sighed and rolled his eyes, looking down at you with his rabbit doe eyes.

"Okay then, treat it like you're doing it for me? Pretend it's our date you're going out for."

"No, you're going to lecture me on our—wait, what?"

"No, I'm not. Jeez, am I such a bad date that you think I would yap about your math grade all day?"

You blinked and watched him turn away to leave the room. A frown had formed on your forehead, and you were unsure if you misunderstood him, or you were simply hallucinating. Shaking your head, you rubbed your eyes and sat up in bed, stacking the pillows atop each other nicely and folding your blanket.

What is Dongyoung doing here? It’s not like he had a tutor session with you or Jungwoo.

You were dressed casually in a large tee and jean shorts, your hair tied up messily in a bun. The kitchen came into view, and Dongyoung looked like he was ready to smack Jungwoo with a plate. Your mother was laughing while she flipped pancakes, agreeing with Jungwoo on something he said. You don’t remember the last time you had breakfast with your brother and mother around, much less Dongyoung.

“Do I want to know what I missed out and why he’s ready to kill your son?” You directed the question at your mother and grabbed a seat between Jungwoo and Dongyoung, using your hands and digging your fingers into the crowns of their hairs to push them apart.

“Oh, I think that’s for you to find out on your own, sweetie,” Your mother turned with a plate of freshly flipped pancakes, and there was a glimmer in her eyes that you hadn’t seen in a while. They almost looked… mischievous…

You frown at her strange, strange reaction that you not only found unfamiliar, but unsettling for some reason—

“Dongyoung hyung likes you!”

Everybody freezes. Your mother blinked at you, then at Jungwoo, and bit down on her bottom lip when her eyes finally travelled to Dongyoung. She awkwardly moved back to the stove and the sink, ignoring the extremely tense and awkward atmosphere behind her. You turn your head painfully slowly to look at Dongyoung, locking eyes with him for a second. They were so soft and gentle, unlike the look he had when he was teaching you or Jungwoo. You could’ve sworn he blushed, but he quickly snapped out of it by moving away from your hand that was still in his hair and nearly pounced on Jungwoo.

“That felt really good—” Jungwoo was shielding his head from Dongyoung’s rampage, nearly falling off the stool.

“You! I can’t believe this—” Dongyoung exasperatedly huffed, his hair messy from your pushing and arms slightly red from trying to beat up Jungwoo.

All this was happening but nothing was happening in your head. You still couldn’t process this. Was this a prank? Just so Jungwoo could poke fun at the both of you? Was it true? Was this why Dongyoung said that you were going on a date?

“What are you doing here, Dongyoung?” You carefully asked, looking at Dongyoung like you were scared of what he might say afterwards. The question obviously caught everybody by surprise, because it looked like another freeze frame. The water at the sink your mother was standing by was the only sound in the kitchen. Jungwoo was cautiously scanning Dongyoung, trying to read his expression because Dongyoung was now back-facing you after going crazy on Jungwoo.

Dongyoung had his lips sucked between his teeth and he turned around and shyly locked eyes with you. The eye contact didn’t last very long though.

“I… I came to ask for permission from your mom… and this idiot…” He glares back, over his shoulder, at Jungwoo. He sighed heavily and looked like he was bracing himself. “To ask you out.”

“Good God!” Jungwoo exclaims and buries his head in his hands. You weren’t sure if he was elated or distraught. He suddenly stands up, and the impact pushes the stool outwards at least a metre, the sound of the stool’s legs dragging against the floor scares you a little. “After one whole year! You finally got it off your chest!”

One… one year?

Dongyoung had his head hung low, and his eyes plastered to the floor like it was made of gold.

“Come here, y/n,” Jungwoo walks around Dongyoung and reaches to you, pulling you towards his chest and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “You can choose to break his heart and say no, or you could say yes and let him take you out on a date. It doesn’t matter. Hyung and I had a deal that if he shut down, like he is doing right now, I’d be the one to tell you this.”

You frown at your brother and lean the opposite direction, feeling squirmish at the physical contact. Most of the time, the only physical contact between you and your brother was when you were beating him up over something dumb he did.

“Hey, Earth to y/n?” Jungwoo waved an open palm before your eyes.

“I heard you, whackass,” You nearly growled, slapping his hand away. You turned your attention back to Dongyoung, who now looked frozen in place, like he had just looked Medusa in the eye and turned to stone. You writhe away from Jungwoo, only now noticing your mother wasn’t in the kitchen anymore, and approached Dongyoung. He was a little shorter than Jungwoo, so looking up at that angle to meet his eyes weren’t very difficult.

What was difficult was realising that he reciprocated your feelings all this while. The two of you were just too dumb to notice anything. Either that, or the both of you were great at masking your feelings.

Had it been Mark who was in your room and saw you fresh out of bed, you would’ve killed him on the spot. But it was Dongyoung, and you were only worried about how shitty you looked in the morning.

“I… don’t know what to say…” You begin, unsure about how to approach the situation. Do you tell him that you gradually fell for him while he was teaching you? Do you tell him that you would totally agree to a date?

“It’s okay, y/n,” Dongyoung finally speaks and shakes his head. “I don’t want you to feel pressured. Jungwoo and the others just wanted me to get it out of my system, so… well, you know. If you say no, at least it wouldn’t hurt as much as if I waited another year to do s—”

“Yes.”

You bit down on your bottom lip, only now realising what you blurted out. You hurriedly covered your mouth, like you said something wrong. Dongyoung’s eyes were blinking non-stop, and Jungwoo’s eyes were widening to a size you never knew was possible.

“Omo,” Jungwoo pressed his own cheeks together and screamed while running out of the kitchen. “UMMA! Y/N SAID YES!”

Dongyoung’s eyes were now wide, and it was the same look he had when you or Jungwoo were too dumb to understand an easy question.

“I’m sorry,” Dongyoung finally breaks the silence by providing an awkward chuckle. He rubs the back of his neck and breaks the eye contact, looking away to catch his breath before looking at you again. “Did I… we… did you say yes?”

You slowly nodding, feeling your heart race in your chest. Your palms were sweating and you could start to feel your neck turn sore from the angle you had to tilt to see his face.

Dongyoung burst out into small giggles, rubbing his face and leaving his palm on his cheek, now looking at you with curious eyes.

“Is it rude to ask if you said yes because you feel the same… or that you didn’t want to hurt my feelings?”

You gulped and licked your lips. You were ready to keep your feelings to yourself because being Jungwoo’s sister already brought you unwarranted attention. Had you confessed to Dongyoung earlier, being ridiculed by most of the female student population wasn’t a nightmare too unrealistic. But now that this happened…

“I feel the same,” You respond quietly, looking at your feet because you could already feel the blood rush up to your cheeks and ears. “Ever since you started tutoring Jungwoo and me, I was already… feeling things.”

Silence.

You felt someone’s hand press into your hair, gently rubbing his fingers into your head. Dongyoung had never touched you before, because he was always the prim and proper nice guy of the group, so realising that this touch was unfamiliar only confirmed that Dongyoung was the one patting your head.

“Well, I’m glad it worked out, and I’m glad they coerced me into doing this. If not, neither of us would’ve known,” Dongyoung’s free hand reached for your chin and tilted it upwards, making sure that your eyes were now looking into his. He pulled both his hands away, suddenly realising the bold moves he was making on you.

“So, y/n,” He finally grins comfortably, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Where do you want to go for our first date?”

#timetohajima #doyoung fanfic #doyoung scenario #doyoung imagine #doyoung one shot #nct one shot #nct doyoung #doyoung #dongyoung #kim doyoung #nct #nct imagine #fluff #crush #tutor

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disaster-bay-leaf · 4 years ago

Note

Ok so these were the cutest~ (ㆁωㆁ)

4, 6, 7, 9, 12, 19, 22, 23, 28, 33, 34, 46, 47, 52, 59, 60, 63, 66, 83, 87, 88, 93, 99

I kno I listed like....all of them lmao but feel free to answer whichever you want and ofc you can ask me in return Baybe ( ◜‿◝ )♡

uHUHUHUHU much content for me to answer, im happy bebe 💜💜💜✨

4 - how do you take your coffee/tea?

hm coffee either Very Black No Sugar (for the sleep deprived me) or iced latte three sugars and theres no in between

and as for tea its All Black Teas That Exist, cinnamon-flavoured especially (but basically all teas that come to mind when u think “autumn”), and rooibos!!! okay basically the only oke i dont like is any type of green tea (which is sad because they look cool but my tastebuds said ✨no✨)

6 - do you keep plants?

honestly id l o v e too because i love plants but,,, im kinda horrible at taking care of them though still way better than the majority of my family (research helps) so the only plant i own is kinda a small-palm-tree-looking thing in a bigass glass jar that i saved from my mother’s plant-destructing hands and its mostly doing well (the ends of its leaves are starting to be yellow tho and im worried:((( )

7 - do you name your plants?

yes!!! though the current one was named by my sister and its called “pickett” after fantastic beasts shsjjsj

9 - do you like singing/humming to yourself?

oh god oh dude you have n o idea

i have absolutely n o singing voice but its something i do constantly to give my brain the right amount of stimuli so basically i listen to music 24/7 and hum to myself 99% of that time

12 - whats your favourite planet?

oh i actually didnt think about this for so long but either pluto (hes a planet screw nasa) or saturn (RINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) or venus (girls,,,and libra,,,)

19 - do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw in it?

okay im gonna be completely honest with yall and say that my every single try at keeping a journal failed spectacularly and i lost motivation after like a few months so my only journals rn are my fancy fake-leather-bound calendar to note tests and assessments into, a kinda roughed up notebook that i uses for noting down poems or scribbling or passing notes in class, and a kinda fancy bullet journal notebook that i used as a book of shadows for a while but since my fountain pen died i didnt touch it

22 - are you a morning person?

n o

i am so not a morning person but i wish i could be because honestly dawns are beautiful

but as it is rn im either sleep deprived all the time and loathe every second of being in an awake state or (if i have a few days of schoolbreak) my biological clock moves forward a few hours and i sleep 2am-10am

23 - whats your favourite thing to do on lazy days with zero obligations?

except for the fact that i dont remember the last time it happened, i would probably spend it drawing outside, watching anime with my sister and riding a bike around the forest

28 - sunrise or sunset?

i love sunrises because its so peaceful and everyone is asleep but also i subconsciously immediately correlate them with waiting for a train to take me to school (because thats basically the only time i see them) so its a bittersweet love especially with my fucked up biological clock

but sunsets are really really pretty too and i see them more often so i cant choose

33 - whats your fave pastry?

and isnt that a millior-dollar question dhsjjsjsj

either cinnamon rolls (i absolutely adore them) or that one specific type of cupcake-shaped-thing made out of shortcrust/bread/whatever its called and filled with vanilla pudding

34 - tell us about a stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

awwww this is cute

okay so basically my two favourite stuffed animals (i still have them, they sit in my wardrobe) were two teddy bears (like maybe 20cm high each of them) and one was pure brown and the other was silver-brown and they had stereotypical polish male names “Waldek” (read. Valdek) and Stefan (i think tho im not sure if i remember correctly, my memory is a feeble thing sometimes

46 - tell us the worst pun you can think of

what dog would never bite you? a hot dog *badumtss*

47 - what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

huh a year ago id say pineapple pizza but i guess i dont hate pineapples that much anymore (tho putting them on pizza is still an abomination) but i think that if id ever want to get rid of anything it would be parsley, i hate that freakin herb (does it count as food tho)

52 - what are your favourite memes of the year so far?

the ever given for sure shsjshjsjsjsjjsj

but bullying tramp stamps is gold and pure tumblr energy too

as for fandom memes: im in love with all keeping-up-with-the-todorokis variations and the fact that the entire bsd fandom looked at fukuchi and said “biTCH” and thats one of the only things we’re unanimous about

59 - whats your favourite myth?

i always liked the kora/persephone myth (though demeter is an overbearing parent to the nth power), loki and thor crossdressing at a party to get mjolnir back, atalanta because shes a queen and id politely ask her to kick my ass, and cassandra because she deserved better, and theres a l o t more because alas i was a mythology nerd but this post is long enough for me not to make this section 20 times longer sjjsjsjsjsjks

but there are a lot of slavic myths that are very cool too, though we dont know that much about them as about the greeks for example

60 - do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

o o o o h yeah i do like poetry because to create such a beautifully sounding thing with only words someone has to be a genius

some of my favs are: some works of nakahara chuuya (thank u bsd for introducing me to this man’s beautiful imagery in his works i swear to god the descriptions do it for me) (also his poem about having hangovers is a mood like i feel you buddy), the raven by ea poe (i know everyone likes it but hOLY DAMN THE INTER/INTRAVERSE RHYMES ARE LIKE,,, BREATHTAKING) (and aso im a slut for gothic horror), and many more but also That One Poem From Welcome To Nightvale about reaching the island in the west,,, only perfect vibes from it

63 - are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organised or kinda leave them be?

okay heres the thing. for anyone else both my playlist library and my bookshelf would be considered pure chaos of a mad man b u t they actually have a highly focused system which means that i sort them based on their vibes, lovability and (in case of books) their age and whether or not theyre a part of a series so i would say my bookshelf is rather organised (when a quarter of it isnt occupying my desk that is) and my music is more organised than not but sometimes it gets out of control and i have to sort it entirely again

66 - what would your ideal flower crown look like?

either entirely constructed of simple white daisies, entirely constructed of only white roses, or something that probably would win a “how many different coloured flowers can one fit in a flower crown” competition

or something purple (maybe not belladonna)

83 - whats some of your favourite album art?

god i dont know if it counts but hozier’s wasteland baby is probably one of my absolute favourites and no one shall beat that

“thrifted youth” (dalynn) and “standard deviation” (danny schmidt) have very aesthetic covers too

also the iconic p!atd too weird to live, too rare to die! album cover,,, its just iconic what can i say

and last but not least matt meason’s pink-and-black album covers (though bank on the funeral is really pretty too but like,,, “who killed matt meason” d o e s it for me and so does the 2017 tribulation single)

87 - what are some movies that you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

this is such a hard question because im not a really cinematography-oriented gal but i suppose that (at the risk of not going deep enough into the cinema world):

- the princess bride

- inception

- night at the museum

- SPIRITED AWAY

- forrest gump

- truman show

- E.T. (i cried okay)

- the lord of the rings (because damn me if this isnt one impressive adaptation)

- parasite

and one more personal recommendation: “ready or not” with samara weaving because goddamn i dont usually watch this genre but holy s h i t is it good

93 - whats the hairstyle you wear the most?

honestly just plain hair down (because having curly hair is a menace), split in the middle when i have longer hair and split on one side when its short

also low ponytails or half-up-half-down when im exercising, or double french braids when my hair doesnt cooperate enough to look presentable in any other form

99 - list some songs that resonate with your soul whenever you hear them

this is difficult because my music taste is a goddamn rollercoaster on a good day, but heres some:

- me and the sky from “come from away” musical (this is sort of a test song for my mental stability, if i cry i aint stable)

- dancing after death by matt meason (okay most songs by matt meason except for like,,, hallucinogenics maybe)

- tears and rain by james blunt

- i will follow you into the dark by death cab for cutie

- almost home by mxmtoon

- anything by hozier really but shrike especially

- payphone, the cover by alex g (i cried to this song so many times)

- burning pile by mother mother (can i roast all my problems please)

- long way from home and cleopatra by the lumineers

- autoclave by the mountain goats

oooh that was c o o o o o o o l as fuck thank you sm so much bebe (and sorry for the long post @everyone else)

#smadhuman being pure af #bay answers #long post #very long post #ask #asks

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starseternalnighttriumphant · 5 years ago

Note

“Finger painting with little one.” For Rowaelin babies pls ❤️

NOTE: if you don’t know know how to pronounce the name it’s pronounced Seh-sih-lee and the nickname is Seh-see. If that helps? Idk LMAO

“I think this looks nice,” Aelin cooed to the babbling toddler in her lap. “Do you think Daddy is gonna like it?”

