#sure he’s handsome or whatever but he doesn’t stir my insanity | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lowkeyorloki · 3 years ago

Text

Goldfish

Pairing: Loki x Mobius

Rating: Teen and up, but nothing more than a couple kisses

A/N: Hiiii sorry I’m never on here anymore I’m a bit busy and I don’t have time to post consistently on tumblr if I want to keep updating my multichapter! I know this isn’t my usual content but I’m posting it on my ao3 so I figured I’d drop it here as well ^.^ it’s funny, I don’t even ship lokius but I saw some fanart on twitter of them hugging and it just... inspired me. If this is your thing, I hope you enjoy <3

It’s just that… Loki knows it will have to be him.

He can’t read Mobius, not like he can every other human he comes across. Or being, even. Mobius has seen every moment of Loki’s life, some of which Loki himself will now never live out or understand. Mobius has watched Loki in his most private moments.

It makes the TVA agent inescapable. He knows Loki, truly knows him, whether Loki likes it or not.

And so Loki can’t tell with Mobius. The small exhaled laughs or the allowance of Loki to fix his tie. Loki doesn’t know if Mobius does these things because he wants to, or because Loki would like to think the other man wants him to.

And Mobius is loyal to the TVA, anyway. Even if he were to look past all of Loki’s faults, even if Mobius were to see Loki as anything more than a pain in the ass of a friend, he wouldn’t do anything. It was controversial enough to bring in Loki at all.

Loki should be thankful he has Mobius in any capacity at all.

And so Loki knows he would have to make the first move. And he can’t do that, because Mobius is possibly the only person who could destroy Loki with a simple rejection.

Loki keeps quiet, and lives for when his shoulder brushes Mobius’s in the elevator.

Trying to find the variant is exhausting. Mobius is on his seventh cup of coffee, and his head is starting to buzz. Not the good, productive type of buzz either. The type that makes someone need to lay down.

Apparently, Loki has already had that idea. Mobius glances at him, asleep across the table and surrounded by books and loose papers. As he drains the last of what’s in his cup, Mobius realizes he hasn’t seen Loki eat or drink a single thing since he got here. If he had to, Mobius would bet money the god hasn’t been sleeping either.

Mobius stands up, his back cracking when he does. He groans - Mobius is getting old, something he’s noticed more and more lately. He walks around the table until he’s right next to Loki, ready to wake him up. Loki’s breaths are even, hitting the ends of a few pieces of paper. Mobius has never really seen him like this - calm, subdued. He almost looks peaceful. Mobius leans over Loki, hands on his hips as he examines the other man.

Mobius would never tell Loki, but it is obvious that the dark-haired man is a god. There are just things about his looks that clue Mobius in.

Loki’s skin, even as it’s gotten dull with his time in the TVA, is technically flawless. He glows, even in his embarrassing or rude moments. His cheekbones are impossibly sharp, and his lips are the reddest Mobius has seen. He would guess they’re soft.

Loki’s hair was the most dead giveaway. It always looked perfect, loose curls that seemed to suck in any light. It was the opposite of Mobius’s graying blond hair. He’s shiny. Everything about Loki is shiny.

Loki stirs, and Mobius straightens up, not wanting Loki to see him watching. He was upset enough that Mobius has watched his entire life over.

Mobius ponders how to wake Loki up when a lock of his black hair falls into his face. Without thinking, Mobius reaches forward and tucks it behind the man’s ear.

Reckless. Loki really does start to wake up then, and Mobius swats him with the corner of the folders in his hand.

“Come on,” Mobius says. “We’re not even close to done.”

The two of them are so close to making strides. Loki is smart, just like Mobius knew - just like he keeps convincing Ravonna - but he’s being held back. It’s like a single wrong look could make Loki wither away, be absent for the rest of the day. Mobius has no clue how someone who thought so highly of himself could be so affected by the glare of a random agent. Maybe Mobius didn’t know Loki as well as he thought. Only in small ways, though.

And Mobius still hasn’t seen him eat or drink a damn thing.

He stands up abruptly, surprising Loki. His head shoots up, perfect curls becoming loose and falling in his face in the process. Mobius almost considers brushing them away.

“Come on,” he says, gesturing towards the exit. Loki narrows his eyes.

“We haven’t even been here four hours,” he says, which is generous, because they both know they’ve only been there for two. Mobius lets out a harsh sigh.

“Am I the supervisor or are you? Let’s go, Loki.” Loki seems to know Mobius is doing him a favor, and stands up as well. Loki follows him down a new set of hallways, stands next to him in an elevator he hasn’t been on yet.

“Am I to take it we’re breaking the rules, or…?” Loki trails off in a way that is anything but unsure.

“It’s for the sake of the cause,” Mobius says. “We don’t need to address it directly.”

Mobius does look over his shoulder when he gets to the door, and locks it as soon as they’re both inside. He flicks on the lights, and Loki looks bored. Mobius lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you. Sit down,” he gestures towards the couch.

“Agent Mobius, are you allowing me in your home?” Loki’s eyes glint. Despite himself, Mobius finds himself relieved to hear Loki making quips again. He already might have more energy.

“Hey, if we don’t talk about it, my job security looks a lot better,” Mobius sets a bowl down in front of Loki. “Will you please eat something? God or not, I don’t know how you’re still alive after a month.” Loki presses his lips into a thin line.

“Mobius, I appreciate the gesture, but you don’t need to -” Mobius is already prepared, and tosses a piece of food directly into Loki’s mouth as he speaks. He makes a gagging noise, and looks at Mobius furiously, but the other man is already laughing.

“What… what are these?” He asks after swallowing, seemingly admitting defeat. Mobius laughs again.

“Goldfish. They’re from Earth you know,” Mobius eats a few, and quietly celebrates when Loki does as well.

“Goldfish. I know of an employee you have that might benefit from these,” Loki tells him.

“I’m flattered you think I’m anyone’s, especially Casey’s, superior. But really, the only person I’m in charge of is you,” Mobius says. Loki glares.

