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spaceorphan18 · 2 years

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5 Times Kurt Talks About Sex and 1 Time He Doesn't (Part Three)

A/N: So, this was inspired the other day by a Nonny who was asking about how Kurt interacts with others on the topic of sex and this little idea popped in my head.

It’s a little mini-series, and I’ll post one part a day, then I’ll get it up on Ao3 after it’s complete.

It’s set in a post-canon-ish world when they’re all living in New York. The whole thing takes place over the course of a day.

****

Conversation Three: Rachel

Kurt’s sitting in the café, slowly sipping a refreshing vanilla café latte with caramel drizzle. The afternoon is turning out to be bright and sunny and has been otherwise exquisite. There’s only one problem… Across the table sits Rachel and Jesse, snuggled closely together, looking lovingly into each other’s eyes and acting as if he isn’t even in the room.

The two of them brush noses together, trading little kisses that only they think are cute, while Kurt leans his head on his hand with a disgusted look on his face. The whole thing is made even more revolting by the fact that Jesse had finished off a giant bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos and his orange lips are leaving dusty marks all over Rachel’s face.

“You’re extra spicy today,” Rachel coos into his kiss.

“Oh, just extra spicy?” Jesse teases. “Do you like when I get a little hot for you?”

“Mmmm, I love it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Why is this his life? Why did they even bother to invite him to this lunch if they don’t even seem to care that he is there? He wishes Blaine were there with him. Then maybe he could show Rachel just how annoying PDA really can be. Why does Blaine have to work on the weekends?

Kurt takes another long sip of his coffee - there were truly only a few good things in the world.

Rachel and Jesse cup each other’s face - more interested in eating each other than the food on their plates.

With Finn, her youthful obsession had been understandable, and at least Kurt had been distracted enough with his own romance that he had been able to ignore most of it when he needed to.

And then there had been Brody… who even though lived with them for a while, at least had been tolerable. (And oh, god, Brody! Until that moment, he had forgotten there is another dick that he has seen up close. Completely unwillingly, and too often for his comfort, but at least he could text Elliott that his number is one higher… or not, maybe best leaving that conversation dead.)

The point, though, is that Rachel has always had a tendency to be blinded and single minded by her romances. Kurt had hoped once she and Jesse had gotten married that she would have grown out of her habit of being obscene in public.

That doesn’t seem to be the case.

“You know, Rachel, I thought you hated when your significant others ate spicy food,” Kurt shoots out. Thinking of Brody reminds him of something, and a smug grin climbs on his lips.

“What?” Rachel snaps her head towards him, her face contorting into a truly confused look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I seem to remember a time with chicken wings and habanero sauce and a misadventure with Brody…”

Her eyes grew wide as it dawned on her what he’s talking about. “Kurt!” His name is sharp on her tongue. “You swore you’d never say anything.”

Kurt had said enough to intrigue Jesse, however. “Rachel, darling, I thought you promised that there were no secrets between us. I’m sure whatever this story is would only do well to strengthen our bond together.”

Kurt lets out a snicker as he sips more of his latte. “Are you sure you aren’t burning to tell him Rachel?”

She gives him a glare. “It was nothing, Jesse. Just a stupid little thing that happened.”

Jesse looks over to Kurt, an eyebrow arched wanting to know more.

“Her college boyfriend went down on her after wolfing down a dozen or so very hot wings,” Kurt says bluntly. Rachel’s face blushes a deep red as Kurt continues. “How’d the story go - Rachel? It burned so bad that you couldn’t sit down during the subway ride home?”

Rachel looked at him, fuming. “Do you know how embarrassing it is riding the subway without underwear? Just knowing those pervy guys can just tell something is going on under there?”

“You’re the one who gave Brody dessert after his meal,” Kurt snickered.

“I had to have a milk bath after that,” Rachel screeched unexpectedly, pointing at herself indignantly. “And you were the traitor friend who wouldn't help me with the burn cream the doctor suggested.”

“Oh my god, Rachel,” Kurt’s voice grows agitated. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not going anywhere near your vagina!”

“A true friend would have done it!”

“Well, maybe you should have gotten Santana to rub some of her Yeast-I-Stat on you!”

“Brody and I had already broken up by the time she did that commercial! Or maybe I would have,” Rachel shoots back.

“Wait, what?”

“And I doubt that cream would have even worked! I’ve had yeast infections that have felt better than that!” Her voice carries enough that the two teens sitting a few tables down look at her funny.

“Oh, honey, that must have been such a painful experience,” Jesse says, cupping her cheek. “I, myself, had the misfortune in my youth of trying to masturbate after eating nachos with jalapenos. I thought I had washed my hands thoroughly, but even with the imported French, silken soap, it still burned. Regrettably I couldn’t touch myself for a week afterwards. And I had to lie to my mother - telling her that I had received a critical accident when attempting new choreography with Vocal Adrenaline.”

“Oh, my god…” Kurt mutters.

Jesse then turns to him. “And really, Kurt, Rachel’s vagina is the most beautiful flower whose honey I could suckle for hours if possible. I don’t blame her college boyfriend - or any man or woman - to be so desperate for a taste they’d jump in without proper preparation. If you are ever interested, Kurt, I’m sure Rachel would be willing to let you experiment on her so you, too, could have the nirvana-like experience I had when discovering Rachel for the first time.”

“Right, exactly,” Rachel punctuates, until she realizes what Jesse has said. “Oh, no, wait, Jesse…”

“Did you just offer your wife to me for sex?” Kurt isn’t sure he just comprehended what had happened.

Rachel waves it off. “Of course he didn’t…”

“Rachel, we shouldn’t cut ourselves off from experiences just because they scare us,” Jesse continues. Kurt’s eyes grow wide. What is even happening? “I, for one, am open for anything - especially if Kurt’s undoubted curiosity leads him to explore the vast, physical love we have for each other. I mean, why else would he bring up such a story? Though, he should be warned, I do critique technique and am not shy about it.”

“Oh,” Kurt says, shrugging at Rachel’s mortified face. “So, it was a proposition for a threesome. Noted.”

Rachel lets out a regretful groan.

“Well, that seems like it would hardly be fair,” Jesse continues. “Blaine is also always welcome to our bed.”

Kurt nods, going back to his latte. He should have had lunch with Elliott.

#s.o. writes things #five times #kurt hummel #rachel berry #jesse st. james #kurt hummel fic #omg i love writing bonkers jesse

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kakusu-shipping · 8 months

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Red House

A wayward children self insert fanfic, part 1

In which you get to meet our hero and our villain before the story's even began

This is a story that does not necessarily need to be told. But no story needs to be told. They want to be told, wish to be read, and yearn to be adored.

This is a story you've heard before, set in a place you've been.

A little boy, not yet calling himself Emile, and truthfully not yet a little boy, but not quiet a little girl either, runs as fast as his feet will carry him across broken blacktop on a cool autumn day.

He'd just gotten off the school bus, and had gone home just long enough to empty his backpack of books and homework and refill it with toys and snacks. Then he was back out the door and running before his older brothers could ask him where he was off to, or worse yet, follow him.

The trailer park they lived in overflowed with kids coming home from the nearby school, and his house in particular overflowed the most. Five kids and two full time working parents rattling around in a three bedroom home of plastic and kindling was suffocating at times, especially when you were the smallest.

So the boy, not yet a boy, ran from the after school fights and arguments before they started, quickly ducking between bramble bushes at the mouth of the woods circling his home, and slid down a muddy hill that'd yet to dry from the rain two weeks ago.

"MIKEY!" He called, twisting down a well troded path through the woods until he came upon a makeshift house of plywood and garbage left to rot and ruin the forest around them.

Another little boy, littler than the not yet a boy, with thick glasses and short cut black hair, sat within the makeshift home, doing homework on a metal garden table with a half broken glass top.

"Emile," The smaller boy did not say, but for now we shall assume he did, "You could have just gotten off on my stop if you were gonna run straight here anyway."

The littler boy who's name was not Mikey, but instead Micheal, lived in the same trailer park as Emile and his many brothers, just up the street infact, a single stop earlier than Emile.

Unlike the older he did not go home before making the trip into the woods, because even if he had the door would have been locked, with a note from his foster parents saying they would be out until late, and to play outside for the day.

"Yeah, I COULD have, but then we wouldn't have anything to eat." Emile proclaimed as he shoulded his backpack off and dumped it's contents onto the tiny garden table. Some things tumbled through the hole in the table's top or over the edges and spilled onto the floor.

Great Value brand chips in single serving bags and Hug juice barrels and a single Great Value Swiss Roll pack with two chocolate rolls inside, a feast for the kings of the woods.

Micheal immediately shifted through the menagerie of snack foods, landing on a bag of almost cheetos and a blue hug juice which he opened by stabbing through the thin foil with his pencil. "Doesn't your mom get mad when you take too many snacks?"

Emile shrugged as he picked up a red hug, stabing into the foil with his sharp canines before sitting in an old tire with a blanket thrown over it, "Yeah, but she'll never know it was me. My brothers always eat more than we're supposed to anyway."

Micheal nodded and returned to his homework, his legs dangling from the green painted metal garden chair they'd found along side the broken table, supposedly thrown out together. If one was broken, they both were in the eyes of the original owner, making them both worthless.

"What're you working on?" Emile shifted in his spot, grabbing one of the stuffed animals he's packed in his bag that had tumbled out among the snacks.

"Fractions," Micheal answered without looking up, using his spare hand to dig into his not-cheetos bag, "Did you bring your homework? I'll do it for you if you want."

Emile let out a loud sigh, "Noooo, I dumped my bag out to quickly and left it at home. You woulda been bored anyway, it's just multiplication."

Micheal and Emile were the same age, but not the same grade. Though Micheal was far behind in the height department, he was a brilliant mind. He'd skipped from 2nd to 4th grade at his last school, which actually put him ahead of the 5th graders when he moved this past year. Sense he moved in the middle of the year he was currently stuck in Emile's class during the school day, but was doing 5th grade level lessons as homework to prepare to take the Finals at a 5th grade level. His teachers tell him if he does well enough on the final at the end of the year he can go into middle school next year.

Many people looking in would think what a brilliant and talented child, how amazingly lucky he was to be born so smart, and they wouldn't even be half right.

Micheal was a genius yet, but not because of luck, or genetics, or some invisible disability he'd yet to be diagnosed with. Micheal was smart with purpose, with intent to blast through school. The less years he had to spend learning basic division and decimal placement the better, because as soon as he was done with school he could get a job, and as soon as he could get a job, he could buy his own house, and as soon as he could buy his own house he could have his own key, and never ever be locked out to "Go play outside :)" ever again.

He can't be forced to move if he owns the house, he can't be restricted dinner if he made the dinner, he won't have to sleep on the couch or even the floor some nights because there were guests over who needed a bed more. His house, his rules.

Yes, Micheal was smart, smart enough to know his life wasn't fair, and it would never be fair, and it was up to him to tilt the unbalanced scale in his favor, and up until this year he'd planned to do so all on his own.

"So I'm thinking red."

"Red?" Micheal looked up from his homework to Emile, his first friend sense Kindergarten, sense all the moving, sense being the new kid three times in one year.

Emile sat up and smiled as he turned a notebook he'd had stashed in his tire chair to face Micheal, a crude drawing of a house done fully in red crayon sat squarely in the middle. "Red." He smiled confidently, the dye from his hug juice had colored his upper lip almost as bright as the poorly drawn house.

Micheal placed his pencil down and took in the house. Fully red, with four windows in the front with a round door perfectly in the center. There was even a window in the triangle that made up the roof, implying an attic. The yard was green with a crude version of a brown dog and a purple cat standing on either side of two people holding hands in the center, one with black hair and thick glasses, and the other in a triangle dress with long yellow hair.

Micheal nodded

"I like red."

#Emile's Writing #Wayward Children #Self Insert #Self insert fanfiction #Micheal Bleak #Me? Writing Micheal Bleak backstory fanfic? Nooooooo #Maybe.#Youngest of far too many siblings 🤝 Foster Care kid who keeps getting bounced from house to house #'We should get our own house where we can make the rules'#Anyone else grow up making plans with your friends to live together in the future platonically?#That is ALL I did #This is my MOST self indulgent fic series yet #Because this is a book self insert #But some people HAVE read this book #BTW THIS IS CANON DIVERGENT #We'll get there when we get there but like #It's more than JUST Micheal Bleak backstory #Me in the woods surrounded by Tetanus literally every day #God I wanna go out and find my old fort kfdjgkdfg #No clue where it is the woods have changed #But I wanna go anyway...

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emerald-notes · 1 year

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The Other Side - Part 2

Fandom: BTS Pairing: Park Jimin x OC (Amelia) Genre: Fluff/Angst Word Count: 1.7k Words Warning: Drinking, foul language, mention of kiss, this chapter doesn’t deal with any major triggering issues. Note: (18+) Additional chapters contain heavy angst and sensitive topics. If you can’t handle problematic issues, I advise you to not read any further.

Summary: When Amelia and her bestie have an encounter with the duo (JiKook), they seem to develop a love and hate kinda relationship...

Part 1 - Part 2 - More to Come

Are we doing business? Or do you hate me? - Danger by BTS

“Do you want a drink?” I asked.

“I would rather have another ice cream.” Tara replied.

I rolled my eyes, “Do you even eat anything other than that?”

Tara was my best friend since grade two. We had our ups and downs, but were never separated permanently until Tara decided to live in the city to attend college. But whenever she came back to town we would hangout like we were kids again. This time, she came to visit the seasonal festival and I was determined to have the best night of my life.

I paid for the snacks and added to the stall keeper, “We’ll have ice cream and Cheetos too.”

“Two bottles of beer, please.” I heard someone beside me. We both looked at each other at once and I wished I didn’t have.

“Hey! Crybaby! How are you? Oh, hi there, Tara! Didn’t know you were in town too. So, you girls were having a little get together or something?”

Yes! It was no other than Jeon Jungkook. Just looking at him made me want to punch his face. I put on a fake smile over my gritted teeth and spoke rather mockingly, “How are you, big teeth?”

Jungkook chuckled and replied, “The bunny’s doing great. Thank you.”

“And so are the Barbies.” Tara snapped before pulling me away.

“Hey! Wait for me.” Jungkook called. We saw him taking his beers and paying hurriedly before sprinting towards our direction.

“Is he serious, right now?” Tara whispered to me in annoyance.

Jungkook whined, “C’mon! We met after a long time. And you didn’t even talk to me at Tae’s party. ‘Cause you were too busy drooling over Jimin.”

“Excuse me!” I asked, offended. Jungkook was really testing my patience.

“Who the hell is Jimin?” Tara asked, unaware.

“I’m Jimin.” Suddenly someone spoke beside us.

I looked at him in disbelief. My immediate thought was that he was perhaps stalking me. But then, I remembered that Jimin was a really good friend of Jungkook. So, it wasn’t unusual that he came to his friend’s town to attend a festival.

“Amelia!” He turned to me with a faint smirk on his face, “We meet again.”

“So, you’ve been talking about me with Jungkook?” I inquired Jimin as soon as we were left alone. Tara went to the bathroom and Jungkook was taking an important phone call.

“To be honest,” Jimin chuckled, “you’re the only thing I’ve been talking about these past few days.”

Jimin really knew how to flatter because I could tell that my face went red. But it wasn't time to give in to his seduction, especially when I was supposed to be angry at him.

"So, you guys are really having some fun talking behind my back, huh?" I retorted.

"You are indeed fun to talk about, I won't lie, but…"

I didn’t let him continue whatever he was going to say next. "Listen, I'm not interested in wasting time with you. I don't know why you'd approached me that night. I don't know what Jungkook has been telling you and whatever you're telling him in return. All I know and want you to be clear about is that I’m done encountering you. If you still don't let go, you'll have to deal with Taehyung."

Jimin laughed at my speech which only added fuel to my anger. "Well, one thing is true, then.”

“And what’s that?”

“You complain a lot to your brother, like a cry-baby."

Had it been Jungkook, he would have earned a slap across his face by now. I breathed out through my mouth to avoid doing something stupid. But someone spoke loudly beside me, "who the hell do you think you are, speaking like that to my best friend in front of me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry…" Jimin was yet again cut off.

This time, Tara angrily started to rant, "our night's already ruined. Thanks to your asshole friend. Now don't get me started on you. Don't even think you have any chance with my girl just because you're…"

"Tara," I immediately interrupted, "let's get going. It's no good fighting with them. We should know better since our previous arguments with the other asshole."

"Yeah, whatever!" Tara turned along with me.

"I'm staying in town for a few days." Jimin yelled behind us as we were walking away from him. "Don't hope to never see me again. 'Coz who knows! You might."

I grunted in frustration while Tara asked, "want me to go back and kick him in the balls?"

"Why do all the good looking guys have to be assholes?" Tara sighed one day.

I raised my eyebrows, "which assholes are you referring to?"

"Whom do you think?"

"Umm…" I thought for a while, "I know for once, Jimin is attractive and also, turned out to be an asshole like his friend. Who else do you mean?"

"I mean," Tara replied, "his friend that you just mentioned."

If Tara had said that she was pregnant, I would have been less surprised.

"What the hell, dude!" I couldn't mask my disgust, "How can you find Jungkook attractive? I knew your taste in men was trash but him?"

"Oh, thank you very much." Tara argued, "Mind you, I didn't say he was attractive. I only said 'good-looking'. And I believe I added that he was an asshole. So, he doesn’t really fall under the men of my taste. By the way, aren't you the one attracted to assholes? As far as I know, it wasn't me who made out with one of them."

I was flustered by her reply. "Hey, that was… a mistake. I was… I was drunk." I stuttered.

Tara started to laugh. I couldn't believe she was bullying me for kissing Jimin. Maybe, I shouldn't have confided in her everything. Especially the part where I said I actually enjoyed making out with him.

"You're mean!"

I stood up and walked out of my room to the living room only to find that Taehyung was having a blast with his friends. And the friends in question are none other than my life long enemy, Jungkook and my most recent crush, Jimin.

Turns out Jimin was a sneaky bitch. Somehow he managed to manipulate Taehyung into thinking that it was his friendship that Jimin was after all along and he had nothing to do with me. He also added that there was a girl in his city that he was seeing. Taehyung didn’t seem to have any problem with being friends with him since he didn’t pose an immediate threat of becoming someone closer to me. Now, my brother was having the time of his life chatting with the two people I couldn’t even bear to talk with.

Both me and Tara listened to all the bullshit for a while and then decided it was time to leave. “We’re going out!” I said to my brother, “Want me to get you something?”

“Nope!” His reply was short.

“Well, enjoy, I guess!” I muttered under my breath and headed out with Tara.

“Wait!” Jimin ran out of the house behind us.

Tara moved in between and asked, “What do you want?”

“I wanna talk with Amelia!” Jimin replied casually.

“Why?” Tara pressed further, “Isn’t it Tae whom you’re after?”

Jimin looked irritated, “Can you please give us some space for a moment?”

“What do you need a space for? I thought you had a girlfriend. Why? Aren’t you loyal?” Tara kept on going.

“Are you just going to enjoy this?” Jimin looked at me helplessly.

I simply shrugged my shoulders in reply. Jungkook came to his rescue. “Hey, Tara! Wanna know what the whole college is talking about?”

Tara’s face went red, “Jeon Jungkook, I swear I’m going to kill you if you did anything funny!” And she stormed away inside the house along with a smirking Jungkook.

“Hey…” Jimin started but I cut him in between.

“Is there anything important that you wanna say? If not, please go bother someone else.”

“You didn’t even let me start!” he pouted.

I frowned at his words, “Your pretense of being a cutie ain’t gonna help you now.”

Jimin turned serious and asked, “What’s up with you? I can’t seem to read you right. One minute you’re so into me, the next minute you won’t even look at me? Is Tae the matter?”

“Nope!” I answered truthfully, “It’s you! You’re the matter.”

“Will you at least tell me what I did wrong since the last time we met?” Jimin asked gently.

I thought for a while before saying, “Why do you even care? I’m only an inside joke between the two of you.”

Jimin started nodding his head as if he just realized something very basic, “So, Jungkook’s the matter, huh?”

“No!” I denied.

“Oh, dear!” Jimin laughed, “Do you realize how long it had been since you were in school? Seriously? Are you still holding a grudge over those silly fights you had with him? Are you still that petty?”

I huffed in annoyance, “Go on. Tell me more about what else he had told you about me.”

“Nothing but all the good times that he had with you.” Jimin said with a smile.

“Huh?”

“Amelia!” Jimin shook me by the shoulders, “Jungkook always talked about you and Tara as if you were his only friends in high school. Yeah, he mentioned the fights and all. But at the end of the day, he still considers you his friends. The time when I confessed to him about you, the only thing he said was that I was diving in for some adventure. And it wasn’t even said in a bad way. He really ships us with all his might.”

I kept blinking at him in disbelief. Surely, Jungkook wouldn’t talk all nice about us let alone calling us his friends. What is Jimin trying to do here?

At that time, Tara came out yelling at Jungkook behind her, “Grow up, rabbit faced!”

“After you, bitch!” A boiling red Jungkook yelled back at her.

Tara took my hand and pulled me away from the house. “Just ignore him. He’s a bit upset, you know!”

“What did you say for him to act like that?” I asked.

“Nothing much!” Tara shrugged, “Just reminded him how desperate he was.”

“Desperate for what?”

In reply, Tara just let out a laugh.

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My Masterlist

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the-violet-void · 1 year

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did I ever tell the story of how I started smoking weed on here? I don't think I did, so here we go!

for a little background: I grew up the most anti-drug and alchohol kid. I would berate my dad for having a glass of wine or a bottle of beer, when I was older I would write multiple paragraphs on Facebook about how it was disgusting and filthy and everyone who does it is worth less as a person, etc.

basically I SUCKED.

then one day I find out that my brother's been smoking weed. he got arrested on my birthday for it, btw, that's how I found out. at first I was upset, because it put a damper in my birthday celebrations, but I decided to take the opportunity to learn what it was really like from him and found that it wasn't as scary sounding as the D.A.R.E. fellas made it seem.

then I started seeing videos of people using medically to great effect, and learned that no one has ever died from its use. I figured I wasn't going to smoke it myself, but I wasn't going to judge anyone for it

then New Years 2019 happened.