“Yes!”

Aelin laughed and dipped her finger in some blue paint, spreading it across her canvas. She was about to blend it when Cecily smacked her yellow-covered hands across the would-be sky, smearing it until the blue was replaced with a snot green color. She sighed.

“I guess the sky can be whatever color you want it to be, little love,” Aelin murmured, dropping a kiss to her daughter’s silvery-blonde hair.

Aelin then started painting little flowers while Cecily furrowed her brow and began her own renditions of shapes. They’d been learning them all week and so far the three year old was only good at drawing circles and misshapen triangles. But it was progress.

“Why don’t we write our names, hm?” Aelin asked her.

The little blonde nodded and Aelin first wrote out “Mommy” before dipping Cecily’s finger in black paint and guiding it onto their canvas.

“C...E...C...I...L...Y,” Aelin spelled out as her daughter watched her mother move her small chubby finger. “Cecily!”

“Cecy!” The toddler giggled, clapping her hands.

“Yes, Cecy my little golden girl,” Aelin laughed, attacking the child’s cheeks with kisses as the pair laughed together.

“Now, how about we do our handprints?” Aelin covered her hand in forest green paint and placed it on the flat surface. She did the same for Cecily and the two admired the hands for a moment.

Their survey was broken by the sound of her husband calling her name from downstairs. She shouted back to alert him of their whereabouts and continued to paint with her daughter, random little squiggles and little animal faces.

“What, in the gods’ names, are you doing?” came Rowan’s drawl, his voice a mixture of surprise, laughter, and exasperation.

“We’re finger-painting, Rowan,” she explained, looking up at her husband and sticking her tongue out at him.

He raised a brow. “On the wall?”

Aelin turned back to where the section of the wall was covered in various drawings of various colors. She shrugged.

“Well, by the time I found out our daughter was being a little too quiet, it was already too late. But she looked so focused and determined I didn’t have the heart to yell at her.”

Rowan sighed, kneeling next to her and pinching their daughter’s cheek playfully. “I guess it can be covered up later on down the road.”

“Daddy!” Cecily beamed, finally looking up from her art and acknowledging Rowan’s presence. “Hand!”

He just shook his head and smiled indulgently at the little girl, covering his hand in the same green paint and placing it next to where Aelin had left her handprint.

“There,” Aelin announced, satisfied. “Now the painting is complete.”

Rowan shook his head again, leaning in to give his wife a long kiss. “What am I going to do with you two?”

@highqueenofelfhame @empire-of-wildfire @kandasboi @schmlip-scribble @city-of-fae @westofmoon @tangledraysofsunshine @shyvioletcat @clockworkgraystairs @alifletcher2012 @anabelkay @whiskeybusiness1776 @danieldesario @lorcansalvaterree

#rowaelin prompt

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svnthxsense · 5 years ago

Text

Genre/Rating: Fluff/smut ; M

Warnings: Fem reader, cursing, light choking, slight corruption (?), slight praise, oral, tiny bit of slow burn

Word Count: 9.8k i’m sorry

Author’s Note: I got very carried away... Anyways, Happy Mark Day! This oneshot is a standalone in my Neo Tech High School series and is loosely based off of the first verse & chorus of Shot Clock by Ella Mai. Please send in any feedback! Also, my apologies if the Keep Reading function doesn’t work on mobile but I can’t do much about it T-T

It was mid-March when news broke in your school that a tier-1 athlete had transferred in. Everyone was swarming with curiosity all for a certain Mark Lee. Most of the gossip came from the guys, who bantered about his stats as a starting point-guard and argued about whether or not he’d make a good addition to the school’s beloved team. The girls, of course, were looking forward to a fresh face on campus. You couldn’t help but be curious, too.

After a week of anticipation, people were stunned to see the actual image of the mysterious basketball player. He was attractive at the absolute least. Then there was something that neither you nor your peers expected: he was the shyest, most awkward boy you had met in a while. How was it that the star basketball player who was always in the spotlight happened to be socially awkward?

You were surprised to discover that you two had a lot of classes together, and you’d be lying if you said you never stared. It didn’t help that he always came into math class with basketball shorts and a tank top on, his skin lightly glistening with sweat even after his brief post-gym shower. His hair was tousled, yet he managed to make it work like no other. It was a sight that made your mouth water and your mind fill with less-than decent thoughts.

It was only halfway through his first week of school when Mark had gotten called into the principal's office in the middle of third period. And then you were called in- not even five minutes after.

“Good morning, Principal Yoon,” You greeted her politely, taking the only other seat left in the room right next to Mark. You felt his eyes on you but decided against looking back at the nerve-wracked boy. Every time you saw him, you seemed to have a new fantasy about things you’d love to do to him. Was it wrong to fantasize about what his hands could do other than dribble a basketball?

“Good morning, Y/N.” She sat down in her leather office chair, scooting along until she found a comfortable position. Her tone was firm yet extremely polite. Most principals were intimidating and loathed by students, while Principal Yoon was approachable and kind. The students of Neo Tech adored her and her methods of running the school.

“Good morning, Mark. I’m sure you’re both wondering why I called you in, and I can assure you that it’s nothing of concern.” She held a manila colored folder in one hand before opening it and examining the paper in front of her. The both of you sat a bit uneasily, wondering what could’ve possibly landed you in this predicament.

“Mr. Lee, your basketball skills are outstanding.” Immediately, Mark began rambling about his appreciation for her comment until her voice interrupted him. “Yes, well, the reason I called you both in has to do with that actually… You see, Mark, your last school was a bit behind in comparison to our curriculum here, and without the proper grades you won’t be able to be an active team member.”

Mark could’ve sworn he heard his heart drop. The whole reason he transferred to your school was that his tier-1 team was becoming mediocre at best. In order to stay on track with his plan of obtaining an athletic scholarship, he needed to choose the best of the best. And that’s what led him to your school, which currently holds the number one spot in the nation amongst all the tier-1 teams.

“That’s why I’ve brought Y/N in as well. It was brought to my attention that you two share more than half your classes together, and I’m well aware of how advanced she is in all subjects. So, to put it frankly, I’m going to suggest that you two become acquaintances. Of course, the final decision would be up to Y/N, but I’m hoping that both of you might benefit from this opportunity.”

Mark couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed about how Principal Yoon pressed the issue. It was bad enough that his old school had a less advanced curriculum; and to make matters worse, his tutor just had to be the prettiest girl he’s seen. The way you dressed, especially, drove him crazy. Your sheer black tights underneath your plaid skirt, with your skin-tight, off-the-shoulder top that exposed your collarbones. He gulped at the very thought of what was underneath those clothes. How was he supposed to focus when he wanted to study his tutor more than the material?

“I would be happy to help,” You answered, mindlessly sneaking a glance at the boy next to you. His gaze seemed to be set on the ground, looking at anything but you. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to add ‘tutor’ to my resume.”

Principal Yoon smiled in response, setting the folder down on her desk before gently lifting her glasses off her face. She was pretty young to be a principal, couldn’t be a day over thirty. It was one of the things that made her so approachable, she seemed to sympathize with the lives of students because she was in their place not too long ago.

“Well, then it’s settled.”

You strained yourself trying to hide the smirk forming on your face, finally allowing yourself to steal a look at the golden boy once again. He seemed flustered, as per usual, and still didn’t dare to look you in the eye. He seemed so innocent, yet so ready to be corrupted. The excitement bubbled deep within your stomach at the thought of how much time you’d really need to spend with him in order to get him caught up. And boy did you hope you had extra time for other activities.

Without a word, you rose from your seat to offer a ‘goodbye’ to your principal and sauntered out of her office. Mark fumbled to get up, hurriedly saying goodbye to Principal Yoon before he rushed after you. At the sound of his footsteps, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. This will be fun.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You hummed in response, then turned on your heel to face him. He was breathing a little raggedly, but you knew it was from nerves because there was no way someone as athletic as him would be out-of-breath from a short jog.

“I- I was wondering when you’d be available…” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, trying his hardest to sound anything but stupid. You waited for him to go on as he stared back at you but quickly caught himself. “Y’know, for the tutoring.”

Your smile almost made his breath hitch but he ignored the pounding on his chest and found the courage to keep eye contact with you. He regretted it as soon as it happened because he damn-near whimpered at the beauty in front of him. Your lips, a faint rose color, were glossy and plump. He imagined how they’d feel pressed against his, and against other body parts alike.

“How about we do an evaluation of sorts at the library this afternoon? This way I can see how behind you are and how much time I’d need to get you in shape. I wouldn’t want you missing the opening game.” You winked, and Mark found himself gulping down nothing in another attempt to calm himself.

“Y-Yeah, that sounds good,” He replied and waited for you two walk away first because he couldn’t quite will his feet to move.

The end of the day seemed to have come much too quickly for Mark’s liking. Of course, he was itching at the chance to get to know you, but even he knew his nervous habits. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself in the midst of his first impression.

Mark made his way to the library like you had told him to, and he easily found you at one of the tables towards the back of the room. You had books laid out in front of you, with worksheets accompanying them.

“Hey, so I was thinking we could start by evaluating your trig skills and then get into some science. Does that sound good?” It felt like an eternity before you finally looked up to find him sitting directly across from you at the table. He nodded softly as you pushed over the first worksheet. While he diligently started scribbling across the paper, you had nothing to do other than watch him. You picked up on a few things in a short amount of time: math seemed to frustrate him. When faced with a particularly difficult problem, he would huff in annoyance. Nonetheless, he would complete it before moving onto the next one with a scrunched-up nose. It was incredibly cute and you couldn’t help the smile that found its way to your lips.

“Okay, I think I’m done.” He pushed the paper back to you before bringing his hands down into his lap, nervously toying with his fingers. He then brought his bottom lip in between his teeth, chewing delicately. You tried not to react, instead turning your attention to analyze his answers. Did he know what he was doing to you? After looking through all the questions, you tsked.

“Your trig teacher must’ve sucked.” You adjusted your sitting position so that the paper would be visible to the both of you. “For number four, you need to use the quadratic formula- which is X equals negative B plus or minus the square root of B squared minus 4 times A times C. Then you divide the whole thing by 2 times A.”

Mark tried to keep up with you as you explained, but his mind was way too focused on how good you looked while concentrating. On top of that, math was never his strong suit. He had always struggled since the moment variables were introduced into his lessons. Memorizing the quadratic formula was all too difficult when the explanation was coming from that pretty mouth of yours, he thought.

“B…? Wait where is the X comin-”

“Mark.” You interrupted, trying to the best of your ability to keep the smile creeping up on you at bay. The way his name rolled off your tongue so naturally enticed him. “I can already tell that you’re about two months behind with the trig curriculum. That alone will take me at least two weeks to catch you up on, and that’s if we meet practically every day.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Mark answers weakly, his eyes retreating down to the desk below him. Immediately, your demeanor softens at his vulnerability. “I know this probably isn’t how you’d like to spend your free time. I’ll find another way to catch up, I’m sure-”

“Hey. I said it would be a lot of work, I didn’t say I don’t want to tutor you. Luckily for you, I’m pretty much free this semester anyway. Now, the issue is if you are willing to put in the work.”

Oh, was he willing.

[two days later]

“So, after school at the cafe?” You ask, grabbing your books from your locker and securing them in one arm. The tutoring sessions would have to be extremely consistent to make any noticeable progress before the school’s opening games. They were a big deal within Neo Tech’s school community, and the pressure was on to see how the new point guard would compare to all the hype.

“Yeah, if that’s fine with you,” He murmurs before eyeing the small stack of books and papers cradled in your arm. Naturally, he feels the need to take that burden off your hands. After all, you would be the reason he even gets to play this season. Without you, it’s unlikely he would’ve caught up in time to make a good impression on Neo Tech and other schools alike. “Let me carry your books for you.”

“You don’t have to,” You insist, moving slightly so the books are a bit more out of reach. Mark pouts in response, leaning forward again in another attempt to grab the materials. He succeeds this time, his hand slipping around the stack and drawing them away from you. “Persistent, huh?”

“Guess you could say that.” He chuckles, wrapping the books in his arm just as you had done. This is the only plan he thought of to spend time with you outside of a studying environment, but he hopes you don’t notice these intentions. “We have class together anyway.”

“And where are your books?” You raise on eyebrow questioningly, beginning to walk with him beside you. History was never your favorite class, but you stayed on top of the work anyway. It was easier, you realized very early on, to get the work out of the way so you’d have more time for studying and other extracurricular activities.

