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itsmoonphobic · 3 years ago

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Dream SMP characters and my interpretation of them:

-Techno: The smell of Dirt and soil,blood,wine and old books. Silk pillowcases,golden jewelry,mosaics,stained fingertips, grand staircases,scented candles,storyteller,lazy smiles, secretive,slow dancing,sad resting face,elegant language,cold weather,confident,doubts himself,philosophy, messy braids,glowdust flakes, poetry,graceful movements,neat and cursive handwriting, greek mythology, oriental music,pale skin,libraries,sarcasm, long-lasting friendships,quotes,frosted windows,layering clothes, know-it-all,rude but endearing,pile of papers,cherry blossoms,muted colors,overthinks everything,devotion,logical thinking,insomniac,scattered mind,castle walls,laid back,tired eyes,long debates,show over tell,lingering touches,rulebreaker, dirty palms,old movies freezing feet,old habits,late nights studying,early riser,skips meals,eye bags,tea with milk,velvet jackets,dimly lit by streetlights,ancient wood floors,flowy curtains,art museums, gravely morning voice,echos in the middle of nowhere,sleepy whispers,nostalgia everywhere,red lipstick stains,loves animal more than people,calm and quiet, healing stones,parked car conversations,sharp jaw,obsessed with memes,violins,doves, doves,floats instead of walks,unbroken promises,twisting and winding hair around fingers,nail biting, repeating phrases,mist secret scars,rumors,always wearing earphones,metaphorical, emotions fragile as a flower, speaks with his eyes,fluttery eyelashes,dog lover,forehead kisses,calligraphy,pretty knives,cares too much,lopsided grins,messy desks,talks for hours no,rolling his eyes all the time,powerful strides,wants to conquer the world,slender hands,good grades, dusty book covers,wax stamped envelopes,vintage mirrors

-Phil: The smell of cold air,pine trees and sandalwood.Dead birds and mothballs,stops on the sidewalk to make sure nobody is left behind,morning person,herbal teas,crows,eats breakfast outside,constellations,family portraits on walls, chirping and whistling,crime documentaries,cool father figure, graveyards,weeping angels,meteor shower,many friends but only a single close one,contagious laugh,fragile teacups,fog, early mornings,fuzzy blankets,springs of thyme,bare feet, empty streets,rosemary stems,flickering lanterns,burnt wood bowls,feather collector,antique silverware,a sky full of stars, skylights,torn pages,overstuffed bookshelves,makes you feel comfortable whenever you talk to him,organized,full of ideas, believes in magic,gives the best advice,lost in his own way, warm hugs,scrapbooks and bullet journals,old cars,soft features,daydreaming,bright eyes,getting lost in the woods,moonlight,self knitted sweaters, stargazing on tailgates,the universe,hand in hand with wandering hearts, garage sales,questioning life but feeling at peace,attic bedrooms and haylofts,pursuing science and desiring art, photo albums,hopeless romantic,dark chocolate,open windows and quirky morning rituals,actually knows what brunch is, succulents,a kind-hearted loner,free-spirit,plaid button-ups, always ready to let you rant,abandons projects quickly, complicated past,bold moves,goes with the flow,aims for things that seem unachievable,lives in extremes,knowing smiles,constantly busy with something new,soft touches,love at first sight,naps alot,subsequent tea stains,sparkly eyes, abandoned barns,handwritten notes,feather quills,fascination with the sky,whispering secrets to the wind,great with kids, takes a backpack everywhere,hugs trees,big winter coats,road trips,knows tons of medical info,bites his nails,comforting presence,lost souls,city lights from a high rise

-Wilbur: The smell of fire,smoke,caramel and coffee. Stands up for people who can't for themselves,emotional wreck,loves his family too much but still yells at them,soft turtlenecks,sits in different spots every time he eats dinner,chipped nailpolish, songwriter,probably depressed,wakes up in the middle of the night to write down random thoughts,heartbroken teenager songs,dark psychology and deep meanings,globes and maps, wants to travel and make lots of memories,curls of steam, earbuds in,spattered ink,good singer,keeps to himself,old music and dusty vinyl,the type of person that you could stare at for hours,loud laugh,ride or die,dreams about his future, believes in fresh starts and new beginnings, messy and tangled hair,summer nights,soft features,deep thinker and dimples, having crushes,musicals and theater, half finished diaries and laptop stickers,mixtapes,quirky love notes, secretly kinda insane,always ready for coffee,thrift shops, beachy waves, bonfires,probably drives too fast,cutoff jeans, cream and sugar,nude colors,always creating new problems for himself, fights for equality,long debates and tired eyes, tapping a rhythm and humming quietly,spends all his time on social media,beanie galore,trench coats,foggy glasses,cozy sweaters, dancing around his room to the Beatles,looking out the window when the sun is setting,birkenstocks,guitar strumming on a warm summer evening,bells and chimes,subtle sadness, the feeling of diving into a deep pool,perfect proportions,too many playlists,holding hands,pretty boy,sew on patches and bomber jackets,candid photos,warm sun on bare skin,dancing silhouettes on the sunsets,beach walks at midnight,messy but cozy room,different mood every minute,singing his favorite song at the top of his lungs,sharp grins,haunted houses, paranormal stuff,late night snack runs with friends,explores creeks and lakes,double checks everything he does,walking through hot sand,backyard campfires,acoustic songs,photo booths,train platforms at night,s'mores,sun bleached arbors

-Tommy: The smell of plastic,fresh cut grass and musk. Does the bare minimum at School,unless genuinely interested in a topic,doodles on the side of his paper,movie marathons,empty coca cola bottles everywhere,rope swings,glossy nailpolish,lots of energy,life of the party, kidcore ,can always make you laugh,loves photography,eyestrain and bright colors,bruised knees and untied shoelaces,paperballs in class,brand new red converse,denim jackets,pins and clips,chalk drawings in the middle of the road,every text contains emojis, garden sprinklers,graffiti,wreck this journal,vibrant dyed hair, scribbles and highlighter pens,carnivals,involed in many things, watermelon flavored anything,loves to climb trees,screaming on playgrounds,oversized t-shirts,stained glass windows, anklets,skateboards and hula hoops,milkshakes on the front porch,social butterfly,always in a hurry,pinkie promises,tangled headphones,melted crayons and gummy bears,bean bags and hummingbirds,spinning around till he gets dizzy,chaotic and crazy yet so fun to be around,rushing into things too quickly, roller coasters and derbies,doesn't get knocked back by criticism,cans of fizzy drinks and neon lights,skips school,tye dye shirts and nitendo games,impulse and class clown,sticks stickers on stranger's things,pickpockets his close friends,has to carry a walkie-talkie around with him at all times,sleepovers and sneaking out through windows,pockets full of change and random buttons,stands out in crowds and makes friends easily, pretends to be fearless but is scared of the littlest things,trips and rips his jeans daily,uno cards,social butterfly,music discs, fights with his family but would actually kill for them,broken handwriting,flannels and jerseys around his waist

-Tubbo: The smell of honey,fresh bread and citrus. Lowkey soft, hugging a teddy bear,pressed flowers,eats alot of bread,big hoodies,fairy lights and blanket forts,prank calls while holding in your laughter,beeswax candles,sidewalk dandelions,gentle cuddles on the couch,pastel yellow and cute doodles,flower crowns and diasy chains,plays the ukulele,fascinated by bees and supports local coffee shops,outdoorsy sunshine addict, sparklers and iced lemonade,festivals with fireworks and fireflies in mason jars,homework done as soon as its assigned, watercolor paintings,giggling uncontrollably,long hugs and lazy cartoon afternoons,park dates and forehead kisses,cutting pants into shorts,messy wild hair and pear lollipops,has tiny random braids decorated with golden yarn,hearing the crinkle of leaves underfoot,suprise piggy back rides,adult swim shows and lip gloss stains,being goofy without meaning to,bounces in his step and stops to pet stray animals,baked bread and washi tape bracelets,bike rides and summer picnics,rolling down a hill in the spring and bringing home grass stains on his jeans, waving at someone across a crowded room,spontaneous hang outs and self made clay rings,sitting in the warm sunlit grass on early spring mornings,rock painting and hiding them for other people to find,picking apples from trees but needing to be held up in order to reach one

-Ranboo: The smell of peppermint tea,denim and rain. Is there for everyone but never themselves,regrets things they said but can never find the nerves to apologize,clumps of mascara and winged eyeliner,writes down every tiny thing in notebooks, loves children and their friends,forgetting that they already grabbed a waterbottle,drawing on condensation windows,rainy days and puddles,always on the edge of a breakdown,elevator music and long limbs,old tape recordings and cassettes,moss covered ruins and greenhouses,wanting to be in multiple places at the same time,different colored socks,long hugs and head pats,reading under the covers,collages and spray paint,record players and walks alone through the woods,loves playing by creeks and collecting stones,always wondering and worrying about things they shouldn't,vivid dreams and leather jackets, silver necklaces and piercings,snoozing their alarm clock, seeing the moon in the early morning,blurry photographs and windswept hair,downpours and comfortable silence,wrapping gifts and handing them over with shaking hands,sitting on a rooftop and spontaneous plans,lofi sounds and long train roads,deja vu moments,randomly dissapears and sipping tea, cold concrete and city parks,tickets and brochures from places they visited,dusty parchment and desperately trying to be a good person,wikipedia articles and lace-up boots,often loses track of time while talking to people they love,sings to the radio and avoids conflict if possible,can't sit still for five minutes, perpetually in an emo phase and knows more than they let on, hawaiian shirts,henna tattoos and sparkling water,sleeping in complete darkness and the relief of falling into bed,midnight thunderstorms and anticipation for the coming day,lucky charms and the sound of rain hitting the windows

-Dream: The smell of apples,eucalyptus,vanilla and green tea. Freckles and smiley faces,glow sticks and wrinkled linen, probably a really good singer,wild laughter and jellyfish, popular,tanned skin and cruising with the top down,doesn't take shit from anyone,analytical and self assured,beachy waves and dreamy sunsets,running barefoot,likes being active and on the go at all times,sassy and dramatic as fuck,dream catchers and hammocks,glow in the dark stickers on his phonecase, feisty and a sense of danger,brought home stray cats when he was a child,falling in love with strangers,waking up early and continue laying on the bed,golden hours and 4pm naps,soft aching hands burried in messy hair,center of attention,static and heavy breathing,old percy jackson books under the bed, throwing pebbles at the closed windows of his friends' room, retro diners at 2am,adrenaline junkie and nighttime thriver,will go insane if cooped up indoors for too long,deadlines till last minute,oversleeping and coming home past midnight,naturally a really good surfer,hugs from behind and neck kisses,checking the fridge at 1am,ice cream in bed and cat cuddles,always picks up over facetime

Might make more parts for some of the other guys :)

#mcyt #minecraft youtubers #minecraft #tommyinnit #dreamsmp #wilbursoot #philza #mcytblr #sbi #technoblade #dream #dreamwastaken #ranboo #tubbo #moon is back with all of his awesomeness losers #long post

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lady-charinette · 3 years ago

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Dinner for Two Chapter 12: The Purrfect Plan

Previously on ‘Dinner for Two’…

An idea popped into her head suddenly, “Hey, wait, I thought you found your mystery cat. Didn’t you say that professor guy was Chat Noir?”