I was at my mom's house with my dad, brother, and his girlfriend (at the time) (K from here on) and friend (T from here on). we were just sitting in the living room hanging out, just after midnight (I think), and my brother is convincing my dad to try weed

he was successful, so we headed down to the basement. on the way down my curiosity got the better of me and I spoke up. "I'll try some, just a little". of course everyone was really shocked and my response was a really laid back "fuck it, it's New Years" which even suprised me

so we make it to the back room of the basement where they smoked, my brother packs a bowl, and tries to teach us how to use a bong. we decided it would be easier if he handled all that stuff for us and we just worried about inhaling

my dad goes first, then I take a hit. just a small one. a few minutes later I started feeling the effects and I thought they were actually rather nice so my brother asked if I wanted a bigger hit. I said yes

this was a mistake.

while he was lighting the bowl, my brother got distracted talking to K and let it just kinda go for a while. I figured it was just how long a normal hit went for so I just kept inhaling. I realized I was in trouble when T's mouth went agape as he was wide-eyed staring dead at me. finally my brother pulls the bowl and I get multiple lung fulls of smoke all at once and immediately cough the contents of said lungs up

there was a moment of silence before we headed upstairs to watch a movie. they put on this comedy that I don't remember anything about besides the scene where some guys are getting stopped by cops and the guy in the back seat thinking he needed to eat all the drugs they had, only to find out that the cop was stopping them for some menial reason and just told them to have a nice day, and the shot with the boobs in it

at first I felt ok. I started noticing that I could feel like kind of an energy moving in a certain direction, and that was cool, but things quickly went south. I found myself anxious and panicked. I spent most of the movie rocking back and forth hugging a pillow. K let me know that eating snacks can help, so I stuffed my face full of stale cheetos for a while. through all of this I found myself almost convinced that I was hallucinating everything and I was actually on the ground in a puddle of my own bodily fluids

also I don't know if the weed had anything to do with this but when I went to use the restroom I saw myself in the mirror and silently cried for a while because I was so dysphoric. it hasn't happened before or since so maybe but Idk

long story short it was awful, and I decided I would never do it again

a little over a month passed and during that time I came to understand that I had most certainly overdosed. I figured I'd give it another go, so on my birthday (Feb. 7th) that year I asked my brother for a hit. I took a slightly bigger hit than my very first one and found it very enjoyable.

since then almost every time I visited I would take a hit, increasing the dose over time and getting used to it until I was taking pretty big hits like it was nothing.

I've been in love with weed ever since

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luvdsc · 4 years

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mark lee sucks at technology.

tap the heart if you have a big, fat, embarrassing crush on your best friend!

pairing :: lee mark x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + social influencer au word count :: 5,883 words warnings :: none playlist :: dumb stuff (lany) ⋆ feeling (coin) ⋆ so far so good (gabrielle aplin) ⋆ electric love (børns) ⋆ love by mistake (bad suns) author’s note :: i was debating if i should post it on his bday instead, but i decided to drop it earlier, so uh, happy (approx. one week early) bday to mister absolutely fully capable (except when it comes to tech stuff) !!!! thank you for blessing us with your god tier raps ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

In your required upper division business course aptly titled “Essential Marketing Strategies,” you had learned about a concept called personal brands. A personal brand is explained as the first impression a person wishes to perceive based on their own experiences, qualifications, and achievements. Your professor had told you and your classmates to pick three words to define your own brand. For instance, you chose to label yourself as charismatic, fun, and creative.

Your best friend’s brand would be awkward, endearing, and technologically challenged.

Okay, so that is definitely more than three words, but who’s counting? You might as well tack on “Y/N’s big fat crush” at this rate because everyone and their mother knows that you carry a torch—or more accurately, a blazing wildfire that can easily be spotted from Pluto—for your best friend.

Well, to be more precise, you should probably say everyone, except Mark, knows. And that’s not for lack of trying either. You completely dropped the art of delicate subtlety months ago already. Maybe you should add “hopelessly oblivious” instead.

The rolling end credits to the sixth Harry Potter film are playing on the screen in front of you, signaling the nearing end of your magical movie marathon. You’re seated on the worn down couch in Mark and Donghyuck’s shared apartment, watching the former make his drink with the fancy, gently used Keurig newly settled on the scratched countertop. Johnny dropped it off a few days ago because he had splurged on a better coffee machine (“It even makes Instagram worthy whipped frappuccinos!”) and didn’t want his old, but still perfectly functioning caffeine provider going to waste.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” Mark slaps the side of the machine, and it starts to emit a low whirring noise. “Oh, that’s good, right? That sound is good, you think?”

His question is immediately answered by the sad squirt of hot water speckled with coffee grinds falling into his mug for a few seconds before the machine shuts off.

“What the hell?” he mutters angrily, carding his hand through his hair in frustration, and you finally decide to take pity on your best friend. Getting up from the comfy spot you know you sadly won’t be able to recreate perfectly again later, you stride over to where your best friend stands and flip open the top of the Keurig.

“Hyuck didn’t take out his used coffee pod,” you say, pulling out the incriminating evidence of your best friend’s roommate and disposing it in the trash can next to the refrigerator. “Where’s the espresso one you’re gonna use? Why didn’t you put that in?”

His jaw slackens, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze and mumbling, “I thought I’d just open it later and pour it into my hot water.”

“Mark,” you start, placing your hands on his shoulders firmly and staring into his eyes with a serious look on your face. “Please know that I’m saying this in the most loving way possible, but you are an absolute idiot.”

You release your grip on his shoulders and grab the espresso pod dangling from his fingertips before slotting it into the Keurig. You remove the mug he placed underneath the spout and wash out the accidental coffee water before placing it back in its original position and pressing the start button on the machine. With a sigh, you lean against the side of the counter, glancing at your friend who looks like a child being scolded for stealing from the cookie jar.

“If you pour the pod into your mug, are you just going to chug all the loose coffee grinds, too?”

“... I didn’t think that far ahead.” His lips start to unintentionally form a tiny pout, and your eyes (and your heart, too) soften.

You’re very relieved that Donghyuck is off filming with your friend because he definitely would be making fun of your heart eyes that frequently make an appearance around a certain Mark Lee. Which you always deny. Because you certainly do not have a gigantic crush on your technologically inept best friend.

You glance over at him again and have to physically fight yourself to resist the urge to kiss his cute pout away. Okay, so maybe you harbor a very respectable, medium sized crush. But it's no big deal. It’s completely under control. Unless you’re counting the fact that your best friend is still unaware, and you’re running out of ideas to try and see if he likes you back before you actually shoot your shot. Then it’s very much not under control because you’re losing sleep over it and you don’t know what to do to be any more obvious without stating the, well, obvious.

“Well, now you know. If you forget, you can FaceTime me and I’ll give you instructions on how it works.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly before pausing. “Wait, you do know how to FaceTime, right?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, sulking even more before confessing in a quieter, defeated tone, “Hyuck showed me last month.”

Mark grabs his finished drink and follows behind you, settling back onto the couch next to you. The streaming service already has Deathly Hallows Part 1 in the queue and ready to go, and your best friend is ready to click play until he notices your attention being focused on the smaller screen in your hands. He wonders if you’re about to post another one of your popular cooking videos on that app that shares a name with the most iconic song of the 2000s (hint: the name of the song’s singer is made up of four letters and a dollar sign).

“Are you uploading one of your videos?” he implores before taking a sip of his drink with a satisfied smile. Somehow, it always tastes better when you make it, and he can’t figure out why for the life of him. When he went to Johnny’s place, his older friend uses the exact same pod and water ratio for his espresso, and yet, it’s never as good as yours.

“Nah, I’m ordering my grocery delivery before I forget. Do you want anything?” You select the option to load your usual grocery items into your cart before debating on whether or not you should splurge on buying several packages of those seasonal Pillsbury sugar cookies that only come in stock during certain holidays. It seems like such an insult to the entire premise of your Tiktok account based on baking and cooking, but you’re an absolute sucker for those soft pastries.

“Yeah, can you get me a Shin Ramyun ten pack? Hyuck ate the last one two days ago and didn’t tell me.”

“You sure you don’t want ten boxes again?” You decide to get those Pillsbury sugary delights, happily adding three boxes to your cart. Everybody has a weakness, and yours just so happens to be a premade one way ticket to diabetes. You’re here for a good, delicious time, not a long time.

“No! That was an accident!” He objects, flailing his hands around, before falling back against the couch cushions in defeat. “But Hyuck does all the online grocery shopping now.”

“Thank god. You guys finally have quality toilet paper again.”

The past month of bathroom occurrences was plagued with scratchy tissue that felt more like goddamn sandpaper from the horrible depths of hell. To be honest, you probably would have rather used actual sandpaper, given the choice. You even made sure not to drink too much water any time you came over, but today, you decided to splurge on a venti passion fruit iced tea with sweetener from that very popular franchise sporting a mermaid logo and fiscally cosmic name. To your pleasant surprise, your trip to the toilet this time was wonderfully padded with Charmin Ultra Soft, not that absolutely awful off brand one with the gross texture of a dried pinecone from inferno.

“Hey, that toilet paper was a good steal! It was a three for one deal,” Mark protests, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Wow, I wonder why it was priced so low.” You deadpan, and Mark blanches, recalling all those restroom incidents that were rather rough. Literally.

“Anyway, do you think my viewers wanna see me make chocolate crinkle cookies or mochi doughnuts?” You bring up the two recipes you managed to perfect and add your own spin to on your phone, eyes scanning the ingredient lists.

“Both. And tell me when you’re making them, so I can come over and eat them.” He gives you a wide grin, and you let out a snort at that. His smile only grows as he says happily, “I love your job.”

“You only love it because you can freeload off of me,” you jest, but nevertheless begin to start to add all the ingredients for both recipes to your shopping cart. You always film cooking videos on Tuesdays, edit on Wednesdays, keep Thursdays free for last minute touch ups and emergencies, and post one every week on Fridays with other various random videos uploaded whenever in between. With that in mind, you schedule your upcoming grocery delivery for Monday.

“Hey, you need me. I’m the best taste tester.” He puffs up his chest proudly before hastily tacking on a more genuine reason. “And because I’d starve without you. I can’t live off of instant ramen and frozen chicken nuggets forever. Gordon Ramsay already confirmed my shitty cooking skills. I need you to survive.”

“Oh my god, when I uploaded those pics of your scrambled eggs on Twitter, I lost like a hundred followers in less than a minute.” You confirm the delivery and place your phone on the coffee table, picking up the opened bag of Cheeto puffs before settling back in your seat. “My cooking credibility was completely shot. I had to explain to my fans that I didn’t make those.”

“Yeah, but now everyone calls me Eggy Boi online!” he whines, and you laugh. You have to admit, it’s quite a funny play on the whole “edgy boi” terminology. You wonder if Mark will find it amusing if he discovers his roommate is the culprit behind his new online persona (He probably won’t, and you reckon Donghyuck enjoys living in a safe space where he doesn’t have to sleep with one eye open, so you stay quiet about it. You’ll use it as leverage some other time).

“Okay, Eggy Boi, come by on Tuesday because I’ll be baking in the afternoon,” you say casually, grabbing the remote control from your best friend and pressing play.

You very narrowly avoid a green gummy bear to the face. It lands somewhere behind the couch, lost forever to the dust bunnies and other snacks that missed its target. You know for a fact that it’ll stay there until the boys decide to move to a new apartment. Mark grumbles at the miss, biting off the head of a red cherry flavored gummy bear perhaps a little harder than necessary.

“I hate you. But I’m still coming over next week because I want a doughnut.”

“No cookie?”

“... and a cookie. Maybe two.”

Wednesday comes faster than you expected, and you’re currently holed up in your apartment’s second bedroom—which you had transformed into a snazzy office space—completing the edits to your second video on mochi doughnuts. You already finished polishing the one about the cookies earlier, thank goodness. If you had to stare at your computer screen for another three hours, you would rather eat those pastries Mark tried to make two months ago, but had mistaken salt for sugar. Adding a cup of salt to any baked good is an extremely effective way to make anyone who tasted your best friend’s brownies experience a trip to the beach. Because they essentially just swallowed a mouthful of sand and ocean water. Because it’s salty as heck. Just like Mark was when you told him.

Speaking of your best friend, he’s currently puttering around in your kitchen doing god knows what. He knows better than to try another recipe and possibly blow up your number one moneymaker—your prized oven—in the process. Your heart nearly drops when your ears pick up the faint chopping sounds of a knife against your wooden cutting board. Is he going to try to temper chocolate again? He nearly burned through your entire stock of dark, milk, and white chocolate last time.

After much contemplation and deciding that you deserve a good procrastination break and a fully intact kitchen, you’re about to go out and see what he’s up to when Mark timidly appears in your doorway, clutching onto a white bowl of watermelon cubes with a fork tucked neatly in it. He shuffles in, dropping the snack on your desk before turning to walk out without a word, not wanting to disturb your work mode.

Your heart warms up at the sight, and you speak up, a small smile slipping into your face. “What’s this for?”

“Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” He pauses in the doorway and adds on sheepishly, “And I can't cook anything, so this is what you get.”

Your heart swells tenfold, and your smile widens even more as you spear a piece of fruit with the fork and quickly pop it into your mouth. “Thanks, Marky.”

His cheeks flush with a pretty shade of carmine, and he fails to suppress the little giddy smile that appears on his face at your nickname for him. He walks out of your office, reddened cheeks still rising up higher than ever. “Y-Yeah, of course. No problem.”

By the time you finish adding the final few touches to your edited video, the bowl of watermelon has been picked clean. You save your video and transfer both of your completed projects to your phone, making a mental note to schedule their uploads and add them to your account’s posting queue later. Shoving your phone in the pocket of your sweats after ensuring the successful transfer of your videos, you pick up the empty dish and walk out towards the kitchen, the silver fork clinking against the side of the bowl with every step.

As you wash the dish and utensil, Mark wanders over from his spot on the couch, leaning forward and casually placing his chin on your shoulder. Almost instantaneously, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you briefly fantasize about your best friend wrapping his arms around your waist and how domestic and sweet the two of you would look, like one of those cheesy couples the two of you always made fun of.

“What’s up?” you ask, making a conscious effort to hold your voice steady and not waver over the fact that Mark is basically draped over you. After you place the dish on the drying rack, you turn around to face your best friend, sorely miscalculating the distance as mere inches separate your face from his now.

“I—” Puberty decides to make an ugly appearance in the form of an ill timed voice crack, and he internally curses as he takes a step back, willing the incoming blush to go away. Letting out a small cough, he tries again, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I, um, Jisung sent me some kind of dance video. He said it’s a challenge? I kinda don’t know what to do with it? Like do I make a new dance, record myself, and send it back? Actually, isn't it easier to just do a dance battle face to face?”

“Can I see the video?” You already have a good idea on what the video will be, but you want to confirm it. Mark fumbles with his phone, pulling up the video in his text messages. He angles the phone towards you for you to see, and you grab his hand, bringing the device a little closer to you for a better look and clicking play.

“Oh, it’s a Tiktok challenge! He’s doing the Say So dance!” you exclaim, recognizing the song almost immediately as your eyes follow the fluid dance moves, completely enthralled. “So a challenge isn’t going up against someone, like a battle. It’s just some kind of trend or concept that you try to copy yourself. You’re supposed to learn the same dance and record yourself for this one. I can show you some other challenges and help you practice and record this one tomorrow if you wanna drop by after work!”

“O-Oh, okay, sounds good.” Mark stumbles over his words, attempting to focus on what you’re saying and the dance Jisung is doing, but all he can think about is the way your body is pressed against his side, hand comfortably wrapped around his. He freezes up as the tips of his ears grow redder and redder with every passing second, and his face sports a similar color. He silently prays for the telltale crimson to go away by the time the dance is over.

When the video ends, you once again realize the close proximity between you and your best friend. Your face burns at this revelation, and you awkwardly take a step back. Clearing your throat, you hastily release Mark’s hand (He inaudibly lets out the breath he’s been holding in this entire time, yet he also already misses the way your hand felt grasping his).

“Uh, anyway, I’m gonna make a latte. Do you want a drink, too?” You walk towards the other side of your kitchen with Mark trailing behind you. You take out a floral, peachy colored mug from your cupboards before pausing and looking at your best friend. “Wait, do you remember how to use a Keurig?”

“Yes!” He says, slightly exasperated as he picks out his own cup from your cabinet. He always uses the same one—a cerulean blue mug with squiggles all over it—and all of your friends and guests know not to use it because it’s unofficially officially Mark’s mug (And perhaps, you did indeed buy it from that overpriced kitschy tableware shop down the street two years ago with your best friend in mind).

“Really?” You select the latte option and press start after you had already positioned the mug beneath the spout and inserted a green tea matcha pod. He finally relents, shoulders sagging and a defeated expression on his face.

“... No.”

You chuckle, taking the mug from him and carefully putting it on the counter. You grab the espresso pod you know he likes from the drawer below and place it next to the cup. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you again.”

Mark tries. He really does. He tries very hard to concentrate on memorizing the simple process, but he keeps getting distracted. His eyes are focused on the correct button to push before they start to trail up to your fingertips. And then, they go from your hand to your arm, then up to the elegant curve of your neck, and finally, to the way your lashes frame your pretty eyes and how the tip of your tongue sticks out slightly as you concentrate until all he can focus on is you, you, you.

Suddenly, in what feels like a blink of an eye, you’re done and handing him his finished drink, complete with a perfectly whipped milk foam on top. You ask him if he knows how to make it now, and all he can do is lie and nod with a barely convincing smile.

After all, how can Mark tell his best friend that the reason he never remembers is because you’re the biggest distraction?

Mark should be here in five minutes, according to his most recent text message. And in the text message below that, your friend had sent you a challenge. More specifically, it’s the one she completed with Donghyuck a few weeks ago. When you said you wanted bold suggestions on how to figure out if your best friend feels the same way about you as you do about him, you didn’t want one this bold.

Yet, the video link to your friend’s “today I kissed my best friend” challenge along with a winky face from her is staring mockingly at you. While you aren’t one to back down from a challenge, the mere thought of kissing your best friend causes vast colonies of butterflies to erupt in your stomach and your ears to feel as if they have caught on fire. You’re already tongue tied with your head in the clouds, and he isn’t even here yet. How utterly fantastic.

However, your mother definitely did not raise a quitter, so you spring into action when you hear the faint jingling of a key being inserted into your apartment’s door (You had given Mark a copy of your key almost immediately after you had moved in). You move the pretty indoor fern given to you by Jaemin as a housewarming gift last year closer to the edge of your towering bookcase, leaning your phone against it. You quickly position the device to capture a good view of the couch area in your living room and press the record button, arranging a few of the leaves to hide as much of your phone as you possibly can without obstructing the lens.

You run full speed to your bedroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you’re safely inside and hear Mark finally unlocking the door successfully and shuffling in. When he calls out to you, you try to even out your breathing, walking out of your room with your tripod and laptop in hand.

“Hey,” you greet him in the most casual tone you can muster. You place the tripod down and sit before opening your laptop and setting it on the coffee table. “I thought we could watch a few challenges for fun before trying the Say So one. Have you watched Jisung’s videos before?”

“Um, well, no, not really,” he confesses sheepishly, taking a seat next to you on the couch, leg pressing against yours. He squints at the YouTube video you pulled up earlier before he had arrived, reading the title before clicking the space button to start it. “Savage Tiktok dance compilation part two?”

“Wait, hold up.” You pause the video and then turn to face him with an incredulous expression on your face. “You’ve never watched any of Jisung’s dance Tiktoks?”

“No… I don’t even have an account.” His cheeks are dusted with the lightest shade of pink as he quietly admits, “I watch all of yours though.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, face heating up as you stammer out, “O-Oh, well, I can help you make an account later to upload your video.”

“Sounds good.” There’s a few seconds of silence as you mull over his previous words before he speaks up again awkwardly, “Should I, uh, play the video?”

“Oh! Yes, right! Of course, hit play,” you laugh nervously, twisting and playing with the hair tie around your wrist. He starts the video again, and the two of you watch the compilation, slowly relaxing once more as you tap your fingers to the rhythm of the song and he bobs his head to the beat.

“Do I have to change outfits like that?” he questions a few minutes later, eyes growing round as he sees the girl on the screen switch between four different outfits throughout the dance. His closet basically consists of the same five black shirts that he stole from Jaehyun. Even if he did do an outfit swap, there would literally be no difference at all.

“You don’t have to,” you assure him, clicking the enter key to play the next video that’s recommended: another Tiktok dance challenge compilation. “All you have to do is copy the dance.”

Mark nods, taking a glance at the laptop screen before his hand shoots out and he pauses the video, leaning forward to take a closer look at the little recommended video title banner at the top. “Wait! What’s that one?”

He clicks on it, the new video now loading up. The two of you wait patiently for it to begin, waiting for the spinning disc to stop. But it doesn’t. In fact, the whole chrome page goes blank and then, the little pixelated Google Chrome dinosaur pops up on your monitor, announcing that you have no internet connection. Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to reload the page before trying to re-establish your laptop connection to your wifi. Unfortunately, you cannot find your appropriately named “drop it like it’s hotspot” wifi anywhere to connect to.

And that’s when it hits you. Your landlord had sent out a notice to the entire apartment complex last week about the electricity being powered down today from 4 to 6 p.m. for a maintenance check, and a quick glance at the digital clock on your laptop shows that it’s a little past four.

You groan, closing your laptop and flopping back against the couch cushions dramatically. Mark cocks his head, slightly confused, before he pokes you in the arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I completely forgot about the scheduled electricity shutdown for the entire building. We won’t have any wifi for the next two hours.” You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in the slightest, and Mark doesn’t think it’s fair that you get to be this cute and have this much of an effect on his racing heart rate.

“That’s okay, we can… play some board games?” he suggests offhandedly, pushing away the embarrassing thought and nudging your leg with his, and you smile before a sudden idea occurs to you.

“Or we can still do some Tiktok challenges! What was the challenge you clicked on?” You quickly sit upright, turning to face your best friend, eyes sparkling in excitement. “I memorized a few of the dance ones already! Was it Renegade? I can teach you that one. Jisung showed me how to do it.”

