#because i am reminded of how full of shit people are on a daily basis | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jalapeno-princess · 4 years ago

Text

Cyber Sex

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 5.6K

Genre: Fluffy ass smut

Warning: Masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, cussing, breast play

Summary: Your boyfriend Mark is currently in Japan for a conference and seeing you wearing nothing but his shirt leads to fingering yourself to his commands.

A/N: Based on the song “Cyber Sex” by Doja Cat. I am so excited for their comeback, I’m broke as a fucking joke but it’s fine. I’m FINE. Happy reading.

I wanna touch on you You see me in my room Wish you were here right now All of the things I'd do I wanna get freaky on camera I love when we get freaky on camera

The word tired wasn’t even enough to describe exactly how you were feeling right now. You were exhausted beyond belief to say the least. Being a full time college student; majoring in both criminal justice and journalism on top of having a full time job at one of the most prestigious and reputable law firms in your state wasn’t the most ideal situation, but you made it work. Well, for the most part.

Your mental health these days has been at an all time low; you were being overworked to the point where you were afraid you could suffer from either a mental breakdown or panic attack at the rate you were headed. Unfortunately, the only person who knew how to keep you from completely reaching the brink of insanity was currently thousands of miles away from you. Your boyfriend of over three years—Mark; was in Japan for a very important conference that the company he was working for sent him on in order to represent his department.

Although he was the youngest in his career field; Mark knew exactly what to say and do to build partnerships and to gain the trust of many other company shareholders. Your boyfriend was quite the charmer; sometimes you did grow jealous when you’d observe how some of his colleagues and a few of his clients would look at him in such a way that you thought only you were allowed to.

As much as you wanted to be upset with the women who were bold enough to ask him out even if they knew he was in a relationship, you couldn’t really blame them for finding him attractive and attempting to make a move on him. Mark was the definition of a sight for sore eyes. He was gorgeous and exceedingly handsome—however, Mark was way more than just a pretty face, a well-defined and extremely toned body and a deep, raspy voice that never failed to get you groveling at your knees.

He was extremely kind and generous to every single person he’s ever met in his life. You always considered him to be somewhat of an angel; an ethereal being here on earth because there was no way someone who was both ridiculously breathtaking on the outside was just as wonderful on the inside. Sometimes, you felt as if he deserved better than you. From a very young age, you never thought much about yourself; you didn’t care all too much about the way you looked, you didn’t consider yourself smart, funny nor did you have any impressive talent.

However, Mark never failed to make you feel as if you were the most beautiful creature he has ever laid his eyes on. He reminded you both physically and verbally on a daily basis that he loved you more than anyone and anything on this he’ll forsaken earth. You were his person, his soulmate—the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. You don’t know what it was that you did in your past life to be the lucky person to call him your boyfriend, but you would do it again and again if it meant having him in each and every lifetime.

It was hard having to be away from him every now and then—especially on the days when you felt as if the entire world was against you for not doing anything right. Deep down, you knew you were doing the best you can but it was as if your best wasn’t good enough for other people. Since Mark was a day ahead but six hours behind, you were sure he had to be busy attending a convention or going over his notes to prepare for meetings he had mentioned to you a couple of times in the last week.

As much as you wanted to call him just to hear his voice; even if it were just for a few minutes, you didn’t want to bother him. He had other things to worry about—the stress and frustration caused by your responsibilities would only worry him and you knew he didn’t need that. You made your way in to the bathroom and started getting ready to go to sleep. You wiped off any trace of makeup from your face, brushed your teeth and took off your clothes before throwing on one of Mark’s shirts.

Right as you were about to throw yourself in to the comfort of your bed, you heard your phone sound off on the night stand and because you had a huge feeling it was Mark trying to get in touch with you, you practically flung yourself across the threshold and reached for your phone while flopping down on your sheets.

Babe: Hey, you didn’t let me know if you got home. Are you alright? Can we FaceTime? I miss seeing your pretty face so much. 11:27 P.M.

Whatever exhaustion you felt from earlier immediately disappeared; the want and need to talk to your boyfriend was far stronger than any amount of tiredness you felt. You got up and grabbed your laptop—preferring to look at him on a bigger screen since your vision wasn’t all that great from taking out your contacts. He was quick to answer before the first ring and you could feel your chest warm up at the sight of him.

No matter what he wore, he always seemed to take your breath away. Whether it was a flannel and some skinny jeans or just a pair of grey sweats when the two of you would lounge around your shared apartment—a blush would always seem to rise on your cheeks just because he was so annoyingly attractive. However, seeing him in a suit; looking extremely classy with his hair pulled back so you could see the entirety of his handsome face made your stomach sore in the best way. God, why did he have to be thousands of miles away from you?

“Baby!” You gave him a soft smile and sat up properly in order to get a better look at him.

“Hey—are you right about to go in to a meeting or something? You look very handsome babe.” He gave you his infamous cheeky grin—one he always flashed whenever you would compliment him. Mark, even at the prime age of twenty-seven could still get so shy and flustered at the smallest little things. Especially whenever you would go in to detail about his charming features or how his cute little butt always looked good in a pair of slacks.

He scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment before biting his lip. You were soon growing envious at the thought of how many women got to see him looking like a Greek-God while in his element. Although you have only seen a few videos of the speeches he would give at conventions and conferences, you observed just how confident he was when it came to his craft. When it came to talking with other people—sometimes even when the two of you would go out to dinner with your parents, he was always so timid and soft spoken.

Yet, he seemed to change in to a completely different person in environments where he was meant to persuade clients in to buying stocks with his company. You couldn’t help but find it cute whenever he would act flustered around you—especially because in the bedroom and behind close doors, he was the complete opposite of shy.

“Oh—uh, thanks. I actually just came back from a luncheon. It was boring as hell and honestly I didn’t hear a thing anyone had to say, I was too busy thinking of you. God, I hate having to attend these fucking conferences—I mean I love traveling; it’s not like we can really go around anyway and even if we could, I’d use all my free time talking to you. I hate any moment spent without you baby. Tell me about your day; how was work? Did you finally take that exam you’ve been studying for these last two weeks—oh shit. I didn’t realize what time it was there, I’m sorry baby. You must be tired, I can call you back tomorrow—“

You waved your hand out at him signaling that it was okay. Even if you had to be up in less than five hours, you were perfectly fine with the idea of getting no sleep at all tonight if it meant talking to your favorite person until the sun rose.

“It’s fine Mark. I miss you too—so much. I can always message my professor and tell her I’m sick if I’m not feeling up to attending class tomorrow. Work was work; tiring and frustrating as it always is and school is well—school. Nothing new. I want to hear about you though—“

“We’ll get to me later baby. It hurts knowing that you’re going through something—I’m sure there’s more to it that you’re not telling me. I hate that you suffer by yourself and it’s even harder when I’m away and I can’t hold you and tell you that everything is going to be okay. But it will be and you know why? Because you have me. I got you y/n. You know you can always run to me—confide in me. That’s what I’m here for. To help carry your burden with you. I’m sure you’re well aware that I want nothing more than to carry your problems in your place. I would do anything just to make you happy—I hope you know that. I probably don’t say it as often as I should, but fuck—I just want to give you the whole world; the entire universe because it’s what you deserve.”

You could feel the tears brimming at your eyelids and if he was there with you, you would probably playfully shove him for making you cry with his sweet words before leaving chaste kisses all over his face. One thing you admired about your boyfriend, on top of the infinite amount of other things was his way with words. Mark preferred to show you through his actions rather than tell you with his words exactly what you meant to him but when he did speak up about his feelings, your heart would combust in to a million different pieces.

He even wrote you a couple of letters filled with love and adoration because he wanted to remind you when he wasn’t around that you were all he could ever want and need for the rest of his life. The two of you talked for around half an hour until you found yourself re-positioning yourself when your leg got a cramp for sitting on it too long. You didn’t think anything of it, but as soon as you fixed yourself, you were quick to notice how Mark’s jaw was now clenched as he began grazing his teeth along his bottom lip.

You’ve been with him long enough to know what his ministrations and movements meant; those two in particular usually meant that he was either uncomfortable or horny. But you didn’t understand how he could be either; he was fine just a few seconds ago—why was he looking as if he was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“Hey Mark, everything okay?”

“Is that my shirt?”

You looked down at his black champion tee that was practically swallowing you whole, just like most of his clothes that you’d find yourself wearing every now and then. He never failed to rave about how sexy you looked in his clothes and sometimes he didn’t have the willpower to let it stay on you for all too long before ripping it off and showing you the effect that seeing you in any of his clothes would do for him.

Your hair was a mess, there were bags under your eyes and your lips were chapped from not feeling the need to moisturize them; so you didn’t feel like you were at all ravishing or attractive in any way. Surely, seeing you in his shirt couldn’t be the reason why he was riled up all of a sudden—could it?

“Oh, yeah. I was so exhausted I just grabbed the closest item of clothing near the sink. Is there something wrong? It smells good. Just like you—wait, is it dirty? Did you not wash it yet? I can go change—“

“No no—shit—can you lean back or something? I want to see you, full body.”

You did as you were told and pushed your computer further away from where you were sitting before moving back just a little in order for him to get a better look at you. It wasn’t till you saw him gulp as a whimper fell from the back of his throat did you know exactly what was going on.

“Mark—“

“Fuck—you look so fucking breathtaking Y/n—so damn sexy—don’t get me wrong, you always look so beautiful. But when you’re in one of my shirt it’s just—why the fuck am I in Japan right now this is bullshit.”

A soft giggle fell from your lips; whenever Mark would get horny, that was when he was the most vocal about his emotions. He was extremely vulgar and his words were always so dirty; so naughty. It was funny listening to him talk on the phone to his boss or a couple of his colleagues knowing just how filthy and lewd he could be during your love making sessions. Your boyfriend was the definition of dominant.

There were a few occasions where he would allow you to take charge—when you would dominate him, you would put all your effort and energy in to driving him to the brink of insanity. The older boy didn’t know what he preferred; edging you until you would beg for him to let you cum, or being tied up to the bed while you ride him at an exceedingly quickened pace. You could feel the warmth building in between your thighs at his words on top of the frustration that he wasn’t there to help you with the forming orgasm you were now completely aware of.

“You know babe, now that you’ve mentioned it—I do feel pretty warm in here. Maybe I should take this off.”

You decided to mess with him; knowing that he was probably suffering and trying to hide the fact that he was definitely hard as a rock right now. His shirt was gently thrown to the side of the bed and soon your breasts were on full display for him. Watching his jaw drop at the sight of your bare chest only made you want to continue putting on a show for him. Slowly, you brought your hands up and cupped both your breasts in your hands—massaging and kneading your mounds all but gently before bringing your nipples in between your fingers and twisting them.

Breast play had to be one of your favorite forms of foreplay; specifically because Mark—well, the asshole was good at every single thing he did. Sports, cooking and baking, education, singing, cracking unsolved mysteries and blowing your mind in more ways than one. His fingers; they had to be the prettiest fingers you’ve ever seen on someone before and you weren’t being biased because he was your boyfriend.

Mark had such long, skinny fingers and he knew exactly how to use them. His hands were almost double the size of yours—yet your hands fit perfectly together as if you were made for one another. Although you were very insecure about your body, no matter how many times Mark practically worshipped it and reminded you how he loved every single one of your body parts; especially your face, breasts, thighs and ass, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t confident in your boobs. Honestly, your breasts were one of the only parts that you genuinely liked about yourself.

Sometimes, you would wear certain tops that showed enough cleavage to get a rise out of your boyfriend and every single time, you did. Mark looked as if his eyes were about to pop out of his head and you had to stifle back a few moans from how good it felt. No matter how much you were enjoying this; playing with yourself in front of your boyfriend, you knew it would feel so much better if he was the one doing it to you.

“Fuck Y/n, you’re going to be the death of me. Shit—what I wouldn’t give to be the one fondling your pretty titties. Fuck—just wait till I get home princess. I’m gonna suck the shit out of them; you’re going to regret this. You’re so beautiful—I can’t get over how gorgeous you are. You’re really going to kill me.” You gave him a smirk and playfully brought your bottom lip in between your teeth. “Mmm—Mark—feels so good—“

“I bet it does baby—you look so ethereal—twisting your perky nipples like that. But I’m sure it doesn’t feel as nice as it would if it were me. Shit y/n—I want to titty fuck you so badly right now. I swear, it’s like your breasts get bigger whenever I’m away. Should I show you just how crazy you’re driving me right now?”

You immediately nodded in agreement; the desire to see Mark’s cock was seeping through your veins. You didn’t care if you came off too eager or too excited; it’s been almost three weeks since you’ve seen your boyfriend and even longer since he was buried balls deep inside of you. Sex wasn’t a huge deal in your relationship—well, it was both yours and Mark’s favorite physical activity, but unlike other couples, you cared about other forms of intimacy just as much as you did making love.

Mark was a huge fan of cuddling, spooning and holding hands. Your boyfriend was extremely clingy and overprotective whenever it came to you; but that was just apart of his nature. He wasted no time in yanking off his slacks; the outline of his cock was prominent against his grey briefs. You could feel your mouth water at the sight; to some people, penises were very ugly, but something about Mark’s always had you on your knees—begging for him to shove it down your throat. His girth was long and extremely thick. As soon as he took off his underwear, you suddenly stopped your movements and eagerly leaned forward to get a better look at him.

“Someone’s excited.”

“That’s the understatement of the year. I could cum right now just at the sight of your tits alone. Fuck—you’re the one who caused this painful ass erection baby, I wish you were the one who would solve it.” He spit on his hand and brought the saliva down to the tip of his cock; he lubricated himself and you could feel your breath hitch when he let out a soft moan.

“Babe—fuck Mark, there’s nothing more I want than to suck you off—“ If this were under different circumstances, you were sure he’d let out a snarky chuckle like he normally would every time you made it clear that you wanted to blow him; or if you wanted sex. You were always so soft spoken; so modest and you hardly ever were vocal when it came to voicing your desires.

You were more of the type to mess around with him; gliding your hands gently along his thigh, palming him through his pants and even hovering over his lap; grinding yourself against his dick while leaving wet kisses against the juncture of his neck. Whether it was because you were extremely turned on or because it’s been a while since you and your boyfriend were intimate, but sometime came over you and you felt yourself wanting to take over of this cyber sex session.

“Mark—close your eyes baby. I want to take care of you. Pretend I’m there with you and do as I say. Grab the bottom of your cock; bring your thumb along the vein and slowly pump yourself.”

Watching the veins on his neck grow made it adamant that he was enjoying your dominance and you used that to your advantage. He let out a very faint whine; you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t giving him your full attention and you were well aware that if you were to touch yourself, you’d be soaking at this point.

“Circle your thumb around your tip, and graze the slit as gently as possible. God Mark—I’ll purchase a ticket to Tokyo right now just to wrap my mouth around your cock.” This earned you a mixture of a laugh and a cough and you found yourself laughing along with him.

“Is that a promise? We can put this on pause and I’ll buy one for you; you don’t even need to pack a thing. All I need is you—keep talking like that and you’re going to lose your voice once I get home. I know I keep saying this, but it’s because it’s true and I can’t get over it—you’re so fucking sexy. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but just know that I love you; with every breath I take and every single beat of my heart. I love you more than I will ever be able to express to you in words. As much as I want to continue going in to depth about the love I have for you, you can’t be having all the fun here. Take off your underwear y/n—I can’t believe you’re wearing that one. How did I forget to take it with me? I remembered to sneak the matching bra in my suitcase—“

“So that’s where it went, I’ve been looking for it since you left—weirdo.”

“Hey, you have your kinks and I have mine. Now—take off your panty and do as I say.”

With a quick roll of your eyes, you stripped yourself free of your red thong and flung it across of the room. It was probably a mess now with all your pieces of clothing lying around, but you didn’t care. There was a flame burning in your core that you wanted to hurry up and get around to reaching your release. This wasn’t the first time the two of you had sex over webcam; but you felt as if this time would be different from your past experiences.

Not only did you miss your boyfriend terribly, but you’ve been daydreaming about the last time the two of you made love the night before he left and you could still feel the way his cock stretched out your walls. Your fingers absentmindedly made their way down to your entrance; you brought your index and your middle finger in your mouth and sucked on them before returning them back down to your folds.

“Fuck—fuck, fuck—such a pretty little mouth and an even prettier pussy. Tell me baby—who does that pussy belong to? Tell me while you drag your digits along your core y/n.”

You traced your fingers back and forth along your entrance; gathering some of your essence on your fingers and bringing them back to your mouth. During most of your sexual activities—Mark, whether it would be when he would finger you or when he would eat you out, would have you taste yourself so you were well aware why he was so addicted to the way your pussy tasted.

Although you were a big fan of giving him blow jobs, Mark was a professional at giving head. He ate your pussy like it was a delicacy and he was very vocal about how pleasuring you brought him equal amounts of pleasure himself. Next to fucking your tits and ramming himself inside of you, he loved going down on you. On the days that work was extremely stressful, or your classes were bombarding you with too many assignments; Mark would take care of you—either making you dinner or ordering your favorite food, preparing you a bubble bath, and sucking the life out of your pussy in order to take your mind off of your many frustrations.

You sucked your fingers dry of all your pre-cum and let out a loud pop before returning them back to their previous position. Multiple swears and wanton moans left Mark’s mouth as he continued to guide his hand back and forth along his cock all the while watching you shove your fingers inside of your cunt. It felt amazing; anytime the two of you were intimate—even on the days you were both exhausted beyond belief and just gave each other oral to both reach your highs, you could never get over the feeling of ecstasy and euphoria that came over you every time Mark would bring you to heaven with his tongue.

It was in that moment that you realized the last time you kissed him was almost a month ago. If your schedule wasn’t so hectic, you probably would have went with your boyfriend. The two of you were like magnets; everywhere you went, people could expect Mark to follow no matter where it was. Most boyfriends would get bored having to wait outside while their girlfriends went shopping, but Mark would follow you around to each and every store; he even gave his opinion on what he thought would look good on you and what he would love to rip off of you.

To your dismay, he would pay for everything even against your many complaints but like he said, he just wanted to make you happy. He felt bad that he had to travel all around the world a lot, so he felt like he wanted to buy you a couple of things to make up for being absent every so often.

There were days your boyfriend contemplated on quitting his job and finding one that didn’t require him to leave all the time; but this job had amazing benefits and because he was still so young, yet had a position that most of his coworkers twenty years his senior haven’t even experienced before, he knew he wouldn’t be able to find a job even half as good as the one he had now. But he would give it all up and even work as a barista or a cashier in a grocery store if it meant being able to see you, kiss you, hold you and go to bed with you in his arms every single day.

“Damnit y/n—ahhh—you’re such a goddess—my pretty petal—pump yourself harder baby. Faster—tell me how it feels. Grab your clit and twist it in between your fingers; I bet you’re like the Pacific Ocean right now. I’m sure you’re just as tight as you are wet baby. Keep going. Pretend it’s me; burying my long fingers in that tight cunt of yours. I can just picture how good you feel clenching around me. Flick your clit; ugh, I miss nibbling on it and taking it in between my teeth. I miss the way you would tighten your thighs around my head—and don’t even get me started on how much I miss whenever you would ride my face. I don’t think I can handle being away from you much longer y/n—it’s not even just because I miss fucking you—I mean I do—God do I miss railing the shit out of you—but I miss you. So much. I miss seeing your contagious smile that I’m sure could cure cancer, and your laugh that never fails to light up an entire room. I miss your lips and how they meld perfectly against mind. I miss looking at your beautiful eyes and the way you tell a story with them. I miss being the cause of the blush on your cheeks. I can’t wait to finally finish here and come back home to you. Just a couple more days baby then I’m all yours okay. Have I ever told you how grateful I am that you’re so patient? Thank you for waiting for me y/n—I—love you—“

You could feel tears brimming at the corner of your eyelids. Although you were just moments away from coming on your fingers, his words tugged on your heartstrings. Sure, he texted you every single day and told you that he would much rather be home with you; sat in between your legs and leaning his head against your chest while he played video games—but it was so heartwarming hearing him describe every single thing he missed about you.