“I leave them in my desk.” He shrugs, looking over to see you smiling widely. The baby pink color that takes over the apples of his cheeks is extremely obvious, but you don’t comment on it. Seeing Mark flustered is cute, you determined as soon as you had met him.

As the two of you walk through the large doorway of your history classroom, bubbly conversation fills the air. Your teacher, Miss Han, sits perched on her desk patiently. She was a nice lady, but it didn’t change the universal distaste for history among your class.

“Well, uh- I guess I’ll see you at the cafe.” Mark sets your books down on your usual desk quickly, scurrying to find his seat among some of the other basketball players that had this period with him. You recognize one of them as Hendery, a friendly acquaintance due to all the classes you two shared last year.

“I see you, Mark.” Hendery’s eyebrows raise in a teasing matter, shoulder bumping the boy next to him. Mark stares back at him, confused as to what he meant. “You carrying Y/N’s books.”

The explanation causes Mark’s blush to reappear, the heat becoming warmer and warmer upon his flesh. Hendery is one of the only guys on the team that he’s fairly close with, yet he still didn’t feel ready to tell him about his little crush.

“It was nothing, really. She’s tutoring me and I thought- why not?” He tries desperately to make his response seem nonchalant, but the act he puts on is no match for his flushed cheeks. Hendery, with one brow raised, eyes Mark’s cheeks. “Okay, maybe I think she’s kinda cute.”

“Bullshit! You like her!” He accuses in a whisper-shout type of voice. Mark groans in response, softly hitting his shoulder with a closed fist. A cackle leaves Hendery’s lips, his hand coming up to muffle the sound. “Dude, just ask her out! You’d be a very lucky guy.”

“I can’t just ask her out!” It comes out as a high-pitched shriek. “It’s not that simple. I mean, it is that simple. But what if she says no? Then I’ll have to deal with rejection and seeing her every day for our study sessions and-”

“Mark, you’re way too worried. Do you want me to talk to her? Find out some dirt? We had a few classes together last year-”

“N-No! That’s too obvious!” His voice sounds so exasperated by now, Hendery is afraid he’ll pass out. Talking with his hands is a nervous habit that happens when he’s rambling, and right now is no exception. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do, dude.”

“Better hurry before someone else beats you to it.” At this, Mark’s head snaps in Hendery’s direction. Before he can even formulate a proper response, Miss Han clears her throat and silence falls upon the whole classroom. Throughout the lesson, though, Hendery’s words echo in Mark’s head. What did he mean by that?

“One iced americano and one green tea please.” Mark pulls out his wallet before you have time to protest, and by the time your mouth opens to say something, his receipt is already printed. You didn’t expect him to order for you when he asked what you liked from this shop. Oblivious, he turns to you and stops in his tracks when he sees your surprised expression. “Huh?”

“You didn’t have to pay for me.” Your voice is firm but you’re grinning over at him, ignoring the way your whole body feels warm because of his display of generosity. Buying drinks shouldn’t be such a big deal, you remind yourself. “I owe you a lot now- carrying my books and now coffee.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugs, before examining the shop to find the best seats. He decides on the small table in the corner, shuffling towards the spot silently. Your brows furrow at his response, hoping for something a bit more engaging in terms of conversation but realizing that Mark wasn’t quite good at conversing in general. At least, around you, he didn’t seem to be.

The cafe became a regular stop before your tutoring sessions, the two of you eventually decide that the library was a better spot for studying. So, almost every day after school, you two would rush over there to pick up your usual orders before racing back to the library. Most of the private rooms filled up after dismissal, so you two always made it a point to manage your time efficiently. Coffee runs and then studying- that was your routine.

You had hoped to test the waters with some flirting, but your efforts seemed to go unnoticed. And when they didn’t, Mark would be a nervous wreck in response. You wondered if you should try your luck outside of your study sessions, but you didn’t have many opportunities since he sat nowhere near you during your shared classes. Study sessions and coffee runs seemed to be your only options.

On numerous occasion, Mark would slip his wallet out and pay for your coffee without a second thought. These events would result in a whole lot of whining on your part, always arguing that you should treat him once in a while too. He liked the idea of spoiling you, he wanted to say, though the invisible filter that was stuck in his throat never allowed him such a luxury.

Plus, the look on your face was equally as cute as your whines. Although you tried to be angry, the lopsided grin that always appeared made Mark’s stomach do flips. How was it possible to be that effortlessly pretty? It would take the nation’s top philosopher, Mark thought, to figure that one out.

“Mark!” You call, jogging over to his locker where he stands, putting his books away. He focuses on not being a clumsy mess then looks over at you, spending extra time admiring your all-black outfit: leggings and a v-neck. He forces his eyes not to travel south of your face, instead putting on a small smile. “I was wondering where you think we should study? The library is gonna be closed for a staff meeting today.”

Without thinking anything through, Mark immediately answers with, “Actually, my parents are out of town this week. We can study at mine if you want.”

Fuck. His eyes widen at his own words as soon as they come out. You can’t help but be surprised too, but your shock quickly turns into something much less decent. At this point, you’re dying to get your hands on him. You know that if you two have your study-session today, you’ll jump his bones the minute his hand so much as grazes yours.

“Oh, okay. Cool. So I’ll meet you after 8th,” You conclude with your voice sounding like pure honey to Mark. As you turn and walk away, Mark is unsurprisingly staring at your figure in those damn leggings. He wonders how much thought you put into your outfit, if you’re wearing it on purpose to torture him. He shakes the thoughts out of his head when he feels excitement course through his veins and towards the southern region of his body. No way is he going to get a boner now. Demanding his attention elsewhere, he rips his eyes away from you and tries to think of anything but how good your ass looks.

P.E. was always Mark’s favorite class. For most of his life, his Phys. Ed teachers had consistently been carefree and maybe a bit lazy. Their go-to lesson plan comprised of a few laps around the gym and then free-choice sports. Most of the girls opted for volleyball and badminton while almost every single boy could be found on the basketball court in the midst of a friendly scrimmage. Today is no different from the rest of those times.

Mark enjoys the friendly competition but easily leads his team to a win. He has gym with some of the other guys on Neo Tech’s basketball team, and it was easy to see how well he’d fit in with the pace of the other guys. At his old school, it always felt like he was being held back. He had to slow down his plays and examine the court thoroughly before he was able to make a proper judgment of his next move. With the Neo boys, everything seemed to come naturally.

He was able to gauge each player’s strengths and weaknesses fairly quickly too. For example, Hendery was a great shooter under pressure. When he gets boxed in by other defenders, that’s when his shooting is the most precise. So with that in mind, Mark always looks for Hendery when he notices that the opposing team’s defense is particularly aggressive that day. His judgments haven’t failed him thus far, with today’s scrimmage resulting in another win that should go down in the books.

Basketball was something that came easily to Mark his whole life. Talking to girls though? Not as much. He excelled on the court, took the lead and kept a risky attitude with unexpected plays and passes. He fits in well with Neo Tech’s strategy and game style. Plus, the guys on the Neo Tech basketball team were quick to befriend him and make him feel right at home. That is, of course, until he overhears one of his teammates, Lucas, talking to another teammate in the locker room as he begins to pack up his stuff after their particularly long scrimmage.

“Bro, are you really gonna shoot your shot with Y/N?” The other one- Xiaojun, he thinks- asks the taller boy. Lucas shrugs a little, folding his gym clothes neatly before placing the pile back in his locker. He’s not wearing a shirt, and Mark can’t hide the feeling of insecurity that seeps into his veins. Mark’s never been as built as that, but he never thought much of it until now.

“I mean, probably. She usually comes to our games, right?” He looks back at Xiaojun, eyebrows raised. The boy nods back slowly, a look of uncertainty on his face. “She’s so hot, especially in that one skirt she always wears.”

Mark’s jaw tenses and his whole body becomes rigid before he can calm himself down. He knows, in his mind, that he doesn’t technically have a right to feel possessive. He hasn’t made a move, so who was he to stop Lucas’s plans? This thought doesn’t stop him, however, from feeling the sudden urge to punch Lucas in his pretty face. It annoys him that all Lucas has to say about you is ‘She’s hot.’ To Mark, you were so much more.

He loves the way you insist on helping him and accept nothing less than 100% effort on work. He loves how you smile proudly at him when he finishes his worksheets with no errors, how you blush every time he pays for your coffee before a study session, how you always find a way to get something done if you commit to it, how you genuinely care about how his day went when no one else seems to ask. You’re more to him than a nice body in a short skirt. Much, much more.

Hendery notices his tense shoulders and pensive facial expression, quickly grabbing the shirt that was draped over his shoulder and sending a soft wack to Mark’s back. This seems to do the trick, his face softening when he realizes it was Hendery who hit him.

“Ignore them,” Hendery orders, folding the shirt in his hands and placing it back in his locker. He’s friends with both Lucas and Mark, but he can tell how much Mark likes you. Lucas’s crush would pass with time, it was a never-ending cycle with that one. “Lucas isn’t her type, trust me. And if you’re so worried, make your move.”

This time, Mark realizes that Hendery is all too right. He needs to do something-anything, before it’s too late.

Yet again, the end of the day comes too quickly for Mark to process. He blankly shuffles out of the lab room and is taken by surprise when he sees you leaning against the wall opposite the doorway. You push yourself off the wall when you spot him, and take into account how good he looks when he’s out of it. It makes you wonder how he’ll look when he’s all fucked out and-

“Ready?” Mark interrupts your thoughts. Instead of saying anything, because you don’t trust your voice at this point, you simply nod and begin pacing your walk so you’ll be shoulder-to-shoulder. Your shoulder brushes against his occasionally, but neither of you shows any sign of being bothered by it.

The car ride is full of thick tension and utter silence aside from the soft hum of the radio. Mark’s grip on the wheel is tighter than he’s used to but he can’t help it. He can feel your eyes on him, his skin beginning to warm underneath his usual basketball shorts and a loose tee. You study him shamelessly: the veins of his arms that bulge occasionally when he shifts the wheel one way and the other, his habit of biting his lower lip when the car in front of him drives too slow, and the simple things like the contour of his jawline.

He pulls into a driveway and you aren’t surprised by how lavish his house is. His mother and father are both high-ups in some big company, as Mark had put it. They take business trips often but still find time for their beloved son, while his older brother is away at the number one university in the country. One might ask why Mark needs an athletic scholarship if his parents have so much money. He thinks of it more as a pride thing. His father, before becoming a businessman, was also on an athletic scholarship for soccer. His older brother has one for baseball while he studies Marketing and International Finance. Sports scholarships were almost like a family heirloom for the Lee’s, along with a business degree.

He jumps out of his seat, closing the door behind him before rushing to the passenger side to open the door for you. Under normal circumstances, you might’ve blushed. But with Mark, you know you have to be the confident one between the both of you. No matter how flustered his smiles make you and how weak in the knees his deep voice makes you, you force yourself to put on a bold front.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Mark snorts as he leads you through the foyer to the carpet-clad staircase. Humble was one way to put it. The whole interior has a simple, all-white color scheme. Upholstered leather loveseats were positioned neatly down the halls, with minimalistic tables to match. You let yourself take in your surroundings as both of you walk through the maze of his house towards what you presume will be his bedroom. Your guess is right; he stops in front of a white-painted wooden door and opens it just a bit to peek inside and make sure nothing was out of place. He breathes a sigh of relief that he decided to move anything remotely embarrassing to his walk-in closet as soon as he started his new school. Opening the door wider so that you could enter, you step in hesitantly and watch a little too intently at Mark closing the door firmly behind him.

His room is somehow exactly how you pictured it; a light blue color paints the walls. His full-sized bed leans against one wall, with posters of his favorite movies hovering above the headboard.

“Shit, I just realized that my desk-” You glance behind you, seeing his computer which took up most of the space that the desk had to offer and the somewhat large gaming chair that was tucked comfortably underneath said desk. Almost thanking fate for throwing this curveball in your favor, you just smile reassuringly at him.

“It’s fine, Mark. We can study on your bed.” Mark’s eyes widen suddenly and you realize that you probably gave him too much to process at once. “Or the floor, that’s fine too.”

“N-No! I mean- whatever’s more comfortable,” He manages to stutter out. Mentally, Mark would have said something spicy just to see you blush. However, in reality, Mark just couldn’t muster up the courage to openly flirt like that. His lack of confidence had posed many obstacles for him over the years. It seemed the one place he was truly confident was on the court.

“Well, it’s your room so I’ll sit wherever you sit.”

He nods once before setting his backpack at the foot of the bed and jumping back onto the soft mattress. Scooting up towards the headboard, he waits for you to do the same. You ignore the excitement that bubbles knowing his eyes are on you, and take a seat next to him with your bag still in hand.

“So uh- what are we gonna start with today?” Mark tries so hard not to seem phased by having a girl like you in his bed, but his patience is wearing thin and he can only blame himself. Maybe if he just made a move…

“We always start with trig.” You furrow your brows in confusion because it’s become a set routine already. Trig was always first because that was the subject he was most behind in. English was obviously not a problem for him and in terms of science, he was just behind with lab work that he could complete in school. “Then, we brush up on some science. I don’t really think you need it, though. You’re almost caught up with your lab work.”

“Oh, yeah. Right, of course.” He has to physically focus on not rambling or he’d be a mess all over. Of course, you know this by now. And while his shy and awkward demeanor is definitely adorable, it also makes you hesitate to try anything with him. After all, what are the chances of the shy boy in front of you gripping you up only to have his way with you?

Mark begins working on the sheets you give him almost as soon as you hand them over, eager to complete the work and somehow finesse his way into spending more time with you. He was being dumb, Hendery would continuously tell him. He should just go for it, because with a tutor ‘as hot as Y/N,’ why wouldn’t he? His lack of confidence makes him want to pull his hair from the roots, but he resists the urge and silently completes the worksheets. He double-checks all of his work carefully so that no time will be wasted in going over stupid mistakes. With a sigh of relief, Mark hands the papers over to you and looks up at you nervously. You always look so stoic when analyzing his answers, it intimidates him yet also lights a spark of excitement at the same time.