“I’m always ten steps ahead of you all. Surely you know that,” he says, but it’s non-committal. Mobius can tell.

“Yep. You’ve said before, handsome. This is all part of your plan.” Mobius looks to Loki for his next retort, but Loki doesn’t say anything. He stares at Mobius with an unreadable look on his face, and Mobius realizes his slip up. Handsome.

“Hey, don’t let my crackers go to waste. They’re hard to get a hold of around here, you know,” Mobius says, and Loki seems to move.

They stay like that for awhile, Loki sitting as Mobius watches over him. Mobius is just getting comfortable again when Loki gets up.

“It’s been great, but we probably should be heading back now,” he says, walking towards the door. “Wouldn’t want the timekeepers finding out about this, would we?”

Mobius stops him, carefully telling him to wait. Loki does, back facing him.

“I can tell you’re tired, Loki. I get it. You got here just after a war,” Loki tenses, just barely, at the mention of New York. Mobius talks faster to smooth it over. “I think you can take a day off. Better for me anyway. I don’t want to be sticking my neck out for someone who isn’t even helping all that much.” Mobius puts his hand on Loki’s shoulder.

He’s always shocked by the amount of muscle he can feel through the material of Loki’s shirt. Loki seems so lean, but whenever Mobius touches him, he can feel how solid the other man is. He likes it. It’s soothing.

Loki turns around, looking suspicious. Mobius doesn’t blame Loki, but he does almost feel guilty.

Almost.

“You can sleep here. Not just today. I’m sure the cot they have you sleeping in hardly compares to whatever you had on Asgard,” Mobius steps away, letting Loki go and waving his hand. “My couch doesn’t either, but it’s an upgrade for sure. Living room is all yours, buddy.”

“Where are you going?” Loki asks. Mobius looks at him.

“To my room. I’m tired too,” he says. Loki blinks.

“Won’t someone notice I’m not where I’m supposed to be?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Mobius says dismissively, even though he has no idea how he’s going to pull this off.

He’s practically made Loki a promise at this point. He’ll figure out how to make it all okay somehow.

It’s driving Loki insane.

Before, he could keep it all in because he was scared that Mobius wouldn’t want it. Wouldn’t want him. But now, there are moments that Loki doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that Mobius might push him away, give him that disapproving look if it meant Loki could just…

Kiss him.

Loki scoffs at himself. He didn’t even get this caught up in the thought of a kiss as a boy. It was pathetic to feel like this in adulthood.

What’s even worse is the thought that maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. He can recall watching Thor on Earth as he followed around Jane Foster, losing every bit of charm that kept him so popular on Asgard. At the time, Loki didn’t understand it.

But now he does.

Everything is so high stakes for him - Loki is doomed if he doesn’t do as the TVA wants, and he would have been doomed had he just stayed on Earth like he was supposed to. But he barely even pays attention to those things.

Every waking moment is about Mobius. How he looks in the morning before he showers, hair tousled as he digs around in the fridge. The way his face lights up when he and Loki almost find the variant, and then the inevitable disappointment when they don’t. How every night, without fail, he tells Loki goodnight as the god falls asleep on his couch.

Loki is starting to think there is something here. Because he’s paranoid, but not stupid. Mobius wouldn’t be letting Loki get this close if he thought the same way as when they first met.

They enjoy each other. Mobius likes to lead, to rebel in the way he’s been given permission to. And Loki is realizing he doesn’t mind following a man like Mobius.

Of course, the TVA isn’t so bad either.

The organization itself, Loki hates. He’s never met the timekeepers, but they sound like kings. That was a group Loki never got along with.

But the buildings, the center, was growing on him. Even if he wasn’t allowed access to most of the materials, Loki likes the library. He enjoys staying deep in the bookshelves, and bringing a stack out to drop right on the book Mobius is reading. Loki likes the elevators, which seemed to be the few minutes he could simply stand in silence and rest. He likes Casey too, though he tends to leave the poor, sad man alone now.

Most of all, Loki likes the long hallways that rarely had anyone but him and Mobius. They feel private without being stifling. Sometimes, when the two go back to Mobius’s apartment too early, Loki feels sick. Like it physically hurts to be so close to having what he wants.

“That brown suit is hideous, you know.” Loki tells Mobius as they’re both getting ready. Mobius scowls at Loki.

“It’s uniform. You know, if everything works out, you might get one just like it,” Mobius retorts. Loki scoffs. “Alright then, mr. prince. What would you have me in?”

Loki stops, his eyes trailing over Mobius as he thinks about the question. Loki smirks, turning around as he grabs his belt.

“Anything else. You always look so uptight. No one here knows how to let loose a bit.”

“I’m uptight. That’s a good one,” Mobius says. He’s standing by the door, wanting to leave. “Could you hurry up and put your pants on? We’re late.”

All Loki is doing is tucking his shirt in, but he thinks he can feel Mobius looking. It’s in a way that doesn’t seem strictly observational.

The nightmares, of course, are an issue.

Loki hasn’t shared a room since he and Thor were children, so no one knows about the night terrors he gets. Maybe Mobius does, having had a glance at a few as he watched Loki’s life play out on the screen. But Loki doesn’t think so, because Mobius has never said anything.

But of course, Loki has to ruin that. He wakes up with a shout that echoes off the walls. He slaps a hand over his mouth, then pulls it away, sticky with sweat. He’s pinching the bridge of his nose when Mobius bursts into the living room, slamming his hand over the light switch to turn it on.

“I’m sorry,” Loki says immediately, squinting at the brightness. “I didn’t mean to be so loud. I know you would get in trouble if someone were to find me here.”

“You.. I’d…” Mobius blinks, still half asleep and trying to figure out what’s happening. “Loki, are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Go back to bed, Mobius.” Loki leans more into his palm, cursing himself for letting this happen. If Mobius knows Loki like he claims to, he should just go.

Mobius stays in the doorway, and Loki can practically hear the gears turning in his head. Mobius sighs.