“I miss you too Mark—I would do anything for you. I’ll wait for however long you need me to my love. I love you—I hope you know that you’re the only good thing I’ve got going for me. I don’t care what happens in the future; I just really want you in it.”

The two of you continued your movements; you quickened your pace; you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release. Your fingers felt so amazing being clenched by your velvety walls and you were actually doing really well with picturing that it was Mark fingering you. His movements were just as relentless and he even began fondling his balls. He tilted his head back and the sight made you whimper at how erotic it was. His neck; along with everything else on his body was long and you could still faintly see a couple of the love-bites you left on his collarbone. Before you knew it, you felt a sticky substance on your fingers and allowed yourself to come on your digits before releasing an embarrassingly loud moan.

“Holy shit—that was so fucking hot. Suck your fingers for me baby—help me reach my release—shit, shit, shit—“

His semen squirted out in rapid spurts and you were upset that you weren’t able to feel him fill you up to the hilt with his warm, creamy liquid. His hair clung to his forehead as sweat dripped down the sides of his cheek. You were sure if you were to look in the mirror, your hair would be just as tousled and your cheeks would be flushed.

The two of you spent a couple moments in comfortable silence; both coming down from your highs. He took a little while longer to come to his senses and you used this time to look at him in awe of just how breathtaking he was. This was a common occurrence right after the two of you finished your love making sessions; you would bask in each other’s presence and sometimes if you were still up for it, the two of you would talk until one of you would finally let sleep take over. Once you were both settled down, you gave him a soft smile and flopped on to the bed.

“Honestly, I think I’m going to get a good nights rest now. Thank you baby, that was wonderful. I’m sure I would have came faster if it was your cock inside of me, but that was a good distraction nonetheless.” He beamed at you.

“No, thank you. That was mind blowing as always y/n. I can’t wait until I have you in my arms—and on my cock. I love watching you as you cum—I wish you could see what I see, your expression when you reach your orgasm is so fucking tantalizing. I plan on having you the entire day when I come back home, so just be ready baby. Wait—you’re not going to bed naked are you—“

“Oh—I wasn’t planning to, but now that I know it’s probably going drive you insane—“

“You wouldn’t dare—fuck—just wait until I get my hands on you—“

You gave him a sultry smirk and began running your fingers in between the valley of your breasts. “Hmmm, I might just take the day off just to touch myself. Might even walk around the place naked. Too bad my boyfriend isn’t here to fuck me up against the balcony or up against the fridge—“

The growl that came from the back of his throat did not go unnoticed to you and you found the coil in your tummy tightening again. Only Mark Tuan could get you horny again minutes after getting you to come on your fingers. Even if he repeatedly called you sexy almost fifteen minutes ago; you felt like that word didn’t do him justice.

“That’s it—I’m telling my supervisor I need to come home. Tonight. I’m gonna kiss the shit out of you then fuck the shit out of you.”

You weren’t sure if he was just saying that in the heat of the moment, but you were soon growing excited at the thought of finally being wrapped in his embrace again. As much as you wanted to keep up the sexual banter; you came to the realization that Mark was only half naked. His dress shirt was soaked with sweat and his tie was flipped around the other way. He looked at you in confusion once you bursted in to a fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

“I hope you packed a few other dress shirts; you have cum stains all over the bottom.” He released a frustrated grunt before sticking his tongue out at you.

“They’re all in my dirty laundry pile. I was planning on using this one for the rest of the week. See, even the more reason to come home tonight. I expect you on your hands and knees once I get home. As fun as it was watching you fuck yourself with your fingers through webcam, nothing compares to seeing the real thing in person. I think it’s time you go to bed, you’re going to need all the energy you can get for what I have in mind for the both of us. Sweet dreams baby, I’ll see you real soon.”

#got7 imagines #got7 #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

65 notes · View notes

nelllraiser · 3 years ago

Text

garlic dread | milo & nell

TIMING: the middle of spring, before the portals opened. PARTIES: @wickedmilo & @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: milo just wants to help nell with her plants, but nell has other plans.

With spring coming into its prime, Nell’s garden had been thriving in addition to her greenhouse. During the time she’d been struggling to pay off her hospital debt, watching the numbers of new flowers in her garden dwindle had been one of the hardest cutbacks, the blooms and otherwise being one of her simpler joys in life. But now that her father had paid off the hospital without the witch’s permission, it meant that she was able to spend a little more money than usual on some new little plants and the like. Which was how she found herself walking home with a plethora of green and leafy friends in her arms, barely able to see over the lot of them as she made her way out of the plant nursery. She was nearly out of eyeshot from the other townies— which meant she was only steps away from being able to freely use her magic when another person caught the corner of her eye. Where the hell had he come from? She was instantly annoyed despite the fact that the young man couldn’t have any inkling of his unintentional meddling. Hopefully with any luck he’d disappear soon enough of his own accord, and then she’d be able to hover her new plants home with minimal effort. Another look towards the guy had her brow scrunching up in thought. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place why.

Milo wasn’t sure he would ever get used to smelling people before he saw them. It was a strange, and uncomfortable instinct. Usually he discovered he wasn’t alone through sight, or through sound. The regular ways. But when the fresh scent of vegetation and potted soil managed to reach him on the evening breeze, he glanced upwards, curious to see where it was coming from. There was a woman on the other side of the road, walking towards him with her arms full. He could only assume she was an avid gardener, nobody else would buy quite so much when they knew they needed to carry it home. For a while, he was too distracted by her plants to pay any real attention to her face, but as she grew closer he began to recognise her from high school. What was her name? Was it Penelope? He felt sure it was, but he also had a feeling nobody ever actually called her that. Jeez, it was so difficult remembering back on a time where he had barely been present. Always high, or on the verge of inebriation. If somebody wasn’t his friend, they faded away almost immediately after graduation. Regardless, it felt rude not to offer his help. He had been meeting so many people from his past, as of late. This could be an opportunity to make a new friend, somebody who didn’t know what a mess he was. “Hey!” He called from where he was standing across the road, there were no cars, so he knew she would have no trouble hearing him. “Any chance you want some help?”

Highschool maybe? Was it highschool that she knew him from? Nell didn’t really want to ask, not when she was trying to hurry home, and get this guy out of her hair so that she could get her magic up and going. “Yeah- no thanks,” she dropped her reply quickly, taking on a fairly dismissive tone, hoping he’d catch the hint and leave her alone. Still...it was nagging her that she couldn’t place his face. It was definitely from highschool, but she’d had barely a handful of friends back then, and everyone else knew well enough to just leave her alone. Even though the normies couldn’t have known she was actually a witch, that didn’t stop the age-old fear of things they didn’t understand from settling in when it came to Nell Vural.

At first, they’d been taught it by their parents at the hands of a disastrous childhood birthday party where a kindergarten aged Nell had accidentally summoned a swarm of Wolpertingers out of her birthday cake. From then on, all it’d taken for her schoolmates to avoid her was a couple of violent altercations born of shitty people and her temper, and a few more mystic incidents for them to steer clear and whisper behind her back. But they’d had no problems coming to her when they wanted something more salacious, hook-ups underneath and bleachers and in empty classrooms. Apparently it had been fine enough to screw the creepy magic girl, just not get on her nerves or be her friend.

Milo faltered as Penelope turned down his offer, both surprised and irritated by the way she casually brushed him off. He was trying to be friendly, not to mention the fact that he recognised her from high school. She had every right to say no, of course. But he felt like he had decent grounds to be annoyed. If anything, it was an opportunity for good company, a mutual opportunity. Crossing the road without looking, confident he would hear any cars if they got too close, he raised his eyebrows at her. “I’m going to assume you have no idea who I am.” He half teased. “But I swear I’m not a creeper about to follow you home. Come on, let me help.” He gestured to the plants in her arms, knowing he didn’t need to point out how overwhelmed she was by her load. “I’m trying this new thing where I’m not an asshole, you know? This would really help my credibility.”

Nell. The name came back to him suddenly, along with the reputation she had once managed to build for herself. He had stayed largely out of her way, watching her arguments in the corridor from afar, listening when people whispered about her while making no move to acknowledge the rumours. Honestly, anybody willing to say ‘fuck you’ to societal standards and enjoy sex for what it was had his respect. But it made him wonder why he had never gotten to know her back then. Given what was so often said, she seemed very much like his kind of person. Had she changed since? He definitely had, in more ways than one. “Nell, right?” He asked, unable to help himself. “It’s Milo… Summers. I used to hang around with Kyle.” He had no idea whether she even knew who Kyle was, but given they had both spent most of their days filling the boy’s bathroom with smoke, he figured she had probably heard of him.

To be honest, Nell didn’t entirely mind if some random guy from highschool got caught in the crossfire of her impatience— especially when she was over eager to get home, and get her plants all settled in. Was it rude? Probably. Would she ever see the guy again, and did she really care when she hadn’t even known him well enough to properly attach a name to face? Probably not. She simply raised a brow as he confirmed that no- she couldn’t quite place him within the confines of her highschool memories. “I’m not worried about you following me home.” It most likely wouldn’t turn out great for someone anyway if they decided to follow a girl back to the house where three witches, a reanimated corpse, and a literal demon dog lived. He was trying not to be an asshole? Why did she have to be a part of that when she just wanted to get home as fast as possible?

Popping her mouth open to give him another denying reply bordering on rude, surprise flit over her face when he managed to remember her name— which quickly turned to intrigue as he mentioned the name Milo in conjunction with Kyle. Oh shit, this was Milo. The same Milo that had been hanging around the werewolf during the time he’d been turned. Along with his name came a few more vague memories from her school days, finally recalling him to be someone along the lines of a stoner who was often in detention. “Oh- Milo, right,” her expression instantly shifted into one that was much more open now that she realized he was actually someone she wanted to talk to. “That’s funny- I was actually just talking to Kyle the other day, and he mentioned you.” Milo didn’t need to know that it had been in the middle of Nell’s moonsitting. Ugh, she supposed this meant she should let him carry a couple things. “Sorry- I was just excited to get home.” She could be perfectly amiable when she wanted something, and she definitely wanted to know more about Kyle during his days around being bitten.

Milo could pinpoint the exact moment Nell began to realise who he was. He had no doubt in his mind her memories were vague, or based primarily on hearsay, but it would be hypocritical of that to bother him when his memories of her were the very same. “That’s me.” He agreed. “If you ever caught me in any compromising positions, now is the time to forget- you know, for the sake of my dignity.” He teased, laughing at his own joke. “I’d rather be judged on my new mistakes, of which I’m sure there will be many.” Her expression was far more open now, almost warm as she observed him, he wondered what she was thinking. It didn’t take her long to sate his curiosity. “Oh, you were?” He asked, his smile growing at the mention of his friend. He had only recently learned of Kyle’s lycanthropy, but strangely he found the knowledge comforting. He felt closer to him now than he had when they were at school together, despite seeing him then on a near daily basis. “What did he say? Good things, I hope?” Grinning easily, he glanced down at the plants still balanced in her arms. “Excited to get home because of this? Isn’t it a little late to be buying vegetation?” Holding out his arms, insisting she pass over some of her items, he caught her eye again, hoping she could see that he was trustworthy, and being sincere in his offer. “Here, come on… I swear I really do just want to help.”

Had she caught him in compromising positions? Maybe once or twice when they’d shared a detention, but highschool seemed so far away by now that sometimes it felt like an entirely different lifetime all together. “Sure- the sake of your dignity,” Nell echoed, biting off a teasing remark about how she wasn’t sure she could spare something he didn’t have. But she was going to be nice, she reminded herself. People didn’t talk to women about their werewolf friends if they thought they were an asshole. “But yeah- I just saw him right around the full moon,” she dropped casually, wondering if the phrase would trigger anything in Milo. Did he know about Kyle and his wolfy tendencies? “Honestly, it was so late when we were talking I barely even remember what we were saying,” she lied easily, not missing a beat. “But I doubt it was anything good if you’re that concerned,” she teased, testing the waters of what she could get away with. While he held out his arms, she let out an internal sigh, knowing she’d have to let him help if she wanted to get information from him. “I have a greenhouse,” she explained while carefully handing him a few of the plants, already feeling rather overprotective about letting him carry them. “It’s not too far from here.”

Milo grinned, glad Nell was willing to play along with his joke. “Much appreciated.” He replied, nodding his head with mock sincerity. But his smile quickly faltered as the conversation circled back around to Kyle. The full moon. It was such a specific thing to say. It jumped out at him, almost startling him out of his lighthearted demeanour. Did she know? He couldn’t see any other reason for her to mention the lunar cycle. So was she testing him? Trying to figure out whether he had also been trusted with the information? Hurrying to compose himself, he could only hope she hadn’t noticed his expression slip. “That’s a weird fucking way to measure time.” He teased, doing everything he could to sound casual. “Do you not own a calendar? Like a normal one, without moons on it?” Forcing a quiet laugh, he actually wouldn’t be surprised if Kyle had nothing decent to say about him. He wasn’t particularly worried, the reason they got along so well was due to that very fact.

Feeling a strange sense of triumph when his company finally handed over some of her plants, despite not knowing much about her, he could see how much she cared for them. He made an effort to be gentle, holding them as though they were delicate, and breakable so that he wouldn’t cause any damage. Despite genuinely wanting to be of assistance, it would also help to earn her trust, and for some unknown reason, he found he really wanted to. “Define not too far?” He prompted. “Did I accidentally volunteer to walk miles with this stuff?”

The hesitation in his smile was caught by Nell’s sharp eyes. She might not have noticed it if she hadn’t been looking for any hitch in Milo’s demeanor, but the falter was more than enough for Nell to continue her digging. “You know how White Crest is-” she began, careful to keep the levity in her words. “-always obsessed with the moon and her cycles along with ten million other weird things that wouldn’t fly in other towns. So what if my calendar has moons on it?” She didn’t need to get into the fact that Milo would be hard pressed to find a person that adored the moon more than a werewolf or spellcaster did. The two were generally unified in their waxing poetic of the big, powerful, and glowing lady in the sky. “Kyle didn’t think it was weird that I like the full moon.” Perhaps she was coming on a little too strongly, but if Milo didn’t know what she was referring to, it wouldn’t matter. Normies didn’t generally assume that any mention of the full moon and a person meant the guy in question was a werewolf.

The greenhouse was Nell’s haven, a place that only a select group of people were allowed to enter, and she already had plans to leave Milo at the door of it once they arrived on property. “Are you gonna complain after you did this to yourself?” she teased back, her steps taking them further into the dense trees of the nearby woods. The Vural home was a part of the Outskirts and the forest that made up the less populated area. “It’s just through the woods a bit.”

Milo wanted to counter Nell’s point, to tell her she was being ridiculous, and laugh at how pretentious she sounded, like he might have once upon a time. But now he knew she was right, now he knew far too much about what happened below the surface of his sleepy, unassuming hometown, and he couldn’t bring himself to disagree. “Said you and every other tumblr girl obsessed with astrology.” He muttered, figuring that would have to be enough. If he abruptly dropped his teasing then she would notice, he knew she would. “Maybe Kyle is also a tumblr girl obsessed with astrology.” He countered, his mind still working to process the strange words leaving Nell’s mouth. It all felt calculated somehow, as though she was carefully choosing them to elicit some form of reaction. But what did she want from him? What was she expecting him to say?

“Oh, I complain no matter what.” He insisted. “Did Kyle not tell you? It’s one of my more favourable traits.” He followed her as she led him into the forest, wondering where her house was located. He only knew the houses in town, and maybe a few of the buildings on the outskirts. He felt stupid for not realising some people needed to walk through wooded areas to get to their homes. “It’s just through the woods a bit sounds like the last thing somebody hears before they’re murdered.” He pointed out, offering her a smile over the plants in his arms so that she would know he wasn’t being serious. Besides, he had already been murdered once. Surely that lowered his chances of being murdered for a second time. That or he had the worst luck in the history of mankind. “You aren’t luring me out here to kill me, are you?”

Nell’s eyes rolled seemingly without command, all too used to being compared to the cottagecore girls that love to emulate spellcaster culture and teachings. The humans loved to play pretend until a real witch was staring them in the face, and they realized their fear of the unknown outweighed their desire for crystal and starry aesthetics. Subtly was not her aim while she continued on, wondering if she could simply pressure Milo into revealing whether he knew Kyle’s secret or not. “That’s why you think Kyle has a glowing moon lamp on his wall? He’s a tumblr girl? I wouldn’t be surprised if I caught him howling at it one day,” she finished with a laugh, still waiting to see whether Milo would connect the dots.

“Kyle told me lots of things,” Nell answered cryptically, having quickly abandoned her ‘nice girl’ act. Not that she wasn’t being nice anymore, just that she was letting more of her edge shine through. After all, fear could be a decent motivator as well. Of course she wasn’t actually here to murder the young man. She just wanted to know more about the time Kyle had been turned. With a laugh she shot Milo a coy look over her shoulder before answering his next question. “Oh no, I’m out of the human sacrifice phase right now.” It’d only been once that she’d spilled a human’s blood for magic, and she’d do it again if the situation was as dire, but for the most part she had no interest in taking human lives in exchange for magical power.

Milo laughed, unable to help himself. “I’ve never been to Kyle’s place so I have zero knowledge of moon lamps. I have, however, seen them advertised on Instagram, so it still fits with the aesthetic.” Keeping his expression neutral at the mention of howling, it was becoming very obvious to him that Nell knew Kyle was a werewolf. He almost wanted to ask her how she knew, but if he admitted to also knowing then he would come very close to outing himself as a part of the supernatural world. Nell wasn’t his friend, this was the most they had ever spoken, so he refused to willingly make himself vulnerable. Raising his eyebrows in a show of polite interest, despite attempting to seem casual, his gaze was sharp, watching Nell for any sign or tell that might imply she was aware of his ‘undead’ status.

“He did?” He asked, almost daring her to tell him what was said. Surely Kyle wouldn’t have confided in her like that. There seemed to be an unspoken rule among the people he had met so far; you never told somebody else what a person was if you didn’t have permission to do so. Maybe there were exceptions to the rule, things he didn’t understand just yet, but he trusted Kyle not to out him. In the same way he hoped Kyle knew he could be trusted not to tell people he was a werewolf. “Hm, good to know.” He muttered in response to the joke on human sacrifice. He was glad they were able to move back into familiar territory. He enjoyed teasing, he was good at teasing. And it carried them further away from both Kyle’s predicament, and his own. “Because I’m sure I’d be a pretty useless sacrifice. Whatever demon you worship would probably send me back and ask for a working replacement.”

