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dat-town · 3 years ago

Text

wish you were here

Characters: Mark Lee & you

Setting: wish dragon au (and a bit of aladdin because mark even has a tiger in their garden like jasmine did. don’t ask why, just blame the regular mv), childhood best friends to lovers (at least there’s potential?)

Genre: fluff and humour

Warnings: mentions of a sick animal and a wild animal kept as a pet in a huge garden (just like jasmine’s tiger, it’s very tamed)

Summary: A magical teapot, a dragon that wants everyone to be happy and an old friendship being revived. Oh yeah, have I told you that you have 3 wishes?

Words: 6.4k

For @restlessmaknae 💕

When your mother told you you got delivery to your childhood home, you certainly did not expect this: a brown box as big as a small watermelon with your old Canadian address and MARK LEE scrabbled next to your name as another recipient but no sender. Not to mention, the first stamp on the thing was dating back to the early 2010s. Where the hell was this package for 10 years? And what would you and your old neighbour slash best friend have gotten together?

Okay, first things first:

You and this clumsy, kind of cute kid, Mark had been quite tight while growing up. You were born in the same year, only a month apart, and his family lived in the house next to yours in the suburbs of Vancouver, so it was kind of natural. You two might have been against the world kind of comrades, playing hide and seek when you were six and wondering about whether time travelling was possible through black holes at twelve. But no matter how close you used to be, you fell out of touch when Mark's family moved to the other end of the world, back to Korea, their roots when you were fourteen. You slowly forgot about him, and started university in the city, moving away from home, so nothing really reminded you of him ⎼ and your stupid, big fat crush on him that you had no courage to tell him about in middle school ⎼, nothing until this box.

You put the delivered package on your kitchen table while you make some dinner for yourself out of what you have gotten during grocery shopping earlier just before you picked up the mysterious stuff at the post office. You eye it suspiciously over your pasta, really not wrapping your mind about what it could be but instead of annoying yourself with this pointless curiosity, you put your fork down and stand up to open it. It’s a struggle at first, the box being secured with multiple adhesive tapes over the years but when you finally get rid of all that and can look inside of it, an intense feeling rushes through you… immerse disappointment.

“A teapot? For real? What were we thinking?” you furrow your brows taking the small, green and pretty old teapot into your hands. It looks like a piece of a traditional Asian set with its jade colour and dragon pattern. It couldn’t have been in a much better shape 10 years ago either seeing how wayworn it is but still, you expected something more… exciting? Something funny that might or might not give you an excuse to look up Mark Lee on the internet and message him for the sake of old times. But how lame it would be to befriend him on Facebook only to tell him that you got delivered a teapot under both your names. Hah, you would rather not embarrass yourself like that.

You shoot one last glance at the teapot before leaving it on your counter and going back to your food, you successfully forget about the whole ordeal. You carry your life on with only one small difference: Mark Lee back on your mind after long, long years.

It was just a small crush, you tell yourself, sighing as you look into the mirror, absentmindedly wondering how he’s doing. Does he think of you sometimes as well? Did he go to music college like he has always wanted? Is he happy? You wish he was even if he’s half a world away and with that thought you think it’s time to go to sleep despite the upcoming weekend days. You don’t want to mess up your sleep schedule over some boy but as soon as you pull the blanket over your chest and close your eyes, something explodes in your kitchen.

You jump out of bed faster than lightning, in slight panic over the fact that your neighbours will hate you for bothering them late at night and your landlord would kill you if you managed to blow up your microwave. But the sight that welcomes you is like no other that you imagined. The whole room is covered in thick pink glittery smoke. Like your worst Barbie nightmare.

“What the⎼” you cough, waving your hands to clear the air and once it dissolves into nothingness with its weirdly cotton candy smell, there’s a boy in the middle of it all, sitting cross legged on your kitchen counter so casually as if he owned the place. His pink-ish purple hair hangs into his eyes and he seems to find your coffee machine strangely interesting. You grab the first thing you can ⎼ a blender ⎼ and hold it up in defensive before yelling at the boy: “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my apartment?”

The stranger’s mouth pulls up in a charming smile, his eyes sparkle as he turns his attention to you, hopping off the counter. He’s all thin and long limbs, so you hate how you hate to look up at him as he walks towards you before bowing ceremoniously.

“Hello, sorry for the sudden appearance, I just couldn’t wait any longer! I’ve been stuck in that teapot waaay too long. I didn’t mean to be rude or anything. My name is Taeyong, I’m a wish dragon and you’re my new owner,” he smiles and what he says makes absolutely no sense.

“A wish dragon?” you mumble in shock, looking around to see if this is just another prank of Johnny. You wouldn’t be surprised to see him jump out from under one of the cupboards. Or maybe you just fell asleep and you’re dreaming. Yeah, that seems like a realistic scenario.

“Ah, yes! I know I don’t look like it but modern times require modern solutions. Most people freak out because of my dragon form, so human it is,” the boy who seems only a few years older than you grins as he’s chatting and you have to give it to him, he takes this role pretty seriously. “You have three wishes as my owner. You can ask for anything as long as it’s not about death or love.”

So you got yourself someone who thinks he’s basically a genie? Oh gosh, is he that drunk?

“Aha, very funny. I’m too tired for this prank, so I would appreciate it if you left the same way you came...” you point towards your window because there’s no way he came through the door. Putting down your blender because the guy looks pretty harmless despite his crazy blabbering, you move to go back to your bedroom.

“No, no, no, I can’t do that,” the boy, Taeyong as he introduced himself, appears in front of you within a second and grabs your shoulder as if he could shake some sense into you. He looks pretty desperate. “I can only get a new owner if I fulfill all wishes of yours. It was super stuffy in that box the last decade, you know.”

At that excuse you let out a laugh.

“You don’t even fit it the⎼”

“You were saying?” Taeyong is suddenly nowhere near ahead of you but instead a small creature, supposedly a dragon, in the size of your palm flies in front of your eye level. “It’s magic!”

Okay, now that sight makes you feel like it’s you who is drunk. Or worse.

“Am I dead?” you have to ask in a small, uncertain voice, trying to think back what could have happened. Maybe that explosion literally blew your apartment up? But it hurts when you pinch your arm and turning back into his human form, Taeyong wants to prove the very same thing. Not the hurting but the not dead part, obviously.

“No, you’re very much alive and a happy owner of a wish dragon. Not permanently, of course, but still,” he tells you as he drags you onto your couch in the living room. As if sitting down could help processing all this.

So you have a wish dragon in your home, a magical creature that can casually switch between its dragon and human form and he says you should wish for three things, so he could leave and you could go back to your old, boring life without magic and things that scare you to death at 11PM.

“Can I ask… why? Why me? I’m not really owner-material,” you whisper because heck yeah, you even managed to kill your cactus before. Taeyong purses his lips as he sits down, a hand at his chin.

“Well, it’s unusual indeed to have a peasant girl, no offence, as my owner but as far as I know, you and your friend asked for a sign that magic was real.”

Oh, you remember that, being so obsessed with shooting stars and other stuff like that, you two used Mark’s brother’s computer to browse the internet, trying to find evidence about all that. You were kids wanting to believe in a world beyond the one you knew. But...

“That was like 10 years ago,” you furrow your eyebrows, not getting the timing.

“Well, sorry, you weren’t put on the top of the Heaven wish list and the shipping from Shanghai to Vancouver isn’t the fastest either,” Taeyong shrugs as if it was supposed to be natural. As if that was the most unbelievable thing. Well, delivery services are sometimes a pain in the ass, that’s true but getting a wish delivered by Heaven was something you would have never thought of and it all drains down on you. Strangest realisation of your life.

“So… it’s all real,” you whisper ahead of yourself: magic, dragons and all that. You could basically see your old best friend’s I told you so smile and let out a soft chuckle. “I wish Mark could meet with you, too.”

At that the guy ahead of you claps his hands and rubs them together, creating the same purple smoke from before. You look at him alarmed.

“Your wish, my command,” Taeyong grins and lifts his hands and before you could make a sound of protest because gosh, you didn’t mean it literally, you feel the ground move under your feet and you’re falling, into the darkness but despite shutting your eyes automatically, fearing the impact of the crash, nothing comes. Only the smell of soy sauce in the air and warm sunshine on your skin… Wait, what?

Your eyelids fly open and you notice in shock that you’re not in your flat anymore, ready to sleep. Instead, you stand in the middle of a goddamn street somewhere in Korea based on the signs still in your PJ shorts and tee. Oh my gosh! You hide in an alley right away and yank the seemingly proud Taeyong with you.

“I didn’t tell you that I meant right now! I can’t meet Mark in my PJs and I need my phone and wallet to function anyways. Not to mention, I don’t speak Korean at all...” you ramble panicking, the realisation that you’re indeed on the other side of the Earth due to some magic is yet to register. But the awkwardness from the stares you have just gotten has already turned you bashful.

Listening to you, the wish dragon seems sheepish and slightly embarrassed as he scratched his nape, his colourful hair falling into his cast down eyes.

“Oh… sorry. I got so excited over the wish that I didn’t think about it! It’s been a while since I did teleport magic but hey, I still have it in me. Anyways, sorry. Phone and wallet, you said? Here you go,” he pulls out something from his pants which magically seems to be indeed your belongings. That definitely makes things earlier.

“Uhm, thanks. Where are we exactly?”

“Ah, well you mentioned your friend Mark Lee, so we’re here. Well, one bell away because I did remember that it’s rude to intrude other’s houses without permission first,” oh now, you know, you snicker internally and gulp because hell, even if you wanted to see Mark, you wouldn’t have thought that the meeting would come so soon. You didn’t have enough time to prepare yourself mentally.

“So… you’re telling me that this… is where Mark lives?” you point at the impressive apartment complex on the corner of the street but Taeyong shakes his head.

“Nope, This is where your Mark lives,” he says and before you could object about the ‘your’ part, the dragon points at the other side of the road at a luxurious house with a huge garden, basically a palace. Seeing the beautiful fountain, the modern and yet traditional Korean style building beyond the fences makes your jaw drop.

“Hahaha, alright for a magic dragon you must have made a mistake. There’s no way the Mark Lee I know lives here,” you look back at Taeyong finding it funny that the kid who used to wore his favourite tees until his mother basically threw them out would live at such a place.

“Mark Lee, korean name Minhyung, supposed to be 22 years old internationally soon. Bad eyesight, contagious laugh, clumsy but has surprisingly good reflexes, gets embarrassed easily. Sound familiar?” Taeyong crooks a brow at you as he reads the information off from a parchment he just took out of his pants. Everything he listed is just so Mark that you’re left in disbelief.

“Uuh… that sounds about right.”

“His father hit it big in 2016 with a tech company, their net worth has too many zeros to count,” Taeyong explains, seeing how surprised you were over the fact that he lived a lavish life like this. Not that he doesn’t deserve it! Mark is such a sweetheart, so of course, you would only want the best for him but as if half the world wasn’t enough, now you have another huge gap between you.

“Gosh, I really can’t believe this. How am I supposed to just ring the bell and say hello after so much time?” you sighed with your head in your hands. “Argh, I need to buy some clothes and change.”

Taeyong approves the idea based on how enthusiastically he hollers, you wonder why nobody on the street seems to pay no attention to him. Maybe only you see him, just more reason for you to be crazy.

“Good idea because we’re having dinner with Mark!”

“What?” you look up in shock, not following through. Taeyong grins down at you, flashing a giddy smile and with a twirl he’s changed from his baggy, casual clothes to something more chic but still laidback.

“Your wish was him meeting me, so I arranged everything. I can't meet him without you and the teapot there, you know,” he explains as if it was supposed to be obvious. You aren't ready yet though.

“You just want to eat all the fancy delicious food he has,” you squint at him suspiciously and the dragon stays silent, so you must be right. He laughs nervously.

“Maybe, but can you blame me? I haven’t had a feast since a literal decade!” he hollers and somehow you really cannot find it in yourself to be angry at him. You are in Seoul for god's sake after all and magic is real, you can put up with the inconvenience of buying clothes and making yourself look decent before dumping all this surprise on Mark.

An hour later you stand in front of the gates of the Lee mansion and nervously you wipe your sweating hands into your dress. You can totally do this, you just say hi to an old friend, it's not like you're afraid he wouldn't remember you, hah, of course not–

"Y/N!"

You whip your head at the call of your name to the source of that all too familiar voice. Sure it's deeper than you remember but there's no mistake in whose it is. Plus, who else would call your name in South Korea of all places.

"Mark, hey!" you wave the boy who just got out of one of the fanciest cars you've ever seen in your life. And yet, despite the Prada suit and expensive shoes, styled hair and Swiss watch on wrist, Mark Lee still has that goofy little smile and the doe eyes that used to make you weak in the knees. Hah, who are you kidding? They still do.

"Oh my god, dude, you… you got pretty," Mark jogs up to you and having no filter like always he blabbers immediately only to stutter as his ears turn red. It was so him talking before thinking, so you didn’t really mean to dwell on his words. Although you felt your cheeks dusted with pink soon enough. "I mean, it's really good to see you! I was so surprised to see your name in my calendar for today's dinner! You should have told me you were coming to Korea, I would have picked you up at the airport."

His calendar? Ah, of course, he must have been busy and all that. You wouldn’t have been surprised to see an assistant run after him at this point, so you wonder how your wish dragon magically put you onto his list of important people to meet. Gosh, it was so weird.

"Ah, I have a funny story about that…" you chuckled to yourself but before you could have get out anything, even a please, can we go to a more private place? Mark’s eyes zero on the guy next to you and his eyes grow comically wide.

"And uhm, who is your friend?" he points at Taeyong who waves him in exchange with a kilowatt smile. He looks back at you with his mouth agapé. "Oh my god, you came to invite me to your wedding?"

He says oh my god way too many times for an eloquent rich kid, he really is the Mark Lee you knew.

"No, never! I mean, of course, I would invite you but Taeyong and I– I literally met him on my way here," you explain hastily cursing yourself for the silly lie. You came to tell him the news not to try to make it believable.

“I heard there’s food,” the wish dragon pipes in very helpful and you shoot him a disapproving glance he doesn’t notice. Luckily, Mark doesn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, yeah, of course, dinner! Come on in, let’s get you two settled,” he grins albeit a bit awkwardly as he leads you through the gate after opening it with his card.

On the way through the very, very, very big garden, he’s chattering about how he misses the Vancouver weather, especially on humid, hot days like this and talks about how he thinks the fountain in their yard is a bit too much but his mom loved it and then before you know it, you sit by a huge dining table with fine food in front of you. Suddenly you can’t decide whether you're grateful for Taeyong’s shameless presence – he digs into the jjigae right away – because at least the situation isn’t awkward because of your silence or you’re annoyed by it because you must seem like a weirdo because of him. That’s why you decide to rip off the bandage and tell Mark as soon as the last maid has disappeared too.

“Okay, so actually I came here because I have a surprise,” you speak up, probably too serious because the boy almost chokes on his food due to how fast he turns his head towards you.

“More surprise?” he coughs out and you offer him a glass of water which he takes with a smile.

“You literally won’t believe this one!” you assure him and wait until he gulps down the drink. Only then you point to Taeyong and tell him that your childhood wish has come true.

Mark almost falls off his chair this time.

Not after you tell him that though. He laughs at that with that wheezing laugh of his as if you told the joke of the century then pats you on the shoulder murmuring That was a good one, bro and turning back to his food. But then you look at the magic dragon pointedly and Taeyong puts down his chopsticks with an exaggerated sign. Then he flexes his magic: turning into his dragon form among additional sparkles and Mark suddenly looks like he’s about to faint. He reaches out to tap on your shoulder while not taking his eyes off the wish dragon.

“Am I dreaming?” he whispers and honestly, you totally get his reaction while Taeyong mumbles something about ‘people these days not believing in dragons’ as he shows off all the things he could do: gift riches, make one stronger than they are, giving skills of whatever one wants. He starts rambling about how this one Chinese emperor became wealthy thanks to this, how that one actor in martial arts and all this before changing back to his human form and he continues eating his pasta like nothing ever happened.

“I can do this all day,” he shrugs as if he didn’t just perform the coolest magic tricks.

“This… this is the best thing ever!” Mark exclaims with those sparkles in his eyes you missed so much. He was always so excited about new things and it automatically makes you smile how he bombards Taeyong with million questions like: ‘So you are the wish dragon that grants wishes?’ or asking him about his scales, his unique color, how it feels to live in such a small teapot, how old he is and the dragon glows under all the attention. Can’t blame him but Mark has always been so curious about the world, it’s endearing.

“So your first wish was to meet me?” he turns to you after long minutes of interrogating Taeyong and suddenly, under the spotlight you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can feel yourself blushing because you didn’t necessarily mean to wish for that but it’s not like you’re regretting it, it’s just… you don’t want him to misunderstand.

“I thought you should meet him, too, after all the package was delivered for the two of us,” you look down, trying to sound nonchalant while picking your food, avoiding Mark’s gaze. No matter how open armed he welcomed you, you still aren’t convinced that it’s okay to be here because the more time you spend with him, the more you would like to stay a part of his life. “It’s just… I wasn’t really sure we could ever meet again. We didn’t keep contact after you left.”

With dropped shoulders, you try not to sound too downhearted because of what happened because you know all too well, it wasn’t his fault, it was a family decision and look at him, it did good for him! He seems happy, they live in a practically mansion but most importantly, he didn’t seem to change with the wealth. He might wear expensive clothes but under it all he’s still the boy with the most loveable smile.

“I… I was thinking about you a lot, I just thought you forgot about me,” Mark admits with a sheepish smile, tucking his hair behind his ear shyly. He really still is the same and it’s playing silly little games with your heart. If this was a cheesy Disney movie, a slow bgm would start to play as you look into each other but your moment is broken when Taeyong accidentally kicks into his chair as he stands up. At first he looks alarmed but then giggles.

“I will just… go. Don’t mind me,” he disappears like smoke with a wink, leaving you two alone at which Mark lets out a woah. You chuckle at his cute reaction, heart doing somersaults in your chest.

You thought it would be awkward, just the two of you alone after long years but Mark has this thing that he makes people feel comfortable around him, so it’s actually quite nice. You catch up on everything and anything that comes to your mind: old neighbours, studies, friends, what are you doing now and what would you like to do, too.

After finishing the delicious dinner, Mark offers a home tour which you would never refuse and you jaw drops at the huge crystal chandelier in their living room as well as their swimming pool but your favourite place in the whole mansion is Mark’s room because it’s just so him. You can’t describe it well but the moment you step inside, it feels like home. It’s cozy to the point it makes you want to cuddle a pillow. It has colours of pastels, a synthesizer here, a guitar there, posters of singers framed on his wall and vinyl records hanging down. His window has a view of sunset and Namsan above their green garden and although you haven’t been in Seoul before, you’re pretty sure it’s your favourite place in the whole damn city, too.

“Wait, there’s someone I would like you to meet,” Mark suddenly exclaims while you’re looking through his pictures and he pulls you out of his room, out of the house, into the garden: You giggle all the way as he’s being so secretive about it but then your steps halt unexpectedly and the hand you have in Mark’s yanks him back.

“Mark… why is there a tiger in your garden in the middle of Seoul?” you ask as quietly and as immobile as you can. You don’t want to attract the sleeping animal’s attention to yourself. But to your biggest surprise, the boy just laughs, his thumb caressing your skin soothingly.

“She’s Jasmine and she won’t hurt you,” he reassures you but needless to say, you’re not too calm and you’re pulled close to the wild animal that lifts its huge head towards you lazily. “She was abandoned by her mother as a cub and she was outcast in the zoo because she’s a bit sick, so she has always been weaker than her siblings. Dad made a donation and we have raised her since she was young.”

You hiss when Mark reaches out without fear but the tiger basically purrs as he strokes down his fur at the neck. You watch in awe as this big wild animal becomes a soft cat under the hands of Mark Lee. When the boy encourages you to pat her too, you hesitate but he promises you that it’s gonna be alright and you take a leap of faith.

“What’s her sickness?” you wonder aloud as your fingers get lost in the soft fur of the tiger. You hope she’s not in a lot of pain.

“It’s an immune system thing, not sure what exactly but she wouldn’t have survived this long in the wild,” the boy tells you and his mouth curls up in a smile when Jasmine licks your hand. It seems like you’re tiger-approved. You look into its warm brown eyes and your heart churns at the thought of her condition.

Mark tells you stories of Jasmine, about that one time she crashed his birthday cake or how much she likes to swim with him in their pool during summer and gosh, you could listen to him go on and on forever. You’re only reminded of the reality, that all this is just a possible one-time thing, a weekend getaway with magic when Taeyong shows up in swimwear, ready to crash in said pool.

“I guess he might have been bored in that teapot,” Mark laughs, not minding at all. He even offers you to join but you have a better idea.

“Taeyong, I have my second wish!” you call out for the wish dragon who’s suddenly much more excited about that than the water. He’s beside you in a moment, beaming and curious. You glance at Mark with a soft smile before looking at your personal genie confidently.

“I wish Jasmine would be healthy,” you whisper, playing with the tiger’s furry ears which she seems to enjoy. You were a little bit afraid the dragon would say it’s not possible, that he can’t cure sickness but to your relief, he just grins.

“Your wish, my command,” he nods and puts a hand over the animal. Nothing but a smoke of purple signals the magic being done but you believe in it and so does Mark by the looks of it. He reaches out for your hand and squeezes it gently.

“Thank you,” he smiles and you smile back. He used to be your best friend after all, it’s the least you can do for him.

Mark convinces you to stay the weekend and there’s no way you could tell no to him, not when he clears his schedule just for you. He never complains about how busy he must be working for his father’s business while being a music major at a local university. All he ever talks about is the places he wishes to show you and he takes you around Seoul as if he was your certificated tour guide. It’s lovely how enthusiastic he is about it while what really matters to you is the time you spend together. He makes sure you two take a million photos to remember by, Taeyong posing on half of them since he joins you on your little trips and sometimes it’s just the two of you watching the wish dragon being genuinely in awe by modern technology, 10 years is a long time after all.

On the last day before you have to go back to Vancouver (thanks to Taeyong’s kind offer to take you the same way you came back since he misunderstood you, you don’t have to sit through a 10+ hours flight and you have more time), Mark not only tries to make you breakfast despite having an in-house chef (his eggs are ugly as heck but you appreciate his efforts and can’t help but coo at his dreamy smile under that grey hoodie when you tell him it tastes yummy) but he also introduces you to his friends in Korea. Of course, they tease you (mostly Mark) about where he has been hiding you but it’s all chill and fun you’re not quite ready to say goodbye. But you should go because the more you stay, the more you don’t want to leave. You’re lucky enough for this chance to reunite with Mark but all good things end eventually.

“Let’s not disappear from each other’s life again, okay?” the boy grins at you as you’re ready to go, Taeyong already working on his magic.

“Yeah, let’s not,” you agree easily, looking forward to your video chatting and constant texting even if it’s from the two opposite ends of the Earth with a terrible time zone difference.

You glance at the wish dragon who’s drumming with his fingers while pursing his lips as if he was waiting for something and you let out a huff before working up the courage to actually do something about these feelings inside of you. You might have regretted not confessing in middle school, you have spent years wondering about the what ifs, so you don’t want to make the same mistake twice but still, you want to give Mark a chance to ignore it all if he wants to. So you step forward and wrap your hands around him as you hug him close. It’s obvious that your action takes him aback, he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands and his body tenses under you but it all melts as you say those words that have been threatening to fall from your lips all this time:

“I have missed you.” you confess, honest and based on the hitch in his breathing, Mark must be surprised. You can’t blame him though, you just wanted him to know. You step back with a weary smile, his big Bambi eyes on you but before he could say anything you nod at Taeyong and you feel yourself falling, purple fog pulling you in. A few moments later you’re back in Vancouver, in your apartment, without him.