“Look, I’m not gonna ask you what it was, but… why don’t you sleep in here for tonight?” He gestures behind him, presumably towards his bed. Loki raises his head, looking at the other man.

Mobius looks sincere - painfully so. It seems like he doesn’t know what’s going on or what he should do, but he also looks like he just wants Loki to listen.

Loki gets up, folding the blanket on the couch before he follows Mobius. Loki crawls into the bed after the other man, staying as far away as possible. He expects Mobius to say something else, but he doesn’t. Mobius just sighs and yanks the blanket towards him.

Loki wakes up feeling amazing.

He feels rested, warm and heavy as he stirs. The room smells like sleep, and Loki can’t help but raise his arms above his head and stretch. That’s when he feels something on his chest. Loki opens his eyes, peering down. Mobius’s arm is slung over him, the other man still asleep.

Loki doesn’t move, trying to figure out how asleep Mobius still is. He wonders if they can stay like this for a few more minutes.

He doesn’t take the chance. Loki gets up, quietly leaving so he can take a shower in the bathroom where his toothbrush sits next to Mobius’s.

Mobius doesn’t like this shift in his feelings.

He liked thinking Loki was all bravado with no depth. It was easy to separate everything that way. What was work, and what wasn’t. What mattered and didn’t.

What was ethical or not.

Being around Loki so much was making Mobius like him. Even worse, care. He started to dread rewatching certain scenes from his life to look for clues that might tell him where other Lokis are, because Mobius can see the effects of it all now. They’re playing out in front of him, sleeping on his living room couch.

When Loki wakes up from whatever he was dreaming about, Mobius feels sick. He doesn’t even think about the fact Loki’s cry is loud enough to get caught - literally does not even occur to him. His only thought is, what now? What could possibly catch up to you here?

After Loki lays down in his bed (which was easier to get him to do than Mobius thought), Mobius listens for his breathing to even out. Then he reaches over, resting his arm on Loki’s chest. Mobius falls asleep making sure Loki is still breathing.

Mobius notices the way Loki looks at him. The realization makes Mobius think about the two of them. What it would mean.

It hasn’t even occurred to him to look at Loki like that, not seriously. Loki is an asset, so Mobius built up a ton of walls for the sake of professionalism. You know, for his job. Mobius is aware of Loki’s attractiveness because he has to be. It’s part of the reason all these Lokis get away with so much.

But after that night Mobius begins to look at Loki because he can. And then he realizes he’s been doing that all along.

“You know,” Mobius tells Loki the next afternoon. They’re in the cafeteria, and Loki is eating everything in his salad but the cherry tomatoes. “It might be better if you stay with me again tonight. Like you said, we wouldn’t want any of my neighbors to pick up on anything.” Loki raises an eyebrow, carefully setting his fork down. Mobius clears his throat.

“No need to be embarrassed, partner. I’m told I have a soothing presence.”

“I absolutely would not say that,” Loki says. “But… if you insist. After all,” Loki’s eyes glint. “You’re in charge.”

Mobius doesn’t know what to say to that, and drinks a cup of water in just one gulp.

And they settle into it. Loki doesn’t sneak out of Mobius’s arms, in fact, he actively seeks them out. Only once everything is quiet and the lights are out, but still. Loki tucks his head under Mobius’s chin, Mobius wraps his arms around Loki’s torso, and they both like it. A lot.

They don’t mention it ever, but it doesn’t seem like something they aren’t allowed to talk about. It’s just part of the routine. Shower, study, search, eat, get in bed. It’s nice.

At some point, Loki realizes this is the longest he’s stayed in one place for a very long time.

Just like Loki thought, he’s the first to do it.

They’re in the elevator, and it’s taking a particularly long time, and Mobius decided to stand closer than he needed to and Loki just… kisses him.

The best part is, Mobius doesn’t even seem surprised. He opens his mouth when Loki bites down on his lip, and he holds on to the lapels of Loki’s jacket and Loki cradles his face. Everything is so familiar, so natural, and Loki can’t help but smile against Mobius’s stupid mustache.

And then Loki pulls away. Mobius doesn’t say anything, but he gives Loki a sad smile. Loki feels his blood run cold.

“What?” He asks, and suddenly, he feels like a child. Like Mobius knows something he doesn’t, and now Loki is going to be chastised.

“Nothing,” Mobius says, but that’s obviously not true. He sighs. “It’s just… that can't happen again.”

Loki stares at Mobius. “Why?” He demands. “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” Mobius says. His hands are resting on Loki’s waist, but he slides one over Loki's stomach. Mobius’s fingers find their way through the holes that the buttons of Loki’s shirt leave. The feeling of Mobius’s fingers on Loki’s bare skin make Loki dizzy, and confused.

“Then why can’t we do it again?” He asks, wanting to rip Mobius’s hand off of him, but unable to bring himself to. Mobius grimaces.

“Loki... Isn’t what we got goin’ enough?” Loki is cool under Mobius’s fingers. No more than anyone else though, even with his frost giant heritage. “C’mon, Loki,” when Mobius glances at Loki, then immediately looks away. The sight of Loki’s disorientated face, combined with his mouth slightly ajar… it’s too much. “You know if it goes any further one of us will screw up. I’ll even say it’ll be me. But someone would notice. It’d be impossible for them not to.”

“But… you’re the one who started this,” Loki protests, and he’s right, because Mobius is the one who brought him into this whole mess. The TVA, his apartment, his bedroom. It’s all been Mobius. Loki never asked for any of that.

“I know,” Mobius says, and he sounds like he’s sorry. “Listen, I know. I’m sorry. We can’t have it all, but if we keep going the way we have, we can still have some.”

Loki steps away, and Mobius’s face falls. He looks more angry than sad.

“I think I’d like to go back to my cell now.” Loki says.

Loki doesn’t actually go back to his cell. But he does sleep on the couch again, and refuses to touch the Goldfish Mobius leaves out.