“Really? It sounded like you were good friends the way he told it,” Nell commented smoothly, not actually having all that much interest in the closeness of their friendship at the moment, but figuring she should at least pretend. But her patience was wearing thin, and either Milo knew what she was speaking of or he didn’t. So with a huff and turn of her heel, she would have folded her arms over her chest if she hadn’t been holding the plants. Fixing Milo with her hardest stare, she carried on nonetheless. “Look- you either know what I’m talking about or you don’t. So just tell me if you know or not, and then we can move on.” If he thought her weird and demanding he wouldn't be the first, and most certainly not the last, but she didn’t really care about the opinion a random person from highschool might form from this interaction as long as she got to ask the questions she wanted answers to.

“He sure did,” Nell replied with the beginnings of a smirk, giving Milo nothing when he seemed determined to do the same. Let him wonder at what Kyle had shared. Maybe he’d reveal too much by asking his own questions. “Why? Were you worried he said something about you?” It was a stab in the dark, and she had no real reason to think Milo might be worried about things he’d rather keep private. But she knew most people had something they wanted to hide. Milo most likely wouldn’t be an exception. She let him laugh at what he perceived to be a joke, waiting with a natural face until he was done, making no effort to join in. “I’m glad you thought it was funny. Demons don’t work like that, though.” Still, she was somewhat amused that he'd managed to stumble onto the demon portion of her magic. Not that he knew that.

They were close to the Vural property now, and the moonlight could be seen glittering on the glass of her greenhouse in the backyard of the house as the woods began to open up.

“We were.” Milo clarified. “Way back when we were at school. I ran into him the other day but… that was the first time in years.” He couldn’t understand why Nell was taking such an interest, but every word out of her mouth seemed to set him more on edge. There had to be an ulterior motive here, only he couldn’t understand what it might be. His eyes widening as she suddenly decided to take a direct approach, one he definitely hadn’t been expecting, his step faltered. He wasn’t able to hide his surprise, but he did everything he could to compose himself quickly. A few beats of silence passed before he managed to find his words again, and he knew it was essentially too late. But if he admitted he knew what Kyle was, he admitted to knowing about the supernatural. That was one step too close to her realising he was a part of that world too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snapped. “And you’re being really fucking weird.” He gripped at her plants, angry at himself for offering to carry them. If his hands were free he would be able to walk away from this, remove himself from the situation.

Glaring at his company, his chest tightening at her words, he wondered whether Kyle really had told her what he was. For all he knew, she hated vampires. Maybe she really did intend to kill him out here in the middle of nowhere. Who knew of his location? Nobody, and he didn’t have time to shoot anyone a text. If he disappeared now, he disappeared forever. Only Nell would ever know what happened to him. The thought caused his stomach to churn uncomfortably. “Why should I be worried?” He demanded, kicking at brush, and brambles as he passed through them. “Forgive me for not knowing how demons work.” He added, more convinced than ever that this might actually be the end for him. Surely she wouldn’t risk hurting her plants though. At least he had that. She needed to wait until he put them down, and then he could reevaluate the situation. Maybe even make a break for it.

“Really? Why’d you guys lose touch?” Did it have to do with the whole werewolf thing? Nell continued to pry, her nosiness knowing now bounds as she tried to learn more about Kyle around the time he was bitten. If she understood him and his control then, maybe it would help with teaching him control now. The second show of surprise on his face only made the witch feel even more confident about her choice to confront him, even if he wasn’t giving anything specific away. She supposed if there was one thing to be said about Milo— it was that he was loyal. Which was unfortunate for her in this situation. Still, it was good that Kyle had friends who wouldn’t easily out him. Not that she should care about Kyle and whether his friends were suitable. His snappy response had her lips pursing, her temper flaring for a moment even though she knew she’d been the cause of Milo’s new shortness. “And you’re being really fucking rude.” She was used to being called weird, and though she’d set herself up for it, the word still held the gravity of all the times she’d been ostracized for being ‘weird’ while growing up— especially when coming from the mouth of an old classmate. “But if you wanna be a little shit about it, be my guest.”

She rolled her eyes at his comment about demons, no longer interested in curbing her words or being overtly nice now that it seemed he wasn’t going to give her any information. Nell hadn’t meant the words in a correctional way. They’d been more along the lines of informational. “Maybe you should be worried cause you’re acting exactly how people who have secrets would act.” Finally they’d arrived at her greenhouse, and she set her own plants on the ground so she could raise a charmed key to the door. If Milo hadn’t been here she would have used her magic to undo the lock that would respond only to her magical signature, but it’s be difficult to explain such a thing away. “You can put the plants down now,” she commented dryly, suddenly eager to get rid of the guy.

“We used to smoke in the bathrooms at school together. That’s not exactly something you keep doing after you graduate.” Milo pointed out. Not every friendship had a foundation strong enough to last. He knew Kyle because they shared a passion for breaking trivial school rules, and often wound up in the same detentions. Spending time together because you were essentially running on a schedule wasn’t quite the same as actively arranging to stay in contact. He was incredibly glad he had run into Kyle outside of the university, more than grateful considering Kyle was a part of his terrifying new world. But had they not crossed paths again, reaching out probably wouldn’t ever have crossed his mind. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that. “I’m being rude for pointing out you’re being weird?” He asked. “That’s bullshit.” Maybe he should feel guilty for being so cold, it was very possible Nell had good intentions. But until he knew for sure, he wasn’t giving in. And if he genuinely didn’t know about Kyle then this defensive anger would be coming very naturally to him. “I’m not being a little shit about anything, you’re the one demanding information I don’t fucking have.”

Narrowing his eyes as Nell came to a halt in front of the door to a greenhouse, he couldn’t exactly tell her she was wrong. He did have secrets. But then again, so did everybody. He definitely wasn’t alone in that fact. “Or maybe you’re projecting.” He countered, though he had no reason to believe she was. Watching as she opened the door, it suddenly struck him that a greenhouse might count as a part of her private dwelling. There was little chance of him being able to set the plants down inside if she didn’t first invite him in. He wasn’t sure whether she would be content with him putting them down on the floor, so he hovered awkwardly in the doorway, realising after a few moments had passed that she really wasn’t about to invite him inside. Despite him carrying her plants for her, despite him trying to make polite conversation. He had only been met with a confrontational attitude, and apparently now a distinct lack of thanks. Finally putting down the plants in his arms, lining them up beside the doorway he was trapped in, when he straightened up again, he was more than ready to shoot his company a glare. “What?” He demanded, unable to help himself. “You really aren’t going to invite me in?”

“Yeah, it’s fucking rude,” Nell shot back, her own temper stoked by the appearance of Milo’s. “You think you can just go around calling people weird?” It was more the principle of the matter than anything, the fact that Milo seemingly thought he had a right to call her names and get away with it. She snorted at his claim of ignorance, still not entirely sold when it came to him knowing nothing. “I’m asking, you’re the one getting all offended about it. Which makes you a little shit,” she replied snarkily, a smugness entering her voice.

A roll of Nell’s eyes, and she was fixing him with a withering glare from inside her greenhouse. “I don’t give a shit about people knowing stuff about me.” Or at least she specifically didn’t really mind if someone knew she was a witch. In honesty she thought it beneficial that people knew of her power. If people knew she and her sisters had power, they’d be less likely to mess with them. As for the more personal feelings in her life- those were the things she was bad at sharing, and letting people in on. She might have thanked him if she’d wanted his help in the first place, but now she wasn’t all that keen on giving him the satisfaction. At first she was pleased, and now surprised that he hadn’t walked into her greenhouse of his own accord. Had the guy finally decided to show some manners? The choice of his words were rather specific, and had her head cocking to the side with intrigue. He wanted her to invite him in? Arranging her new plants on a nearby worktable, a bulb of garlic caught her eye, and a flicker of connection fired in her brain. Well...there was only one way to find out if her newest suspicion was anything of substance. With a quick and easy flick of her wrist, she launched the garlic towards Milo without warning, savoring the flash of satisfaction she felt from the childish move. “No- I don’t think I will.”

“I mean, if they’re being weird then I don’t see an issue with it.” Milo countered, an edge to his voice to match the edge in Nell’s voice. He wasn’t exactly sure how they had ended up where they were but as far as he was concerned, she was entirely to blame. Maybe if she hadn’t pushed him, maybe if she wasn’t so desperate to talk about Kyle. “I’m not getting offended.” He added, crossing his arms over his chest as he continued to wait in the doorway. “I’m getting annoyed, there’s a distinct fucking difference.” Letting out a huff of breath, he didn’t care how she felt about people knowing her information. Even if she was projecting, he was hardly interested in learning her secrets. They were probably more akin to which manure makes the best fertilizer, anyway. Something he would be more than happy to tell her.

In fact, he was in the process of opening his mouth to do so when he was distracted by her suddenly, and very pointedly throwing an object at him. Instinctively, he reached up to cover his face. But it wasn’t until the object hit him that he was able to discern what it was. If his body’s reaction to the plant wasn’t enough to give it away, the scent was very nearly overwhelming. It was a bulb of garlic. An actual bulb of garlic. Who even grew their own? He couldn’t understand why Nell would go to the effort when you could literally buy it pre-crushed in jars. Immediately feeling a jolt of disorientation, he scrambled to bat it away, fangs protruding, eyes flashing red as the skin it made contact with began to sting. “What the fuck?” He demanded, righting himself to stare at Nell with open disbelief. He wasn’t sure whether she had chosen the garlic on purpose, or accidentally stumbled upon what he was, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew there was no point in trying to hide from her. Not now. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He raised his voice, his indignation only growing as he was given time to fully process what had happened. “Did you just- you just threw garlic at me!”

You really aren’t going to invite me in? Milo’s words were thrown into clarity as she watched the flash of his fangs appear, and his apparent aversion for the plant became clear. “You’re a vampire.” Nell’s words weren’t so much a question as a means of telling him she’d seen the changes, and put the earlier and smaller hints together that she hadn’t thought to put as much stock in. Her stance took on an even more guarded pose, not knowing Milo well enough to feel confident in making a judgment on whether he was a vampire more along the lines of someone like Harsh, or someone more murderous or bloodthirsty. Either way she certainly wasn’t going to be inviting him into her greenhouse now. The witch’s arms folded across her chest, cocking her hip to the side as she gave the young man a thorough up and down, sizing him up in that same way she used to measure threats in the Ring. “So that’s why you were being so squirrely?” Did Milo being a vampire mean he was more likely to know of Kyle’s werewolf status?

“No shit. What gave it away?” Milo bit out, brushing himself down as he retracted his fangs, making a point of continuing to glare at Nell. He watched her as she shifted to take a more guarded stance, one that made it clear she was now actively scrutinizing him. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for, but he felt himself shrink a little under her gaze regardless. It was impossible to know what she was capable of, it was impossible to know what anybody in White Crest was capable of. Though he wasn’t exactly holding a torch for self preservation, if she decided to attack, his only real option would be to run. So he opted to stay where he was for now, awkwardly rubbing at his wrist where it had come into contact with the garlic. All he could do was stay silent, and hope she wasn’t trying to figure out where best to plunge a wooden stake. His skin was no longer stinging but the ghost of the feeling was there, he tried not to let it distract him. “I wasn’t being squirrely. Fuck you. You’re the one asking weirdly specific questions about somebody who isn’t even here!” He pointed out, indignant in the face of the accusation. “I know why, by the way. You’re not being subtle.”

Nell didn’t hesitate to return Milo’s glare, still not even entirely certain how they’d gotten to this point in the first place. Maybe she’d pushed too hard, but that wasn’t anything new for her. It was another one of the many reasons people in highschool had avoided the witch. There weren’t many people who took kindly to her abrasive personality, and it had been even more extreme back in those days. “Well most vampires walk like they have a stick up their ass so that was probably it.” Sorry Harsh. She made the mental apology to her friend, not actually believing the words, but wanting some childish way to retort Milo’s snark. Nell didn’t actually have anything against vampires so long as they weren’t witch hunters like Miriam, or lacked control in a way that made them a constant and active threat to others. “You were being squirrely. Basically dancing around my questions and shit, and getting all uppity.” Her eyes rolled again. “I gave up trying to be subtle about fifteen minutes ago, I’m not stupid enough to come on that strongly without being aware of it.” She’d learned that well enough through her time as a monster catcher and bounty hunter. “So you know Kyle’s a werewolf, then.” At least they’d gotten it out in the open. “Did you know when he was changed?” Now she could ask her questions point-blank.

Milo let out a huff of breath. “Oh, yeah? Have you ever thought maybe that’s just the vampires having to deal with you?” He countered. He wasn’t sure how they had managed to go from a genuine conversation to what could almost be considered an argument. But he wasn’t about to back down, it wasn’t in his nature. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure she wanted him to. “Because you were trying to get me to out a friend!” He explained, wondering whether she might be able to understand his reasoning, maybe even appreciate it. She had made it relatively clear she knew what Kyle was, but she could have been using him to get confirmation, to go behind his back. He would never forgive himself if he gave information to the wrong person, especially information that wasn’t his to give. “Without knowing what you know, did you honestly expect me to just come out and just say it? We aren’t friends, Nell. We said like two words together throughout the whole of high school.”

Narrowing his eyes when she brushed off his comment, insisting she hadn’t been aiming for subtlety, he waited, wondering whether she was going to say the words out loud. Say what they both knew, what he was continuing to carefully dance around. And then she did, and it was as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Yes.” He said finally. “Did he tell you that?” It still felt strange, talking about it with a stranger. The least he could do was find out whether Kyle had confided in her, or if she had somehow pried the information out of him. If he had willingly been honest with her then he would begrudgingly accept the fact that she could be trusted. “Why?” He asked, some of his anger beginning to fade away. He was curious now, more so than anything else. “Do you mean did he tell me when it first happened? Or just… do I know when it happened in like, the timeline of our lives?”

“No it’s definitely a you problem,” Nell quipped back, unwilling to take any responsibility. “And I wasn’t trying to get you to out a friend. I was seeing if you already knew. It should have been obvious that I knew by the way I was asking- so you wouldn’t have been ‘outing’. Unless you’re too clueless to connect the dots between me talking about the moon and Kyle. You literally just said I wasn’t being subtle, though.” She rolled her eyes at the mention of them not being friends. As if she cared about something like that when it came to the random guy from highschool.

“Yeah, we talked about it.” That’s all Milo needed to know when it came to what she and Kyle had spoken of, the deeper conversation they’d gotten into with sleep still tugging at their eyes and the sun barely glinting over the horizon on Kyle’s patio. Her stubbornness made her balk at Milo’s request for why she wanted to know, but she doubted he’d answer her questions if she wholly refused to reply to his. “I’m trying to help him,” she supplied vaguely. “And I mean the second one- do you know when it happened in his life and stuff.”

Milo narrowed his eyes, but stayed quiet, allowing Nell to answer him despite her attitude making him want to interrupt. It would be so easy to cut her off, to argue, but he held his tongue. Resisting the urge so that he could hear what she had to say to him. It didn’t take long for his patience to falter, though. For his frustration to grow exponentially. Could she really be so oblivious? “You weren’t being subtle.” He bit out. “But for all I knew you only suspected Kyle. Isn’t that the oldest fucking trick in the book? Pretending someone confided in you so that you can get information on them from the people they actually trust?” Letting out a huff of breath when his company rolled her eyes, it was everything he could do not to turn around and leave. He only had two reasons to stay. He wanted to know more about Kyle, more about Nell, about the friendship they apparently shared. And he was also incredibly confident his continued presence would annoy her. If he left now he would only be giving her what she wanted, and he was petty. Undeniably so.

“That’s all you’re giving me?” He asked. “You talked about it?” Coming to realise she was never going to give him the information he wanted solely because she knew he wanted it, he decided to focus on what she was telling him. Or more accurately what she was asking him. “Do you think he needs help?” He hadn’t considered the fact that maybe his friend wasn’t coping. His version of support usually consisted of sharing a drink, and talking until the sun began to rise. What if Kyle needed more than that? Mechanisms that were actually considered healthy by society. He wasn’t any good with those. “Yeah, I know when it happened. I mean, obviously I didn’t at the time. I knew something was up, but it was only after seeing him again that he told me why he started acting so shady way back...”

“Oh my god, I know I wasn’t being subtle. I literally just said that was the point- that was I was doing it on purpose.” It was becoming rather apparent that something just wasn’t aligning all that properly between Nell and Milo, and the witch was starting to wonder if perhaps they were two people who simply tended to get along like water and oil. Or maybe it was just the conversation they’d chosen. Either way, she was annoyed. She mirrored Milo’s huff, while her eyes gave yet another roll. Nell had lost count of how many times she’d done it since their conversation had begun. “You’re the one who came up to me, remember? If I was actively trying to find out if Kyle was a werewolf, I would have orchestrated some way for us to meet. Not some stupid chance thing.” She’d done it countless times while she looked for bounties.

“I’m not telling you what we talked about,” Nell replied haughtily. It wasn’t any of Milo’s business, and it wasn’t as if she was going to tell a guy who’d only annoyed the shit out her thus far about the traumas she and Kyle had shared. “It’d be shitty when it was just for Kyle and me.” As for Kyle needing help...that was a question Nell was more willing to answer. Even though Milo was unbearable, he was Kyle’s friend. Someone that might care to help. And Kyle needed all the help he could get. But she didn’t want to outrightly expose Kyle, and she remembered how he’d wanted to set the boundary of requesting help from others. But still...she worried. “It’s...not easy adjusting to being a werewolf on your own.” That was the most specific she could get without outrightly saying he suffered with control. “He hasn’t had anyone to teach him.” She was disappointed that Milo hadn’t known at the time, but intrigued by the mention of Kyle having acted differently. “He started acting shady, how?”

Milo set his jaw. He was over Nell’s attitude, much like he suspected she was over his own. And his desire to hear what she had left to say was infuriating. Why couldn’t he just turn and leave? It should be easy to abandon their ridiculous conversation. “Yeah, I was trying to be nice. That might be a foriegn concept to you.” He snapped. It wasn’t fair that he was being blamed for how their interaction had played out. He had approached her with good intentions, it was utterly undeniable. “How am I supposed to know what he’s told you and what he hasn’t? Jeez.” He ran a hand through his hair, doing his best to expel his agitated energy. “I don’t need to know what you talked about. I think I just need to get out of here.” The longer they spoke, the more apparent it was becoming that they weren’t going to find a common ground. Maybe in another situation, under a different circumstance. But certainly not here, and certainly not right now.

He actually turned to leave, finally finding the motivation, before Nell hesitated. He noticed it, noticed the way she faltered at his question, and it made him wonder just how much he had yet to learn about Kyle. “No shit.” He muttered, stopping in his tracks. “It isn’t easy adjusting to being a vampire either.” His heart ached at the thought of Kyle, so young and scared. But there was nothing he could do to change the past. All he could do now was focus on the future, on being there for Kyle in any way he was able. “I know how that feels.” Pushing his glasses further up his nose, his expression momentarily softening, he caught Nell’s eye. Sharing in her concern, in her obvious affection for the werewolf. “It doesn’t matter.” He brushed off her request for him to elaborate, knowing the information wasn’t important. It wouldn’t help anybody now. “Just- I don’t know, be there for him, I guess. And I’ll do the same. We don’t have to like each other.”

Nell didn’t bother even considering that he’d claimed to be making an attempt at being nice, past the point of caring either way. And if he wanted to leave she certainly wouldn’t stop him. But then again...she hasn’t quite gotten to ask everything she’d wanted to. And though she was more than willing to try and bully the answers from him, she tried to think of Kyle— how upset he might be if he heard that she’d done her best to force answers from his friend. So she bit her tongue— quite literally digging her teeth into it in an attempt to exercise the very limited restraint she held. “Then go,” she replied, trying her best not to reignite the animosity in their conversation.