“Um,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. His eyes dart everywhere, except you, as he lets out a feigned cough. “It wasn’t a dance one. It was about, uh, going up to your boyfriend… and um, hugging him... when he’s playing video games.”

“Oh.” You answer lamely, not knowing what to say. You unsuccessfully try to push away the image of you attempting that challenge with your best friend. “Those are really cute.”

“Really?” He says doubtfully, wrinkling his eyebrows and fiddling with the frayed sleeve of his sweater. “Wouldn’t the dude get mad?”

You don’t know what suddenly possessed you to do this (you’ll have to ask Renjun and his paranormal loving ass later), but you thank whatever demon did for that split second because you find yourself gently grabbing Mark’s arm and slipping your head underneath it. You swing one leg over his lap and settle down until you’re securely sitting in his lap, bent legs on either side of his hips, hands curled around the soft fabric of his sweater on both sides and resting on top of your thighs. His arms instinctively go around your waist, wrapping around you securely.

You tilt your head to the side slightly, studying the flustered boy in front of you with a teasing, albeit a little anxious, smile on your lips. “Are you feeling mad?”

Splotches of red litter his cheeks and decorate the tips of his ears, but your best friend furiously shakes his head at your question, bashfully ducking his head afterwards and muttering a soft “No.”

You swallow hard, heart pounding erratically in your chest as you timidly ask, “Would you be mad if I do this?”

Mark looks up at that, confusion written all over his face. His arms start to loosen around your figure, hands now resting on your waist. “If you do what?”

You take a deep breath. “This.”

You lean in and gently press your lips against his. Mark freezes in shock, and you quickly retreat soon after, gnawing at the inside of your cheek as you wait anxiously for his reaction. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and be buried six feet under.

A tiny noise of surprise belatedly escapes from him and crimson spreads across his cheeks like wildfire. His doe eyes are wide and sparkling, staring at you in bewilderment. Your best friend lets out a small laugh of disbelief before a full blown smile breaks out across his face. He gazes at you adoringly, breathing out softly, “I’m not mad at that.”

You perk up at that, draping your arms around his neck as you lean forward, beaming. “Really? You’re not?”

“Definitely not.”

This time, Mark meets you halfway, his lips slotting against yours perfectly and making you feel tingles up and down your spine. Your eyes are closed, and you are so hyper aware of the way his hands grip your hips, how he tugs you closer, and how his lips chase after yours. The number of butterflies from earlier multiply in your stomach, and you have ascended past cloud nine by now.

When the two of you break apart, your eyes flutter open, and you nudge your nose against his affectionately. The brightest grin blooms on his face once again, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his little giggles and hiding the awfully vibrant cerise that rapidly blossoms on his face.

“Is this a good time to tell you congrats for completing your first challenge?” you say, resting your cheek against the crown of his head. You pull away when he lifts his head up, surprised.

“I wasn’t playing video games though,” he says slowly, processing your words and thinking back to the challenge that started this all.

“It was a different challenge. It’s the one that Hyuck did a few weeks ago,” you confess, and realization dawns on him, his face lighting up for a split second before a look of horror takes over.

“Oh, no. Is that why you had your phone recording on the bookshelf?” Mark asks, dread beginning to cloud his mind.

“Yes…” you say slowly, a little perplexed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Oh my god, I ruined your video,” he moans, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “I saw your phone when I walked in and thought you were filming earlier and forgot to turn it off, so I turned it off for you.”

When the words finally register in your mind, you can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of your throat, and he raises his head up to look at you with wide doe eyes at the pretty sound. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

You can’t stop laughing at the situation, and he looks at you worriedly, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly. You force yourself to calm down, a soft chuckle leaving your lips before you beam at him, leaning in and placing the softest kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not mad. That video wasn’t important anyway.”

“But still,” he whines before letting out a groan and slapping his hand against his forehead when the realization sinks in even further. “I’m such an idiot.”

“But you’re my idiot now, right?” you say teasingly, albeit a little shyly as well, as you reach over to tug his hand away from his face and lace your fingers with his.

“I mean, I kinda thought I was always your idiot,” Mark laughs softly and a little embarrassedly, eyes averted and cheeks turning pinker than ever. The largest grin spreads across your face at that, and you turn away slightly to hide it. You didn’t think your best friend can possibly be any more endearing, but he manages to prove you wrong every time.

“Well, then now you can add ‘Y/N’s boyfriend’ to your resume,” you say, and he fails to suppress the pleased smile appearing on his face at your remark, his rosy cheeks rising even taller than skyscrapers.

“So, uh, what sort of job description does that have?” He gazes at your intertwined hands in wonder, still completely giddy at the reality of you being his best friend and something more.

“Sharing hoodies, giving me attention, kissing, holding my hand, going on dates, you know, the basics,” you answer, squeezing his hand tenderly, and his doe eyes instantly light up. Mark feels a little bolder than before, and it shows when he grins widely and says:

“Can we do number three again?”

“Yes, we can, Eggy Boi.”

He wrinkles his nose at the name, disgruntled and unimpressed, as he crosses his arms over his chest, sulking. You let out a laugh before leaning in and crashing your lips against his. He immediately relents at that, enthusiastically responding and hugging you closer to him, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss as you feel his own smile appear as well.

At that moment, you decide that you want to change Mark’s personal brand. Because his should be “absolutely wonderful, positively amazing, a cute kisser, your boyfriend, and your bestest friend.” And yes, that is most definitely more than the allotted three words, but again, who’s really counting?

Certainly not you when you’re too preoccupied with kissing your best friend. Correction: best friend and new boyfriend.

One new notification: donutkillmyvibe uploaded a new video!

moominjun commented:

so you’re saying the reason why we didn’t get the highly anticipated best friend challenge video is because @ marklyrawr turned the camera off?

donutkillmyvibe replied: yes 😔 I’m sorry to disappoint everyone 🤧

nanaislove replied: omg no bby it’s ok 🥺🥺💞💓💓💝💗 you didn’t have to make an apology video for that 🥺💗💓💘💖

goofys.chuckle replied: yeah it’s mark’s fault. he’s the disappointment here 🥴

morklyrawr replied: hahahahaha stfu hyuck

tytrack commented:

mark is going through puberty. I apologize

dobunny replied: @.@

goofys.chuckle commented:

are we getting whip(ped)lash pt 2 by eggy boi?

morklyrawr replied: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO STARTED THAT NAME?????

goofys.chuckle replied: uh gotta blast 🚀

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle does this mean you’re staying over again?

goofys.chuckle replied: @ showmethemonet yes if you want your super cute, mega talented, very handsome boyfriend to still be alive 🥺

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle oh my god I didn’t know I was dating bts jin???

moominjun replied: LMFAOOOOO

goofys.chuckle replied: heart 💔 been broke 📉 so many times ⏰ i don’t know 🤔 what to believe 💯 mama 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 said 🗣 it’s my fault 😢 it’s my fault 🤦🏻‍♂️i wear my heart ❤️ on my sleeve 💪 i think it’s best 👍🏻 I put my heart ❤️ on ice 🧊

jenojam commented:

why am I not surprised……

itsmebetch replied: just mark thingz 🍉

suhprisemf commented:

mark your head looks flat af

jungjaeprince replied: 😂😂😂

10vely replied: @ jungjaeprince be quiet don’t cry

letswonwon commented:

whoop whoop

junguwu commented:

OMG CONGRATS ON YOUR RELATIONSHIP SWEETIE 😍😍

takoyaki_prince commented:

MARK!!!!! you look handsome !! 😘

jisungpwark commented:

rip to @ donutkillmyvibe ’s future videos that mark will ruin. press f in the chat to pay respects 🙏🏻

bigheadking replied: F ✊🏻😔

peachyangel replied: f 🥺🥺

yoitslucas replied: F 🤪🤪🤪 but glad you’re happy, man ❤️

donutkillmyvibe replied: F 💔

morklyrawr replied: @ donutkillmyvibe wtf babe????

officialgordonramsay commented:

didn’t i tell you to get back on tinder ?

apado_god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

3K notes · View notes

theramseyloft · 2 years

Text

Friday 4/29/22 Report

Cheeto is furious that I spent yesterday with family and not at home. Neither my toes nor my breakfast are safe.

If I'm standing, he's chasing and biting my toes with such dogged determination that I'm scared of inadvertently kicking or stepping on him.

Cotta has decided that anyone in the kitchen must be supervised, but he's at least polite about sitting still on my shoulder and keeping out of the way. I have to discourage it, though, because it riles Cheeto ALL they way up, and the kitchen is a dangerous place to either have a brawl break out between two birds on my shoulder, or have a bird trying to dance on my wrist when my hands are full of either hot or sharp things.

Sitting on the couch with my feet out of reach, he's alternately trying to stomp in and snatch bits from my bowl of freshly steamed broccoli. Eating a floret or two won't hurt him, but it's very hot and he'll burn himself.

The dear hubby ended up having to take him into his office. After which Cotta tried to steal broccoli from the bowl, and bit me for blocking him from burning his little tongue.

Cotta at least isn't anywhere near as determined as Cheeto to do dangerous things for attention.

Once my breakfast cooled enough to no longer be potentially scalding, Cheeto was allowed back put into the living room.

Gordon has not reacted to April's passing the way he did to Sasami's.

When Sami passed, Gordon tirelessly searched and called for her, stopped preening, lost his appetite, and wouldn't respond to us.

That usually means the pair was ill, but Sami's necropsy proved that she died of a stroke, and the nestling they had at the time never got sick.

After April passed, Gordon was a little less boisterous than usual for all of two days.

He isn't looking for her, or calling for another hen.

He does call to me of Mike in passing, and seems content to be talked to, danced with, held, and have his neck and little cheeks gently preened.

I'm puzzled, but relieved. As long as his needs can be met, I want this to remain his forever home.

Jesus Christ, Cheeto is just off his furious little rocker today! The entire time I was taking my blood pressure, he was biting between my toes and twisting his hook. I'm apparently not allowed to go outside. He's tried to fly out the door behind me, and when that didn't work, he tried to sneak out on foot.

Had to come in after washing the mats and mesh. My left foot, back, and shoulders all went out at once.

Some concerns for when Dr. Mayer calls back:

'PMV might have been a false negative if bird was in recovery and no longer shedding.'

There is no way he was "in recovery". Banner was actively dying at the time of euthanasia. I do not understand how he could have been "in recovery".

Jesus Christ. Cheeto may actually be contributing to my worsening limp.

My right is my lead foot, and when he dives to bite it while it's moving, all I can do avoid stepping or falling on him is hold it up and roll the foot that's planted to keep balance.

It's just staying in the rolled position...

Sterling, Orchid, and Taffeta all came to see me while I was laying out the clean food mesh.

Oh. It looks like Cheeto got used to me being stuck on the sofa, and was trying to forcefully drive me to sit down where he could brood with my feet.

Which apparently requires something be draped over them.

Unfortunately, constant, furious biting when I'm already in pain and struggling to walk does not help me work that out.

More evidence backing the theory that he was a released imprint.

Cotta is much better at bridging the communication gap when he wants something from us.

Cheeto was just never equipped for that and his severe anxiety doesn't do him any favors.

I'm very relieved to know what he wants.

Just going to have to keep a cuddle cloth on the floor in front of the sofa for him to get his social time in when I need to rest or have a meal.

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jeonsblackgf-writes · 3 years

Text

LIES WITHIN YOUR WORDS || 2 ||

summary: Sierra left, but she didn’t quite leave😂 (you’ll see)

pairing: basically miguel galindo x black!OC

genre: errrr pettiness? fluff, maybe angst

word count:

AN: DO NOT WORRY! I AM CURRENTLY WRITING A FIC WITH FLUFF WITH ANGEL THEN EZ😂

____________________________________________🖊

"I just don't understand why I have to go back there." Sierra huffed, not wanting to move since she was very much pregnant as hell. She didn't want to leave the comfort of her couch but Miguel was more at ease knowing she was with him at all times with her being so close to her due date. He didn't want anything to happen to her, but he understood where his wife was coming from when she said that she didn't want to go back to the clubhouse after what happened to her 4 years ago. The only two people she's kept up with was Letty and Chucky. They've visited her a few times, they came to the wedding, the baby shower, almost everything. They were the only two people she trusted when it came to the Mayans.

"Mi reina, I completely understand why you don't want to go back, but I can assure you that nothing will happen to you because while I conduct business with Bishop, Nestor will be by your side just as he has been all these years. You have nothing to worry about, just trust me." He reassured her. She sighed and nodded her head as he gave her a triumphant smile. "Besides, it'd be nice to see you be petty every once in a while."

"I'm not liable for anything that happens while you're in the Templo. You know how my mouth gets when I get riled up" She grumbled, slowly sitting up from the couch to slip on her slides. Miguel gave her a kiss on the cheek, and let her have her alone time until it was time to work again. He absolutely knew how much of a hard ass she can get when she gets mad, he's been on the other side of that on several occasions.

Sierra was 100% sure that Miguel was bringing her out of spite because he liked to brag and that's just the type of man he was. He took pride in the fact that he finally found love after Emily since he found out Cristobal wasn't his. He was heartbroken, yeah, but Sierra was there for him when nobody else was, and she was there for him when she told him about the deal that EZ had made with the feds. Of course, she felt like a bad friend, but there was so much betrayal being thrown around inside the Mayans, she didn't care anymore. Now here she is, 4 years later, married and pregnant by the one man that Angel and EZ had hated more than anything.

She had came to peace with herself and what happened to her a long ass time ago. She didn't want to harbour any hate for a man that didn't even deserve her time of the day. She stopped posting on social media because for some reason it had always encouraged him to call her, even while she was engaged to Miguel. She had also known, that Miguel was a completely different breed when it came to loyalty, it was like taking care of her needs was always his first priority and she used to feel so overwhelmed with how much love she had been receiving, but she had gotten used to it.

"It's time to go mi corazon," Miguel announced, walking back into the living room with Nestor behind him. She gave the two men a confused look as she watched Miguel carry a bag. He gave her a smile and handed it to her. She smiled as she looked inside the bag to see that it was filled with all her favourite snacks and drinks since he knew she liked to eat throughout the day. Not wanting to waste any time, she pulled out a bag of hot cheetos and ripped the bag open before popping a handful in her mouth.

Miguel grabbed her free hand and lead her to the car where the driver was waiting. He opened the door for her, placing a hand on her back as she got in. After she got comfortable, he closed the door and walked to the other side before settling himself beside her. Out of instinct, Sierra crossed her legs over her husbands, and scooted closer to him. He smiled and began to rub her thighs as the car started to move, Nestor sitting in the front. Miguel rolled up the partition from his side of the car, and began rubbing her thighs higher and higher, making her look at him suspiciously.

"The same shit your doing now is the reason why I'm pregnant." She grumbled, trying to push his hand away from he only grabbed it and laced it with his other hand as he slowly pulled her panties off with one hand and began to rub her clit slowly in small circles. She sighed and leaned her head back as she tried not to make too much noise because the car definitely wasn't sound proof.

"You know I can never get enough of you querida, no matter how pregnant you are." He mumbled, leaning over to place small kisses on her neck and chest. Sierra sighed in content and leaned back on the seat with her sundress hiked up to her belly, making Miguel smile. Maybe a small quickie wouldn't hurt.

"Miguel just hurry up because you got me horny knowing how sensitive my hormones are." She complained, trying to unbuckle his slack but he slapped her hand away, and held her legs up by the back of her knees.

"Relax honey, it'll be a while before we get there anyway." He stated before eating his wife out like it was her last meal, not giving her a chance to respond properly since she was too busy trying not to moan as she ran her hands through his hair.

Miguel moaned as he felt her drip onto his tongue before pushing her dress up past her. breast so he could have something soft to hold onto. Lately, he had been having sex with her and eating her out more than usual. She tasted sweeter and her pushy was always extremely wet during sex. He let go of her trembling legs, and snuggly placed them on his shoulder so that she would be more comfortable.

He circled his lips around her clit before sucking harshly, receiving a loud moan from her. "Holy fuck! Shit..."

Sierra looked down to her husband over her belly to see him already staring at her with wide eyes as he used both hands to spread her pushy lips as he stiffened his tongue and proceeded tongue fuck her deeper, making her thud down onto the seat and let out another sob as she felt herself coming closer and closer to cumming.

Her mouth fell into a silent scream as she felt her orgasm crash down upon her. Miguel did his best to keep her still as he watched her essence spurt out of her, watching as her legs continued to shake from the huge orgasm. Miguel glanced outside of the moving car for a split second before rushing to pull his slacks down.

"We'll be there in 5, so lets make this quick mi reina," He mumbled, kissing his wife on the lips before leaning back up to thrust into her. Sierra gasped and grabbed her husbands hand as he quickly plowed into her as he tried to get her to finish as she chased his own climax. Miguel tried his best not to moan loud because he knew Nestor would give him shit so he stuck with deep breaths and small grunts. Sierra bit onto her lip as she watched her husband thrust harshly into her.

"You gonna let them know who you belong to amor?" Miguel asked, moving his hand to rub his wife's clit as she came around him. She sporadically and rapidly nodded her head as she tried to push him away but he grabbed both her hands and placed them above her her as he continued his consistent thrusting, now getting to his orgasm as he gave her one more thrust, spilling himself inside her. (I promise I write better smut than this lol.)

"Miguel, we're here." Nestor called from the front. Miguel could hear the sound of the front seat opening before he and Sierra put their clothes on. She straightened herself out, fixing her hair while Miguel pulled up his slacks and buckled his pants back.

It had just dawned on her about what she was about to walk into. Sierra sighed, not wanting to see anyone's face again, not after what happened but she knew she really had no choice seeing as she willingly got into the car with her husband.

Miguel noticed her distress, and comforted his wife, "Hey, if you don't want to come in it's your decision."

Sierra smiled at him and shook her head, "No, I want to. Let's go."

The couple made it out of the car, checking their surrounds before a loud voice caught her attention. Miguel whispered to Nestor about keeping a watch on her, the man nodding his head.

"SIERRA! GIRL HEY!" Letty ran up to the pregnant woman and engulfed her in a huge hug, being mindful of her belly. Miguel smiled at the interaction and stated that he was going inside for his meeting with Bishop, to which Sierra smiled and nodded her head before kissing his lips as a temporary goodbye.

"You're glowing! Miguel really got you out here living your best life." She complimented, looking at her friend. Sierra laughed and rubbed her belly out of instinct.

"Girl, he is but don't tell him I said that shit. His ego already big as hell." She joked, earning a laugh from the younger girl in front of her.

"You wanna head inside?" Letty asked after a small moment of silence. Sierra hesitantly smiled and nodded her head. Letty noticed the hesitance.

"If it makes you feel any better, Angel's been a shit show ever since you left. Adelita was pregnant and he thought it was his but turns out it wasn't. So karma's a bitch I guess." Letty explained as the two of them walked to the doors of the clubhouse. Sierra gave a small hum at the new information. She had always told Angel that Adelita was suspect but he clearly was too deep in her pussy to see that until it was too late.

"I'm married to a good ass man and we got a kid on the way, I could really care less." She stated, walking past Letty to get inside with Nestor following closely behind since she was burning up. It was like a record scratch from those dramatically funny ass movies and suddenly all eyes were on her while some where on her belly.

Of course they were doing the same banter just like the time Angel got caught only his little Adelita wasn't here. Such a shame. She turned to Nestor with a smile on her face.

"Could you get me something to drink?" She asked quietly. Nestor gave her a friendly smile and walked to the bar to ask for some water, returning it back to Sierra as she thanked him and took a big gulp from him. She tried her hardest to ignore the stares but it was getting irritating at this point.

"Are yall gone keep staring or is somebody gone speak?" She asked loudly, scanning the room, and of course the first one to walk up was Angel. Looking past him, Sierra locked eyes with a girl with shoulder length hair, making her squint her eyes at her before the girl broke contact with her and turned around.

"Who knocked you up?" He asked, pointing to her belly before glancing at Nestor who was standing behind him. She smiled at him.

"Not your hoe ass, that's for sure." She replied, pretending to pick at her nails as if she were bored with the conversation already.

"Mi reina seriously, did you let Miguel knock you up?" Angel asked, hoping to hear a no, but from the smile on her face he knew it was the opposite. Sad to say, he had thought about coming to see her all the way up until this point, but she clearly was busy with someone else.

"I'll tell you this. I married the same man who got his heart broken by the bitch your brother constantly fucked. Crazy how their baby wasn't his but EZ's isn't it? Kinda pathetic if you ask me, taking Miguel's sloppy seconds...so weird." She spoke, every ounce of venom on her voice. She had time to be petty today.

"Did you come here to insult us? If you did you can fucking lea--"

"How's Adelita? Y'know with you cheating on me with her and all one would've thought that you guys would be a big happy family with her being pregnant. Oh wait, they poor baby isn't even yours. So not only did you cheat, you allowed a hoe to run game on you. Crazy." She chuckled, shaking her head at him. Angel knew he should say something, but how could he when everything she's saying is true. As far as Nestor, the only thing he could really do was try not to laugh, since he was told not to start anything unless he felt like someone was physically trying to attack his boss's wife and unborn child.

"Seriously Sierra, we get that we fucked you over but chill out." Gilly spoke from the other side of the room. Sierra looked at him and sighed.

"Gilly, if you knew how much dirt I had on you and every person in this room you would shut the fuck up and keep stuffing your fat ass face." Sierra ranted. Where the fuck is Miguel?

"Uhm excuse me but who are you? Angel why are you letting her walk all over you?" One of Vickey's girls asked, standing up to get beside Angel.

"You do know I can put a price on your head and get you knocked off right? Matter fact lemme just..." She trailed off, pulling out her phone to text Miguel but Nestor grabbed the phone from her hand before she could. One phone call and the entire building will be burned to the damn ground with everyone in it.

"He just saved your life. Next time you wanna try somebody, try a bitch that ain't me." She hissed, standing up just in time to see her husband walking out of the templo with Bishop, who could clearly feel the tension in the room. Miguel smiled and walked over to his wife as she welcomed him with a hug.

"She wasn't too much trouble was she?" Miguel asked Nestor, who handed her back her phone.

"Other than the fact that she just tried to get one of Vickey's girls dead, no, she's been an angel as always." Nestor laughed, stepping back from the two of them.

"Why the fuck did you marry her into this shit? You're too dangerous for her." Angel fussed, scowling at Miguel who turned around with an amused look on his face.