Mobius feels like a dick, but he’s also sort of pissed. He’s not happy about this either, and if Loki wasn’t always so selfish, he would see that Mobius also isn’t prancing around in happiness.

“I’m not like you,�� Mobius tells Loki the next morning. “Look, I can’t just… rebel. It’s not a luxury I’ve been afforded.”

“I’m glad that after seeing my entire life and death, you’ve settled on the word ‘luxury’ to describe it,” Loki responds angrily, and Mobius just backs off. He knows he won’t get anywhere with Loki, not like this.

Watching Loki close himself off is… exactly what Mobius would have thought it would be.

It’s exactly the same as when Loki arrived at the TVA, he’s just less defensive. Loki is just as mad at everyone else, but with Mobius, Loki doesn’t even give him a reaction. He does exactly what’s asked of him, no more and no less.

Mobius misses him.

Loki is just across the table, but Mobius misses their rapport. He wants to tease the god again, hassle him as they make their way to the cafeteria. Mobius wants to listen to Loki talk about Asgard, tell him all the little details that can’t be picked up on a screen. He wants his friend back.

And now Mobius isn’t sleeping, either. He grew used to Loki’s head resting on his chest, the feeling of his hip in his hand. Mobius thinks about the skin of Loki’s stomach, how everything in the elevator felt.

It was like Mobius lit up. He felt alive again, with free will and all.

But of course, Mobius doesn’t have free will. If he did, he’d pull Loki into the elevator himself, and show Loki just how much wanted this too.

It hurts because Loki knows Mobius wants this.

It’s almost worse than if he didn’t - because Mobius liking, wanting, and maybe even needing Loki back, it makes him like everything else in Loki’s life. Loki is so close, he can reach it, even hold it in the palm of his hand. A life with Mobius, at least for the time being, would be exactly as it was before the argument, except more so. Just a bit more.

Loki can’t take it. He feels like he’s going to vomit every second of the day, because his life is a vicious cycle and coming so far just to be thrown away. He takes long showers now, the stream of water being the only thing that can drown out his thoughts. Loki almost doesn’t see Mobius as he steps out of the bathroom, drying his hair.

“Loki,” the other man says, and his tone is so grave that Loki stops.

“Mobius,” he responds. “Do you need something?”

“I… I wanted to apologize,” Mobius takes a step forward. “For what I said.”

Loki tilts his head. “For which part? I recall quite a few things.” A look of exasperation passes over Mobius’s face. Loki hates to admit it, but the look is relieving. It makes everything seem less serious than it is.

“What I said about not being like you,” Mobius explains. “Look, I know you’ve felt alone your whole life. And the way I said that, I don’t feel good about it. I’m sorry.”

Loki blinks, then throws his towel in the hamper.

“It’s fine,” he says. Mobius shakes his head, stepping even closer, and Loki raises his eyes.

“No, Loki, it’s not,” Mobius reaches up, running his fingers through Loki’s damp hair. “I lied,” he murmurs. “I lied to the God of Lies. I am like you, Loki. I’m your kind. I know Lokis, so I know who you would have been. But this you?” Mobius places his hands over Loki’s hips and pushes, pressing Loki’s back against the wall. “I’m still getting to know who you are now. And I like you, Loki. I really do.” Mobius stares at Loki expectantly. Loki swallows, resting his hands on Mobius’s shoulders. Mobius is softer than Loki is, and it makes Loki’s mouth water. From here, Loki can see every wrinkle and gray hair that Mobius has. He’s painfully human. Loki closes his eyes, leaning forward to press his lips against Mobius’s temple.

“Do you mean it?” He asks. “Will it stick? Are you going to call it all off?” At this angle, Mobius can reach Loki’s neck, and he begins to suck on the delicate skin there. Loki lets out a moan.

“I can’t promise we’re gonna get married and be together forever,” Mobius teases Loki lightly. He runs his tongue over Loki’s Adam’s Apple. “But I’m not gonna stop just because of the TVA. You.. you’re worth more than that.” Mobius slides his palms under Loki’s shirt and up his back, and Loki melts into him. “I promise.”

“Okay,” Loki says, because that’s all there is to say. He trusts Mobius, Loki realizes. He wholeheartedly does.

“Loki,” Mobius says, exhaling. “Can I touch you? Do you want me to touch you?”

Loki straightens, catching Mobius’s eye.

“Yes.”

#also as you all know i hated the show so if some details are off. good <3 #lmao i called casey randall bc i thought that was his name #anyway #loki #loki laufeyson #mobius #mobius m. mobius #mobius m mobius #lokius #loki x mobius #loki laufeyson x mobius #loki laufeyson x mobius m. mobius #owen wilson #tom hiddleston #loki 2021 #loki (2021)#loki series

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fellulahh · 5 years ago

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Hey! ❤️ your MC accidentally confessing to the brothers while drunk gave me life 🙏🏻 could you maybe do a part 2 of it where MC is sober again the next morning? 🥺❤️ have a nice day! 🥰❤️

Sorry this took me so long to do the other brothers/Diavolo! Unfortunately I can’t find the original post of when MC was drunk so I’ve included everything from it in this post😹

MC’s drunk and confesses her love for him, Part 2: the next morning (Asmo, Beel, Belphie and Diavolo)

Asmo

- MC and Asmo had been drinking together

- Like always, he drunk her under the table - she ended up getting absolutely wasted while he seemed like he hadn’t drunk a thing

- He can’t stop cooing over how smiley she is, she was definitely a happy drunk

- She’s also a little touchy

- Like she’s completely infatuated with Asmo when she’s sober, let alone drunk (only she hides is MUCH better when she hasn’t had a drink)

- She can’t stop pinching his cheeks, telling him how beautiful he is

- At first he was like ‘FINALLY someone notices’ but then after she keeps complimenting him, he actually starts to get flustered and a little shy

- But then she starts telling him she’s love him and then he gets REALLY shy

- Acts all cool around drunk MC saying things like ‘of course you love me, who doesn’t?’ But inside his heart is beating like mad

MC woke up in her bed with a sore head. She let out a loud groan when she heard a knock at her door. Soon Asmo appeared with a jug of cold water and a glass. MC’s eyes lit up at the sight.