But then Milo had to go and insinuate that...perhaps he related a little more to Kyle than not. A reluctant prickle of sympathy flickered in her gut, and she did her best to squash it down for the time being. She was already barely treading water when it came to helping Kyle, and she shouldn’t add a vampire who had proven annoying as hell to her plate. Still...maybe she’d message him later, and try and figure out just how much Milo was like Kyle. But being there for Kyle was something she could do. And despite her argument with Milo— she was glad to hear it was something he was planning on as well. “Great. Then we’ll...watch out for Kyle.” Her stubbornness and petty nature made it hard to agree with the vampire who’d been a frustration. Still...in the end Kyle was more important. With a still angry shake of her head, she watched Milo as he left the property, and waited until he was out of sight to turn back to her greenhouse. She’d bother Milo later.

#// shoutout to jessie for being literally the most patient person in the universe <3 #ch:milo #chatzy #garlic dread

4 notes · View notes

follow-your-fire · 4 years ago

Text

In your tender hands

Rating: Explicit/NC-17

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur (Merlin)

Written for bottom Arthur fest 2020

@bottom-arthur

“You need to get that stick out of your ass. And you need to relax.”

Arthur bristles a little at the choice of words but holds himself back. “It’s a massage, not a holiday. How is that gonna relieve my stress?”

Freya gives him an incredulous look. “You’re an idiot. Have you never had a massage before?” she asks, and it’s obvious that the question is mostly rhetorical. Which is probably the main reason why her eyes grow twice their size at the lack of response. “Oh my God, Arthur! Seriously?!”

“You did what?” Arthur nearly spits out his coffee, glaring daggers at his assistant.

Freya only rolls her eyes at the dramatic response. “You heard me. I booked you in for one hour when you take your break.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” He rubs at his eyes in frustration. “How the hell am I supposed to squeeze a massage in? My break is one hour too, plus the commute, plus I want to have lunch.”

“You’re acting like I don’t know your schedule off the top of my head. How long have I been working for you?”

“Two years,” he replies automatically, taking a moment to appreciate the fact.

All in all, Freya is a wonderful assistant. Arthur knows she’s the only reason why he hasn’t had a mental breakdown yet. She’s punctual and diligent. Stubborn as hell and as ruthless as they come. It’s kind of a double-edged sword though. While she gets the job done - actually goes beyond her line of duty - she also takes great pleasure in bossing Arthur around. And of course, Arthur being the push-over he is, lets her get away with it.

So yeah, Freya is a godsent who saves Arthur from losing it on a daily basis. But she’s also the spawn of the Devil who loves to discover all the ways to drive him nuts.

“And four months,” she corrects. “So cut me some slack, Princess.”

Ignoring the jab - because really, Freya, it’s getting old - he comes back to his previous point of concern. “Then you should know that my schedule is fully packed today.”

“Not anymore,” she announces smugly, walking over to her desk to pick up the iPad before she returns to Arthur’s office. “I moved Masa to tomorrow at 11:15 and Cutforth to Friday at 2 pm, which gives you,” she does a quick count, “two hours and fifteen minutes for your break.” She closes the iPad, smiling victoriously. “Now, stop fretting and make sure you leave on time. I booked you for 12.:15. The commute is about fifteen minutes and you should be there at least five minutes in advance.” She grabs a pen and a post-it-note from his desk, scribbling quickly. “There,” she says, tearing the note off. “This is the address.”

“The enchanted cave,” he reads in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Shut up, Arthur. Merlin is the best there is. He put me back together after I lost my parents. He’s usually fully booked weeks in advance. You’re lucky that he has a soft spot for me and let me squeeze you in.”

Arthur turns more solemn at the mention of Freya’s parent’s untimely passing. It doesn’t make him any less confused, though.

“Sounds more like a shrink to me than a masseur,” he thinks out loud.

“He might as well be,” she laughs, affection evident in her voice, which softens Arthur’s irritation somewhat. “You need to get that stick out of your ass. And you need to relax.”

Arthur bristles a little at the choice of words but holds himself back. “It’s a massage, not a holiday. How is that gonna relieve my stress?”

“I don’t have time for self-pampering,” he grumbles defensively.

“That’s exactly why you have to make the time!”

“That’s quite an oxymoron.”

“Shush.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Really, Arthur. You need to unwind.”

“I don’t-”

“Arthur,” she groans impatiently. “Go. Get. The. Massage. I’m gonna make sure you leave on time and I will check with Merlin that you actually turned up.”

“I think you’re confusing who’s the boss and who’s the subordinate here.”

“I think you’re full of shit and need to shut up and listen to someone smarter than you.” She turns on her heel and walks out of the office before Arthur has a chance to retort anything back. “Don’t be a prat, Arthur. For once in your life, do something nice for yourself.” And with that, she shuts the door behind her.

Arthur arrives at the place at 12:07, just in time to walk to the door as a woman walks out. He steps to the side, waiting for her to pass.

“Arthur?”

He snaps his head up from where he was blankly staring at the side-walk. “Oh. Hey, Mithian,” he greets when he recognizes one of his long-time friends.

“Don’t hey me and give me a proper hug hello,” she complains and doesn’t waste any time to rise on her tiptoes and wrap him in her arms. Arthur returns the hug with a smile on his face.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been great but how have you been? I haven’t heard from you in ages,” she scolds him gently.

“Been busy.”

“Aren’t you always,” she scoffs, sympathetic. “Nice to see you’re finally doing something for yourself,” she says, getting a confused look. “You’re coming for a massage, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I am. My assistant made me.” Oh, shit. That shouldn’t have come out.

Predictably, Mithian bursts into giggles. “Figures.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, Arthur. Someone needs to look out for you if you don’t,” she explains, her eyes soft and a wave of affection washes over Arthur as he remembers his uni years and their brief but lovely time together as a couple.

Now that he thinks of it, Freya reminds him of Mithian a lot. It occurs to him he’s attracted to a certain type of person. Not necessarily in a romantic sense but more in general.

His sister is like that too. All fiery and strong-willed, calling Arthur names on a good day, but when it comes to it, she’s a protective mother-hen.

So is his best friend. Lance is usually calm and collected but doesn’t hesitate to call Arthur on his bullshit, in the most loving way, though. So does Gwen. Those two really rub off on each other.

What is it with him attracting people into his life who spend most of their time scolding or mothering him? He needs to look into it later.

“I still don’t see how this is supposed to help.” He shrugs indifferently.

“Oh, you’ll see. Just wait for it.” And good grief, she winks at him. “I need to get going. Let me know how it went. You have my number, right?” Arthur nods. “Great. Also, it wouldn’t kill you to get in touch here and there, you know?”

Sighing guiltily, he humors her. “I will.”

“You’d better. Okay, gotta go. Enjoy yourself!” She blows him a kiss and takes off.

He very much doubts he’s gonna enjoy himself but if he’s lucky, maybe he’ll get to nap while the guy gets handsy with him. He could use an extra hour of sleep. God knows the five hours he’s come to consider his routine are not cutting it anymore.

He sighs in relief as he walks through the door to find a rather unassuming lobby. Given the name of the business, he expected the place to live up to its cringeiness but thankfully there are no tacky lights, no magical crystals scattered around, no candles in every corner, nor every surface. The only thing that can be considered a bit spiritual or whatever is the incense perched on the counter, right next to the business cards and leaflets. Thankfully, the scent is very subtle and doesn’t trigger a headache.

“Good afternoon! You must be Arthur,” says a voice to his left and Arthur nearly jumps out of his skin. He didn’t even notice anyone in the room with him.

As he looks over in the direction the voice came from, he finds a man, presumably his masseur - Mark, Matt? - standing in the door leading to what Arthur guesses is the massage room.

“Oh. Hey. Yeah, that would be me.” He turns to face the man, straightening his back. He must look out of place, clad in his suit, still wearing his tie.

The man approaches him with a smile. “I’m Merlin. It’s nice to meet you, finally. Freya talks about you quite a bit.”

Arthur reaches to grasp his hand when Merlin offers it, giving it a firm shake. “Don’t believe anything the little minx lets out of her mouth.” He attempts a joke, hoping his discomfort at being told his assistant talks about him is not too obvious.

He must succeed because Merlin is throwing his head back with a laugh. “She said you would say that,” he teases. “That’s alright. I like to make up my own mind.”

Arthur withdraws his hand and gives him a stiff smile. Outside of work, he has no idea how to make a decent conversation. Not upon the first meeting anyway.

Tilting his head inquiringly, Merlin asks, “You seem quite tense. Is everything alright?”

“It’s just... Look. I know you’re busy, Freya said so. And I appreciate you making time for me. But,” he huffs, knowing he’s gonna sound like a jerk no matter how he phrases it, “I don’t really care for massage much but Freya insisted. She can be fucking scary sometimes. Don’t tell her that though! And I just... I feel really out of place, okay?”

He expects to see Merlin’s expression sour, thinking Arthur is just a pompous douche. He wouldn’t even blame him. But, to his bewilderment, the man’s face is nothing but open, not a single trace of judgement.

“I won’t, I promise,” he says with humor. “If you don’t mind me asking - have you had a bad experience in the past?”

“More like no experience at all.”

For the first time, Merlin looks caught off guard. “You never had a massage?”

“No. I just never saw the point. And anyway, I don’t really have time to spare. The only reason I’m here is that Freya did some magic with my schedule and cleared it up enough to give me two hours off today.”

“Oh.” Merlin suddenly perks up. “In that case, I’d like to show you some of my magic, if you let me.”

Arthur’s brain short-circuits for a moment. Did he just hear what he thinks he did? Or is he so tired he started hallucinating? Plus, his dry spell of six months is probably not helping either.

“Um... I... magic?”

“Yeah, you know...” Merlin sweeps his hand over the lobby. “The enchanted cave? Seems fitting?”

“Oh.” Arthur chokes out. “Right. Right...”

“Oh God, I just realized how cheesy that sounds,” Merlin reflects with a hint of embarrassment. “Anyway, I should stop talking. You didn’t come here for a chat, after all.” He steps to the side, gesturing towards the massage room. “I’d just finished setting it up before you came in, so it’s all ready for you.”

Arthur gets the hint and with a deep breath, he makes his way to the room. Unlike the lobby, it’s bathed in a soft yellow light and.... yup, those are candles alright. No crystals, though.

Merlin is right on his heels. “I’ll let you undress in private, to your level of comfort.You can hang your clothes here, or you can just fold them and put them on this chair.” He gestures to the chair in the corner. “After that, lie down on the massage table, on your stomach, this way around. You see the sheet over there? That’s for you to cover yourself with. I’ll be back in a few minutes when you’re ready. Do you have any questions? Requests?”

So many questions. He goes with the most concerning one. “Yeah, um, when you say my level of comfort...” He cuts himself off. Thankfully, Merlin picks up on it.

“Whatever works for you, really. I can even massage you with your clothes on, although...” He gives Arthur a quick once-over, “I can’t imagine it would be comfortable for you.”

Yeah, no. Definitely not. And he has to go back to work after and he’s sure that showing up in a wrinkled suit would earn him a few judgmental looks.

“But really, it’s up to you. You can keep your clothes on, or just your underwear. If you’d prefer to be completely naked, that works too.”

Arthur hopes the dim lighting of the room conceals his blush. There’s no reason why a man of 32 years should blush at the thought of being naked.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Merlin echoes with an encouraging smile. “Be back soon.”

Arthur releases a relieved breath when Merlin closes the door behind him. This whole thing is even more awkward than he expected. Merlin seems like an alright bloke, if a bit odd but Arthur supposes that comes with the job. He seems nice though, with all the reassurances and effort he put into making sure Arthur is comfortable.

He wonders how many male clients Merlin gets. So far, he knows that Freya and Mithian are swept away by him. Although it’s hard to tell if it’s because of his supposedly outstanding massage skills or his looks.

He groans internally and maybe even a bit out loud. Nope, don’t even go there. No hitting on your masseur. Yeah, that wouldn’t end well. Not with Merlin about to spend the next hour gliding his large hands over Arthur’s whole body.

A shiver runs down his spine and in an attempt to push his thoughts away, he begins undressing, starting with his tie. He hangs his jacket and shirt on the hanger by the door and the rest he puts on the chair, just as Merlin instructed. In no time, he’s standing there clad only in his underwear, debating whether to leave that on or not.

To hell with it. Merlin must have seen it all already.

He ends up ridding himself of his briefs too, face going aflame as he adds them to the pile on the chair and rushes to climb onto the table, settling on his stomach and doing his best to arrange the sheet Merlin provided for him so it covers him as much as possible.

A minute or two pass with him fidgeting in his position. Whether it’s from discomfort or nerves, he doesn’t know, but then Merlin is knocking gently on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Y-yeah,” he calls hoarsely, grateful Merlin can’t see his face.

The door clicks open and Merlin walks into the room, speaking from somewhere to Arthur’s left. “You probably already figured but one hour allows for a full body massage. Is that alright with you? Or do you want me to forgo any areas? Or spend some more time on a specific one?”

Logically, Arthur knows these are all valid questions but they do nothing to help him relax. More like the opposite.

“Um, no, that’s... you can do whatever you want.”

“Alright. Any contraindications I should know about?”

“I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re asking.” Oh God, what did I just say? Stop trying to be funny, Arthur!

It draws a boisterous laugh from Merlin, easing some of Arthur’s tension. “Thanks for clarifying,” he says, catching his breath. “Any injuries?”

“No. I twisted my ankle playing football, but that was years ago.”

“Okay, good.” There is some rustling and thumping, then Merlin speaks again. “Do you care for any specific scent? I’ve got a variety of essential oils, energizing or calming. I have a special blend for stress relief if you’d be interested.”

Arthur winces a little at the fact he’s so easy to read. “Um... sure. But maybe not too much? I still need to go back to work after this.”

“Duly noted,” Merlin promises and busies himself with what Arthur assumes is mixing the oils or something.

Thankfully, he doesn’t take long, preventing Arthur from driving himself into a frenzy. He doesn’t know why he’s so flustered about all of this. So he never had a massage, so what? People do it all the time.

It’s just then that he notices that music is playing but it’s so soft it could almost escape his hearing. He focuses on listening in hopes of distracting himself.

“Okay, I’m all set. I’ll start with dry massage, working my way down from your shoulders. That alright with you?”

Yeah, he never had a massage but he’s pretty sure that asking for affirmation every two minutes isn’t how this usually works. It occurs to him that Merlin is doing this only for him.

He’s equal parts irritated and touched by it.

“Yeah.”

Gently, Merlin places his hands on his shoulders over the sheet. It’s just a simple touch, not even on his bare skin, but Arthur swears he can feel the heat of Merlin’s hands seeping into his own body and spreading throughout. He suppresses a sigh.

“I’ll start with medium pressure. Let me know if it’s too much or if you’d like me to go harder.”

Arthur hopes the whimper that makes it past his lips is not very audible. He clears his throat to cover it up.

Merlin doesn’t say anything. Instead, he presses his hands into the tense muscles of Arthur’s upper back, finding all the right spots from the get go.

A guttural groan escapes Arthur before he knows it.

“Too much?” Merlin asks, stilling his movement.

“N-no. No, it’s... it’s good. Just didn’t... expect it.”

“Good. Let me know if it changes.”

He stays on that area for a few minutes, lingering when he finds a sensitive spot, working out the kink. It’s a curious combination of pain-pleasure and Arthur is not sure if that’s what it’s supposed to feel like, but he knows it leaves him all pliant and floaty, so it’s probably alright.

Merlin makes his way down the spine, to his lower back, then goes back up and pays the same attention to his arms and hands.

He walks around the table and starts working on the legs.

Arthur releases a shuddering breath. He just had a leg-day in the gym yesterday and damn, can he feel it. Merlin’s touch is like a balm on his sore muscles and he exhales as pain gives way to relief.

It’s not long before Merlin comes back to the head of the table, hands grasping at the sheet.

“I’ll move onto the oil part now, yeah?”

“Okay.” At this point, Arthur will take anything. Why has he never done this before?

Merlin pulls the sheet down to his lower back, folding it over and leaving his back and arms exposed. The air of the room is not chilly by any means but Arthur shudders all the same.

There is a slick sound as Merlin covers his hands with oil before bringing them to Arthur’s shoulders again, spreading the oil over the whole expanse of his back and arms. Although the pressure is not as hard now, with the oil easing the way, Arthur finds this part even more intense, Merlin’s touch nearly searing without any barrier between them.

He glides his palms, fingers and forearms over Arthur’s back with long, confident strokes, then switches to short, firmer ones, alternating between the two.

Arthur’s vaguely aware he’s all but melting on the spot, feeling almost detached from his body despite every nerve ending being on fire.

At some point as Merlin rubs at the tense muscles of his neck, he slides his hands into Arthur’s hair, at the base of his skull, rubbing in circular motions.

This time, it’s definitely a whimper that Arthur lets out, blushing furiously.

“S-sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Arthur,” Merlin instructs in a gentle voice. “You carry a lot of tension here. Plenty of people do but you even more so. Just let go.”

Against his better judgment, he does just that. As Merlin’s hands continue their ministrations, he lets out a series of little huffs and whimpers, unable to stop himself when he starts.

“That’s it. Just let go,” Merlin repeats and puts more force behind his touch, making Arthur’s noises grow in volume.

He both welcomes and mourns the loss when Merlin’s hands leave him in order to grab a hot towel and wipe the remaining layer of oil from his back before covering him with the sheet again.

“I’ll move to your legs now, okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

He’s surprised when Merlin touches his shoulder, prompting him to lift his head. “Since I’m finished with your back, you can have a pillow if you want. It might be more comfortable for you.”

Arthur doesn’t object in the slightest, taking the pillow Merlin’s holding and resting his right cheek on it, sliding his hands underneath. Yeah, much more comfortable.

“Thanks,” he mumbles almost sleepily and hears Merlin chuckle.

“You’re very welcome.”

Then, Merlin is exposing his left leg, tucking the sheet in the space between his legs and over his hip, revealing his left butt-cheek in the process. He doesn’t even have the strength to feel embarrassed.

Merlin doesn’t waste time before coating his hands with oil again and bringing them to Arthur’s leg. He starts with his feet, then moves to his calf, then thigh until he’s worked all the way to his bum.

Arthur nearly jack-knives from the table as Merlin’s thumb presses into the middle of his cheek.

“Sorry! Was it too much?”

Arthur presses his face into the pillow to hide his flush. “I... ugh... I just... didn’t expect... that.”

“Oh,” Merlin quips. “I can skip that part.”

Jesus, Arthur, stop being such a sissy. It’s just a massage. A professional massage.

“It’s fine. You just... surprised me.”

“Sorry about that,” he says genuinely and resumes the massage, albeit more tentative than before.

Now that the initial shock is over, Arthur begins to appreciate the attention Merlin’s paying to that particular part of his body. He never knew how tense he was in... well.... there.

He whines a little when Merlin presses his thumb into a tender spot.

“Shit. I would’ve thought that going to the gym four times a week would make up for sitting on my ass several hours every day,” he grumbles more to himself.

“I think you’re doing an excellent job at the gym,” Merlin replies with humor, then promptly freezes, Arthur following suit. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. That was... very inappropriate. I swear, I didn’t mean anything by it. Not that you don’t have a nice ass. I mean... oh shit,” he starts panicking, removing his hands from Arthur’s body. Funny enough, witnessing Merlin freak out makes Arthur strangely relaxed.

He responds with a huff. “Take it easy, Merlin. I appreciate the compliment. You can continue.”