“Well done. There were no errors, just make sure you remember to show your work because the question requires-”

“Y/N?” Your name slips out of his mouth before he realizes it. You fall silent, eyes lifting to meet his dark brown ones. “Um… Can we maybe t-take the day off? I think I’d rather be doing almost anything other than trig right now.”

You don’t expect this question, because he’s never asked for a break. It was always about him being up to date with the curriculum so he’d be able to be part of the starting five. What you also don’t expect is for his eyes to flicker, very briefly, to the exposed skin of your upper body. There’s only a bit of cleavage showing, and a peek of your collarbones visible from certain angles. Suddenly, you realize that the time for making a move is now. And you can’t pass up the opportunity.

“What did you have in mind?” Your voice dripping like honey in the air. Slowly, you push the papers and books away from you and they hit the carpeted floor with a light thud. Mark gulps, finding his mouth dry when his mind goes blank with what to say next. Come on, Mark. Keep it together.

Instead of saying anything that might ruin the moment, he simply mimics you and pushes the books off his lap and onto the floor. When he turns back to face you, he’s met with your challenging gaze and he can’t help himself as he leans towards you without any doubt in his mind.

Your noses brush against each other, his face so close that you could feel every minty breath he lets out. You know what’s about to happen, and you no longer have the patience to delay it any further. Mark’s hesitant ways, while sweet and gentlemanly, drive you to the brink of insanity. And so, with a deep breath, your hand lifts to pull his face to yours. Your lips softly press to his, letting him process the fact that you’re actually kissing him before you grow impatient. Feverishly, you move your mouth against his. Mark swears he’s in heaven when he slowly opens his mouth a bit wider and your tongue automatically swipes against his. He’s been waiting for this moment- to feel your lips against his, to taste you in more ways than one. He needs it all, right now.

“Y/N,” He separates from you to breathe out your name. You practically bite back a moan, humming in response while his hands grab your waist. You expect him to say something, but he just kisses you again with more confidence than before. As he slowly leans back against the headboard, you follow him absentmindedly, simply chasing the heat of his lips against yours. You’re straddling him now, his hands moving to grip your ass cheeks with greed. The force makes you roll your hips in response, grinding down onto him unintentionally which makes Mark’s breath hitch.

You experiment, repeating the movement and pulling away from him only to see his reaction. His eyes are focused on the movements of your hips above his, concentration straining his face. After flipping your hair to one side, you continue your slow torture and lean down to kiss the spot below his ear. With his hands firmly clasping around your hips, you suck at his supple skin and lick over the spot when you’re done. By now, his breathing is a little heavy and uneven as his erection pressed against your clothed core. You feel him against you, his basketball shorts doing little to conceal his excitement.

“You’re driving me crazy,” He whispers as he drops his head to the crook of your neck, his breath tickling you slightly. You relish in knowing that the feeling is mutual. With every huffed-out breath, every soft kiss on your skin, you only become more reassured that you want this- and it makes it all the more worth it knowing that he wants this too.

You break the kiss to rid yourself of your t-shirt, the material on your warm body frustrating you a bit more than you’d like to admit. As you meet his eyes again- they’re filled with a hunger that causes your stomach to clench and arousal to pool within the confines of your panties- you can’t help the absolute urgency you feel to make him putty in your hands. So instead of kissing him again, you play with the hem of his loose tee, letting your hands graze over the skin of his abdomen. He hesitates, remembering the locker room fiasco with Lucas and suddenly he feels that insecurity itching at his skin again. He isn’t extremely built, his athletic body on the more slender side, but you don’t mind at all.

From his demeanor, you can already deduce what’s bothering him. You press a sweet kiss to his lips, almost silently telling him that you liked him just as he is. A kilowatt smile lights up his face, and your cool hands against his heated skin make him grab at the material to discard it himself. He stares up at you, waiting for your next move because quite frankly, he likes you in control.

“These too,” You order, pointing at his basketball shorts. Mark is quick to shimmy them off of his body, leaving only his boxers to conceal the length of his cock from your eyesight, though the bulge is very much prominent. You debate whether or not to fuck him then and there, but decide that having him writhing from your mouth alone would satisfy you more.

With a quick motion, you bring your lips down to the skin above the waistband of his boxers. He twitches slightly at the contact, and then feels your nails gently rake against his sides. He’s much too sensitive to your touch, and it almost scares him. How could you have so much power over him? Maybe it’s the way your plump lips push against his skin so confidently, how your eyes find his without a second thought. He envies your confidence, but he also finds it unbelievably addicting to have such control taken away from him.

Mark isn’t a virgin. But he also isn’t very experienced. His past sexual encounters were vanilla, with him hesitantly taking control because his girlfriends always expected such. His first time was awkward at best, his hips didn’t quite know how to fluidly move nor did his tongue know how to expertly flick against hers. He did get a bit better as time went on, or so he likes to think. But he feels so foreign to sex with you.

It might be because you seem so opposite of him- in terms of how easily everything comes to you. However, he doesn’t find it in him to assume anything about your sex life, because he doesn’t particularly care. He ignores any thoughts of how many guys you’ve been with or if they’d be better than him, because as your hands slowly pull his boxers down, he’s content with knowing all you’re thinking about is him, at this moment.

You hum pleasantly at the sight of his length free from its confines, a small bead of precum ready to drip from the head. Much to your surprise, your mouth salivates on its own at the sight. You stroke him twice in your small hand, before your spit comes down on the side of his dick. He watches you in awe as you slide him into your mouth without hesitation, your tongue running along the underside of his length. A guttural groan emits from the awestruck boy before he can stop himself, much to his dismay. It would make you grin if your mouth wasn’t preoccupied.

You begin to slowly, tentatively bob your head up and down on him as your hand twists up to meet your mouth. You look at him expectantly for his response, and it doesn’t disappoint. His hands fly to your head, fingertips smoothing over your scalp while he sucks in a harsh breath. His mouth drops open soon after, the warm and slick tunnel of your mouth proving to be quite the pleaser.

He feels nervous under your stare once again, but he certainly can’t look away from the sight before him. With your plump, infamously glossy lips wrapped around the tip of his dick and your tongue sliding obscenely over the slit. He wants to memorize every detail of the picture painted for him, so he stares at you and forces himself not to look away. He sees everything: the way you blink slowly as you take him further into your mouth, the way you search his face for reassurance that you’re making him feel good, the way you twist your wrist in an almost tortuous way that feels so, so good.

“Fuck, I need to feel you.” He gently, regretfully pulls your head away from his crotch. Your mouth detaches from his cock with a quiet popping sound, a string of spit connecting his dick to your bottom lip. Your mouth is tinted red and a little swollen, a bit of spit still left on the side of your mouth. Even so, Mark still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

He decides that, eventually, he’ll ask you out. The turn of events today is unexpected and definitely not what he had in mind, but he’s in too deep to put a stop to it now. He wonders if he fucked up his chances by going along with this, if you’d reject him because of the irony of him asking you out after he’s had his way with you. He swallows the nervous feeling that is rooted deep in his chest and stems out to the entirety of his body, pushes it aside to deal with later.

You undress quicker than Mark can process his thoughts, and for the first time since you’ve met him, your confidence wavers. Confidence was always something that came and went for you- the brave front you had put on didn’t quite prepare you for feeling Mark’s hungry eyes all over every inch of your body.

“Y/N- you’re so beautiful.” He motions you to get on top of him again, and you comply shyly. He kisses your lips once, then your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder. All until you’re smiling so wide that you feel a pinch of pain in your cheeks. Mark Lee definitely owns your heart, no point in denial any more.

“W-Would you want to uh- ride me?” He stutters out clumsily, his hands finding purchase at his sides. This is why he likes that you take control. For one, it’s sexy as hell. For another, it gives him less room to be the nervous mess that he usually is.

At his question, your demeanor changes from a slightly nervous girl feeling so bare underneath his gaze to something even you didn’t know you had in you. You can feel your arousal as you slowly move closer to him, your thighs on either side of his. His boxers are still hanging just below his knees and he hurriedly kicks them off all the way.

“Condom?” You ask, eyes searching around his bedside but to no avail. Mark fumbles a bit, keeping one hand around your waist securely while the other rummages through the bottom drawer of his nightstand. After finally locating the box of condoms his mom insisted on giving him during freshman year, he pulls the foil packaging into sight. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly his hands make work to slide it securely over his length, but his desire is clouding his judgment more than he expected.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” His voice is a bit breathless as he carefully tucks some of your hair behind your ear. The action makes your face warm and quite possibly your heart. But you don’t admit that. Instead, you nod curtly before pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips. Without skipping a beat, you take hold of his cock and align it at your entrance. You run the head back and forth between your folds, but realize you’re only putting yourself through further cruelty with every second that passes with no relief to the throbbing of your core.

So without warning, you sink down on him at a painfully slow pace. Your slick folds welcome the stretch of his girth, the very feeling of him making you shiver with sensitivity. Mark looks down to where his dick is being swallowed by your core, finding it harder and harder to hold on to his sanity as you sink further down on him. You let out a soft, delicate moan when you feel him fill you up completely, and Mark swears he could cum just from hearing those angelic sounds. He then decides, if you two do this again, he’ll fuck you into his mattress until you’re crumbling at the seams because of him.

“Shit,” He mutters under his breath when you start bouncing on top of him. The sound of skin slapping against skin proves to be quite the soundtrack as you desperately grip his shoulders. You bite your lip in an attempt to muffle the screams of pleasure just aching to come out. Your moans come out in whimpers when Mark uses his thumb to draw figure 8’s on your clit. He’s biting his bottom lip, his facial muscles strained between a fucked-out state and a concentrated one.

“Such a good boy,” You muse lightly without even thinking. Your voice mumbling such praise causes Mark to gulp, and he’s strangely even more turned on. Then again, you’d been awakening emotions and sensations that Mark hasn’t quite felt before, didn’t even know were possible. On your side, you’ve never tried much dirty talk during sex, but for Mark, you were willing to try. You can tell he likes it by the way his grip on your hips tightens and his breathing becomes heavier. And so, as he pants and groans softly next to your ear, your pace turns merciless. You bounce on him with an unrelenting pace and he knows you won’t stop until he cums, hard.

“Oh fuck. Oh shit.” Profanities spill from his mouth, his eyes screwing shut intently at how good the friction between your folds was. He forces himself to continue rubbing circles into your clit, albeit a bit sloppy, but circles nonetheless. You’re only more motivated by his lewd sounds, feeling your walls clench even tighter around his throbbing cock. The sensation causes an idea to form in your head, and you decide that his reaction will be the most satisfying part.

“Feels so good. Are you close?” Innocence laces your voice as you grab his hand and guide it to one of your breasts. Watching as he instinctively grabs it greedily in his palm, you notice how hot his fingers look wrapped around your flesh which only fuels your idea. Mark nods eagerly at your question, his breathy pants coming out shorter, more frequent, and sinful enough to make your head spin.

Abruptly, you begin rolling your hips against him rather than bouncing, causing him to look up at you. Then, you grab his hand again and bring it to your throat, making him wrap his fingers around the width of your neck slowly. Mark’s mouth drops open a second time this afternoon, feeling his hand tenderly squeeze around your neck. Your breathing becomes a bit restricted, but not enough to cause any discomfort. The force only makes your eyes roll back, while Mark turns to putty underneath you. After a few seconds, he releases his hold and brings his hand down to knead your ass, whispering something about how good you feel. Despite his seeming increase of confidence, all that Mark is thinking about is the power trip he got from choking you. Holy fuck, did that really happen?

“Gonna cum now, baby?” You force the question out when you feel him begin to pulse inside of you, leaning down to suck on the skin where his shoulder and neck meet and then licking your way up to just below his ear. Gently and carefully, you take his earlobe between your teeth and pull away slowly. Mark, by now, is a writhing mess underneath you. He can no longer contain his sounds nor his desperation to climax, bucking his hips up to meet yours. The combination of his thumb running over your clit repeatedly and his dick hitting just the right spot has a white-hot pleasure burning through your entire body. “Mmph- Mark!”

“Fuck! I’m g- gonna cum,” He yelps when he hears you moan his name, his thumb’s movement over your clit becoming rougher, sloppier by the second. He gives up on trying to thrust up into you, instead letting you ride him with an almost animalistic nature. His face scrunches up, a choked groan falling from his open mouth as he feels his climax course through his entire body. His seed fills up the condom, the sensation of release so utterly euphoric that Mark isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this good. Your pace on his dick slows before coming to a complete stop, breathing heavily and feeling so out of it even without an orgasm.

“Lay down, beautiful,” He rasps out, moving from his position and running his hand along your thigh delicately. His half-lidded eyes meet yours before you obey his command, positioning yourself in the middle of the bed with your head resting comfortably on one of the pillows. Mark hovers over you, pressing affectionate kisses all over your upper body before traveling lower.

“I’ve never done this before,” Mark admits shyly, sucking on the skin of your inner thigh before repeating the action to the other one. As he licks a stripe up from your dripping core to your clit, you feel a shiver run all the way up your body. Noticing your reaction, he sucks your clit into his mouth and rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud. Your drawn out moan tells him he’s doing something right, so he continues to flick his tongue over the bundle of nerves while he looks up to see your face.

“Shit! More, p- please.” Your pleads leave his ears red and his mouth watering, his tongue moving to slide between your folds with a soft moan. The vibration combined with his tongue darting in and out of you languidly makes you see stars at this point. “Oh my god- are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

He chuckles lightly, seeing your brows furrow in concentration as he forces his tongue to fuck your core faster and faster. One of his hands comes down to rub over your clit, your juices creating a squelching noise every time his tongue moved inside of you. Mark swears he’s never felt more proud when your hand comes down to grip at his hair, pushing his face further into you just as your thighs clench around his head.

“You’re so wet,” Mark praises before going back to thrusting his tongue between your folds. The taste makes him hum, vibration spreading through your lower region and making you whimper in satisfaction. Mark’s a quick learner, you see, when he continues to hum and groan into your pussy as his finger circles your clit consistently. “Cum, baby.”

You give in to his command, letting yourself fall apart at the seams underneath his mouth. Your pussy throbs around his tongue as you ride out your orgasm, a moan caught in your throat as your mouth hangs open in an ‘O.’ Mark happily laps up your juices, diligently downing every last drop before collapsing on the mattress next to you.