“Oh Asmo you have no idea how happy I am to see you.” She sighed, sitting up slowly in her bed.

“If you’re happy to see me now I don’t know what exactly you were feeling last night.” He cooed as he reached her bed, sitting beside her. “MC! You didn’t take off your makeup!” He gasped.

She was too busy processing his first remark. There was definitely something more to his comment but she couldn’t work out what. Silently, she cursed to herself, praying she didn’t do anything embarrassing. Driving herself insane with her overthinking, she decided to ask him.

“Asmo?” She asked groggily.

“Yes MC?” He smiled brightly.

“Did I do anything embarrassing last night?” She asked hesitantly, unsure whether she wanted to hear the answer or not. Bringing up a full cup of water to her lips, she sipped gradually.

“Well let’s see...” he laughed, leaning on one hand as he pondered, “it depends really, MC. Do you consider your undying love for me embarrassing?”

MC spat out her water causing Asmo to jump back. “Sorry?” She asked quietly, making sure she heard him correctly.

“You told me you love me last night! I hope you don’t find that embarrassing, MC. I mean I can’t blame you for falling in love with me!” He gushed.

“Oh my goodness.” She sighed, flopping back onto the bed, “please kill me now.” She moaned as she took another sip of water.

“Kill you?!” Asmo asked shocked, “MC if I were to kill you then how on Earth am I going to tell you I love you too?!”

Once again MC spat out her drink at his words.

“Honestly MC, if you wanted me to know you’re a spitter there are other ways of showing me!” He shook his head before breaking out a smile.

Beel:

- Beel was heading to the kitchen to grab his 100th snack of the evening when he was surprised to see MC’s head in the fridge

- He’s even more surprised to see her munching on whatever food she can find, it’s like he was looking in the mirror

- “Are you okay?” He asks concerned

- “Beel!!” She squeals, standing up straight before pulling him into a hug “Mammon and I were drinking and I got kinda hungry” she spoke sheepishly “but I’m so glad you’re here!”

- She suddenly pulls out her secret stash of food she’d hidden “eat with me!” She grins

- Beel’s a little taken aback but he’s not going to turn down food and time with MC

- He chuckles at her as they sit down by the kitchen counter, he can’t help but notice her staring at him as he’s eating his food

- “What?” He asks amused, food stuffed in his mouth

- “You.” She smiles “I love you Beel.”

- “And I love you too, MC.” He grins, ruffling her hair

- “No, Beel. I’m in love with you.”

- *shocked silence*

As MC stepped into the dining room ready for breakfast, she was only met by Beel sat at the table. As soon as she saw him, she quickly tried to slip back out of the room unnoticed, knowing exactly what she’d said to him the night before. MC wanted to save the embarrassment of finding out her love was unrequited so she made her way into the kitchen to get some breakfast to go.

As she was rummaging through the cupboards, she heard the door open. “Hey MC - how come you ran off?”

‘Uh oh’

“Hi Beel.” She smiled sheepishly, turning around with red cheeks, “I’m not feeling great so I was just going to take some food upstairs to eat.”

“Oh that’s a relief.” He breathed, “I thought you were avoiding me because you told me you love me.” MC’s body froze and Beel noticed her sudden change of pace. “Unless...that is why you’re avoiding me?”

“Listen Beel I’m sorry.” She sighed, “I had a lot to drink and wasn’t thinking - I didn’t mean to tell yo—“

“Why are you worrying so much?” He interrupted, “I told you I love you too last night and you seemed really happy about it!”

MC tried to rack her brain for the memory but had no such luck. “You did?” She asked unsure.

“Yeah.” He chuckled, “I mean admittedly you then told me you’re in love with me and caught me by surprise...”

“Oh no.” She shook her head embarrassed.

“I didn’t think you felt that way about me.” He grinned, pulling her in for a really warm hug. MC was too shocked by his actions to say anything back. Cautiously, she slipped her arms around his body, hugging him too. “Do you wanna go and grab something to eat today?”

“Like a date?” MC asked against his chest confused.

“Yeah, like a date.” He smiled to himself.

Belphie:

- Belphie’s heading up to his room to go to bed for the night

- He does a double take when he opens the door and sees MC passed out

- He tries not to wake her but as soon as he sits on the bed she begins stirring

- “Hey! You came back” she smiles sleepily “Asmo and I got back from the club and I wanted to come and see you but you weren’t here!”

- She immediately snuggles into him

- He looks down at her in awe as she buries her face in his side

- “You are so comfy” she mumbles “why don’t we do this more often??”

- Belphie thinks MC is the purest lil thing he’s ever seen and can’t help the big smile on his face. He doesn’t think anything could make this moment better.

- “Have I ever told you I love you Belphie?”

- Never mind, that did.

MC woke up dazed and confused. She rolled over as her eyes adjusted. Soon her confusion turned into nerves when she realised she was in Belphie’s bed - and after remembering the events of the previous night those nerves turned into panic.

‘You idiot’ she thought to herself, recollecting the moment she told Belphie she loved him.

MC almost let out a scream when she felt someone stirring beside her. Emerging from the covers was Belphie. He rubbed his tired eyes with his fingers before facing MC.

“Oh hi MC.” He said simply.

“Belphie why am I in your bed?” She asked bewildered. She hadn’t even realised that she wasn’t alone under the covers.

“You fell asleep here last night, I went to go and sleep on the sofa downstairs but you woke up and demanded ‘I snuggle you’” he answered with a small smile.

“Yeah that sounds about right...” MC mumbled to herself, feeling more embarrassed with every second that passed. “I’m sorry you had to put up with me last night.”

“I’m not!” He laughed, “I rather enjoyed your drunkenness - drunk MC is a lot more honest that sober MC.”

She silently hoped he wasn’t referring to her confession. Perhaps she said something else while she was intoxicated that she hadn’t remembered?