“Are you... are you sure?” Merlin asks tentatively.

“I’m sure. You like my ass, so what? I’ve been working hard on it.”

Merlin laughs, a bit nervous, a bit relieved, and eventually listens, resuming the massage on the other leg, starting from his foot again.

Maybe the whole exchange should make everything weird but strangely enough, Arthur is even more relaxed than he was before. The realization that Merlin is only human, with no filter it seems, making it easier.

Merlin hesitates when he works his way up to Arthur’s bum again, but with no complaint in sight, he repeats what he did on the other leg.

When he’s done, he steps to the side of the table and lifts the sheet off of Arthur, holding it in front of himself like a screen. “Can you turn over, Arthur?”

Arthur gathers all his strength to prop on his forearms with the intention to do just that, but stills momentarily.

“Arthur?” Merlin questions when nothing happens.

“I... um....” Well, shit. How did I not notice I was sporting a semi?!

“What’s wrong?”

“I... might have a... situation,” he admits, face burning.

At first, Merlin is silent, then the realization dawns on him. “Oh. I see. That’s fine, Arthur. It happens more often than not,” he reassures but it doesn’t help much.

“But I... God, this is embarrassing,” he hides his face in his hands.

“I understand why you would think that, but I promise it’s alright. It doesn’t mean anything; it’s just a natural reaction.”

It takes some more prompting but eventually, Arthur flips onto his back and closes his eyes as Merlin drapes the sheet over him again, the outline of his half-hard dick painfully visible.

“I can fetch you a blanket if it makes you feel better?”

“If you don’t mind,” he squeezes out without opening his eyes, only doing so when Merlin hands him the blanket and he rushes to throw it over his lower half. “Thanks. Sorry about that.”

He dares a look at Merlin and finds him smiling in empathy. “Not at all. It’s no big deal, Arthur.” He reaches for a bottle of oil and puts his hands on Arthur’s arm. “Just lie back and relax.”

Arthur does his best to do just that while Merlin massages his arm and hand before switching to the other one.

By the time he’s finished with them, Arthur’s calmed down considerably and, thank fuck for that, the embarrassment was enough to have killed any interest his dick might have taken in the situation.

He expects Merlin to announce the massage has come to an end when he finishes wiping his arms with a hot towel, but to his surprise, Merlin slides a chair behind him, sitting himself down, hands coming to cradle Arthur’s head. Arthur lifts it automatically, assuming that’s what Merlin wants him to do.

“You just relax, Arthur. Don’t help me by holding your head up. I’ll manage.”

It’s not an easy thing to trust someone not to drop your head but Merlin is nothing but cautious as he maneuvers it around to get to the spot he’s aiming for and Arthur finds himself giving up control completely. Head massage doesn’t sound like anything special but to his bewilderment, it’s the most relaxing thing ever. At some point, he even starts dozing off. At least he thinks he does because he nearly jumps out of his skin when Merlin says his name.

“Arthur?”

“Yeah?” he snaps his eyes open, looking up at Merlin upside down, seeing the other man smiling fondly.

“Did you fall asleep?”

“N-no?” he stutters, cheeks growing pink.

“Of course,” Merlin says in the way that screams he doesn’t believe him but humors him anyway. “Well, I’m all done here. How are you feeling?”

“Weirdly disconnected from my body,” he says with a grunt, attempting to sit up. “Shit, I don’t know how I’ll get any work done for the rest of the day.”

“What time do you finish?”

“Officially? Around five. Actually? Seven. Sometimes eight.”

“God, that’s disgusting.”

“You have no idea.”

“Thankfully, I don’t,” he agrees. “I’ll let you get dressed. Meet me in the lobby when you’re ready, okay?”

“Okay.”

It’s with sloth speed that Arthur puts his clothes on. In the back of his mind, he’s aware of Merlin’s busy schedule and can only hope he’s not stalling.

He squints at the bright light of the lobby when he emerges from the massage room. When his eyes adjust, he spots Merlin walking towards him with a glass of water. “Here, have some water.”

“Thanks,” he accepts without objection, just because he’s barely standing. He doesn’t know what Merlin’s done to him but it feels like his body doesn’t even belong to him. He has no idea how he’s gonna drive back to work without driving himself into a street-lamp.

“How much do I owe you?” he asks when he’s chugged down the whole glass, reaching for his wallet.

“Oh. It’s already paid for. Freya used your credit card when she booked you in.”

Arthur blinks at him blankly. How dare Freya pay for something that Arthur hadn’t even agreed to yet?!

Yeah, as if she would ever take a no for an answer.

He sighs, pulling out a twenty pound bill regardless. “She would, wouldn’t she. That little shit,” he grumbles under his breath. “At least let me tip you,” he holds a hand with the bill to Merlin.

“Actually, she included the tip, too,” he says sheepishly, giving Arthur a crooked smile.

“Bloody hell,” he huffs indignantly, then takes a deep breath. “Whatever. Just take it.”

“But-”

“Merlin. Take. It. You’ve done a great job,” he insists, holding eye contact.

Merlin still hesitates at first but resigns eventually. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Okay. Thank you, Arthur,” he smiles appreciatively as he accepts the money. He bites his lip, seemingly in thought, then turns around and plucks one business card from the pile on the desk, grabs a pen and writes something down. “Here,” he turns to Arthur, holding the card to him. “If you ever feel like coming back for another massage.”

Arthur takes the card, noticing that Merlin wrote another number on in besides the one already printed. “Thanks but... I’m sure Freya has the number.”

“This is my personal number,” Merlin explains and Arthur’s brows shoot up in surprise. “I’m not always able to pick up the phone here but if you text me on my personal number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Oh. Okay. Thanks, that’s very... um... I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Merlin mumbles, fidgety. Arthur finds it both amusing and confusing.

“Well, I should get going. Thank you again.”

“Oh! Of course, don’t let me keep you,” he rushes to say. “See you next time?”

“Yeah.” As non-committal as he sounds, he finds he means it. Something’s telling him he’ll be back sooner or later. Probably sooner.

“Take care of yourself, Arthur,” Merlin calls as Arthur opens the door on his way out and his heart skips a beat at the genuine tone.

He turns around to give the man one last smile before the door shuts behind him.

“So? How was it?” Freya advances on him as soon as he comes back. He slumps into his chair, sitting upright when Freya places a box of takeout in front of him.

“Fine.” Freya is not impressed. “It was good, okay?” he adds, opening the box to reveal his all-time favorite pad thai and all but inhales the food.

“Told you,” she says smugly, ignoring Arthur’s glare. “Gonna go again?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, that’s convincing.”

“Shut it, Freya,” he shoots back. “I got his business card. I’ll give him a call when I feel like it.”

“I can do that for you.”

“Nope, thanks. I’m sure I can manage to make a phone-call myself, even without an intervention of my obnoxious assistant.”

Freya throws a balled-up napkin at him. “Ungrateful prat,” she retorts and stomps out of his office.

“I heard that!”

Arthur lasts exactly four days and two hours before giving in and taking Merlin up on his offer to text him on his personal number to book another appointment. He didn’t expect to snap so quickly but after waking up the next day after his massage, refreshed and chirpy, feeling as though he had a brand new body - who could blame him, really.

Hey, Merlin. It’s Arthur. I was wondering if you had a slot available this week?

There, simple and straight to the point. Freya said that Merlin is usually booked out weeks in advance but asking never hurt anybody.

His phone chimes with an incoming message about ten minutes later.

Hi, Arthur! Nice to hear from you again. :)

Sure thing. Did you have a specific day and time in mind?

Nope, he didn’t. He was willing to adjust his schedule just to squeeze in an hour.

Not really. Freya implied that you’re usually fully booked so I thought I’d leave that up to you.

She’s over-exaggerating ;) I can make time.

Oh, God, he’s one of those people. Emojis and shit.

Oh. Okay, then. Thursday work for you?

It does :) What time?

This is... unexpectedly easy. He should have never let Freya bullshit him. But that’s what she does. She’d do anything to get her way and make Arthur do whatever she wants. No Christmas bonus for her this year!

Is 6pm too late?

As a matter of fact, he never finishes before six. Hell, he never finishes before seven. But maybe his friends are right. Maybe he should make time for himself once in a while. It won’t kill him, will it?

Thought you didn’t finish work until ungodly hour :D

He’s already typing out a reply but Merlin beats him to it with another message.

And it’s not too late. I’ll write you down for 6, then ;)

Oh. That easy, huh?

Thank you, he sends first, then rushes to add an explanation. I can make an exception once in a while. He hesitates with the next part but decides to throw caution to the wind, just this time. It’s worth it.

He regrets it as soon as he hits send, but doesn’t get a chance to wallow in it for too long before Merlin’s reply comes.

Oh no, now there are expectations I need to live up to :O

Jk. Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself last time. See you Thursday ;)

Red to the tips of his ears, he types out a quick see you before pocketing his phone, busying himself with the remaining paperwork in hopes it will calm down his racing heart.

He’s not that lucky.

On Thursday, he wraps up his work just before 5:30, hoping it’s enough time to get through the traffic.

It is, as it turns out.Though he’s cutting it close, parking the car just two minutes before six.

“Sorry, I underestimated the traffic,” he rushes to apologize when he bursts through the door, finding Merlin lounging peacefully on the sofa, swiping through his phone.

As soon as Merlin lifts his eyes to meet Arthur’s, his whole face lights up with a wide smile. “Hey! No problem at all. You’re my last massage for today, so no rush.”

“Thanks but it’s already late. I don’t wanna keep you any more than needed.”

Merlin dismisses his worries with a wave of a hand. “Nonsense. It’s no trouble. Come on in,” he smiles encouragingly and Arthur dutifully follows him to the massage room. It looks exactly the same but Arthur feels much more at ease than last time, now that he’s familiar with it.

“Thank you again for finding time for me,” he says gratefully because it feels like he hasn’t said it enough.

It earns him an indulgent smile. “I was happy to do it. It’s no trouble, really,” Merlin repeats and Arthur takes the hint.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoes. “You know the drill by now, right? I’ll be back in a few.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Merlin nods his head in acknowledgement, leaving the room to give Arthur privacy.

Similarly to last time, Arthur hangs his suit and shirt and folds the rest of his clothes, laying face down on the table and covering himself with the sheet. As promised, Merlin knocks on the door a couple minutes later, entering when Arthur gives him a go-ahead.

“Any requests today?”

He suppresses the urge to crack an inappropriate joke. “Not really. Same as last time is good.”

“Alright,” says Merlin and he starts the massage exactly in the same way he did last time, humming appreciatively when he rubs at Arthur’s shoulders.

“You’re not nearly as tense as before. Both literally and figuratively,” he points out.

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees. “I felt really good when I woke up the next day. All loose and relaxed.” He clears his throat, cringing at his wording. “And I was just nervous because it was my first time, I guess. Now that I know the ropes, it’s easy to just...”

“Let go?” Merlin finishes for him and... is that smugness he hears?

“Y-yeah,” he replies, feeling silly all of sudden.

“I’m glad to hear that. Glad I could help.”

“Me too.”

They remain silent after that. While Merlin doesn’t do anything out of the ordinary - or rather, anything that would be different to last time - Arthur can sense a shift in the energy in the room. In Merlin. In himself. He might be imagining it but he would swear that Merlin’s hands... linger - which is kinda a stupid thing to say, this is a massage after all, touch is a crucial component here - but... yeah... that’s what it feels like.

Every touch of Merlin’s hands on his body feels amplified, Arthur nearly vibrating in response to... he has no idea what he’s responding to. He only knows it feels good.

It feels right.

When Merlin asks him to flip onto his back, he’s relieved to find that the humiliating experience from last time is not gonna be repeated - no awkward boners today, ladies and gentlemen!

He hisses through his teeth when Merlin presses into a tender spot of his arm.

Merlin’s immediately apologetic. “Sorry! I didn’t expect you to be so sensitive here.”

“ ‘s fine,” he mumbles drowsily. “I might have overdone it in the gym today.”

“When did you have time to go to the gym?”

“Before work. Around five.”

“God, that’s disgusting. Why would you do that?” Merlin sounds truly appalled which only amuses Arthur.

“I’m too tired by the time I finish work. At least this way, I get a bit of a boost in the morning.”

“I’m still not convinced.”

“Shut up, Merlin. Without the gym, I wouldn’t have the ass you like so much.”

He snaps his eyes open in panic and finds Merlin gaping at him in shock.

“I... I did not... ugh...”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say that, I swear! I’m just really tired, basically falling asleep. I just talk shit when I’m like that.”

Forget the boner. This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him.

Funnily enough, his stammering helps Merlin fight through his shock and now he’s more entertained than anything.

“No filter, huh? I can relate,” he brushes the whole thing off and resumes massaging over Arthur’s arm, softer this time and Arthur would moan appreciatively at the soothing effect the touch has on his sore muscles but given his previous faux pas, he doesn’t think it’s the right time for it.

Merlin works his way down to his hand, paying special attention to the spot at the base of his thumb that is always so stiff after spending hours and hours every day typing on his laptop.

A weird thing happens after that. Same as the last time, Merlin slides his fingers in between Arthur’s, squeezing and pulling until he hears a cracking sound of the joints. That is all well and good but instead of pulling away, he remains with their fingers interlaced. It almost feels... almost feels like they are holding hands.

Arthur opens his eyes again to give Merlin a questioning look but Merlin is staring at their joined hands instead, an expression on his face that Arthur can’t really decipher but if he were to guess, he would almost call it... longing.

Merlin must realize what he’s doing because his eyes widen as they lock onto Arthur’s, panicked and so blue.

“Sorry!” he blurts out, pulling away and ducking his head as he makes his way to the other side to repeat the process on the other hand.

Arthur feels the air around them grow thicker. He doesn’t know what happened exactly and doesn’t dare ask.

He can tell Merlin keeps himself in check as he finishes with his other side and it’s not long before he moves to the head massage.

After all of that, it’s really hard for Arthur to relax but he does his best as to not make things even more awkward.

He’s equally relieved and disappointed when Merlin’s hands disappear, signaling that their session has come to an end.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby when you’re ready, okay?” Merlin asks stiffly.

“Okay,” Arthur agrees, releasing a breath he didn’t know he’s been holding when Merlin shuts the door behind him.

Since he knows he doesn’t have to rush because he was the last client today, he takes his time putting the clothes on and mentally prepares himself for facing Merlin in a few moments.

It takes all of his courage to maintain eye contact when he leaves the room, coming to the desk where Merlin’s already waiting for him with a glass of water.

“Thanks.” He doesn’t finish the whole glass, his stomach too unsettled for that and pulls out his wallet.

“I know for sure Freya didn’t pay in advance since I booked the massage myself this time,” he comments in what he hopes is a light-hearted tone. It works because it draws a chuckle from Merlin.

“You’re not wrong,” he agrees, going quiet again but shaking himself off at Arthur’s expectant look. “Oh! Sorry, it’s seventy pounds.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow in surprise. While he wouldn’t know anything about the regular massage price, it doesn’t seem too much considering how popular Merlin is. According to Freya, anyway.

He plucks out two fifty dollar bills and hands them over. Merlin blinks at him in confusion. “Um... that’s a bit--”

“Just take it. You deserve it. You’re good and you went far and beyond to make time for me even at the late hour.”

“It was no tr--”

“Merlin, will you shut up and take the bloody money?” he nearly whines at the man’s stubbornness, relieved when Merlin eventually gives in.

“You’re so bossy,” he shakes his head almost fondly.

“Goes with the territory. I’m the CEO after all.”

“In that case, that was a lousy tip for a CEO.”

“I beg your pardon?!”

And just like that, the tension has disappeared and they are back to their easy banter.

“I’m just teasing,” Merlin reassures unnecessarily, a dopey smile still in place. “Let me know if you wanna do this again, yeah?” He sounds unsure, although why, Arthur has no idea.

“Actually, if you really don’t mind, could we make it a weekly thing?”

“Oh,” Merlin says with surprise. “Sure. Thursday again? Or do you want a different day?”

“Thursday is good. Six o’clock?”

“Yeah. Yeah, works for me.”

“Brilliant,” Arthur smiles back. “I’ll see you next week, then?”

“Looking forward to it.” The way Merlin’s face softens further shouldn’t make Arthur’s stomach do flip-flops but for some reason, it does.

Oh, no. Abort, abort!

“Yeah. See you,” he mumbles and all but runs to his car.

Arthur lets out a girly squeal when Freya slams a pile of papers onto his desk.

“Why haven’t you gone see Merlin again?” she asks accusingly and... wait, what?

“Excuse me?”

“I thought you liked the massage. That you felt better after. I thought you’d go back.”

Well, not that it’s any of her business but...

“I’ve been like four more times since,” he argues back, watching Freya’s furious expression turn confused.

“No, you haven’t. There’s no way you could have altered your schedule yourself without me noticing.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, annoyed that he, the fucking CEO, has to explain himself to his assistant. “Yes, I have. I’m going today, actually. I go every Thursday after work. Well, I finish early, so I can be there at six. Which, by the way, you could have done the first time around. I truly don’t understand why you’d rather mess with my appointments to get me a rushed massage on my break instead of simply booking one in the evening.”

If anything, Freya grows even more confused. “You’re lying.”

Arthur positively bristles at the insult. “I’m not!”

“You so are. Merlin doesn’t work evenings. And he doesn’t work weekends. His last bookings are for 4 o’clock. Hence why I had to book you for your break.”

He’s already preparing a come-back to defend himself when the words finally sink in. He snaps his mouth shut.

Then why... why did Merlin agree to Thursday evenings? That doesn’t make any sense.

“Are you sure you’ve got that right?” he asks instead because... because if it’s true, it puts many things into perspective.

Like the fact that Merlin literally beams every time Arthur shows up.

Or the fact that his touch seems to linger, seems to grow more and more intense with every visit. Like he’s enjoying touching Arthur.

At first, Arthur thought it was just his imagination, but upon checking the time when he got to his car only to find Merlin had extended the massage by at least ten or fifteen minutes, it was obvious that he wasn’t making it up.

Most importantly, it would explain why Merlin started texting Arthur randomly, usually on Fridays to ask how he was doing, if he felt alright and so on.

It would even explain why he would sometimes text on the weekend too.

It did not explain why Arthur indulged in the texting.

It did not explain why it was the highlight of his days.

“I’m sure,” Freya replies, confirming his growing suspicion. When he doesn’t react, she turns concerned. “Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

She hesitates. “You’re not lying.” A statement, not a question, but he still answers it.

“No.”

“Oh,” she breathes, out of words.

“Do you...” He clears his throat. “Do you know why Merlin would make an exception for me?”

The glint in her eyes suggests that she might have a good idea about that, but doesn’t say so. “I think you should ask Merlin that.”

Yeah. Yeah, he should.

He will.

“You seem very... serious today. What happened?”

“Why did you agree on 6pm Thursdays?” he asks directly before he loses the nerve.

“Huh?” Merlin blinks at him.

“Freya told me you don’t do evenings. Why would you let me impose on your time?” God, he feels so stupid.

“Oh,” says Merlin. “Well, first of all, you’re not imposing.”

“But-”

“Second, working for yourself has a lot of perks. Like that I can do with my time as I see fit.”

“So you decided to spend it on me.”

“More like spend it with you.”

Spend it with-- oh. Oh.

“What? Why?”

Unexpectedly, Merlin snorts. “You don’t know?”

No. No he doesn’t.

“No.”

“Oh, my, you’re a right dumbass.”