"Angel seriously shut the fuck up. You just don't like the fact that I'm married to the one man everybody in this bitch is afraid of because if he's too dangerous for me then you were as well and yet I STAYED with you and you see where that got me. It took you five years to propose to me while it took him one and a half, and we got married 6 moths later. Like my momma always said, a man knows when he ready to settle down, and you weren't ready and that's okay, but don't try to talk about what the fuck I got going on when you clearly got homegirl in the back over there scared to even say shit with her weak ass but I'm not surprised, you always had to fuck weak bitches because you could never handle a real ass bitch like me. Have a nice life dickface." She ranted, grabbing her husband's hand who was shocked at the confrontation. Any other time Miguel would be the first to speak on something like that but hearing his wife do it for him just made his heart swell with pride.

"You handled that better than I would have baby, I'm proud of you." He told her as the two of them got into the car. Sierra smiled and leaned into her husbands side as he pulled her closer and kissed her head.

"Okay now take me home and give me bath." She demanded, causing the other man to throw his head back in laughter.

#angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes #miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x you #angel reyes x reader

145 notes · View notes

asthmark · 4 years

Text

❝ stuck ❞ l.dh

request → “Hi~ I'm absolutely in love with your work. It makes me so soft uwu. I was wondering if you could write a Haechan one similar to the roommate Jeno one you wrote. About what it's like to just live with him” —@demiwizardstay

pairing → demon!haechan, reader, guardianangel!mark

word count → 4.5k

a/n → whoops i made this into a demon!haechan au hahaha sorry i hope this is domestic enough for u tho :D

your eyes must be playing tricks on you.

there’s no other reasonable explanation.

on the other hand, the shadow splayed out ever so comfortably on your couch seems to be very real. it must be just as aware of your presence as you are of its but to your surprise, it isn’t telling you to put your hands where it can see them or demanding to know where all your most valuable items are. it sits there, peacefully as if it owns the place. for a split second you consider the possibility that you walked into the wrong apartment but the key in your hand reminds you that the situation you are in is not your fault in any way.

“so... are you gonna scream or just stand there?”

the figure’s voice is unmistakably masculine and drips with sass. you know you should feel scared. your heart should be pounding as your shaky fingers dial 911 and you hysterically report an intruder to the authorities and beg them to come fast. however, it seems that this stranger’s calm aura has rubbed off on you as you respond with an equally as unbothered tone.

“well, i would appreciate it if you invited me in.” you pause. “oh wait, it’s my apartment.”

with that, you step inside and go about your regular routine with a calmness you didn’t know you possessed; especially when there was an… unwelcome visitor lounging on your sofa. despite that, you kick off your shoes and toss your jacket somewhere on the floor like you normally would. you twirl your keys around your fingers as you go to turn to flick on the light switch. it rids you of the darkness that had settled upon your apartment and the stranger is completely revealed to you.

the first thing you notice about them is their sun kissed skin that’s littered in the freckles you would compare to the most captivating constellation. although, the stranger’s flawless complexion is the least of your worries considering the two horns that peek out from underneath their tufts of brunette hair.

you physically restrain yourself from asking for his skin routine and instead opt for yet another sarcastic comment. “all ready for halloween, i see.” your eyes lock onto the appendages, choosing to ignore how realistic they were. “was party city having a sale?”

your comment seems to get your uninvited guest out of his daze as he scoffs. “are you kidding?”

“hey, this is my place, i ask the questions,” you scold.

he ignores you, instead going to tug on his horns. “these are all real, baby.”

you force yourself to maintain eye contact with him, waiting for him burst into laughter and tell you it was all a prank. instead, his unfaltering smug gaze pierces into you. you swear you stop breathing when his eyes flash bright red for a second.

“alright, you can tell the camera crew to come on out.” you glance around hoping this really was just some sort of hidden camera–practical joke type of thing. you half expect ashton kutcher jump out and tell you that you had gotten punk'd but you’re never granted that privilege. your eyes end up back on the boy lounging on your sofa and he returns the stare, eyes narrowed and mouth curved into a smirk.

it was almost… devilish.

“oh my god.”

“not quite.” he finally stands, stretching his limbs out without a care in the world. “wanna try again?”

you stay silent, mouth slightly agape. there was only one other explanation.

he’s satan. and he’s also in your living room. and the worst part was how undeniably hot he is.

you regret giving him the satisfaction of your stunned silence as it seems like that was the exact reaction he wanted. he laughs at your expression and it just sounds evil.

��alright, alright. i’ll tell you what i am. but only because you mortals are always so cute when you’re scared.”

“i’m not scared, you idiot,” you interject without a second thought. “i just didn’t know i’d be selling my soul today. it’s a total bummer. i’m so young, i still have so much to do. i never even got around to trying yoga with ryujin!”

the boy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “your soul? did i say i wanted your soul?”

“well, you’re like, satan right? isn’t that what you do?”

he rolls his eyes. “i’m obviously a demon. satan is a loser who never leaves his fiery throne. which, by the way, isn’t as cool as it sounds. we’re not on the best terms at the moment.”

“so... you don’t want my soul?”

he shakes his head vigorously, looking disgusted at the mere idea of it. “what would i even do with it?”

“i don’t know. honestly i’m just going off of what i see in the movies.”

“that was your first mistake, baby.” he makes his way closer to you. “this isn’t the movies.”

“okay, back it up,” you say, attempting to put some distance between you and him.

he raises his hands in defeat as he obeys, retreating back to your couch.

“why are you here of all places? shouldn’t you be sipping on a piña colada with satan right now?”

he crosses his legs nonchalantly. “like i said, we aren’t on speaking terms. in fact, i’m kind of… banned.”

“banned?” you echo. “from where?”

“hell? duh.”

you scowl at his attitude. “it’s not my fault you’re on timeout.”

he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “don’t call it that. it’s just a punishment.”

“same thing,” you say, making your way into the kitchen. you weren’t sure if leaving a demon unattended in your living room was the best idea but the initial shock had already worn off. besides, it seemed like he had been in your apartment for a while already. “what did you do anyway?”

“it’s not even that bad,” he grumbles.

“must have been if you got kicked out of hell.” you chuckle to yourself as you open up your pantry, looking for something to stuff your face with. “do you understand how bad you must be if even the devil himself can’t stand you?”

“i’m not bad, per se,” he says, picking at his nails. “just a little annoying.”

“no kidding,” you grumble to yourself, rummaging through your pantry, in pursuit of your favorite snack. you were sure everything would make more sense once you got some food in your system. when all you find is an empty, crumpled bag where your chips had once been, you whine loudly. “did you eat all my hot cheetos?”

“they reminded me of home!”

“i can see why they kicked you out,” you retort.

“listen, i get that this is an inconvenience—”

“that’s kind of an understatement.”

“but, this is the only place i can stay. turns out people freak out when you appear in their living rooms. you were the only one that didn’t.”

“yeah, people usually don’t take too kindly to that—hold on, did you say stay?”

he crosses his arms over his chest. “where else am i supposed to go?”

“anywhere but here.”

he gives you an unamused stare, his eyes glinting red once again.

“i mean, don’t you have any demon friends you can stay with?”

“not here. we avoid earth at all costs. it’s trashy. that’s why this is a punishment.”

not even you can argue with that. “understandable. well, how long are you gonna be here?”

“don’t know.”

you blink at him. “so… you’re planning to crash with me until satan decides to be your friend again?”

he groans. “first of all, he’s never been my friend. second of all, yes, that was the plan i had in mind when i broke into your house.”

“broke in?”

“well, actually i used teleportation powered by the dark arts to get in but i don’t think your tiny human brain is ready for that conversation.”

“and i don’t think it’d be in your best interest to insult the person you’re currently trying to move in with.”

that seems to shut him up, as he purses his lips together and stares at you blankly.

“listen, if we’re going to do this, there’s gotta be some ground rules, okay?”

he stays silent so you decide to continue.

“you have to pull your own weight around here. you might be some powerful being of the underworld but that doesn’t mean you get out of laundry day and doing dishes, got it?”

he seems displeased, if the frustrated huff of air he lets out is anything to go by.

“and you have to promise me that by staying here you aren’t putting me in any kind of danger.”

“well, i can’t guarantee i won’t cause problems,” he says, raking his fingers through the hair in between his sharpened horns. “but i can protect you from whatever crap comes our way.”

you contemplate it. you weren’t entirely sure what a demon like him was capable of but it seemed like it would be a list that was equally lengthy as it was impressive. yet, you still can’t bring yourself to agree to anything.

as if he senses your apprehensive nature, he grabs your chin, forcing you to look into his hazelnut eyes. you only get to admire the warm tint for a split second before his eyes flash red yet again. they stay glowing longer than any of the previous times; long enough for you to notice how shiny and bright they are, reminding you of ripe cherries.

“i promise.”

the tone of his voice is surprisingly firm and definitely the most serious you’ve heard him the entire night. he retreats his hand from you and you find yourself leaning forward, almost craving his touch. his eyes go back to their original hue and you feel yourself regain your senses.

“what did you just do?” you ask, leaning back from him. “what kind of dark magic was that?”

he tries to conceal his smile but ultimately fails, his pearly whites coming onto display. “that wasn’t magic, baby. i believe you just got lost in my eyes but don’t worry. i would too.”

you let out a bitter laugh. “oh my god, you’re vain.”

“do you mortals have to mention him every five seconds?” he chides, grimacing.

it takes you a moment to realize who he’s referring to but when you do, you erupt in laughter. “really? that gets to you? you’re pretty sensitive for a big and bad demon.”

“i have a name, baby.”

“so do i.”

his lips curve into a coy smile. “donghyuck.”

you give him your name in response, not even bothering to think about it twice, much to your surprise. most would probably be more hesitant to introduce themself to a demon, much less invite them into their home.

yet here you were, doing both.

he offers you nothing more than a grin—it seemed more genuine than the last—before turning on his heel to make his way farther into your apartment. “so, where will i be sleeping? i was thinking your bed would be ideal.”

“well, i was thinking you could start with a thank you,” you suggest, trailing after him.

he saunters down the hallway, twisting the knob of the door second to the left and peeking in. you can only imagine how much snooping around he had done before you had arrived, judging by the fact that he maneuvered your home so expertly.

he hums as he scans the room as if it’s the first time (which you’re sure it’s not). “it looks comfortable enough for the two of us.”

you can tell there’s no arguing with him, especially as he steps inside and sits himself on the edge of your bed, hands running over the soft fabric of your comforter. he bounces up and down a couple times, seeming satisfied enough with the mattress.

in the blink of an eye, he’s underneath the heaps of blankets, tucked in snuggly.

you exhale, trying to maintain patience. “i can tell this whole dark magic thing is going to be a problem for me.”

even though only his eyes peek out from beneath the polyester sheets, you’re positive he’s wearing an obnoxious smirk. his voice comes out slightly muffled when he answers, “think of it as a blessing, not a curse.”

“we’ll see.” you try to suppress a yawn but it manages to escape you, eyes squinting and your hand clamping over your mouth. “right now, i gotta sleep. hopefully i’ll wake up tomorrow and realize this was all a dream.”

“so, what you’re implying is that i’m a dream?”

“i meant to say nightmare.”

“that’s more accurate.”

as if the dazed tone of his voice didn’t give his sleepiness away, donghyuck’s drowsy eyes and horns sinking into the soft plush of your pillow certainly did. he looked the least threatening right then and there and you decide that this is the donghyuck you like best. you can’t help the sudden urge you feel to curl up in bed right next to him and doze off into blissful unconsciousness.

“what are you waiting for? get in here.”

could demons read minds too? you can’t be bothered to think about it for another second before you take donghyuck’s very tempting offer and crawl into your bed. you don’t care that you’re not in your pajamas or that you smell like coffee beans, courtesy of the cafe you worked at.

all you can seem to focus on is the feeling of donghyuck’s soft breath against your neck and his oddly cute snores. it was ironic; a demon all cuddled up beside you, sleeping like a baby. you almost giggle at the striking comparison.

needless to say, you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

“you know, it really pisses me off to come home and see you sitting in the exact same position you were in when i left.”

donghyuck rolls his eyes, an expression he’s mastered over time. “what else am i supposed to do? you made it pretty clear that you hate my demonic rituals and that’s kind of my speciality.”

you shrug as you kick your shoes off upon entering your shared apartment. “i don’t know. but binging the entire marvel movie saga can’t possibly be healthy.”

“we don’t have this in hell!” donghyuck exclaims, gesturing to the television his eyes remained glued on.

“well, you should get used to life on earth considering you don’t know how long you’re gonna be stuck here.”

“i’m already on it. pop culture is actually really informative.”

“not what i meant. i was thinking more along the lines of a job.”

donghyuck finally tears his eyes away from the television to give you an unamused stare. “that’s really funny, y/n.”

“i’m serious! would it kill you to get off the sofa?”

“no. nothing would. i’m immortal, remember?”

you narrow your eyes. “oh yeah, almost forgot. you’re gonna be a bother to me forever and ever.”

“this isn’t the ideal situation for me either. but no need to torture me with low life mortal tasks.”

“bills gotta be paid, it’s a part of life,” you respond, taking a seat beside him. “or else we’ll both be breaking into people’s houses and begging them to move in.”

“i didn’t beg, alright? and i didn’t break in either! i simply... appeared.”

“that’s even worse.”

“you didn’t seem to mind when you were all snuggled into me this morning.”

donghyuck’s words paired with his taunting tone cause you to feel slightly warm but you ignore it for the sake of a comeback. “you seemed comfortable yourself because when my alarm for work went off your arm was pretty tight around me.”

you swear you see him pout for a moment. “that’s not my fault! there aren’t many people open to cuddling in hell! i was just… seizing the opportunity.”

“since you’re all about opportunities, you should really look into that job. remember what we agreed on? no slacking off.”

“i’m not! just look in the kitchen!”

you know whatever it is, you’re not prepared for it. nevertheless, you tiptoe to said area, hoping your roommate had simply followed instructions and done the dishes and swept. but, of course, that itself is too much to ask as you watch the sink overflow with suds, plates and silverware scrubbing themselves clean and floating into their respective cupboards. a broom dances across the tiled floor, dust flying everywhere. you find that the mess in your kitchen resembles a train wreck; you want to look away but you just can’t.

you call out to donghyuck, eyes still trained on the chaos before you, asking, “what did we say about rituals?”

“it’s a little more complicated than a ritual, baby!”

once you finally gather enough willpower to walk away from the kitchen and whatever is happening in it, you return to the living room, placing yourself in front of the television that donghyuck is so entranced in.

“you’re coming with me to work tomorrow, got it?”

donghyuck groans for a second before rolling his eyes dramatically hard. “fine. now, can you move? the avengers are about to fight thanos.”

you comply, retreating to your bedroom but not before shouting back, “iron man dies!”

you shut your door, donghyuck’s frustrated screeching still coming through loud and clear.

your phone alerts you that it’s 6 am by playing an alarm so loud donghyuck falls out of bed. comically enough, it’s the loud thump! that comes when donghyuck makes contact with the floor that really gets your eyes to flutter open. you peek over the edge of the bed, every bit of grogginess leaving your body the second you see your roommate tangled in your sheets, limbs sprawled on the ground.

“are you okay?” you ask, laughter lacing your words.

“doing just fine,” he mumbles in response. soon thereafter, his eyes shut once again.

“hey! no way are you going back to sleep, we have work!”

you drag yourself out of bed over to where donghyuck lays, attempting to resume his peaceful slumber. you grab his arms, attempting to hoist him up. you’re almost positive he’s making it more difficult than it should be as he lets his body go completely limp in your grasp. when you finally get him standing upright, he smiles lazily at you, obviously still half asleep.

“c’mon dork, you need to get ready. you’re gonna make some cash today!”

donghyuck makes it clear he understands nothing as the morning progresses.

he doesn’t get the importance of being on time or even working in the first place. he offers to just take out your landlord, which according to him will “solve all your problems”, more times than you count and you’re sure that if he mentions it one more time you’d actually consider it. he also claims he doesn’t understand the concept of a shower, asking you to help him out, yet the knowing smile on his face lets you know he’s more than well aware of what it entails. unfortunately, you realize this after spending more time than you’d care to admit explaining the concept of getting naked to him in a tight, confined space to him only for him to request a demonstration.

upon leaving your apartment, more new things are revealed to donghyuck. you can’t help but admire the wonder and awe in his eyes. the adoration quickly wears off when he throws a temper tantrum at the subway station, refusing to board it and you have to physically force him on and promise that no, he won’t get trapped inside.

despite the slight bumps in the road, you arrive at your shift with time to spare. the clock tells you that you won’t have to be behind the counter for another five minutes so you grab your apron and provide donghyuck with one too. you give him quite possibly the quickest tour of the cafe ever and explain to him over five times what you were there to do (“so, we just take people’s orders? we serve them?” “and they pay for it.” “just when i thought it couldn’t possibly get dumber”). you end putting him on cleaning duty since you were well aware of his lack of social skills. he frowns when you tell him he has to do it himself, no magic allowed. the last thing you needed was someone getting nearly knocked over by a levitating broom and bringing it to your manager’s attention. speaking of—

“good morning, y/n,” greets doyoung. his hair is slicked back and his eyes shine, as always. “always a pleasure to see you on your shift.”

donghyuck watches you cautiously, observing the way you smile nervously and avoid meeting doyoung’s eyes. he assumes he has some kind of authority over you.

“and hello there. who might you be?”

doyoung is now very aware of donghyuck’s presence, giving him a wide smile but a menacing stare. you don’t get a word out before donghyuck’s giving him a polite smile and nod of his head.

“i was just hired, y/n is showing me the ins and outs. i honestly could not be happier working under leaders like you, sir.”

doyoung hums, obviously enjoying donghyuck’s praise enough to let it blind him from the fact that you hadn’t even been hiring in the first place. “sir, huh? haven’t heard that one before.”

donghyuck holds his breath, wondering if he had overdone it.

“i like it. you seem like a hard working fellow. glad to have you on the team.” your boss gives him a firm pat on the back before walking away, probably to go scare some other employees.

donghyuck sticks his tongue out at him once his back is turned and you simply laugh, smile still present on your face when your first customer arrives.

“i’m here!”

you glance up from the cash register to catch your coworker rushing in, looking frazzled… as always.

“hey mark,” you greet, giving him a welcoming smile. “i’m so glad you’re here. there’s been this crazy demand for frappuccinos all day and you know i suck at those.”

mark chuckles as he ties on his apron. “no offense, but the only order you should be taking are the puppuccinos.”

you shoot him the most non-threatening glare possible which ends up with you bursting into a fit of laughter. “i’m not even gonna argue with that.”

“hypothetically, if i made doyoung’s coffee explode on him but made sure he didn’t know, would you be mad?”

you roll your eyes at donghyuck’s bold entrance yet you still giggle. “at this point, i say go for it. ooh, maybe we could even sneak out while he’s cleaning it up. what do you say, mark?”

where there would usually be a giddy laugh, there’s nothing but silence on your coworkers behalf. you put a pause on counting the money in the register to steal a glance at mark who’s eyes are dead set on donghyuck who also seems to be intensely focused on the blonde.

“demon,” mark mutters.

you feel yourself freeze up; how could he possibly know? despite the panic that settles upon you, you’re sure donghyuck will find a way to handle the situation. you expect a lie, maybe even some magic if the situation called for it. when you see his lips curve upwards sinisterly, you know you’re in for an entirely different outcome.

“angel.” there’s a teasing lilt in donghyuck’s voice; it sends chills up your spine.

mark’s jaw is clenched and you know he’s equally as tense as you are. “we should go, y/n.”

“mark, he’s just—”

“now.”

the sudden desperation yet dominance in mark’s tone is even more alarming than donghyuck’s.

“you know,” donghyuck begins, rounding the counter, dramatically. “i’ve never been a fan of the way guardian angels think they own their person.”

you swear your brain shuts down. there was no way you had come into contact with a demon and now an angel—your guardian angel. and there was definitely no way it was your closest coworker, right?

“it’s our responsibility—she is my responsibility.”

donghyuck folds his arms as he gives mark a once over. “you won’t mind if i take over, right?”

mark chuckles, begrudgingly. “you know i can’t let that happen.”

“i’m not hurting her, i’d never hurt her.” donghyuck takes his place next to you, wrapping an arm around you. he peers down at you, eyes glowing red for the first time since your first encounter. “my angel.”

you know the nickname is to piss mark off and you assume it works as you observe his hands clench into fists. although, you’re more focused on how the pet name effortlessly rolled off donghyuck’s tongue, like temptation itself.

“don’t make this difficult for yourself,” donghyuck continues. “you know feelings are dangerous. that’s what they tell you when you first sign up. just don’t let that get you into trouble, got it?”

the tension is suffocating and you almost wish a customer would enter the currently empty cafe to save you from it. although, donghyuck makes sure that you don’t have to endure it any longer as a second later, you’re both gone, only a cloud of red smoke left behind.

mark stands alone in the cafe.

he had gotten this job for you; to look after you.

perhaps he had caught feelings, as well.

he assumes that was his first mistake.

when donghyuck takes you back to your apartment, it seems the awkward atmosphere from the cafe has followed you home.

“uh, can i ask what that was all about?”

“that guy, mark was it? yeah, he’s your guardian angel. i can’t stand it when those guys act like they’re in charge of the person they’re sent to look after,” he seethes.

you watch donghyuck’s fit of frustration carefully, eyes wide. when he sees how confused you are he can’t help but sigh.

“i’m sorry, i just… didn’t appreciate him acting like you were his. guess i don’t really like the thought of that.”

you would have to be oblivious beyond compare to not realize donghyuck was completely and utterly jealous. you prod him further, asking, “well, then who would you rather i belong to?”

he glances up at you. “whoever you want, baby.”

“you know what? i think i have somebody in mind.”

not even a second later, donghyuck takes you back in the security of your bed, under your piles of fluffy blankets. what feels most comfortable (and strangely familiar) is the feeling of donghyuck’s arm clinging to you, making you sure you’re pressed right into his chest like a puzzle piece.

“the person you had in mind was me, right? ’cause if not, this might be awkward.”

your eyes roll back despite knowing he can’t see it. “no, it was mark.”