“In fact can I ask you something?” He spoke with a cunning smile.

“Sure.” MC nodded, watching him intrigued.

“Have I ever told you I love you?” He asked with the cheekiest grin.

MC accidentally let out a gasp when he repeated her words from last night. “Belphie that’s not funny!” She scorned him.

“Answer the question!” He smiled.

“No.” MC answered unamused, “No you haven’t told me.”

“Well it’s true.” He spoke softly, flopping back onto the bed. A relieved smile spread across MC’s face. “You still want to snuggle?” He asked, holding out his arms.

“I’d like that.” She nodded, accepting his offer.

Diavolo:

- Diavolo pops over to the house of Lamentation to see how everyone is, not realising MC and some of the brothers were practically having a house party

- He’s sat in the lounge drinking tea with Lucifer when suddenly MC stumbles in

- “Diavolo!” She beams, seeing the Prince of Devildom in the room, she walks straight over to him, plonking her bottom in the space next to him

- Lucifer shakes his head amused, leaving the room

- “Well hello MC” he grins at her

- MC can’t stop staring at him, she’s absolutely mesmerised by his beauty

- “Have you been drinking?” He laughs at her

- “If I told you yes would you tell Lucifer?”

- Diavolo finds her hilarious

- “I’ve always had a soft spot for you, MC. You never fail to make me laugh.”

- When she hears his words she leans on his shoulder smiling “you’re so handsome. I’d love to take you home with me - my parents would love you.”

- Completely shocked, Diavolo can’t help but smiling as he pulls MC in for a tight hug

MC woke up in her bed as usual. Although she had a small headache, she still got dressed and made her way down for breakfast. As she approached the dining room she was surprised to hear Diavolo’s voice. Usually he goes back to the palace after paying a visit but he must have stayed in one of the spare bedrooms last night.

Stepping into the room, she was met by smiling faces. “Here she is!” Asmo cooed, “our little drunk human.”

“How did you know I was drinking last night?” She asked flustered.

“I might have mentioned it this morning.” Diavolo grinned, “come MC, I’ve saved you a seat next to me.”

“Okay.” She mouthed with a smile. She sheepishly made her way toward him, her heart fluttering over the fact that Diavolo wanted her to sit next to him. As she began serving herself up some food, he kept stealing glances at his exchange student.

MC noticed his stare and a blush soon appeared on her cheeks as she picked up her knife and fork. She quickly turned her head and shot him a subtle smile before anyone could notice.

“So MC.” Diavolo beamed as he leant back on his chair to smoothly put an arm around her shoulder. The brothers were surprised at the interaction as MC turned her face to listen to him. “When are you taking me home to meet your parents then?”

MC’s eyes widened. She’d completely forgotten about her comment the previous night.

“Diavolo!” She gasped causing him to laugh.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten! I was looking forward to the visit.” He grinned, “especially after you told me I’m so handsome.” The brothers couldn’t believe their eyes as they watched their Prince flirt with MC. “Perhaps if you’re not actually ready for me to meet your parents you’ll entertain me by joining me for a drink at the palace this evening?”

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me drabble #obey me imagine #obey me oneshot #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hc

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jj-ktae · 5 years ago

Text

·31· Adoration - Prompt Game -

Title : Adoration Pairing : Mark Tuan x Fem!reader Genre : Smut, as requested Words : 1160 Summary : There is a lot you love about Mark. Prompt N°31 : “It is a kink, and I’m starting to think it’s the only reason you’re dating me.”

AN : Requested by @drunkonmark back when we were still young and innocent. I hope you like it ! 💖

Masterlist

Adoration

Mark has great veins. It’s a fact.

You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of watching them. They form slender bumps under his creamy skin, tracing paths you love to caress. You sigh. How much more tempting does he have to be? Dating Mark is like a patience test on level insane. It takes a lot of willpower not to jump him whenever you can.

Mark knows it. He sees you whine and grab his face, obviously resisting when he smiles too wide or acts cute just to rile you up.

It’s not like it’s the only thing you adore about Mark. On top of being extremely delicate and handsome, he has a soft side you can’t live without. Some might call it extreme quietness, but you know better than refer to Mark as a quiet person. He does have a wild side which he only shows to his dearest people. In a sense, you understand him; he exposes himself when he is sure he can and you approve of that.

But his skin, his figure, it’s everything you ever wished for and no matter how, you made it a personal mission: you will prove your boyfriend how much you adore him.

Then he shows his veins and you turn into a mess, uncaring of your previous objectives and dreaming about your tongue following them wherever they go. Absent-mindedly, your fingers dance on his skin as you are barely recovering from one wild hour of sex.

Your finger touches his skin again and he jumps.

“It tickles…” he breathes, his voice raspy. He already fell asleep. You chuckle, nodding silently but not stopping.

It’s just too tempting.

You hear your boyfriend sigh, before feeling his chest against your back. “I’ll just have to touch you too…” his head finds your neck, making you wriggle away when you feel his teeth against your moist skin.

“Mark!” You complain, laughing when his hand finds your stomach. “I can’t believe you’re being a tease again…”

You hear him snort, his movement slowing. “You’re not the only one who can’t control herself.”

He wraps his naked body against your own, sending you flashes of your previous session. You stop touching his arm when you feel his hand on your hip, fingers pinching the base of your buttock. His breath goes faster, sending hot air onto your skin.

You arch your back without thinking too much about it: whatever physical contact you’ve got with Mark is instinctive, it makes you answer to any of his touch. It’s no surprise to feel his hard-on against your ass. Mark always acts the same when he is turned on and if you can go by how low his fingers are going, he is probably very horny now.

“Your skin is so smooth…” He whispers, letting you reach for his wandering hand which is now tickling the burning skin of your thigh. You can still feel his crotch, sweetly nestled between your buttocks.

You move too quickly for him and find yourself now facing his needy face. He smirks.

“Are you done being all kinky over my veins?” He mocks, not in the least bothered by how close your breasts are to his chest.