A miserable frown marred the designer’s face and she gently hit her forehead against the table in frustration, “I’m not even sure what I found, Alya. Erik’s…alright, I guess. It’s just, he constantly makes fun of Nath and I don’t like that. He acts different than when we’re in the restaurant.”

“Maybe it’s a thing between professors? They do study in similar fields.” Alya shrugged.

Marinette huffed, “That’s what I thought too, but Nathaniel had that haunted, ‘that guy harassed me’ look about him when I mentioned his name. They really don’t get along at all.” She pushed aside her coffee and rested her chin against her propped up hands miserably, “Maybe I should drop it, maybe I was wrong about Chat, after all.”

Alya’s brow shot to her hairline, “What?! You can’t be serious, Marinette! You’ve talked about that guy for the last weeks! You’re totally smitten!”

“But what if I misjudged his character? What if he’s actually a jerk? I can’t date or like someone like that.” She pouted, looking truly conflicted. Alya hated seeing her like that.

The reporter stood up from her seat and walked around her kitchen table, wrapping an arm around her best friend reassuringly, “Hey, don’t be like that, I’m sure it’s all just a big misunderstanding.” She rubbed her cheek against Marinette’s affectionately, “Besides, my best friend doesn’t just fall for anyone, either way he’s a great guy or there is no guy at all!” she grinned and Marinette giggled, hugging Alya back.

“Thanks Alya, you always know what to say to make me more confident.” With a playful smirk, Marinette gently nudged her best friend, “By the way, Nathaniel is giving you competition, he started learning how to cheer me up too.”

Alya clenched her hand into a fist, “That punk! How dare he! Oh, he should watch his ass when I come into one of his lectures! That paperball is going straight for tomato child!”

Marinette laughed.

Adrien’s chemistry professor was perplexed when the part time model handed him a thick stack of papers neatly stapled together. “This is…?”

Adrien beamed, with eyebags that could go for days and suspiciously slouching feet, but beamed, “My assignment I’m supposed to hand in, professor.”

His professor did a double take, excusing himself to browse through his schedule and class list to see for when the assignment was due. “That’s in two weeks Adrien!”

The blond smiled tiredly, “Yes, I know, I wanted to hand it in sooner because I have other assignments to complete…I’m sorry did I inconvenience you?”

The taller man quickly stood, placing Adrien’s assignment on his desk and shaking his head, “No, no, that’s fine. I was just so surprised, you always hand in your work, but it’s still early and I know how busy you are.” He smiled kindly at his student, old worry lines deepening the more he noticed Adrien’s demeanor, “Are you getting enough sleep? If I remember correctly, you have another part time job to run to.”

Adrien nodded, straightening his stance. “Yes, I do, but oh sleep- yes of course, I’m getting enough sleep. Thank you.” He stumbled, shaking his head as if to clear the fog before giving a decisive nod, “I’m…working on that.”

His professor chuckled, patting Adrien’s shoulder kindly, “I know exhausted students when I see them, I know you’re well liked by the other professors, so don’t overwork yourself if you don’t hand in some assignments on time. I’m sure the colleagues would understand and give you more time if you needed, Adrien.”

The young man looked bashful, shuffling his feet before planting them firmly on the floor, adjusting his bag slung over his shoulder, “That’s alright, I can manage the rest well. I’ll be looking forward to your next lecture on analytical chemistry!”

The professor waved him off with a smile, shaking his head. “I’m glad you seem to enjoy chemistry as much as you do physics studies. Not many in the physics department do.” Adrien was certain his professor was thinking of another colleague, judging by the sour expression on his face.

Adrien waved goodbye, jogging up the steps towards the large double doors of the lecture hall. He still had time to get ready for the next lecture and grab a bite to eat.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Hey babe, aren’t you supposed to be at work already?” the sound of keys jiggling accompanied her boyfriend’s voice as Alya turned to the opposite direction they usually took to her workplace at the newspaper company.

She smiled, standing on tiptoes to plant a quick but affectionate peck on the DJ’s cheek. “Nope! I took the day off, gotta do some…investigating.” She grinned, a grin Nino learned to recognize from miles away.

It meant she was in ‘reporter’ mode and that any and all efforts to possibly stop her were futile.

With a resigned sigh, Nino pulled her closer and kissed her hair and forehead, shaking his head. “Alright, but be careful, don’t overdo it, okay?”

Alya’s grin brightened and she nodded, jogging in the opposite direction while waving. “Don’t worry!”

Nino sighed again, a longer more exhausted sigh, scratching his neck worriedly. “I always do…”

With that, he shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly made his way to the studio.

Pierre’s day had been as inconspicuous as most, and when another customer approached his desk, he was quick to grab pen and notepad and open the latest entry in the guest book.

The auburn-haired woman stopped in front of him and gave him a kind smile, but her eyes seemed to be all over the place, scanning the room, analyzing, as if searching for something.

“Hello! I didn’t make a reservation but is it possible to get a free seat?”

Pierre didn’t need to eye the guest book to answer, this lady came before rush hour, so there were many seats available. He smiled politely, “Of course mademoiselle, follow me, please.” Pierre led the woman to the nearest available seat, handing her the menu and already jotting down her order.

“Um, excuse me, may I use your unique service today?”

Pierre blinked once, before nodding. “Certainly, which one would it be?”

The glint in the woman’s eyes reminded Pierre of a fox eyeing its prey, “Is the black cat in use?”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

The smile stretching the woman’s lips reminded Pierre of a fox after a successful hunt, “Perfect,” he wasn’t sure what it was about this woman, but her inquisitive nature befuddled him.

Pierre excused himself with the promise to return with the lady’s order; a simple breakfast menu consisting of a cappuccino, orange juice, baguette with fresh fig jam, pain au chocolat, and a honeyed fruit salad.

As the waiter left, Alya took the time to look about the restaurant. It hadn’t changed much from the last time Nino and her went here a year ago, the walls had a fresh color and new chairs better fitting for the overall ambience but it stayed largely the same. She looked at the yellow tablecloth, discreetly taking out her notepad with her pen placed on her lap. As a passionate reporter, Alya never forgot conversations she had with clients, but she wanted to be safe with this one, since it seemed like Marinette was torn about knowing two contradicting sides of Chat Noir.

Speaking of the devil…

A sizeable black plush toy with large green eyes was carried by another waiter while Pierre was carrying her breakfast and Alya didn’t know what to feel more excited about, her impending interrogation or the delicious food.

Once situated opposite of her on the chair, the two waiters left with a ‘bon appetit’ on their tongues, Alya throwing back a happy word of gratitude for the food.

It wasn’t until Alya was sipping her coffee that she began the conversation before the toy could, “Alright, now listen up, I know there’s a vague humanoid person behind those fuzzy ears and I would appreciate it if you strain the human ears for me.”

There was radio silence on the toy’s part, so Alya continued, cool as a cucumber and fiery as a chili pepper, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, sweet blue eyes and dark hair, a smile that could summon angels and cure the ill, ring any bells for you, kitty cat?”

Alya waited for an answer from the human behind the toy, slicing through her poached eggs and internally delighting in the visual beauty and the savory texture in her mouth when she took a bite.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was too early for Plagg to be awake, too early to start work, too early to even think of work. And yet, here he was, staring at Adrien’s screen in mounting horror, the image of an auburn-haired woman with glasses glaring him down with all the bitterness of a woman hellbent on revenge.

Revenge for what, Plagg didn’t know, he just wished he wasn’t in the middle of this while trying not to starve to death.

Only minutes ago, he had been pressing buttons on his computer, in his little room filled with the smell of cheese, working like a slave deprived of his most basic needs.

Pierre had graciously brought him his post breakfast, as Plagg liked to call it, something with cut meat, perhaps a vegetable or two, but most importantly cheese. A lot of melted cheese. So much cheese that Adrien’s nutritionist would’ve balked at his choice of food and promptly demanded a refund. And possibly counseling after dealing with Plagg and his unholy list of food he ate on a weekly basis.

He was working for two today, he needed all the energy he could get.

It seemed not even his meal would be enough to replace all the life that seemed to have trickled from his hands like sand when the woman began speaking to the Chat Noir toy like she was all too eager to drive that butter knife anywhere else other than her poached egg.

He was a goner.

••••••••••••••••••••••••

“No answer, huh?” Alya regarded the plushie curiously, wondering, for a brief moment, if Marinette had been telling the truth about her lengthy talks with the doll. No, of course she did, but it seemed like Chat Noir was in no mood to talk to her. She knew they had automated responses, but this one didn’t even seem to have those since all she had heard from it was silence.