“Wow,” He remarks in awe, peering at you through the corner of his eyes. You’re still trying to catch your breath, but you laugh lightheartedly anyway as you turn your body to face him. A few pieces of hair cling to your forehead, and he delicately pushes them away from your face before caressing the curve of your jaw.

“The game’s coming up,” You comment, your hand toying with the one that wasn’t touching your face. The game was so important to him, you couldn’t think of anything else you’d rather talk about in this moment. “Aren’t you excited?”

“Well, yeah of course. A little anxious, but I think that’s normal before a big game.” Basketball might be the one thing he could talk about without a nervous bone in his body. No stuttering, no confusion, just speaking his mind. “Do you like basketball?”

You nod in response, giggling at the face he makes that’s somewhere between surprised and overjoyed. Basketball was something you enjoyed watching and analyzing, especially since it was such a big thing for the students of Neo Tech. Most schools prided themselves on their football team, but not Neo. Basketball had always been like gold.

“What do you think of our starting five? Maybe you can tell me something I haven’t picked up on.”

“Hmm,” You start, fully prepared for the rant that’s about to happen. “Xiaojun is a pretty amazing shooting guard, he almost always knocks down shots whether he’s open or not. Ten can’t be matched when it comes to being a small forward. He’s quick as hell, and I see him use that to his advantage a lot when he’s trying to get open. Hendery- where do I even start? He’s so versatile when it comes to shooting, perimeter shots and jump shots- it doesn’t matter, he can make them all. And his defense skills are crazy, he’s fearless even up against bigger guys. I mean, I guess that’s normal among power forwards but-”

Mark zones out a bit as he prepares for you to talk about Lucas. What were you going to say? Would your eyes light up when talking about him? Would you gush about how good he was? He hopes not, especially not after what just happened.

“Lucas is a good choice for center. He’s tall, so it makes sense that he’s the best at rebounds. His shooting ability is fairly decent, but he needs work on his passing in my opinion.” He’s surprised to see that you keep your comments completely analytical, not even blinking an eye as you continue your commentary. If Mark liked you a lot before, hearing you talk about basketball has him on the verge of calling out for cupid.

“And you-” Mark’s ears twitch, his attention completely and utterly focused on you. Had you seen videos of him playing at his old school? He dreads the thought, knowing that he wasn’t playing to his full potential back then. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to see this Friday.”

“Is it too early to say ‘marry me?’“ He jokes, and both of you laugh. Secretly, though, you wish he had been more direct from the beginning. Seeing him with his newfound confidence is even more attractive than seeing him flustered. You wonder what today will bring of your relationship, but decide to wait and bring it up after his big game. He needs a clear head, and so do you if you want to see him perform to the best of his abilities on game night.

[game night]

You aren’t disappointed in the least bit, savoring every minute of the game and concentrating on how good Mark is. His position was always point guard, and now you understand why. He has a certain talent, it’s not technical. Sure, he’s a great shooter and he’s ruthless with defense. But more importantly, he facilitates the team in a way that makes all of the players better. He plays using their strengths, knowing exactly who to look for in any given situation rather than making himself the star.

He leads the team flawlessly, and you’re sure everyone feels it too. The momentum the five boys build up in the first half is too strong for the other team to compete with. By the time half-time is up, it’s clear that Neo Tech will come out on top. There’s a certain feeling lingering in the air as the coach switches out Ten and Hendery for Yangyang and Jungwoo. No matter what the coach does, who switches out, the outcome is secured.

Despite how certain victory is, it doesn’t stop everyone holding their breath as the shot clock winds down to its final seconds and Mark steps back to launch the ball into the air. Everyone is still as the ball seems to move in slow motion, a loud swoosh sound echoing throughout the gym seconds before the final buzzer blares, indicating the end of the game. The crowd is immediately on their feet and cheering, high-fiving and fist-bumping all around.

You’re sitting in the first few rows, so it’s easy to run out onto the court. The school’s sports reporters, Chenle and Jisung, are already holding the microphone towards Mark to record a post-game interview for tomorrow’s newsreel. They only get to ask a few questions, though, before Mark’s eyes are on you.

A bright, proud smile graces your face and Mark is sure he wants to see that same smile every day of his life. You’re standing a few feet away, facing him and the rest of the boys on the team. This reminds him of Lucas’s conversation in the locker room, and he knows that now is no time to be shy.

So, he answers one final question before brushing off the two boys and turning towards you. His walk is confident now, as if he’s done this millions of times before. Now, he stands with you toe-to-toe and he lets his arms wrap around your waist slowly.

If it’s even humanly possible, you push your body closer to his and drape your forearm over his shoulder. His eyes stare directly into yours, the shy boy long gone and replaced with the same courageous Mark that was on the court tonight.

“How’d I do?” He whispers as he leans his forehead against yours, his breath tickling your nose. Everyone on the team is watching, but it doesn’t bother either of you. Instead of answering, you grasp his jaw and press your lips against his. It doesn’t take long for him to respond, his mouth moving against yours slowly and affectionately. You pull away after a few moments, still beaming up at him.

“I guess you finally got together, huh?” Hendery smirks from his spot on the bench beside the two of you, and Mark laughs quietly. Though, Hendery’s statement reminds him that he never did ask you out. His brow quirks upwards when he meets your eyes, the silent question spelled out right in front of you.

“Yeah, we did.” Your answer is what he’s been dying to hear since the moment you walked into Principal Yoon’s office, and it feels even better knowing that he isn’t daydreaming this time. This is real, you returning his feelings- it’s all real. And Mark couldn’t be happier.

“I told you she liked Mark!” Xiaojun throws a victorious, high pitched scream at Lucas as they walk towards the locker room.

#nct #mark lee #nct scenarios #nct reactions #mark scenarios #mark imagines #nct imagines #nct smut #mark smut #nct fluff #mark fluff #neo tech high school series #happymarkday #nct 127 #nct dream

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mizunetzu · 4 years ago

Note

hey mark uhhh suck my dick that’s the request

no HAHAHA but I’m sure Iida will do it innnn *drum roll*

——————

Iida x reader - Iida Tenya’s Imaginary Boyfriend (pt.2)

⚠️warnings - none

Pronouns - male, he/him

Part one can be found here!

The true ending can be found here! (Pt.3)

——————

“Alright,” Kaitekina flipped open her sketchbook, setting it back down on the easel. “Who’s going to describe something to me?”

Everyone gestured at Iida.

“I apologize once more,” Iida scrunched up his fists in his lap. “I do not wish to-“

“C’mon, Iida!” Uraraka grasped onto the sleeve of Iida’s school blazer. “You’ve been sulking for a month about this ‘(L/n)-kun’ guy! You need some sort of comfort! Or better yet-closure!”

“I am completely fine! In fact, I see him every night, and that is enough for me! Now, I do not wish to be here, and I have nothing to describe!”

Everyone fell silent. Uraraka voice was barely above a whisper. “Every night..?”

Iida sat back down, bowing slightly in apology for yelling. He said nothing. Todoroki looked down, before looking at Iida.

“If you do this one thing, we’ll let you go and we’ll never speak about it again. Just this once and we’ll leave it at that.”

Iida thought for a moment. He absentmindedly picked at the metal frame of his watch with his thumb and forefinger. Just this once couldn’t hurt. How accurate can a drawing be?

“Fine.” Iida visibly relaxed. “Just this once.”

———

“So, are you describing a boy or a girl today?”

Kaitekina’s voice was smooth like butter. Her eyes, once a chocolate brown, delved pink, bright and demanding. It was probably a side effect to her quirk activating.

Iida’s lips turned up into the faintest of smiles. A sheepish one. “I’m describing my boyfriend...”

Uraraka and Midoryia choked back a shocked gasp, while Todoroki simply raised his eyebrows. Nonetheless, they gawked at Iida like he was crazy.

Kaitekina cooed. “D’aww...how long have you two been dating?”

“Almost 5 months now.” Iida seemed more calm than before. You could almost say he was happy finally talking about his baggage. He rubbed his thumb across the glass of his watch discreetly. Kaitekina looked away from her sketch to eye the dull red watch contained under Iida’s blazer.

“What’s that red thing you keep touching under your jacket? Is that a watch?”

Iida sat quiet for a moment, before pulling up his sleeve and raising his arm. There revealed a dirty, cheap red watch, cloudy but functional. He tugged at the strap, watching as it unraveled and tumbled down onto his lap.

“It was something my boyfriend wore everyday. He wore it everyday since the start of the school year. He said he’d always cherish it, so I’m...cherishing it for him.”

“This isn’t the original one he owned though, that one...disappeared. I bought this one to keep with me where ever I go.”

The woman hummed, taking note of something on a sticky note stuck to the edge of her easel. It was most likely details to add or emphasize in the portrait.

“Can you tell me like-the shape of his face?”

“Angelic.”

Iida didn’t say anything else after that. Kaitekina waited for him to go on.

“Oh-forgive me. Round face, and his hair was a (h/c)-ish shade. It was always kept rather short/long.”

“You keep saying ‘was’. Is he no longer with us?”

Iida narrowed his eyes. Uraraka, Midoryia, and Todoroki eagerly awaited his answer, not-so-subtly staring him down. “It’s...it’s difficult to explain. But in simpler terms, he isn’t here with me anymore. Or he never was. I cannot seem to tell anymore.”

Those last parts came out as a whisper. More like he was saying it to himself, rather than to the sketch artist infront of him.

“I’m...sorry.” Kaitekina stopped drawing for a second to offer her condolences. Iida shrugged.

“...I am too.”

“Um-can you describe his eyes for me?”

“It was a bright (e/c)-color.” Iida limply held up his arm, before letting it drop back down on his lap. “They were always kind of squinted, like he was always so carefree. It was one of the things I never understood about him. Beautiful, (e/c) eyes that would stare up at me like I was the world.”

She made a noise of acknowledgement, grabbing (h/c) and (e/c) pastels scattered across her desk. Scribbling down details with her hazey glowing eyes scanning the paper, she looked up again at Iida. “What about his smile-what did it look like when he was smiling?”

“I believe it was his default expression. His lips were on the thinner/thicker side, though he kept telling me he wanted them to be a bit thicker/thinner. And-they were always chapped. I always told him to put on chapstick.” Iida chuckled.

“If you had to choose one thing-and I know it’s hard, but what would you say you miss the most about him?”

Iida fell silent. He stared down at his fingers, halting temporarily. He opened his mouth numerous times to speak, but each time, no words came out.

“His ability to make me smile.”

He said nothing else. Kaitekina inhaled to speak, but let her mouth fall closed, focusing on her drawing once more.

“Can you tell me about him while I finish up?”

Iida nodded. Midoryia, Todoroki, and Uraraka turned towards him, waiting patiently. This was what they were waiting for.

Iida pushed his glasses up with his forefinger. “His name was (L/n)-kun. He went to our school, and actually sat next to me in class-but apparently no one...seemed to remember him. It’s like he disappeared. That, or my delusions delved to the point where I hallucinated a whole five-month relationship with a boy I see every night in my dreams. It’s made me look forward to going to bed. It’s the only thing I want to do these days.”

Iida thought for a moment, before continuing. “He was good friends with these 3 next to me. But they don’t seem to remember him either.”

“It’s alright, though. I’ve grown used to it. I’ll see him again tonight and I can live on with these memories alone.”

A heavy silence filled the small studio. Midoryia contemplated setting a hand on Iidas shoulder, but as he was about to, Kaitekina clasped her hands together.

“So, I believe I’m done. I hope I was able to capture at least a small part of this person you had such an amazing relationship with.” She picked up her sketchbook, walking around her desk towards the 4 kids seated on the couch. “Are you ready to see it?”

Part of Iida didn’t want to look at it. All of his logical beliefs told him people were giving this woman and her quirk too much credit. Besides, how could she possibly know what mountain of complexity (Y/n) held, and capture it into an unworthy piece of fine-tooth paper?

He nodded anyways. She flipped her book around, holding up the displayed page in the sunlight streaming through the window.

“This is what you described to me.”

There stood a charcoal sketch of a beautiful boy, smiling so gently and earnestly. His hand was resting again set his neck and shoulder, a dull red watch strapped tightly to his wrist. There were features Iida swore he never mentioned, like the crease near his left eye, or the dimple that lay just under his cheekbone.

What captured his attention most, was his eyes. It was only pastel, but it shone and demanded attention, even if his eyes were in his usual half-lidded stance. Bright, (e/c), gemstone eyes that Iida fell in love with. Honestly, he could gaze at this picture forever.

This was him. This was his (Y/n).

Uraraka gasped. “Ahhhh! Wow! It looks really good! Ne, is this accura...Iida? You alright..?” Midoryia and Todoroki tore their eyes off the illustration to check out what Uraraka was talking about.

Iida was staring, eyes slightly wide, at the drawing. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it; he didn’t want to. The drawing was more accurate than he’d like to admit. It was as if he was staring at (Y/n) himself.

He didn’t know tears were steaming down his face, until he felt small drops of water pelt down onto his lap. He removed his glasses shakily and wiped his eyes, doing his best not to take his eyes off the sketchbook.

“It’s-“ Iida’s voice cracked along with the seam of his heart. “It’s very accurate, you should be proud of the business you own, Miss.”

———

The stagnant air followed the UA students out of the building. Iida was stiffly walking straight ahead, doing his best not to look at the paper of (Y/n) folded in his pocket.

“Ne, Iida,” Iida hadn’t realized he was walking so far ahead until Uraraka had to jog up to him, followed by Midoryia and Todoroki. He hummed in acknowledgment.

“Do you feel better?”

There were two answers to this question. Yes and slowly but surely, yes. He was feeling better in the sense that he no longer had the urge to cry into his bedsheets, holding the piece of sketchbook paper firmly to his chest. He lost his dignity, and he found it again.

He was also feeling better in the sense that he finally got some sort of closure. Maybe this person isn’t real. And it’s ok. He has some sort of proof of his imaginary ‘friend’ that he can gaze at forever, instead of pitifully checking his wristwatch every 5 minutes, wishing it would go faster just so he wouldn’t accidentally forget how his face looked like.