“It’s not a kink.” You roll your eyes dramatically, hoping he wouldn’t notice your poor attempt at lying.

Mark gasps. “It is a kink, and I’m starting to think it’s the only reason you’re dating me.”

You scoff, pressing yourself harder against him and wrapping a leg around his waist. “Let me just show you other reasons…” you whisper, using your leg to rub your lower stomach against his penis.

He groans, the friction too pleasurable to tear anything coherent out of his mouth.

Instead, he lifts your leg higher, exposing your core to the fresh air and making you shiver. You hear him chuckle, obviously proud to be able to turn you on as quickly as he made you cum earlier.

It’s exactly what you prefer about Mark. His ability to act like he is chilling when he is plotting the dirtiest things. You were often a victim of him turning from yawning on the sofa to wild riding on the kitchen counter.

You feel his crotch rub against your pussy and even your strongest attempt at closing your legs doesn’t work against his strong arm. The friction feels way too sensitive against your clit and you’re left with nothing but pitiful wailing and a carnivorous laugh from Mark.

“I can’t believe you’re being a tease again…”

You slap his shoulder before moaning again. He didn’t lose any time and is already inside you, erasing all thoughts about veins and whatnot.

His pace is as slow as it is torturing all your nerves. Your wetness is unmissable as it drips, coating both of you and creating sinful sounds he loves to hear. Sleepy sex is one of your favourite, it makes you savour all the tension and offers a slow burn that makes me go crazy with need.

It’s completely fine by Mark and with time, you discovered how much he enjoys the pain that comes along with holding on.

“You’re dripping…” he exhales, clearly trying not to ram into you at full speed. “Is it the veins or…something else…?”

The bastard even mocks you, now. “I guess I’m not the only kinky one here.”

Mark hums, approving and giving you two particularly hard thrusts. “I thought it wasn’t a kink?”

Your head hides into the pillow in a desperate attempt not to gasp too loud.

He keeps that pattern until you give in; slow thrusts followed by harsh ones. It makes you jump in surprise before you can even answer every single time.

“Or is it…?” he continues, his tone now too gentle to be merciful.

When your orgasm builds up, you swear he can instantly feel it. You know it because his thrusts get slower and his body relaxes.

He will probably not give in until you admit it. You don’t know why you have to admit anything, especially now, but it’s not like you have a choice.

You take a deep breath and swallow your saliva. He wants a confession so he will have one.

“I adore everything about you Mark, but fuck yeah I love your veins. I fantasise about them all the damn time. Now please, keep going.”

He laughs, his high-pitched giggles replaced by seductive grunting.

You can only grab his arm for support when he picks up his pace and start slamming into you. You gasp and moan, barely breathing when the waves of pleasure hit your core.

You jerk back and forth, almost convulsing and the contractions around his penis are enough to send him flying along with you.

Your leg falls lifelessly on the bed when he is done and with one last slap on your butt, Mark stirs on the bed.

“Next time I’ll show you all of them.”

You will probably die then.

#got7creators #got7 #got7 scenarios #mark tuan scenarios #mark tuan smut #got7 x you #got7 x reader #mark x you #mark got7 #mark tuan #mark tuan got7 #got7 mark #got7 imagines #mark imagines #promts #prompt game

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audreyxmoon · 4 years ago

Text

i’d do anything for you

gif by @spencexreidimagine

warnings: kidnapping, guns, assault, things go downhill pretty quick, torture, angst

You weren’t a flirt, okay, maybe you were a little. But you couldn’t help yourself! Everyone has a hamartia, and that was yours. You really couldn’t help yourself. You tucked your hair behind you ear as you made coffee with Reid in the BAU kitchen. He began pouring in his usual amount of sugar and almost stopped when he met your judgemental gaze.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ You say lightly, sipping your coffee.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Why so much sugar Doc? Some would say that’s bad for you.’ You reply.

Spencer rolled his eyes. ‘Some of us like it sweet.’

‘Like it sweet hey?’ You ask, making him blush. The ends of his lips quirked up as he looked down at his sneakers.

‘If you’re missing some sugar in your life i’ve got some to spare.’ You say with a wink, making Reid turn even more red if that was possible. ‘Speaking of...’ You say, touching Garcia’s shoulder and pulling her in.

‘Here’s the sweetest person on the floor.’

‘See ya Reid.’ You say with a little wave before sashaying over to your desk to talk to Luke who wanted to discuss a case, not before you whispered in his ear something which made both of you laugh and look over at a virtually glowing Reid.

‘You can’t keep teasing him like this Y/N. You’ll drive the poor guy insane.’

‘Luke- I’m just having fun.’ You whined. ‘Look he’s... fine?’ You say looking back over at Reid, who in an attempt to act cool had somehow managed to knock over the sugar and was furiously trying to clean up the mess.

‘Look at boy wonder! He’s losing it.’ Luke whispered in surprise.

Prentiss made her way over to you two. ‘We’ve got a case. Wheels up in thirty, I’ll brief you on the plane.’

...

You and the team had settled in at the local police station and Prentiss had left you and Reid to work on the geographical profile. Reid had been avoiding you since this morning’s incident and you almost... missed him? You felt his presence behind you and you turned around to see him standing close to you.

‘Uh- Y/N could you please ask one of the officers if there are any popular party sites near by?’

‘Sure.’ You say tentatively, squeezing past him to reach the door. ‘Want anything from the office?’ You ask.

‘No thanks.’ He said with a smile. You couldn’t help but think he was trying to get rid of you.

You found an officer sitting at his desk.

‘Um, officer... Holder, hi! I was wondering if there are any common party sites around here? I’m SSA Y/N by the way.’ You sat up on his desk.

‘Yes, in-fact I know a few.’

You put your map down on the table and let Officer Holder circle the locations.

‘Thank you so much Officer Holder!’ You said gratefully.

‘Please, just call me Ben.’

‘Well thank you Ben.’ You restated. ‘I love your necklace by the way.’ You say, catching the gold glimmering lightly around his neck.