Alya glanced down at her notepad, thinking of all the questions that burned at the tip of her tongue, fueled by the fierce need to protect her best friend, to get answers for all the questions Marinette had, an answer to all the confused feelings that plagued her. She deserved that, so Alya pressed on.

“I know I’m not the person you normally talk to, I don’t even know if you will talk to me today, but I’m here to get some answers for Marinette, since you weren’t here the last time she came. You have no idea how worried and confused Marinette is right now.” Alya’s tone softened, if slightly, she wasn’t sure which approach would work best to tickle answers out of the plushie, but she would try the hard and the soft way.

“So, here’s one question I have for you: the first time you met up with Marinette in a café, you talked badly of Nathaniel. Is this a rivalry thing between professors? Or are you just a jerk?”

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Plagg was debating whether to call Pierre and get the toy back, or risk suffering mental injury. He was glad this woman wasn’t able to physically reach him, he was sure he would be losing more than just his mind.

He had a hunch today wouldn’t be a normal day, it didn’t even start normally. No sooner had he arrived at work, he was being starved and had to beg Pierre to fix him a meal after breakfast. Plagg shook his head, running a hand down his face to focus on the issue at hand.

Nathaniel? Who in the world was Nathaniel? Was he someone Adrien knew? Obviously, but he knew the kid, Adrien rarely talked bad about someone and even if he did, he never did it behind their backs. Adrien talking badly about someone while on a date with a woman? Plagg doubted it.

And yet, this woman seemed to believe he did.

Plagg leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin, food temporarily forgotten. She mentioned a rivalry between professors, Adrien wasn’t even a professor, he was still a student. This must be some misunderstanding. This Nathaniel didn't seem to be a model but a professor.

Wait, met up in a café?

Plagg leaned over and checked his phone, scrolling through all the messages he exchanged with Adrien, he tried to remember if Adrien ever mentioned anything about meeting up with pigtails girl before, but nothing sprung to mind.

Was he getting old?

Adrien never mentioned that. Plagg was sure of it.

The kid would be over the moon if he had met up with Marinette in person. Adrien would’ve been a mumbling, panicking fool. He would’ve harassed Plagg about dating etiquette, not that Plagg had many, and yet he had a girlfriend. He would ask Tikki for better advice, after being fed up with Plagg of course. He would get ready two weeks beforehand, choosing which outfits and cologne to wear, how to style his hair, having pep talks with Nino over how to talk to women.

And calling Plagg in the middle of the night while the middle-aged man slept peacefully, to harass him over popular places people visited for platonic dates and if it was too old fashioned to walk her home and kiss her hand. At which point he would squeal like a girl and hang up, leaving a grumpy, confused Plagg to stare at his phone.

But none of that happened. Nothing happened.

This had to be a mistake.

Just when Plagg wanted to press the speaker button, the woman spoke again.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

After a long pregnant silence from the motionless toy, Alya clenched the material of her skirt in her hands, fists shaking in mounting rage.

“Not answering that either? You want to convince me that all those talks you two had and how she talked about you all these weeks was just an act?” Alya’s temper flared, nails now digging into the tablecloth, her poached egg momentarily forgotten.

There was static noise, as if someone was ripping paper and then a robotic-like voice sounded from the toy.

“Oh mon dieu, mademoiselle, you have quite a temper don’t you?”

Alya’s eyes narrowed, folding her hands over the other and resting her elbows on the table, “I’m all ears, cat.”

Plagg loved to dig his own grave, it even had several floors, one of which was the devil’s personal residence. Plagg was sure after this, he would have to pay his horned buddy a visit.

Should he try to channel his inner Adrien? The radiant, carefree, dreamy spirit of youth?

No, he would make things worse. Until Adrien got here, he had to set things straight for the kid’s sake.

With a deep breath, Plagg spoke.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

“What a clawsome day we have, huh? Purrty fine meowrning, right?”

Alya tapped her foot, eyeing the toy suspiciously, did it have a camera too or was it just a speaker for the voice?

“Or should I say, an eggcelent morning.”

So it had a built in camera.

Alya was mildly disturbed, with the new knowledge of a person behind this doll actually watching her eat and rage at it until now.

Gathering back her courage and anger, Alya adjusted her glasses. “Quit it with the puns, will you answer my questions or not?”

Silence followed her words, Alya thought the doll wouldn’t offer any answers she was seeking, but just a minute later, she was proven wrong.

“Sorry lady, you uh-this isn’t the cat you think you’re talking to.”

“What?” was this a bad joke? Had Marinette’s hunch been right? Was this person an impostor?

“The real owner of…uh the black cat is unavailable right now, I’m just filling in for him. But every time pigt-Miss Dupain-Cheng was here, it was the real him, trust me.”

Should she trust him? This was only a doll she was talking to, she had no way of knowing who was behind the voice, if this man was telling the truth.

Then again, she had nothing much to go on.

Crossing her arms and leaning back, Alya pondered her next movements, ire and ego sufficiently snuffed now that the man she had actually wanted to confront wasn’t even here, and she was talking to a third party.

…A third party who might just have the answers she needed.

“Hey, kitty cat.”

“What?” the voice originated from the plushie, sounding mildly grouchy.

Alya brushed the tone off, leaning forward to write in her notepad. “I have some questions I think you can answer, I’ll try to hold off on the difficult ones.”

There was another moment of silence, before the toy spoke, “…What kinda questions?”

“First, tell me if this switcheroo thing is an often occurrence and if you inform my best friend of this if it happens?” sticking her tongue out in concentration, Alya held her pen close to the paper.

The answer followed immediately. “What kind of a cat do you hold me for?! Today was the first time since he, uh Chat Noir, was busy.”

Alya scribbled the answer done, satisfied with the speed at which he answered.

“Okay, why are you a jerk?”

A scoff sounded, “It’s in my genetic make-up. Next.”

Snorting in amusement, Alya continued, “Did ‘Chat Noir’ ever had any intentions of meeting up with Marinette in person?”

“He has to keep his identity secret, so unless he could fully trust her with keeping his secret, I don’t think so. Or at least I would stop him, he wears his heart on his sleeve, at one point he would crack like an egg.”

Alya wrote that down too, ‘secret identity’, ‘no meeting’, ‘crack like an egg’.

The young woman rubbed her chin in thought, half the questions flying out the window now that the person she wanted to interrogate wasn’t here.

“What does ‘Chat Noir’ look like?”

“Oh, god-like. A model really. Sun kissed skin, corn golden hair, forest green eyes and all the smhuck.”

Alya rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee, “Are you giving me false information?” she stared at the soulless eyes of the doll, annoyed she wasn’t getting her questions answered.

“…Pawsibly.”

“So, you have to protect his identity that much? Alright, I’ll leave this for Marinette to figure out but can you at least answer me one question?”

Plagg mulled the suggestion over, before pressing down on the speaker and replying, “Fine.”

“Did you ever meet up with Marinette in person or do you know if he ever met up with her?”

“Nope, cat’s honor. The ki-he never met up with her personally, if he had I wouldn’t be trying to hide his identity, now would I?”

Alya sighed heavily, leaning her head back to massage her forehead in frustration.

If Chat Noir never met up with Marinette, who the hell was the guy Marinette met up with?

Her thoughts were interrupted when the doll spoke again.

“Now, let me ask a question, miss Reporter.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••

Plagg tapped his fingers against the control panel, never letting the woman on the screen out of sight.

According to this woman, some guy apparently met up with pigtails girl and pretended to be Adrien?

Did somebody know their secret? Did someone leak it? No, they kept it heavily guarded, they always make sure no one catches them entering or leaving the restaurant.

If this man was someone unknown to them, maybe he knew Marinette? But if Marinette didn’t know him, was he her stalker?

Plagg felt a headache sneaking up on him, all this talk of identities and possible imposters made him want to just eat cheese and sleep.

“Hm, what to do with you?” he mused aloud, fingers still tapping his desk.

If he wanted to gain anything from this conversation, Plagg had to get as much information as he could.

He pulled the microphone close to his mouth.

••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Sure, spill.” Alya leaned back, notepad resting on the table next to her half finished breakfast.

It had only been an hour, but she felt like half the day passed. Interrogations always made time pass by faster.

Finally, the cat asked, “Do you have a photo of the man who claimed to be Chat Noir? Did Miss Dupain-Cheng show you a photo?”

Alya frowned, mentally slapping herself. “Uh…no. No she didn’t. Just that he was good-looking but seemed to act weird, like, downright mean to Nathaniel, Nathaniel’s her friend and co-worker by the way.”

The doll was silent, seemingly deep in thought over her answer, before he poised his next question. “Yeah, no way that’s the same guy. Chat Noir would never disrespect someone like that, especially if he’s a friend. He’s too nice for that.”

Leaning forward again, Alya rested her chin on her palm, “So, what do you suggest we do Puss in Boots?”

Another moment of silence before the replacement Chat Noir answered, “Tail her.”

Alya blinked, “What?”

“Tail your friend when she goes out with that guy, try to get a photo.”

“What will you do with that information anyway? Are you from the secret services?” Alya froze, what if this guy and this Chat Noir fellow were some men with secretive backgrounds?

Alya snorted in amusement. What were the odds of them being some cliché secret agents? She would buy the story with Chat Noir being a model any day.

“If I were, I wouldn’t be sitting here posing as a plushie talking to people in a restaurant, would I?”

Someone was grouchy. Alya guessed this individual was either an old grump, or just a grump.

“That’s something a secret service agent would say to throw suspicion off themselves,” Alya teased playfully, before clearing her throat. “Anyway, fine, I’ll try to get a photo, but what will you tell Chat Noir when he comes back?”

“Exactly what happened, he has to know there’s a copycat out there. What will you tell Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

Alya glanced down at her notes, “The truth and nothing but the truth! What kind of a best friend would I be if I didn’t tell her what I discovered today?”