“not funny.”

your shoulders shake with laughter. “it’s a little funny.”

“whatever, keep laughing. just let me hold you, alright?”

“that would be heaven.” silence settles upon the both of you as you go into nearly hysterical laughter. “get it? because you’re a demon… from hell… and that’s like, the opposite—”

“yeah, i get it, baby.” he pauses. “how many more lame jokes surrounding me being a demon will i have to endure?”

“i definitely have more where that came from so my guess is... more than you can count.”

he moans in displeasure. “you’re lucky you’re cute… for a mortal.”

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blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms · 3 years

Text

Cheetos- Jennifer Jareau

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x Reader

Characters: Jennifer Jareau

Warnings: N/A

Request: Wattpad- “It’s as though I’ve been in love with you my entire life.”

Word Count: 421

Author: Charlotte

Coming home to your wife was always something that could bring a smile to your face. Jennifer was everything that you could have ever wanted in a person and no matter what she was able to make life seem a lot easier than it actually was. Even after a long day at work, being able to see JJ at home felt perfect. Both of you worked long hours and it was stressful work so having each other at home to relax and ignore the hell that was held in life at work was exactly what was needed.

Today was no different. JJ had the day off, but you had a twelve-hour shift at the hospital, so having her at home was exactly what you wanted. As soon as you walked through the front door you heard the tv in the living room so assumed that would be where she was. Making your way there, you found your wife exactly where you expected her; sat on the sofa cross legged, old pyjamas covered in Cheeto dust, and her face matching due to her hand moving between it and the bag, feeding herself the orange coated snack.

“My wife, the image of sexiness and femininity,” you grinned.

Jennifer looked over to the doorway to see you in your uniform, rather dishevelled and knackered after a long day at work.

“I decided to have a pyjama day, and I found a family pack of Cheetos in the back of the cupboard,” she shrugged.

You shook your head at her, knowing that even if there wasn’t any in the cupboard she would have gone out and bought some to stuff her face with. For someone so slim, she did eat a lot of crisps, but it never changed her appearance.

“I honestly don’t know why you love me,” she sighed. “I’m a complete mess.”

Leaning in you pressed a kiss to her lips. “It’s as though I’ve been in love with you my entire life.”

She scrunched up her face taking another Cheeto from her bag. You rolled your eyes at her, grabbing one of the crisps for yourself, resulting in your wife becoming wide eyed.

“You stole a Cheeto,” she frowned.

You popped it into your mouth, grinning at her.

“You know that you love me Jennifer,” you smirked. “You should learn to share with the woman that you love.”

She continued to glare at you. “If you do it again, I don’t know if I will.”

You poked out your tongue at her.

#Cheetos #Request #Jennifer Jareau One Shot #Jennifer Jareau Imagine #Jennifer Jareau #JJ Imagine #JJ One Shot #JJ #Criminal Minds Imagine #Criminal Minds One Shot #Criminal Minds #CM One Shot #CM Imagine #CM #Charlotte

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years

Text

It’s The Avengers (03x14)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 14: It’s Not What It Looks Like

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: ehehehehehe

Word Count: my anxiety was through the roof this time. and that too on the thing that I know was not achievable. But noooo my boss just wants results. Well, fuck you and your boss who gave me anxiety. You will know the pain of these tears soon.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The familiar sports car shining in its red shade came to a halt right outside the door for Tony to get out and greet the lone camera covering him. "How's it going fellas?" He seemed comparatively chirpier than the last few days as he whistled his way to the boot of the trunk to take out five boxes of large pizzas along with a whole bag filled with soda and side dishes. "It's pizza party today, my lovely unicorn," he announced to the camera person; mostly because there was no one else in his vicinity.

Tony: *standing next to his car* I have come realise that I have been a bit hard on my team because of the anxiety I've been feeling ever since Y/N disappeared from right in front of me. Like last Monday. *camera switches to the video recording of Last Monday* Tony is seen in the kitchenette making detox juice for himself after a workout. Sam comes and grabs the coffee pot, looking around for a mug to pour himself some. The only mug hanging on the stand is your Brooklyn Nine-Nine themed one. "Well," he mutters to himself, "no one's using this for a while." Just as he finishes the sentence, Tony's hand slips on the juicer switch and the green spill out everywhere in the space, making Sam yell for help. "You are excluded from my will," Tony announces while looking dead into Sam's eyes before pouring the coffee from his pot into the sink and walking away. *back to present* Tony: Pepper says I went overboard but Sam didn't have to say that now did he. *makes a cringe face* Anyways. This is my way of showing them that I have made peace with the situation for now and that I trust our alien friends to get my daughter back to me asap.

Tony walked into the facility to be greeted by dead silence. "Did I miss something?" he wondered out loud for the camera while looking around the lobby and the waiting area. "I am pretty sure we were not supposed to go out anywhere thanks to that stubborn virus." He walked up the elevator to be greeted by Clint coming back from the security room with his self-regulated watch, carrying two glasses of iced Americanos- one of which he offered Tony. "Pizza-" he seemed happy to see the boxes, taking the bag from Tony- "what's the occasion? Are you firing one of us? Is there a budget cut because of the 'Rona? In that case, just know that I spot a person without a mask from miles. And I can end them right there." Tony pressed the button for the lounge and waited for the camera to record his wink and smile till the doors closed to let the other handy camera in the elevator- following Clint- take over. Clint did a survey of the bag and was quite content with the contents. Tony, still with his glasses on, walked his usual walk that displayed well that he owned the place. "No one's getting fired unless they are eating my choco-chip ice cream." "You have set the bar pretty low." "It's pretty much up to the expectations I have from you all."

Clint shrugged and went on to agree with him, walking behind the Iron Man as the elevator dinged. The camera followed Clint and Tony out to film the scene unfolding in the Lounge. Manoeuvring away from their shoulders, the camera caught that deadpan silence in the room filled with nearly every Avenger staring at the screen with the seriousness of defusing a bomb that may go off any time. Peter was hiding under Scott's arm, peeping at the screen through his hands while Scott was biting his nails, nervousness dripping from his forehead. Wanda held Vision's hand while she muttered something under her breath- most probably a chant. Sam seemed to have forgotten he was watering the plants for the water-can was already empty and yet he still went on to pour the contents while his eyes were glued to the screen. Bucky's hands were busy brushing Zuko's fur- while the pupper took this opportunity to lay in his lap and snooze- monotonously, his gaze too stuck on the screen. "Come on, come on. Do it," Steve muttered while on the edge of his seat on the sofa. The camera swivelled back to Clint and Tony- both of whom had confused looks on their faces by now. Both of them turned to the screen in sync to witness what exactly was it that had all of them in such a grim state. And it was something like this.

On the screen was a barely lit space that seemed like it could have been a small closet under somebody's staircase. In that barely lit space, you could be seen from your abdomen up. There you were, panting, sweating, your hair a literal mess, your bra strap dangling out of your tank top's straps. "Again," you panted, wiping the sweat beads from your forehead while positioning your hands on a surface where the camera was seemingly recording you from. And in that same dim light, a movement was discovered behind you. That movement was of the exposed muscles and skin that the viewers had never seen in their daily life. Well, neither had they seen that very person pant and sweat like this before as well. Green eyes shined in that bare light, as the familiar face came out from the shadows to apparently hover just above your shoulder. One pale hand was used to remove those clammy hair strands coming in his way before both arms mimicked your position and came to rest on either side of your arms. "Are you sure?" Loki's voice, breathless and heavy, questioned you with sincerity while his body did not budge from behind you. You nodded. "Again." The frame caught you adjusting your hips to position your butt right with his front- something that was not covered by the camera. He towered over you, adjusting to your height while grounded his arms on the surface. "Okay then," he whispered, taking one arm to move your butt a little closer to your frame before going back to anchor himself to the surface, "here we go."

The iced Americanos created a crackle and bang louder than expected- thanks to the already looming silence- when they hit the floor. The pizza box and other snacks? Not so much. Every other person jumped where they were to turn and watch the colours from Tony and Clint's faces drain away by the second, their jaws unhinged, their hearts at a pause and their lungs just no longer working. Steve- the only one in the room to have deciphered what had just gone down in those Dad brains- got up and raised his arms till his chest as of sign of caution. "It's not what you think. Tony, Clint it's not-" The elevator dinged and out came Natasha and Bruce with four feet long bags of Cheetos and popcorn, the former quite excited to rush out into the Lounge. "We found the snacks from the pantry! Did we miss something? Did they put it in yet?" Steve winced just as Bruce blurted out those words. Tony was already heaving audibly, no air going into his lungs as he nearly collapsed on the floor if not for Natasha holding him up like she was used to it. Clint, on the other hand, had 'disgusted' written all over his face, judging every single person in the room before storming out. "OH MY GOD!!!! OH MY GAAAAA~" the screams could be heard from outside while the camera zoomed in on Natasha's face- already bored and tired.

Natasha: If they had more than one working brain cell they wouldn't have fought like twelve-year-olds in the middle of an airport and then stopped talking for a whole year. *camera pans in on her face* *faces the camera* And to think they can procreate. .

One Hour Ago Eight Hours Earlier In A Galaxy Far Away One of the camera drones stepped over a stone wall and passed over a dozen guards, buzzing its best to enter the first window it could find. Passing over ogres guarding the small galleries, another drone accompanied the first one down the maze of hallways, parting at the stairway leading down to the dungeons and up to the meeting room. The way to the dungeons was one dark path that only lit up at the very end of the hallway- few lamps burning with constant flickers. The space was divided into walls and covered with iron bars. A few of these cells were empty while others housed creatures who are only spoken about with the name of their shadows. In the last cell was a shadow that seemed similar to that of a human sleeping under the lone ragged excuse of a blanket. If one tried to focus, they could hear light snores coming out of that creature too. The drone came to rest upon one of the iron bars, sending in the live feed to the cameraman behind this whole shebang. The other fly had already found the 'throne room'. The throne- as one could make out with the setting of the hall- was made out of a tree trunk burned till all that was left was an ash-covered dead piece looking up at the sky. The seat was carved right through the middle with one of the ashened branches housing a black adder with red eyes. And in the throne sat the one person no one wanted to see. "Aellae," you mumbled in the most derogatory sense, your eyes wanting to hurt her there and then through the screen in Javier's hand. And lo! Right then the God stepped in the frame, standing in front of the witch with his usual demeanour. Well, that's what it looked like. "Why do you have to bow to her?" You whispered at him a bit viciously. White entered the frame that was recording your end. Looking at the screen he furrowed his brows and wondered how you could tell that. "He stands straight," you stressed, already sensing the question from White, "and right now he is not. And he does not not stand straight for anyone." "I see you have found yourself a fine pair of pets on your galactic travels, my love," you and White hear Aellae from the screen, bringing your attention back to her. "Just a bunch of humans and a kitten to entertain me on my way," he chuckled and shrugged a little, that Asgardian charm resurfacing in his smile. Aellae smirked at him. "On your way to where?" The question had a hint of anger even when she added a wave of curiosity, something that was easy to catch of the one who was listening to layers in her voice. Loki waved his hands in the air. "You know how it is for me. Here and there, always on the move. A nomad exploring the universe." "No more," she announced, her head high, her stare stern, "now you stay with me. You will be my advisor in the day, guiding my army to every corner of this world, with nothing to spare." She got up from her throne to walk an inhumanly seductive gait to reach the God and place her finger under his chin. "And in the night, you shall be my pacifier," she whispered, making your whole face cringe for the camera to zoom into it. "You shall satiate all my bedly desires till I the very. last. drop." Something cracked on the other side, making Javier and White turn in every direction to look at the source of the sound. Lulu too was a bit confused. You were the only person not taking your eyes away from the screen.

You: I swear to God if she was not such a bitch, I would have asked her out. Would have even gone to lengths of being her *makes air quotes* bedfellow if she was not such a fucking bitch?? Javier: *turns the camera to himself with the dazed look on his face* *signs for the camera* I am supportive and all in for this but is now really a good time for her to be questioning her sexuality? When we can literally die for just breathing wrong???

"Now," Aellae snapped everyone back to the screen, "as for those pets of yours, I'll send someone to take care of them. They are just hindrance if nothing more." "Aellae," Loki's honey laden voice was now implying a sternness. "What." "They are not to be given enough importance to be-" Loki sighed and closed his eyes- "taken care of." "All the more fun to watch them die in misery." Her eyes widened with excitement at the thought of murder. "Especially that Midgardian who is living in the illusion of being your friend." Loki's jaw tightened. "If you decide to harm h-them, I will not aid you in your irrational quests, Aellae. Going after those weaklings proves that you are still the reckless stubborn creature that I left you." There wasn't an exclamation of surprise on her face but rather that particular smirk of the devil who has walked its prey right into its trap. "So, she does mean something to you." Loki kept mum. "Guards!" she yelled for the two orcs standing outside, "bring me the head of the woman!" "Aellae, stop," he begged casually. "Enough humour." "And do whatever with the rest of her!" she ordered with her eyes piercing through Loki's soul.

The next thing you know, the last fly drone that got lost on the middle floor somewhere was recording two orcs throwing Loki into a room before shutting the door behind him. His grunts echoed through the room with no windows. All around him were walls coloured in a dusty cream shade, lamps lining up the four walls with one dressing table sitting with one of the four walls, housing heavy chains, the purpose of which Loki did not want to know. He huffed as he stood up, looking at the door before letting his gaze land on those shackles on his wrist that now seemed permanent. The tension on his jaw did not go unnoticed by the tiny roommate before he slammed those bracelets- along with his wrist- into the wall in pure animalistic rage.

Witch's Den- Down the Hall Two orcs stood guard to the entrance coming to the floor via the stairs. One of them seemed to be snoozing with all the pressure sitting on his nose and brows while the other one was trying to drive away this one stubborn fly that kept buzzing around its head. Eventually reaching the threshold of irritation, he followed the fly out towards the stairs, his curved sword being swung into the air to strike the buzzing creature; only to be taken by surprise with a bright source of light. The next thing the fly was recording was the other orc waking up to the clunk of a sword dropping, this one finding gasping and taking an attack position before the camera went dark.

But not for long.

The fly in Loki's room recorded the God catching the sounds outside while he was in the middle of surveying the whole room for an escape route. The grunts and gasps of orcs outside have stopped, making him all the more cautious to the steps that steadily approach the door. He took one of the chains in his hand, with calculated steps, walked towards the door to catch whatever tried to come in next. With the sound of a heavy key twisted inside the keyhole, the wheels turned and the door opened a smidge to let someone in. Without losing even a second, Loki wound the chain around your neck from behind you, nearly choking you. "Not now, dammit!" you choked, trying to free yourself from the hold. "Y/N?" the surprise stirring along with confusion was a new shade on Loki that you would have appreciated any other day. "Wha-what are you doing here?" That God wasn't even able to squeak on realising it was you. The chains came off as fast as they had gone around your neck, giving you room to breathe and widen your eyes in horror. "No! No no no no noooo!!" You ran towards the door as it clunk shut, leaving you to pull at it with all your might to no avail. "The door opens from outside," you groaned with a sob, thumping your head on it with low winces before a tiny realisation hit you hard enough to stop and look back at Loki. "Ow!" He yelled at the hard slap that came for his back, looking at you in simmering confusion. "You could've waited to choke me after we got out, you fucking IDIOT!" The slaps and punches got more vigorous with each word until Loki had to gab your hands with his to stop you from wasting your energy anymore. "And what makes you think coming here was a good idea?" He struggled to keep your writhing form from hurting itself more than him. You were ready to kick him in his shins and you would have absolutely done that if Loki had not shoved you into the wall with him towering over you to restrict any movement of your limbs. The little buzzing drone came to sit over Loki's arm and capture the frame where both of you were flaming with anger and still trying to breathe enough to keep that rage alive. "I'd already told you were on your own," he grunted, his eyes drilling through your soul. "And I'd already told you I am a psychology major. I can see the denial routine from miles away, you stupid blob of six-foot galaxy brain! You think I haven't sacrificed myself to a professor for the sake of my friends?" "...what? Wait. What do mean by sacri-" "Now get off me and find us a way out of here." You pushed him back. Well, at least you thought you did. But he pushed closer to you, shooting emotions of mild surprise in your eyes before you caught yourself slipping. Fortunately, this little drone caught everything in 4K. From the veins popping in Loki's neck to the parted lips and wavering gaze of yours. "This world is not a joke, Y/N. There was a reason you were left behind. And you have done the exact opposite of that which is supposed to keep you alive." It felt as if Loki had to restrain from spilling that anger over the rim. To make that hypothesis true, he punched the wall to dissipate this emotion he did not want to be running him. And there he stood, his head hanging above you in defeat, his eyes closed and his breath wavering. "I was supposed to send you home safe," he was barely able to mutter. The drone focused on your hands coming around his torso, your arms taking as much of his frame in a hug as possible as you softly patted his back and soothed him. Loki's body twitched a little at this new touch, still like a stone before giving in with every wave of your soothing touch. "You're family, idiot. I'm not gonna leave you behind with some crazy bitch that isn't me?" A chuckle resonated through you and then the room. The next moment when you looked at him, he was looking lighter. "Now come on, use your muscles and drill through one of these walls." Raising his good brow, he judged you while tapping his fist casually on the wall. "What exactly do you take me for?" "A cheesy brooder who's all soft inside," you commented without skipping a beat, looking around to find some kind of a loophole in this square room. "Say that outside these walls and watch what this brooder does to you." "Sounds like an invitation," you sang under your breath, tapping the walls. It took a while. A while that was long enough for you to move around the room to come and sit on the lone drawer by the wall, feeling the heat of the room bursting out the sweat in your skin, other than turning your brain into an irritated mush. You groaned while taking off your top and throwing it on the floor. You wanted to cry out loud to blow off some of the unbearable heat but stopped short at the sight of that overcoat coming off. Followed by that black shirt. Muscles. No matter how he moved or what he did, his back lived in that moment to tease you with those muscles. And what was that? Sparkles? No, sweat, glistening in the dim light. Wait, why was it glisten- You looked around and realised the lamps were at their wick's end. "Same," you sighed as you looked back at Loki's back, only to find him turned around to face you. "Oh, Gods!" you jumped down from the drawer with quite the surprise in your eyes. "This is your first time seeing me shirtless?" It almost felt like he was genuinely curious. "What? No! I don't know. That wasn't the-look!" You signalled him to come closer and let your hand hang right above the drawer's top that touched the two corners of the wall. Loki mirrored you and realised it instantly. "That's a cold breeze." He looked at you with pupils expanding wide in that dim lighting. Taking over from there, he tried his best to get a look as to which section of the wall it was coming from. "There's an opening-" he immediately shifted his position to standing parallel to the length of the wall, his hands grounded on the varnished top- "we will have to either pull it-" he tried his best but the structure did not budge- "or push it towards the opening in that section." You got to work as well, standing next to him and giving your end of the small corner a good push that only ended up in failed grunts. "Okay, let's try another way," you inhaled, "I'll push the top, you be the bottom."

The drone was sitting on the drawer now, capturing all those failed attempts from every angle both of you thought possible before you nearly collapsed due to lack of air. "We're are clearly doing something wrong here," Loki huffed, his puffed-up chest, the centre of the camera's frame. You flipped your wet hair to show your tired face in the lone lamp that burned in the room. "There weren't any more of those BDSM chains inside it, were there?" Loki's breathing stopped for a moment. You looked at him for an answer. Both of you moved to open the drawers. The drone captured the disappointment in your own IQ in high definition before watching you both taking them out with nothing but pure spite. "Take a break, I'll try-" "No," you shook your head and wiped the forehead sweat, "let's do it together." Loki wanted you to stop but that you gave him was more than adequate to let anyone know you won't listen right now. "This time you stand behind me and let's use the wall behind as a supp....ort? Wait how is this room looking shorter?" You were looking around in dazed confusion while Loki closed his eyes. "It's not a normal room. Those two walls will keep closing in until..." He didn't have to say more. "Well, then what are we waiting for?" the drop of panic in your high pitched voice was evident as you positioned yourself- putting your palms on the edge. "Come on." Loki came to stand behind you, copying your position, just a bit more charismatically- and with a bit more skin- till he felt your hair come into his mouth. "One, two, three!" This time the push did budge the drawer chest a bit but your strength had been used for that movement of a centimetre. Your breaths almost felt like your lungs were on the verge of crying. "Again," you panted, wiping the sweat beads from your forehead while positioning your hands on a surface where the drone was seemingly recording you from. Loki looked at your back, clearly concerned. This time he used his hand to remove those clammy hair strands coming in his way before both arms mimicked your position and came to rest on either side of your arms. "Are you sure?" Loki's voice, breathless and heavy, questioned you with sincerity while his body did not budge from behind you. You nodded. "Again." The frame caught you adjusting your hips to position your butt right with his front- something that was not covered by the camera. He towered over you, adjusting to your height while grounded his arms on the surface. "Okay then," he whispered, taking one arm to move your butt a little closer to your frame before going back to anchor himself to the surface, "here we go." Both of you had your eyes stuck on the wall with a fiery gaze and an aura that would have burned this place to the ground. His muscles tried to take all that you could not. And just when the grunts were turning into screams, the drawer started to move from its place with a screeching noise. As soon as Loki noticed a decent enough opening in the wall to your and his side, he pushed you and himself in through the opening before the death walls came for your limbs. The drone fly followed. Both of you rolled through what seemed like a tunnel slide through the walls for a minute till that just did not seem to end. It did end though. It ended in a noisy fall of thuds and groans- you on top of him. "You okay?" you winced through your broken voice, not moving a muscle for the fear of breaking something. Also because it was awkward lying over him on your stomach. Loki replied with a quick wince. A ruffle came from next to you. Followed by a lazy groan. Your head turned to the noise. So did Loki's. "You two could have easily waited for another hour." The drone swerved around to bonk into the one that was already there, covering the dungeons. There under the rugged blanket, laid Carol Danvers, looking at the two of you with sleepy eyes. Neither of you knew what to say. She looked at her watch and put her head inside the blanket again. "Five more minutes."

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unitchiefs-blackbirdphoenix · 3 years

Text

Truth and Awakenings Ch. 9

Summary: A Jemily rewrite of certain scenes in 14x15 and the first few episodes of season 15, with a few additional scenes :)

Chapter summary: JJ and Emily go on a last-minute planned, late night date.