“Excuse you?!”

“Arthur,” Merlin says, apparently running out of patience. “I simply like you, okay? At first, I agreed because you seemed like you could use some relaxation. Quite a bit of it, really.”

Arthur bites his lip, hesitating with the next question. “And then?”

Merlin sighs, shoulders sagging almost in defeat. “And then I just liked seeing you.”

Arthur takes in a shaky breath, both startled and excited by the admission. “Why didn’t you just ask me out, then?”

Merlin laughs, but there’s very little humor in it. “That’s hardly professional, Arthur.”

“That’s what worried you?”

“Of course it did! It does! Jesus, Arthur, you have no idea,” he shakes his head, “no idea how much I have to hold myself back when I have my hands all over you.”

Arthur swallows audibly, noticing for the first time how dry his throat has gotten. Well, here goes nothing.

”What if... what if I don’t want you to hold back?”

Merlin stares at him with his mouth hanging open, his gaze roaming over Arthur’s face in search of something. Probably a confirmation.

“Arthur, that’s not--”

“It’s 6:02,” he blurts out.

“What?”

“It’s two minutes past six. You should have started with the massage by now.”

Initially, Merlin doesn’t respond, looking as though Arthur’s talking in a different language. When Arthur holds his eyes, hoping to prove his point, he resigns on any further arguments.

“Come on in then,” he instructs tiredly and Arthur follows him to the room. He’s shedding his jacket even before they get there. He hangs it and starts taking off his tie just as Merlin turns around to face him.

“Okay, I’ll let you--” He cuts himself off when Arthur pulls the tie over his head, throwing it on the chair and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“Don’t bother,” he says, too pleased with himself when Merlin stays rooted to the spot, openly staring.

“Uh...” Is all he manages when Arthur gets rid of the shirt, exposing his chest (which - it’s not like Merlin’s never seen it before anyway) and begins working his belt and trousers open. Soon, he’s pulling them down together with his briefs, stepping out of his shoes in the meantime.

As he straightens up, completely naked, he takes a few seconds to appreciate the way Merlin looks at him, his jaw practically hitting the floor. Lips twisting into a smug smile, he turns to the table to climb on it, settling on his stomach as he does every time, except now he doesn’t bother covering himself up with a sheet.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he calls with barely concealed amusement when Merlin doesn’t move an inch.

“Uh... yeah. Yeah, let me just...” he stutters, reaching for the sheet.

“Leave it.”

“W-what?”

“No point.”

“But--”

“Merlin,” Arthur says darkly, “leave it.”

Thank fuck, Merlin actually listens and abandons the sheet in favor of grabbing a bottle of oil, pouring some in his hands with trembling fingers.

“Arthur...” he tries one more time, hesitant.

“Merlin,” Arthur returns. “Shut up.”

He hears Merlin exhale shakily and then, the familiar sensation of oil-slicked hands takes over all of his senses. He sighs in relief when the touch causes his body to go completely lax as it always does.

Merlin’s hands are unusually tentative, like he’s still not sure he’s got Arthur’s permission to touch him - like this - after what he admitted to him. It’s for that reason that Arthur starts making deliberate noises of pleasure, humming softly, or outright groaning and moaning when Merlin arrives to a particularly sensitive spot.

Above him, Merlin begins making noises of his own, but he sounds more pained than anything. Out of curiosity, Arthur turns his head to the side to peer at Merlin, just to be able to see what expression is on his face right now.

He doesn’t get that far because all of his attention is stolen by the very visible, very prominent bulge pressing against the front of Merlin’s trousers.

“Shit,” he utters before he can stop himself, feeling his dick twitch helplessly where it’s almost squashed between his body and the table.

Immediately, Merlin freezes on the spot, his breath hitching.

“I... Arthur...”

Arthur lets out another moan at witnessing Merlin’s obvious desire for him and returns his head to the previous position.

“You can do my legs now,” he says suggestively, but it sounds more like an order. For a moment, nothing happens. Merlin doesn’t withdraw his hands but he doesn’t move either. Arthur is about to impatiently prompt him to action but in the end, Merlin goes willingly, moving around the table until he’s standing at Arthur’s feet.

He covers his left leg with oil and proceeds to massage it from the foot up, almost as if nothing unusual is happening.

It’s not until he makes his way past the knee, to the hamstrings and inner thigh, that Arthur feels him falter, the pressure letting off and in a desperate attempt to urge Merlin on, he spreads his legs further apart.

Behind him, Merlin makes a choked off sound, his grip on Arthur’s thigh tightening.

“A-Arthur,” he says like a prayer and Arthur feels himself grow harder the lower Merlin’s voice drops.

“Go on,” he orders and this time, Merlin recovers faster, sparing barely a few seconds before he starts rubbing his thigh in circular motion, slowly working his way up, up, all the way to his ass - his very exposed ass.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispers, barely audible, but Arthur hears him all the same. He knows what he’s asking and in lieu of an answer, he digs his knees into the table to push his hip up and back, groaning when the movement provides friction to his now fully erect cock.

“Do it,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please.”

Merlin makes an indescribable sound and then his slick fingers are dipping tentatively between his cheeks, brushing against his entrance.

Arthur feels his pulse quicken, heat spreading throughout his whole body at the single touch.

“Gods, Arthur, the sounds you make...” Merlin praises, rubbing at his opening in tiny circles.

“Merlin,” he returns, attempting to spread his legs further apart. Merlin all but growls at the display and then he’s bending over to pepper kisses over Arthur’s naked shoulders, even as his fingers press against him more insistently.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Arthur,” he mumbles into his skin and Arthur trembles at the soft-spoken words.

“Fuck me,” he moans, hitching his hips up. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Shit, Arthur, you can’t just.... can’t just say stuff like that.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just hurry up and get on with it,” he tries to sound irritated but it falls flat when a whine is torn out of his throat as Merlin enters him with one finger.

“Shit. Shit...”

“Payback,” Merlin laughs, kissing just behind his ear.

“Merlin, I swear to God...”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,” he retorts with fondness and starts pumping the finger in and out.

Satisfied when Merlin actually listens, Arthur is able to relax again, offering himself to Merlin’s skilled hands.

He is nothing but gentle as he works Arthur open, adding more oil before a second finger joins the first, then a third one.

Under him, Arthur’s rolling his hips against the table, seeking as much friction as he can because Merlin’s taking too bloody long, checking on him every two fucking minutes. Just as he’s about to call him out, the fingers brush against his prostate, successfully stealing all the words out of his mouth, together with his breath.

“Fuck,” he grips at the edge of the table, struggling to breathe.

Merlin chuckles at his reaction. “You like that?” he asks smugly, totally unhelpful and unnecessary and hits that spot again.

“Would l-like it better if you f-finally got your dick in m-me,” he trips over his tongue, panting.

“Impatient,” Merlin clicks his tongue but before Arthur can tell him where he can stick it (pun intended), Merlin’s fingers leave him.

His breath hitches at the sudden emptiness and in hopes of speeding up the process, he gathers his strength to hitch himself up until he’s on all fours. He expects Merlin to climb up behind him but instead, there’s a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to twist to the side.

“Not like that,” Merlin explains, nudging him until he’s turned over completely, facing him. “I want to see you.”

Arthur wants to crack a joke, call Merlin sappy and whatnot, but he can only blush.

“Oh.”

“Can you sit on the edge?” Merlin instructs, helping him to get into position. He manages just fine by himself, sitting on the side of the table with his legs hanging off. He watches, mesmerized, as Merlin rids himself of his T-shirt and trousers in under ten seconds, feeling accomplished at seeing him so impatient himself even though he chastised Arthur for it only minutes ago.

“Eager, are we?” he teases, hearing the blood rush in his ears. Merlin gives him a dark look, clearly disapproving of his tone, and takes the final step until he’s standing between his open thighs, grabbing him by the hips and pulling forward.

The movement is so sudden that it sends Arthur flat onto his back, hips hanging off the table. Merlin nudges him to wrap his legs around him and braces himself against the edge with his hands.

“You’re such a bloody tease,” he chides with a shake of his head.

“Shut up, Mer-- fuuuck,” he nearly chokes as Merlin’s cock breaches him without a warning, sliding in fully with one push. “Shit.”

“Okay?” Merlin checks with a quake in his voice, proving he’s not as collected as he makes himself to be.

“Y-yeah. Just move already.”

Merlin chuckles. “So bossy.” Then proceeds to do just that. He pulls back almost completely before pushing back in, again, and one more time until he’s settling into a rhythm.

It takes Arthur a couple more minutes to catch his breath but when he does, he focuses on meeting Merlin halfway, although the position barely allows it.

“M-Merlin.”

Merlin snaps his hips almost violently at hearing his name tumble from Arthur’s lips in that tone and Arthur moans loudly when he drives directly into his prostate.

“Fuck! Fuck, Merlin. R-right there.”

“God, Arthur. It‘s so good. You’re so good.”

Arthur keens at the praise, urging Merlin to go faster.

Instead, Merlin halts all the movement, earning a desperate whine from Arthur. He chuckles at the reaction and leans forward to slide his hands underneath him to pull him up until he’s sitting up, their chests close enough to touch.

“Arthur,” he whispers in the space between them before there’s none because suddenly, Merlin’s crashing their lips together, unexpected and so good. He swallows the surprised sound from Arthur’s lips, licking into his mouth.

Arthur moans in agreement, wrapping him in his arms and deepening the kiss.

Merlin grabs him by the hips again and starts a new rhythm, his thrust shorter but harder.

Arthur whimpers against his lips, squeezing Merlin between his thighs. He gives up any effort to help Merlin out and decides to kiss the living hell out of him while Merlin plows his ass.

It works just fine and it’s not long before Merlin’s thrusts grow erratic and uncoordinated.

“A-Arthur,” he chokes out between kisses. “I’m gonna...”

Instead of replying, Arthur takes his lips in another kiss and clenches around his cock, drawing a hiss from him.

“Arthur!”

“Yeah, come on,” he encourages and clenches his ass again.

Merlin manages two, three, four more thrusts before he stills, buried to the hilt and spills himself inside Arthur. He presses his face into the crook of Arthur’s neck, panting against the sweaty skin while his hips continue their subtle grinding motion.

Arthur presses a kiss to his temple, sliding his fingers through the dark locks, marveling at the silkiness.

Merlin lifts his head to peer at him from under his lashes. His pupils are blown wide, overtaking all the blue of his irises. There’s a lovely flush to his cheeks and the way his fringe sticks to his sweaty forehead is almost endearing.

Arthur’s never seen him like this and he wants to appreciate the view but doesn’t get much time because then, Merlin is untangling his legs from around him and slides to his knees in front of Arthur. He gives him a little smirk before opening his mouth wide and swallowing his cock.

“Nngh!” Arthur yelps with surprise, throwing his head back in unexpected pleasure.

“Shit, Merlin.”

Merlin hums around his cock and starts sucking him in earnest. It feels so good he can’t even feel embarrassed when he feels Merlin’s come leaking out of him and to his shock, he also feels Merlin’s fingers slide into him again, hitting his prostate with deadly precision. “Merlin!”

It barely takes another half a minute before Arthur’s screaming himself hoarse as his orgasm overtakes him and he comes in Merlin’s mouth. Still, Merlin’s mouth doesn’t leave him, working him through his release instead until he’s whimpering from over-sensitivity and pulling at his hair to pry him off.

Merlin releases his cock with an obscene sound that echoes in the small room, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stands up between Arthur’s open legs.

“Are you okay?” is the first thing he asks and Arthur can’t help but laugh.

“Are you for real?” Merlin just blinks at him. “We should have done that ages ago, instead of the massage.”

Merlin groans in annoyance. “That’s not the nature of my business, Arthur!”

His irritation only amuses Arthur further. “You could make an exception for me,” he teases, pulling Merlin closer and Merlin goes willingly, although the scowl is still on his face.

“That depends on how much you’ll tip me,” he shoots back.

“Oh, I’ll tip you all you want, Merlin.”

Merlin slaps the back of his head gently. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Hmm. But I think you like it,” he says smugly, pulling him into another kiss, letting out a moan when he tastes himself on his lips.

“You’re awfully confident for someone who just got fucked on a massage table.”

“You mean for someone who just talked his masseur into fucking him on a massage table.”

“I think manipulated is better-fitting.”

“Or seduced.”

Merlin scoffs. “You did not seduce me.”

“Oh, really?” he teases. “I’d say you gave it up pretty easy after seeing me in my birthday suit.”

“I did not!”

“You did, though.”

“Your mind is misleading you.”

“Whatever you say,” Arthur concludes dismissively, then gives Merlin a wicked grin. “Next time, you’re gonna lie down on this table and I’m gonna ride you.”

Unsursprisingly, Merlin all but chokes on thin air. “That... uh... sounds... agreeable.”

“I’ll say.”

“You’re so annoyingly confident.”

“Just because you make it so easy.”

“Arthur.”

“Merlin,” he huffs. “Shut up. And kiss me again.”

And for once, without a single protest, Merlin does just that.

OMFG, Merlin! You DIDN'T!

Huh?

Don't "huh" me! You know bloody well!

Apparently not.

You fucked my boss!

!!! JFC, I can't believe he told you! :O

I sent him your way so he got that stick out of his ass. Not for you to replace it with your dick!

He didn't. His limp did, jsyk.

He could have hurt his leg or something...

And he brought me coffee. He'd never brought me coffee before! I've never seen him in such a good mood!

Your welcome :-*

*You're

That's disgusting. I'm never getting a massage from you ever again!

Oh, well... it was worth it :-p

*Freya has left the chat*

#bottom!arthur #merthur #top!merlin #massage #bottom arthur fest

59 notes · View notes

straycat-writes · 5 years ago

Note

I've decided what I need in my life: Chuuya and spiderman kisses May I request it? :3c

Asjsjkd yes you may, this is adorable :3

Because You Love Me (Chuuya Nakahara)

Warning(s): None. Pure fluff with lots of dialogue

The sound of gravel being crunched under your shoes was unusually loud in the surrounding silence. The abandoned warehouse you were supposed to be at was located at the very outskirts of the city. There had been rumours of an illicit enemy group hiding out there for some days now. Naturally, something like that would be detrimental to the Mafia and its influence, so you were tasked with checking it out.

“Tch. This place is disgusting.” Chuuya grumbled as the two of you stepped inside.

He was right, it was disgusting, covered in dust and grime from floor to ceiling, all kinds of trash littered everywhere, and even overgrown with vines in some places. It was also mostly empty otherwise, as you found out when you turned on your flashlight.

You rolled your eyes, “I wasn’t the one who asked you to tag along. You brought this on yourself.”

“I couldn’t just let you prance around an abandoned warehouse at night alone now, could I?”

“What? I’m not pran – “

He chuckled and held up his hands in mock surrender, “I kid, I kid. I know you can handle yourself, but still, for my peace of mind.”

You waved him off, continuing to look around. You hadn’t even walked two steps further when you heard a squelching sound. Turning around, you saw Chuuya frozen in his spot, face screwed up in disgust and eyes scrunched close, “(Y/n), I stepped on something. I fucking stepped on something.”

You stifled a laugh, “I can see that.”

“Please tell me it’s not something too disgusting.” He pleaded.

“It’s a rat.”

“What!?”

You snorted with laughter as you turned back around, “Chill out, I’m kidding. It’s just a plant.”

Behind you, you heard him sigh in relief and then grumble in annoyance, before he wiped his shoe on the ground and caught up with you, “I hate this place.”

“Complaining about it isn’t going to make it any cleaner, you know. Besides, you deal with blood and dirt on a daily basis, aren’t you used to it by now?”

“Huh? Just because I deal with it everyday doesn’t mean I like rolling around in it, you know?”

Something about Chuuya being a drama queen almost made it to your lips, but you kept silent. You shone your flashlight around the corners, looking for any signs of habitation among the desolation, though it didn’t look like anyone had been here in months, if not years. You cringed, looking at the high ceiling that looked like it could come down any moment. You wanted to be thorough, but with the dilapidated state the warehouse was in, it was highly unlikely anyone could even stay there for too long.

Just then, your eyes caught something thin and shiny, like a wire, stretched across about one foot above the ground. You frowned and bent down to inspect it. It was indeed a sharp, thin wire, probably meant to trip intruders and alert the inhabitants. On second thought, it crossed your mind, this place might be full of such contraptions. “Huh. So there were people here, after all.”

“No shit, this is the perfect hiding pl – “

His sentence was cut off by a myriad of sounds from behind you, something breaking and crashing, followed by a short scream from Chuuya. You whirled around, startled, only to find Chuuya suspended five feet off the ground by a rope, upside down. One of his ankles was bound tight by the rope suspended from the ceiling, which on second thought was probably some kind of booby trap to deter intruders.

You looked at the sight in front of you for a few seconds in mute surprise, eyes wide and lips parted, before you finally burst out laughing.

He looked at you with the most ‘done’ look on his face, waiting for you to stop laughing before finally shouting out, “Hey!”

“I’m sorry – pfft – it’s just – “

By now you were bent over double with laughter, shaking too hard to even speak. You waved a hand in front of you, trying to tell him you’ll be with him in a minute.

“Damn it, it’s not funny, (y/n)!”

After a little while, you wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, still laughing lightly as you picked up his hat from the ground and dusted it off. “What are you talking about? This is peak comedy.”

He rolled his eyes, “Remind me again why I tolerate you?”

“Because you love me.” You said, face lit up with a smug, lazy grin,

“How unfortunate for me.” He deadpanned, “Come on, help me down.”

“Mm, I don’t think I will.” You said as you lightly caressed his cheek, his skin warm under your cold fingers, “I think I like you like this. You look more kissable than usual.”

“I wh – “

And so you did. You held his upside-down face with one hand and kissed him. And even with your eyes closed instinctively, you could see stars exploding. The shape of his lips against yours felt like it always did, like fine satin and some exquisite wine you could never hope to afford.

Time seemed to elude you, but when you finally let go, you were more breathless than you had hoped to be. But the look on Chuuya’s face made you think it was worth it. He looked dazed and confused, blinking slowly as if waking from a dream. You chuckled as he blinked in quick succession, finally seeming to regain his wits.

“What was – I’m definitely not complaining – but what was that?” He asked, still out of breath.

You laughed lightly, “You’re adorable.”

By now, you had already reached the conclusion that since no one had jumped out at the two of you until now, the warehouse was probably empty. There had been people here, but they had long since left. You smiled playfully at Chuuya before propping his hat, that you had picked up earlier, on his face and stepped back to go.

“No, don’t abandon me, (y/n)!” he sputtered, “How am I gonna get down?”

You gave him a deadpan look, before turning around to leave, “Your ability is gravity manipulation, Chuuya. We both know you don’t need my help.”

“Betrayal.”

You snorted at the mock hurt in his voice as you heard him say that behind you, and you can’t help the amused chuckle that escapes you as you leave the warehouse.

#chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #spiderman kisses #fluff #scenario #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #imagines #bsd

603 notes · View notes

geminimoonbeamx · 5 years ago

Text

Moon lit Serenades

A/N: Dedicated to the reader, may you find happiness. I am so nervous for TROS, I saw a rumor that Poe dies and lost it. That plus the fact that there is literally no Plus Sized ReaderxPoe community? I had to remedy that. This is porn.

Warnings: This is porn. Serious smut from pretty much start to finish. Please enjoy.

Summary: Poe seeks comfort after a particularly hard mission in the only way he knows how. A Poe x Plus Sized Reader story

I am a moth, who just wants to share your light.