The first few days pass in a blurr, you can still barely believe what just happened. Your weekend with Mark feels like a too good dream but Mark kept his side of promise and texted you almost immediately as you left. He sends you selfies, songs that remind him of you and you talk about your days like you never did before. Still, it feels like you’re dancing around certain topics which are basically the elephant in the room and maybe that’s why Taeyong tries to cheer you up in his own way. Though, he soon realizes that you not being happy isn’t the problem, you are happy, you just… miss Mark more than you ever did.

“Enough of moping, you still have a wish left!” Taeyong exclaims, throwing himself onto your bed. “Come on, close your eyes, imagine what you want the most in the world and make a wish!" he singsongs. However, before you could even just indulge him, your phone pings with a new notification.

fullsun00 tagged you in their post!

You click on it right away, wondering what Mark’s friend Donghyuck is doing online at 1AM. The uploaded post turns out to be a photo of you and Mark when you all hang out near Han river. You were too busy at the time laughing at how the boy almost lost his whole scoop of ice cream before he could have had a single bite to notice his smile while looking at you. Based on his caption Donghyuck apparently wasn’t.

fullsun00: just old friends, they say. friends my ass @buttercupyn @onyourm__ark

You click your tongue wondering what Mark thinks of the callout but you press like on the post anyways. You put your phone aside before you could see how his other friends join the teasing in the comment section.

“Actually, I do have my third wish,” you speak up as you turn to Taeyong before he could make a remark on your tinted cheeks.

You’ve been thinking a lot about it during the past days. You could wish for anything but you’re at a point of your life where no riches or fame would make you happier because you’re happy enough just the way it is. It might not be perfect but you don’t want to be selfish and you want to make decisions you won’t regret: like catching up with Mark, curing his tiger and bringing happiness into the life of somebody who only ever served other people in his life.

“Ooh, what is it?” Taeyong claps, giddy as if he was waiting for this to happen. He probably did.

“I wish you would go on a vacation and enjoy life,” you tell him but unlike his usual reaction, this time the dragon’s smile fades and he blinks at you, confused.

“You could ask for anything in the world and that’s what you want? Are you sure?” he furrows his brows, not quite believing your words but you just smile, knowingly.

“Yes, Taeyong, I’m sure.”

“Your wish, my command,” he bows with his hands put together and with a twirl suddenly he’s in a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses, looking as ready for a holiday as one can be. You chuckle and tell him to just go, you’ll be fine.

You’re fine, you really are. Life goes on, you study and work, you laugh with your friends, you video call with Mark regularly and his friends are regulars on your social media, too. It’s just sometimes the feeling of missing something hits you harder than other days. Especially when you’re looking through the pictures you have from your Seoul weekend.

“I wish you were here,” you whisper ahead of you at one particularly good photo of Mark and the sunset, smiling at you behind the camera. You miss his smile, the cute wrinkles around his eyes when he crunches his nose, the sound of his laughter, his hand on your wrist… you miss him.

Ding-dong.

You stand up startled at the sound of your flat’s bell, running to the door to open it even though you have no idea who it could be so early on a Saturday morning. Not having a better idea, you expect it to be either a neighbour of your landlord but on the other side of your doorstep stands a boy who you thought was a continent away. He’s dressed semi-casually this time, his shirt tucked in his jeans, hair lightly falling onto his forehead and a nervous smile on his thin lips.

“Mark! But I⎼ I don’t even have more wishes,” you blink, taken aback, looking around to look for Taeyong in case he came back. But your behaviour just manages to confuse Mark instead.

“What?”

“I just wished you were here,” you blurt out without thinking, your words only processing later in your brain and it’s then when heat creeps onto your cheeks. Mark tries to but can’t really hide his growing smile at that.

“Really? I’m glad then. I just took my new private plane on a test drive,” he says bashfully, a silly excuse for real.

“All the way to Vancouver?” you tease, watching Mark fumble with the hem of his shirt. Your heart beats overtime just because of the fact that he’s there.

“Well, what can I say? I did miss the weather here,” he plays along with a shrug but he’s more serious when he looks deep into your eye and adds: “And you left without letting me answer.”

Oh yes, you did. You were kind of afraid of his reaction but seeing how he was ready to travel across the world just to see you, maybe there’s no reason for you to be so afraid. It feels like deja vu but a reversed one in a way as Mark gently pulls you into a hug, his lips grazing your hair with a whisper that makes your heart skip a beat: ��I have missed you too.”

You really wouldn’t wish for anything more.

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #mark lee x reader #mark lee x you #stories

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professorrw · 3 years ago

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Drunken Stupor

Pairing: female reader x Steve Rogers

Request: @tomholland792 based on this tiktok: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMdaesDvr/

Warnings: drinking, hangover, misunderstanding

A/N: This is unrelated but I got my first vaccine shot today! Requests open, taglist open, inbox open! Please like, comment, and reblog!

It was a night to remember for sure. Looking back there were so many things you did wrong. But in the long run it was worth it.

You were having a night out, something that was rare since you had joined the Avengers. Things were slow around base so you saw no harm to go clubbing with Wanda. You two were pretty close knit since you were both the newbies.

The whole night was full of partying and drinking and dancing. It was two in the morning by the time Wanda called an Uber to pick you two up and take you home. You stumbled into the back seat with Wanda in tow. You were giggling and your head was spinning and it took all your effort to focus on what the red-head was saying.

“Who-” hic, “do you think is hot?”

You squinted at her and tapped your chin. “I think- I think that Steve is.”

“What about-” hic, “Bucky?”

“Mmm he’s hot too I guess.” In your drunken stupor every thought you had was coming out of your mouth. You didn’t like Bucky in that way, it was Wanda’s words that had coaxed out that response. Your first idea of someone hot was Steve.

Ugh, Steve. In your opinion he was by far the most attractive of all the Avengers, including yourself. He was the first to welcome you and he really helped with the process of getting to know everyone. There was instant chemistry between the two of you and although you weren’t together, dating or liking other guys felt like cheating. Somewhere in your heart you hoped that you would be together someday.

But that wasn’t at the forefront of your mind at the moment. Your mind was hazed over and the only thing you could think of was your immediate thoughts.

You got out of the Uber once you arrived at the compound. Your driver was nice enough to park right in front of the doors because he could tell how hammered you both were. You kicked off your heels by the front door and leaned on the wall for support as you did it. On the way to the living room you were swaying back and forth and replaying Wanda’s words, which were the only thought that was clear at the moment.

Natasha, Tony, Steve, and Rhodes were in the living room when you two walked in. The group could immediately tell that you were drunk.

The first person you caught sight of was Steve, who was sitting in a chair reading.

“Hey capsicle,” you said. You weren’t entirely sure if they could understand what you were saying but you were so out of it your eyes weren’t even staying open.

Steve had warned you before you left not to get too drunk, or else you would have a terrible hangover. Obviously you didn’t heed his words. He looked up from his book and glanced at you. It killed him to see you so out of it. He liked you, really liked you, and the fact that you had gotten drunk and didn’t even ask him to come get you worried him.

Nat looked over at Cap, “Steve?”

He just shook his head and looked back down at his book. Natasha was aware of Steve’s crush on you, and also knew without being told how protective he was of you.

For some reason the next thing you said was, “By the way, Bucky’s hot.” Out of all the things you said that night, that was the one thing you regretted the most.

Steve was so bothered by what you had said he shut his book, got up, and walked off. He was planning on telling you soon how he felt, but now you were saying that you thought his best friend was hot? There wasn’t anyone to blame in the situation. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault you said that. To Steve’s knowledge you’d only met him once.

Tony was never told of Steve’s crush but Steve wasn’t very good at hiding the fact. He ran a hand down his face. He lived for some good old fashioned drama, but Tony was tired of all the pining that was going on between you two. He was going to combust if one of you didn’t confess soon.

Rodes was none the wiser of your crushes but he could tell from Steve’s reaction and the rest of the groups’ that nothing good was happening.

Natasha walked over to you and put her arm under yours to hold you steady. “Let’s get you to bed.”

The next morning you woke up with a pounding headache. You raised up slowly and rubbed your eyes. On your bedside table was a glass of water and a note. It said, “Drink up and eat a good breakfast! -Nat.”

You downed the glass of water and went to the bathroom. You squinted at yourself in the mirror. You were wearing an oversized t-shirt of yours and your hair was in shambles. You instantly regretted the previous night’s drinking that you had done. You tried to think back on what happened but your mind drew a complete blank. You couldn’t remember anything after your first few drinks.

You walked to the kitchen and pulled a bowl out of the cabinet. You weren’t even going to attempt to make a whole breakfast in the state you were in. You poured some instant oats and water into the bowl and popped it into the microwave. Steve walked in while you were waiting for your oatmeal.

“Good morning,” you said.

“Morning Y/N.” He gave you a thin smile, grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and walked off. You stared after him with a confused look. You may have been a little disoriented but it was obvious something was wrong with Steve. You put that thought away when the microwave beeped.

You ate your breakfast alone and chilled in your room for a few hours. Right after lunch Natasha came to check on you.

“Doing okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for the water by the way. I woke up with a killer headache.”

“No problem. You were drunk last night when you got home and I thought you would most likely have a bad hangover,” she explained.

“I do. I can’t even remember most of the night. Oh, and what’s wrong with Steve? I saw him this morning at breakfast and he was acting weird.” You sat up in your bed and crossed your legs.

She winced, “Um- I think you should ask him about it. It has to do with last night.”

You groaned, “Oh god, what did I do?”

“Well, you came in completely wasted and basically said that you think Bucky is hot.”

You raised your eyebrows and blinked at her. Internally you were slapping yourself. You said that in front of Steve? In front of the guy you liked? How could you be so dumb?

“I’m gonna go but if you want to know, Steve’s in the gym.” Natasha waved and left your room.

As soon as her footsteps faded you slid on some house shoes and made your way down the stairs. You weren’t entirely sure of what you were going to say but you were already in front of the gym door.

You opened it and there was Steve, hitting some punching bags. He showed no signs of noticing you so you walked over to him. He didn’t stop until you were a few feet away. Sweat was dripping down his face and his chest was heaving.

“Look Steve, I'm sorry about last night. I was black out drunk and didn’t know what I was saying. I can’t even remember what happened, but Natasha said that I called Bucky hot right in front of you and that’s not the case. Not that I don’t think Bucky is good looking because that’s not true-” You were so nervous that you began to ramble and all Steve could do was sigh.

“Let me start over. I don’t like Bucky, plain and simple. I actually like you,” you admitted. You bit your lip and looked at Steve.

He raised his eyebrows, “Really? So you don’t like Bucky?”

“No, I don’t. I barely even know him.”

Steve inhaled, “I guess I’ve been a little… rude to you then. I’m sorry too. I acted like a child about it. I just reacted like that because I like you and it hurt to hear that you thought my best friend was hot.”

You laughed, “It’s okay, I understand. So would you like to go on a date sometime then?”

“Yeah, yeah. I would love to.” He smiled at you and you just smiled back. The circumstances of your confession were less than swoon worthy but it all worked out in the end. That was the beginning of your relationship with Steve and you would both joke about it later on.

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get-shiggy-with-it · 4 years ago

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#1 Victory Royale

✧ pairing: college student!spinner x student!afab!reader

✧ word count: 4.4k

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, light angst, mostly soft/fluff, smut, could be hate fucking if you squint, afab reader but no pronouns, this is pretty tame, by like my standards, I wrote this at work, not really a warning, but it felt like you needed to know that

✧ summary: relationships suck and Spinner is starting to think maybe he does too

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, welcome back to more college au bs from me. This is set in the same universe once again as all my other college pieces. A very sweet anon asked if we'd ever get to see more of Spinner, so here he is! Also with another cameo from shiggy's bitch (endearing) cause I can't help myself.

“Ughhhhhh….”

Spinner’s groaning echoed through the tiny apartment, the heavy sound of creaking couch cushions under his weight following.

“What?” his long-suffering roommate shouted out their bedroom door, rapidly shoving clothing and a toothbrush into an overnight bag.

“Uggghhhhhhh!”

He let out with another, louder dying animal wail. He’d been like this since they woke up—wallowing in some strange concoction of self pity and Red Bull on the kitchen floor when they walked in for water two hours ago.

“Motherfucker,” they mumbled, tossing their bag to the floor and marching, more than a little disgruntled, into the hall. “What do you want?”

Spinner was sitting upside down on the couch now, feet up against the wall tapestry and cotton candy hair splayed out on the floor. He stared blankly as his friend came into view—arms crossed, frowning at him from the end of the hall—and opened his mouth once more, letting out another garbled grunt that had one of the neighbors pounding twice on the wall to shut his dramatic ass up.

“Dude seriously, are you gonna tell me who pissed in your cereal or are you just gonna scream until the guys next door kick a hole through our wall?”

They almost felt bad as he looked away, sniffing and letting himself slump farther off the sofa until he was sprawled completely on the hardwood and staring, glassy eyed, up at the ceiling.

When he finally spoke a full sentence, his gaze was locked on the water stain above him from a year ago when the upstairs neighbors flooded their apartment trying to make jungle juice in the bathtub.

“I don’t know, I’m just in my feels as the kids say,” he sounded so dejected—strange for someone who was perpetually energized to a frustrating degree—that their shoulders immediately slumped from a hardass square to a softer, more sympathetic angle

They padded over to join him on the floor.

“Care to elaborate, oh roomie of mine?”

There was a pause and Spinner tapped his nails against the hardwood idly before responding.

“I guess I’m just feeling, like, fucking I don’t know,” he sighed, knocking his head against the dusty boards, “left out I guess? That’s not quite right, but it’s just Magne mentioned last time she came to The League meeting that Jin was seeing somebody and it just got me all introspective and weird…”

“Hm,” his roommate hummed thoughtfully and studied the way the textured white ceiling gave way to the rings of brown water damage, like a dead and dying flower, “I thought you and Jin weren’t ever that serious?”

“We weren’t,” Spinner groaned again and rubbed his eyes. “We went on like, one date a year ago and I haven’t thought about it really at all since then. I’m not sure why hearing he’s got someone else now made me so fucking...jealous I guess.”

“I mean, maybe you just never really gave yourself the time to process it?” they asked and received only an annoyed huff and accompanying groan. “Sorry, should have asked if you were looking for advice or just wanting to rant. My bad.”

“No, it’s fine. I think it’s just…”

Spinner trailed off and they shifted as the hard floor bit at their back and made it ache. The muscles were sore already as it was, and Tomura blowing their fucking back a few times a week wasn’t really helping. They’d created some kind of perpetually horny monster, but something told them cracking a joke about it wasn’t really going to help the situation much. Thankfully, Spinner found his way to filling the silence a minute later.

“I don’t think it has anything specifically to do with Jin. Yeah I liked him, we’re still really good friends and I don’t feel like I need him to be more than that. It’s just that—and this is gonna make me sound like a massive asshole—but with you and your new fucking boyfie and now even Jin finding someone to date I just keep seeing reminders everywhere of how motherfucking isolated I am.”

“Oh,” they felt their face burn a bit, guilt frothing as they were forced to acknowledge the fact that in all the time they’ve spent holed up with Tomura, Spinner had been discarded like an old Steam game, bought impulsively on sale and never played again. “I’m sorry I haven’t been prioritizing you—”

“No, no, no shut the fuck with that,” he waved his hand to cut them off and pushed himself up on his palms. “I know I’m not being fair about it, and I really am happy for you guys, but idk man….I just feel like I’m never gonna find that you know?”

Beside him, his roommate remained sprawled out on the floor like a homicide tape outline and was just as deadly quiet.

“I just,” he continued, running an angry hand through his hair, “I know I could be such a good partner. Like I’m funny and I’m not a fucking creep, which is actually a plus to most people.”

He shot a side glance down and they rolled their eyes, sitting up and knocking his shoulder roughly till he toppled back to the dirty floor and they stood above him.

“Fuck off,” they chuckled.

His roommate watched as the laughter seemed to infect him like a bad cold, creeping down the back of his throat and shaking in his chest.

“No I’m serious, I would be such a fucking great boyfriend. I give goddamn top quality cuddles and I actually know how to do laundry, what more does one need truly?”

“Damn bro, you’ve known how to fold your own clothes this whole time?”

The giggling spread into the quiet space, rocking through both their shoulders and leaving the air feeling light—fresh like the first nights of Spring. When it finally petered out into friendly silence, they were both far lighter.

“I just like the way you fold my t-shirts, the sleeves don’t get those weird creases when you do it,” he muttered and stood, doing his best to fix the wild pink locks that stood on end from his fidgeting.

“Yeah I’m sure,” his roommate rolled their eyes and turned back down the hall.

When they left for the night to stay over with their boyfriend, Spinner tried not to acknowledge the way he subconsciously glared at their back as they walked out the door, skipping yet another League meeting to swap spit with that guy from their English class.

He tried even harder not to think of how their bed would be warm and their legs would have legs to tangle with, their chest have a chest to lay against, while he heated up instant noodles in the microwave and fell asleep alone on their living room couch.

Not to mention that tonight was the big tournament with that new group on campus. He was really banking on his bff (best fucking friend as they were always sure to clarify) and him teaming up to crush those assholes from The Commission or whatever they called themselves.

Fucking lame as shit name in his opinion.

In any case, he’d have to settle for Magne again, and she was such a loose cannon they were sure to get their asses handed to them. She was a great fucking tank, he’d be the first to admit, but strategy was not a strong point of hers and they desperately needed that tonight.

He could feel the sinking weight of failure rolling in the pit of his stomach already even as he dragged himself into his room to tug on an old pair of jeans.

It bothered him way more than it should, the idea of losing some gaming tournament that, by all means held little to no actual significance.

Spinner knew the stock he’d started placing in games was growing to an unhealthy degree.

He knew that.

But self awareness rarely did anything to alleviate the irrational fear of failing at one of the only remaining consistencies in his life.

It stung worse when the tournament kicked off and by the third round, Spinner was the only remaining League member in the brackets.

“Fucking shit…” he muttered to himself, the small basement room alight with the blue glow of the monitor and the sound of frantically smashing controllers.

Behind him on the couch—stolen long ago from the theater building—Magne held him by the shoulders as he grit his teeth and leaned into the movement of his avatar on screen.

“You got this babe,” she shouted, cheek pressed up to his ear. “Make ‘em eat shit for me!”

“I would if you stopped distracting me,” Spinner hissed back.

Really it wasn’t Magne’s aggressive and somewhat bloodthirsty style of encouragement that shook his focus so badly.

It was his opponent.

The fucking president of The Commission sat, thighs spread and pressed to his, resting your weight on your elbows and snarling beside him in the couch.

Your face was split in this heart stopping grin as you quite deftly dodged all his attempts to get a hit in and managed to land a few of your own in the process.

And you looked really hot doing it.

Which was definitely just a side effect of the punch he (didn’t) drink and the body heat fueled temperature of the room—sweaty skin against sweaty skin making his mind wander against his will.

The shifting in his seat was absolutely just to illogically make him move faster and had nothing to do with how tight his pants now seemed.

So much for not being a fucking creep.

Your teammates were gathered in a circle behind you, enraptured and exuding the kind of smug confidence that said quite clearly The League was fucked from the second they walked in.

Not even two minutes later your hands were thrown up, punching the air and your team piling over the back of the couch to drown you in a sea of celebratory limbs.

Spinner felt himself deflating even as he was toppled off the couch by your screaming members and The League collectively cursed in the background.

Truthfully he’d known the chances of winning were slim.

Ever since his roommate started getting busy with classes and clubs that ‘looked good on their resume,’ The League had gone downhill rapidly. It was a problem since long before that Shigaraki guy swooped in and stole them away, but Spinner couldn’t stop himself from lowkey holding that against him.

The League had consumed so much of his life in college, functioning as a haven where he was finally respected and belonged to an extent he’d never experienced before.

The stink of failure and loss, not of the game but the only space he’d ever really occupied without complaint, burned his face and made the room feel more suffocating than usual.

Magne looked as though she wanted to give him one of her signature—and admittedly very comforting—hugs, but the deadly look of disappointment on Spinner’s face must have made her think twice.

The rest of his team seemed to read this sudden downward shift in the room as they began to filter out, climbing the steps onto street level and away from the suddenly stuffy, uncomfortable meeting spot. Normally everyone would stay and finish off the drinks snuck past the janitorial staff, eating Doritos until well past midnight. This time they couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

He couldn’t really blame them.

The multimedia building was a strange place after hours. Once Spinner might have called it something rare and liminal, now it felt more like a prison.

He stood, packing up the consoles a bit more roughly than necessary when someone cleared their throat behind him.

He turned to see you, standing alone with hands on your hips and scowling like you were the one who just got their gaming reputation ruined.

“Dude what the fuck was that?”

Spinner bristled at the knife sharp point of your tone.

“Really?” he asked incredulously. “You seriously waited around to rub your win in my face?”

You rolled your eyes and took a step closer around the couch. “I’m not talking about the fucking game dumbass. Why the hell are you pouting like I stole your fucking candy or some shit? You ruined the vibes man.”

“If anyone was ruining the vibes, it was you and your cocky ass team.”

Spinner felt himself stepping closer too, pulled in by the celestial weight that accompanied any kindling argument.

“Me?” you pointed to your chest and scoffed, “Wow, I was really hoping you’d actually possess a bit of emotional maturity, but if this is how you get after a loss I’m not shocked your fucking club is bleeding members.”

At some point the two of you had gravitated close enough that he felt the puff of your last breath on his cheeks. Two comets, ready and willing to collide.

“I’m not being the asshole in this situation, you know that right?” Spinner glared down his nose at you, heart pounding in his ears. “Maybe you shouldn’t make fucking unfounded assumptions about people you don’t know.”

“So then why are your panties in a twist over a fucking game?” you retorted.

He was peripherally aware that your eyes had taken on the same laser focused quality as they had during the last round. Determined and locked onto him without sparing a glance to anything else.

It was this same undivided attention that he’d envied in you as you played, and as Spinner felt it trained on him, his pants once again felt uncomfortably restrictive.

“It’s not about the fucking game okay!?” his voice came out hoarse and far more petulant than he’s been aiming for.

Though he quickly felt the embarrassment give rise to a secondary heat as you both breathed each other’s air and searched the face across from you.

“Then what is it about?”

That strange, unexplainable, inexplicable rush of potential filled the small gap that remained between your bodies—the kind of tension Spinner was beginning to think he’d never feel again.

He’d kissed plenty of people. Almost more than he’d like to admit, or that they’d like to admit more accurately.

But when his flickering eyes found your hard stare still and unwavering from his, it felt incredibly natural to lean in and press his lips against your fading frown.

It was slow going, the few centimeters that separated you seemed like miles as he moved slowly, never breaking eye contact until his mouth was finally slotted over yours and you weren’t pushing him away.

There was still a bit of lingering confusion, as this was decidedly not what either of you appeared to be expecting from the prior conversation. That coupled with the fact that Spinner wasn’t entirely sure he remembered your first name made the feeling of your tongue prodding at the seam of his lips all the more startling.

When he gasped, you slid your hands up his chest and licked into his mouth. Tongue tangling between breaths, Spinner felt himself getting lost in the familiar and coveted taste of another mouth, another body, another hand that grasped, that desired, that wanted him.

***

Your knees dug into the cushions on either side of Spinner’s thighs as you bounced in his lap. He fought to keep his eyes open against the pleasure of his cock sinking into you over and over again, so he could watch the way your head was thrown back and your chest heaved with the exertion.

He dug his hands into your hips and let his head hit the back of the couch, feet planted on the floor to help his hips thrust up into you, earning him some of the prettiest, stifled moans he’d ever heard.

Truthfully, he had not expected to fuck you. He figured you might be down to just make out for a bit until the cleaning staff came and booted you from the building, but both your pants had quite quickly and naturally found their way to the floor.

Neither of you spoke much, which he was thankful for. That would have been far too complicated of a conversation, especially considering you really didn’t know each other all that well.

Spinner usually liked to do a bit of ‘getting to know you’ type activities before he hooked up with people, which he did with surprising frequency for somebody so starved for a long term thing. Sex just fucking felt good and it was this eagerness that was his downfall. Most people he’d fucked around with seemed to read the urge to get into their pants as a diminished interest or emotional attraction and Spinner ended up with more friends with benefits than actual friends...or benefits.