It wasn’t healthy living day by day, waiting to fall asleep just so he could feel something again. A self imagined kiss on the cheek or just plain rest. He was willing to move on from that. It was time to start the ‘healing’ process. The drip finally stopped.

And he knew that if he got tired, if he was sad, or just needing some assistance, (Y/n) would be there waiting for him with open arms, welcoming him into his imaginary world again.

Though, he wasn’t sure if he really needed that right now.

He loosened the cheap red watch from his wrist, his head suddenly feeling empty and light.

“I’m feeling better. Thank you.”

——————

This is how this story really ends. Though, even I didn’t like it HAHAHA so I made a “true ending”. A sweeter ending without the bitter if u must LMAOO

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shittylongcatposts · 5 years ago

Text

The Intern

Why hello there ~ I thought of this today and couldn’t leave it be, so I wrote it out and thought you might enjoy it! Happy reading! Bonus points if you can guess who I am ;D

Honest to god, you had no idea what you were thinking signing up for an internship at C&R. You had little to no experience with almost anything that was going to be asked of you, your grades in corresponding classes were horrendous and on top of that you had about as much elegance as a battered plastic flamingo. And yet, for some odd reason, they actually approved you. Even though you did throw up into a trashcan handed to you by the head assistant at the interview. The thought made you cringe. Definitely not your proudest moment. Possibly one of your worst.

So here you stood, holding a bunch of files to your chest. Every so often you pulled on your ill fitting pencil skirt. Wherever you went, you could feel the gaze of the other employees on you. Most of the time, they were taking you in with a raised brow, or an amused smirk. Though it was already your third day, you had a very good idea how the next few months would play out. Behold, for your number one involuntary entertainer, Mc, stumbles through the office.

“What are you doing right now?” Surprised at the sudden touch on your shoulder you swung around, almost hitting the head assistant in the face with your files.

Her eyes wide the brunette woman took a couple steps back. As soon as you recognized her you broke out in a flood of apologies. Your overly nervous demeanour was answered with a smile, her warm eyes squinting lightly because of it. God. She had so much extra work because of you and yet she stayed patient. She must be an angel.

“I was just…well. Mr. Kim asked me to copy these files for him, but he doesn’t seem to be back yet."

Your explanation did not seem to be very clear to the woman. Her smile had faded to a questioning frown.

With a sigh, you hung your head:"I can’t remember where his table is…"

Despite your praise for her earlier, you could see her running pale at trying to not at least scold you for being so unattentive. It wasn’t like you learned everyone’s seat by heart. It was hard enough to remember the right names for the right faces. You pouted a bit under her gaze, when suddenly, the door to the office was swung open with full force.

“Assistant Kang.”

The deep voice sent a shiver down your spine and you could feel the atmosphere in the office shift completely. With long strides, none other than Jumin Han walked over to the two of you. Or rather, to his assistant. He didn’t pay any mind to you.

“I need you to cancel my meeting with that japanese business man.”

Jaehee mustered the tall man, her eyes filled with suspicion. “Why.”

Her voice was void of any emotion. You were pretty sure she did not mean to say it out loud. The CEO however didn’t seem to notice anything strange about her.

“Because I say so. I’m not interested in his business.”

“Mr Han. With all due respect,” she took a short pause, as if she meant to say more, then she continued “, I suggest you tell him that yourself. It would certainly benefit your….reputation.”

“May I remind you, my reputation in the business is flawless, assistant Kang. Call the meeting off. I’m not going.”

It was obvious that the woman had her own opinion on his claim. The silence between the two was deafening, until she hesitantly obliged. Jaehee nodded to herself as she took some notes on her clipboard. Pleased with the outcome, Jumin disappeared into his secluded office, closing the door behind him.

The interaction left you stunned. You couldn’t help but stare at the door he just walked into a moment ago. Right now, you really didn’t want to be in Jaehee’s shoes, but the prospect of ever getting to work with him filled you with giddy excitement. Though he would probably kick you out shortly after your first attempt. A girl may dream, but it was always good to keep your own reality in check. Or so you told yourself.

You had about a million questions burning on your tongue about working with him, but the assistant just pointed you to the table you were looking for earlier, before she hurried away to do as she was told.

A couple weeks had passed since your encounter with Jumin Han. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the mysterious man in the suit. Well, there was nothing much mysterious about him, not that you knew of anyway, but your curiosity was growing by the day. Since you were being shooed around the building most of the day however, your chances to actually get a glimpse were so low, the mere thought of getting to talk to him seemed absurd. Until a rather sickly office worker dropped some papers in your arms before leaving for the restroom. Poor fella.

A look at the papers however, made you forget all about the encounter. They were meant to be delivered to Jumin. ASAP, if the note scribbled in the corner was not just a hoax. This is it! Your chance! It just had to be fate. Why else would you be here right now, left behind with these probably kind of important documents. The employee didn’t say anything to you about delivering them, but now that you had them, why wouldn’t you. Since it was urgent…..You looked around to make sure he was still out of sight, then, you hurried to Mr Han’s office.

Your lucky bracelet jingled as you knocked on the door. Once. Twice. Th-

“Just enter,” you heard a deadpan voice from inside. The request was spoken as such a simple fact, it made your stomach drop. What if you really just entered and you would’ve interrupted something important? He’d probably be pretty mad if you did, right?

Like glued to the floor you stayed in front of the door, your arm still frozen in the knocking motion, when it opened on it’s own.

Raising his brow, Jumin looked the young woman in front of him up and down. What on earth was she wearing. Not one of the pieces on her body suited her in any way shape or form. Her hair looked like a glorified bird’s nest. His gaze wandered to the documents in her hands. Ah. He had been waiting for these. Taking a step back, he held the door open for her, beckoning her inside.

“You can leave them on my desk.”

She nodded eagerly, shuffled over to the large table and put them down right next to his keyboard. Why was she walking like that. Jumin looked down to her feet. The pair of heels she was wearing stuck to her rather awkwardly. Did she really not own one single piece of clothing that actually fit her?! Sighing, he closed the door and took a seat behind his desk. A bit out of place, she stood next to it, obviously trying to sneak a couple peeks at the information written on the document.

“So. You may start.”

A bit dumbfounded, she stared at him. Jumin looked up to her out of the corner of his eye. She seemed completely clueless as to what he expected from her. Did C&R’s training really lack in quality so much? Immediately, he made a mental note to look into it later. He didn’t have time for this.

“The report. To the documents. Give me the report.” Unbelievable. He really had to spell it out to her. Such incompetence was truly irritating.

“I’m sorry, Mr Han. I don’t have…anything? To report?”, she mumbled more to herself than him. If she didn’t mention his name, he would’ve taken it for nothing. However, she did address him.

Turning his head to look at her properly now, he let the documents drop to the wooden surface. “You bring me these documents without any report on them?”

“Aren’t you going to read them anyway?”

Now it was the CEO’s turn to be rendered speechless. She couldn’t be serious!

“Wh- I. Yes. Of course. But it is your job to give me the report belonging to it.”

“Well I don’t have it. If you’ll excuse me now.” With a nervous laugh she walked back over to the door. As much as it could be described as walking anyway.

Within the span of a couple seconds, Jumin rose from his seat again and stalked across the room. She had just opened the door the tiniest bit, when he slammed his hand against it, holding it closed.

At the sound of the door closing, you turned to the figure next to you. Jumin glared at you, clearly looking down on you not only because of how tall he was.

“Why don’t you take a seat.” His stormy eyes bored into yours. You swore that his gaze got more intense with every word, just as the sharpness of his voice.

This was it. This was how you were going to die. Mustering your best attempt at a smile, you did as you were told. Sitting in front of his desk was quite a strange experience. A little bit like sitting in front of the headmaster’s desk, but a thousand times worse.

Without further ado he sat down across from you. Still glaring at you, he leaned back in his chair, his legs crossed. It was quite the sight. You flinched, mentally kicking yourself for letting your mind drift in a situation like this. Focus! You had to focus! You took a deep breath and glared back at him. It seemed to throw him off for a moment, but you weren’t quite sure since his features became as ambiguous as ever. His tongue flicked over his lips as he pulled a sheet of paper out of his drawer with one hand and picked up a pen with his other.

“Your name.”

“What about it?”

You could’ve sworn you just saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

“Tell me your name.”

“Oh!”, you exclaimed, sitting up a little bit more straight. You held your hands in your lap, smiling at him. “Mc.”

Jumin noted down what you assumed was your name, then he looked back at you again. His eyes wandered back and forth, as if he was contemplating what to do, or rather to ask, next.

“I don’t think I remember you. Have you been with us for long?” It sounded like he was adding something under his breath, but you couldn’t make it out.

You went silent for a moment, trying to remember the exact time you had been interned in the company. All the while you were staring out of the window, doing your math, Jumin stared back at you. Sometimes he would look to the sides and squint at you. It was a bit weird. After some time in silence, which you assumed to not have been so long you told him that it has been about a month and a half. Jumin stared at you in disbelief. If it was because of the amount of time you had allegedly spent within the company or because of how long it took you to tell him was beyond your knowledge. Based on his expression as he added another note, you believed he wasn’t quite sure himself.

“And what is your…exact position? If you’re aware?”

Was he implying that you didn’t know why you were here? Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong, since the fact they took you in was a surprise to you every morning still, but he didn’t have to phrase it like that.

“I’m an intern.”

The faint grin on his features fell the second the words left your lips.

“Pardon? I think I misheard.”

“I am an intern, Mr Han. I-N-T-E-”

Clearly irritated, he interrupted you. “I know how to spell that, thank you very much.”

He slapped his notes on you on his desk, putting the pen down right next to them. It glistened nicely in the sunlight coming in through the window. You couldn’t help but think how pretty it was. That didn’t look like a pen made for work. But what did you know, you’re not the owner of a company.

Jumin had leaned back again, rubbing his temple in an attempt to keep his composure. It seemed very uncharacteristic of him to struggle so much with it. Whatever could bring him to his limit like that. Unable to hide your worry, you gave him a sympathetic look.

“Is there something wrong, Mr Han?”

The innocence in her simple question was about to drive him up the wall. What was wrong with this woman? Why did she have these documents? And how could she possibly be so careless about what she rode herself into? What an idiot. Wasn’t Jaehee responsible for her, if she really was an intern? How could she let this happen??

Questions over questions about this peculiar woman raced through his head. He felt like tearing his hairs out. Jumin closed his eyes for a moment. This was not the right time or the right reason to lose his composure. Not paying any mind to the woman trying to get his attention through questioning his well being and other useless small talk, he got up and opened the window, looking out on the city. The cool air blowing in his face was a welcome feeling as opposed to the red anger he felt coming on.

“You’re dismissed.”

The statement finally brought an end to her useless chatter.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr Han?”, she asked. As if she had anything to provide he could possibly have a use for.

“No. Thank you. You’ve done more than enough for today.” He threw a brief glance at her back as she waddled over to the door. Yes. That was the word he had been looking for. “And please do ask assistant Kang to find you some…fitting attire.”

Mc let out a noise of affirmation. When she left, she closed the door behind her carefully. He probably should’ve kicked her out after what just happened, no? Contemplating his decision, Jumin raised his hand to his jaw, running his fingers over it. Of course, what happened today was anything but ideal, but he was intrigued. What was it about that strange woman that had him losing control over himself like that. His mind kept wandering to the memorable encounter.

“Very interesting,” he muttered, letting out a dark chuckle.

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

OMG and this guys is the wonderful work of @space-kitten-606 !!!! KITTEN!!!! I am in love!! Waahhhhh!!! How do I deserve this??!!! I.... god, I am speechless. I love every single word of it. Mc really reminds me of a mixture of you and me somehow xD

#mysme #mystic messenger #jumin han #submission #space-kitten-606 writes #this is amazing #i love the ending of it....#look at me thirsting over jumin for nth time

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hardforbenhardy · 5 years ago

Text

love at first sight | rogerxfem!reader

summary: roger regrets offering to help out his band mate after waking up with a hangover. though it all washes away when he meets a woman who he thinks may just be the woman of his dreams (i’m awful at summaries i’m so sorry)

warnings: none really, mentions death like the tiniest bit but tbh it's just fluffy

word count: 3.3k

this was one of the first fanfics i ever wrote, and i don’t know it got to this but i’m posting them! i’m always a little nervous to post because i’m afraid people will never read them but oh well, i enjoy writing and i’m kinda proud of them soooo here we go :) i hope you enjoy it

rogers outfit inspiration ^

Rogers POV

Of all the favours I have ever done for John, hauling his children to and from school for the next week may be my least favourite so far. Veronica just having given birth to Laura, and having to look after Michael at the same time all by herself because John had gone on a stag-do holiday (which I, the life of the party, still don't understand why I wasn't invited); I gracefully offered to take Robert, who was now 4 years old, to nursery and pick him up. Robert had said it many times before that I was the best uncle he had, which of course I knew was true; and I can't deny that Robert was my favourite nephew. He listens to me much more than Jimmy or Michael, meaning it is very easy to sway him into becoming the coolest little kid, just after his Uncle Roger. Though, I swear Brian has hardwired his child to be the most boring human ever; all he does is read books and act polite.

Of course, Monday came around quicker than I realised, meaning I had 30 minutes to make myself at least a little bit presentable, for any hot single mums I may run into in the playground of course, before picking Robert from his house. It didn't help at all that I had a tumultuous pounding residing in the back of my head after a night out with Freddie and Brian the night before, and I had woken up to find I wasn't alone in my bed; which was truly expected of myself. The woman, who laid spread across the bed, was snoring lightly as her bare chest rose up and down with every nimble breath she took. I gazed at her up and down, taking in the sight of her flowing blonde hair which was pressed against the material of my silken pillows. Not a bad pull, Rog. Knowing I had to leave in what was now 25 minutes, I grabbed my notebook and pen which I always kept in my bedside table, and quickly scribble a note.

Good shag - call me ;)

Keys under the mat; lock the door behind you babe

I was a little wary to leave this complete stranger in my house and trust her to not steal anything and lock the door behind herself, but I wasn't about to let John and V down because I had a good shag; even though I wanted oh so desperately to maybe go for another round. I paced over to my closet, searching and scanning through the racks and racks of clothes, finally settling on a black and pink striped blazer that I threw on a black shirt and some blue pants. I looked amazing. Ruffling my hands through my hair, I ensured it looked as perfect as it usually did, before rushing down the stairs to save Veronica from the little terror that is Robert.