Read on AO3

It was a late Saturday night, but Tara, JJ, Luke, and Penelope had finished the case early with one of Penelope’s workshop attendees as the target victim of their prime suspect. Emily had a headache from dealing with her ex-neighbor, who thought there was something more to the FBI than they led on. On the ride to the hospital to meet Kristy and Matt there, she had complained to JJ about the awful Saturday she had and begged that their date would save the day. The blonde only gave her a sympathetic smile as a response.

Right now, JJ and Emily had just exited the hospital after congratulating Matt and Kristy for the birth of their fifth child.

“Do you really think they’ll stop at five?” Emily asked, walking in the parking lot and feeling JJ lace her fingers with hers.

JJ shrugged. “Who knows? They are an attractive couple.”

Emily raised an eyebrow at her. “And what does that make us? I mean, I don’t think I have the ability to make you pregnant.”

JJ snorted at the joke. “Well, I wasn’t planning on having more kids after my boys, at least, not giving birth any time soon.”

“Would you have considered it, though? Having more kids, I mean,” Emily asked quietly and seriously.

“If it was with you, I would. Now,” she brought Emily’s hand up to her lips. “I believe I owe you a date. A proper one, this time.”

Emily beamed lovingly at her, blushing at the gesture. “Yes. Where are we going?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“JJ!” Emily whined. “I told you, no surprises. Come on, please.”

JJ kissed her cheek. “It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

“Don’t I get to change first?” Emily frowned down at her outfit. She was wearing a black work dress underneath a blue/grey jacket and black heels.

JJ followed her eyes and smiled. “It’s better if you stay the way you are.”

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JJ had planned a last minute small intimate picnic for Emily and herself. She did some late-night grocery shopping and bought things needed for their date in her backyard. She opted for her backyard as the date setting since she had to cancel dinner plans at Emily’s favorite Italian restaurant.

She was a little sad that a busy day at work made her put her plans for a whole day spent with Emily on hold. While working beside Tara on the case, JJ told her she and Emily were supposed to have their date today, but was instead stuck with a Twitch streamer who had quite the sex life. JJ was disgusted by the evidence they had of it, that she kept counting the minutes until she saw her girlfriend’s beautiful face again, to erase the horrors she faced today.

“So…” JJ started, holding a bottle of wine in her hand. “Since we had a case today, I had to cancel the reservation, but I did manage to get us sandwiches, a few snacks, and wine for us. And Will still has the boys, so we are finally alone.”

“Finally,” Emily exhaled in relief, sitting on the blanket they set down on the grass. “No interruptions.” She gently pulled JJ by the wrist and onto her lap, surprising the blonde. JJ wrapped her arms around Emily’s neck with a smile and kissed her, while holding the wine bottle in her hands.

Emily’s lips moved to her neck, and JJ lightly pushed her away, scooting beside her. “Come on. Let’s eat,” JJ said, taking the contents out of the picnic basket. She took out two deli sandwiches, a small container of veggies, some crackers and a cheese platter.

“Wow,” Emily chuckled and looked at the food in front of her. “You really went all out.”

JJ just shrugged and opened the wine bottle with a corkscrew, pouring the wine inside two glasses. Handing one to Emily, they both raised their glasses with a clink before taking a sip of their beverages.

JJ looked up at Emily from her glass, swallowing before she spoke up. "Emily, listen. I'm sorry this didn't go as planned…"

Emily shook her head. "Don't worry." She took JJ's hand in hers and smiled. "I really like this."

"But, well- it's because I thought you wanted-" JJ frowned, feeling disappointed in herself. She really wanted to impress Emily. Even after knowing each other for such a long time, JJ was still nervous about how she would please the woman.

Emily lightly laughed. "JJ, relax. Stop putting yourself down. It's nice to go outside of luxury every now and then. You know my whole life isn't always like that, right?"

JJ shook her head. "No, of course not. I'm really sorry. It's just-" she sighed and looked away from Emily. "I'm really nervous about this, Emily. Not about our relationship! I mean, planning this. Our first date. I just wanted this to be special, you know? I'm sorry, you know what? I'm probably messing this up…" she rambled.

"Hey. No, you're not, JJ," Emily reassured. "I'm used to a lot of my dates taking me to some extravagant, five-star restaurant, and I felt like I was back at my mother's galas all over again. They were nice- well, some of them, but I think I need a break from all that. So, a late-night picnic’s a nice change of pace.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

JJ started to smile, feeling a little relieved. “So, what do you want to start off first?”

“Sandwiches,” Emily pointed with a finger. “I’m starving.” JJ picked up the sandwiches and handed one to her. Unwrapping it and taking a satisfying bite, Emily closed her eyes and moaned. “God, I needed this. Thank you.”

“Yeah, well, it was this or microwaving dino nuggets and calling it dinner.” JJ took another sip of her wine after her sentence.

Emily dramatically gasped. “You mean, you guys had dino nuggets and didn’t tell me?! JJ, I thought you loved me. Why would you keep such a secret from me?” She pouted at her girlfriend.

JJ tilted her head back with a laugh. “You should remind me the next time you come over to spend time with me and the boys,” she winked at her, earning a smile from Emily.

They fell to a silence with only their quiet munching of their food. It wasn’t as awkward as they both had expected, especially since they both knew each other for such a long time and were already so close. It was comfortable with a few stolen glances at each other and small talk in between bites. Not much has changed, but they were ok with it.

“Wait. I almost forgot something,” JJ said, checking inside the basket with a frown before finally finding the item she was looking for. "Ah, here we go!"

Emily gasped as she saw the small square red box with a little white ribbon tied to it. "Is that-"

"Yep." JJ said with a smile, opening the box, revealing it to be pieces of chocolate inside.

"You really do love me." Emily sighed happily, eyes twinkling with adoration. She reached a hand out to grab a piece, but was met with a head shake from her girlfriend. Emily frowned at her. "What was that?"

JJ smirked, grabbing one in between her thumb and index finger. "Open."

Emily nearly blushed at the command and slowly dropped her mouth open. JJ fed her the piece and closed her mouth with her fingers. She softly kissed her cheek and Emily started chewing, blushing even harder.

JJ stared at her with a loving smile and tucked some hair behind Emily’s ear. “You’re so cute.” She loved seeing the effect she had on the older woman at this very moment. Her cheeks were still tinted pink and she had a mix of surprise and confusion in her eyes.

Emily swallowed down the sweet treat and smiled back. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring a pack of cheetos tonight. I would’ve returned the favor.”

JJ shrugged. “I decided to retire it for the night.”

“Really? I thought you could never live without them,” Emily teased.

“Well, I don’t think it would be fair to have two of my loves on this date,” JJ joked before staring up at the night sky. The stars were scattered around, and the moon was full and shining in the corner of JJ’s eye. She smiled, “Emily, you remember Roslyn, right?”

“Yeah, why?” Emily grabbed another piece of chocolate and tilted her head up to see what her girlfriend was looking at.

“We used to go outside at night whenever one of us was dealing with something,” she started explaining, turning her attention back to Emily. “My parents argued a lot before she died, so Ros and I would take a breather and look at the sky. We’d talk our problems out and just admire the world around us. You know, get lost in it. Escape from reality. We both made a promise that if we were ever apart, we'd go outside when the moon was full, look up into the sky, and we’d be looking at the same thing. And we’d never be apart.”

“Wow,” Emily breathed out, looking up again. “I never knew that.”

JJ nodded and stared straight ahead. “Yeah,” she sighed. “I still do it to this day. Like after we got back from East Allegheny.” She bit her lip and shook her head with an almost bitter smile, feeling tears well up in her eyes. “I looked up at the sky and said, ‘Hey, Ros. We caught Mr. Howard. That sick son of a bitch.’” With a small sniffle, JJ looked up again. “I really miss her.”

Emily had her attention on the other woman and nodded in sympathy. “You must have,” she smiled softly. “She meant a lot to you, huh?”

Sniffling again, JJ answered quietly. “Yeah.” After a few more seconds had gone by, she shook her head and wiped her tears away with a small puff of breath. “Anyways, uh… sorry about all that. I didn’t mean to get so emotional on our first date.” JJ nervously wiped her hands on her jeans.

“No. I get it.” Emily said and placed a hand on her arm, squeezing it. JJ scooted closer to her and rested her head against her shoulder. The older woman instinctively put an arm around JJ and held her close.

They took this moment to enjoy the silence and warmth of each other’s presence. JJ loved how easy it seemed between the two of them, after thinking about how she was going to mess this up with Emily. Emily smiled to herself and kissed blonde hair. She was so grateful to have JJ with her, right next to her. It felt like a dream come true and she didn’t want it to end.

“So, how about you?” JJ asked, turning her head slightly to look at Emily.

“Me?”

“When you were younger?”

Emily snorted and shook her head. “Yeah, I don’t think you’d want to know.”

“Come on,” JJ playfully poked her side with a smile. “Because I don’t believe you were ever a bad influence. You’re too good for that, Emily,” she said sincerely. She remembered Emily saying once that her friends’ parents thought she was a bad person because of the things she had done when she was younger, and she refused to believe that is true.

Emily shook her head and waved a hand, looking down at her lap. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not. Emily, look at me,” JJ softly said and the other woman obeyed. “I know there’s more to you than you lead on. I want to know the real you. You don’t have to lay everything down on the table right now, but I’m curious to learn about you.”

The grey-haired woman reluctantly nodded after sipping her wine and nervously setting it down on the picnic blanket. JJ looked at her with soft and attentive eyes, patiently waiting for her to speak.

“I didn’t pay people to do my homework for me when I was younger,” she began. “Never bullied anyone for it either. It was bad enough that my mom and I pretended she wasn’t ‘helping’ me with my tuition, so I did all my assignments, spent most of my time in libraries, took a lot of notes, even asked for extra credit.”

“Did you ever take a break in between them?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes. But we were always on the move, so it was hard for me to really settle down and make any friends. In fact, the only true friend I had growing up was Matthew,” Emily smiled sadly. “I really miss him.”

JJ nodded in understanding and gently took Emily’s hand in hers to squeeze it. She knew what that feeling was like herself.

Emily shook her head to distract herself. “I’m sorry. Now, I’m being emotional.”

“It’s ok,” JJ assured. “We can move on, if you’d like.” She figured it was a sensitive subject for Emily, and didn’t want to push her, but she was glad that she was opening up at least.

Emily nodded with gratitude and relief. She thinks she's not entirely ready for that conversation just yet. “Ok. I’m actually really, uh, decent in math.”

An eyebrow raise came from the other woman. “Decent?”

Emily looked down with a small blush and mumbled. “I could recite the numbers of pi.”

“Oh my god. Don’t tell me I’m on another date with Spence,” she jokingly groaned and laughed.

Emily scoffed, followed by a pout. “I don’t know if I should be offended by that statement.”

“No, no,” JJ’s giggles began to subside and she faced Emily. “I love you for you.” She paused before saying with an affectionate grin, “My crazy hot nerd.”

Emily raised an eyebrow at her and scooted closer to JJ. She needed to bring her confidence back for a moment. “Can any other nerd do this?”

She softly pressed her lips against JJ’s, tracing her tongue over the blonde’s bottom lip and tilting her head. After about five more seconds, Emily felt her shiver and heard a light gasp, so she pulled away with a smirk, watching JJ blindly chase after her mouth.

“That was mean,” JJ pouted.

Emily smiled. “I love you, too. Anyways, let’s go back to you,” she held her hand and ran her thumb over her knuckles.

“What do you want to hear?”

Emily let out an exhale as she thought about what she wanted to ask her. "Have you ever done anything rebellious when you were younger? Gone behind your parents' backs?" she asked with a smirk.

JJ leaned back on her palms and sighed. "Depends on how you look at it," she answered honestly.

"What does that mean?"

"Well, I grew up in a small town, so word spreads around fast. I used to sneak out of the house. My mom barely cared enough to notice, so I did that pretty often," JJ said and her lips formed a tight line for a second. "I'd drive around, blasting Rage Against The Machine or Foo Fighters through the speakers. I don't know… just something about having a sense of freedom and the rush I get whenever I'm on the road." She chuckled before blushing, "I think I developed a bad habit of speeding over time."

Emily gave an amused chuckle. "My little rebel." She imagined a young JJ in an old, beat-up convertible with the windows down, speeding down a highway. "You listened to rock music?"

JJ nodded. "I had a collection of CDs in my car. I hid them from my mom because she thought I was listening to the devil’s music, which isn’t true. I don't think she knows I still have them.”

"I thought you were into more of the softer stuff." Emily had an amused look on her face upon learning this fact. "Seems like we both have another thing in common."

"What did you listen to?" JJ decided to turn the tables on her.

"Joan Jett, The Cure, probably Mötley Crüe,“ Emily answered with a small shrug. "It eventually calmed down sometime in college." She began to realize a small detail in her response and laughed. "Oh god, I think I just realized how old I am."

JJ laughed with her and shook her head reassuringly. "It's alright," she said and twirled a piece of Emily's grey hair in between her fingers. Leaning closer to her ear, she whispered, “I don’t know if you know this, but I have a bit of a thing for older women.”

“You do, huh?” the other woman remarked, drinking her wine. “Ok, tell me. Was it a college professor? A friend’s mom?”

Looking down, JJ shook her head and smirked. “I’m not divulging any of that information to you right now.”

Emily let out a little laugh and put her hands up in surrender. “Ok, ok. Alright. I won’t make you say, but you’re going to have to tell me eventually.”

“Moving on,” JJ exclaimed with a blush. "I told you what made me attracted to you. So, what about you?”

Emily stared into little baby blues and smiled lovingly. “Your eyes,” she said. “I could get lost in them for days. Years, even,” she softly admitted and continued staring, catching JJ’s now pink cheeks and small upward twitches at the corners of her mouth. “The way they soften when you look out for someone and how they light up when you’re happy.”

The blonde tried to form a comeback, but found herself stumbling over her words and rapidly blinking her eyes, glancing away from Emily. Emily tilted her head to the side and still smiled at the flustered woman.

She finally found the courage to speak. “Who knew Emily Prentiss was such a romantic?” she recovered with a joke.

Emily shrugged. “I try.”

JJ put her head on Emily’s shoulder and looked up at the stars again. Emily pulled away a little and shrugged off her jacket. JJ saw what she was doing and her eyes widened.

“Oh, no. Emily, you don’t have to-”

She shook her head. “I insist.” Placing the jacket over the younger woman’s shoulders, she pulled her close into her right side while leaning back on her left palm.

JJ tugged on the given clothing and let out a sigh of contentment. She chuckled, “Your romantic side is showing a lot right now, you know?”

“Hey, it’s our first date!” Emily playfully defended. “I want to make sure my girlfriend’s happy.”

JJ smiled and glanced back up. “I already am,” she whispered with almost watery eyes.

I forgot to tag lol: @jemilyisms @binariesarebullshit

#jemily #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jemily fic #criminal minds

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gotnofucks · 4 years

Text

Parts of Whole

(No images are mine, but I did edit them. If anyone knows the owners, do let me know so I can credit them)

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes, Sam x Steve (platonic)

Summary: Steve would see his OTP’s ship sail, even from across the grave.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of death (nothing graphic and not very sad), language, angst + fluff

A/N: I saw the trailer for tfatws and I just had to write this. This is also my entry for the amazingly talented @sagechanoafterdark and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork challenge (pic prompts above). Thank you for hosting this and being wonderful. The beautiful dividers are made by @firefly-graphics . Huge thanks to @the-inquisitive-hobbit for beta reading and giving me her very valuable insight.

It never felt right in his hands. It was his to wield, his to claim, and yet it never felt more foreign. The concentric red and white circles with the star embedded in the blue center glared back at him from the mirror. It had been months, but Sam had never taken this shield with him to any mission. He couldn’t.

It felt starkly cold in his hands, lifeless and materialistic. It was Steve’s symbol of strength and hope. It used to hang on his back, warmed by his body heat. Now, it seemed like the shield only existed to remind him of Steve’s absence. This shield was made for Steve. It belonged to him, it always would. How could he ever stand where he stood? How could Sam ever be the captain that Steve was, take this shield that held more power than a crown on a head?

He put it down again, covering it with a cloth before shutting the door on it, leaning heavily against it. He missed him, he missed him like a throbbing wound that refused to heal. If only he could see the sun shining on those golden locks again, have those baby blue eyes smile at him again. What wouldn’t he give for that.

He didn’t notice he wasn’t alone until a heavy hand was on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Sam didn’t open his eyes, just let the weight of it anchor him, let it bring him back from the chaos that was his mind. The cold metal hand felt like a relief against the overwhelming burden of grief that penetrated his being whenever he touched the circular shield.

“I miss him too.” Bucky said, and Sam opened his eyes. Bucky’s eyes were blue too, slightly grey where Steve’s were green. He could see himself reflected in them and he straightened, looking away, hiding his weakness.

This mantle of Steve Rogers that he was supposed to assume, this legacy he was supposed to take forward felt like cheating. His friend, his mentor, his brother was no more. How could people just expect him to move on? But they did. It didn’t matter he was emotionally compromised, it didn’t matter he wanted to drown, like Steve nearly had at the Potomac all those years ago. The world didn’t wait to create one disaster after another. They needed Captain America then, and they needed him now. Like Fury said, trouble always sticks around.

Sam cleared his throat, making sure he was collected before looking at Bucky again.

“Everything loaded in the Quinjet?” He asked and Bucky nodded. They’ll be leaving for another mission soon, and Sam was glad he’ll have the sounds of battle to drown the war in his heart.

“Sam.” Bucky said once Sam started leaving. “Take it.”

Sam looked at Bucky over his shoulder, his gaze equal parts pain and accusation. Of everyone, Bucky shouldn’t be the one telling him this.

“I’ll meet you in the jet.” He said firmly and quickly marched to his room, shutting the door behind him. He hated coming back to the compound, the lingering memories of their fallen warriors whispering in his ears every time he was here. He preferred his little house in the woods where it was only Bucky and nature with him.

He took out his tactical gear, laying it on the bed and getting out his wings when he heard it.

“You are punishing yourself Sam.” Came his voice.

It was this moment where Sam broke, sliding down the wall and letting a few tears escape. He was gone but he never left him.

“How could you have been so selfish Steve. Why?” He asked, looking up to glare at Steve. Even dead he looked so handsome, so put together with his hands on his hips. He didn’t look like the old man they had buried a month after the battle. No. He was their Steve, their young, beautiful Steve who left them behind.

Sam didn’t know why he saw him. He didn’t know if this was a ghost or a creation of his mind. To him, it was Steve. It was Steve and it was a beautiful suffering to see him again every time he reappeared.

“I am sorry.” Steve said and knelt before Sam, looking apologetic. Sam didn’t try touching him. Not when the first hundred times his hand just went through him.

“You are? What for?” Sam asked. “For leaving behind your shield and title, for leaving me behind, or for abandoning a best friend you promised to walk till the end of the line with? What are you really sorry for Captain?”

Steve didn’t answer, he never did. He let Sam take out his hurt and anger, and Sam cried. In the privacy of his walls, he cried. He was so tired of pretending to be strong, to be happy. He hid behind his jokes and smiles, fooled the world which was so ready to move on while Sam was buried somewhere with Steve in the cemetery, half dead, half alive.

“I am sorry Sam, for everything.” Steve insisted. “But you need to stop punishing yourself for mistakes you never made. You can’t live this way.”

Sam snorted a laugh for even in death Steve was a humanitarian bastard. He didn’t come back to haunt his enemies; oh no the centenarian came back to help his friends. Why didn’t people see that he could never be Steve? That Sam Wilson can never, won’t ever be the Captain that Steven Rogers was.

“I hate you so much Steve, I really do.” Sam whispered, wiping his nose and getting up. Steve watched him getting changed, no barriers of shame between them from that side of the grave.

“You always said that. I have never heard a ‘I love you’ more pronounced than I do in your hate.” Steve commented with a soft smile, it widened when Sam gave him a half-hearted glare. It was amazing how they could go from having a painful conversation to joking, but that was how it worked with Steve. He knew Sam, he knew everything that made him laugh and made him smile.

“What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have a tea party with Gandhi or some other do-gooder like you in the afterlife?” Sam grumbled, tightening the belt in his suit and attaching his wings to it. Steve chuckled, sitting on the chair and watching Sam with a relaxed smile.

“They are too uptight for me. Mother Teresa tried to adopt me the other day” Steve said, and Sam laughed. His wings were the colours of American Flag, a new change. He grabbed his weapons and fixed Steve with a look, hating and loving him for being so him.

“I’ll see you after the mission?” He asked tentatively. He would never admit it, but he feared one day Steve would disappear again. It was crazy, it was not normal to see dead people, but Sam would rather have a shadow of Steve than just a memory.

“I’ll be here as long as you need me Sam. Always.” Steve said, a sad smile on his face when he saw Sam leaving without the shield.

Sharon greeted him in the jet, talking to Bucky and the other agents over the blueprint spread before them. Sam nodded his hello, snatching the half empty pack of Cheetos from Bucky’s hand and munching on it.

“So now you want to steal the show and my food. You’re such a dick Wilson.” Bucky said, poking Sam in his shoulder and Sam poked his tongue out at him, a gap-toothed smile on his face. Their previous somber interaction would not be mentioned, filed again like so many inside the neglected corner of their minds.

“Bitch, I paid for grocery this month. This is technically mine.” Sam replied, making Bucky scowl. Sam knew there was a 70-30 chance he’ll find his bed crawling with centipedes when they got back home.

“Charming, boys.” Sharon remarked rolling her eye. “What are you guys doing for Christmas? Must be nice to have a holiday.”

Bucky shrugged, sharing a look with Sam. It was their first Christmas without Steve, a 6 feet 2-inch void always between them.

“Nothing special. Stay home, watch movies, eat a lot.” Bucky said. A lot remained unsaid, but they rarely needed words to communicate anymore. Sam bumped his shoulder in his, offering him some Cheetos to munch while he silently grieved.

“Well, I’ll leave my address here for you to deliver your presents to me.” Sharon joked and Sam laughed softly, mentally making a note to get her something.

“Alright then, and I’ll just casually remark that my phone and laptop are both in serious need for an upgrade. Just saying.” Sam said. “Hey Buck, what are you going to gift me?”