Regardless, it was fine by him that the only form of communication passing between you for now were scattered groans of pleasure and the wet slap of your ass against his thighs.

He’d nearly forgotten how fucking amazing pussy felt.

For no particular reason, Spinner had always found himself fooling around with bodies more similar to his own. Not that he had any real preference, though the lack of experience often made him a bit nervous in the whole ‘pleasing your partner’ department, despite many helpful lessons from his roommate.

That was all to say that Spinner was incredibly thankful you reached down to guide his hand that had clumsily begun rubbing circles on your clit. That is until you simply knocked it away and went back to riding his dick like a fucking champ.

Then he did speak.

“Wanna make you cum,” he mumbled and really did sound like he was pouting this time.

You peered down at him, slowing your pace so you sat flush in his lap, grinding his cock deep against your walls. Spinner keened as you clenched around him, pussy so deliciously warm he felt himself near to drowning in the feel of you.

“Mm fuck,” you panted, leaning in to steal a few more messy kisses from him before lifting up and enveloping him in the slick heat all over again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” he nipped at the column or your throat, careful not to leave any lasting marks just in case. “If I’m finishing, you’re fucking finishing.”

You pulled back and stared at him for a moment. He felt you purposefully tightening around him just so he would squirm under your curious gaze. After a moment you smirked and rolled your eyes again, taking his hand and guiding his fingers back to that little nub just above where his thick length was seated inside you.

Spinner was proud of his dick, it was hefty but not so long that it was a hassle to fit—just enough to reach all the important bits. He was sensitive as hell too most of the time, so just about any pressure felt amazing. But the best part of it was watching whoever he was fucking fall apart on his goddamn perfect cock.

So when you whispered, “Like this,” and showed him the rhythm and motion you liked, he pulled himself back from the brink to pay attention, speeding up until that look of cooled control slid right off your face.

“Ahh, yes fuck...” the words tumbled from you freely now. “Shit, yeah just like that—”

Spinner could get fucking drunk off the low groan that left you as he planted his feet more firmly and bucked his hips up. He must have hit something good by the way you choked and moaned boarding on too loud, though he had neither the heart nor self control to stop you.

“Feel good?” he grunted, picking up the pace and force he thrust into you, so that you had to loop your arms around his neck and hold tightly as he speared you on his cock.

“Fuck...yes..” you whimpered into his shoulder which did wonders for his ego.

Spinner kept up his rubbing frantic patterns on your clit and feeling the gradual constriction of your walls around him—the coil growing tight and ready to snap. He nudged your cheek with his until you pulled back a bit to face him.

“I want to see you,” he murmured, sucking your tongue into his mouth for a moment and tearing himself away so he could watch as you came undone around him.

You gave him a strange, soft look and pressed your forehead to his, eyes zoned in on only him.

The rest of the room, the whole fucking basement and campus melted away under that stare.

Your nipples peaked through your shirt, brushing against his as you were jostled into him by the movement of your hips. As you reached your peak, words devolved into increasingly breathy gasps. It took Spinner an incredible amount of concentration not to fucking paint your insides then and there.

Your pussy was so goddamn tight and warm and milking him just right, it was a fucking impressive feat to remain staunchly at the edge of his peak as your mouth fell open and your fingernails scratched at his back when you finally came—the telltale spasms around his cock and the near sobs coming from you more than enough indication.

He lost himself well and truly then.

Lost in the false sense of intimacy that came with being allowed to see you fall apart, this person he barely knew yet made him feel immensely important in that moment. Your breath and spit was in his mouth, the smell and feel of you soaking his length pushed him beyond the realm of conscious thought.

There was only a deep and burning need to be closer to you. So, so much closer.

His hands moved of their own accord, hooking under your thighs and flipping your bodies so your back hit the cushions and he hovered above you. The angle allowed him to slide deeper, pulling out and thrusting his hips in fast, hard strokes that hurtled him towards release.

Spinner couldn’t keep himself quite now either, panting and moaning and gasping unashamedly with his eyes screwed shut as you took his cock so unbelievably well.

It wasn’t until your hands, softer than he’d imagined, cupped his jaw and pulled him down to meet you that he was brought back down from whatever higher plane of existence his impending orgasm whisked him too.

Your lips weren’t nearly as frantic as the rocking of his thighs, the slap of his balls against your ass. The sweetness was an odd but welcome contrast.

“I’m gonna—fucking mm...” he tried so hard to get his tongue to form the words but he could feel himself slipping further as you started clamping around his length again.

“I know,” you breathed against his lips, faces pressed together and unmoving eyes steady on his own. “Ahh, inside if you want.”

He did want.

Oh fuck did he want nothing more in that moment to stay sunk in your warmth and pump you so full, but the last few remaining logical braincells reminded him that was not a great idea. Not without a more in-depth conversation neither of you was in a state to have.

“Shouldn’t...” he groaned and moved to pull out but your ankles locked around his ass and forced him back down.

“It’s okay,” you huffed and rocked into him, squeezing around the sensitive head of his dick just once, just right and that did him in.

It was something in the way you looked at him, so that he could feel nothing but secure—nothing but safe wrapped up in you. Something about the way you pressed him closer, in the movement of your thumb on his cheek.

It scratched some deep seated, lonely itch in Spinner.

Made it feel like this meant a hell of a lot more than it probably did.

In seconds he was blowing his fucking load right into you, milking himself in your heat until he was spent and overstimulated. You were kind enough to pull him to you, turning your bodies so you laid side by side on the coach, his softening cock slipping from you in a gush of release.

For a minute or so, neither of you spoke, just stared, long and comfortable at the stranger you’d just fucked on the gaming club couch.

Well.

Fucked wasn’t really the word he’d use at that point to describe what you’d just done, but anything more than that felt presumptuous.

You broke the silence as he nuzzled into your palm.

“You really needed that didn’t you?”

Spinner couldn’t help the familiar, infectious laugh that rattled in his chest. He liked the smile it earned him, far more genuine than any others you’d worn that night.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

You hummed, nodding in response. “Mm, me too.”

And somehow, for no real logical reason, Spinner knew you understood. That you felt the same isolation, the same starvation for love, for holding weight in someone else’s world.

That the games were just a placeholder, a way to fill the space, to get lost in other lives, in other stories where he did matter. Where his actions had foreseeable and measurable worth. That’s why it hurt to lose. Not for the glory, but for the destruction of the only remaining diversion from how empty his reality felt.

Even if it wasn’t really.

Even if there were friends and benefits and friends who offered both. His roommate could let him rest his head in their lap on movie nights or sleep in his bed on occasion when the heat went out and he got cold too quickly. But none of that quite filled the hole like you now, holding his face and knowing the struggle without him having to explain it.

Nothing like you pulling him in and kissing him too familiarly for someone he’d only known a day.

Magne used to say something about shit like this. Something like how people bond in train cars when there’s a rat eating a slice of pizza and you all watch it happen. Some weird camaraderie forged in the shared experience of life being a little fucking freaky a lot of the time.

That was how it felt when you slipped your leg between his and brushed your lips together again. Content to lay, half naked in the media building basement, making out with some guy you beat at Smash and fucked right after.

Reveling in the brief but meaningful feeling of mattering in some small, strange way to someone else.

Of holding weight.

Of being held.

#spinner x reader #shuichi iguchi x reader #spinner x y/n #spinner x you #college au #mha angst #student!reader

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escapewriter · 4 years ago

Text

Lover

pairing : vernon x reader

synopsis : love makes you do crazy things, except this wasn’t really crazy for him. he’s just a man in love who’s willing to do it all for you.

genre : fluff, like a lot of fluff, humor

word count : 3.6k

warnings : none

posted : 2/17/21

a/n : ty ty to @woozisnoots for beta reading. i really needed it or it would’ve sounded so awkward so tysm alex <3 and HAPPY VERNON AND SEOKMIN DAYYYY. tell me why this took me almost a month to write even though its like... eh. neway, I HOPE YALL ENJOY, it has that princess and the frog vibe.

TAGLIST : @vibecheckvernon @beomiebear5 @lightoflife @skylions-den @noniesgirl @woozisnoots

won’t let me tag : @pandora1834

send me an ask/dm if you would like to be on the taglist

pieces of love masterlist // playlist // main masterlist

‘Letter 355’ was written in big letters on the front of the envelope. You sat on the bed as you tore the sealed flap open. Vernon has been writing you small notes ever since your 6th year anniversary. This is the first real letter you’ve gotten because before, it was simple post-it notes, and as your 7th year together approaches, you can’t help but wonder what he has planned this time.

You took out the paper, unfolded it and scanned his messy handwriting. You smiled as your fingertips touched the ink on the paper. You began to read:

Ma Belle,

I hope you will have a wonderful day today. Are you surprised you’re getting a letter instead of a post-it note? You probably are lol. Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the messy handwriting, I had to leave early this morning and didn’t have time to write neatly, or spell correctly so if you see some typos, you didn’t (cue the clown emoji).

Also, a heads up, I may be returning home late due to the guys wanting to hang out, so if you need me, call me. And yes, I’ll text you if I have to stay at one of their apartments and I’ll text you when I leave. I know the drill ;)

Please be safe today, and you know MY drill don’t you? It’s the exact same thing I said above, HA! So, text me when you leave the house and when you arrive at work. I can’t wait to see you again (even though we live together). I love you Ma Belle. Just 10 more days!

Love, Vernon

You smiled at the nickname he had given you as you felt the familiar rush of fireworks erupt in your stomach, hugging the letter close to your chest. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have a man like Vernon. He took time out of his day for almost a year just to write you a letter every morning so you could wake up happy. He is an absolute crazy man for doing this.

You folded up the letter and carefully placed it back in the envelope. You went to your desk, grabbing the photobook on the shelf and opened it, seeing where you kept all his notes for the past year. You flipped to a page and inserted the letter in an empty slot. You closed the book and placed it on the shelf once more, looking at it as you thought about how he was capable of doing something like this for a whole year, who knows what he has planned for your anniversary.

Vernon has a lot planned actually. He is going to keep writing you letters every morning before he goes to work, but on the day of your anniversary, it’s going to be a little different and he couldn’t wait for that day to come.

He walked alone, glancing into the stores that he passed as he waited for the call. He turned around and began to head back to where he came from before, feeling the buzzing of his phone. He looked at the screen and answered.

“Hey Shua, are you guys done?” He bit his lower lip a bit, hoping they got what he had asked for. He heard his friend sigh on the other end of the line.

“Hell yeah we got it.” Letting out a breath of relief, he nodded as he listened to Joshua tell him to return back to the car so they could go and eat. Hanging up, he walked quickly back to meet up with his friends.

He could not wait for the day to come.

You saw ‘Letter 360’ taped to the refrigerator when you reached the kitchen to prepare yourself breakfast. You had only received small notes like before ever since ‘Letter 355’, so you were a bit taken aback because you simply thought that he wrote a long letter due to his busy schedule that day. You weren’t sure what to expect of this though as he told you the night prior that he would be home before dinner.

You tore the flap of the envelope and took out the paper, quickly unfolding it as you began to read his messy handwriting:

Ma Belle,

Did you sleep well last night? I hope so because then I’ll feel bad for not being able to be there with you to make you feel better :( But!!! I hope this will make your morning a bit brighter if it wasn’t already. Inside the microwave are some pancakes that I made Mingyu bring for me because I would’ve burnt them. But they’re probably cold so you have to heat it up. There were 4 in total but I was hungry and ate one hehe.

Anyway, I’ll see you in a few hours, Ma Belle. Stay safe at work and text me! I love you!

Love, Vernon

You felt the warmth creep up in your chest as you grinned, rereading the letter again. Although this made you incredibly happy, you couldn’t help but think about what you could do better for Vernon in this relationship. You never want him to feel as if he was the only one putting effort.

After making a quick decision, you put the letter back in the envelope and brought it to your room, placing it in an empty slot of the photobook. You went back out to the kitchen and heated up the pancakes Vernon had mentioned, deciding that you will make a small trip to the store after having breakfast.

Unknowingly, you walked down the same path Vernon had the day he went out with his friends secretly without telling you. You passed multiple stores as you racked your brain for some sort of idea on what to get him. You already had your anniversary gift planned out for him, but that’s a secret that you have been keeping from him since day one. You just hope he doesn’t go searching for the photobook.

You walked slowly, glancing into stores to get some sort of idea before stopping in front of a jewelry store. You hesitated knowing that Vernon never wanted you to spend so much money on him, but look at where you are. You decide to tell him it’s an anniversary gift instead of just giving it to him tonight so that way he wouldn’t get mad at you. Yeah, that’s a better plan.

As you enter the store, your eyes immediately go to the locked glass cases of beautiful jewelry. Maybe you should’ve thought this through because you had no idea what to get him. Looks like guessing is the best bet for you.

You made it home from work just before Vernon got home. Quickly, you went to your room and took the box out of the bag and placed it behind the photobook. You disposed of the bag, making sure that Vernon wouldn’t spot any evidence of the fact that you spent a lot of money on him.

You were now in the kitchen, looking to prepare something for dinner before the front door opened with your boyfriend coming in with bags in his hand. You smiled and quickly met him at the door, grabbing a few bags before kissing his cheek.

“You bought dinner? I was planning to make something for you.” He smiled warmly and led you to the dining room, placing the bags on the table. He quickly kissed your cheek before holding one of your hands.

“Ma Belle~” The teasing sound of his voice echoed in your ears as you smiled widely, shying away a bit before you felt the tips of his fingers move your head to face his again, “You don’t have to cook for me tonight. Let’s just relax and enjoy the food I bought, how does that sound?” You stared into his hypnotizing eyes, the warmth in your chest rising as you nodded your head with a smile.

“Okay! Let's get some plates!”

You woke up to an empty bed, confused as to why Vernon wasn’t next to you. Sitting up straight, you looked at your night stand, searching for the familiar post-it note or envelope. You thought that maybe it was something similar to the letter 5 days ago where you found it taped to the fridge.

You stretched out your arms, yawning in the process as you heard your phone buzz on the table. Unplugging it, you opened your messages and spotted a familiar name. Boo Seungkwan.

‘You home?’ You didn’t know why he was texting you at this time, he was usually asleep. And he knows that it’s your anniversary with Vernon today, so you were confused as to why he was asking if you were home.

‘No. I’m with Vernon.’ Obviously you lied to try and get out of any sort of event he may have planned just so you can eat a small breakfast and get ready for the day. You just have to find Vernon’s note.

‘Bullshit. I’m with Vernon right now.’ Your eyes widened, a scowl appearing on your face as you questioned why Vernon was with Seungkwan instead of you. ‘Why are you with Vernon? Where are you guys?’

On the other side of the phone, Seungkwan was panicking. He knew that you weren’t with Vernon because Vernon was with Joshua setting up everything for your anniversary.

He looked around the room, thinking of an answer to come up with before Chan walked in, “Seungkwan? What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be distracting them for Vernon?” He tossed his phone to the younger, eyes filled with fear and uneasiness. Chan read the messages and laughed, “Vernon will kill you if you don’t pull this off. Good luck!” Seungkwan groaned as he decided to just show up at your home and keep you occupied.

You stared at the messages, expecting him to answer but received nothing. You sighed and just locked your phone, mind now set on looking for the letter. Every step you took to look into a room, your fingers were crossed in hopes that you would find any sort of evidence that Vernon has left for you. Plopping onto the couch, you thought that maybe he just forgot to write today, but it didn’t make sense since he wrote everyday for a whole year without forgetting. Even in previous letters, he would count down the days until it was your anniversary. It just didn’t make any sense.

You heard the doorbell ring, an ounce of hope in your heart as you thought that it could be Vernon. He has a key to the house. You sighed and got up from the couch as you went to the front door, unlocking it with a click and opening it.

Your eyes met Seungkwan’s and it immediately turned into a glare. “I thought you were with Vernon, hm?” He grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck.

“I lied.”

“I can see that.” You stepped to the side, making way for him to enter your house. You watched him sit on the couch as you closed the door and locked it. “What are you doing here, Seungkwan?”

“Uhm— Did you eat breakfast?” You saw his hands wipe down against his jeans, a nervous habit he had that you picked up on throughout your years of friendship.

“No I didn’t. And you avoided my question—”

“You haven’t eaten?” He stood up abruptly, determined to keep you distracted until lunch time, “Come on, lets cook some breakfast for you!” He turned towards the kitchen with you following closely after him after rolling your eyes and just letting it slide, thinking that maybe Vernon put him up to this.

Seungkwan sighed in content after finishing up his food, his eyes moving to meet your hard ones. “Seungkwan,” His eyes went to look around the room, just as long as they weren’t at you, “Seungkwan, stop avoiding eye contact.” He looked back at you, his lips pursed and throat feeling dry. “I have so many questions, but I won’t even bother at this point.” You shook your head and took your plate and his, bringing it to the sink and began to wash them.

As you were washing, you heard your name fall from his lips, “I can wash them, you have to go get ready.” Your head shot up, eyes looking to the side but your head staying in place.

“Get ready how? Where are we going?”

Seungkwan got up from his seat and stood next to you, “Don’t play dumb. Do you want your letter or not?” Your eyes lit up, nodding as you turned off the water and quickly went into your room to wash up and get ready.

“Thank you Seungkwan!”

You sat in the car with the radio gently playing in the background. A comfortable silence fell upon you and Seungkwan, who was in the driver's seat. You remembered to bring your gift as you looked at the large bag sitting on the floor between your legs. You checked the time on your phone, seeing that it was almost lunch.

“Wow, if Vernon planned a lunch, I’m glad you ate most of the breakfast food.” You out the window, giggling with Seungkwan.

“That was the whole point of me eating all the food. I had to keep you busy for a few more hours.”

You sighed and nodded your head in understanding, turning your head to look at the side of his face, “Where are we headed to anyway?”

He glanced away from the road to look at you for a split second before lifting up his hand, his pointer finger placed on his lips as he made a ‘shh’ sound. “It’s a secret.”

“Well can you tell me if it’s far? I kind of want to take a nap.”

“Go for it, but don’t get mad when I wake you up.”

Your eyes fluttered, feeling the cool breeze against your skin as goosebumps rose. You opened your eyes, seeing your boyfriend standing next to you with the car door open. He flashed his gummy smile, holding his hand out for you to take, “Ma Belle~”

You looked down at the floor as you placed your hand in his, stepping out of the car with your bag and present in hand. “Where have you been Vernon Chwe?”

You smiled cheekily at him to which he shrugged with a teasing smile, “I’ve been doing things.”

You began to smile, looking at your interlocked fingers as he led you to a familiar area. You scanned the place, seeing the light of the sun reflect off the little lake that you knew all too well. Your hand tightened in his grasp causing him to stop walking and to turn to look at you, “What’s wrong?” You pouted, puppy eyes boring into his as he smiled softly.

“You took me here? I thought this place became private property and people weren’t allowed to be here.” He laughed softly and brought up his hand, placing his pointer finger against his lips.

“Shhh, we’re not.” Your eyes widened as you hit him with your bag and he laughed, “I’m kidding, I talked to the owner and they were fine with it, come on, let’s go.”

He brought you over to a picnic setup, the tall tree providing you shade that can cool your down from the scorching sun. You both sat down on the blanket, looking out to the lake with the mini table in between. You sighed in content, your eyes never leaving the shining lake, “Vernon this is incredible. I’m so happy you were able to get us in here.” You looked over at your boyfriend, a smirk on his face as he held up the missing letter.

“I know you’ve been wondering where the final letter was but I don’t know if I want to give it to you just yet.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “You have to eat with me first and then I’ll give you the letter, okay?” You smiled and nodded your head happily, the thought of what could possibly be in the letter consumes your mind.

You finished your food with a toss of your napkin to the plate, your eyes immediately going to Vernon who was laughing softly. “I know what you’re going to ask, but first let me open my gift, please?” He pouted in which you rolled your eyes in response.

“Fine.”

You handed over the bag, biting your lip out of a nervous habit, watching him take out the tissue paper and spotting the box and photobook. He took out the photobook, looking at you with an unsure expression before opening it. Raising his eyebrows, he found every note he has written to you, and next to it is a note you have written in response.

He took a deep breath, flipping through all the pages, trying to be as slow as possible just to tease you, but no luck, “Vernon you can read it at home.” You whined next to him as he slightly glared at you,

“Hey, I just want to appreciate you.” Still, he listened and put the photobook back in the bag and then took out the box. He opened the top carefully and stared at the piece of jewelry laying inside.

He head lolled to look at you, another pout on his lips, “I told you not to buy me anything expensive.”

You giggled and nodded your head towards the bracelet, “Dig a little deeper Vernon,” He rolled his eyes at your remark of quoting the song before taking out the chain. He turned the small heart-shaped charm over and found your name next to the words ‘Your Evangeline’ engraved in it.

His grip on the chain loosened as he handed it to you, holding out his arm, “Put it on for me?” Quickly you wrapped it around his wrist and locked it in place, beaming with happiness. “I love this, I just— it’s beautiful.”

“Can I read the letter now?” He sighed in defeat as he failed to stall everything a little while longer.

“Way to ruin the sentimental mood.” He handed you the letter, watching you bounce in excitement as you prepared to rip it open.

“Wait! Read it up there, next to the lake. Pretend I’m not here, like how you would read any letter in the morning, okay?” You nodded standing up and scurried over to the lake, thinking about how weird it was that he asked you to read it at this spot. The thought left your mind the second your eyes scanned ‘Letter 365’. Your heart pounded in your ears as you ripped the flap open and pulled out the paper. You began to read:

Ma Belle,

Happy 7th year Anniversary! Can you believe it has been seven years we’ve been together? It feels so amazing. I’m sorry you had to read this through a letter, but I feel like writing it out conveyed my feelings better than when I just wing it. So, I hope you prepare yourself because this is going to be a ride full of cheese and cringe.

I remember our first date here. It was very cheesy and seemed too extravagant for a first date, but we have known each other for a few months before I asked you out, so I call it a success. Anyway, I’ll never forget the look on your face when you saw the little fairy lights light up just at the snap of my finger. You said it looked like fireflies and reminded you of Princess and the Frog. Anyway, getting back to the point, the point is, this little lake holds a place in my heart because it was all those months of me silently pining after you to finally be able to take you here, it made me realize that I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

Oh! Which reminds me of our first here, when we danced to the soundtrack of the movie. It’s random, I know but I don’t think you remember that. You probably won’t remember me proposing to you either, would you? Turn around Ma Belle :)

You slowly turned around, the blanket and picnic table gone, all that’s left in front of you is Vernon down on one knee holding up a small box displaying a beautiful ring. The arm holding the letter drops, your free hand coming up to slightly cover your mouth now agape. From his shaky hands to his beaming smile, the love you had for the man in front of you intensified.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, “So, do you remember now?” The water in your eyes that have been threatening to spill finally let go as you nodded your head, “Ma Belle~” That damn grin on his face made your knees shake, “Will you be my Evangeline and marry me?” Your legs collapsed, your knees hitting the grass as you hugged Vernon tightly, whispering ‘Yes’ into his ear.

The amount of love you felt in your heart took over as you cried silently against him. He pulled away, laughing softly as he wiped your tears and brought your hand up, slipping the ring onto your ring finger. “Hansol Vernon Chwe, no wonder you wanted to open my gift first.”