I’m just an insect, trying to get out of the night.

I only stick with you, because there are no other’s.

You we’re all I need.

I’m in the middle of your picture.

Lying in the reeds- Radiohead

War had finally caught up with Poe Dameron.

Had finally taken it’s toll, and far more then it’s chunk of flesh. Battle wary and blaster shocked, it was hard to think of the resistance these days as just that- a resistance. No, this was more of a bloodbath.

War.

He’d never thought of it like that before, always held his head high, a defiant flame in his eyes. This was fuck the system- fuck the First Order. Fuck anyone who tried to tell him what to do. He was willed, motivated by the sheer rage that anyone would have to live their life in oppression. Under the thumb of Snoke or Phasma, dead and gone now- Hux and Ren hopefully to follow sooner rather than later.

And that fire to see them fall was still there...but it was dimmed.

Had been stomped on, choked out.

Watching people you love die for you, because of you on a daily basis...it wasnt something he’d wish upon anyone. Friends, family. Allies, brothers and sisters in arms. His fleet which had once flourished with dozens of pilot’s was down to a mere handful of lucky ones.

He was willing to breathe and bleed for the cause. It was in his blood- the sticky substance that matted his dark hair to his head as he climbed out of his X-wing. His parents had been the same.

Was he willing to keep watching others die for it though?

He couldn't stop form pondering the question as he and his unit arrive back to the makeshift base, in the middle of nowhere on a planet in the outer rim- the name of it he could barely pronounce. The shabby hut like quarters made the memory of D’quar and its green covered everything throb longingly in his gut.

That seemed so long ago, now.

No matter. No time for getting attached. They’d be on the move again within a fortnight, never staying any one place longer than a month at a time. Rey usually kept them one step ahead, connected to Ren through the force in a way that made Poe’s stomach churn, but that came in handy with them not getting caught.

Thinking about Kylo Ren always made him sour from the inside out. Muscles clenched in memory of the torture he’d endured at the hands of what used to be Leia’s son, but was now just a shell with his dead fathers nose and the mark of his dead uncles betrayal on his black soul.

Poe would kill him in an instant if he got the chance. He prays to fuck that one day he does.

Clenching his fingers into fists is painful right now- the small mission had gone awry and they’d had to punch their way out of it. Literally. He’s feeling the aftermath of it all over, aching and sore.

He doesn't have it in him to attend the debrief. Can't muster the will, not right now. Maybe after a hot shower, maybe after he gets some food in his stomach and allot’s himself a moment to wallow. He forces himself to stand straight, spine elongated in a way that has his bones and muscle screaming.

Poe tries not to limp, as he scurries away to lick his wounds. He fails.

“Poe, you need to see a medic!” Finn insists, somewhere behind him. Always worried, always caring. Poe has nightmares about the night that he eventually loses him, too.

“Don't worry, I will” Finn wonders how someone who looks like they’re going to keel over at any moment- can manage to sound so cheeky.

Rey, who stands beside Finn, bruised bleeding herself wonders if he realizes that Poe is on the verge of tears. The pilot rippling and vibrating so hard she could feel it, taste it on the air.

Neither of them say anything though. The just watch him disappear into the stormy, starless night.

----

Sleep isn't something that comes easy to you as of late.

Not only did you spend your days(and most hours of your nights, too) in the Med Bay, you had never been the kind of person that could handle big changes, sharp adjustments. This hop forts every couple of weeks trend was killing you.

Your mind couldn't relax, R.E.M. State was always just out of reach.

Especially when he was gone...which also seems to be a trend these days. The missions just kept getting longer and longer- the time that he was on base shorter and farther between.

But it was raining tonight- the soft rhythmic pitter patter of it on the roof of the hut reminding you of your home planet, you could almost pretend you were there; the smell of petrichor tricking your brain. Making it easier to curl up on the bed that was really more of a cot and cozy into the Resistance standard blanket.

For the first time in two weeks- you sleep. Hard. Like a rock. The exhaustion finally overtaking your body, and putting you out of commission. General Organa was right to send you back to your bunk, physically removing you from your post.

You feel kind of, extremely, guilty for the attitude you’d thrown at her -

“I’m fine, if I don't do my job, who’s going to?”-

aimed her way even though she didn't deserve it. She was right, of course. She tended to be most of the time. Why anyone ever doubted her, why you ever doubted her, you didn't know.

The sleep is dreamless, just the way you prefer it...you hadn't always, but nothing was better then the nightmares. Nothing is far from peace, but close to quiet. A middle ground that could be called purgatory, depending how you looked at it.

So when there's a knock at your door, the wooden one that gave you more privacy then you’d had in months, that wakes you from your much needed slumber, you can't help but feel the irritation surge through you. Your hypothetical feathers bristled as you huff and puff and pull yourself out of bed, yanking a pair of breezy sleep pants up your chubby legs and a robe over your shoulders- not wanting to answer whoever it was in the near nude.

When you pull open the door- well, it was the one person who wouldn't have minded if you had greeted him in your panties.

“Poe?” You question, because your eyes still haven't adjusted, your mind still three fourths asleep and one fourth confused.

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart” And oh? Sweetheart? In that gravelly voice, tired and worn and fragile...you're instantly aware of what kind of state he’s in.

When you pull him inside, flipping on the light orb, and are able to see him. Clearly now; all bloody and bruised, you inhale sharply. His eye is blackened on the same side of his face that seems to be saturated in crusted crimson.

“Stars, Poe” You whisper as you crowd him, urging him to sit on the cot that’s still warm from your body heat. Poe frowns, pretty lips pulled down as he takes it, and you in. Your hair rumpled, your robe falling off your shoulder as you gather medical supplies from what seems like all over your small “room”

The first thing you do is take out a small capsule full of neon blue liquid from a jar and hand it to him. He takes it gratefully, tossing it down the hatch before you can even offer him water. Painkillers aren't the easiest to come by since they’ve been on the move.

“I woke you up, didn't I?” He inquires, after he swallows.

“Obviously” You answer as you step back into his orbit, close enough that he can smell your skin. That his eyes can trace each of the freckles that dot across your nose, your cheeks. You put your finger under his chin and tilt his head up, and fuck, isn't that a pretty view?

“I’m sorry” He whispers, hissing between his teeth as you, gently but deftly, begin to clean his head.

“Mmm, it’s fine. I’m awake now, Kriff Poe, you look like warmed over shit. This gash in your hairline is going to need stitches” You’re focused, wiping and dabbing as you speak.

He didn't realize, until that moment, just how much he missed your voice.

“Your bedside manner is spectacular as ever” He grins as he says it, even though it hurts to do so. His busted lip is next on your itinerary.

“Well when you show up at my bedside and not the other way around, I’m pretty sure that changes up the rules”

“Didn't you miss me...at your bedside, that is?” He pushes on, he wants you soft and sweet for him but he knows from experience it takes a bit to get there. Especially since he’s been gone so long.

“Stop distracting me” You mutter. You're only half pretending to be completely focused on the task at hand, at this point you could probably stitch a wound with your eyes closed.

“M’sorry” He’s not. It’s selfish, but he really isn't. He’s not sorry for barging in on you and waking you up, or for sitting in your bed reeking of blood and days worth of dirt. How can he be, when this feels so good? Your soft little hands working at him, healing with every touch. There’s no hurt when he’s around you- only good.

The painkiller makes the edges fuzzy, makes the fact that your repeatedly pulling a needle through his skin seem mild. It’s not like it’s his first time getting sewn up, and he highly doubts it’ll be his last.

Poe can't stop staring at you, dark eyes hooded. Hungry in a way that he doesn't care to hide. Drinking you in, gulping. It’d been almost a month and he was dying to get his fill. Your round body, nothing but curves and dips that he was itching to touch, is mostly covered, but the robe is still hanging off your shoulder. Satin skin exposed, so pretty and pristine.

It’s almost out of his control when his hand skims up our arm, skin seeking out skin. His palm sears as it settles on your upper arm. The plush flesh so soft under his calloused hands that he’s almost worried that it would give if e pressed down too hard.

In the back of his mind he knows better, though. Recalls just how much you can take.

“Poe” You warn tightly, lashes fluttering as you shoot him a look. One that makes him chuckle, because you're not fooling him.

He’ll play, mostly because he wants to, but he knows you missed him as much as he missed you.

You wonder if he can feel the way that you're trembling, already shaking for him. It’s stupid, you feel stupid, and yet you cant stop it. You have healers hands, medic’s hands- and at least you can get them to stay still as you finish with his head, then his lip.

Going insane from the simplest touch, from the way that he rubs his thumb in circles over and over on your upper arm. You remember when that would have made you uncomfortable, big arms that you wanted covered at all times used to be a big no-no.

But with Poe it was different. He wasn't there to judge. He just wanted to feel.

You don't want to pull away, but you have to. Your brain is torn, but ultimately resorts back to it’s resting state: health driven. Medically inclined.

“You need to go take a shower, wash the rest of the blood out of your hair. The hot water will help to start to bring down the swelling” you instruct, and it would be how you talked to any patient. Except for the way you cradle the side of his face, your voice breathy as you touch is thick locks that are greasy. A bit tangled.

Poe nods, he knows your right. Knows he should have done that before he even came here…

“Can I come back?” It’s hopeful, he spits it quick- desperate.

It feels like someone yanked, hard, on a loose thread inside your chest.

“Always. You know that”

While he showers, forced to go a few huts over to the community bathrooms, you’re a flurry of anxious thoughts and movement. Tidying up the small space and yourself the best you can. You’d showered earlier in the evening, using the last of the last of the Obsidian Lily oil that you’d carried with you. You still smelled good, pretty.

Your hair was wild, but not untamable and you end up brushing it smooth. You hadn't shaved since before he had left and curse yourself for not doing so earlier. How were you supposed to know that he was coming back tonight? Growing up on your home planet, there was a moss based soap that everyone used that minimized body hair. But still…

You wished, like you had more than once, that you could be better for him.

You're trying to swallow that horrid ugly little thought back down when your door opens, Poe not bothering to knock this time. Barges in, and he seems a bit more like himself in that moment.

His hair has gone back to his natural curls, thick and bouncing, dripping and the navy, loose materialed sleep clothes hang on him. Dont cling to him with dirt and sweat...all and all, he looks so much better.

Or so you think. Until you see him in the right light, his top falling open and revealing his chest.

“Poe!” You exclaim and his thick brows furrow, he had been drying his hair with one of your spare towels.

“What?”

“Take off your shirt” You demand and one side of his lips pull up- a smirk that doesn't meet his eyes.

“You know if you ask me nicely, sweetheart, I’ll give you whatever you want” It’s a purr, a ploy. Many a person- male, female and Wookiee had fallen for that charm of his. Your own name thrown in that pot.

But he was hurt, had to be in pain, and that thought cut through the others that that coy tone had stirred up.

“I’m serious, that bruising looks deep- why didn't you show me this earlier? You could have internal bleeding! Something could be broken”

Poe would never let it be known, would deny it to the ends of the galaxy...but he loves the way you fret over him. It makes him feel warm.

“Okay- Okay!” He sighs as you start to reach for him demandingly, knowing that you'd pull it off yourself if he didn't. There's a handful of winces as he tugs the fabric up and over his shoulders. You’re silent the whole time, and then for a long moment after.

“Oh...baby”

It’s the first time you've called him that tonight. In weeks. The first time an affectionate name has slipped from your mouth.

You can't help it, can't help the overwhelming feeling of...horror. Of shock and worry. His tanned chest and abdomen are hard, dusted with ebony hair that matches that of which grows from his scalp...and covered in bruises.

Four huge patches of yellow, and black and purple and blue...he looks like a fucking water color painting. You’d seen him in some pretty bad states over the years, and this was up there with some of the worst. The worst? Well you didn't like to think about that particular bloody day.

You reach out, fingertips tracing the purple bloom on his left ribs.

“It’s not so bad” And that’s Poe in a nutshell. Always trying to convince not only the people around him, but himself, that things were going to be okay.

“That one’s a deep tissue bruise” You point out to him, fingers gently probing, trying to detect if anything is broken “It has to hurt like a bitch, it’s going to get worse before it feels better”

“Not so bad” He loves the way you're touching him, and his hand, that big paw, goes to our waist. Holding you. Urging you to keep going “Those painkillers are something else”

You snort through your nose. He’s something else- you tell him of that fact, often.

Poe can only be so patient, can only allow you to touch him, feather light, for so long. Eventually, his impulses win out. Just like the always do.

You’re almost done, checking his bones, when he grabs your hand, envelopes it in his large one. It’s still for a moment- the air sparkling with energy. His eyes are mahogany, dark wood. Deep forests as they stare down at you.

The want in them is raw, unbridled.

“I missed you, so fucking much. Every day. Have I told you that yet?” His words, mixed with the timbre- vehement. Honest. It makes you want to squirm.

“No- you haven't” You wish your voice at that moment wasn't so anxious, weak and almost a whisper. Something about Poe had always brought this out in you. He was so bright, beaming. Everyone around him flocked to him, in hopes of just being able to taste a fraction of his light.

Sometimes, you still couldn't believe that he let you fill your cup, that he sought you out, parted the crowd for you.

You had never been a weak woman; had never let your weight or your too loud opinions or your tendencies to be overly emotional make you feel small, or less then...but being with Poe-- the level of intimacy was suffocating.

You felt burned up. Icarus who flew too close to the sun, who willing allowed himself to be burned up just to feel its warmth for a moment...you could relate.

“I did” Poe continues “I missed the way you feel, the way you taste-”

You close your eyes at that, images of the last time you’d gotten a moment alone with him, of a head of dark curls between your legs, assaulting you. Smacking you right in the face.

“-You taste so good, Y/N. Should've bent you over when you came to say goodbye. You would've let me, huh? Let me get one more taste- you have no idea how bad I want to stick my tongue inside of you. All the time. No one else gets to taste, right?”

Poe is well on his way to being rock hard, already. It had taken all of him to not jerk off in the showers.

“No one, Poe. You know that” you’d meant to tell him to fuck off, that you didn't belong to him. That he couldn't just have you whenever he wanted you. That came out instead.

“I need you” He tells you, roughly “feel how bad I need you, Y/N, fuck” he still has your hand in his grasp, againts his chest. When he begins to slide it downward, you know where its destination will be.

That doesn't stop the thrill, the flip flop of our tummy that comes with Poe pressing your hand to his crotch, hard and hot. The thin pants the only layer between your palm and his erection.

“You’re the only one who gets me like this, I need you to make it better, Y/N”

The switch is flipped then. Hard.

You’re surging forward, and he's meeting you halfway, your mouths slotting together. Lips and tongue, so much tongue. He talks all about how you taste, but stars, the way he tastes is intoxicating. Want to suck the taste of him off his tongue, off his cock.

Its blurry and ferocious. Hands everywhere. Touching, grabbing. While you are gentle with him and his tattered body, he doesn't extend that same sentiment. He’s groping, fingertips bidding into flesh. Groaning into your mouth as he clutches your thick, dimpled thighs. Reaches around to squeeze our ample ass.

Best ass in the galaxy, he'd write fucking sonnets about it, if he was good at anything but flying.

Clothes are shed, way too fast you worn Poe who doesn't listen. Because he never does- and he ends up hissing in pain, and relenting, sitting on the cot and letting you take off his pants. Slowly. You make it up to him by standing over him, grabbing his hands and guiding them to strip you. Slow drags of fabric over supple skin.

You’re so fucking sexy, and he tells you so as he urges you into his lap, you stay on your shins to mind his middle. Poe worships with his words. His fingers and lips do their fair share of praying next.

“Fuck I missed these the most” your breasts are large, heavy globes. Puffy sweet nipples are pebbled and just begging to be sucked on. He licks them messy, wet before he does just that; sucks them into the hot cavern of his mouth.

“Oh, oh, ugh” Your hands are twined in his hair, dripping down onto his thighs already, when Poe feels the wetness drip on him, his fingers go searching, hand pressed in between your thighs. Fingers slipping through sopping, heated flesh. You grasp, a high sound as he presses up and circles your clit, firm and pointed.

It’s so good, pleasure shoots down your legs, all the way to the tips of your toes.

It’s not enough. For either of you.

“Poe, fuck. Please” He’s injured, and you know it hurts him to do, and you should scold him for it, but when he manhandles you, flips you easily onto your back to that he can climb on top and situates himself between your thighs-

It’s just as hot as it always is. You know you have to be dripping down onto the cot, can feel your slick covering your thighs, slipping down your crack.

Kiss, Kiss and Kiss and Kiss and Kiss and…

You get lost in it, caught up in the way his stubble burns. His fingers slide back inside you and he watches your face as he crooks them, pumps them fast. Finger fucks you until you’re sobbing, letting out animal sounds.

“Do you still have the implant” he pants, head swimming. He gets like this when you let him make you feel good- wants to go down on you, but wants to be inside you even more.

“No, I took it out in the last few weeks” You’re cheeky, even with his fingers burried inside you. He loves that about you, “Of course I do, Poe”

You’d be damned before you ever brought a child into this world.

Poe holds your thighs wide, staring between them, your pussy wet and clenching around nothing. You’re so vulnerable for him, it makes you dizzy. He lines himself up, clock head dipping into your slit, resting against your hole, when thrusts inside of you it’s in one fluid movement.

You mewl, so full it’s hard to breathe and Poe makes a punched out sound. Like he’d been shot by a blaster in the chest and his hips start undulating, needing to be deeper. It feels so right inside of you. Feels safe. He wants to tear into your softness, rip you open and nestle inside. Settle himself in your bones.

You let him take what he needs, how ever he needs it. On your back, on your hands and knees. You bounce on his cock when he gets to achy,letting him run his hands all over your tummy, sides, breasts.

He can have it all.

After, the two of you lay spent, cuddled tight to one and other in the small cot. Standard issue thrown over your naked bodies, the sound of the rain starting up again mixed with Poes breathing is a lullaby you hadn't known you needed.

This...thing between you might have started as a way for both of you to numb the pain. To seek support. But it was more now. You were so in love with him that it made your eyes sting if you thought about it for too long.

“You’ll always come back to me, right?” Its so, so timid that he almost doesn't catch it and you almost hope he’d miss it.

Poe does what he always does; tries to convince you both that it’s going to be okay.

“Always”

You let yourself believe him.

Well I wasn't expecting this to turn into pure porn, but here we are lmfao. I loved writing for Poe and there will definitely be more of him coming soon! If you are able- listening to All I Need by Radiohead and the Hot Like Fire cover by the XX really sets the tone for this. I actually dropped a line from hot like fire in this- who can point it out?lol

As usual, I'm going to ask that if you can please give me some feedback. I truly love interacting with my readers and would love to hear your thoughts and opinions.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x plus size reader #poe dameron smut #poe dameron x reader #star wars #oscar issac

793 notes · View notes

wonderofasunrise · 4 years ago

Text

About a Long Night

A/N: Naturally, I’ve been writing some ER fics on my own, and I managed to actually finish one yesterday. After a few tweaks here and there, I thought I’d post it here because...why not?

Inspired by @bwayfan25, whose brilliant ER fics on AO3 made me real hot for Susan/Kerry and prompted me to start writing fanfiction again. Among other things, it’s a great exercise and wonderful way to relax.

Hope you enjoy, and fingers crossed I can share some more writing stuff here in the future. Reviews/ideas are welcome!

Disclaimer: These characters are, sadly, not mine. But a girl can dream, can’t she?