“Don’t tell her anything yet, let her stay in the dark until you get that photo of the copycat, then tell her the truth.”

Frowning in dismay at the prospect of lying to her friend, Alya shook her head, “But why? What if she gets hurt with that weird guy? We don’t know who he is or what he wants from her!”

“If he wanted to do something, he would’ve done that already. No sense in playing cat and mouse forever, right? I think your friend will be fine until you get his picture.”

“But why is the picture so important? Can’t she just ditch the guy and come here again as if nothing happened?” Alya didn’t understand why he insisted on that picture.

“Look, if that guy shadows Miss Dupain-Cheng one day and knows to what restaurant she goes to, he could potentially discover Chat Noir and I. And that’s something I wanna avoid, so get that picture of him and I’ll deal with him.”

The edge from the robotic voice made Alya’s skin crawl, “I knew it! You’re a hitman! A muscle for hire! Will you kill the guy if you find out who he is?” Alya slapped her hand on the table, ducking her head and mouthing an apology when nearby patrons glared at her.

Plagg swirled around in his chair, coming to a stop facing the monitor again.

He smiled, chuckling as he gave his answer through the speaker. “Not kill, but I’ll deal with him for trying to stir up trouble. Don’t worry, nothing illegal. I want to keep a low profile too.”

He waited patiently for the woman’s answer, seeing her mulling it over in her head.

He knew he sounded shady, maybe even downright dangerous, but Plagg would not take any chances in getting to that guy before he got to them and possibly endangered Adrien this way.

“Fine, I’ll try to arrange it next week when she meets up with him. If you break our contract, I’ll personally hunt you down and hold you accountable, got it pussycat?”

The woman pointed her finger at the camera, coming dangerously close to one of the cat’s eyes.

Plagg smirked, pressing the speaker on the microphone to talk. “Got it, miss reporter. Hope you can keep a secret.”

He grew more amused when the woman gathered her things, grabbing her untouched croissant, “I wouldn’t be good at my job if I couldn’t, pussycat.”

With that, she left with the promise to bring the photo and Plagg was ready to finish the rest of his meal until a hazel eyes suddenly popped into his field of vision.

The scream Plagg released was never to leave this room, the shrill pitch embarrassing to his own red ears, he was glad Adrien wasn’t here today.

“What?! Don’t get so close to the camera!” he spat, trying to calm his racing heart down.

The woman backed away, quickly retrieving something from her purse and holding it up near the camera, “Sorry! Just, write this down so you know how to contact me, since I can’t contact you.”

Plagg squinted, eyeing the details on the white business card.

La presse de la societe

Alya Cesaire

Journaliste d’investigation

Tel. XXX-XXX-XXX

Quickly scribbling down the information, Plagg spoke into the speaker and Miss Cesaire left with the promise to return and the threat to contact her.

Plagg stared down at the information he wrote, quickly folding the piece of paper and shoving it in his pocket.

Just when he reached for his bowl of now cold cheese, the lock on the backdoor sounded.

“Hey Plagg! Sorry for being so late, I still had to ask my professor something.” Adrien greeted him with a wave and a tired smile, hanging his jacket on the coat rack and placing his bag on the empty chair before walking towards him. “So, anything interesting happen?”

There was this hopeful shimmer in his eyes, the one that told Plagg he was still waiting for Marinette to show up.

He almost felt guilty for lying. “Nope, nothing, just some cranky old lady eating her breakfast. Her teeth fell out so she had to leave, good thing you didn’t see that. Gonna give me nightmares for weeks, ugh.”

Plagg stuck his tongue out, rolling his chair out of the way so Adrien could take a seat at his desk, chuckling. “Don’t be like that Plagg, I can’t wait to see the day you grow all old and bald with your dentures in a glass.”

“Ha, ha, very funny kid.” Plagg playfully kicked Adrien’s chair, causing him to rotate in circles. The model only laughed and Plagg discreetly shoved the slip of paper that peeked out back in his pocket.

Thank you for reading everyone! And thank you again for your eternal patience, hopefully the next update is quicker :3

#miraculous ladybug #ml #adrien agreste #chat noir #marinette dupaincheng #marichat #miraculous #ml fic #ml fanfic #my fic #my fics #marinette x chat noir #dinner for two fic #will try to update on a monthly basis from now!#long post

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my-arlington-academia · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! Could I get headcanons for the main 10 with a Scholar who likes to leave love letters around for them to find?

Yes! 💗 and thank you for the request ✊ I'm not sure if they're already dating or not? I'm gonna assume they are. (This turned out to be so long! I'm gonna flood the tags again...)

Alistair

- first time you gave him one, it was on his desk

- he tried to read as swiftly as he could, but as he was reading through it, he started getting weird looks from the other students

- not surprising, he was grinning the whole time

- Raquel tried to look over his shoulder

- "Oooohhh~ what's that? A love letter? You're so popular with the ladies haha."

- he immediately hides it and stuffs it in his bag

- "Psh. N-no? It was just uhhh... homework!"

- poor boy sucks at lying

- "Of course, I'm sure everyone smiles like that at homework."

- Alistair keeps on giving you glances during class

- he didn't have the time to read all of it but he did see that you signed it and your handwriting is really recognizable

- afterwards, he quietly reads it in his room

- his heart races at each word

- comes to your room as soon as he finishes reading it

- "Y/N I came here to th- than- uhhh? Yeah! To thank you! Haha..."

- for a hot second he forgot how words work

- is laughing out of nervousness

- after that, you keep giving him more and more letters

- he starts consciously expecting to find one on his desk when he walks in

- is really sad when there's nothing on the desk...

Axel

- he already receives a lot of love letters ("fanmail") so how can you give it to him while making sure that he knows it's yours right away?

- you thought of a silly trick to throw him off guard

- When he's walking through the hallways you call out his name and give him the letter, you tell him that "he dropped this"

- he's surprised so he automatically grabs the letter

- "Oh! Thank you for picking it up for- Wait. I don't think this is mine. Uh...?"

- too late! You ran away immediately

- it takes him a few seconds to understand what you just did

- he's excited! But of course he's not going to read it in the middle of the hallway

- skips the beginning of next class to read it carefully in the cafeteria

- he blushes furiously at how passionate the letter is

- he's persuaded that you could write a beautiful love song

- comes in class 20 minutes late and gets detention from Tadashi but to be honest, he doesn't even care anymore

- When he walks in, he gives you a subtle look but you know what that look means

- you're so embarrassed that you try to ignore him the whole period... until he stealthly throws a paperball on your desk

- you open it, it says "look my way"

- even though you're mortified, you do so anyway

- he waves at you and smirks all knowingly

- ohhhh boy, you look away again

- you hear a stifled laugh, he probably thinks your reaction was really cute

Claire

- she often lends you pretty little boxes with cookies in them

- but when you have to give the box back to her, you get an idea

- you put a love letter in the empty box and give it back to Claire

- she discovers it in the evening when she opens the box, expecting to only find crumbs you left behind

- blinks a few times and closes the box

- opens it again and the letter is still inside

- she thinks "it wasn't a hallucination!"

- reads it really slowly because she has to stop at each sentence to calm herself down

- the next day she gives you the box again with the new cookies she baked yesterday

- runs away as soon as you take the box

- you open it and there's a letter on top of the cookies, it's a response to your letter!

- seems like she was too shy to tell you in person

- to fit the theme of the letter: the cookies are heart-shaped

- you guys keep on exchanging letters through the box and it becomes a habit between the two of you

Ellie

- since she doesn't have a roommate, you slide the letter through the small space under her door

- finds it on the floor when she gets back to her room

- OwO whats dis?

- opens it and reads it super quickly

- she's so giddy that she reads over it multiple times

- sends you text messages with lots of emojis in them

- "Thank youuu 💖💕💗 you sweetheart!!! 💘💝😍😊��"

- builds a robot to deliver letters between the two of you

- it knocks on the door and if you don't open it to take the letter, it goes back to Ellie

- she teaches you how to use the robot!

- "Don't worry! If someone else snatches the letter away from the robot it'll activate an alarm on my phone! And it's not like we need to sign the letters, we can use codenames!"

- You remind her that she's the only one in the pure and applied sciences department to create cute robots like those

- "Ah whoops... well uh, to be fair everyone already knows that we're dating so... no need to hide it!"

Karolina

- she probably doesn't care much about love letters

- she always thought that it's childish and extremely ridiculous

- that is until you gave her one

- the really first time you gave the letter to her directly or else she wouldn't read it, not knowing that it was from you

- she's all proud of herself while reading it

- she agrees with each statement but still blushes

- "Of course I'm gorgeous! You didn't have to write that part..."

- she's actually a sucker for books, especially from the romance genre

- you make her feel like a heroine from one of those books and she's secretly really happy about it

- but she'll never admit that of course

- after a while she gets inspired and tries to write one herself

- she thinks "I'll show you how it's done!"

- ends up getting really embarrassed at the thought of you reading the letter and doesn't give it to you until the end of the year

Neha

- after multiple attempts you somehow managed to sneak the letter in one of her sketchbooks

- too bad you couldn't see the surprise on her face when she found your letter

- she wanted to work for a few hours and brainstorm ideas for some new outfits

- but her plans went out of the window

- she read it. Put it on the side and started thinking about you during a solid 20 minutes

- wants to thank you but doesn't know how to do it without sounding like a little kid

- decides to send you a text for now, but she'll also write you a letter later

- "Thank you a lot for the letter. I really appreciate it."

- thinks that maybe it's a little bit too cold so she adds a heart emoji at the end

- cringes to herself while sending it

- gets back to work but sometimes she draws your face on the side

- scribbles all over it when she realizes what she's doing

- "This is not professional! If I have to show my sketchbook to someone and they see this, they won't take me seriously..."