He shrugged, looking into your eyes with that same teary smile before leaning in and placing a soft yet meaningful kiss on your lips. In that magical moment, you knew that this is all for you; he is all for you and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#caratwritersclub #newskynet #seventeen #seventeen oneshot #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabbles #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen au #vernon #vernon chwe #svt vernon #pieces of love #HAPPY VERNON DAY #HAPPY SEOKMIN DAY

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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

Text

A Long Night

Bishop Losa x Reader

This one is gonna have spoilers for Season 1, Episode 8 for anyone who is still working their way through the show. Just wanted to give a heads-up. xo

Request from my fave Bishop fan @masterlistforimagines: You know how sad and upset Bishop was because Alvarez decided to take the position for Galindo? I was thinking about Bishop cutting the party earlier and coming home to you after. Like imagine seeing Bishop so upset (which I feel like would be weird because he doesn’t seem like he would be sad often). Maybe even this is the first time his girl had ever seen him this upset maybe? Idk. And trying to cheer him up. Just a fluff request

Warnings: Bishop being a Sad Boy

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Writing sad Bishop was heartbreaking but we’re here to make him feel better so it all evens out. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Bish Taglist: @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @sillygoose6969 @queenbeered @louisianalady @gemini0410

You were curled up on the couch, a few sips left in your glass of wine while you caught up on your favorite show. You enjoyed the nights that you had to yourself at home, not that you didn’t love Bishop, but every now and then you just didn’t have it in you to make it to the clubhouse parties. And, from what Bishop was telling you earlier in the week, this one was going to be a doozy. So instead you decided to take the night for yourself to recharge, and that was something that he completely understood.

You heard the sound of a key in the lock on your front door. You looked down at the time on your phone, confused. The only other person with a key was Bishop, and it was far too early for him to be coming home from the party. There were times when he didn’t come back home until the next morning, so seeing as how it was only 10:30 it didn’t make much sense.

The door opened and sure enough, Bishop walked in. You reached for the remote and paused your show as soon as you saw the look on his face. You thought hard for a moment, and you realized that you had never seen him sad like this before. You’d seen him angry, and maybe even a little upset, but he looked heartbroken, and worry instantly flooded your mind.

“Hey, you okay?” you stood up and crossed the room to hug him, pressing your face against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around you, resting his head against yours. It was the first time you had ever felt him lean his weight onto you. He sighed, “It’s been a long night, sweetheart.”

“Come, sit, talk to me,” you pulled him towards the couch. He sat down on the cushion next to you and leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling. You reached over and put your hands over his, “What happened?”

“Marcus,” you could see the tears starting to gather in his eyes.

Your heart dropped, “Is he okay? Did something happen?”

He shook his head, still not able to make eye contact with you as he fought the urge to let the tears spill over, “He, uh,” he tried to take a deep breath to steady himself and his words, “He turned in his kutte,” he shook his head, “He left the club.”

Your eyes grew wide, “Wh-what?”

You knew that there wouldn’t be the Mayans MC without Marcus. The club was his life, and it was his life’s work. Him stepping down and leaving completely didn’t make any sense to you, and from the look on Bishop’s face, he was having a hard time grasping the idea as well.

“Took a position with Galindo,” he sniffed, “He’s their new consejero. Said that he wouldn’t be able to do both and that this was the right move for him and for the club.”

Your chest felt heavy as you processed what Bishop told you. It hurt to see him so torn up like this, “Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” you pulled him closer to you, “Come here.”

Instead of being pulled into you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you so that you were on his lap, straddling him as he faced you. He buried his face into the crook of your neck. You took a deep breath as you cradled the back of his head in your hand, placing a soft kiss on his temple. A few minutes passed with neither of you saying anything, and you squeezed him a little tighter when you felt his tears wet your neck.

“I wouldn’t even be in the club if it weren’t for him,” he finally broke the silence, not lifting his head and wrapping his arms a little tighter around your waist as he did.

You gently carded your fingers through his hair, “I know.”

He finally pulled away and looked you in the eyes, “I, I don’t know what we’re gonna do. I don’t know what I’m gonna tell the guys.”

You thumbed the tears off of his cheeks before gently cupping his face in both your hands. You felt him lean into your touch as he closed his eyes for a moment. “You’re going to keep being the same amazing man,” you placed a kiss on his forehead, “and president,” you kissed his cheek, “that you have been all these years. That isn’t going to change going forward,” you let your hands drop so that they were resting on his shoulders, “I’m sorry that he’s stepping down—I know how much love you guys have for each other and for the club. I know it’s heartbreaking.”

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, “I never thought that this was even a possibility.”

You traced your fingers along his cheekbone, trying to provide any subtle comfort that you could, “I know. But he’s not gone. He’s still your family, Obispo. That’s not ever going to change.”

He nodded slightly as he hooked his fingers lightly into the waistband of your sweats, “I know,” he pulled back slightly so he could look you in the eyes, “I’m sorry I came home and just put all of this on you.”

You smiled and shook your head before kissing him softly on the lips, “Don’t apologize. You can always come to me, no matter what it is. I’m here for you, always.”

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tight against him, “I love you.”

You melted into him as he ran his hand up and down your back, “I love you too.”

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, and you could tell that he was soaking up the comfort and security of being home with you. There weren’t many things in his life that he could count on to be consistent, and he just lost another thing, but he knew that he’d always have you. He took a deep breath, keeping his arms around you as he sank farther back into the couch. His eyes were closed as he focused on your breathing, on the feeling of your heartbeat against his chest.

“Why don’t you go shower and get changed?” you said, your head still resting against him, “Get comfy now that you’re home for the night.”

He pressed his lips against your forehead, “Okay.”

You pulled back slightly, “Go shower, and I’ll get us both some wine, and some popcorn, and ice cream,” you smiled as you lightly brushed your nose against his, “You’ll learn why I go all out when I’m feeling sad.”

For the first time all night you saw a smile creep across his face. It was a small one, but it was a start, “We gonna watch a sappy movie, too?”

You laughed, “Of course. It’s part of the whole experience,” you hopped off his lap and got off the couch, holding your hands out to help him do the same.

He shook his head slightly as he let you pull him up off the couch. He wrapped you in a tight hug, peppering the top of your head with kisses, “I love you so much.”

You smiled into his chest, “I love you too,” you pulled back and rested your hand on his cheek, “It’s gonna be okay, you know. Everything is gonna work out.”

He turned and pressed a kiss into your palm, “Thank you. You’re perfect.”

You kissed him, “I get it from my boyfriend,” you nudged him towards the bathroom, “Now go shower so I can get your snacks ready.”

He smiled and shook his head as he turned and walked down the hall. Before disappearing into the bathroom he turned and caught one last look at you as you tossed popcorn into the microwave. Despite the heaviness in his chest he smiled, knowing that one thing in his life was always going to work out right.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #bishop losa #bishop x reader #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa x you #obispo losa #obispo losa x reader #obispo losa imagine #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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nsr-junction · 4 years ago

Note

oh i'd love a short onionshipping drabble of rin and zuke being stupid together. maybe some shenanigans in baracca mansion?

Wooo! Thank you so much for the request! I had a lot of fun with this one!

Here’s a short all about Rin just being a big ol’ smitten dumbass

———

Bright white lights shone through the hallways of Barraca mansion, right before a robotic figure came running down. Rin turned a corner and found himself in the kitchen.

Just his luck, Haym was still there microwaving a glass of milk for himself as he usually did around this time at night.

“Yo, Haym!!” Rin started, perhaps a bit too passionately, as Haym jumped.

“Oh gosh! Rin!” Haym put a hand against his chest. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Sorry! I just really need your opinion on something!” Rin quickly pulled out his phone and showed his brother the screen. “Look! Zuke texted me! What should I say!?”

“Well… read the text to me!”

“NO!” Rin pulled his phone against his chest in defence. “Do you just open fan mail!?”

“Uh… yeah-“

“NO! You savour it! You have to judge what’s on the inside by the envelope, the handwriting, the SMELL! You have to think of what to reply before you even read it! It’s part of the whole experience!!”

Before Haym could confuse himself any further by trying to figure out his brother’s logic, his attention was pulled to the microwave beeping.

“My milk’s done, so uhh… Just tell him how much you love him! Call him cute names, like ‘Teddy Bear’ and stuff.”

“That’s… cute!” Rin watched as Haym took his milk and walked to bed. He sat alone in the kitchen for a moment, not quite satisfied with his brother’s advice.

A new idea popped into Rin‘s head. “Purl-Hew!” He figured that the self proclaimed ‘King of Cool’ would have some valuable input.

———

“Purl-Hew, Purl-Hew, Purl-Hew, Purl-Hew!” Rin pounded at his brother’s bedroom door until it was opened.

“Someone better have died, I need my beauty sleep.” Purl-Hew leaned against the doorframe. His sleep mask was barely pulled over his eyes as he waited for Rin to state his business so he could leave him alone.

“Zuke texted me!”

Without a word, Purl-Hew slammed his door closed.

“I need help with the response, and you’re the coolest guy I know!”

After a moment, Purl-Hew’s door slowly opened again. “I’m listening…”

“What do I respond!?”

“Well, what did he send you?”

“I can’t read it yet!! The whole point of the letter experience is-“

“Okay, okay. I don’t have time for any tangents. Just… play it cool, I guess. Tell him ‘What’s up’, that usually works.” Purl-Hew slowly closed his door, hoping Rin would take the hint and leave.

“But what if-“

“GOODNIGHT!” Purl-Hew slammed his door once more, this time with no intention of opening it again for the night.

A ping sounded from Rin’s phone, and he slid down the wall to the floor. “Craaaaaaaaap…” It was another text from Zuke. “What do I do…”

Another idea popped into Rin’s head. “Zimelu! He’s responded to a lot of messages on the internet, he’d know what to do!”

———

Music blasted from the other end of Zimelu’s bedroom door. Knocking seemed to be out of the question, so Rin invited himself in.

“Yo! Zim!” Rin tried to shout over the music, but Zimelu only turned the volume up.

“Zim- hey!” Rin ran to his brother’s speakers, and yanked their cords out of the wall.

“What the hell, dude!?” Zimelu finally acknowledged the other being in his presence. “I was trying to sleep!!”

“You!… You fall asleep to loud music?”

“You don’t?”

“Okay, Uh…” Rin regained his train of thought. “I need your help with something, Zuke texted me-“

“Congratu-freakin’-lations, can you plug in my speakers now?” Zimelu leaned back into his bed while tapping his fingers on his leg.

“I have no idea how to respond!”

“Oooohh.” Zimelu sat up to get a better look at his brother. “You’re doing that stupid thing where you think of a response before you read the message?”

“It’s not stupid!” Rin crossed his arms. “It’s thoughtful and romantic!”

“Whatever you say, buddy.” Zimelu rolled his eyes. “Okay, what you want to do is respond with a ‘hey’, then wait half an hour until you respond. Shows the right amount of ‘care but don’t care’”.

“Isn’t that a little mean?” Rin tilted his head to the side.

“Didn’t you come to ME for MY advice? Now plug in my speakers.”

With a sigh, Rin shoved the cords back into their outlets and left.

Yet another ping sounded from Rin’s phone, and he groaned. “Damnit, who can I ask now? Dad doesn’t want us disturbing him at night…”

A final idea popped into Rin’s head. He was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but he didn’t have much choice.

———

“Hey! Eloni!” As Rin called for his brother, a loud thud sounded from the other side of the door.

“…Loni…”

In a moment, Eloni quickly stepped out of his room and closed the door behind him. “What do you want!? I’m busy!”

“Geez, I can just go.” Rin turned his back, but Eloni jumped to grab his shoulder and turn him back around.

“Wait wait! You already got here, so-“ Before Eloni could process his feelings, his bedroom door slammed open from an apparent draft. A packed bag sat on his bed, and his window was wide open.

“Are you-“

“LOOK!” Eloni interrupted. “Don’t tell dad about this, and I’ll do whatever you want.

Rin weighed his options, but decided to turn a blind eye to Eloni’s apparent escape for the time being. “I need your help, Zuke texted me, and I don’t know what to respond!”

“Zuke, huh?” Eloni smirked, much to Rin’s distaste.

“Eloni, I swear to god! This isn’t time for an awful pun!”

“No pun, dear brother.” Eloni sauntered into his room, his smirk never leaving his face, and he grabbed his bag. “I think you should respond with ‘Sorry for making you wait out in the cold for so long’”

As Eloni slipped out of the window, Rin’s mechanical heart skipped a beat. CRAP CRAP CRAP!! He had forgotten that Zuke was coming over for the night.

Without minding how loud he was, Rin ran down the stairs and swung open the front door as fast as he could. Zuke was there, sitting on a curb with his bag on his lap, resting his chin on it.

“I’M SO SORRY!!” Zuke jumped up at Rin’s sudden exclamation, and couldn’t manage to get a word in before Rin tackled him to the ground in a hug. “It was so stupid of me! I can’t believe I forgot! I just wanted to respond to your text romantically, and think , and-“

Hey! Hey!” Zuke chuckled, and helped the other to his feet. “It’s okay. I’ve done the same, man.”

“Really?” Rin smiled, relieved that Zuke wasn’t angry at him.

“Yeah, I’ve forgotten about performances before just because I was practising the drums!”

They both laughed, and made their way inside.

“Oh god, you must be so cold!” Panic began to set in on Rin’s face once more.

“No, really, it’s okay. I-“

“NONSENSE!!” Before Zuke could finish his sentence, Rin scooped him up. “My darling ideal boyfriend will only be treated to the best within the walls of Barraca Mansion!”

“O-okay…” Zuke blushed, and buried his face into Rin’s chest.

#no straight roads #nsr #fanfic #nsr fic #1010 #nsr rin #nsr haym #nsr purl hew #nsr zimelu #nsr eloni #onionshipping #nsr Zuke #himbo Rin rights #long post

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eldritchqueerture · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 7: Threads

Hello! Long time no see! The delay was unplanned and I'm sorry about that. I had an idea in the meantime to add more fluff chapters before shit starts to go down but then I couldn't get to writing them while telling myself that I will write them eventually, and then I had other ideas, and I was writing for Summer in the Archives, and so we are where we are. I decided to just keep posting what I have and if I do feel like adding fluff that would be happening in the meantime then I will just make a separate work in the series. I'm aiming to go back to my weekly schedule (haha), so I hope I can get the next chapter out next Friday. As always, please leave me a comment or come yell at me here on tumblr, it always brightens my day and keeps my motivation up! Enjoy <3

Martin looks at Jon’s sleeping face and thoughts swirl inside his head like tendrils of the mist that has been following him, tendrils that meet in one specific place – his feelings for him. He’s not proud of the fact that this is where his thoughts end up turning every time he thinks about Jon, considering the severity of the situation Sasha explained to him, but he cannot help wondering – despite his better judgement – if Jon doesn’t share them. He replays the worry in his brown eyes, the tight hugs, always ensuring he’s there, safe, and whole… He might be adding meaning to otherwise ordinary actions, of course, but he can allow himself to hope, for when that hope sparks inside him, the fog withdraws.

Jon is wrapped in a blanket on the cot in the storage room, where Martin has laid him. They found him sleeping on the desk in his office, his eyes all red-rimmed and puffed up; they didn’t comment on it. Martin carried him to the storage room and placed his glasses nearby. Tim went to take Sasha home, so she can get some rest, too, and was supposed to come back with lunch; the events of the morning are laying heavy on all of them and have left them quite hungry.

Martin closes the door to the storage room and comes back to his desk. Working seems a bit pointless when you know that your boss is scheming an apocalypse somewhere behind your back and you can’t quit the job, but he finds himself needing a distraction, so he opens up his computer to do some follow up research on Jason North and the alleged ritual site he found in the middle of a Scottish forest. Martin’s never been good with research, not like Sasha, so he soon stumbles upon a dead end. He ends up researching pictures for Scottish forests and cottages, and he daydreams, with his poem notebook by his side. How nice would it be to just move to Scotland, to a cottage like that and forget everything. Grow your own vegetables and herbs, welcome the sun every morning with a cup of tea; go down to the town for some groceries, meet some good cows; and maybe Jon is there with him, and he finally gets through to his head that he shouldn’t make tea in the microwave, and they cuddle on the couch while reading—

“’scuse us,” comes a deep voice and Martin looks up, startled, to find two delivery men standing there, in the Archives, with a big package next to them.

“Looking for the Archivist,” the other man says, but Martin figures that just because the voice is coming from a slightly different direction. They sound exactly the same; he finds they look similar, too. Their clothes are identical; they’re different makes and all but somehow, he can’t tell these two men apart. There’s… something off to them.

“Sorry, are you two meant—” Martin blinks, but one of them interrupts him.

“Won’t take up your time.”

“Just got a delivery.”

Martin opens his mouth, trying to process the fact that they seem to be two parts of the same whole. He wouldn’t be able to explain this thought if asked, but this is what runs through his head.

“Look, you really can’t actually—”

“Package for Jonathan Sims.”

“Says right here.”

He looks and yes, there, on the package, says ‘Jonathan Sims’ in a very ordinary, unassuming writing. He glances over at the door to the storage room and back at the two men.

“Well, he’s not—”

“We’ll just leave it with you.”

“Be sure he gets it.”

Martin struggles for words.

“Okay, I will, but you really have to actually—”

“’course. Much obliged.”

“Stay safe.”

“I’ll… try?” He responds with the first thing that goes into his head.

“Your recorder’s on, by the way.”

“Might wanna change that.”

Martin looks at his desk and he notices a tape whirring steadily in the recorder.

“Oh… so it is. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“At all.”

They both turn as one and leave Martin, the recorder, and the package alone. He hums, looking from one to the other and back.

“Well, I know for a fact that I did not turn you on,” Martin speaks to the recorder. “Maybe Tim felt in a mood for a prank. It is April Fool’s after all,” he huffs out a laugh. “Would be his style to do something, even with… all this happening.”

He stops the recording and turns to the package; before he can do anything else, though, the recorder clicks itself back on. Martin gives it a sideways look and his heart picks up the pace. He frowns and clicks stop again. One second. Two. There; it clicks the red button on its own.

Martin stands up and takes a step back.

“What the hell,” he breathes out.

Suddenly he hears a familiar laugh from the top of the stairs and energetic steps running down. Tim emerges from the doorway and gives him a surprised look.

“You okay, Marto?” He asks and places a paper bag on his desk, then points his chin at the package. “What’s that?”

“Uh…” Martin collects himself in a second. “Two delivery men just came by. It’s for Jon, apparently.”

Tim places a second paper bag and his coffee cup on his desk and walks around the package.

“No sender. Interesting.” He strokes his chin and looks at Martin with a grin. “We should open it.”

“Tim!”

“Look, boss is asleep, the package came to the Archives and not to his house, how private can it be?” Tim throws his arms up but seems to be watching Martin’s reaction more carefully. He doesn’t look very bothered, Tim assesses; he seems to be equally interested in the contents. He sighs and tosses him a letter opener.

“Fine, but you’re taking the blame,” Martin rolls his eyes with mock exasperation, and Tim’s grin gets wider.

“That’s the spirit!” He cuts the tape at the corners and opens the packaging to reveal an old wooden table; there’s a hole in the centre, Tim reckons about six inches square, and its surface is covered in intricate patterns resembling optical illusions. He frowns at it. “Huh. A table. Why would Jon…” He trails off as his eyes follow the hypnotizing patterns. “Interesting…”

Martin watches as Tim drops the letter knife to the floor, enraptured by the table. He wants to say something, to call out his name, but the fog from the edges of his vision spills out at the sight of the table and it blocks out the world; Martin stops feeling the chair underneath him and finds himself stranded in a sea of grey, thick fog.

“Tim? Tim!” He calls out but there’s no answer. There would be no answer, ever; he’s all alone here.

—

Jon wakes up to a nagging feeling that something is wrong. He blinks, trying to get rid of the sleep weighing heavily on his eyelids and gathers his bearings. He realizes he’s on the cot in the storage room, a blanket thrown to the floor next to him. He still feels too hot, and he takes off his sweater vest. What’s this feeling, gently pricking at the back of his mind?

He gets up, wobbly as he feels, and makes his way to the door. As he opens it, a voice makes its way to his ears.

“…friend mentioned poetry?” Jon squints his eyes, as light reaches him, yet he immediately recognizes the voice.

“…Gerry?” He asks and blinks – yes, he can make out the thin and long figure dressed in black, sitting on top of Tim’s desk. Tim is there too, leaning against Martin’s desk in front of Gerry, and Martin sits in the chair, his cheeks coloured just a little with faint pink. They all turn to him with surprise when he emerges. He can feel tension in the room, and he acknowledges the presence of something that looks like a table covered with a blanket in the middle of the room; the nagging in his mind grows into anxiety. “Something happened.”

“God, Jon, did we wake you up?” Martin jumps up to him with genuine worry and Jon smiles slightly, as he shakes his head.

“No.” He blinks again, to chase away the sleep and looks at Gerry and his inscrutable expression. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching a zombie rise from the dead, apparently.” Gerry gets down from the desk and crosses his arms. “Also saving the lives of his assistants by accident. I know you said you’re a mess but good God.”

Jon frowns with worry.

“Gerry, I’m serious.”

Something in Gerry’s demeanour changes as he sighs, and his expression clears.

“Well, I wanted to tell you that I’m in,” he says. “Whatever your crazy plan is, if you even have one, I want to hear it or help you make it; you weren’t picking up your phone, so I decided to come, pay you a visit.” He glances towards the table and his eyes cloud with a shadow. “And it turns out it’s good that I did.”

“What is this?” Jon walks over to the table and three pairs of hands shoot out to stop him. Gerry’s touch lingers comfortably, because apparently that’s what he does, and Jon isn’t so sure he minds it.

“An old table, with weird, hypnotizing patterns,” Tim says, and Jon detects a tinge of guilt in his voice.

“Did it have a hole in the middle?” He asks urgently and Tim nods.

“We need to get rid of it,” Jon looks in the direction of the stairs. “Put it in the Artifact Storage and make sure it’s covered.”

“Are you familiar with it?” Martin asks and Jon nods.

“Amy Patel case; the one where a person got replaced. Why would they—” Jon’s face falls and he turns to Martin and Tim. “Who delivered it?”

“It was two delivery men, really big, quite intimidating, but—uh, now that I think about it I can’t remember what they looked like…”

“Shit,” Jon sighs and rubs his face. “Okay, we really do need a plan.” He looks over their faces and his eyes stop at Martin’s disgruntled expression. “What is it?”

“What you need is rest,” he crosses his arms. “You pulled an all-nighter with Sasha, and you haven’t even slept for two hours now.”

“You do look like shit,” Gerry offers his insight and Jon fixes him with a glare.

“I can’t protect you when I’m asleep,” he says and looks pointedly at the table. “Clearly. Tell me wha—” He stops when Gerry squeezes his arm sharply. He takes note of the static in the air and clears his throat. “I want to know what happened.”

Tim sighs.

“Alright, it is kinda my fault,” he admits looking away. “I insisted on opening your package to see what’s inside. But in my defence, I thought it would be something funny; at least a bit humiliating for you, and we could laugh it off. The mood’s been horrible lately,” he grimaces. “The lines kind of… hypnotized me. I couldn’t look away and I started getting lost in them. It… It felt like being trapped in a web; the more I struggled to look away, the harder it was. I don’t know how much time had passed before your resident goth intervened. Then I came back to myself and Martin… he was grey again.”

Jon glances worriedly at Martin, who starts fidgeting with his fingers.

“I didn’t think you guys could see that,” he confesses. “It’s… it’s that fog you mentioned,” he says to Jon who nods, his lips pressed together. “It was… stronger this time.”

“He was a step from disappearing,” Gerry says, looking at Jon curiously. “I thought you guys were new here.”

“We are,” Tim says, looking at Jon pointedly. “You said you know why that happens.”

“I did,” Jon sighs and leans against the desk, next to Gerry. “I’m—Martin, I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

Martin looks away and he mutters something along the lines of “don’t worry about it”.

“The fog is… another one of the fears; called The Lonely or The Forsaken,” Jon says, looking somewhere into space. “It’s the fear that you’re all alone, that you can’t connect with anyone. Martin…” He exhales. “I have reasons to believe that your connection to the Lonely might have appeared in this… reality, along with my memories.” He finally looks up at Martin; there are no emotions on his face. “When did the fog first appear?”

“S-Sometime when I got transferred into the Archives,” he nods. “I thought it was just anxiety, but… y-yeah, it makes sense, I suppose.”

“You still don’t remember what you did to end up here?” Gerry asks and Jon shakes his head; Gerry clicks his tongue.

“So, what do we do now?” Tim looks at Jon. “What is Elias’ plan?”