Bucky crumpled the empty chips packet before sending Sam an amused glare, flipping him off.

“A ball gag, so that I can hear something other than your stupid voice.” He snarked.

“Damn dude, at least ask me out for dinner before getting kinky.” Sam winked and Bucky swelled with indignation, pointing an accusing metal finger at Sam.

“I cook dinner 3 times a week you bastard, and I don’t even burn it!” He protested making Sam laugh louder than ever. He loved making Bucky mad, teasing him into an incensed rage that usually ended in a pillow fight or sometimes with Sam’s head in a headlock.

They straightened as they saw the incredulous looks on the new agents’ faces, baby agents as Bucky liked to call them. It was times like these, when both the battle-hardened veterans missed their lost teammates, the inside jokes that were shot around with as much precision as bullets and arrows on the battlefield.

They got to work again, discussing the mission and its details with the other agents. Sam would run point on scaling the territory and fly down to the enemy base with two agents while Bucky would guide him from up here and take out potential threats. They just needed to secure a technological innovation and it didn’t seem too like much work. As Sam poured over the briefing, his eyes subconsciously went over to Bucky who was fiddling with the equipment, making sure everything was in working condition.

If someone had told him a few years ago that Bucky would become his anchor, his solace in his darkest hours, Sam would have punched them in the face. But as it happened, they came to lean on each other, the only unchanged part of their older lives, the only person who made each feel that were still real, still alive. They were still annoyed by each other, but the arguments were more of a routine than an actual expression of resentment.

He didn’t realize he was staring until someone deliberately coughed behind him.

“He is so pretty, isn’t he?” Steve asked, though it was a rhetorical question. Bucky Barnes was a beauty, from his blue grey eyes to the new golden streaks running through his new arm. Sam tried not to notice the way Bucky’s armor clung to his muscles, his face looking almost boyish as he forgot the world and focused on his task.

“I thought you said I’ll see you after the mission.” Sam muttered, taking care that no one noticed him talking to air. He hurriedly looked away from Bucky when their eyes met, a heat rising in his cheeks that made Steve chuckle.

“I said I’ll be there when you need me. And it seems like you do.” Steve commented. He took the seat next to Sam, so near that Sam swore he could feel the heat emanating from his body.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Sam snapped, the smug look on Steve’s face making him wish he could touch him if only to be able to punch him. Stupid blonde best friends with perfect teeth and beautiful smiles and an ass that looked just as round after being dead.

“Oh, I think you do.” Steve said, shifting his gaze to Bucky. “I liked his hair longer but the shorter is going well with the new arm. Don’t you think?”

Despite himself Sam found himself nodding, admiring Bucky as he’d done a thousand times before. He liked his longer hair too, but without them falling in his face, he could see him better. And the arm. The new arm that gave Sam tingles in the most delicious ways, it had him flustered for three whole weeks after Bucky first showed up with it on him.

He didn’t know when it started, but Bucky had somehow become the most beautiful person to Sam. From the way he would make him the perfect mug of coffee to their little kitchen garden they started to keep themselves busy, he loved everything about him. Those moments where he would sense the turmoil inside Sam and silently slip his hands in Sam’s to assure him that he was there, these little moments endeared him even more.

Sam had lost count of how many times Bucky and he had woken up on the couch, sharing a blanket, both silently afraid to sleep alone. He had forgotten how many times he had spent kneeling at Bucky’s bedside, coaxing him out from a nightmare. Every moment spent in each other’s company, laughing, joking, mourning together, it brought them together in a way Sam had never imagined before.

“Tell him” Steve said, a wistful look on his face as he looked at his best friend. “He feels the same. I know.”

Sam shook his head, tearing his eyes away from Bucky with reluctance. He’d already lost so much, he wouldn’t lose Bucky too. Not because he has a minor, very minor teensy tiny crush on him.

“Man, shut the hell up.” He snapped.

“Who’re you talking to?” Bucky called out from across the jet and Sam’s head snapped up, mouth parting a little before he mumbled out a ‘no one’ and focused on the papers in his hand. Sometimes he felt guilty for keeping Steve a secret, for keeping Bucky away from his best friend. He knew Bucky cried into his pillow at nights, he knew because he’d held him then, tried his best to fill the cracks that appeared in the walls of Bucky’s heart as well as his own.

But then, Steve chose to come to him. Chose to talk to Sam. And he was afraid that telling anyone would disturb this magic, whatever this was. That he would once again have to bury Steve. So, he kept quiet. He buried this secret in the deep recesses of his mind, the initial worry of insanity long forgotten in favor of seeing his friend again.

“Do you even have a plan?” Bucky questioned, watching him prepare for the jump. Sam had a job for every agent accompanying him, but the idiot had not outlined anything for himself.

“I do.” Sam said, and when Bucky looked unconvinced, he lightly punched his shoulder. “You’re my plan, my backup. I scream, jump down and get my ass back up.”

Saying this, Sam jumped, the exasperated look on Bucky’s face imprinted behind his eyelids as his wings flared out and he floated.

Everything that could have gone wrong on this mission did, and Bucky was hysterical even before Sam’s call for backup came. He was going to kick Nick Fury’s ass, but before that he was going to bring his friend back in one-piece and chew him out for giving him a heart attack.

Sam’s wings took most of the weight of the fall, so he came back with a sprained ankle and bruises. Bucky was getting increasingly irritated when they came back home, their little secluded spot in the woods welcoming them with the smell of pine and wild grass.

“It’s not my fault Fury gave us shitty intel.” Sam groaned, “You can stop being salty now.”

Bucky remained quiet, the silent treatment going for almost the third day in row and Sam was at his wits end. It was stupid and ridiculous because Bucky almost always pulled the stupidest moves in the field, like stopping a bomb with his hand or listening to the villain’s evil monologue.

Steve was grinning as he leaned against the edge of the table, and with every suggestive wink he gave Sam, the new Captain America resisted the urge to throw a vase at him.

“He cares so much that he’s speechless.” Steve commented and Sam flipped him off. Dickhead has been giving running commentary of the thick tension in the air since they came back, and Sam was on the verge of calling for an exorcism.

“Why do you do that?” Bucky asked suddenly and Sam was so glad to hear him talk again it took him a while to understand the question.

“What?”

“This thing, looking somewhere and talking to yourself, or – I don’t know, you keep being weird.”

“You’re the one with the cyborg brain and arm and I’m weird” Sam tried deflecting. Bucky frowned, coming closer to sit near Sam, leaving abandoned Christmas decorations scattered around them. Clint had delivered it for them but neither had the heart to put them up.

“Sam.” Bucky deadpanned, and Sam sighed, resting his head back and avoiding eye contact. He looked at Steve who was still smiling, his beautiful face like a slap on the face and caress on the head at the same time.

It was more difficult than one would assume to explain. Why did Sam see Steve, and why did only Sam see Steve? Was it a hallucination, or his spirit? Would Steve go away if Sam confided in Bucky? Would Bucky be mad he didn’t tell him? There were so many questions, so many doubts, and yet as Sam looked into Bucky’s eyes, shining like sapphires, he couldn’t keep it to himself.

“Its…Its Steve.” He said, looking down and playing with the soft lint on his blanket. He didn’t hear Bucky say anything but moments later a metal hand gripped his, stopping its nervous movements.

“Steve?”

Sam gulped, the coolness of Bucky’s hand in his warming his heart, swelling it with hope and an emotion Sam was too afraid to acknowledge.

“Steve, he – he talks to me.” Sam confessed and tentatively looked at Bucky whose eyes were brimming with emotion. He expected him to call him crazy, or to get mad, but what he did not expect was Bucky to shift closer and take Sam’s other hand in his too.

“He talks to me as well.” Bucky said. Sam was breathless, both by the slight smell of cinnamon that came from Bucky and the way Bucky came even closer, close enough that he could count the flecks in his eyes.

“He does?” Sam asked and Bucky nodded.

“I don’t know how he does it with you, but whenever I need him, miss him, I feel him speak to me from here.” With this Bucky placed one of Sam’s hand on his chest, the beating heart under thumping strongly. Unconsciously, Sam’s hand caressed Bucky’s chest, mapped its muscles and the jagged scars that bulged under his left shoulder.

“I see him.” Sam admitted, unable to look away from Bucky. “I can see him”

Tears blurred his vision until they dropped on his cheeks, sliding down, and forging a river down, leaving a trail of hurt, betrayal, and loss in their wake. Bucky’s hand came up to wipe them away, staying on Sam’s cheek, playing with the soft hair on his chin.

“I see him too. In you.” Bucky said and they didn’t know who moved first, but their foreheads were touching and then their lips met in a chaste, hesitant kiss. Sam melted into his touch, molding himself to fall into Bucky’s larger frame, his arms circling his waist and pulling him closer. They kissed as if they had walked a hundred miles just to kiss each other, as if they had saved every last breath just to live this moment.

“I – I, Buck –” Sam began but Bucky shushed him, pulling him into another soul-searching kiss before pulling away.

“I know.” He murmured.

As Sam relaxed in Bucky’s warm embrace, lost himself in the blues of Bucky’s eyes, he noticed Steve from the corner of his eyes. There was sadness on his face, the pain of a goodbye in the creases around his eyes. But when he smiled, he smiled with genuine love and happiness. The two parts of his soul he’d left behind seemed to have found themselves, and with them Steve felt himself complete.

“Till the end of the line pals.” He whispered.

Sam never saw Steve again.

Their Christmas was not very festive in terms of decoration. There was still too much pain, too much suffering in their hearts. Steve and Nat’s pictures beamed at them from the walls, and Sam sent Pepper the confirmation that they’ll come over for New Years.

It was a beautiful thing about human nature, about how one rises from the ashes to become stronger. Sam and Bucky lost someone, but they found each other. In the shared grieve of their hearts, they discovered the love long buried in there, eagerly waiting to be spread and shared.

They stayed warm under the blanket, wearing oversized sweaters that they wouldn’t be caught dead wearing outside. The sweaters may or may not have been Steve's; the soldiers mutually decided to hold Steve close in this way. Sam’s heart was tripled in size, as his head rested in the crook of Bucky’s neck, the smell of chocolate and cinnamon melting together to make a little world of their own. Sam wondered if he would mind growing out his hair again.

“So, what did you get me?” Sam asked, knowing he wouldn’t mind if Bucky did get him that ball gag. Part of him almost hoping for it.

“How rude Wilson, here I’ve given you all of myself and you still thirst for more.” Bucky mocked and Sam tackled him into a hug, peppering kisses all over his face.

“Bitch, you’re lucky I lo-” Sam cut himself off, suddenly shy. The smirk on Bucky’s face melted into a smile, a hungry look in his eyes.

“Say it” Bucky ordered. And Sam did. The Captain obeyed his Sergeant without hesitation.

“I love you. I love you so freaking much! I got us the cheesiest gifts.” Sam said in excitement. He pulled away long enough to grab his gift from under the bed, giving it to Bucky to open. He watched with his bottom lip between his teeth as Bucky opened the box to pull out two chains, each dangling with a rectangular pendant.

Dog tags.

Their dog tags. Bucky raised his eyes to Sam’s, fisting his hand in Sam’s t-shirt to pull him closer into a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth and moans, hips grinding as passion merged with love and emotion.

“I love you!” Bucky growled and kissed Sam again. “And I got you chocolates that look like dicks. I didn’t know this would happen between us when I bought them, and I was going to give you a hint with them.”

Sam’s laughter echoed around their small house, the dopey smile on his face remaining intact as they ate candy and burnt sparklers into the night. In the colourful light that played on their faces, they held hands together, filling the void that was there with the warmth of each other.

“We can use the shield as a sleigh until you’re comfortable using it as a weapon.” Bucky mused and Sam smiled into his neck, thinking of a certain blond asshole who may have gone away, but will never be lost.

Permanent Taglist: @what-is-your-wish @shooting-star-love @stanmysoul @sweeterthanthis @scentedsongrebel @muralskins @rayofdawnworld @donutloverxo @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @angrythingstarlight @rockyrogers @slothspaghettiwrites @nerdygirl8203

CE & Steve : @littlegasps @bluemusickid @harrysthiccthighss @abeyyaaar @slytherinandoutasgard @empath-bunny

SebStan & Bucky : @sebastiansthot @its-izzys @harrysthiccthighss @empath-bunny

For this fic : @barnesandco

#ssholidaychallenge #sambucky #sam x bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes #sam x steve #tfatws #fluff

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reidecorating · 4 years

Text

the bau team and their star signs based on science

hotch: clearly an aries. this is not up for debate and i don't take criticism. natural born and excellent leader? maybe. but bossy boots because he is just a bossy boss man who probably sleeps in a suit or those pyjamas that have suit graphics on them? most definitely. when he speaks, his voice sounds like it’s coming out in all lower case, when he yells, it’s all caps. angery. down to throw hands at anything in his immediate line of vision probably. will exterminate you like a roach if you mess with someone he cares about. don't break the rules or my boss will kill me 😡 to you're breaking the rules under MY supervision, that way my boss will kill US 🥰. probably microwaves food a lot. type of dad to say no to getting a dog, then two months later get matching christmas costumes with said dog. never stops working because he is an absolute UNIT built like the circuit of one of those infinity pools in bali. could use another sabbatical.

rossi: i saw his birth certificate and the rumours are true, he’s a november sagittarius. two wives away from being a modern day king henry the eighth. it’s rossi’s world and we’re all just living in it. he is a prophet. his third eye has been opened and he ascended to the seventh dimension at the age of 24. when he takes leave, the only way to contact him is through a ouija board in latin or maybe greek depending on the position of the sun. he will only die when he chooses to die but will dissolve at the words ‘what are we?’. the major arteries in his body are just long pieces of macaroni. definitely has hooked up with one person from every state the jet has landed in. no filter between his brain and mouth, will destroy your self confidence intentionally. uses abbreviations when texting. liberal - because of the experimenting back in college. probably friends with your mum on facebook.

prentiss: imagine her being anything but an air sign. you can't because she's clearly an aquarius?? work comes first (first equal with her girlfriend). if you tell her to do something she simply won't do it, especially if it was something she was just about to do. she once came home from a run with her mother in the summer and her mother politely suggested that she should drink some water. emily, an anarchist, did not drink water and was hospitalised for heatstroke in due course of proving her point of nonconformity. has been to jail. sucks on candy canes and makes them pointy because christmas is one of her least favourite days. on probation. no, i really like him *deletes his number*. maybe moves to iceland to become a sheep herder to avoid having to ever see anyone she has romantically affiliated with ever again. actually quite the jester, joke levels exceed 4000, but can make you laugh and cry in the span of approximately the length of a short youtube ad. the antichrist.

morgan: has at some point caused someone to question their sexuality. am i really a straight man? do i really only like women? - direct quotes from anyone who has seen him. if that doesn't scream libra i don't know what does. i’m trying to refrain from using the words ‘hot’, ‘sex god’, ‘rail me’. the kinda guy who will hold open a door for you, but also have no problem kicking one down for you. has never ditched class before. momma’s boy. tries to make his pecs move in the mirror. he KNOWS he’s hot okay??? but THEN its not just that because people are like ‘oh he's attractive’ but then they find out he’s RESPECTFUL, and INTELLIGENT and COMPASSIONATE and then that awkward moment when you just DIE because he is not flawed??? it’s like he’s a lucid dream??? probably secretly is really good at baking some obscure european good. uses colognes that have really manly man sounding names for instance, ‘Man Musk’, ‘Mystical Muscles’, ‘Beards and Buttercream’.

garcia: the epitome of a female pisces. a baddie™. definitely owns a pair of those really skinny sunglasses that influencers wear and looks like god herself while in them. spirals from being the momma bear to the wine-aunt. she will care about you so hard but if that's not reciprocated, will hack into your my eyes only and fax those pictures to every machine she can connect to. accidentally has flirted her way into at least 19 relationships. really good at writing fan fiction??? like - seriously good. knows 4 different synonyms for the word “member” iykyk. researches things the people she loves most enjoy, so when she talks to them she can have more detailed conversations. catches feelings for people who are definitely not good for her. sometimes just takes off her glasses because she's tired of, well... seeing. hand makes cute lil earrings for her friends. a master at fireboy and watergirl and will never play with anyone else because ‘another player just slows you down, i can do it myself in half the time’. THAT FRIEND WHO WILL WAIT FOR YOU TO TIE YOUR LACES.

jj: virgo. she was definitely that girl who had notes with pretty titles and colour coded highlighters in school. also did extracurriculars in the weekends so she’d have to be picked up from sleepovers early to go to soccer games. when she takes the time to learn something she learns it well and perfects any craft handed to her because anything less than 100% is failure in her eyes. gets annoyed when other people cry for too long probably. will judge you. so much. silently. especially if you cry. don't make her mad because she has caused civil unrest in 13 continents. live, laugh, love signs in her kitchen. security footage surfaced in 2007 of her roundhouse kicking a middle aged man, in the junk food aisle of a trader joe’s, after he took the last re-stocked bag of cheetos. has a ‘mom first, agent second’ mug that garcia got her. likes family walks which will most likely be planned out meticulously, involving a detailed itinerary of the day i.e. Henry’s toilet break, 10AM

reid: he despises star signs and anyone who gives them any thought because “where is the SCIENCE?” this bitch is a scorpio. definitely only knows his sun sign. so intense! have you seen the way he looks at things?? the way he stares??? the way he analyses dead bodies??? the way he loves??? ridiculously put together to everyone around him but emotionally life is soup and he is fork. kinky. breaks off bananas little by little with his hands before eating each piece individually because eating them normally is too sensual and he’s paranoid morgan might see him doing it and take a picture. wants the kind of love he reads about. has a superiority complex about having a superiority complex. keeps a straight face while saying literally anything so you cannot tell if he’s being serious or not like one day he’ll just be like “yeah i killed a man with an axe once to enable myself to more easily empathise with future unsubs who potentially work as lumberjacks or have a history of logging. it’s called method axing,” and then leave the room to draw circles on maps or something. believes that parallel parking should work, in theory, but never seems to work for him in practice.

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skinks · 5 years

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had the unfortunate experience recently of my friend having sex in the same room as me while she thought i was asleep after a night out and i cant stop imagining reddie doing that or late twenties living in an apartment with other losers and having really loud sex when they thought no one else was home while bev just whisper scream/laughs the entire time and when they finally finish and come out bill just shouts “RICHIE TOZIER FUUUUCKS” extra points if this is how they find out theyre together

oh my GOD well first off big giant rip to you that you had to hear your friend fuccin

but holy shit what if reddie room with some of the others, and everyone always hangs out at their apartment. They have separate bedrooms of course, but they’re always sneaking into each other’s rooms in the middle of the night and then back out again before Mike or Bev wake up. Like a) they want to keep this thing as just Theirs while it’s still so raw and big and b) they’re worried about messing up the Loser dynamic. Not that it would, not seriously or for long, they’re just idiots

The rest of the gang come home and eat takeout and drink until they’re all near-comatose on the floor — nobody even thought to turn on the main light after the movie’s brightness faded into VHS static and eventually a blank screen, so they’re all lying whispering in the sleepy darkness when the apartment door bangs open and Richie and Eddie come stumbling through it. They all know Eddie picks Richie up from his bartending shifts across town, that’s why they’d headed to their place first after the power went out at Stan’s, they knew the TV would be free of PlayStation tournaments and the couch would be free of pushy limbs and Cheeto dust. But they didn’t know about this. The flypaper yellow light from the hallway flickers over Richie and Eddie’s unmistakable shapes and they are making out, they are making out hard.

Like, late night Skinemax makeouts.

Like, Eddie bending Richie backwards to get at his mouth and his hips simultaneously, Richie whining and pulling Eddie’s hair type makeouts.

The others lie there, not knowing what to do because like, hadn’t Richie been teasing Eddie just last week about the hot chick who came into the Blockbuster where Eddie works who’d given him that hickey? And Eddie had insisted it was just a rash? They’re all too stunned to say anything to alert the doofuses to their presence, and they’re talking anyway. Well, gasping between wet, gross-sounding kisses. They can hear Eddie’s voice low and affronted, like he doesn’t wanna wake anyone up but he still needs Richie to know how aggrieved he is.

“Do you have—any idea what your fuckin’ shoulders look like in that shirt when you play pool?”

Something clatters, they knock something over. “No,” Richie mumbles, and he sounds like he’s drunk, but he never drinks when he has shifts at the bar. Someone kicks the door shut. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“You look—Christ, Rich, you make me so fucking hard c’mon—you look like someone who got dressed in the fucking dark.”

Laughter from both of them. Happy and hot, and the other five stare at each other from their dark hidey-floor positions. “S’not what you said after Bev’s birthday,” Richie croons. “Remember?”

“Shut up, someone’s gonna hear—”

“Had to fucking gag you with this shirt.”

Bev’s shoulders shake, and she mouths my birthday??? to Ben from behind her muffling hand. Her birthday was months ago. The boys are writhing closer to Richie’s room like something dark and tangled and many-limbed at the back of an aquarium, and Eddie’s teakettle laughter bubbles through his hisses. “I’ll give you something to gag on.”

“Promise?”

A bang, the kind of bang a wall makes when a back collides with it. Richie moans, then, and Bill is wild-eyed as he goes to stand for the lightswitch, but the others all dogpile him before he gets any further.

“You betcha, hotshot. Gonna gag you so good you won’t be able to talk for a week.”

“Nah, you’d m-miss it,” Richie pants.

The bedroom door clicks shut, and they can’t hear Eddie’s murmured response but the tone, the tone is what has them all shushing each other, like people witnessing a natural wonder. Eddie doesn’t hook up or date, they all know his mother’s insidious hooks still hold Eddie back from acknowledging he’s a sexual being at all, regardless of the fact they’re all twenty-three years old. Through that thin piece of wood though, Eddie sounds downright flirtatious. Soft and sly and gritty-salted-sweet, like when you let a mouthful of cotton candy dissolve into a tough little sugarlump on your tongue, the kind that can still break teeth. The Losers gawk at each other and come to the same exact realization at the same exact time; this is serious. Richie only laughs like that when he feels like he’s got nothing to prove, no one to impress. There’s a thump. Then the creaking twang of Richie’s shitty bed frame, and the distinct, loopy peal of Richie’s happy voice, loud even through the door.