- decides to write you a letter first or else she won't be able to focus

Raquel

- This is a hard one

- Raquel always moves from place to place without stop so it's hard to be sneaky with her

- eventually you slip the letter in her bag but you don't know how much time it'll take for her to find it

- like you thought it took her a few days

- when she did, she was very vocal about it

- she ran to you and almost jumped on you

- hugs you and thanks you hundreds of times

- "I love you too!!! You're so sweet Y/N..."

- becomes much more flirty, she was already confident but now it's even worse (or better? 😌)

- puts the letter on the wall of her room and shows it off to Claire

- "Look at that Claire! It seems like my godly charm cannot be stopped."

- Raquel starts carefully checking her bag everyday in hopes of finding another letter from you

- and even when she doesn't find anything, it gets her into a working mood

- "Might as well do my homework I guess..."

- becomes much more responsible with homework now that she checks her bag everyday

- your love literally helped her to get better grades

Tadashi

- This was a risky mission

- you had to sneak into the student council room and leave it on his desk

- they had a meeting this afternoon and Tadashi has been in a bad mood lately

- Well, to be fair he's always done with everybody's BS but this time it was worse than usual

- he finds the letter and gets confused right away

- wants to read it but he's having a meeting

- he's really fidgety the whole time, for some reason he has a feeling that it's from you though he can't explain why

- once everyone leaves the room he opens the letter

- all of his stress dies down, he falls back on his chair and sighs

- goes to find you and brings you to the council room, he makes you sit on his chair

- you tell him that you can't be here but he smiles and answers "Oh? You say that now even though you snuck in earlier to give me a secret love letter of all things?"

- he teases you with endearment and massages your back to thank you

- asks you if you'll write more (because he loved it) and you promise to do so if he promises to take more breaks

Tegan

- Tegan often invites you to play videos games with him (or to marathon some shows/anime/movies/whatever)

- you left the letter behind for him but he didn't catch the drift

- goes to your room to give it back

- "Um... you forgot this, I think..."

- you tell him that it's for him

- "Wait, really? You can just text me, you know? It's quicker and way easier than writing letters."

- oooohhhh boy. He really doesn't get it, you have to spell it out

- "A l-love letter? For me!?"

- "Tegan. We're dating."

- "Oh right! Sorry... I always forget that, it seems like I'm in a dream..."

- reads it in front of you while you're paying close attention to his reactions

- and to no surprise: he's a blushing mess

- you're fully satisfied, all that time was worth it

- he says that he'll repay you with a "love text message" which sounds like he's being lazy, but really knowing how... "unique" his handwriting is, you're glad...

- but it was not just a text message.

- "Sorry, I went a bit overboard 🙏🙏"

- his text has a 23 pages long file attached to it

- he wrote a really really long essay explaining in details why you're "so awesome" and "the best person in the world"

Tyler

- after classes are over, when he's working on a new painting he spends almost all of his time in the art room

- that's when you strike!

- you know he has a habit of sitting in the corner of the room so that's where you leave the letter

- honestly, he was in a slump lately because he felt like he was doing a really half-assed job with his new art piece

- but your letter gave him so much motivation that he finished the painting in a day

- "This is crazy Y/N! Reading your letter gave me the same rush as drinking 5 monster drinks in the span of 2 hours!"

- "Uhhh... Please don't do that?"

- laughs at how worried you look and asks you to write more to give him strength

- you say no at first but he pulls out your letter out of his pocket and starts reading it out loud in the middle of the hallway

- "Ssshhh! People might hear!"

- "Yeah, so? That's kinda the point but if you promise to write me more I'll stop~"

- you know he's just teasing you but it's still so embarrassing...

- in the end you give in out of shame however you have no idea just how much this letter helped him

- whenever he feels down or like he's not good enough he pulls out one of your letters and reads it

- he keeps all of them safe in a box, they're his treasures

#sweet elite #se #main 10 #headcanons #requests #asks #hope you guys like it!

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m00nlitknight · 5 years ago

Text

librarian helper

fandom: IT (2017) pairing: henry bowers / goody-two-shoes reader word count: 1,635 warnings: none to really point out? henry being henry?? summary: Oh, how one tires of stagnant days. extra: my favorite part of this is when richie said 'mullet-boy bowers' im iconic. i also finished this at like 3am pls b gentle i hope i wrote henry ok! feedback is highly appreciated, thank you for reading!

archive of our own link.

Monday mornings in Derry weren’t ideal, regardless of the context. Teens awoken far too early for their own good, forced to come to grips with the reality that it was the first day back from the weekend. Trudging through the crowded student body and longing for the day to be over just as soon as it was to begin. A variety of feelings made the air heavy and thick with a concoction so truthful to the high school experience; frustration, exhaustion, and the underlying scent of yearning.

Few an individual found themselves bragging of the weekend’s extracurricular activities, cackling with an unusual vigor and energy unlike the rest of their near-ghoulish peers. Others were sitting on the ground, rushing through their assignments with adrenaline only just granted to them; oh yes, the heart-stopping experience of forgetting that there was homework.

Fortunately, you’d hadn’t found yourself in that predicament this morning, having thoroughly done your homework on Friday night. Best to do it then push it off and forget it; your own philosophy. Not to say you hadn’t found yourself in the same situation in times past, nor were you above those whose memory’s had failed them.

Quietly you step up to your locker, opening it and glancing down to your left, where Richie Tozier was currently scribbling nonsense down on what you assumed to be Government. You hummed, putting your things away quickly and retrieving what looked to be the same assignment - some stupid worksheet the teacher assigned, no doubt some kind of busywork. Your class truly had no grasp on the concept of being ‘quiet,’ which annoyed you to no end.

You squatted down to his level, with his pencil not even ceasing as you set the paper in his peripheral. No teachers were at their morning posts yet, either that or the ones who were supposed to be there simply didn’t care to be there.

“Oh - uh, shit, how much?” His eyes shifted from you to the paper quickly as he fumbled to reach for something - likely his wallet.

“Nothing,” Your voice leaves you laced with amusement as you push the paper into his grasp. “Just don’t get caught with it, please.”

“Aw, c’mon! You can’t just hand it the fuck over for free, man, that’ll mean I owe you a solid.”

“Just consider it on the house, Tozier. It’ll be fine, you don’t owe me.”

“Okay, okay, but don’t come hollerin’ when you suddenly need a favor from ol’ Richie, alright?”

You hum in affirmation, turning back to your locker and beginning to sort through the things that would be needed for the day to come. Around you, energy began to rise, individuals of the student body reanimating through social interaction. The morning sun may not have been enough to revitalize them, but it appeared that the promise of teenage-to-teenage interaction was.

Richie finished his work with your worksheet quickly, shoving it back in your direction with a toothy grin. “Thanks, dude, you’re a fuckin’ lifesaver, I swear.”

“Like I said, it’s nothing! Do you need help with anything else? You know I have a basically free second period in the library.”

“Nah, thanks for the offer,” He seemed to finalize, standing up to go through his own locker. “I’ll make sure to send my dumbfuck friends your way if they happen to need any tutoring, though.”

You release a laugh through your nose, head shaking as you did so. Richie looked to you with a momentary smile, only to have it fall when he looked passed to the people around you.

“Alright, don’t panic,” naturally, you felt a little alarmed as a grimace crept onto his features. “ but I think you have a momentary peepin’ Tom right now.”

“Uh ... what ... do you mean?” You couldn’t help the faint caution and apprehension crawling into your voice.

“Mullet-boy Bowers is staring at you like ... really intensely,” he turned to you once again, putting an not-so-reassuring hand on your shoulder. “If I were you, I’d get the fuck outta dodge right now.”

With that, he stepped around you, maneuvering through the hallway - likely to class - and leaving you by your lonesome and, unfortunately, vulnerable. Quickly after his departure, the bell rang shrill overhead, signaling the beginning of class as students begrudgingly made their way to their first hour classes. You made yourself among their ranks, gathering your things to hopefully outrun ( or walk in this case ) any physical advancements the fellow student could’ve had on you.

The classroom’s door frame never felt more welcoming as you stepped foot into it, releasing a breath of comfort. Most of the class had yet to filter in, meaning there was more reign to choosing whatever seat you wanted. With a hum of appreciation, you step further in, choosing a seat not-too-close and not-too-far back for your liking, sitting down and preparing for class.

You keep your attention focused on your notebook for the beginning as classmates make their way in, sitting in various spots around the room and leaving you by yourself. Booted footfalls make their dreaded way over to you, finding themselves seated to your right. Sudden fear prickles your skin, suddenly making the room too warm and too cold at once while your shoulders tense. For the love of god, be anyone, anyone other than who you thought it was.

The seat creaks, likely with the weight of its occupant leaning into your vicinity. “Did’ja get the homework done, girlie?” You can almost hear the smirk in his whisper, as though he’s a wolf bearing his maw to a sheep. You tense further, shaking your head as you unconsciously lean further into the empty space you have right.

“S’funny...swear I saw you givin’ it to Trashmouth ‘fore class started,” The seats to your front and back were occupied by others, quite possibly remaining individuals who found an alliance with Henry. “Always thought’ch’re a good girl...be a shame if someone fucked that up for y’huh?”

Blackmail? That didn’t really seem like his style, then again it didn’t quite seem like you were being offered a choice of any kind - especially if he had the man power of his goons with him.

“So what’s it gonna be, huh? We ain’t got much time,” his voice transcribed his annoyance as your mulling was cut short, sliding the paper into his vision as he diligently scribbled the answers down. Across the room you caught the eye of Richie, quickly looking away in shame. You nearly miss the amused “s’what I thought,” murmured from Henry as he finishes the work quickly, shoving your desk with a bark of laughter.