“I…” He rubs his forehead. “I don’t remember exactly. I…” He trails off looking at them. They are waiting for him to tell them what to do. Martin, with colour in his eyes and something else there, something Jon doesn’t let himself think about; Tim, whom he hasn’t hurt yet, who still has hope and who isn’t filled with bitter anger and sorrow; and Gerry who’s alive, here with him, offering his help. Jon thinks about Sasha, the real Sasha who’s still there. He can’t protect them all from other Entities and Elias. Even with all of his knowledge, Elias still has more power here than him, and Jon sees that his threats weren’t a bluff. Jon deflates with a sigh. “We need to know if there’s a way to fill the tunnels with CO2 before the Hive attacks; and I need the table sealed shut - it’s not getting anyone this time. Other than that, I think we need to work the statements, like before.”

“Are you kidding?” Tim raises his eyebrows. “Elias is serving an Eye power and not letting us leave, and I’m supposed to still work for him?”

Jon swallows.

“Elias… He’s dangerous. Even with everything I know, he can still hurt us. I’m not risking an open war with him.”

“What is he gonna do, kill us?” Tim scoffs but he goes quiet when Jon gives him a hard stare. “Fuck off.”

“Murder isn’t usually his style of dealing with things, he generally prefers threats and blackmail, but he can definitely do that, too,” Jon says. “Let’s just say we don’t want to piss him off more than is necessary.”

“You literally punched him in the face today.”

“Yes, I know.” Jon grits his teeth and looks away. Tim narrows his eyes.

“He threatened you, didn’t he?” He asks and takes a step towards Jon. “What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jon says coldly. “We need to get back to work.”

“Oh, no, you’re going back home and getting some sleep,” Martin shakes his head. “Or we refuse to work.”

Jon groans but Gerry places a hand on his shoulder.

“Go, Jon, I’ll keep an eye on them,” he promises and after a second of searching his face, Jon gives in.

“Fine. Be careful.”

“You, too,” Martin says and hands him the paper bag from his desk. “Eat this.”

Jon gives him a grateful smile and, with a last look at them, walks to the stairs and climbs up.

—

Gerry Delano sits comfortably on a park bench with a cup of coffee in his hand and sips on it slowly; he thinks about the things the new Archivist – Jon – said to him this morning. He looked tired; the bags under his eyes, the messy hair, the absolutely horrendous smoking habit (at that Gerry just chuckles to himself) and the clean but messy clothes speak for themselves, and Gerry didn’t want to say it, obviously, but it was this entire image of an absolute mess of a confused man that made him believe him. The marks are curious, yes, but Gerry has seen many things which he doesn’t understand, and he’s okay with that. No, this man is clearly in need of support and if he’s really taken over for Gertrude (and, judging by the sheer amount of his energy just screamingBeholding, that was very probable), he is in for one hell of a ride.

If Gerry would have to describe his perfect life, with his mother and Gertrude gone, he’d probably say he wants to find a normal job and get some peace and quiet; that being said, he did try that as a teenager, running away from his mother and her life. He told himself then that he didn’t belong in the normal world and would always find his way back to his mother. He abandoned that dream for a while, until Gertrude offered to help him get rid of his mother’s ghost. He thought that maybe if he helped Gertrude for a while, burned some Leitners in the meantime, maybe he’d have enough and manage to build a life that didn’t always border on getting killed by something supernatural; and so his life went on and he never really grew to feel at home in the “normal” world. He’d about accepted the fact that he’ll probably die on the job with the old Archivist, and he wasn’t very surprised to find how quickly he accepted it. It seemed fitting; much more so than getting a job at a coffee shop or other, and just living among people who had no idea what’s really out there. Then he got shot in Pittsburgh – a Slaughter case he’d tried to prevent – and he was forced to stay behind in the hospital. In some fleeting moments of consciousness he saw Gertrude holding the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead and he prepared himself to wake up as a ghost any time; instead, he woke up to an empty hospital room and a note in her handwriting – “Build your life here. Stay safe.” He thought if this weren’t his chance to build the life he’d imagined for himself then it would never come; and he was right. He soon discovered that making friends is way too difficult when you’re able to tell which Fear Entity marked them in that supernatural encounter they’re too scared to talk about, and he returned to London, searching for Jurgen Leitner himself. He thought he found him, but he ended up beating up someone who turned out to just be some pathetic old man. And here he is, back in the world his mother dragged him into without his consent. Gerry sighs and takes another sip of his coffee. Maybe the universe simply needs a pyromaniacal, angry goth who did in fact end up in the business of helping strays.

He directs his thoughts back to Jonathan Sims and the Institute. They need to form a plan and Jon said he would fill his assistants in on at least the basics. He takes out his phone and checks the time – 1 PM. He rules that’s enough time to explain the basics of the metaphysical functioning of the Fear Powers in the world.

He finds his last messages and opens the one Jon sent at his request for contact saving purposes – “Here. – Jon Sims”. He’s a creative one, isn’t he? Gerry saves the number as Jon Archivist, then changes it to Jarchivist, and grins; then swipes to call.

No answer. He tries again and it still goes to voicemail.

Gerry shrugs and finishes his coffee. He burned his last Leitner in the alley just before he met Jon, so he doesn’t exactly have any new leads. He thinks he might as well pay the Archives a visit; it’s been a while since he was there last time, with Gertrude.

The street is quiet when he walks up to the building. The aura of Beholding is quite strong here already and he looks at the Latin words above the entrance. “I watch, I listen, I wait.” Tacky.

He comes inside and turns towards the stairs leading down. He’s not surprised when the lady at the reception calls out to him.

“I’m sorry, sir! Can I help you?”

Gerry turns to her. She’s a small Chinese woman with a bob cut and huge glasses; she smiles but Gerry can recognize a customer service smile when he sees one.

“Oh, actually, I’m a friend of Jonathan Sims, the, uh, Head Archivist. Saw him this morning, I promised I’d drop a few notes.”

“Notes?” She glances over at the papers at her desk. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Gerry Delano,” he tries to smile as she checks something.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I have you anywhere as a potential source—”

“Oh, that’s weird. I worked with the previous Head Archivist, Gertrude Robinson? Jon had a couple questions about her management style, you know how it is,” he waves his hand. “New job can be stressful.”

She looks over his clothes and tattoos with a frown for a second and then sighs.

“Alright, Jon’s office is right downstairs, through the Archives, Mr. Delano.”

“Thank you very much,” he nods his head and runs down the stairs.

Gerry doesn’t know what he expected to find down in the Archives, to be honest. Probably Jon being interrogated by his assistants, or maybe no one at all; he definitely did not expect to find one tall man staring into swirling patterns of a table that gave him very mixed signals of the Web, and another man in his desk chair, staring into space with a very unnaturally grey stare and his form dissipating into mist.

“Oh, I swear to God,” Gerry curses under his nose and looks around. “Can’t I meet people normally once in a blue moon?”

He picks up a blanket that lays stranded on the ground and covers the table. He then snaps his fingers in front of the tall man’s face and waves his hand.

“Hey, you still there?” He asks and the man draws in a breath, rapidly, and blinks, then looks around in confusion.

“Wh-Wha…” His eyes land on Gerry and he frowns. “Who are you?”

“Someone who just saved your ass from something nasty,” Gerry says, turns to the other man and touches his shoulder. Still there.

“Oh, God, his eyes are grey again.” The tall man grabs his shoulders and shakes him. “Martin? Martin!”

“How did he manage to go so deep into the Lonely with you there?” Gerry asks and moves to look inside the Head Archivist’s office. Empty.

“Into the what? Martin!” He shakes him again and Martin blinks and exhales but does not acknowledge him at all. “Do you know what’s happening to him?”

“Where’s Jon?” Gerry looks at the man sternly.

“Jo—who the hell are you?” The man exclaims. “We need to snap him out of it!”

“It’s not that easy.” Gerry rolls his eyes and looks through Martin’s desk. “What does he love?”

“What?” The man looks at him confused and Gerry stifles a groan of frustration.

“Martin. He needs an anchor, something that he loves that will bring him back here.”

The man’s eyes search the desk frantically.

“Come on!” Gerry rushes him and the man groans.

“Can he hear me?”

“Allegedly.”

“What does that mean?!” He looks at him pressingly.

“It means I don’t know!” Gerry grabs one of Martin’s hands. “He might, if he’s not too far gone.”

“Martin,” the man grabs Martin’s other hand. “Martin, think about tea. Poetry. Um, about—” He’s cut off by Gerry’s groan of frustration. “What?!”

“That won’t work,” he shakes his head. “He’s in the fogs of The Lonely; he thinks he’s alone and that it’s never gonna change; that he can’t ever make meaningful connections with other people.”

The man’s eyes move frantically as he puts something together in his brain.

“Martin,” he squeezes his hand again. “I’m here with you, you hear me? You’re not alone and Jon is here too, and Sasha will be here soon, and we will all be with you here because we are your friends, okay? We’re—” His voice catches when Martin’s grey gaze lands on his face. Gerry unknowingly nods for him to continue. “Look, I know you’re convinced that you’re no help here because of that fake resume that everyone pretends not to know about, but you’ve been such an amazing friend through these couple of months and—” he searches for words before continuing. “And I know you have feelings for Jon, and you need to think about him because if you ask me, he’s head over heels for you too, and you’re just too oblivious to realize, both of you,” he laughs and a tear streams down his face. “So you need to think about him because he needs you to be here and stay here, and we need you too, okay, Marto, we—we really do…” He inhales, as Martin squeezes his hand back and blinks. The man sighs deeply with relief and leans his forehead on their joined hands.

“Tim…?” Martin speaks up with a very gentle, detached voice and then his gaze lands on Gerry who has now let go of his hand and stands back up. “Who’s that?”

Tim looks up and wipes away another stray tear, then stands up to face him.

“Yeah,” he frowns. “That’s a good question.”

Gerry smirks and climbs up to sit at one of the desks.

“Seeing how I just might have saved your lives; I’d rather think some thanks are in order.”

“I’m not kidding, who the fuck are you?” Tim crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. Gerry notices he stares at his tattoos like he’s trying to remember something.

“Eh, fine.” He rolls his eyes. “Name’s Gerry Delano, but you may know me as Gerard Keay.”

Recognition flashes in Tim’s eyes.

“We had a statement about you!” He says and immediately frowns. “You killed a man.”

Gerry chuckles.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“What are you doing here?” Martin asks and Gerry crosses his legs.

“Waiting for Jon, actually. I thought I may find him here, but it appears I must have found his assistants, am I correct?”

“And you know Jon how?” Martin follows up; his voice gains a bit of depth to it, and he tilts his head, much more present than a second before.

“We met in an alley outside the Institute this morning,” Gerry shrugs. “Or, late night. Morning might be pushing it. He didn’t mention it?”

Tim sighs and rubs his face and Martin shakes his head.

“Eh, that’s fine. You two look like you have enough information to process for the next two months.”

“Something like that,” Tim nods and leans against Martin’s desk. “Jon’s getting some sleep and we’d rather have no one disturb him. It’s been a… hard morning.”

“He did look like he hasn’t slept in a week, I’ll give you that.” Gerry shoots a glance at Martin; his skin is regaining color, but his eyes are still unnaturally grey, and the edges of his form are blurry; the fog still lingers. “Hey, um… Martin?” He asks and Martin looks at him with surprise.

“Yeah…?”

“Just getting your names since you haven’t introduced yourselves. But that’s okay, I’m good at picking up from context.” He smiles and continues before Tim can speak. “So, Martin, what is it that you do here?”

“Uh… excuse me?” He blinks.

“I’m just interested, tell me what your usual day consists of. What do you do for fun? Your friend mentioned poetry?”

He notes the blush on Martin’s face with some satisfaction; the dark green colour returns to his eyes, though, still, his edges remain blurry. Martin can’t answer however; as he takes a breath, he’s interrupted by the door to the storage room opening.

Jon looks, frankly, even worse than he did before; in addition to everything aforementioned, his eyes are now puffed up from sleeping and he has apparently ditched his sweater vest, leaving only a creased, light blue shirt.

“…Gerry?” He frowns at him and takes in the room. “Something happened.”

“God, Jon, did we wake you up?” Martin shoots upright and the edges of his form become solid for a second. Just a second.

“No,” he shakes his head and blinks at Gerry. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching a zombie rise from the dead, apparently.” Gerry jumps down from the desk and crosses his arms. “Also saving the lives of his assistants by accident. I know you said you’re a mess but good God.”

“Gerry, I’m serious.” Jon gives him a look and Gerry sighs, but it’s a sigh of mock exasperation which hides only fondness. From the moment he learned Jon is the Head Archivist, he knew he would be a lot different than Gertrude; even if at first it was “this kid is a proper mess” contrasted with Gertrude’s calculated craft. He can see that what actually makes him different, better, is that he cares. Even though Beholding has him in its grasp far stronger than it ever had Gertrude, he has that spark of human empathy that she deemed an obstacle. He wouldn’t be the kind to sacrifice his own assistants to stop the Apocalypse, which maybe doesn’t give them big chances of success, but makes Gerry trust him. It makes him feel safer and it makes him stand stronger, and maybe that is exactly what is needed. And that one detail, that seriousness in his voice when he asks what happened to his assistants – to his friends – and the worry in his eyes when he checks if they’re okay, that’s what fully convinces Gerry that this man is worth his effort. If they can’t save the world with a strength like that then maybe no one really can.

—

Martin opens the door to Jon’s office to see the man reading something in a book. He looks up at Martin and his lips twitch towards a smile.

“Hello, Martin,” Jon says and immediately yawns. “God, sorry.”

“I was about to ask you if you’re still working.” Martin takes a look at his desk; there’s two empty mugs pushed to the side, a tape recorder (not recording), and some books and papers. Martin notices Jon’s glasses are still where he left them after he found them near the cot in the storage room. “You’re wearing contacts now?” He asks and Jon raises his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Well, I- I noticed you didn’t wear glasses today,” Martin shrugs and points his chin at them. “You forgot them yesterday.”

Jon’s eyes stop at the pair of glasses, and he frowns.

“Huh.” He rubs his chin. “Checks out, I guess.”

“What?” Now Martin frowns and Jon looks up at him, breathing in.

“The, uh—The Eye powers,” he grimaces. “This happened before too. I don’t—I don’t need them anymore.”

“Oh.” Martin shifts. “Well, I just wanted to tell you, you should get some rest. It’s—It’s late.”

Jon smiles fondly, staring into the air. Martin wonders what he's thinking about. Is he going back to memories he doesn't have?

“I really should, shouldn't I?” Jon asks no one in particular and sighs. “Thank you, Martin.”

“F-For what?” Martin laughs a little bit confused, and Jon looks at him for a moment before he shrugs.

“For caring. For being there.”

Martin looks away and shifts awkwardly again. Jon's stare, though gentle, is piercing; overbearing. Martin can't yet decide if it's good or bad, but it is certainly a lot.

“I should—”

“Could you—”

They start at the same time and look at each other. Jon shakes his head and gestures with his hand.

“Please, go first.”

Martin takes a deep breath.

“Could you tell me what—what it is that you want me to remember?”

Jon opens his mouth and closes it. His forehead ripples.

“I...” he begins and sighs, looking at his desk. “I don't think it was you. I mean—I think that... that it was a different version of you. In my past.” He looks up and his brown eyes are sad. “So it makes sense you can't remember because it never actually happened for you.”

Martin deflates with a little “oh” and looks down. The hole in his mind is settling nicely in the fog and he doesn't question it. Why would he? It was always there. He’s only lived this life, not anything else – if anybody would know it would be Jon. And obviously, it was a different Martin that Jon fell— That Jon cared for.

“Were we…” Martin stops, the word “together" left hanging in the air, and Jon looks at him for a second before something flashes in his eyes.

“We don't—I mean, I can't really— It's, it wasn't you so...”

‘I can’t really expect you to have the same feelings now’ is what Jon does not say, but Martin, of course, has no way of knowing that.

“Right,” Martin nods, and he can see Jon's cheeks blush, much the same as his own must right now. Martin swallows the awkwardness and nods again. “Alright, I'll, uh... I'll leave you to it. Then. Get—uh, get some rest.”

He closes the door and exhales deeply. Well, that was disastrous; he thinks, as he walks towards the document storage. There’s something heavy weighing down on his chest but he chooses not to dwell on it; it wouldn’t provide him with any insights he didn’t already know.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #tma oftm #jonmartin #niki.writes #new posting format because i have not heard of consistency in my life #we're back at it!!#also i promised myself that i would finish this #i Will Not abandon this #we are powering through #and we can Do this

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choerrypuffs · 5 years ago

Text

so this is love.

sleepy-euphoria said: If you don’t mind, could you write about Jaemin being super sleepy and wanting cuddles? Thank you! anonymous said: hi! can i request fluff w jaemin? like oc giving up their dessert for him even tho it’s their favorite but they’d much rather see him happy. lol i have no idea if that made any sense

pairing: boyfriend!jaemin x ceo!reader

genre: fluff!!! lots of it!!!! cheesiness galore!!!!!

word count: 1.6k

synopsis: you realize you’re in love in love with your boyfriend.

author’s note: these two requests gave me the same vibe so i combined them! anyways this is literally just a word vomit of me wishing i was jaemin’s gf so if you like at least a little bit of angst in your stories then this is not the one for you

You wonder what your past self from a year ago would think of you right now.

Twirling the fountain pen between your fingers, you stare at the clock on your desk, counting down the second you can get the hell out of this stuffy office. It’s currently 9:59 PM, and that forsaken minute feels like an hour. Your eyes are heavy with fatigue, and your back aches like you’re seventy-five. You just want to go home and be welcomed by Jaemin’s arms.

In the past, you would’ve had your nose buried in work until at least 2 AM.

The clock finally turns 10, and you sprint out of your office—nearly forgetting your coat and purse. Two security guards tip their hats at you as you run past them. You give them a quick wave, saying goodbye over your shoulder (though you’re not sure if they even hear you). You press the button for the elevator several times, as it that would quicken the process. The doors open with a ding, and you do the same thing with the floor button. You bite your lip impatiently, glancing down at your watch.

After the elevator arrives at the lobby and the doors open, you make another mad dash. Your heels click against the floor loudly, and you get strange stares from another pair of security guards. The cold air hits you like a wall when you go outside, but you barely even feel it. You wait for the pedestrian crossing light to turn green, but it takes too long so you look both ways to make sure there’s no cars and jog across the street.

The bakery still has its lights on, and you can see the workers inside cleaning up. Feeling like an asshole, you push the doors open. Panting, you say,

“Please give me a strawberry shortcake.”

The workers, rightfully so, look annoyed. They exchange glances before one of them pipes up and says, “Er, well, we’re sold out of cakes for the night. But we still have an individual slice of strawberry shortcake left.”

You nod quickly. “That’ll work.”

The worker nods and walks behind the counter, pulling the slice of strawberry shortcake out of the display. She wraps it up for you in a cute box, and you give her an extra tip because you feel bad. You promptly leave so they can finish cleaning up, staring at the box in your hand.

Did you really just sprint a mile and barge into a closed bakery just to buy your boyfriend some cake? For absolutely no reason other than the fact that he likes strawberry shortcake? You can’t help but laugh. The past you would’ve scoffed at things like this. The past you would’ve called present you an absolute fool for allowing yourself to be wrapped around a man’s finger.

Oh, how you wish past you could see this.

When you come home, Jaemin is asleep at the dinner table. He has one cheek against the table, and his mouth is slightly open. Your dinner is neatly set in front of him, wrapped in cellophane. This isn’t your first time coming home to the sight, but you’re still hit with a pang of guilt. Walking over to him, you kneel down so you can see his face more closely. Jaemin always looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping, unlike your fitful slumbers. His skin is smooth and dewy, like honey. His lips are the perfect, kissable rosy pink. He’s like an angel, and you wonder how someone so perfect could be yours. You brush his faded pink bangs out of his eyes and he begins to stir.

“I’m home,” you whisper.

Jaemin groggily mumbles, “Welcome home, my love.”

“If you’re tired, go sleep on the bed. Stop waiting up for me,” you scold gently. Not that he’s listened the first hundred times you’ve said it.

“Mm, I want to eat dinner with you,” he insists, shaking his head. He sits up, rubbing his eyes. You can’t even begin to describe how adorable he looks.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten yet,” you say incredulously.

He gives you a sheepishly smile, picking up a plate. “Here, let me heat this up.”

“Na Jaemin,” you say sternly.

He leans forward and gives you a small peck on the nose before getting up and microwaving your dinner. You sigh loudly. How did a CEO like yourself, whose main job is to give orders, fall in love with a man who never listens?

“What’s that, by the way?” he asks, nodding toward the box in your hand.

“I bought cake because I thought you ate dinner already,” you huff.

Jaemin’s face lights up, and his smile always takes away your breath like it’s the first time you’ve seen it. Your heart races like a schoolgirl, and your face turns the color of the strawberry on the cake. It makes you realize that you would’ve broken into that bakery if you needed to in order to get that cake for him.

He sits back down with the warmed food and two bowls. You tell him about your day and he listens, piling more and more food in your bowl without you noticing. You don’t know how hungry you are until you realize you’re stuffing your face like a vacuum cleaner. Jaemin has barely touched his food. Instead, he has his head propped up on the table with his elbow as he stares adoringly at you.

Clearing your throat, you bashfully look down at your food. “I-I’m full. Let’s have dessert.”

When Jaemin sees that you only have one slice, he frowns. “Why’d you only get a piece?”

“Well, I knew I was going to be full after dinner, so I just got a slice for you,” you lie.

He looks at you dubiously. “Really?”

“Yes,” you say, rolling your eyes. “If you don’t eat it, it’s just gonna get thrown away and that’ll waste my hard-earned money.”

He laughs. “Well then, don’t mind if I do.”

Whenever Jaemin eats his favorite sweets, he gets this sparkle in his eye. For someone as jaded as you are, it’s something that you’ve never experienced. There’s an innocence to it that you want to protect with all your might. You wonder how he managed to make himself so precious to you in such a short amount of time.

Jaemin catches you staring and smiles. He picks the strawberry off the top of the cake and gestures for you to open your mouth. In the past, you would’ve gagged at how cheesy the whole scenario was. But now, you happily let him pop the strawberry into your mouth. It tastes sweet, and you lick your lips. He leans across the table and steals another kiss, licking his own lips after.

The two of you talk for a little longer before Jaemin yawns loudly. He stretches like a cat before walking over to you and picking you up bridal style. You let out a small yelp. “What are you doing?”

“I’m so tired because I was up late waiting for my lovely girlfriend to get home,” he hums.

You snort. “This is early for me.”

“Let’s cuddle and go to sleep,” he says bluntly, opening the door to your shared bedroom and gently laying you down.

“At least let me shower and change into something more comfortable,” you protest.

Jaemin whines loudly, climbing on top of you and laying his head on your chest. His arms are wound tightly around your torso as he nuzzles closer to you. Without even realizing it, you begin to run your fingers through his hair.

“I love you,” he mumbles into your neck.

It finally hits you. It finally hits you that you love him too. You love him so much that you become putty in his hands whenever he so much as smiles at you. You love him so much that for the first time in your life, you think about something else more than work. You love him so much that you remember all the small things. You love him so much that you would do anything for him. You love him so much that you let him break down all of your walls.

“Jaemin,” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I think I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Jaemin sits up, bringing you up with him. Gently cupping your face, he stares at you like you have galaxies in your eyes. He stares at you like you came down from the heavens. He stares at you like you breathed life into him. He stares at you like he can’t live without you.

He pulls you close and kisses you sweetly. It’s soft and slow, but your head is spinning and your chest burns. Na Jaemin somehow always manages to take your breath away. When he leans back, your mind is blank. He takes both your hands into his own and kisses them.

“Let’s get married.”

The past you would’ve went on a tirade about how marriage only serves to tie a woman down.

The current you tells the past you to fuck off.