By the time I had made it to their front door, I could already hear the cries of little Laura and Michael, the shouting of Veronica and the tune of Robert playing his violin. I knocked on the door, in which it immediately swung open revealing the woman who literally looked like she had just given birth again.

“Sorry I took so long V, woke up with a bit of a hangover" – Of course, I was under exaggerating, I could still feel the migraine in the back of my head, and the scratchy sound of the strings on that shitty little violin was not helping.

"Rog, thank you so much for offering to take him – I don't know how I would have coped with all three of them in one morning." She smiled brightly, despite her dishevelled appearance. She moved to the side slightly, allowing me to walk through the door, though I didn't bother removing my shoes as I now knew I had only 10 minutes to drive Robert down the road. She was holding Laura in her arms, rocking her gently back and forth as she attempted to calm her from whatever trouble she was in; Laura was much feistier than the first two, constantly being awake and always crying about something, and it displayed well in Veronica's appearance. "Michael, would you please stop crying! I'll come and change you in a minute!"

"I'd learn to cope – Deacy's been talking of having another!" I chuckled, seeing V roll her eyes and scoff at even the suggestion of having more than 3 children. In her eyes, why would anyone have more than 3? She would never go beyond it. "Fucks sake, of course he is. Robbie, Uncle Rog is waiting – will you please put that blimming thing down and put your shoes on!"

"Robert, come show me your violin – maybe we can start own band!" I shout through, grabbing Robert's attention immediately as he pulls his shoes on extremely quickly and races towards me, wrapping his arms around my tightly as I squat down to his level.

"Unca Wog, you'wl never guess what happened wast night – I was watching TV with mumma, and we had popcorn and bwankets and evewything, and she said I can get my own dwum kit so I can wearn drums just wike you Unca Wog! She said I have to pwove I can wearn how to pway the viowin first (because she thinks I'wl get bored of it but mummy is vewy siwwy to think that!)" Robert exclaimed, whispering the last bit into my ear before giggling slightly, before picking up his backpack and shoving it into my arms. My heart melted a little at the way he was unable to say his l’s so he replaced them all with w’s. I chuckled lightly, ruffling my fingers through his curly, brown hair – which he claimed to be growing out just like his father because, and I quote, 'Daddy has the coolest hair in the world!' – "That sounds absolutely amazing Robbie, we have a mini Roger in our midst!"

"You are still okay to pick him up?" V smiled, now holding Laura over her shoulder and handing over Robert's surprisingly heavy violin case. "Of course – 2 o'clock?"

"Yep, and Robert will show you where to pick him up from. Just let Miss Y/L/N know you'll be picking him up as well for the rest of the week, just so the school knows."

"Miss Y/L/N?" I questioned, the name having such beauty and elegance to it. I thought I may be recognised the name from somewhere, but I couldn't put name to face until I had properly met her for the first time. "Yeah – she's Robert's teacher and supervisor. Oh and Rog, try not to flirt with her"

I nodded my head slightly, taking in her words; does that mean she's good-looking? And now she's 'off bounds'? I drove Robert down to the school, it not being too far away – thankfully, considering we were running slightly late. Robert dragged me over to the classroom door, where I looked through the window to see around 30 young children running around screaming and laughing. How anyone could do this job I had no idea, I could barely handle Robert alone, as much as I loved him. I opened the door, the noise and energy still remaining despite the interruption. I looked to Robert, who hung his bags on the coat rack before joining a group of boys who looked familiar; one had scruffy, blonde hair (although he totally rocked it), one had untamed, curly brown hair, and the other was a young Tanzanian lad who seemed extremely flamboyant and a character in his own right. Then my eyes were drawn directly to who seemed to be the only adult in the room. She was squatting down beside a young girl, plaiting her delicate blonde hair carefully, ensuring she didn't pull too hard and hurt the small girl. The girl was giggling lightly, eyes flicking between the woman and Robert, while the woman wrapping the hair band around the tail of the plait one last time, before rising. She ushered the girl towards the group of boys, who were air playing all kinds of instruments, making up their own tunes and singing. Though my eyes remained solely on the woman now heading towards me, who I could only describe as the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her long Y/H/C locks were flowing down her back as her brow-grazing fringe shaped her face perfectly; especially since they emphasised her mesmerizing gold-flecked eyes, the type you could stare into for hours on end and never get bored. She had the most gorgeous beam of a smile, which made my stomach drop at the sight. Clothed in a floral yellow summer dress, it perfectly sculpted her curvy body, showing what I would consider too much skin for a nursery teacher – but then again, I certainly wasn't complaining. I was snapped out my trance when she finally reached me, holding out her hand – "You must be the famous Uncle Roger?"

"That's me" I breathily chuckled, rubbing my hand on the nape of my neck, using my other one to shake the woman's hand. I never struggled to speak to women, it was a natural skill of mine and everyone knew it; yet here I was, barely able to look in her direction without feeling overwhelmed. She smiled brightly again, which sent shivers down my spine and butterflies to my stomach. "And you must be the famous Miss Y/L/N"

"Famous, eh? Call me by Y/N – much less formal" She laughed, taking her hand out of mine and tucking them in the pockets of her dress. The dress in which I was desperately trying to pry my eyes away from. "I assume you'll be collecting Robert after school as well?"

"Oh, yeah – for the rest of the week. V said she mentioned it?"

"Oh my, of course! How could I forget – John's away on some stag do right? Well, I'll be looking forward to seeing you again this afternoon, but I should get back to the kids before they end up setting a fire or something!" She giggled, smiling at me before wandering back into the mass of small children, who immediately crowded round at her feet as she sat cross-legged on the plush carpet. I watched them carefully, seeing how she so easily interacted with the children and kept their undivided attention while Robert retold the story he had told me earlier. The children's laughter suffused the room, one child setting off the next like a chain of dominoes. I noticed Robert was sitting next to the small blonde girl, cuddling quite close and his cheeks blushing when she complimented his brightly patterned button-up shirt; a shirt in which he had begged V to buy for him after seeing the same one in my closet.

When the time came around to pick Robert up, a wave of excitement washed over me as I realised I would get the chance to see Y/N again and maybe ask her out. When I arrived, all the other parents had picked up their child already and left, leaving just Robert and the little girl Y/N was plaiting the hair of earlier; though, I was 5 minutes late. I jogged over; worried I was keeping Y/N behind for longer than needed, scooping Robert into my arms as he hugged me tightly. "Hey Unca Wog!"

"Hey Robert – how was school?" I asked, smiling brightly at his adorable antics to immediately come over and hug me. He squealed loudly, a grin spreading across his face as his brain racked to decide what he should tell me about first – "Wewl, Miss Y/L/N told us a stowy, and we did some painting, a-and I wearnt to count awl the way to 20 – I don't even have that many fingers, I had to use my toes!"

“That's amazing! You may have to teach me, I don't think I can get past 10 yet!" I chuckled, seeing Robert cover his mouth in shock and giggle at the idea he knew something I didn't. He zipped open his Flintstones backpack and pulled out a large piece of card, which was when I noticed the remnants of paint that had stained his hands a bit matching the image on the card.

"Miss told us to paint our hewoes – so I painted daddy and the band! Look there is your messy hair, and that's your dwum kit, and that's all the giwrls daddy says you go on pwaydates with!" Robert exclaimed, pointing out each aspect of the painting that I could only describe as... abstract. I grinned at Roberts painting, realising just how much impact we, as a band, had on younger children. Though my eyes widened at the innocence of his last point, feeling slightly embarrassed considering a beautiful woman was standing just behind us. "Oh, and this is Wosanna! She's my best fwiend!"

Robert turned and pointed at the young girl, who was anxiously hiding behind Y/Ns legs, peeking her head around them and letting a shy smile grow on her face. "It's very nice to meet you Rosanna; I'm Roger – Robert's uncle" I politely grinned, holding my hand out to shake hers and hoping not to frighten her away. She bashfully accepted the offer, her petite hand wrapping around two of my fingers and shaking lightly, her cheeks blushing from sheepishness and giggling lowly at the attention.

"Come on Wosanna; wet’s go play on the swings! Uncle Woger, please can we stay a wittle wonger?" Robert begged, pouting his lips and batting his eyelashes in an attempt to sway me, though I just laughed. Rising back onto my feet, I nodded towards Robert, seeing him shoot off over to the swing set with Rosanna hot on his heels, making me laugh breathily at his urgency.

"I believe we have a budding romance in the works" A soft voice behind me bubbled, making me jump slightly, having forgotten Y/N was stood behind me. "Rosanna told me she has a secret crush on Robert, and I promised not to tell anyone but it's just too adorable not to share. I have a feeling that Robert might like her back, but that's for you to find out"

"It is very adorable, I must agree." I chuckled, going to stand next to Y/N and placing my hands into my blazer pockets.

"Have you any of your own?" She asked, nodding over to the two toddlers who were racing after each other around the playground, turning to face me with a gorgeous grin plastered from cheek to cheek on her face.

“No not yet, I guess I haven't found the right woman to settle down with yet, you know." I explained, feeling slightly defeated with the knowledge I had met the right woman, but it had only been a day of knowing her and it seemed a little forward to already ask her to practically marry me; no matter how much I wanted to. "What about you?"

"That little one is mine" she conceded, gently pointing to the blonde girl playing with Robert. My eyes widened at her admittance, not expecting her to have children when she seemed so young.

"Oh really? You look quite young to be the mother of a child that age" I exclaimed, hearing Y/N giggle beside me. "Well, I did have her at quite a young age, I'll admit, but I think we had her at the right time. I'm so lucky to have her"

"We?"

"Me and my husband" She expanded, and I felt my heart drop. She's married. "Well, my then husband." I furrowed my brows, looking at her with a face of confusion as I tried to decipher what she exactly meant - she was divorced? "He passed away a few months before I gave birth to Ro, I never got the chance to tell him the news. But Ro and I have moved on, you know. Or at least I thought she had - she asked me the other day if she'll ever get a daddy like all the girls in the class. I had no idea what to say, I mean I'd love to find someone new, Ben has been gone for years now. But I'm just afraid of finding someone and then having the exact same thing happen. I couldn't bare to go through losing the one person you love most in the world for a second time. And I don't want Ro getting her hopes up in finally getting a father. God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to start being all sentimental like this, it's just nice to have someone to talk to about it y'know"

"I'm so sorry, no one should have to go through that" I comforted, turning to see a tear or two rolling down her smooth cheeks which she quickly swiped away with the sleeve of her baggy teal sweater she had pulled on over the top of her dress as the day went by. I pulled her in for a consoling hug, rubbing my hand up and down her back to soothe her. She shortly pulled away, not too much further though as I felt head rest on my shoulder. "Rog?"

"Yeah?"

"I know this might seem a bit weird, considering I've only known you for a day, but I was wondering if maybe you'd like you go out for a drink tonight? It's just, like I said, I've wanted to get back on the dating scene for a while and you seem like a genuinely sweet guy and I was just hoping to get to know you a little better, plus Ro seems to really like you, I know she may have seemed nervous but she only does that when she really likes someone and she's afraid they won't like her back, a little like me I guess right now except she's usually a lot more quiet whereas I get very chatty, and I tend to talk a lot, which I know can get a little annoying but I guess it's just a force of habit by now and sorry this is probably really weirding you out, forget I even said anything-"

And with that, I planted my lips urgently against Y/N's, a wave of passion and lust washing over me as I realised the one thing I had wanted all along; she liked me too. As our embrace finally met, I felt the whole world around me fall away. It was slow and gentle, soothing in ways that words could never be. And what was even better was that she didn't hesitate, didn't pull away; she deepened the kiss, placing her little hands on the nape of my neck to pull me in closer. I never knew a kiss could so good, so perfect. The kiss was broken by the cheers of the youngsters from the other side of the playground, the sounds of "Go Uncle Woger!" and "Yay mummy!" ringing in our ears as we broke apart, chuckling softly at the animated reactions.

"I'll see you tonight then?" I breathed, staring deep into her enchanting eyes as she gazed back up at me. She beamed widely, nodding and taking out a small notebook from Rosanna's backpack and jotting down her phone number, before scrunching it up and placing it gently in my hand.

I had heard the saying a million times before. John always said it about Veronica. Brian about Chrissie. And I always thought it was complete and utter bullshit. There was no such thing. But I was proven wrong. I guess it truly is love at first sight.

#roger #taylor #rogertaylor #roger taylor fluff #imagines #oneshots #my writing #queen fanfiction #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x y/n #fluff #queen fluff

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liliah39 · 5 years ago

Note

For the one shots, what about reader is a fifth member of Queen and John cheats on her, and so they break up. And a month later at a concert just before it ends, John grabs the microphone and starts talking about how sorry he is and then “Your My Best Friend” starts playing from Freddie Brian and Roger. And John walks up to her and whispers how sorry he is. And the crowd starts chanting “Take Him Back” and reader takes him back and they hug and kiss. Sorry that was long.

Glimmer (Chapter 1) : John Deacon x Reader

A/N: This oneshot is actually going to be the beginning of a little 4-5 chapter John x Reader Mini-series! It has nothing to do with CLGOL, but I have some other asks for John oneshots that seem like they could all be worked into the same storyline, so I figured I’d do that. This one is for you, my love @deakysmisfire -C

Liliah39 Masterlist

Word Count: 3.3K

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September, 1976:

You and the boys were performing in Hyde Park tonight, news stations stuck in every corner waiting to grab one of the five of you in hopes to get a new piece of information about the band. You were sitting in your dressing room with your hair and makeup just finished as you slipped into your first performance outfit, sighing as you once again were upset by John’s absence.

Nothing would ever compare to the heart wrenching feeling you experienced a little over a month ago when you wandered back to yours and John’s hotel room after a crazy party following a concert to unlock the door and find him drunkenly fucking another girl.

A girl who looked like you.

Same hair color.

Same skin tone.

Even same body shape.

It was like an out of body experience as you watched him pounding into her from behind as she was bent over the bed. A gasp of disgust and heartbreak left your throat as you slammed the door, tears flooding out of your eyes as his movement came to a halt, head turning to look at you in the entryway, his eyes growing wide, immediately pulling out of the girl and stumbling to find his pants. He looked at you. He looked at the girl. He looked at you again.