The class continues on with its usually snail-like pace, much to your dismay as you keep your eyes locked on either the clock or your notebook. In front of you sat Belch Huggins, likely to his own humor since you were no longer able to see the board, and to your back sat Victor Criss who was able to sneak in an early nap. Through the paperballs being spat at or thrown at you from your right, you couldn’t help but feel that this was in some way better than having Patrick sit nearest to you - even if he was still creepily staring into your shoulder from behind Henry with what you could only guess was that irking grin. God forbid it was his expressionless face, that churned nervousness in your gut.

The bell rang once again overhead, signaling your freedom to the library as you scrambled to gather your things and rush passed before you had the chance to get cornered. Dumping what you had in your hands in your locker - you figured it would be for later you to organize - you did your best to scamper to the library unseen.

It seemed to have worked for the most part, aside from the bemused glances you garnered from teachers. Only momentary, they shrugged it off as you being a good kid in a hurry. As you entered the vicinity, you released another sigh of relief. If there was one thing you knew, it was that Henry Bowers wouldn’t be caught dead in a library. You didn’t really worry about his friends either, they were probably busy giving some unfortunate soul a swirlie, or whatever.

“Always on time, aren’t you?” The librarian, Ms. Andrews, rhetorical question was met with a beaming smile from you. “I’ve written things down for you to do, I’ll be in and out today helping the bookkeeper in the office.”

With a timid nod, you walked over to what she’d assigned you to do, looking through the short list with a thought of reaffirmation. Checking books back in, sorting back through them, and putting labels on new ones. You didn’t think you’d get through it all in the allotted time, though you were sure she’d been aware. Despite the world’s slow pace of going digital, Derry managed to lag behind - leaving you and your school with the unfortunate continuation of the paper system instead of being able to have the use of a computer.

“I’ll be back soon, dear, you know where where everything is,” she rounded the counter top before stepping out of the room, heels clicking loudly on the linoleum outside the carpeted room. A few moments later, the sound of boots made themselves apparent on the floor outside, going unnoticed by you as you began working on what had been assigned to you.

Looking up, your eyes met the smug gaze of Bowers himself - to which you tensed up once again. It stayed like what for an uncomfortable amount of time, the stuffy silence broken by the likes of you.

“Didn’t think you’d be a fan of the library,” you murmured, closing the book and setting it on the cart to be replaced.

“Wasn’t really, ‘till a lil’ birdy told me where my favorite bunny hangs out fer her second hour,” A sly smirk crawled onto his features as he watched you grimace over the use of the pet name.

He stepped forward, watching a physical flinch from you occur whilst he leaned his elbows onto the counter. It was stupid of him to get worked up over watching you squirm like that, but he had to admit there was definitely a feeling that came along with it. Leaning onto the counter, he gazed into your face. “What’ya say to us peelin’ outta here, goin’ and havin’ some actual fun?”

You fell silent at the question, blush darkening your features all the way to the ear. Unable to keep eye contact, you glanced to the pile of books that suddenly seemed way more interesting. “I’d say,” your voice came out so much more fragile then you’d meant it to as you looked back into his eyes. “Take me to dinner first.”

At your rebuttal, he found himself at a momentary loss for words, his own cheeks dusting with a faint pink. His smirk faltered, before returning at full force. “Can’t a man get a taste first, then?”

“ Uh, ” your mouth went dry, eyes suddenly widening. How could he be so forward?

“What’ll it be, doe-eyes?”

With a glance around the vacant library, you looked to him again. “Follow me.”

His smirk turned wolfish as you led him to the vague-privacy of the bookshelves. Once the doorway was out of sight, and the two of you were tucked away into a corner, you looked to him. “We’ll have to be quick...and quiet.”

He stepped to you, only partially caging you in with one hand. “I can do quick, but I can’t promise quiet, bunny.”

“W-we can’t do much,” you stammer, face flushing as he lowered himself to your neck. “I’m n-not that easy!” You squeak when you feel his lips press against your jugular, putting an embarrassed hand to your mouth.

“Thought we had to be quiet,” he chuckled.

You put your hands onto his face, dragging him backward to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Quickly, he swatted your hands away, coming to rest his own on your waist as you replaced your hands onto his shoulders. The kiss escalated to eyes being closed, lip nipping, and heads turning for a better angle.

You gently pulled away, in turn his hands beginning to roam your mid-section with curiosity as you caught your breath. When he brushed a certain spot, you couldn’t suppress a giggle, much to his amusement as he began to brush it intentionally.

“Henry!” You giggle, putting your hands on his chest to push him away.

“Y’know, I like the sound of my name on your lips, doe-eyes,” He pressed a kiss to your lips once again before pulling away completely. “Maybe you’ll be sayin’ it with more gusto tonight, huh?”

Your face flushes, eyes widening again. “Oh - oh! Uh, maybe..?”

“Meet me durin’ lunch, we’ll talk then,” and with a wink, he set out of the library.

#henry bowers x reader #henry bowers imagine #henry bowers #it 2017 fanfiction #it 2017 #anyway #reader insert

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blackaquokat · 6 years ago

Text

May You Always Be Satisfied (Part 4)

( Part 1 ) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Oo00oO

As the weeks pass, Mark can feel his life returning to a sense of normalcy. For the most part.

Damien now visits Mark and Celine on a regular basis, and invites the newlyweds to outings as well, thus officially allowing their friendship to return to as it was before.

It took some quick thinking to explain the giant bruise on Mark’s face at the beginning of this reconciliation, but Damien accepted the blame for it. Mark doesn’t think Celine fully believes the story, knowing her gentle twin all too well, but she doesn’t press. It would be a little difficult to explain Mark’s rather complicated status with his other friend, so Mark is grateful for Damien’s help.

Mark’s other friend,meanwhile, he hasn’t seen since the day they bruised his cheek in the first place.

Sure, part of that is his fault. Mark has been afraid to contact them until he has a plan in place to earn their trust back. Thus far, he hasn’t had much luck.

Damien hasn’t exactly been much help either.

They are currently at Freddy’s Pub, Damien on one side of the booth while Mark sits on the other, pen scratching outlines of ideas onto paper.

“I still think you should just give them space to cool off,” Damien reiterates for about the fiftieth time as he watches Mark crumble up this one and toss it aside. “Otherwise you’ll only drive them further away.”

“And I told you, waiting around has never been my way,” Mark retorts. He shifts an empty sheet of paper in front of him and taps his pen against it, waiting for a new idea to strike.

Damien rolls his eyes, lingering on the growing pile of rejected paper balls next to their booth before returning to the newspaper in his hands. “If you keep this mess up, we may get kicked out.”

“The last time someone got kicked out of here, it was for trying to fornicate with the bear puppet in the corner. I think they can handle a pile of paper.”

“On that note, you know you’re wasting a lot of paper, right?”

“I can afford more.”

A sigh. Not Damien’s first of the evening, and certainly not his last. “Mark, believe it or not, your money can’t solve everything.”

Mark lets out a light chuckle. Then his pen freezes mid-tap when he catches sight of a blurb on the back of Damien’s folded newspaper. A blurb about the upcoming episode for Inner Sanctum Mystery.

A new thought dawns on him.

“What?”

“You’re right,” Mark says in a reverent whisper, a smile growing across his face, “my money can solve this!”

“What?!” Damien shakes his head frantically. “No, no, that is the exact opposite of what I said, do not come up with a wrong idea when I am trying to push you towards the right one—MARK, COME BACK HERE!”

But Mark is already out the door in a flash.

Damien stares at the spot where Mark was only five seconds ago, the pile of rejection paperballs now scattered across the floor of the pub in the wake of his friend’s departure.

The bartender approaches the table with crossed arms. “So who’s paying the bill?”

Damien rubs his forehead with his fingers. “Put it on Mark’s tab.”

Oo00oO

One week later, Mark knocks, rather obnoxiously, on the door of his favorite law student.

They open the door to his bright grin. They’re wearing a rather plain purple sweater and dark pants.

“I hope you don’t have any plans today, my friend, because I—wait, please don’t shut the door. Just give me a moment, please?”

They stop closing the door in his face. Their mouth twists in contemplation. Then they lean against the door jam, brows lifting as if to say, “You have five minutes.”

“Thank you. Now, how would you like to go get coffee at Amy’s?”

“Why?”

Mark had prepared for their skepticism. “I have a surprise waiting there for you.”

Their eyes narrow, but no questions follow.

“You can leave whenever you want,” Mark continues. “But at least see what I’ve got planned?”

They regard him for another several seconds before shutting the door once again. Before he can despair (or start knocking again, begging like a fool), they open the door and join him on the stoop.

“Fine. You’ve got me curious.”

Mark doesn’t bother hiding his delight. He gestures to his limo. “Your chariot awaits.”

Oo00oO

The silence on the way to Amy’s Planet shouldn’t bother Mark, but it still does.

They’ve always been quiet, his friend, but in the past, the quiet moments between the two of them have been companionable. They have always been oddly soothing for someone as energetic as he, softening the sharp urges of immaturity as they arrived.

Of course, his immaturity is what got him into this spot of trouble in the first place. Now it seems his friend is content to turn companionable silences into bitter ones. Which shouldn’t surprise him, considering how their last encounter went, but it hurts nonetheless.

Mark takes in a deep breath. This plan will work. It has to.

“Ah, here we are!” he announces as the driver pulls into the parking lot at Amy’s. As he and his friend exit the vehicle, a distant rumble echoes through. Mark looks up to a blue sky turned gray.

“I guess there’s a storm coming.”

This is oddly perfect for what he has waiting for them.

The closer they get to Amy’s, the more suspicious his friend appears.

“Why does it look so dark in there?” they inquire, speaking for the first time since they left the house.

“Oh, I bought it out for the afternoon.”

They stop in their tracks. “You what?”

“I’m fully aware of your hatred for crowds, so I decided to avoid it entirely.” He pulls out the key Amy gave to him and unlocks the front door, opening it for his friend. “I also sent the employees home. Don’t worry, they’re getting paid for the time they would have been working.”

They’re still staring at him, like he isn’t waiting for them to go into the café. “What is it?”