Featuring an excerpt from the song “Lost” by Dermot Kennedy, who I’ve been listening to a lot lately.

-----

For fear of moments stolen I don’t wanna say goodnight But I’ll still see you in the morning Still know your heart and still know both your eyes

***

“How long have you been awake?”

Kerry starts to rub her eyes, unable to contain her mild annoyance upon realising that the person whom she shares her bed with has been watching her sleep. Their room is dark with only a faint ray of light barely piercing through the window, but even without her glasses on she can easily recognise the pair of big green eyes staring at her, along with the smile that accompanies them.

“Long enough,” Susan smirks.

She is lying on her side, her head propped up on one of her hands—her favourite position every time she gets a chance to watch Kerry in slumber. Susan makes it no secret to Kerry that she finds the sight of her lover sleeping comforting, to which Kerry, in her typical defensive way, first responded by accusing Susan of wanting to see her at the most vulnerable.

Over time, however, Kerry has gotten used to it, to the point that there is nothing she looks forward to more than seeing Susan’s bright eyes and smile first thing in the morning—when their schedules allow them to spend the morning together, that is.

“You’re on at seven in the morning, Dr Lewis. Don’t push your luck,” Kerry tries (and fails) to emulate her Chief of Emergency Medicine voice, which comes as no surprise seeing that she has one of her eyes closed and her body relaxed against the comfort of her queen-size bed. Susan confirms it by sticking her tongue out in response.

“I’m not Dr Lewis,” she says in a mocking tone. “And neither are you Dr Weaver. We’re not in the ER, we’re home, and we’re just...us. Is my irresistible charm not enough to remind you?”

“Susan,” Kerry groans, her annoyance growing ever so slightly by the second. “You and I both know we need all the rest we can take. I had a long day, which I’m sure you’ve heard about, and chances are you’ll have one yourself in a few hours. Come on.”

But Susan is undeterred, and instead she gently pulls Kerry into an embrace and lets her head rest against her pillow, moving closer to ensure that their heads meet. Kerry can now feel Susan breathing against her skin, Susan’s hand wrapped around her body with only the fabric of her pajama top between their skins. Kerry half-expects Susan to kiss her neck and cause her to blush in the process, but instead Susan just rests her head against Kerry’s shoulder while inhaling the familiar scent of the latter before letting out a sigh.

“Do you know why I like watching you sleep very much?” Susan murmurs, her tone suddenly serious. “And it’s not because I like to prey on you when you’re vulnerable, although you gotta admit that would be pretty hot.”

“Because you get off on getting on my nerves,” Kerry states matter-of-factly. Both of her eyes are now closed, as if it somehow would convince Susan that they really should be sleeping instead of talking, but Kerry knows better and mentally prepares herself for a witty response.

“I’d rather get off on your other things, thank you very much. But seriously,” Susan retorts, “do you have any idea how different you look when you sleep? How...peaceful and relaxed you are? I swear sometimes I see you smirk in your sleep, and we both know that’s not something anyone would expect to see from you in public.”

“I’m not sure I have any idea as to how I look in my sleep, and I don’t think I’d want to know,” Kerry deadpans.

“You’re—you’re just you,” Susan happily ignores the remark. “You’re not an ER doctor, you’re not the Chief of Emergency Medicine, you’re just human—which I’m sure you’re aware that some people find debatable.”

Kerry is about to challenge that, but at this point she is just too tired and there is no way she can shut Susan up anyway, so she might as well let her be. All the while, Kerry lets her hand rest on top of Susan’s, her fingernails giving it a gentle scratch.

“I get worried sometimes, you know. That you don’t loosen up enough, that you’re content with people hating you and talking shit about you behind your back, because you deserve better than that. I think the world can do with knowing that you do have a heart, and not just in front of patients,” Susan muses, feeling Kerry squeezing her hand tighter now with each word.

“But then I feel lucky too, knowing your gentle side is reserved to those who deserve it. And you trust me enough to be one of those people. Heck, I’m the only person who gets to see you in pajamas and how cute you are when you’re cranky before having a cup of coffee in the morning.”

No longer feeling the urge to sleep, Kerry’s eyes are now wide open, staring at Susan’s as the latter shows no sign of ceasing her chatter. In turn, Susan, satisfied that she now has Kerry’s full attention, brings Kerry’s hand close to her face and places a soft kiss on it.

“When I—when we had our first date,” Susan continues, her smile growing even more at the word, “I remember you were getting tipsy after only one glass of wine, and you laughed so hard at something I said. I don’t even think it was that funny, but you laughed anyway and I just sat there, amazed. I never saw you laugh like that before. Granted, you had alcohol in your system, but the fact that you didn’t even try to conceal it said it all.”

Kerry chuckles as she recalls their first (proper) date, in which she inadvertently revealed to Susan that she was a lightweight, and she was surprised that she did not make any effort to conceal that. She was drinking and doing silly things as a result, but not once did she feel embarrassed. If anything, she was relieved that she could let herself loose up in front of someone she trusted completely, and she was beyond grateful that that someone was Susan.

There were no concerns about the possibility of being recognised by someone, nor were there misgivings about going public with their relationship—which Kerry normally has, ever since she started coming to terms with her sexuality. There were just the two of them, and the realisation that their feelings were manifesting into something more.

“It’s moments like that, and when you’re asleep that always remind me how lucky I am to see the real you. Sometimes I feel like keeping myself awake—even after pulling a double—simply because I don’t want to miss these moments when you’re just yourself. Because I want to always remember...how fortunate I am to be the one seeing you like this.” Susan can barely contain herself now, tears flowing down her face freely. She has to let it all out now, having expressed how privileged she feels to be with Kerry, to be the only one who witnesses her affectionate and loving side on a daily basis. To be the object of the said affection.

“Susan—baby, you’re crying,” Kerry raises her hand to wipe the tears away while sporting a concerned look. Susan, as if trying to tell Kerry to stop being concerned for nothing, laughs between her tears instead.

“I’m happy,” Susan takes a deep breath. “I—I never thought I’d say this, least of all when we first met, but I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time, and it’s all because of you.”

In many ways, as Kerry has learned, Susan is a fairly straightforward individual who only says what she means and means what she says, and coming from her those words feel like music to Kerry’s ears.

Unable to respond, having been rendered speechless at Susan’s sincerity and the way she expresses her feelings so candidly, Kerry simply kisses her on the lips, which Susan happily (and still tearfully) reciprocates.

“Me too,” Kerry says in a low tone that almost sounds like a whisper. “I’m the happiest I’ve been in years. With you.”

For a few minutes the two women stay silent—save for the soft sounds of Kerry’s breathing and Susan’s occasional sobs—as they lie still in bed, engulfed by the warmth of each other’s embrace. Time must have stopped for both of them, as for a time it feels like the stillness and warmth will never fade. As strange as this might sound, this is how Kerry always feels whenever she is with Susan: that the world around them stops as if conspiring to let the two be without anything in the way. There is no work, no hospital, nothing except Susan in front of her with her arms around her smaller body, and she knows Susan feels that way too.

“You know what will make me even happier?” Kerry smirks, and there is no mistaking the hint of mischief in her voice. “If you’ll get some rest, because God knows we really need it. And you know you don’t need to worry about missing any moment—I’m off tomorrow morning, and I’ll be right here when you wake up. First thing you see.”

Susan chuckles, pulling Kerry tighter into her embrace. She feels silly for admitting that she is worried about missing her favourite moments with Kerry, but she figures she can indulge herself in silliness once in a while. She is, after all, a woman in love.

“I love you,” Susan mumbles, her lips caressing Kerry’s shoulder blade. She has said this numerous times, and each time she knows that she always means it, and that it never gets lost on Kerry.

“I love you too,” Kerry kisses the top of Susan’s head and smiles at the sensation of Susan’s hair tickling her face. Similarly, each time she says the words she always ensures her sincerity comes across, which Susan never doubts.

Soon enough, the two fall asleep with their arms wrapped around each other, and again it feels almost as if everything around them stopped. There are just the two of them, sleeping peacefully without any care to anything or anyone else, and they know it is what they deserve.

All worries fading slowly, serenity begins to envelop Susan with the knowledge that she will see and hold Kerry first thing in the morning, all in a way that only Susan is privileged to witness, and that is enough for her to take on the world.

#er #nbc er #fanfiction #fanfic #er fanfiction #susan lewis #kerry weaver #i ship these two so hard it hurts #they both deserve nothing but the best #they deserve fluff too #kerry weaver x susan lewis #kerry x susan #writing stuff #fic: about a long night

24 notes · View notes

radiorenjun · 5 years ago

Text

Lavender Antics

→ Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

→ Summary: Shooting in a drama with him was your absolute nightmare. Working with your enemy and pretending that you were love interests has been the most frustrating experience of your life. Though, after saying your farewells, the scent of lavender never leaves.

→ Warnings: Explicit Language. Antics. Mentions of insecurity. Alcohol, Making out. Suggestive?

→ Chapters: 4, 5, 6

As Jeongin continued to play with Jisung's switch, Jisung stared at the ceiling with his hands behind his head as he layed down on the bed next to his best friend. Jeongin noticed how disturbingly quiet Jisung had gotten since he called him out at the bus stop.

Jeongin tried his best to get a reaction out of Jisung without him being too obvious to see if he was just spacing out because of a horror scene he probably came across on YouTube or if something had really upset his friend to get him sighing exasperatedly every 13 seconds.

Jeongin gave out loud reactions as he played his game, chewing his snacks as loudly as possible and fidgeting around the king-sized bed next to the spaced out boy, but nothing exept an exasperated sigh was released from the squirrel-looking boy.

Jeongin gave out a dramatic exhausted sigh, putting down the switch on the table and sitting up on the bed with a snack on his lap. "Alright, hyung. What's wrong? This is literally killing me." Jeongin asked, with a perplexed expression.

"What? Seeing me all sad boy?" Jisung mumbled, not tearing his gaze away from the ceiling. "No, you're literally killing me in this game because of your loud ass earthshaking sighs." Jeongin stated simply, laying his chin against his palm cheekily.

Jisung's brows furrowed as he turned his head to look at his friend smiling innocently. He rolled his eyes and continued to stare at the ceiling, getting lost in his thoughts once again. "Alright, all jokes aside. What's actually wrong, hyung? You haven't been this quiet since Minho and Felix got eliminated in the survival show." Jeongin asked.

"Promise not to be a childish dick about what I'm bout to spill?" Jisung muttered, avoiding his friend's eyes. "Unless you did a really hilarious stunt that caused you to slip and fall, no promises." Jeongin joked, earning a small hit from his friend.

"I'm serious, dude!" Jisung exclaimed, sitting up on his bed. "Okay, okay! What's up?" Jeongin raised his hands up defensively with a shocked expression. "I.. I made y/n upset." Jisung spoke hesitantly.

Jeongin's brows furrowed as his lips formed into a small frown. "And your point is?" he asked, confused at what's the problem. "What do you mean 'my point is'?! I made her upset!" Jisung exclaimed, giving Jeongin a nudge.

"Come on, hyung. I know you're a dumbass but surely your ass isn't dumb enough to not realize that you make her upset basically on a daily basis." Jeongin shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which, it was at that exact moment.

"No, you prick. I made her cry!" Jisung exclaimed, falling back into his pillows and burying his face into the soft fabric. Now, this got Jeongin's full attention.

"What? How? Did you make her smell your feet or something?" he asked, earning an annoyed look from Jisung. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry. But what happened?" he exclaimed, taking a pillow as a shield as he saw Jisung ready to go out on him.

"Well," Jisung sat up again, pulling his hood on and pulling on the strings as he plays with them in between his fingers. "She was being rather quiet and I got bored, I tried to get a reaction out of her like always but she kept quiet. So I pestered her the whole day until she finally snapped."

"And when she snapped, I just kept on going and going but then she screamed at me in the middle of the streets and she was crying. Then she just stomped away to walk to the hotel herself." Jisung shrugged sadly, guilt filling his stomach as he recalled your teary eyes.

"Dude. That's fucked up. Didn't you know the poor girl's grandma passed away?" Jeongin tsked in disappointment, folding his arms and shaking his head. His actions reminded Jisung of Bang Chan in this sort of situation. Man, he misses that guy.

"What? Her fucking grandma died?!" Jisung exclaimed in shocked, guilt filling him up even more. "Dude, no one told me!" Jisung ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Didn't you hear Yeoreum telling us, more specifically you, to leave her along to grief this morning at the makeup room?" Jeongin scolded.

"I couldn't hear shit! I had airpods on!" Jisung groaned. "So that's why she was so damn sad the whole day! Fuck, I should've just left her alone before she snapped." Jisung whined, collapsing to his pillows once again. He felt like shit. He was the type to joke around but he didn't mean to make people cry when doing so.

"You fucked up bad, buddy." Jeongin patted his hyung's back, grabbing the switch as he leaned against the headboard to leave his friend wallow in the pit of guilt of his own actions. Jeongin's eyes darted from his switch to his friend who was dramatically sulking into his pillows.

"I fucking said, 'you're acting as if somebody fucking died'. I'm a jackass, fuck." Jisung's voice was muffled by the thick fabric but audible enough for his maknae to hear him. Jeongin let out a groan, "my fucking God."

He scratched his head, "if your dramatic ass really feel that guilty, you could just be a normal person, which I doubt you are, and you know. Apologize." Jeongin suggested in a tone that stated the obvious.

Jisung's head shot up in excitement, his eyes wide. "Right! Apologizing existed! Dude, you're a genius!" Jisung grabbed Jeongin's shoulders and shook him vigorously. Jeongin gave him a double chin disgusted frown, pushing his friend's hands off of him.

"It's called thinking. You should try it sometime." he replied shortly. "Wait, but how am I suppose to do that?" Jisung asked with a pout. "I don't know man. That's your problem. Seriously, I came here to hang out and use your switch as if it were my own. Not act like Channie-hyung and become a dad, ew gross." Jeongin shivered in disgust at the thought.

"Don't you have your own switch, though?" Jisung's brows furrowed in confusion. "Well yeah, but you have more games." Jeongin shrugged with a grin. "Bruh, if you want my games so much just borrow some." Jisung shoved Jeongin who gave a small laugh.

"Really? Okay, then. Adios, my dude." Jeongin grabbed Jisung's switch and quickly exited his room before his friend could chase after him. "I didn't mean you could take my switch! JEONGIN. HEY-" Jisung shouted before he heard the door click shut.

Jisung bit his lip as he stood in front of your hotel room door with a bag of your favourite drink in hand and some onigiri and mochis in the other bag. Without wasting another second, he knocked on your door and patiently waited for you to open the door.

His foot tapping against the carpet floor as he heard small footsteps from the other side of the door. The door clicked open, revealing you in your pajamas looking all sleepy. You looked at him with a blank unamused expression, gazing at him from his small smile to the sole of his sneakers tapping impatiently on the carpet floor.

You closed the door as if he was just a person walking by, but he stuck his foot in to hault the door from closing. "Y/N-" Jisung started before he let out a small noise as he felt you push harder against the door. "Fuck off." you mumbled in a hoarse exhausted voice.

"Y/N, hear me out." Jisung tried to reason as he pushed the door back with his foot as hard as he can as you both fought against the door. "No, you and your donkey personality can just fuck off!" you exclaimed, putting your back into closing that damn door.

"I brought you your favorite drink, mochis and onigiris! What more do you want in order for you to hear me out for just two seconds?" Jisung exclaimed, feeling you hault your movements at the mention of your favorite foods.

"You what?" your head poked out of the doorway as you eyed him suspiciously, realizing that he was carrying a bag of your favourite foods in his hands. "Why?" you asked with a raise of your brow.

Jisung opened his mouth to say something but closed his mouth when he realised that he doesn't know what to say now that he finally grew some balls to apologize after sulking for thirty minutes in his room. 'Fuck,' he thought, 'I didn't fully think this through.'

"Well?" you raised your brow, gesturing him to continue with his words. "I... I heard bout your grandma and I just wanna say I'm sorry for being an inconsiderate asshole and I want to say my deepest condolences to you. Please accept these foods as a token of my apology so we can go back to being friends again." Jisung blabbered, avoiding eye contact as he shyly spoke, his ears turning red involuntarily.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise as he stretched out his hand to give you the bags. "You're here for that? And you consider me as your friend!?" you exclaimed, dumbfounded at the boy's actions infront of you.

Jisung's brows furrowed as he looked up at you with an offended look, "of course I consider you as a friend! You don't consider me as one?" he pouted, his hands going down as his expression saddened.

"Well, with your fucking attitude towards me I thought you had some sort of grudge against me as if my ancestor killed yours or something." you shrugged. "The ancestors thing might be a possibility. But you're funny when you get riled up. I never hated you, y/n. I felt like shit when I saw you cr-" he whined.

"Don't even say that word, I was being sentimental and emotional." you cut him off and cringed the embarrassing memory of crying dramatically in public. "Okay, sheesh. What Im saying is, I'm sorry for going too far with my antics and I want you to have this." he handed you the bags with a small smile.

You bit your lip as you accepted the bags in your hand and gave him a smile. "You're alright, Jisung." you nodded. "Does that mean you forgive me?" Jisung grinned, stepping closer to you as he practically towered over you.

"Dude, I forgave you three seconds ago. Go to sleep its like 11 PM, we have to shoot scenes first thing in the morning tomorrow." you chuckled, putting down the bags on the floor and gently pushed him, eliciting a laugh from him.

"Alright. Alright. Good night," Jisung giggled as he walked towards his door. "Goodnight to you too, Han. Thanks for the food by the way." you smiled, leaning so you could see him standing infront of his doorway, giving him a small wave before getting inside and closing your door.

You picked up the bags and lay them on your nightstand, checking to see what that ridiculous boy had bought you. Something inside caught your eye as you reached a hand down the bag and pulled out the object in sight.

You bit your lip, smiling as you saw a bouquet of lavender wrapped together with a small silk, some small carnations adding some colour to the bouquet. That boy really is something.

Jisung leaned back to see you pick up the bag he brought you before closing your hotel door. He sighed to himself, biting back a smile as he thought bout your reaction to his small gift inside.

He noticed how you kept looking in awe at the lavenders nearby, longing to pick one of them so he went down to the nearest bouquet shop and bought the most eye-catching lavender bouquet they had.

He chuckled to himself, wishing he could see your reaction when you see his gift as he fidget his hands around his pockets to pull out his key card to his room. He soon frowned when he doesn't feel his card anywhere in his pockets.

He pulled out his wallet to check if his card was there. Unfortunately, it wasn't there. He locked himself out. 'Fuck my life.' he thought before jogging down the hall to Jeongin's room where he knocked nervously.

Jeongin opened the door with his bed hair looking like an untamed mane as he squinted sleepily at his friend. "Hey Jeongin-" Jisung greeted nervously before Jeongin shut the door to his face.

"Asshole!" Jisung exclaimed in a soft voice but loud enough for the younger boy to hear him from the other side of the door. Jisung clicked his tongue as he pulled out his phone and dialed the only person he knew who could help him.

"Manager-nim! My favorite hyung! How are you?" he laughed as he walked towards his manager's room nervously. "You're gonna be laughing your eyes out when you hear me out. So. I got a little problem..."

I was so motivated to write with all the comments that wanted me to make more of Lavender Antics like Bruh I didnt think this would be so popular💞💞😳😭

#lavender antics #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz jisung #skz #stray kids #stray kids imagine #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz ff #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic rec #stray kids fluff #han jisung imagines #han jisung

109 notes · View notes