“Fuck.” He muttered. “Get out. Get the fuck out of here now!” He screamed at her. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I thought I could get you to think I was her! I wanted to know what it was like! I’ve been following you for years now, and you still chose her over me!” She cried as she pulled on a shirt, slamming the door behind her.

“I don’t even know your name!” He slurred.

“John,” You shuddered. “What the fuck?”

“Y/N please, I didn’t mean it,” he pleaded, slurring his words as he stumbled over to you.

“You drink too much.” You managed to get out as you hurriedly gathered your belongings to get out of his hotel room as soon as possible.

“Baby, you know this isn’t normal for me,” he cried. “I think she drugged me.”

You let out a laugh in disbelief at his seemingly absurd comment. “Yeah, right John. I know how the other three are. I can’t believe I thought you were different.” You cried.

“Y/N, Baby, please. We’ve been together for three years, Baby please don’t do this,” he cried as he sat on the edge of the bed, face in his hands as he realized what just happened.

“I didn’t do anything, John.” You retorted. “Never have, either. I’m leaving because of what you just did.” By the way you glared at him, if looks could kill he’d be dead.

“You’re leaving me?” He cried, springing to his feet.

“Yes, John, what else to you fucking expect me to do? I just walked in to see you fucking another girl!” You cried as you ran to the door.

“Wait!” he said, grabbing your wrist. “I thought she was you.” He cried.

“You’re pathetic.” You spat at him, opening the door and slammed it in his face.

You spent the next couple tour dates in your cousin Roger’s room until they could book ahead enough for five rooms instead of four. When you got to Roger’s room that night, you were a crying mess with your belongings spilling out of your arms, Roger quickly kicking out the girl he had in his room to pull you inside and find out what had you so upset. You dropped your clothes right inside the door as he pulled you in for a tight hug, letting you cry out your heart wrenching cries until the account of what had just happened came spilling out of you.

He grew tense, the blood boiling in his veins, as he remembered what he told John all those years ago. “If you hurt her, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Roger broke himself of your embrace, deaf to your cries trying to get him to stop as you watched from the doorway as Roger burst into John’s hotel room. You heard him pin John against the wall, as he screamed, “What the fuck is wrong with you? That’s my cousin! She’s like my baby sister, John! What the fuck?”

John just cried the whole time, “I thought it was her, I promise Roger. I’d never do anything to hurt her. I love her. Please, Rog.” as Roger beat him senseless, Brian quickly running down the hall and pulling him off of John as Freddie called an ambulance. It wasn’t bad, but Roger had broken his nose and gave him two bad black eyes. The band had never come so close to breaking up. You were the fourth to join the band per Roger’s request due to your all around musicianship at singing, piano and guitar, but they still needed a bassist, and so John joined a week or so after you had.

For a couple days, you and Roger talked about breaking off and starting something with just the two of you called The Taylor’s, but after some very heated discussions with the other three, the five of you decided you could all act like adults for the well-being of the band and your fans.

Of course the whole thing was covered by the media- they ate it up like it was candy. Everyone knew the next morning what had happened, John had cheated on you and Roger beat him up for it, you and Roger almost leaving the band. Your names were at the top of every newspaper. Of course John had been inconsolable throughout the entire process, Freddie told you he cried every night, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him, because you were still hurting too. When John was in the hospital, they had done some blood tests and found out that the girl had, in fact, drugged him. But no matter how many times Freddie, Roger, and Brian told you, trying to explain that it really wasn’t his fault, you just couldn’t get the image of him fucking another girl out of your mind. You missed him terribly; were crying yourself to sleep every night too, but you just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t go back to him.

Now, in your dressing room at Hyde Park, you prepared for another show when you heard a knock at the door, hearing your cousin call your name on the other side.

“Come on in Rog,” you smiled, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “Just the person I needed to see right now.”

“Yeah? Must be that cousinly intuition thing.” He smirked. “How’re you doing with the whole thing?”

“Oh, um, I’m alright.” You sadly smiled, knowing he was talking about John. “Miss him. Don’t want to, but I do.”

“I know.” He said, kissing the top of your head. “Just wanted to warn you, there’s a whole swarm of reporters waiting for you to come out right outside your door; all of ‘em wanna hear from the lady of the hour.” He smiled.

“Okay. Tell them I’ll be out in a minute,” you said, waving him off as you hurriedly did your last minute preparations.

“Oh,” he said, just as he placed his hand on the doorknob, “I can’t tell you what I’m talking about, but just so you know, I was out voted and I’m sorry in advance.” He said sincerely as he slipped out the door, leaving you majorly confused.

You finished getting ready and grabbed a couple bottles of water as you left the room, immediately engulfed by the flashing of cameras and dozens of reporters yelling your name.

“Everyone shut the fuck up for a moment!” You screamed, smiling at your ability to control the crowd. “I’ll answer three questions, so make them good. You.” You decided, pointing at an NBC reporter.

“Miss Taylor, what made you all decide to do a free concert? People are predicting this to be the biggest turn out for a concert yet, with over 150,000 people. Does that scare you?”

“Oh I don’t know, it’s something we’ve been talking about for a while.” You smiled. “We love the idea of giving back to our fans, so we thought doing a free concert would be really nice. And no, the amount of people doesn’t scare me one bit; no matter if it was 50 people or 150,000, we’d still all put in the same amount of effort to our performance. To me, the number is just a beautiful representation of how many people we have affected with our music.”

The journalists furiously scribbled down what you had said on their notes, once again screaming your name.

“Alright…” you searched. “You?” You said, pointing at one to your right a few rows back.

“I know that you’ve done some modeling with Prada outside of Queen. Can you give us any hints about the new winter collection? What made you start modeling? Any new projects in that aspect?”

And then you saw it.

Saw him.

John was leaning against the will on the other side of the hallway trying to inconspicuously listen in on your interview, hoping to hear some bits of new information about your life.

So you decided to have a little fun.

The crowd quieted as you’d started your response. “Well I must say, I honestly think the modeling thing is luck. The modeling industry is extremely particular about who they allow to model and such, Roger and I are just lucky that the Taylor’s have such fortunate genes. Queen’s my main focus, but I must admit it is a nice hobby.” You laughed. “But I’m afraid there’s nothing I can tell you about the new Prada collection! I honestly don’t know much either. I went in for a fitting when we arrived back to London last week, and I will be walking the runway at the debut of the winter collection, but that’s really all I can tell you now.” You smiled. “Did I answer everything?”

“Almost,” the reporter smiled back. “I was wondering if you have any new projects with modeling coming up?”

“Oh, yes! Absolutely. And I think I can actually tell you about this one too,” you started, smirking to see that John was still eagerly listening into your interview. What you were about to say wasn’t 100% true, although you had received a call from them about being the model of the month in February for Valentine’s Day, but you hadn’t accepted it yet. Oh well, you thought, a public acceptance to their offer is still an acceptance. I can always turn it down later. Here goes nothing. “Well, I'm going to be the model on the cover of February’s Playboy Magazine!” You smirked, noticing the shock on John’s face; he almost choked on his beer. “None of that playmate stuff, just the model on the cover. But hey, it’s a big leap for my modeling career and I’m excited for that to be going other places.”

The reporters took no time to start screaming your name again as you chose one to your left, noticing the look on his face as he was about to ask his question. You could tell what this one would be about. “Ms. Taylor, we haven’t really heard much of anything about it for a month, so I was wondering if you could tell us how things are between you and John?”

You froze.

Do I tell him the truth, about how I’ve been a mess every night and miss him terribly, with John standing right there?

“Well, it’s been hard, but we’re handling it like adults. But I mean, honestly, I couldn’t care less about what he’s doing. Only talk to him if I absolutely have to, which isn’t often. Not that I want to, anyways.” You said coldly, shooting daggers his way. He heard everything, and it was too much for him. He walked away with his head down and tears in his eyes, and in that moment you almost felt bad.

Almost.

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

The concert was going great, the five of you playing completely in sync the entire night. You’d taken lead vocals on Flick of the Wrist, ‘39, and Stone Cold Crazy, and took lead vocals for sections of Sweet Lady, Killer Queen and Liar, but other than that provided some harmonies and played guitars with Brian. You just finished the finale, In The Lap of the Gods (revisited), and walked to the front of the stage to take your bows with the other four, but no one walked up with you. Roger stayed at the drums, Freddie at the piano, and Brian and John in their usual places, leaving you and the crowd majorly confused. You watched the audience looking around with majorly confused looks, the one on your face surely matching theirs. You noticed a section to the left started chanting

“One more song!”

“I’ve got no idea what the fuck is going on either, darlings,” you exclaimed, earning a laugh from the crowd. You spun around to look at the boys, Roger mouthing, “I’m sorry,” with a sympathetic look as John hesitantly took the microphone out of his stand and stepped toward the front of the stage. He was nervous, and now you were too.

“Hi, everyone,” he hesitantly smiled, his shyness taking over for a moment. The crowd cheered him on, eager to hear from the member they usually heard from the least. “I, um- I just wanted your attention for a moment. I’m sure you all know what happened about a month ago…” his voice trailed off, the crowd silencing; eager for the next piece of juicy information surrounding the scandal. “but I just wanted to personally acknowledge it, I’ve been a recluse throughout the entire thing, and quite honestly know it was the worst mistake of my life. I’m sure you all saw the papers that said how I was drugged, which my doctors have proven was true, but that’s not my reason for speaking right now. I think it’ll be a little more apparent what I’m trying to get at after we do this, but right now we’d like to end with something we don’t usually end with. Enjoy.” He smiled, Freddie starting the much too recognizable piano intro to that song.

John’s song.

The song that was in dedication to you.

You’re My Best Friend.

Tears stung your eyes at the gesture, knowing what would be coming when the song came to an end. It made sense why Roger had been apologizing to you profusely all day for something that hadn’t even happened yet: he didn’t know how you’d react, and quite honestly you didn’t know how to react either. You watched to the side the entire time as this was completely unexpected to you, trying to wrap your head around the decision you knew you were going to have to make at the end of the song.

“Oh, you’re my best friend.” Freddie ended, John once again grabbing the microphone as he walked over to you, taking your hand in his and bringing you to center stage.

“Y/N, I'm so sorry for what I did. Like I said earlier, Love, it’s the biggest regret of my life. Each day without you feels like an eternity; I haven’t had one single happy moment since you left me. Believe me, I know I deserved it, and I know I honestly don’t deserve you to come back to me, even though it wasn’t entirely my fault what happened. I think you know it wasn’t my fault too, and if I wasn’t drugged, I never in a million years would ever have done anything to hurt you, Love. I wouldn’t then, and I wouldn’t now. So, Y/N, would you please make me the happiest man in the world, and be my girlfriend again?”

The world spun around you as the crowd started to chant, “Take him back! Take him back!”. Over 150,000 people rooting for you to take him back. The answer seemed simple, didn’t it? It really wasn’t his fault, and you knew that, but you just couldn’t get that image of him with her out of your head; couldn’t remove the fear of being hurt again, until you saw it.

Saw the glimmer in his eye.

A little tear fall down his cheek, because he saw the uncertainty in your eyes.

But as you looked in his eyes, you saw the man you fell in love with all those years ago, saw the sincerity in his words. He truly didn’t mean it; he really had been drugged. And then instinct took over as you connected your lips with his. The crowd roared in cheers of happiness and approval, John’s arms wrapping around your waist as you put your hands on his cheeks. Tears of happiness rolled out of both of your eyes as the two of you separated for a moment, John quietly whispering, “I didn’t think you were gonna say yes,” before you hurriedly pressed your lips to his again. The world seemed to dissolve around you, the 150,000 audience members disappearing to leave only you and John in the arena. The other four walked up to take their bows with the two of you as God Save the Queen started, John’s arms never leaving your waist as the two of you smiled at each other the entire time. The other three were ecstatic; especially Roger, because he was so fearful that you’d be mad at him for trying to help John behind your back. All three of them patted him on the back, congratulating the two of you for getting back together as they walked past where the two of you stood just off the stage; Freddie admitting that over the last month or so you were both a complete mess without each other.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” John admitted between kisses.

“Believe me, I’ve missed you too, Deaky.” You gushed. “I was just scared, didn’t wanna get hurt again,” you admitted.

“I promise you won’t, I, I didn’t- I wasn’t…”

“I know,” you said, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “I know.”

“I’d never, ever do anything to hurt you, Love. God, I’ve only been able to think about you, it’s been driving me mad. I’ve missed your smile, your laugh, your voice, your hugs, your snarky comments,” he laughed as he tickled you sides. It was true, you’d been missing the same things about him, but there was one thing he hadn’t said he was missing. The thing that made you leave him.

“What about… the other thing?” You seductively said, twirling his hair in your finger.

“God,” he groaned. “I’ve missed that the most, couldn’t even get myself to try with a groupie. It’s not worth it if it’s not you.” He said, attaching his lips to your neck. You were looking to tease him, make him admit how much he needed you.

“So… you’ve missed me screaming your name every night?” You laughed.

“More than anything,” he shyly admitted. “You have no idea how many nights I got thinking of you, then had to look at old polaroids I had of you just to, you know?”

You knew.

Just to get himself off.

“Then what are we still doing here?” You smirked, hands wandering dangerously close to the top of his pants as he scooped you up in his arms making you laugh at his inability to control himself.

“ ‘Cmon, Love. We’re going back to my hotel room a little early.” He smiled.

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thats it guys! I hope you enjoyed!!! I think the name of the fic will make more sense as more chapters come out; I am going to do aesthetics and q&a’s and all that like I normally do for CLGOL. Today is gonna be a catch up day for me with some other things I’ve posted, so i think im gonna be posting like 3 aeshetics today haha. -C

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute , @bismillahnah , @deakysmisfire , @queer-heart-attack , @everything-you-dont-wanna-be , @mercurycrowley , @ikbenplant , @xcdelilahxc , @chekovs-davy-jones-wig , @laedymoon , @manicpixydreamgirl , @jaylikesguavass , @brianskindofcheese , @anincurablefangirl , @jennyggggrrr

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