“You…you really…are you kidding me?” they splutter.

The reaction confuses him, and primarily because it wasn’t said with awe-inspired gratitude. More like a “questioning his sanity” kind of exclamation.

“I don’t understand.”

They groan and shake their head. “Of course you don’t…” With that rather passive-aggressive comment, they finally go inside.

So far, not so good, he thinks as he crosses the clean floor to where his friend is sitting, at their usual table. Their arms are folded on the table, gaze fixed on the top. They’re so visibly uncomfortable, it physically hurts to see.

Mark straightens, clasping his hands behind his back. Time to turn up the charm.

“Shall I get your usual order?” Mark inquires in a mock-proper tone (one he picked up from his favorite butler-in-training, Benjamin).

The only response is a shrug.

Mark moves behind the counter, undeterred, only to stare at all of the contraptions and labels in trepidation. “…perhaps I should have at least kept one employee. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing,” he confesses.

Mark sees their shoulders shake with gentle laughter and he takes it as a win even as they quash it almost immediately. “Until I figure this out, allow me to prepare the next part of your surprise.”

He goes to the back room and rolls a stand to their table. A cassette player and tape rests atop it. Mark feels their eyes on him as he places the tape inside the player.

“Wait for it…”

The sound of an eerie, creaking door suddenly emanates from the speaker. “Good evening, Friends. This is your host of the Inner Sanctum, inviting you in through the creaking door—“

Their eyes widen. “Inner Sanctum Mystery? On tape?”

“I asked the radio cast and crew to record their newest episode before their next airing time. You and I will be the first to witness their most recent macabre creation.”

Their gaze flips from him to the tape player before focusing on the latter with rapt attention, hands folding into their sweater sleeves.

Mark smiles at how enraptured they look.

“—don’t pay any attention to those gurgling sounds you hear. They are the unfortunate ones. The midnight spirits who are caught haunting before midnight. Poor things. All they can do now is gurgle—”

The gleeful horror of the narrative is briefly interrupted by a lady pushing Lipton Tea to be bought (which gives Mark time to struggle further with the contraptions behind the counter). “I may actually buy a truck of Lipton Tea if I can’t figure this out…” he mutters to himself.

It takes longer for him to manage than he would like to admit, but eventually he does get two drinks resembling coffee stirred and served for the two of them. He settles at the table across from them. They take the mug without a word.

“—I got out an old Latin dictionary. I looked up the word, perpetuus. And then, I got a strange, cold feeling down my spine. For the word perpetuus means ‘perpetual.’ The latin sentence which the professor had written in his diary meant: ‘In Elixir #4, I have the secret of perpetual life. Professor Jarman had discovered the secret of immortality!”

“How much you wanna bet this guy is about to regret finding that Elixir?” Mark jests.

They snort, an amused, but almost-empty sound. They’ve relaxed into their chair further since the program started.

Outside, the rumble of thunder rolls closer and closer, rain drumming in a gentle rhythm against the glass windows.

As the radio drama progresses, as a student plots to murder his professor for the sake of immortality, Mark sips his drink, enjoying the heat and the company with his friend. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed them until now, didn’t notice the gaping hole in his life.

The two of them should do this more often. Maybe even Celine could join them. She and his friend share a similar enjoyment of darker mysteries.

By the time he tunes back in, the student has picked up a mallet while the professor begs for his life. The rain chooses that moment to drop the ocean on the café, so loud Mark can feel the pelting in his ears.

“‘You fool! You’ll never enjoy your immortality! You’ll wish you were dead a thousand times!”

The professor wound up not dying of the mallet, but by chemical fumes created by his twisted chemistry student. The student then, rather melodramatically, ingests the elixir and declares his morbid delight over his new mortality.

Honestly, Mark thinks. He sounds so forced. I could play the role of a sociopath far better.

As if on cue, a flash of lightning strikes outside, followed by a crack of deep thunder.

The host takes that time to jump in with his two cents.

“Hey, what’s going on here? What’s all this about living forever? If you ask me, it would be more of a curse than a blessing.”

“I can’t disagree,” Mark chimes in. “What do you say, my friend? Do you fancy living forever?”

His amusement dies immediately when he catches sight of the tears rolling down their cheeks, their coffee untouched before them.

“My friend, are you—”

They swear quietly and tear out of the café. Into the thunderstorm outside.

“Goddamn it!” he hisses as he hurries to follow them. By the time he’s outside, the rain pelting him like tiny stones, they’re too far down the sidewalk for him to catch up. Mark hurries to his limo and orders the driver to follow them.

Once the car is beside them, he lowers the window. “My friend, please get in the car.”

“Go away, Mark!” they shout over the downpour.

“You’ll get sick!”

They pay him no heed, arms crossed tight over their soaked body.

Mark tries one last tactic. “I’ll take you home, okay? We don’t have to go back to the café.”

They finally stop walking, and his driver stops the car as well (Mark needs to give the man a raise). He waits as they blink the rain from their eyes, still resolutely staring at the sidewalk, away from him.

Finally, they climb into his limo.

Mark calls out the address to his driver and then the car is off.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees them shivering sporadically, as though they are trying to quell the urge only for it to break through their composure. Their wet hair is stuck to their forehead.

Would they really suffer pneumonia just to avoid asking for his help?

Without a word, Mark takes off his coat and puts it over their body. They stiffen at the gesture, mouth set into something pale and angry.

“I’d like that back, at some point,” he orders, to soften the blow for them. Make it less like a kindhearted favor they think they’ll owe and more like an inconvenience for him which will make them hold onto the jacket out of spite.

The fact that Mark knows them well enough to realize that should frighten him, but it doesn’t.

Sure enough, he sees their fists bunch up the cloth from underneath and they pull it closer to them. Their eyes dart out the window, watching as the droplets trace pathways down the glass.

“Why did you do this, Mark?” they ask quietly.

“Because you’re cold, obviously—”

“No, I meant this.” They lift their coat-fisted hands away from them and pull them right back. “Why the café, the radio drama, the coffee? What was the point of it?”

He doesn’t understand why they sound so hurt. It kills him to hear it.

“I just…I just wanted you to see that nothing has to change,” Mark explains. “You’re still important to me, we can still be friends, still spend time together like before, and nothing can change that.”

They scoff. “Mark, we talked about this—”

“No, you talked. I didn’t get to say anything.”

“What could you possibly have said that would have made a difference?” they challenge. “You eloped with Damien’s sister and didn’t invite us—”

“I know what I did!” Mark snaps. “And I didn’t invite you because, damn it, I knew you guys would have tried to talk me out of it—”

“Of course we would have! You don’t get married to your best friend’s sister two weeks after your parents die—“

“That’s exactly why—”

“I would have told you to at least wait longer, damn it!”

Mark chokes on his last sentence. “You—what?”

Their expression is not dissimilar to someone staring down the barrel of a gun. They swallow and look down. “I wouldn’t have stopped you from marrying her. Neither would Damien, especially if you…if you love her.” Their voice grows hoarse at the last part. “But couldn’t you have waited a little longer? I haven’t even met her…and sure, Damien may know you’ll be happy, but how am I supposed to be content with your choice if I don’t see…”

They trail off with a shake of their head, eyes pinched shut.

Mark suddenly thinks he understands a little better, why they took it so hard. “Look, you don’t have to forgive me. What I did was wrong, and I’m sorry I hurt you,” deep breath, let it out. This is the turning point. “But I thought you of all people would understand that I was terrified of being alone.”

They flinch, and he knows it’s cruel to phrase it like that. They know loss just as intimately as he now does, but it’s necessary.

“I felt so lost, and I…I know one day you and Damien will be off, in love, and where does that leave me? I know I married her for the wrong reasons at the time, but at least now I’m happy. Me and Celine, we are both happy. Can’t that be enough for you to be happy for me?”

They don’t look up, but Mark thinks he sees resignation in their eyes. Their head tilts up and down in the barest hint of a nod.

The knot in his heart loosens just a fraction.

The rest of the ride to their home is as soundless as it was when the two of them left, but at least now Mark is settled with the knowledge that there is still hope to return this friendship to its former glory.

When the limo stops in front of the house, they don’t get out immediately, like Mark would have expected.

They whisper something under their breath, too soft for him to catch.

“What was that?”

They sigh. “I just…I missed you. That’s all.”

The confession warms him better than the coffee did. He definitely needs to try something like this again. “I’ve missed you too, my friend. Perhaps in a few days, you can meet Celine. I think you two would get along well.”

“No,” they insist, rather forcefully.

Mark’s concern returns in full force. He thought... “Why not?”

They clear their throat. “Because Valentine’s Day is this week,” they say in a rush, “and I doubt Celine will want a complete stranger joining the first romantic holiday of your marriage.”

The blood drains from Mark’s face.

He completely forgot about Valentine’s Day in his rush to get this outing put together.

Mark is so caught up in his panic, he doesn’t notice his friend climb out of the limo with his jacket still wrapped around them.

He calls for the driver to hurry to the nearest flower shop and never sees his friend watch the car drive away.

Oo00oO

You stare down the street long after Mark’s limo disappears into the thick sheet of rain.

Of all the idiots you could have fallen for, it had to be the recently married one who makes a grand gesture to his “friend” mere days before Valentine’s.

It shouldn’t surprise you by now, not after all the thoughtless things he’s done, but it does anyway. It’s surprising, and it hurts like someone holding your head underwater, long after you’ve run out of air.

He’ll never understand what he does to you, the bastard.

And it’s for the best that he never does.

You’re willing to deal with the water drowning your lungs, so long as Mark still wants you as his friend.

(Maybe you’re the fool, for putting up with him.)

So you go inside your home, because nothing good comes out of standing in the rain, brooding like a fool. You light up the fireplace and hang up your wet clothes…

…and Mark’s jacket.

Your hands hold onto it longer than they should, thumbs stroking the wet, expensive fabric.