#neowritingsnet #ncitynetwork #cznnet #neocaratnet #nct scenarios #nct imagines #jaemin fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #jaemin #nct #choerrypuffs #requests

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cakesunflower · 5 years ago

Text

Who’s Gonna Love You Like Me? [Brother’s Best Friend!Calum AU] Part 4

A/N: hello friends! i hope wherever you’re reading this, you’re quarantined and staying healthy and safe! this is a tough time for all of us and if you or a loved one is feeling sick, i wish you a speedy and easy recovery! i hope this chapter or any of my writing provides you with even a little bit of distraction.

stay safe, stay healthy, stay inside y’all! and happy reading!!

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

When Josie pulled up to the driveway of the house during her hour long lunch break, she pursed her lips at the sight of the black Range Rover parked behind Luke’s car. Josie sighed, shutting the door of her car and jingling her keys in her hand as she walked through the threshold of the house, confused gaze immediately landing on a suitcase that was settled on the ground next to the couch.

“Luke?” Josie called, her voice traveling through the house as she wandered into the kitchen. She was in dire need of some leftover spaghetti—so much so that she made the trip back home just to eat some for her lunch break. “Oh, brother of mine—where you at?”

“Why are you yelling?” She heard Luke huff as she crouched down slightly to pull out the dish of spaghetti, straightening and shutting the door with her foot. Her brother stood at the entrance of the kitchen, blonde hair pulled back in a bun, looking unfairly comfortable in his lounge wear. Someone decided to skip work. “And what’re you doing home?”

Josie lifted the bowl to show him before settling it on the counter. As she moved around to grab a bowl and fork, she answered, “Needed sustenance. What’re you doing home?”

Luke crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow as he asked, “Didn’t you check my text?”

Scoffing dramatically as she shut the microwave to heat up her bowl, Josie faced her brother and returned, “I don’t check my texts at work or while I’m driving, Luke. I’m a responsible adult.” Sure, she remembered her phone buzzing with a text or two from him, but that didn’t necessarily mean she stopped what she was doing to check them.

He rolled his eyes, used to the playful sarcasm she’d become an expert on perfecting over the years. Fixing her with a pointed look, he said, “Calum’s moving in.”

What?

The air ceased from circulating in her lungs, prompting Josie to remain still where she stood as the smile she wore froze on her face. The beat of silence that passed between the two felt like an eternity in Josie’s ringing head, her grip on the counter behind her tightening as she forced herself to process Luke’s words quicker. Less time to make him feel suspicious as to why she was internally losing her goddamn mind. Her heart had picked up its pace, fast in the way it lodged itself in her throat as she blinked quickly.

“I—uh, why?” She hoped the smile on her face wasn’t as nervous as her voice sounded in her ears. “And where’s he gonna sleep? You don’t have another extra room.” The only spare bedroom was now hers.

Luke scratched his beard as he pushed himself off the wall, walking over to the bowl of fruit on the center counter he’d been eyeing earlier. He picked up a red apple as he informed Josie, “Something about a burst pipe? I don’t know, I told him he could stay with us. The couch’s a pull-out. It’s only temporary—he should be fine.”

Josie desperately wanted to ask why Ashton or Michael couldn’t house their friend, biting her tongue when she remembered Ashton only lived in a one bedroom apartment and Michael and Crystal were currently going through a very stressful move from their own apartment to a new house. Despite the lack of bed, Calum moving into Luke’s place was the most logical decision. Even if it had Josie’s heart racing out of pure guilt and nerves. How the hell was she supposed to keep her mind off of him when he would be sleeping down the fucking stairs? Josie had known moving to L.A. would significantly increase her chances of running into Calum—but in the living room? Fuck.

“Wait, shit—I should’ve asked you first, right? I mean, this is your place now too and, like, if you don’t want—”

Luke’s rambling broke Josie out of her guilt ridden thoughts—as did the sudden beeping of the microwave—and she blinked her wide eyes before interrupting her brother. “No, no, it’s fine,” Josie assured him with a gentle laugh, almost forced, as she quickly turned to take the bowl out of the microwave. Her nerves didn’t even allow her to acknowledge the hotness of the bowl burning her fingers before she set it down. She felt a pang ricochet through her chest at her brother’s sudden worry of not clearing with her if his friend could move in to his own home. As an attempt of covering up her guilt, nerves, whatever the fuck it may be, Josie added with a gentle laugh, “I thought I wouldn’t be caught in another sleepover with you and your boys after you moved out.”

Apparently that was enough to have Luke break out into a short bout of laughter, grinning around the red apple as he bit into it with a sharp crunch. Her brother winked at her, moving to leave the kitchen as he said, “You can’t escape us that easily, Jos.”

She could wish, though.

Rather than retreating to the living room or to the dining table, Josie hopped up on the couch, placing a small tray in her lap so the bottom of the hot bowl didn’t burn her lap as she twirled the pasta around her fork. Josie ate her lunch absently, able to vaguely hear the music playing upstairs and the two pairs of footsteps, not at all making a move to go up and see her brother and new temporary roommate.

Luke was only being a good friend by having Calum move in with them, but of course he wasn’t aware of the complication that tensed Josie’s muscles at the thought of Calum living with them. That being said, Calum knew. He knew first hand how awkward it could potentially get with the two of them being under the same roof—the last time they were, they’d crossed the line that had disappeared since. They were already around each other more than it was helpful; this temporary living arrangement wouldn’t be doing them any favors.

Letting out a sharp breath through her nose as she chewed, Josie’s shoulders slumped, disenchanted gaze casted down to her bowl. Was she overreacting? She couldn’t clearly tell and couldn’t bring it in herself to care. Looking her brother in the eye had become hard enough—now the reason for that was living with them. The universe seemed to be against her.

So lost in her thoughts, Josie hadn’t even been aware of the footsteps that were approaching until there was another person in the room, looking up to see the man who had consumed her thoughts lingering by the entrance. She looked up, sensing him before she even saw him, slowly swallowing the mouthful of pasta as her eyes met his dark ones. Calum didn’t say anything, didn’t try to. She recognized, wryly, the reluctance he wore on his face, lips pursed as they silently stared at one another.

Josie lifted her chin, raising an eyebrow as she repeated the same words he’d said to her on one of her first days in L.A., right here in this kitchen. “You could’ve given me a heads up.”

“Thought I’d return the favor of giving you a surprise,” Calum returned smoothly, moving further into the kitchen. He went to the fridge, which happened to be on Josie’s immediate left, given that she was sitting on the counter right by it. Josie’s expression dropped into a deadpan, and Calum scoffed as he opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer. As he uncapped it, he looked at her, letting out a sigh as a meaningful expression flashed across his face. “It’s only temporary. It’s not a big deal, Josie.”

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head. “Do you seriously believe that?” she challenged, not entirely satisfied by his statement. He didn’t even sound like he believed it, so how was he going to try and convince her otherwise?

Calum sighed sharply once more, facing the ceiling briefly—Josie fought the urge to eye at the expanse of his neck, at the way her lips had once felt on it—before looking down at her with a tired, almost bored expression. Calum spoke quickly, an irritated rasp in his voice as he retorted, “No, Jos, I don’t; but I can’t stay at Ash or Mike’s and I couldn’t give Luke a legit reason to deny his offer other than the fact that I fucked his sister.”

Her eyes grew wide, absently glad she didn’t have a mouthful of spaghetti she would’ve definitely choked on upon hearing Calum’s words. With her free hand, she smacked his arm, gaze darting towards both entrances of the kitchen, looking into the living room and towards the hall leading to the stairs in case Luke was anywhere near. Her heart had jumped in her throat, feeling a fire spark in the pit of her belly as Calum’s words resonated in her head.

“Are you serious?” she hissed, incredulous gaze on him as Calum rolled his dark eyes, taking a sip of the beer. No longer did he look as reluctant as he had when he first came into the kitchen, now adopting a demeanor too casual than the situation called for. He looked like he could care less about the situation, meanwhile Josie felt her heart pick up its pace. Whether it was at Calum so casually flinging around his words or at the reminder of a night she would never forget, Josie wasn’t sure. Most likely both. She shook her head at him. “Shut up—Luke might hear you.”

“He went to take a shower,” Calum informed, unfazed by the tension in Josie’s voice. She hated how calmly he stood there, and it only made her believe that she truly was overreacting over the whole situation. But she knew Calum—or, well, liked to think that she did—and she remembered the way he had looked so tense on the night of her welcoming party. If her being in the same city as him had his teeth grinding, Josie believed it was fair for her stomach to be in constant knots because of him staying in her house.

“Look, just—” Calum sighed once again, running a hand through his growing hair, resting it at the back of his neck as he looked at Josie. He dropped his hand to the side, offering a shrug. “Just relax, okay? It’ll be fine. You work during the day and I work at night so I doubt we’ll be seeing much of each other, okay? It’s only temporary.”

It’s only temporary. It was only that one time. The latter were words that echoed in the back of Josie’s head every time Calum came into view. She had a feeling the former would come back to bite her in the ass someday, somehow.

Her eyes met his once more, her lips pursed, and Calum did his best by offering a small smile before turning to leave the kitchen once more. Josie watched him, took in the delicious expanse of his back under the soft material of his red shirt, the tattoos on his arms feeling as though they were only there to make her want to trace them with her fingers. The black ink looked so pretty against his skin, art on art, and Josie hadn’t realized she’d been chewing on her lips until she parted them to speak up without much thought.

“You’re telling me you’re not the least bit worried?”

About this? About us? About Luke finding out and about everything falling apart all over again even though it was barely put back together?

Calum stopped, shoulders lifting briefly before he looked at her over his shoulder. He shook his head with a proper shrug of his shoulders, raising his eyebrows as he asked, “What’s there to be worried about? So long as we keep our mouths shut, we’re fine.”

Josie wanted to laugh at his words, giving an unconvinced tilt of her head and an almost sad raise of her own eyebrows. In that moment, Calum had become too good at masking his emotions, his thoughts, and she found the frustration gnawing at her when she couldn’t get a good read on what he truly thought. “You seriously don’t believe that, do you?” she still tried by asking.

Calum’s gaze averted, looking towards the wall to his right. With the view she had of his profile, Josie picked up on the way he clenched his jaw, the muscle jumping, sexy and tense and complicated. There was a heavy silence for a minute, the tension of their situation weighing them both down as Calum finally sighed. He shook his head, turning away from her as he continued his way out of the kitchen, not before answering, “I’m trying to.”

The three word answer Calum had given Josie sat with her for the rest of the day when she went back to work to finish her shift. She moved mechanically, an interested facade put up to please the clients she met with despite her head begging her to focus on something else—to focus on Calum and what he had said.

In the midst of washing and drying and cutting hair, Josie couldn’t shake it off. I’m trying to. He was trying to what? Believe that they would be fine? That everything would be okay? Did he think that things between the two of them would never be the same after what happened? The thought of it, the thought of her friendship with Calum getting knocked down several pegs, left an ache in Josie’s chest she couldn’t quite voice. Of course things would be different after the night they spent together in her dorm. You can’t just look at someone, much less a person who was your good, close friend, the same way after they gave your five mind blowing orgasms in one night.

Shit. Fuck, that was besides the point. Even if she couldn’t stop imagining the way he kissed her every time she caught him biting his lower lip, or feel her knees quiver as she remembered the way he carried her to her bed in the dorm. . .

God. Of course things wouldn’t be the same between them after that night. She wondered if Calum had to fight similar thoughts from infiltrating his mind, if he had to remind himself that he couldn’t be thinking about her the way she thought about him. At this point, though, what was the use? They’d already overstepped physically. Thoughts couldn’t hurt anyone.

Though they were torturous. And as Josie continued with her shift, they only settled heavily on her heart. Both of them knew sleeping together would fuck things up, but they went through with it anyway—because they were selfish. Because they’d only been thinking about themselves and their needs, not about their friends or her brother. They had just been chalked up as consequences they would have to deal with later, and later was now and Josie had no idea what to do. Maybe Calum had the right idea, to just try and pretend it was fine. Fake it til you make it, that sort of thing. They’d come this far, right?

Yet each step forward seemed to be harder than the last.

When she’d returned home from work, Josie was quick to rid herself of her makeup and change into her pajamas before collapsing on the bed, the softness of the mattress and pillows and cool blankets inviting. She didn’t quite remember when she fell asleep, but she did remember being pulled out of it in the middle of the night, hours later with a dry throat and desperate need for water.

Sleepily, she got up from her bed, bare feet padding towards the door as she pushed her blonde hair out of her face. As Josie made her way down the hallway towards the stairs, her eyebrows furrowed as a sound greeted her, distant but still in the house. Slowly, she made her way downstairs, and with each step she descended, the more distinct the sound became, recognizing it as uncomfortable grunts and huffs.

She walked into the kitchen, flipping on the stove light which was the dullest, and as she filled up a glass of water, her gaze wandered to the kitchen where the sounds kept coming from. Glass in hand, Josie stepped over to the entrance of the kitchen that opened into the living room, and with the dull light on the stove, she could make out Calum’s figure tossing and turning on the pullout mattress of the couch.

The grunts were coming from him, annoyed and uncomfortable, and Josie realized that as nice as the couch was to sit on, the mattress was probably not the same. She rolled her lips into her mouth, eyebrows drawing together at his clear discomfort. Aware of his schedule, Josie knew he probably got home from work about an hour or so ago, probably battling for a comfortable position since then, and before she had the chance to truly think about it, she was making her way into the living room and where he lay.

“Calum,” she spoke, her voice quiet as to not startle him, standing by the makeshift bed. “Hey.”

He stopped before sitting up, dark eyes meeting hers as he blinked in mild confusion at the sight of her. The blanket pooled at his lap, hands brace against the mattress and providing Josie with the sight of his biceps, in full view thanks to his muscle tee. She pushed back the image of when her nails had dug right into the muscle, of the feeling of his arms wrapped around her in something more intimate than a hug.

“Josie,” he frowned, tired and a bit puzzled. “You good?”

She fought the smile that threatened to upturn her lips. “I should be asking you that.” She eyed the mattress, raising an eyebrow. “Is it that uncomfortable?”

“Uh,” Calum paused with a slight chuckle, looking at what he was laying on as if he was seeing it for the first time. “Prison beds might be more comfortable.”

Josie pursed her lips. For all his money, Luke should invest in a better pullout. She gave herself a moment to consider her thoughts, knowing the danger of even thinking them, but she couldn’t just let Calum suffer through a night of terrible sleep. Things between them were weird, both of them trying to navigate through uncharted waters, but she couldn’t use that as an excuse to allow him to sleep on an uncomfortable bed.

“Come on—” she ticked her head towards the stairs before she psyched herself out of her decision. “My bed’s a lot comfier.”

Calum’s gaze met hers, saw something unknown settle in his features as he asked her, “You sure that’s a good idea?”

There was a burning in her cheeks, grip on her glass tightening as she forced her expression to remain neutral, not effected. “We’re just sleeping,” she told him, hating that she felt her voice waver as if she was trying to convince herself of the truth. That’s all they would be doing. Sleeping.

He hesitated for a moment, eyeing her from where he sat, and Josie merely looked back at him with an expectant raise of her eyebrows. Her head kept telling her it was a bad idea, but she told it to shut up. The worst thing she could’ve done had already taken place—she couldn’t let him sleep so uncomfortably after being behind a bar all night. Besides, it’d only be for tonight; tomorrow, she’d tell Calum to hint at Luke in getting a new couch, and if Luke found out his best friend had a shit night on his own couch, no doubt the blonde would buy another one.

When Calum finally let out a breath and got up, Josie took a step back, glancing down at herself as she rolled her lower lip into her mouth at the sight of her clothes. Her pajamas consisted of sleep shorts and an old softball shirt cut to be a crop top, and under the sudden weight of Calum’s gaze, Josie felt a bit too exposed in front of him.

As he stood before her, tall figure easily looming over hers and dark eyes traveling from her blue painted toes all the way to her eyes, Josie’s skin flushed as she told herself she was being ridiculous. He’d fucking seen her naked; she couldn’t get more exposed to that.

Breaking their gaze because the fluttering of her heart was becoming too much, Josie silently turned to head back up the stairs, Calum’s presence behind her one she couldn’t hope to ignore as they silently moved through the dark house. Their footsteps were light as they approached Josie’s room, though it wasn’t needed—Luke could sleep through an earth quake.

Her bedroom was dark, which Josie was grateful for as she went to the right side of the bed, setting her glass down as she sat on the edge and was all too aware of Calum moving around to the other side. Josie’s back was still to him as she felt the mattress shift underneath her because of his weight, and she played with the blanket as she eyed the wall ahead of her. The room was suffocatingly silent, one she really wanted to get rid of. She didn’t want to be weird in front of Calum—too late for that, the voice in her head mocked—but she couldn’t help it. And not for the first time, while Josie didn’t regret what they’d done, she did hate the tense aftermath of it all.

As if she was trying to somehow reassure herself, Josie didn’t look back at Calum as she asked, “This isn’t gonna be weird, is it?”

He was silent for only a second. “No. It’s fine if, y’know, you don’t think about what happened the last time we were in bed together.”

The casualness in which he spoke in had Josie huffing with a drop of her shoulders, bringing her legs up so she could lay on the bed, though she paused as she shot Calum a look. Even in the dark of her room, she saw the smirk curling at his lips as he copied her position. She had nothing substantial to say other than, “Literally, shut up,” through flushed cheeks as she dug her legs under the blanket. Calum merely snickered, feeling a lot more at ease than she was, and she narrowed her eyes when she caught him just staring at her. The amused playfulness danced in his eyes, shamelessly raking his gaze on her as he sat with his back agains the headboard, an easiness in his features Josie felt overwhelmed by. With a heat in her cheeks, she subtly wrestled with the blanket and told him, “Stop looking at me like that.”

Her words prompted a laugh from Calum, raising his eyebrows as he tilted his head almost challengingly. “Really?” he hummed, picking up his phone. His face lit up with the screen, shadowing the sharp features of his face as she watched him set up an alarm for half an hour before Luke’s went off. Eyes meeting hers once more with a smirk, he finished, “You didn’t seem to care when I was literally in you, like, three month ago.”

Josie’s jaw slackened, an incredulous squeak getting caught in her throat as she stared at him in a mixture of disbelief, feeling the entirety of her skin flush at the blatant reminder of a night she couldn’t ever forget. “Stop,” she stated through gritted teeth, no real annoyance or anger in her tone as she huffed and laid down, turning her back to him as she added pointedly, “Goodnight, Calum.”

Assuming sleep would come easy when there was an achingly familiar warm body next to hers would be foolish on Josie’s part, the blanket brought up to her chin as she stared at the digital clock on her bedside table. The green numbers read 2:56 A.M. and Josie suppressed a sigh. Her shift wasn’t until ten, so not getting enough sleep wasn’t a concern. It was just the act of falling asleep itself, with Calum in the same bed as hers, that kept her brain kicking and muscles tense.

It was silent only for a few moments until Calum’s voice spoke up. “So. . . How’ve you been?”

Josie’s eyebrows raised where she lay, unsure of what he was playing at or why he was trying to start a conversation right now. He was fucking with her, wasn’t he? “Calum, it’s three in the morning and the only reason why I suggested sleeping in my room is because I’m a good person and you were being too loud.”

She could hear the damned smirk in his voice as he didn’t miss a beat and instantly retorted, “You think that’s what your neighbors were saying when you were screaming my name that night?”

Josie’s eyes squeezed shut as she brought her hands up to cover her face, preventing herself from screaming into her palms as she felt Calum’s body shake subtly with the deep chuckles that were escaping him. She hated that despite the memories his words brought up, she felt the tension in her muscles surprisingly ease, no longer feeling suffocated in her own room. “Calum, I swear to God I will kick you off my bed.”

“I’m just playin’, Josie.”

Despite the sound of his laugh making her heart thrum, Josie felt her jaw tighten as she remembered their conversation earlier in the afternoon. So she turned to face him, propping herself up on her elbow as she peered down at his laying figure. Calum’s dark eyes instantly met her blue, and she saw the way his expression faltered when he noted the mild hardness in hers. “You’re completely going against what you said earlier today, remember?” she demanded with a challenging quirk of her eyebrow. “Trying to pretend that we’re fine isn’t gonna happen if you keep bringing up what happened.”

“I was wrong.” Calum propped himself up on his elbow as well and Josie didn’t pull back despite the sudden proximity. She could smell his familiar cologne that still stuck to his skin, tickling her nose. With this new closeness, she saw the way his eyes flickered down to her lips, sending her heart to her throat as his low voice spoke, “You and I—we’re fine. No pretending necessary.”

Josie was having a hard time ignoring her racing heart, her own gaze on his kissable mouth, feeling the familiar pull tugging her towards him and doing her best to fight it. “Unless we’re with everyone else, right?”

His lips curled upwards in a small smirk. “We’ve made it this long,” Calum responded with an agreeing tone. Josie’s heart stilled when Calum’s hand reached up, fingers pushing back a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear, her teeth pressing together when his fingers just barely grazed her cheek, igniting a fire in their wake. He still had that effect on her. “We got this, pretty girl.”

Her lungs were robbed of air as he spoke, and Josie subtly raised her eyebrows as she shot him a look. Her voice was quiet in the dark of her room, teeth lightly grazing her lower lip as she told him softly, “We won’t if you keep calling me that.”

Calum had been watching her bite her lower lip and Josie wondered if it was just as difficult for him to not lean in and close the gap between them as it was for her. Calum half-smiled, dropping his hand from her as he finally said, “G’night, Jos.”

He settled back down, back towards her, and Josie tilted her head back to look up at the ceiling. She could feel the heat of his body next to hers despite the space between the two of them, and Josie rolled her lips into her mouth as she settled down as well, her back towards his. Yet another bad idea for the books.

At this point, she might as well become the poster child for stupid relationship decisions. Sooner or later, it would come to bite her in the ass.

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @loveroflrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @theagenderwhocriedwolf @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @wildflowergrae @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood @gosh-im-short @thesubtweeter

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winifredsandersonsbitch · 5 years ago

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“My Babysittee’s a Vampire”

Spike x Reader, BTVS

Warnings: cursing, partial nudity, a little pain? but not necessarily violence. Possible spoilers.

Description: The reader volunteers to watch Spike at Giles’s house while the others do some sluthing, but nothing goes as planned. It turns out that vampires are very hard to babysit.

Spike swore that the chip in his head prevented him from hurting anyone, but you weren’t so sure. Giles decided to keep him chained up in the house for observation and that required someone to actually observe him. You volunteered.

You were still the weakest of the Scoobies, unfortunately (except for maybe Anya, but she got points for being an ex-demon). There wasn’t much you could do except get in the way of the monster fighting. But if you could be helpful by staying in and doing some homework, hey. You weren’t going to complain.

“What, Buffy can’t even be bothered to watch me herself, now that I’m all neutered?”

Spike was in a hell of a mood, seemingly forgetting that he had come to you and your friends for sanctuary. It probably didn’t help that Giles and Xander chained him up in the bathtub.

“She’s busy.” You were unsure of whether or not you were trying to comfort him or just get him off your back. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

“So I’m just supposed to sit here and stare at the bloody wall all night?”

“Mhmm.”

You were up against the opposite wall, trying—and failing—to get through the sociology chapter your professor had assigned that day. Everyone else in the gang seemed to ignore their homework entirely, except maybe Willow, but you needed a good grade. Your future plans extended outside Sunnydale. But that was only half the trick. You also had to convince Buffy to come with you.

Spike lapsed into silence as you took your notes, the concept finally clicking into place in your head after the third time around. You highlighted and underlined, drawing triangles to help you understand the ideas of hierarchy and filling up your margins with little asides that helped you contextualize. You didn’t even wonder if you should be worried about the vampire’s sudden quiet until his voice broke through your focus.

“Read to me.”

You dropped your pen, startled. He was staring at you intently, like how you imagined a lion might study its prey. Like everything else had faded from view and he was trying to decide whether or not to take his chances on the hunt.

“I-It’s just soc-sociology,” you stuttered, holding up the textbook for him to see. “I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“I like people.” Spike bared his teeth in a grin that you guessed was supposed to be charming or encouraging, but toed past the line to frightening. When you hesitated, he sweetened his voice, practically cooing, “Come on. What harm could it do?”