“Jesus shit, you look—Eds, you look like someone who’s gonna get fucked in the dark.” Then another thump, more laughter.

They get right down to it. Mike and Bev nudge each other and clamp down on their giggles so hard the effort makes them weep, they’ve been sharing an apartment with these horny dumbasses for two years and haven’t been any the wiser. How, they don’t know, when the noises are so loud and evocative as to make anyone blush, all arrhythmic creaking and punched out ah-ah-hah-ahs and swearing and wet suction and filthy breathless conversation and at one point, someone blowing a definite raspberry. Ben sits with a small smile on his face and his hands over his ears, more out of respectful politeness than anything like distaste, and Stan starts gathering up the bowls of popcorn and chips like nothing’s out of the ordinary. The racket pitches in intensity. Bill lies on the floor, checking his watch with increasing disbelief. They’re all too drunk to go home, they’re stuck.

Eventually the sex crests, and crests, and crests like a giant wave that turns white and frothing and powerful well before it finally slams ashore and lessens. They hear the muffled wandering whimpers of someone who sounds a lot like Eddie feeling something too good for almost too long, like the time they took him to a monster milkshake place for his first birthday since discovering he wasn’t lactose intolerant, where he guzzled til he was pink and groaning. And then it finally gets quiet. There’s some more gentle murmuring, and hearing that feels more invasive than knowing what Richie sounds like when he comes.

A few more minutes pass, and the others gather themselves up to lie in wait on the couch and the two threadbare armchairs Richie and Eddie always fight over, even though they’re exactly the same. Bev managed to dig out some leftover party-poppers and confetti from the Congrats On The NPR Guest Spot party they threw for Mike last month (they like parties, ok) and Stan very studiously hits play on the shitty little boom box when the bedroom door swings open. It’s The Bad Touch, by the Bloodhound Gang. Nothing but mammals, bay-bee.

Richie hobbles out in nothing but briefs and bruises, bow-kneed with his mouth kiss-swollen. “No, I’m pretty sure we still have some chicken pasanda in the fridge from Saturday, man,” he says over his shoulder, “I’m just gonna—oh shit.”

His limbs startle everywhere like a frightened giraffe at the cheering toots of party horns, and at Bill’s best-straight-bro cameraderie holler of “Richie Tozier fucks! You bet your fur he does, holy shit!”

“Uh,” Richie laughs, and rakes a hand through his hair, which already looks like he’s been dragged through a hedge backwards. “Uh, hey guys?”

Then Eddie appears from behind him, sheened in sweat and drowning in Richie’s hideous boxing-kangaroo patterned shirt. He hooks his arm up around Richie’s shoulders, and obviously orgasms do wonders for disintegrating that pesky build-up of inhibition, because he beams drunkenly at them all and says, “Actually, Eddie Kaspbrak fucks.”

#reddie #someone: voyeurism—#me: [red laserbeam eyes] did someone say voyeurism #ficlet

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Sugar and Coffee [9]

Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 9.5 OR Chapter 10

➜ Words: 3.9k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

➜ Warnings: Heavy mentions of sexual themes.

cr.

Fuck romance. That shit is overrated anyway. Everywhere you look, there’s love here and there — in television shows, movies, advertisements, short stories, novels. But it hits you like a train, like a light switch that finally turned on in your head, you don’t need love to be happy. You don’t need someone else. You’re perfectly content with being by yourself for the rest of your life. You’ll never have to shackle yourself down or compromise again. It’s the ultimate freedom. “I approve this message.” Aeri nods several times. “Right?!” You wipe away the cheeto dust that’s accidentally sprinkled on the pouch you call your stomach. Your sweater’s ridden up as you’re slumped over her bed. “Like do people even realize that almost half of marriages end in divorce?” “Exactly.” “Love? It’s all trash feelings. It’s a distraction. Why should I have to work hard for years and then throw away my career and ambition to stay at home and have kids and then eventually be divorced and have to fight over custody?” There’s a bitter taste in your mouth and you shake your head. “Men ain’t shit.” “Hallelujah.” You don’t believe in love anymore, not when you’ve come to realize that you’ve been brainwashed for so long. Now, you were enlightened. But you just can’t believe you were so blinded and stupid in the first place. You were crying over a guy who wasn’t worth shit. “But where are you going?” Aeri is dressed up in a summer outfit despite it being the end of February and still frigid outside. She looks at herself in the mirror, fixes her lipstick and then whirls around. “Oh, I’m just...meeting up with Hoseok.” “You’re going on a date?” A blush creeps up on her cheeks. “N-No. W-Well...he didn’t really call it that.” “Oh my god, all my friends are leaving to the dark side.” “Just for a little, love.” She winks at you and you can’t hate her when she’s so evidently excited. Aeri grabs her bag and smiles. “Well I shouldn’t make him wait. How do I look?” “If Jung doesn’t cream himself, he doesn’t deserve you.” The tips of her ears turn scarlet and she throws a pillow at you, making you laugh. You watch Aeri leave and then the silence settles. You sigh and get up to go to your only friend left. Your fist pounds on his door for a good second until it opens. “Jesus, try not to break it down, will you?” “Hey, Yoongi,” you greet the person on the worn sofa, brushing past Jungkook. “Where’s the other guys?” “Well, unlike you two, people actually have their own lives,” Jungkook mutters, flopping down to where his butt’s been imprinted into the couch seat and he resumes his game. “Taehyung and Jimin are in class like good students,” Yoongi says, “and I’m only here cause Hope’s ditched me for a lame date apparently.” “Same.” “Is my room a refugee camp?” Jungkook glances over with his brow cocked. “Am I everyone’s second choice?” “Get used to it,” Yoongi mutters, watching Jungkook play. In the meanwhile, you walk over to Jungkook’s bed that’s sloppily made with the covers wrinkled, but at least the effort shows. You’re about to flop down and maybe roll over to take a nap, but then you pause, gawking at his collection of IU merchandise. You’ve seen it before, but you realize you’ve never gotten a good look. There are posters of her from when she debuted in 2008 until the most recent comeback lining the corner of his wall like a small shrine. And over his bed is a shelf of albums and her lightstick. “Wow, you have a lot of her stuff. Must’ve costed a fortune.” It occurs to you that he even had a substantial amount of IU things in his room at his parent’s home — little things that you didn’t pay mind to at the time — a sweater that was on a hook, more albums, some DVD sets, posters of her in her dramas. Your comment seems to trigger a reaction from him. Jungkook pauses the game and those bambi eyes of his are rounded. He’s defensive. “What?” “He’s got a massive hard on for her,” Yoongi snickers. “Don’t talk about Jieun like that.” You steal a glimpse of Jungkook, rather puzzled over his hobby. You just never expected Jeon Jungkook to have an idol, or rather, celebrity crush. “Why do you like her so much?” He looks like he doesn’t even know where to start. “She’s just so...talented.” “Oh, here we go again.” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” Jungkook spits and then turns to answer your question seriously. “Her voice is beautiful, she’s good at singing, she can play guitar, and she’s really cute. She produces a lot of her music too. And her personality is great. She’s kind and funny. She donates a lot and stuff like that.” Jungkook shrugs. “I just like her.” “Yeah I get it.” You nod while staring into IU’s eyes. “She’s pretty hot and cute. I’d do her if given the chance.” His big nose wrinkles. “You act like you don’t have any celebrity crushes either.” “True. If Song Joongki walked through the door right now, I would throw myself at his feet and he could do whatever he wants with me. He’s so handsome and such a sweet guy.” You sigh wistfully, wishing you had someone like that. “Do you have any celebrity crushes, Yoongi?” “What’s her face from the Notebook.” “Rachel McAdams?” “Yeah, her.” “Okay, I can see that. Jungkook!” “What?” “Would you smash or pass Rachel McAdams?” He wrinkles his nose again. “Smash, I guess.” “You guess.” A scoff comes from your throat. “What? You think you’re too good for her?” “No. She’s just okay.” “You’re wrong,” Yoongi deadpans, making you laugh. You ask— “Okay, how about Sana from Twice? Smash or pass.” “Smash.” — “Pass.” Both you and Yoongi look at him with brows raised and you audibly gasp. “Dude, even I would smash her. Why would you pass? She’s cute and hot. Isn’t that your type?” “No.” Jungkook snorts. “You don’t know my type.” “Okay, so who would you smash then?” “I don’t know. Maybe Gong Hyo Jin. That main girl from Master’s Sun.” “Seriously?” Jungkook glances over. “Why?” “No, she’s pretty and really girl-next-door-ish. She’s just older, like twenty one years older than us.” “Yeah, well, she’s good at what she does. She’s a good actress.” Apparently being good at what they do is enough for Jungkook to want to bang them. It’s a juvenile game, but a fun one. And it’s particularly interesting to hear both Yoongi and Jungkook’s responses. They’re unpredictable, unlike Taehyung who you’re sure would say yes to anything as long as it breathed, and Jimin who would be too shy to answer. “How about people we know? Byun Baekhyun.” “No.” Yoongi answers right away. “He’s so loud, he gives me a headache.” “If you find him annoying, it makes for good hate sex.” “Sure. But that’s still a no.” “Okay then, who would you say yes to?” “I don’t really swing that way but if I were to give it a shot, maybe Kim Jongin, just so he can teach me how he gets the ladies.” “Word,” Jungkook mutters, concentrating on his game. “Or maybe Lee Ken,” Yoongi points out. “His face looks good enough for me to spit on.” “That’s disgusting.” Jungkook wears a distressed expression, looking at you as if to ask if you’re hearing the same things he is, but you merely laugh. “Trust me, Ken’s a screamer. Jin told me about it when they shared a room during their first year.” You don’t notice how Jungkook pauses his game at the mention of your ex. He stares at you from across the room, on the edge of his seat, but you don’t have a trace of sadness on your features. “He’ll burst your eardrums. He’s a loud dude.” “No thanks then.” Yoongi hums and bluntly considers, “Maybe Seokjin then. He’s pretty good looking. Looks spitable.” You smile softly. “He’s too nice for you, Yoongi.” You recall the faded memories with Seokjin, but they don’t make you feel so sad anymore. Your heart doesn’t ache as much. It makes you wonder if this is what it means to move on. // The cardboard box is in your lap as you study the small trinket in your hand before tossing it in. Everything that Jin ever gave to you, anything that’s associated with him, sweaters and tokens, key chains from amusement parks and stuffed animals he gave is thrown in the box or stuffed in a trash bag. “I wonder if I’ll ever regret giving this stuff away.” “Maybe, but you’ll always have new stuff and new memories and all that.” “Yeah.” You remind yourself that you’re just making space for the new memories you’ll make — maybe with Aeri, maybe with Taehyung and Yoongi, Hoseok or Jimin, or Jungkook, or just by yourself. Jungkook helps you put away the stuff, asking every once in a while if you wish to discard a certain object. You had asked for his help, afraid you would chicken out, and you promised him that in return, you would buy him a meal. It seems like you owe a lot to Jungkook these days. You donate it all before deleting all of Seokjin’s contact information on your phone. The pressed rose he once gave you on your first date and the first note he ever passed you in class is thrown away too. Finally, you’ve severed your ties with Seokjin once and for all. It’s a bittersweet moment, like sugar mixed with coffee. Not quite sweet but not quite bitter. The room seems emptier, but it’s welcoming. “So where are you going to treat me?” Suddenly, a light bulb flicks on inside your brain. Your entire face lights up and Jungkook notices, shifting on his spot in discomfort. It’s never good when you have ideas. “I think I know something better we can do.” “Better than eating?” “When was the last time you ate some pussy, Jeon?” Jungkook chokes on his spit. He wheezes. And pounds his chest. Jungkook’s doe eyes look at you in horror like he’s been personally violated. “What?” You repeat the question and he makes a strangled noise like he’s absolutely disgusted talking about this with you. “Are you ten? Answer the question.” “I don’t know! Maybe like over a year ago,” he rambles in a breath, “I dated a girl named Olivia for a few months but then it didn’t end up working out, so we broke up.” You put your hand on your friend’s shoulder, squeezing securely while nodding once. “I think we're both deprived of some good pussy and cock.” “So what do you propose?” He doesn’t know where you’re going with this. “We go to a club and get ourselves some one-night stands.” “That’s a terrible idea,” Jungkook spits without even needing to think. It’s instinctive. Impulsive. Like he knows not to squeeze a lemon into his eye, to not touch his crotch area after handling chili peppers, to not take toast out with a metal fork. “Why not?” You shrug. “Some low-level commitment, no love or strings attached sex. We don’t need relationships to keep us satisfied and we don’t need to keep...you know handling it ourselves…” Your hand makes a rounded circle and you thrust back and forth obscenely, wiggling your brows, and it makes Jungkook groan. “Oh my god. Please stop.” “Listen, I’ll be the best wingwoman you’ve ever seen. I owe you, right? So I’ll find you the best fuck of life and then I’ll find my own. I see this as an absolute win-win.” “It’ll be fun,” you insist and then pout when he continues to glare. “If you’re not coming, I’ll go by myself.” “You’re not going by yourself,” Jungkook says. “Why? You can’t tell me what to do. What are you, my dad?” “Why? Because you’re an idiot. If I see you on the news, I’ll never be able to forgive myself….” You scoff and he continues. “—for being best friends with such an idiot…” “Are you coming or not, jackass?” Jungkook sighs. // It’s spontaneous. One moment he’s in your dorm room and the next blink, there are strobe lights flashing around, sweaty bodies, and deafening music. The alcohol on his tongue is certainly not enough to make him feel remotely sane. Jungkook didn’t even have enough time to drag Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok or Yoongi over. You told him that it was a two man mission and any more people would only serve as a distraction to the main goal. He’s not sure what you think that goal is. Jungkook isn’t really a one-night stand kind of guy. “Hey!” You scream in his ear above the booming beat, making him wince. Your breath is stained with that tequila. “What do you think of her?!” You point to a girl dancing on the floor. “She’s got a great ass!” He internally sighs. “Why don’t you go fuck her then?!” ��What?” Your voice strains above the music. “Go fuck her!” He points. You frown, lips lopsided. “You want to suck her?!” Jungkook’s last two brain cells are about to die. “Never mind!” “What?!” He shakes his head and then you giggle. Jungkook wonders if you’re just fucking with him, but before he can even react and perhaps punch you, you’re leaning over the bar, waving your arm towards the bartender. “Excuse me! Can we get two shots again?!” Of all the shit you make him go through, he’s hoping you don’t get drunk. He can’t carry your ass back to the dorm. His back is too precious for your idiocy. The two of you down the alcohol given to you and he shudders after. The taste is sharp and beginning to dull his senses. You can feel it too, how the world is spinning faster and that’s when you begin, clasping your hands together. “Alright!” You lean in close to talk into his ear, breath skimming against his neck. “Let’s get down to business, Jeon. Anyone caught your attention yet? How about her?” You signal to a busty girl sitting alone at the bar. She’s in a tight, red dress with her lips matching the same crimson shade. Her black hair contrasts the boldness, cascading down her back in waves. Jungkook looks and then glances at you. “Not re—Hey! Where are you going?!” You strut with drunken confidence, sliding up to the girl with plans to be the best wingwoman on this planet. “Is it always this noisy?” The girl turns her head and visibly relaxes to see another female and not a greasy dude. “Well, it’s a club. So yeah, it usually is.” “I’m just not used to it.” You sigh and take a seat on the stool. “Know any good drinks?” “Chardonnay’s pretty good,” she tells you with a friendly, open expression. “Usually wine sucks at bars, but it’s pretty good here.” “I’ll order it then,” you muse and extend your arm with a grin. “I’m Y/N.” “Hyuna.” She shakes your hand, red lips curling. “Can you do me a favour, Hyuna?” You point across the bar to Jungkook. He’s frozen. Watching you in horror like you’re trying to seduce his mom or something. You wish he’d wipe that stupid fucking expression off his face. It’s not helping. Frankly, it ruins his looks and for once he’s not in gym shorts or sweatpants. Jungkook’s dark hair is gelled back, black dress shirt and black trousers fitted to his muscular frame. It took so much nagging to get him dressed up, but it was worth it. If he didn’t look so dumb, you would be proud of your best friend. “My poor friend here really likes you, but he’s pretty shy. If you said hi, I’m pretty sure it would make his entire night.” Hyuna gazes at him and her smile only widens. “I’d be happy to help.” “Great!” You slide off the stool, strutting back. Inside your head, you are screaming for joy that you actually pulled that shit off on the first try without getting a drink thrown in your face. Maybe you should consider switching career paths. Jungkook leans in close to you when you’re in earshot distance. “What the hell are y—” “Jungkook, this is Hyuna. Hyuna, this is Jeon Jungkook.” Her hips sway as she approaches him and she extends her hand. “Hi, nice to meet you.” Jungkook shakes it with a polite smile, trying to diminish the awkwardness and attempting to be civil. In the meanwhile, Hyuna’s cat-eyes sweep him up and down, focusing on how his pants are tight around the meat of his thighs. Her perfume fills your senses. “Nice to meet you.” You stick your nose between them. “Jungkook goes to baking school, so he knows how to knead dough! He’s really good at it!” You grab his wrist, pulling it up in front of her eyes. “Look at his hands!” “Oh god, shut up.” If there was enough light in the room, you’re sure his face would be beet red. But unbeknownst to you, Jungkook’s embarrassment is second-hand. He takes his own hand back and looks at the stranger. “I’m so sorry for her behaviour. She’s obviously drunk.” “I’m not!” You’re just….happier. A little giddy. On an energy high. Hyuna giggles and looks between you both. “Are you two togethe—” “No.” Jungkook cuts her off and is truly thankful his relationship with you isn’t like that. He can barely handle you as a friend. Anything more would frankly be overwhelming. “We aren’t.” “Oh, okay, cool. I thought this was going to be a threesome situation.” Jungkook starts wheezing as you giggle. You put your hand on Jungkook’s shoulder and squeeze. “Oh no, he can’t keep up with me. Not for miles. Anyway, I’ll leave you two at it. I should probably go to the bathroom, gotta take a leak.” “Y/N.” Jungkook calls after you. “Y/N! L/N Y/N!” He shouts after you, tightening his fist and wondering if you actually have the outrageous audacity to leave him behind like this with some chick you picked up like you just went grocery shopping. But much to his dismay, you don’t even glance behind you. You dive into the sweaty bodies, disappearing from sight. He groans internally and turns back to Hyuna. She smiles at him. “So you bake?” “Yeah, well, I’m in this pastry program.” “Wow.” Her thick lashes bat. “That’s so impressive! So you can make whatever dessert you want?” “Working towards it.” He smiles meekly. “Are you, uh, here by yourself?” Jungkook has never done this before, never talked to a girl like this — but so far it’s not bad. Probably because it was her who was salvaging the conversation and lessening the stiffness. “It’s actually one of my friends’ birthday today, so we’re just out celebrating, but I lost them in the crowd.” She flashes a million watt smile. “I assume you’re just with your friend, Y/N?” “Yeah, she dragged me out here. She’s a headache. I swear she’s shaving years off of my life.” Hyuna laughs and bats his arm. She leans close and he swallows hard at the way her eyes sparkle, her lashes thick, and her cleavage is practically shoved in his face. “Want to dance?” “I don’t really…” “It’ll be fun. Trust me.” She takes his hand and drags him out on the floor. In the meanwhile, half across the club, you’re dancing to the music. It’s not until a second later that you feel someone's hands on your waist and you turn around in their arms. In dark lights, you make out a half-decent looking guy. “Shake that ass, babe.” You smile at him, looping your arms around his neck. Maybe this is how it was always supposed to be. Giving into temptation and the heat of another person’s body, not having to commit to someone else and put yourself out there. Maybe you were doing it all wrong to begin with. You don’t even know his name, but you dance with the stranger, your sweaty bodies moving against one another. You’re not sure how long it lasts, but eventually he presses his crotch to your front and offers to buy you a drink through a whisper in your ear. When you get to the bar, you don’t see Jungkook and Hyuna anymore and you wonder if he’s getting lucky in the washroom or if he’s gone completely. But you try not to dwell on what your best friend might be doing. You focus on the present moment and order a Strawberry Daiquiri. You’re sipping your drink as you talk to the guy. You don’t exactly catch his name, but it doesn’t matter. The fewer connections, the better. After all, you’re just looking for a rebound. But you’ve never done this before and in your nervousness and intoxication, you end up on a tangent. “Like it’s so easy to make better cheesecake! And there’s so many kinds of cheesecake.” “Cheesecake?” The tall blonde frowns as if he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about. “Yeah! Cheesecake! All you need is the crust, cream cheese, sugar, eggs, sour cream, vanilla extract, and all-purpose flour! My favourite is actually chocolate cheesecake in a restaurant back at home and they had chocolate wafer crumbs in the crust and it was so delicious, must have had ganache between the layers or something. I can’t remember anymore.” “Oh, cool.” The guy glances around, looking at the other people on the dance floor and the bar. When he realizes you’ve stopped talking, he directs his attention to you again. “Uh, what’s a ganache?” “Ganache? It’s just chocolate and heavy cream and you can use it as a glaze, icing, sauce, or filling for pastries. You’ve probably had it before if you’ve had chocolate cake!” “I see.” His eyes flicker down to the swell of your chest exposed by your small black number, and they linger there. “You ever tried pouring chocolate over your body?” “What?” You realize he doesn’t care about baking — he doesn’t care for what you have to say. The guy excuses himself to the bathroom and never comes back. After ten minutes of waiting, you sigh and check your phone. You stand up, ready to leave as it occurs to you one-night stands aren’t really your thing. You’re about to text Jungkook, but you catch his mop of hair on the dance floor. He’s dancing with Hyuna, her back pressed to his front. His hands are placed on the dips of her waist, grinding his front against her ass that’s pushed out. You make a face of disgust before snapping a blurry picture and sending to the group chat. But Jungkook seems to be having fun, out of breath, but still enjoying himself. You’re happy for him, glad that at least one of you is getting lucky tonight. Or rather, it was Hyuna getting lucky. Jungkook’s a great catch. You wonder why you didn’t realize it sooner. Whoever ends up with him will be fortunate.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #bts fluff #sugar and coffee #bts baking AU #jungkook baking AU #honestly I think this is a hilarious chapter #:D

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