You’ll give it back to him another time, you decide. Some time when his wife isn’t around, and when you can pull air into your lungs again.

Oo00oO

A/N: If anyone is curious, Inner Sanctum Mystery was an actual radio drama in the 1940s, and the lines were taken from the episode “The Man Who Couldn’t Die.” I’m investing far more research into my WKM stuff than I probably should, considering I picked the wrong decade, but hey, go big or go home. Hope you enjoyed it! If you want to be tagged, please let me know!

@dontworryaboutanything , @cosmic--frappucino , @beereblogsstuff , @musical-jim , @silver-owl413 , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods , @falseroar , @intemperantiae , @im-also-dead-inside , @timelords13 , @determinedrevolutionary , @ur-fairy-god-dragon , @conceitedink

#wkm #actor!mark #acting attorney #y/n district attorney #kat writes #please reblog and comment!

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chibieoushelvetica · 7 years ago

Text

Study Buddies

Pairing: G-Dragon x You Theme: SMUT Word Count: 1853

A paperball hits you in the side of the cheek and you roll your eyes. Seriously? We are fucking college students for crying outloud. You pick it up off of the desk with a sigh. As your economics teacher drones on and on about monopolies and societal revenue, you quickly and stealthily open up the wadded piece of paper.

"Pssssst Y/N, I need your help studying! I know the test is tomorrow and I can't fail it! Pllleeeeaaasssseeeee noona?! -Call Me Mr. Fuckin' G.O.D."

You roll your eyes, not at the request, but at how he signed the letter. You smooth out the paper and grab your pencil.

"Ji-Yong Hyung, 1. I am not your noona... You are literally a whole year older than me. 2. Of course I'll help you study, but you'll owe me! ;P 3. If I call you anything it'll be dipshit... -You're Dongsaeng."

You gently fold up the paper into a neat little square and hand it to your neighbor.

"Pass it to Ji-Yong." You mouth at them. They nod and pass the message until Ji-Yong is holding the note in his hands.

He opens the letter with little to no discretion, causing you to fight the urge to face palm. He smiles happily to himself and rolls his eyes before grabbing his pencil to reply. A few minutes later the once again balled up piece of paper is laying on your desk again.

"Dongsaeng, is calling your Oppa a dipshit respectful... Maybe you'll tutor me in the ways of economics and I'll tutor you in the ways of mannerisms. I'll walk home with you mkay? xx- Oppa"

You bite back a light grin and when the teacher isn't looking, turn around and flip him off. He glares at you and you stifle a giggle.

Later that afternoon as the bell rings once more signalling the end of the day, You walk through the crowded halls quickly. You finally make it to your locker. you unlock it and shove the text books you don't need inside the small rectangular metal box. As you are shutting your locker you look to the right and then to left. This is when you see Ji-Yong leaning up against the locker beside yours.

"Hey there sweet cheeks." He says cheekily.

You roll your eyes and turn towards the exit. You begin walking, with your backpack over your shoulders and Ji-Yong beside you. Once outside of the large college he links his hand with yours.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You ask him incredulously, a dark blush flowing over your cheeks.

"Shut up dongsaeng. I'm only holding your hand. You wont die." he replies slightly annoyed.

"It's just weird! Since when do we hold hands?" You question.

"Hush, I just wanted to hold your hand, but if you're gonna whine about it then never mind." He says sounding more embarassed than annoyed now.

"N-no... It's fine. I was just surprised is all." Your blush grows darker.

By the time that the two of you reach your home he is swinging your hands back and forth cutely and your chattering is nonstop. Once inside you both kick off your shoes and drop your bags by the door.

"Snack first?" You ask, making your way towards the kitchen. You two had been friends since you could barely walk and so this obviously wasn't his first time in your home. Before you could make it more than a few steps away he grabs your wrist and pulls you back. You yelp as you stumble back towards him. He chuckles and pins you up against the door.

"Is everything okay down there Y/N?" A masculine voice calls out from upstairs. Both you and Ji-Yong freeze.

"Sorry Mr. Y/L/N! I accidentally bumped into her and scared her!" Ji-Yong calls out.

"Ji-Yong is that you? It's been a while!" The voice calls out again.

"Yes sir it has been a very long time," he begins shooting you a look that gave you chills, "Y/N invited me over to study for our big economics test tomorrow!"

"Oh that was a great idea on your part honey!" your father calls out to you this time.

"Yes sir, he is pretty good at the subject and I figured it would be v-very b-beneficial to m-me." You stutter out as Ji-Yong licks up the side of your neck before beginning to suck on it.

"Well I'll leave you two be! I have a big presentation tomorrow so I'll be up here in my office working on that! Knock if you need me!"

"Will do sir!." Ji-Yong responds all the while looking at you with a smirk. You both here the door to your father's office close and you look at GD incredulously.

"What are you doing?" You whisper harshly.

"You asked if I wanted a snack." He replies with a shrug looking you up and down hungrily, "I figured I'd help myself to what your parents made."

"Ji-Yong, n-no."

"When you tell me to stop I will, but for now..." He trails off as his mouth returns to your neck.

"Ji-Yong, s-seriously. My d-dad is l-literally right up the stairs." You say biting back moans.

"But your daddy is right here." he replies with a cocky smirk, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around him.

You protest in harsh whispers as he walks you to the kitchen and sits you down on the table.

"Oh hush Y/N." he says darkly, spreading your legs.

You push down the hem of your skirt to cover your crotch. He chuckles before grabbing a fist full of your hair and pulling it back. It hurts a little, but it turns you on more. His hot breath fans over your ear.

"Y/N I'm going to count to three. You better have your skirt lifted up and your hands above your head by the time I'm finished counting. If you don't this will be a lot harder for you."

He lets go of your hair and squats down until he is eye level with your crotch. All the while counting slowly to three. His voice has never seemed so sexy to you. You proceed to lift your skirt and raise your hands obediently. He smirks up at you as he hooks his fingers into either side of your panties and gently moves them down your thighs, then down your calves, and onto the floor. You are looking down at him nervously, as he pulls your hips to the edge of the table, his mouth centimeters from your heat. He gently kisses your clit and you shudder. He smiles and proceeds to lick it. You gasp loudly and he looks up at you.

"You're father is upstairs." he reminds you before licking your clit once more.

You bite your bottom lip and drop your hands to Ji-Yong's hair. After assaulting your clit numerous times he surprises you by dipping his tongue into your dripping hole. You open your mouth, but no sound comes out, just an face expressing extremely pleasure.

"You're so tight Y/N and this is just my tongue. I can only imagine what you'd feel like around my fingers... Or better yet my cock."

"I-I wouldn't mind finding out Ji-Yong Oppa..."

He sticks his tongue back inside of you and hums lightly before pulling it out again to look up at you.

"You're still a virgin aren't you Y/N?"

You look away embarrassed by the obvious fact. He chuckles, "Let's change that."

You look at him wide eyed as he stands up and unzips his pants quickly. You try to look everywhere but at his obvious erection.

"You're so wet I should be able to just slide in. I'll be gentle with you Y/N, don't worry." He looks at you, but this time you see a lot of love in his dark eyes, not cockiness.

You nod lightly, a dark blush painting your cheeks. He pulls down his boxers and you finally give up on trying not to look at his erection.

"My eyes are up here ya know?" He questions jokingly, cupping your chin in his hand and lifting your head. He stares deep into your eyes before kissing you lightly. You are the one who deepens the kiss, with a cross between passion and aggression. He raises his eyebrow in a shocked way, but doesn't protest. As your kiss continues to heat up, you feel his tip brush against your core and you moan into his mouth. He slowly pushes his tip into, while lifting you lightly off the table. He slowly pushes his entire length into you and you tear up. You bite his lip harshly. He groans both at the bite and how tight you are around him.

"F-fuck Y/N." he groans out quietly.

"P-please move Ji-Yong Oppa." you mumble.

He nods, pulling out and pushing back in. With just the first thrust you are already weak. He is surprisingly vocal; whispering out profanity and a slur of compliments to you. Eventually, his thrusts get faster and his grip on your hips gets tighter. You begin to meet his upward thrusts with downward grinds and when he hits your spot you connect your lips with his harshly. This quieted your moans significantly.

"O-oppa, I th-think I'm g-gonna... Ahh." you moan out and he smirks thrusting harder and faster.

"Do it baby girl. Cum around my dick." he groans into your ear.

Right after he says these words you do and he groans. He tries to hold his orgasm in order to let you ride out your high, but he can't hold it for long and cums. Some inside of you and some on your stomach. You are both panting and sweating. He chuckles and so do you.

"I never thought you'd be my first." you say inbetween heavy breaths.

He smiles widely, "Can I be your last too? And every time in between?"

"Are you asking me out you asshole?"

"Is that a yes loser?"

"Well no shit!" you say as he sets you back down on the table.

As you try to stand up, you stumble forward and he catches you.

"So, what you're saying is I have to carry your fat ass?"

"Shut the fuck up! You didn't have a problem holding me up just a few seconds ago!"

He laughs as he pulls his pants and underwear back up. He rolls his eyes and picks up your underwear from the floor and then you. He lugs you over his shoulder and you yelp.

"TO THE BATHROOM WE GO!" he calls out loudly.

"Did you kids say something?" Your father calls out from up the stairs.

You tense up and Ji-Yong answers, "Sorry I yelled in victory. I won our little economics game review!"

"Oh okay! Well, congratulations!" your father calls out once more and then the door is heard closing once more.

"Nice save douche-bag."

"Don't make me drop your ass." he replies.

You both laugh as he carries you to the bathroom and helps you clean up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From my Wattpad! COMING SOON: Requested jealous Taehyung SMUT Requested Jhope and fireworks SMUT -Daddy

#ji-yong #gdragon #big bang #smut #kpop smut #college au #kpop college au #big bang smut #best friends #ji-yong smut #gdragon smut

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