So you did. He never asked you to stop and explain anything or gave any indication that he didn’t understand, but you interjected your own learnings in anyway. You almost forgot that it was him you were talking to. Willow used to really value school, and she was still the smartest person you knew, but witchcraft was taking over her areas of interest and none of the others cared about this kind of stuff unless you were helping them with their own homework. It was nice to have a rapt audience, even if he was literally being held captive.

“Basically, he’s saying that social environment shapes how we act and react to situations. Like in the Stanford Prison Experiment.” Your eyes darted from the text to Spike, waiting for a nod or something, but he looked as much like a statue as ever. “Good people can be made to do bad things because of the pressure they feel, real or imagined, to follow the rules that have been set in their environment.”

You waited for him to tell you that you had been right before and he was bored, but instead he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. The chains around his midsection clanked against each other and you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, even though your heart felt like it might beat out of your chest.

“What about bad people?”

Being around Buffy and the others, around so much supernatural for so many years, had made you into a person who could handle most things with a cool head. It was a required skill. You could freak out about the little things—tests, dating, work—though they seemed to matter less now than ever. But you couldn’t let the supernatural world scare you shitless unless you wanted to shut down completely. Your hands trembled where they grasped your book, but you kept your voice even. You forced your eyes upward to meet Spike’s.

“You tell me.”

——

You couldn’t run away from him, even though you were deeply and truly uncomfortable, so you excused yourself and went to the kitchen for a snack. You knew you shouldn’t leave him alone for too long, chip or not, so you sat down at the table and tried to catch your breath. You were counting down from one hundred when he started shouting about blood.

“It’s unfair,” he said when your frame filled the doorway, arms crossed, “that you get your snack and I don’t get mine.”

At this, his eyes raked down your body. You doubted that the gang would mind much if they came back to find him with a broken nose, but you exercised some hard-won self-control and dug your nails into your palms. Spike was smart and if he was working you up, it was probably for a reason. You treaded back to the kitchen and returned with a mug filled with some B negative that Giles had “borrowed” from the hospital’s blood bank.

“This is the last of the human stuff,” you told him with some satisfaction. “Next you’re drinking pig’s blood.”

You held the mug well away from you, willing your eyes to ignore the splatters on the rim from when you had poured it in. Spike cocked his head.

“Are you going to unchain me, or—?”

“I’ll get a straw.”

When you came back, he was slumped against the inside wall of the porcelain tub. You sat on the edge, held the mug up for him, and turned your head away, enough that you couldn’t see him take his first sip but not enough that he would notice. The sound by itself was almost worse.

“It’s cold.”

“I’m not running a hotel. You’re a hostage.”

“I’m a guest seeking asylum.”

You sucked in a deep breath. “Fine.” You couldn’t bicker with him any more. You needed this to be over.

You warmed it in the microwave, swearing the whole time, and brought it back with both hands wrapped around the mug to keep yourself from throwing the blood in Spike’s face. He smiled as if he knew what you were thinking and relaxed against the tub, tilting up only his chin so that you had to sink to your knees against the tile floor to get an angle that would work.

“I could get used to this,” he mused when he had finished. A few droplets splattered on your hands. You tried not to look at them and began soaping up in the sink.

“Don’t.”

“You know, love, Passions is on in twenty, if your watch is correct.”

You unclasped it from your wrist and wiped it off with a damp tissue. “Forget it.”

“I guess we could always read more from the textbook.” You caught his crafty smirk in the mirror. “You seemed to like that well enough.”

You sighed. “Will it get you off my back?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Fine.”

You crossed to the tub and tried to puzzle out how to lift him without breaking anything. Spike’s hands were bound in front of him by a separate set of chains than his body to make it more difficult for him to escape and give him some limited mobility. His back was flush up against the tub wall, pressed to the porcelain in a way that would make it difficult to pull him up from behind. There was a small amount of space in between his legs, as his feet had been spread to either side of the tap.

“Well?”

“Shut up.”

You stepped into the tub gingerly, easing over the high rim to stand in between Spike’s legs in the space provided. It wasn’t much, and you caught the fabric of his jeans under your foot at first, but you adjusted.

Next you placed your arms on either side of his chest right under his arms.

“Lift with me,” you said, and together you managed to get him to sit on the edge of the tub. “Okay, next—”

He straightened out, trying to stand before you were ready for him, overcompensating so he wouldn’t hit the wall nearest to him and then hitting you with the full force of his weight as he toppled forward.

“Fuck, Spike!”

He was so goddamn heavy. His chest pressed against your face, forcing your back to the wall where the tap caught you in the back of the lower thigh and tore the skin. You couldn’t shove him back unless you wanted him to fall out the back of the tub and onto the floor, possibly cracking his skull in the process. It was tempting, but your reputation as a babysitter would be shredded.

“This isn’t exactly comfortable for me either, you know!”

“Ouch. Ouch. Fuck. Okay, I’m going to push you back slowly. Try to keep your balance.”

But when you moved your leg to keep it from being pressed against the spout, you hit the knob for the cold water, which came pouring down over your heads.

Spike cursed so loudly the neighbors could probably hear. “Turn it off!”

“Stand up! I can’t turn it off with you all over me like this!”

He righted himself too quickly and fell backward back into the floor of the tub, sending his legs sprawling out beneath you. Your feet were knocked out from under you and you fell on top of him heavily, bruising your elbow and knocking your chin against his sternum as the water poured on.

“Fuck,” he whispered, unable to do anything else. It took you both a moment to adjust to the pain and you closed your eyes to your own idiocy.

“Did you hit your head?” you asked finally, reaching out a hand to the platinum blond mop that was now plastered against his skull.

“Turn. The bloody. Water. Off.”

“Okay, okay,” you huffed. He groaned as you sat up, spreading your legs to either side of his hips to steady yourself and keep from slipping in the tub that was slowly filling up. “But this was all you. You had to watch Passions.”

“You’re the one,” he grunted, “who volunteered to play babysitter.”

The shower head drenched you as you twisted and leaned back to flick the knob off.

“I’m normally good with kids, so I figured I could handle one whiny brat for a night.”

You were breathing heavily, your body throbbing from all the places you had scraped and bruised in the struggle. Spike didn’t look much better, although you supposed he had his super vampire healing or whatever. You weren’t worried about it. Your clothes, on the other hand...

“Now what?”

Carefully, you stood and stepped out of the tub. You avoided your textbook on the ground as you grabbed a towel from the cabinets underneath the sink and wrapped it around yourself.

“You can’t leave me here.”

There was at least an inch of water kept in the tub by the plugged drain. It would probably serve Spike right to sit there all night. You both knew that the others would find it funny rather than an exercise in abuse of authority.

“Take the chains off,” he said, switching his tone from murderous to honeyed. “I promise I won’t bite.”

“You can’t,” you retorted, before realizing you had proven his point. “I mean, if what you say is true.”

“Do you think I would be here right now if it wasn’t?”

You couldn’t. This was the setup for a disaster. Things like this always happened to you guys.

“Look, I could’ve hurt any of you before you chained me up. I didn’t.”

He did look kind of pitiful, soaking and lying on his back in the bathtub.

“Maybe you were playing the long game. And now you’ve decided it’s not for you.”

Your words made sense, but you were wavering. Maybe you had a death wish. You left the room for a moment and returned with the key.

“Your hands stay locked up.”

“Fine.”

You were all too aware how close to him you were now, to his mouth. You barely breathed when you stepped into his personal bubble and let the chains slide to the floor. His lips twisted as he looked down on you and before you could step back, his face contorted and he stretched his mouth open.

“Ow! Fuck! Bloody hell!” he cried, putting a hand to his head as you fell back onto the floor on your already sore ass, scrambling backward. “It was a joke!”

“Buffy should have staked you,” you spat, but you led him into the living room anyway.

The two of you were still dripping all over the carpet, but you ducked into Giles’s closet after re-hiding the key and brought out two pairs of pajama pants and a t-shirt.

As it was, you had to take the scissors to Spike’s shirt and throw it out. It was impossible to get it off with the chains on, though you gave it a shot anyway and ended up tangling Spike in it. It was kind of gratifyingly funny to see his head tucked in under the fabric as he struggled.

“You bloody witch!”

“Stop squirming!”

The pants were worse. He had to sit down in the armchair as you shimmied his soaked jeans off, leaving him only in boxers.

“Like what you see?”

“Shut up or I’ll leave you like this.”

Getting the pajamas on was even harder. He had to stand up, support himself by leaning his hands on your shoulder, and kind of hop into the legs of it as you held them up. They were big on him, too, but you tied the drawstrings as tightly as you could, which meant having your hands near a very sensitive area for a few seconds. Ultimately, the pants still hung low on his hips, and you wrinkled your nose in frustration. When you pulled back, Spike had his lips puckered, stringently trying to avoid laughter.

“So you’re just going to leave me in damp knickers?”

“We’re all having to make sacrifices today. Turn around.”

You didn’t want to leave him again, not even for a second, afraid of the trouble he’d get up to on his own. You yanked off your own jeans and t-shirt, watching his back in case he disobeyed you, unable to ignore how muscled and lean he was.

Goddamnit, he really could kill you if he had half a mind to. You’d been training ever since you’d found out what Buffy was, but with school and a job, there was only so much you could fit in.

You wavered between turning around to unclasp your bra and staying in place to monitor him, but ultimately you decided it was safer to just hurry up and do it. You weren’t sure how much skin Spike saw when he went ahead and broke the rules, but it was more than you had hoped. You pulled the t-shirt over your head hurriedly, but Giles wasn’t necessarily a very big man, and it was decidedly short on you.

“Spike,” you hissed. “Go watch TV.”

“Well, we’ve probably missed Passions by now. But our romantic evening doesn’t have to be ruined.” His eyebrow quirked suggestively and you balled up your wet jeans, aiming right at his face.

“Go!”

You almost took yourself out on the corner of the coffee table as you pulled on Giles’s only pair of pajama shorts. You had to roll the top down three times for them to sit at your hips without totally falling off. Spike watched you do it. You gritted your teeth and said nothing.

When the others came back, you and Spike were in separate chairs, your hair still drying.

Xander opened his mouth and then closed it, glancing back and forth between the two of you. Giles seemed disturbed, his right eye beginning to spasm as he spotted the piles of clothes on the floor. Willow stifled a laugh, almost choking on it. And Buffy’s fists curled like she was preparing to hit one—or both—of you.

Spike didn’t look away from the TV, although the corner of his mouth twitched. You dug your fingers into the chair’s arm rests.

“I deserve a raise.”

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #spike x reader #fanfiction

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years ago

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Day 6: “What book is that?”//”Is that smut?”

masterlist

non-descript, non-canon-compliant AU

Leo Valdez sighs as he stares at the gloomy weather taking over his Saturday. It seems that while winter is well and truly underway the sun would not be making an appearance, or at least it hadn’t for the last week. He looks back at the rough sketches he’s drawn for his practical assignment due after winter break and decides he’s worked hard enough for the day. Writing down measurements and ruling a few lines counted, right? He didn’t care. Heaving himself out of his chair he pulls up the socks that had slowly started slipping down and shoves his feet into his giant Yoda slippers that are truly a wonder and a disgrace in equal parts. His friends take turns wearing them and pretending to be everything from big foot to Yoda-crushers. He has a polaroid hall of fame behind his door.

As he trudges across the wooden floor of his apartment his mind wanders to the upcoming days and the time that stretches before him. His roommates are gone to their homes for the break but Leo, ever the orphan, was still stuck in their shared apartment, the weather and his lack of plans keeping him steadfast. He hops onto the kitchen counter and slides across it, landing on the other side in a smooth glide to the fridge. With a self-satisfied smirk he prepares a hot chocolate, laced with coffee because he doesn’t need a sleep schedule when he’s on holiday! He dances at the thought, slurping up a marshmallow and burning himself on the steaming mug.

A knock at the door interrupts his little moment. He glances at the time on the microwave and frowns as he sees 13:30 flashing on the little screen. Who would be here at this time? Everyone he knows is well on their way to family homes or tropical vacations. Stupid Piper and her stupid rich father. He should call her and check in. The knock sounds again and he hurries to open the door.

“Jackson?”

Percy looks up from his phone, a small smile tugging at full lips, “Hi Valdez, can i come in?”

Leo instantly moves aside, as his mind runs a mile a minute. It’s not unusual for Percy to pop around, considering they went to the same university and hung with the same people. It just seemed odd that he’d be here now. When he was supposed to be in New York.

“Is uh, is everything okay?”

That signature smirk takes over that lovely face and it makes his heart beat just a little faster. Well that’s a new reaction. “Everything is fine. I just wanted to come back before the semester reopened, so I could catch up on sleep and video games without Estelle trying to press every button.” His nose scrunches in what’s supposed to be irritation but the soft look in his eyes offsets the whole charade.

“Oh, well make yourself at home.” He gestures to the lounge, which looks relatively neat for once.

“Thanks,” Percy looks around, setting his keys on the kitchen counter and flopping onto the double couch. “Want to play a video game with me?”

“Sure, mind if i go shower first though? I kind of got distracted with school stuff and haven’t actually gotten any self-care stuff in.”

A laugh that reminds him of forest brooks, catches around the apartment. “Go shower, you hazard. I’ll wait for you.”

Sticking his tongue out at the jab he hops off to the bathroom, all the while thinking how nice it is to have a friend here. Even if that friend came back from two months of holiday with sun-kissed skin the colour of maple bark, and green eyes that twinkle as bright as the evening star. It’s never really been fair how gorgeous Percy Jackson was, with his whole skater boy-badass-saving the world-looking-out-for-the-little-people thing going on, but now he seems to be from another galaxy. One where they make humans out of gemstones. It is almost a shame he’s still dating Annabeth because Leo would happily set his heart on fire for a chance to be Percy’s flame. But no matter. He is allowed to appreciate without disrespecting.

His shower is quick and steaming as he tries to fight off the strange chill in the air. Soon he’s in a fresh pair of sweats and is running his fingers through damp, unruly curls to try to organise them into something that won’t resemble a bird’s nest when it dries. He doesn’t have much luck but at this point his interest is far below his luck. With a shrug in the mirror to make sure his top is on the right way- inside out, back-to-front shirts are a common occurrence- he pads across the cool wooden floors and into the lounge. There he finds Percy, sitting on the floor, back against the couch, with his nose buried in a kindle and the most adorable wire-framed glasses pushed up his nose.

Without saying anything he comes up behind him and settles himself on the couch. He knows his friend notices his presence because he shifts slightly so Leo can get comfortable and then settles back down. He sees two video games lying on the table and the controllers connected and waiting to be used. And then he glances down at the book Percy is reading, curiosity pressing on his lungs.

“What book is that?” He leans in closer, his curls brushing the balck-haired boy’s cheeks. ”Is- Is that smut?”

Instantly his friend blushes, skin turning a deep red. “N-no.” He stammers.

“It totally is.” Leo smirks, delighted by the recent discovery. “You trying to learn some tricks for Annabeth?”

“Oh my gods Valdez!” He blushes harder and it is possibly the cutest thing he has ever seen.

“Well there’s no need to be embarrassed. I think it’s very cool that you’re putting in the effort to try and impress your lady. I know Annabeth would love this, she’ll see it like studying.”

Percy drops his head into his hands and groans in embarrassment. It sets Leo off cackling with glee.

“Annabeth and I aren't together anymore.” His friend mumbles.

‘Wait what?”

“Yea she went halfway across the world and we felt it was better to break up, If we find each other again then so be it.”

“Holy shit are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?” The scandalous book is all but forgotten.

“No, I’m good.” When he sees Leo’s raised eyebrow he rolls his eyes. “I swear. I was a bit all over the place in the beginning but the holiday with my family and talking it over with my therapist really helped. Besides we didn’t lose all contact. She’s still my friend.”

“Okay,” He is still a little skeptical but he drops it. “Let me know if you ever want to talk.”

“Will do love.” And he goes back to reading.

But Leo sits there frozen in shock as he processes the words Percy had just said. Love, love, love. Oh gods. This little crush was turning into a big problem in his life.

“Want to play a video game now?” He asks a little too loudly.

The black-haired boy gives him a weird look but locks his Kindle and grabs the controllers from the table. “What am i beating you at Valdez?”

He scoffs, as he scrolls through the options, and then grins when he lands on the perfect one. “I’m going to absolutely crush you at Mario Kart.”

“Oof, wrong choice love. I’ve been playing this game since before i could talk.”

“Big words for a man who chooses Luigi over Princess Peach.”

“Hey don’t judge my avatar. Luigi is a beast.”

“He looks like the creepy brother who’s plumbing business is a front for the mob.”

“Good then at least you know not to mess with him.”

“Oh you are going down Jackson!”

The screen flashes with 3, 2, 1. And they’re off. Yelling obscenities at each other and slamming their little cars off the roads. Percy lands up in the ocean, and growls so loudly Leo is sure he has a stray animal in his apartment. But then a blue shell is hitting him and he’s the one making animalistic sounds, as he shoves Percy’s shoulder and zooms past Luigi’s car.

“I’m getting the family inheritance sucker!” He whoops as he crosses the finish line.

“Listen Mario. If i’m tied to the mob you’re tied to the mob so buckle up buddy, we got shit to do.” Green eyes flash, dark eyebrows knitting in faux seriousness and then they’re both keeling over with laughter.

Percy flings his head back and it hits the couch seat with a soft thud, but he’s too busy laughing to notice. Leo’s head falls forward until his curls are brushing his friend’s forehead and they are breathless with amusement.

“You’re a clown Jackson.” He whispers, still only centimeters away from beautiful brown skin. His lips a mere inch from brushing against the crease between those eyebrows

“At least i’m not Princess Peach.”

“Maybe you should be, and then you could actually win.”

“Oh you did not just say that!” He gasps, and Leo feels the intake against his knees, which are pressed to his back.

“Round two?”

“You’re on, mobster.”

And with a determined gleam in those green eyes they race into another round. And Leo thinks, maybe this is what paradise feels like. And Percy laughs as he releases a blue shell. And Leo knows this is what happiness looks like.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tags:

@spoopylucy

@leydiangelo

@nishlicious-01

#valjackson #pjjg series #pjjg fanfic #12 days of fanfics #percy jackson #leo valdez

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urmomsstuntdouble · 4 years ago

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cupofkeywtiys

hello! here’s my attempt for @cupofkey’s wtiys event! so, this isn’t exactly what i set out to write. my initial plan was to recreate an assignment i had to write in an application to a creative writing school- basically, they gave me half of a short story and then only the dialogue from the second half, and then i had to write in the rest. but i realized that um. i couldn’t do that with the fic i wanted to do (chapter 13 of her fic both sides now) because i’d already read all of it. by that time it was already winter break, which was when i planned on writing it anyway, so it was sort of a mad dash to fix everything lol. what i wound up writing is a sort of epilogue to both sides now, which is sort of inspired by the interactions between chiara and isabel in chapter 13 of bsn? its more of a character study of key’s chiara than anything else, though. anyway, that’s my obnoxious little forward. i hope you like it, and thank you for reading!

In times like these, Chiara remembered her life in New York. Standing back, staring at the pot of water on the stove- She’d done this before, hundreds of times. She’d stand beside the microwave, watching Cup Noodles spin, or counting the seconds between her roommates talking. If she was in a frisky mood, she’d unfocus her eyes over and over. Once, she recalled, she had eaten after a shower, and spent the time watching water drip from her bangs.

Now, though, she had to stay on task. Isabel would be there soon, and if things weren’t ready, well…Probably nothing would happen. But in Chiara’s mind, it spelled disaster for the future of their relationship. Relationship, god. You’re talking like you’re dating or something. It’s just dinner. Chiara shuddered at the thought. She couldn't tell if it was actually a date or not. Isabel asked if she wanted to have dinner and winked, then stroked the back of her hand while they ironed out the details. Chiara was still stuck on the hand thing. It was a weird thing to do, plus Isabel's hands were distractingly soft. What type of lotion did she use...Or would asking be weird too?

The water began to foam, white surrounding the center of the pot. Chiara lurched forward and turned down the heat of the stove. She fumbled with the pasta bag, tearing it open, and dumped more noodles than two people could eat into the pot. Fuck. Now there would be leftovers, which would mean she’d be stuck eating the meal she cooked for Isabel for the next three days. Every time she brought a fork to her lips, her heart would turn in her chest and- Oh, God, what was she doing…

Now Isabel’s gonna want to take leftovers home. She’s gonna have to eat your food for days too, cause she’s nice like that- But it was fine. You were supposed to eat food, after all. Chiara breathed, forcing air into her lungs. Or was it fine? She’d never been this nervous before a date before- If it even counted as a date. And if it didn't- Did that make her a colossal fucking pussy? Chiara kept breathing, forcing air into her lungs. Breathe. Or she could do something else to prepare. But she was already dressed- Oh, she could light a candle- Yes, that would do. Conflicting aromatics for the win.

Chiara took a final glance at the stove before sprinting through her apartment to her bedroom. Half-melted candles lined her windowsill. Panting, she lifted each and read the tag on the bottom, searching for the sweetest scent. Sandalwood. Bourbon. Honeydew. Scentless. Rose- She couldn't help but blush at that one- and tangerine. Tangerine- who had a tangerine scented candle? But it would do, she figured, and dashed back to the kitchen.

Using a match, she lit the candle, and set it in the center of the table. Oh, and the table needed setting. So she set it, placing the plates and silverware, making sure they were all at perfect angles. Even though Isabel probably didn't care.

Once the pasta boiled, there was nothing left for Chiara to prepare- So she sat in her seat and jiggled her leg. When that wasn't enough to occupy her mind, she reached out and traced a fingertip through the candle flame. It wasn't close enough to burn, or put the fire out, but enough to singe the skin of her hand. She winced at the sting, but didn't stop. She repeated the process again until dark lines criss-crossed her fingertips. When she and Feli had been young, they’d made a game out of this. Who could get their hand closer to the wick, who would cry first…dumb stuff like that. The memory brought a smile to her face. Chiara lifted her hand, gazed upon the soot in her palm. She’d need to wash it off again before Isabel arrived. For now, though, she could leave it, and cling to the youthful sense of victory it gave her.

Propping her head up on her other hand, Chiara stared at the tiny flame. A pathetic thing, which appeared on the verge of sputtering out at any moment, yet the whole table glowed from its light. Were Isabel sitting across from her, Chiara would be able to see the flame dancing in her eyes.

It was during this candle-touching that her phone buzzed. Chiara glanced at the screen, then leapt to her feet. Her company had arrived.

#i thought i wouldn't be able to publish this today bc of school but the universe will be a dick to you sometimes in ways that also give you #more time to write and edit #anyway!#i hope you like this! im sorry its kinda short but i tried #hetalia #hws #hws romano #nyo romano #sort of nyo spain #sort of nyo spamano #cupofkeywtiys

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bangtanlalaland · 5 years ago

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situationship 「prologue」 | knj (m.)

synopsis ↳you recall the moment you made the worst yet best mistake of your life that involves your best friend: Namjoon Kim.

— college!au

→pairing: college student!kim namjoon x female reader

→genre: smut, pwp

→word count: 5.2k+

→contents ⨯ warnings: kissing, unprotected sex (remember: no glove, no love!) slight degradation/pet names (basically being called a cock-slut lollol) daddy kink, mentions of sexting, joon is huge, (srsly he’s packed downstairs so plz be prepared) mentions of masturbation, oral (m + f receiving), nipple piercings, hair pulling, ass slapping, creampie, overstimulation, breath play, (just a little lol) face-fucking

title inspired by: “situationship” by snoh aalegra

a/n: HIIII U HOES, so sorry i haven’t posted in v long, life has me all over the place. so here’s my valentine’s day gift from me to u so plz forgive me. a special thank you to everyone that has shown me love for “in case we die” & “the final touch,” promise i have more content on the way!! LOVE U HOES 💘

prologue 「sixty minutes」

It was all so easy. Fleeing to him in an instant whenever he’d hit you with the:

“Are you up? I need you rn” text.

Maybe you’re just a fool, but you simply cannot resist him. No, you aren’t dating. Of course not because that would be silly, right? You’re just best friends. Best friends who occasionally fuck each other’s brains out. You didn’t like putting a label on it either, especially the “friends-with-benefits” one. And that was the problem. This entire situationship being a never ending cycle:

You both have sex ⟶ You get caught up in your feels ⟶ You come to your own conclusion that you’ll break it off with him ⟶ He texts you saying that he “needs” you and how much he misses being inside of you ⟶ Lastly, you go back to him - repeating the process all over again.

And here you are again, riding the hell out of your “friend” Namjoon.

“Yeah, just like that.. ride this fucking dick, fuck!” Namjoon exclaims, slapping and gripping your ass cheeks as you continue to ride him.

“Daddy!” Your head thrown back in ecstasy at how his thick cock fills you up completely. In this moment, all of your feels and doubts of ever getting into this situation with him - gone. Your ultimate goal is to cum on his cock, for what is now probably the thousandth time.

But you love it. You love how amazing he feels inside you. How he can make you feel good beyond limits, and how he pleases you in ways you didn’t think was possible. And Namjoon loves it too. The power he has to make you writhe and scream his name strokes his ego tremendously. He loves that he’s the only man in this entire world that knows what it’s like to hear your moans as he fucks you continuously.

How he’s the only man to ever see your lips part, eyes shut tight, and body tremble as your walls contract around his shaft, being completely drowned within your orgasm - all because of him.

This whole fling first started when he supposedly “accidentally” sent you a dick pic. Apparently you weren’t the intended recipient. You were stunned, not so much that he sent you a photo of his cock but it was the size of him + including the vulgar message sent with the photo itself:

From: joonie 🤩 11:17 pm

My cock is throbbing rn. So horny and in the mood to bend you over and fuck you until your body gives out.

The moment you opened the message, your mouth instantly salivated and your core throbbed with anticipation. It was almost as if he knew exactly what you were doing in that moment because when you got his notification, you were busy watching porn paired with your fingers inside of your cunt. For the past 4 years you’d known Joon, you never put much thought into what his dick may look like.

It was perfectly sculpted, and obviously hard as a brick with a slight curve. You could faintly see a small leak of precum oozing from his juicy, flesh-tone tip. Considering that he messaged you at just the right moment, when your hormones are at its peak, you reply:

To: joonie 🤩 11:20 pm

mmm, please... never knew how thick you are. would love to feel you stretching me out 🥵

And in that moment, you couldn’t believe what you’d just started. The tension between your legs taking over you completely. Nothing but lust oozed from your actions. Finally seeing that sexting your best friend was literally the perfect way to orgasm all over your fingers, you softly chanted his name to yourself. Imagining him standing before you stroking himself with his delicious member. After releasing yourself of your tension, you felt somewhat guilty and awkward that you’d just came to a picture of your best friends cock AND sexted him.

You also pondered who he really meant to send the photo to, which caused you to relish in your feels for the remainder of the night as you sheepishly attempted to fall asleep in your frozen, lonely bed. Part of you liked to think that you were blessed he even sent it to you. But after that night, everything changed. You hadn’t heard from him the next day until later that night asking if you were awake. You simply brushed it off and didn’t bother opening up the message, that way he wouldn’t know if you read it or not.

The reason mainly being that you were afraid he’d want to sext again. Throughout the week, you’d cross paths in certain periods on campus, but you tried in your willpower to avoid him at ALL costs. It all came down to you being aware of your surroundings to make sure he didn’t see you before you saw him. And when you would see him from a distance, you’d instantly turn the other way or hide until the coast was clear. You remembered he would even text you asking where you were since he hadn’t seen you since that day, and you would lie to him saying you were busy studying for exams or running an errand. When in reality, you were at your single room dorm, stuffing your face with gelato and watching Netflix.

The way you now saw Namjoon was so much differently. You both share one class together every Wednesday, and he took the opportunity to sit beside you considering that he hadn’t seen you since before that night. Being near him made you antsy, and you found yourself giving him short responses, making hardly any eye contact. He noticed this and was not happy about it. The distance you kept between him since that night worried him non-stop.

The constant question of: “What the fuck was I thinking?” flooded his mind everyday.

After two weeks of putting up with your edgy behavior, he decided that it was enough. It’s Saturday and yet again, you told him you were studying in the schools library and he knew that was bullshit. Because you have no classes on Saturday, you work during the school week, are off every weekend, and he’d already checked the library. Obviously you were not there, and it pissed him off that you were blowing him off like this. At least, not in the way he’d like to be blown by you.

He marched around campus making his way to your dorm. The sound of your door being knocked on startled you as you were warming up a yakisoba bowl in the microwave. You stand up onto your tippy toes to peek through the peephole. Your entire insides perform a back flip as you notice your best friend standing on the other side of the door. He runs his fingers through his blonde mullet, strands of purple at the tips, his arm resting on the doorframe, and he does not look happy. After not getting a response, he gives a few more hard knocks urging you to open the door.

“Come on, ____. I know you’re in there. We need to talk!”

Fuck. You think to yourself and take a deep breath. He obviously was not going to let up, you know Joon. Your fingers nervously unloosen the lock on the door and grasp the handle pulling it open slowly. Namjoon’s eyes snap up, his breath caught in his throat as he gazes you up and down with those familiar, wide, monolids that could captivate anyone who looks his way. His lips part gradually, and his tongue glides across his bottom lip. It wasn’t until you saw his expression that you noticed you were attired in the shortest pajama shorts you have along with a sleeveless, white tank and no bra. The imprint of your barbell piercings that decorate your nipples clearly visible. Of course, Namjoon wasn’t aware you had these said piercings. You instantly crossed your arms, wanting to hide from his gaze.

Finally breaking the silence he slips, “Nice library you have here. Sure doesn’t look like one though.”

You sigh dramatically and roll your eyes, “Seriously?”

Namjoon steps inside, welcoming his own self in without giving you time to do so yourself. He slowly treads inside, removing his Nikes by the door then flopping down on your loveseat, his legs spread wide open. An awkward silence overtakes your dorm, yet you continue with your antics and into the kitchen to grab your chopsticks so you could finish making your instant yakisoba. Joon notices this and silently follows you into the kitchen. The hair on the back of your neck stands up when you feel his presence behind you. You look up and feel his hand placed over yours, resulting in you dropping your chopsticks. Your body naturally responds and jerks around now facing him.

“Joon-”

He continues his gaze, looking deeply into your eyes. There was something in the way he looked at you in that moment of time. His features looked so mesmerizing. You adored the tiny beauty marks that decorate his face, especially the one that sits below his bottom lip; flying strands of his bleach, blonde, hair catch your attention. After an entire week of not paying him any attention, you had nearly forgotten how physically attractive Namjoon is. It is almost sickening, and this is one of the many reasons why you wish you hadn’t started this thing. His stare softens, almost as if he’s thinking. His fingers gracefully caress your cheek, your body naturally responds - shivering under his touch.

“____, what’s been going on with you?"

Unable to form coherent words, you simply respond, “Nothing.” You shift yourself, turning your back to him breaking the contact he once had on your cheek. You hear a deep sigh emit from Namjoon.

“Goddammit, there you go again!” Your eyes widen at the sound of him raising his voice.

“What?!” You retort, slamming your chopsticks down and turning your gaze back to him with raised brows.

“You’re lying. Again. First the library, and now this. I know something’s wrong with you. You’ve practically been avoiding me all week!”

Your eyes shut immediately, trying to hold back anything stupid from slipping out of your lips.

“You’ve been avoiding me since...” he trails off, and you open your eyes to find him with his arms crossed, head hung low.

“Joonie..” You attempt to muster up the correct form to continue your sentence. His wide eyes staring back at you, waiting for an answer.

“I just can’t.. I-I can’t look at you the same way, you know? I don’t know it’s just weird. Just knowing what you, um..”

Joon scoffs, shaking his head, “Then why lead me on?”

Your snap your neck to the side giving him a ‘Really?’ look. “I lead you on?” Your tone dipped in a bit of sassiness.

“You are the one that sent me a picture of your dick! And you want to blame me for it?”

Namjoon blinks rapidly, somewhat taken aback by your tone.

“Well, y-yeah. I mean, you played along with it.” He responds, scratching the back of his neck and hanging his head low again. Truth is, he lied to you too. He didn’t exactly “accidentally” send you that photo. He meant for you to see it. For months, he’d contemplated how he should approach his feelings toward you. All the while, he felt it was a stupid idea, but he also thought it would be a hit or miss. He tends to act out before fully thinking about his actions, and that’s just one of his many weaknesses. You, of course, being his main one.

Deep down you knew he wasn’t lying, because you both know each other long enough to know enough about one another. Yet another silence lingers throughout the space. You sigh in exhaustion, pulling your thoughts together.

“Yes... I did.” Namjoon looks up and locks eyes with you. To him, you look incredibly delectable with the shape of your bare tits, along with your piercings, poking through the light fabric of your tank. His eyes are no longer soft, they’re dark and lustful. Just being under his gaze, gets you warmer by the second. It’s like he’s cooking you with his own eyes, and you are sizzling right now.

His lips part, as he slowly inches toward you.

“Did you like it?” He probes with a hint of curiosity behind the question.

You take a deep breath, looking dead-straight into his eyes while brushing your hair behind your ear.

“Y-yes, I really did.” You say, barely a whisper. Namjoon hums in response, lightly grazing his index finger across your shoulder and down your arm. You’re not sure why but your core suddenly tingled at the simple, physical contact. Causing you to gasp lowly.

“Do you want.. what we said we would do to each other that night? Because, I want you in ways that you don’t understand.” He smirks at your sudden action of rubbing your thighs together. You hum in approval. He runs his index and middle finger across your lips,

“I want to hear you say it, pretty baby.” The sudden pet name made you slip a moan you’re sure he heard.

“I want you, Joonie. Want you to stuff me with your thick cock.” You play along and guide your hands to rub his arms and broad shoulders up and down, looking up at him with innocent-like puppy dog eyes. Just the sight of you alone makes him want to shove his cock so far down your throat, making you gag on it with watery eyes. His growing erection becomes noticeable beneath his sweats. His hands make their way down your side, gripping your waist. He leans down to whisper in your ear,

“Imma beat that pussy like you never ever felt before.”

Your kitty cat clenches around emptiness, desperately wanting to be filled. Before you had a chance to respond, Namjoon pulls away and presses his lips on yours. You naturally wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. The faint smell of his cologne, masked with notes of orange, mint, and cinnamon reel you in to heighten your arousal. His pink, pillow-y lips play a game of tug of war, lightly grazing his teeth along your bottom lip. Your kisses filled with pent-up tension and longing for one another.

He pulls away from your lips and lifts you up, your legs naturally wrapping themselves around his waist as he leads you over to the loveseat and sits down, straddling yourself on top of him. He grips your waist, running his large hands across your ass. You follow the rhythm of his hands and grind against his clothed erection, wanting some type of friction to ease your libido all while gaining a sexy moan from him. Namjoon works one of his hands up into your hair, lightly tugging on it to give him access to your neck.

“Mmm, Joonie.” Your eyes shut as a response to his lips smothering your jawline and neck with wet kisses. Your fingers get lost within the forest that’s his mullet. He continues his trail up to your earlobe, gently nibbling on it.

“Want you.. So bad.. Have no idea.” He slips in between breaths. His deep voice rumbling from his chest, creating a vibration that streams throughout your body ending at your core.

“Want you too, so much.” You respond, pulling away to glance into his eyes, the color like deep pools of medium, roast coffee. He caresses your face, tracing circles on your cheek and presses his lips against yours again. The silky, wet feeling of his plush lips persuades you to pursue your previous actions of grinding. He snakes his hands up to lightly massage your breasts. The sudden motion of your piercings causing you to moan within his mouth.

Namjoon tugs at the hem of your tank and you follow along, tossing the material away on the floor while helping him to remove his basic tee. Your bare chest exposed to him, nipples cool, hardened, and aching for attention. You hear him whisper a “Fuck,” under his breath. His warm embrace sends shivers down your spine, as he desperately caresses your tits. You take this moment to admire the golden tone of his bare skin, so smooth yet such chiseled features.

“When did you get these?” Namjoon questions, gently sliding your piercing back and forth.

“Hmm.. last spring break!”

“So sexy,” He slips, while using his index and middle finger to lightly pinch your other nipple. The piercings make your nipples so much more sensitive to even the slightest touch. Namjoon licks your left nipple in slow circles, while watching your reaction. He gently wraps his lips around you, sucking your nipple with such soft care. The warm, wetness of his tongue and smooth, plushness of his lips soothes and excites you at the same time. Your kitty clenching and gushing, full of arousal and hot and ready for him. He uses his other hand to sneak into your shorts and past your panties. His slender fingers find your drenched folds, coating his digits with your juice.

Your fingernails softly graze over his scalp, as you throw your head back calling his name. He presses sloppy kisses along your neck, humming into you as a response.

“Are you really this wet for your best friend, hm? Does Daddy turn you on this much?”

“Mmm, yes Joonie..” His erection growing by the second, and you can feel it twitch beneath you in his sweats. “Such a dirty girl, want to be cock slut for your own best friend.”

He pulls his fingers from you and you silently whimper at the loss of his touch. Your eyes pry open and find him with his eyes closed, tasting your arousal that was left on his fingers. He moans at the taste. “Mmm... Heavenly.”

The small compliment making you blush and grow warmer between your thighs. Surprisingly, he slips his fingers back into your panties and finds your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud in circles. Making you gasp in shock,

“Joonie...” You look down at him, caressing his smooth strands. He slips a finger inside of you, pushing in and out. You move your hips along his rhythm, as he slips another finger inside of you while simultaneously rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your eyebrows furrowing together at the pleasure your core feels, emitting more wetness onto his fingers while creating squelching noises as Namjoon continues to finger your pussy. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, mimicking the tightness of the coil in the pit of your tummy.

“Want you to cum all over my fingers, pretty baby.” Namjoon commands, while slipping his fingers from your pussy, focusing on your clit, rubbing with just the perfect amount of pressure. Absolutely enough to make you cum on the spot. Your moans slip from you uncontrollably.

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good.” Namjoon coos, while continuously circling your clit with your fingers, all while watching you writhe above him.

“Y-you, J-J-,” Unable to even finish your sentence, your fingers lose their place within his hair. Your body continues shaking from cumming so hard.

“That’s right. Only me. Just look at you, pretty baby. Losing yourself all over your best friends fingers. Only I can do that, hm? Only I can make you feel this good.”

You push his hand away, whining at the overstimulation. Finally he lets up and licks his fingers clean. Still twitching, you glide your fingers down to meet his crotch, massaging him through his clothing.

“Can I... Please? Need you in my mouth.” He eyes your motions and moans in approval. You climb off of him and sit on your knees between his legs. He lifts up to help you remove his sweats. His member visibly shown through his Calvin Klein briefs. It’s so stiff and hard. Your hand finds itself rubbing him again, as you kiss along his thighs. Slowly teasing and finally reaching his cock through the material covering it.

“Fuck... such a tease. You’re a good baby, for Daddy.. Right?”

You look up at him and nod.

“Speak, pretty baby.” He probes, lifting your chin up with his fingers.

“Y-yes I am.”

“Yes what?” Namjoon groans, his voice much harder than before.

You shift slightly at the sudden change in his demeanor, your arousal growing thicker. You thought it was sexy though, how he was now taking control.

“Yes, Daddy..”

He smiles that pretty smile and pets your hair.

“Good girl.” You take this chance to pull his briefs down just enough that his cock springs straight up. Your jaw drops open at the size of him. Pictures couldn’t compare to the real thing, your mouth instantly salivating at his thick length, his bulbous tip the perfect color, matching the shade of his lips and dripping with precum. You moan at the sight of him, wrapping your fingers around him, you gently stroke, sticking your tongue out to taste the bit of liquid oozing.

Namjoon hisses at the feeling, you teasing him with kitten licks. His grasp on your hair gets tighter, “Please don’t tease, baby. Daddy has waited so long to have those pretty lips around his cock.” You took this as a cue to finally encase your lips around him, starting with his tip. His chest rumbles as a moan erupts from within. You swirl your tongue around the tip, sucking tightly while massaging his balls.

“Fuck!” Without warning, Joon bucks his hips upward to get himself further into your mouth, his grip on your hair becomes tighter as he pushes your head down further to take his entire length inside your mouth. You’re taken by surprise at his pace, and almost choke, as your hands now drop on top of his thighs lightly grazing with your nails while Namjoon fucks your face. Literally. You shut your eyes wanting to focus on keeping your gag reflex under control, keeping your throat relaxed, your saliva oozing out and coating Namjoon’s cock and balls creating lewd noises within your tight-spaced dorm.

“Shit yes... Look at Daddy with that pretty fucking face of yours.” He stops his thrusting, holding your head down still. You manage to open your eyes and move your gaze toward his. With water eyes, streams of tears flow down your flushed cheeks. You’re on the brink of losing your breath. The sight of you full of his cock, almost out of breath makes him want to blow his load all over your face. But if he’s going to cum, he has to inside of you.

“Fuck yeah, just like that.” Namjoon finally releases his grip from you, resulting in you letting out a massive gasp, coughing to sync your breathing back to normal. A trail of spit still connecting from his soaked cock to your lips. “Shorts off now.” Namjoon demands. You slip your finger under the hem to pull them down until he interrupts, “Turn around so I can see that ass.”

You jump slightly at his deep voice. His act of dominance making you clench around nothing as you squeeze your thighs together, needing some type of friction. This doesn’t go unnoticed. Your shorts fall to the floor, revealing your bottom that’s clothed with a pair of silk, purple panties that are cut short enough to show your full cheeks. Suddenly, you feel a sharp slap to your right cheek, making you whimper out loud.

“Look at you all horny and desperate for your own best friends dick. I should fuck you until you can’t think of anything else other than my dick.” And another harsh slap.

“Mmm, fuck!” Another slap. Namjoon reaches forward to aggressively pull your panties down. He lifts you up and carries you over his shoulder to your bedroom, throwing you on the bed. Your pussy throbs in anticipation, loving how rough he’s being with you.

Namjoon wastes no time as he aggressively pulls you forward to the edge of the bed, spreading your legs open as wide as they can go. He uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips open, revealing yourself all to him. Pulsing and soaked. “Mmm. Such a pretty little pussy. I’ve waited so long to finally bury my dick inside of you.” He coos while stroking your hair and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, while caressing your cheek. He uses his other hand to grab his cock, slapping your pussy with his cock. Your hips naturally bucking to get some type of friction. He continues coating his cock in your juices, smirking as you whimper in anticipation.

“Pretty baby, so horny and wet for Daddy’s cock.” Your fingers anxiously grip the bedsheets, as the head of his cock prods at your entrance. Namjoon hisses as he easily slips inside of your tight kitty. Your eyes shut closed, lips parting, “Oh my fuck,” you moan while gripping his toned, caramel arms. His girthy length offering a slight burn, finally over-rided by a nostalgic tinglyness. The feeling is like no other. To have someone you trust, someone you care about, offering their entire self to you. To have all of Namjoon within you.

“So warm. So wet. Fuck... You feel amazing, ____.” Namjoon fucks you with long and deep strokes, making the bed creak with each thrust. He continues this slow pace, relishing in the feel of your walls clamping around his stiff shaft. You know he’s trying his hardest not to cum so fast. However, the tingly feeling within your core has skyrocketed, and you’re ready to burst any moment now.

“P-please,” you whimper, attempting to move your hips along with his at a faster pace.

“What does my pretty baby want, hm?” Namjoon notices your expression and comes to a halt.

“Please fuck me harder, Joonie, please!” you whine while grinding your hips to create some type of friction. Namjoon’s cock twitches at your desperation for him. “Have you forgotten your manners, princess?” He asks, with a smirk pinching your left cheek.

You groan in response. “Please, Daddy! Just need to be fucked harder, please! My pussy needs you.”

“That’s a good girl,” He pats your head and slips out of you, gripping your waist to flip you over flat on your tummy. He holds his weight on top of you, spreading your legs open to push his cock entirely into you. The angle of the position creates a more “deep” feeling, He’s so deep inside of you, you promise you feel him in your tummy. Your mouth flying agape, Namjoon leans forward to whisper in your ear while pounding from on top. “Be careful what you ask for.”

“You. Just. Might. Get. It.” He emphasizes his deep thrusts after each word. Your cries are muffled within the sheets while Joon continues to ram you from on top, his lower pelvic area literally slamming your body further and further into the full sized-bed. “Ungh, fuck y-yes! Please don’t stop!” Your dorm neighbors can probably hear your cries but at this point you don’t even care.

“Take this fucking dick like the good little cock-hungry slut you are, pretty baby.” Namjoon moans at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him, drenching him in your sticky wetness. So tight, and slippery for his thick cock. His cock throbs relentlessly from the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass mixed with your cries of his name. Nearly on the verge of cumming, he lifts you up, bending you over with your ass now up and facing him. He bends down to lick a stripe from your pussy to your ass.

Your legs tremble at the sudden action. He works his tongue all over your folds, sucking and licking your pussy lips, while slipping inside of your entrance, tongue fucking you. You reach behind to grip his hair and grind yourself against his face. Namjoon trails his fingers to find your clit, slowly rubbing it in circles. Then latches his lips around your bud, sucking and licking your as if his life depended on it. His moans sending vibrations through you entirely. He grips your ass and gives your cheeks a few harsh slaps, and that’s what sends you completely over the edge.

“Daddy.. Cumming! Fuck.” Your toes curl, legs tremble, eyes roll back, and you claw the bedsheets as your orgasm washes over your entire body. He lets go of your clit with a pop, and uses his fingers to rub your clit vigorously, riding you through your high. “Yes, baby. Keep cumming for, Daddy. Doesn’t it feel good, hm? To have your best friend make you cum so hard?” You continue calling out his name.

“Yes! Fuck, fuck.. Please!”

You push his hand away, the overstimulation kicking in. Your body continues shaking, recovering from your orgasm. He lifts you up into the doggy position, gripping a handful of your hair and rams himself inside of you. He starts with a brutal pace, fucking you senseless, slipping swear words from his lips. You gasp at the sensitivity from your previous orgasm, not able to form coherent words from how hard Namjoon is fucking you. Namjoon’s thrusts gradually grow sloppier, as he’s on the brink of his own orgasm.

“Come here,” He pulls completely out of you and lays on his back, guiding you on top of him. You stuff his cock inside of you, whimpering at the feel of your clit brushing against his pelvic area - still sensitive from your orgasm. You take your time to ride him, going at your own pace - slow and steady. Namjoon uses one hand to grip your waist. “Want to feel you cum around my cock.” He slips his fingers on your clit, rubbing it in circles. You instantly jolt forward from the sensitivity, shaking your head.

“Joon! C-Can’t, it’s too much!”

“I think you can. You’ve been such a good girl, just cum one more time for Daddy, okay? I promise it will feel so good.”

You grasp his wrist, wanting to push his hand away, but you can’t. Too lost in his touch. He licks his fingers and rubs your clit again, with a slightly more pressure. His cock still sheathed fully inside of you, twitching within your walls. Your third orgasm approaches and it hits you stronger than before.

“Mmm, Namjoon!” Your nails find themselves on his chest, scratching his pecs as your entire body shakes tremendously, your pussy pulses rapidly around Namjoon’s dick. Your body collapses on top of his, out of strength and still trembling.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” Namjoon exclaims, he moans your name as his cock twitches itself inside of you, coating your walls with his warm cum. He pants, out of breath, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead.

You both lie there for what seems like awhile, regaining your breathing and taking a moment to process what just happened. Namjoons member falls soft, eventually slipping out of you. Both of your bodies pressed together and binded by perspiration. He gathers up the strength to caress your strands. His heart flutters at the warmth of your fingers drawing circles on his chest. The thud of his heart beating from within him causes you to lose yourself in your thoughts...

What have we just done? And how will we ever go back from this?

#kpopwritersclub #magicshopnet #bts smut #rm smut #namjoon smut #namjoon fluff #rm fluff #bts oneshot #bangtanlalaland #did i really just add an expensive girl reference #what the fuck #is wrong with me

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