‘Oh, thank you.’ Ben stammered. ‘You can touch it if you’d like.’ He said holding it up to the light. You saw there was a neat tag with his name engraved attached. You delicately played with the chain, bringing your face close to his. ‘It’s gorgeous.’

He smiled. ‘You free for drinks after work?’ He asked.

You jumped down from the table where you were intercepted by Reid who threw his arm over your shoulders, which was a lot more contact than you were used too. However, you felt yourself relax into his touch.

‘We don’t drink on the job Officer.’ Spencer said with more ferocity in his tone that usual.

‘C’mon Y/N I’ve made progress on the profile.’ he said, steering you away.

‘What was that about?’ You giggle once you’re both back in the conference room and Reid had let go of you.

‘Did you see the way that cop was looking at you?’ He hissed.

‘Was it like how you’re looking at me now? Because that’s kinda hot.’ You joke, cocking your head. But Spencer’s being completely serious when he pushes you up against the wall, hands by either side of your head.

‘Will you come get drinks with me tonight?’ He asked gruffly.

‘I thought you said, we don’t drink on the job officer? And I’m not even the one with the eidetic memory.’ You lean in closer so you and Spence’s nose’s are almost touching. Luke burst through the conference room doors causing you and Reid to quickly pull away, Spencer almost tripping in his urgency to escape. Luke spun around wordlessly closing the door behind him. He re-entered seconds later.

‘Hi guys. Tara and I are back from the morgue.’ He said letting Tara in.

‘The unsub is killing low risk victims who are highly intoxicated.’ Tara added, glancing at you and Reid with raised eyebrows. Prentiss and JJ came back from the crime scene just as Rossi and Matt finished interviewing the victim’s family.

‘Okay guys.’ Prentiss began. ‘Garcia has narrowed down the local bars in the Unsub’s hunting zone. I’ve decided we need to send an agent in undercover.’ She looked over at you. ‘Y/N? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.’ She reassured.

‘Of course I can.’ You say confidently. ‘Whatever it takes to catch this son-unsub.’ You quickly correct yourself.

‘Spence will be there with you, Luke and Tara will be shadowing you guys from a bit of a distance. Rossi, JJ and I will be outside in an undercover van.’

...

‘See anyone?’ JJ asks into your ear. You shake your head, trying not to glance up at the security camera. ‘Hi!’ Spencer says brightly, approaching you. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’

‘Yes please.’ You reply with a smile. The bartender whips up four shots of water. You quickly down them along with a glass of ‘spirits’. Reid doesn’t match you, as you begin to act more and more intoxicated, swaying dangerously, trying to dance with Reid, who hesitantly moves along, acting as the non-complicit boyfriend. You leant into his chest as you danced.

‘Was this your idea of drinks?’ You say with a giggle.

Reid was quiet for a little as the music boomed around you.

‘No, but I don’t mind dancing with you.’ He said gently looping his arms around you. You smiled, looking up at him.

‘Really?’

‘Really.’ He confirmed smiling back at you.

The purple lights shaded his face so that shadows leaped out of his sharp features making him look like some kind of Greek God. His eyes were so soft that you felt like they were pulling you in. You stood up on your tippy-toes and kissed him. You felt his soft lips canvas yours as he pulled you closer, your hands in his hair. You finally pulled away for air, Spencer looking shocked. ‘I’ll head to the bathroom now.’ He whispered, pulling away, leaving you alone, vulnerable. You knew the unsub would approach you at any time now. You stumbled drunkenly back over to the bar where you requested more ‘shots’. Slumping onto a bar stool you began to drink when a handsome young man approached you, his hands in the pockets of a black hoodie. He sat beside you and ordered a drink. You noted how he didn’t touch it, instead glancing over at you in your sparkly mini dress.

‘How are you little lady?’ He asked, in the belittling manner you had expected from a classic misogynist.

‘I’m fi-ne.’ You slurred with a lopsided smile, looking at him with lidded eyes.

‘Here alone?’ He asked, stirring his drink with the mini umbrella.

‘My boyfriend’s in the bathroom.’ You reply, taking another sip from your drink. The man grabs your thigh holding you in place. You almost jumped, forgetting you were supposed to be drunk for a moment.

‘I think I’m going to go have a smoke.’ You say, using the prearranged code word and trying to slip out his grasp.

‘Hey. Don’t move.’ Something bulged in his pocket. ‘I know you Agent Y/L/N.’ He spat. ‘You were on the news, a couple of years ago. And if you don’t do as I say you’ll be on the news for a different reason.’

‘Hey. You’re surrounded. What are you gonna do? Kill me then be killed?’ You ask.

‘Wrong.’ He says smugly, pulling you into his chest so you shielded him from Luke and Tara who had drawn their weapons while ushering everyone outside.

‘I’m not willing to negotiate. Let me and Agent Y/L/N and I leave the premises or I shoot her.’

Luke and Tara looked to each other, unsure how to proceed. Suddenly, there was a gunshot in the bathroom.

‘Reid!’ You scream. Tara nods at Luke who rushes inside the bathroom, leaving you Tara and the unsub alone. JJ enters behind Tara, her gun in its holster. ‘Thomas Jacobs, let Y/N go. This can’t end well for you unless you do.’

Thomas begins dragging you towards the back exit. ‘So long team.’ He says with a smile. The door is pushed open by another man who is also holding a gun which is aimed at the team. You hadn’t profiled a partner, it didn’t make sense at all. Nothing in the profile suggested an accomplice. You were thrown into the back of a van which careened away, sirens following closely behind. The van stopped and you almost cried as you heard sirens continue past you. The doors opened again, and you were faced with the unsub and his partner.

‘I did what you asked.’ Thomas growled.

‘Tie her up.’ The partner demanded. Thomas complied.

‘Now put her in the back of the van.’ Thomas dragged you over the the back of a van where he roughly threw you in, locking you into the darkness. There was a gunshot outside, and you grimaced.

‘Y/N?’ A weak voice asked.

You squinted into the darkness making out the silhouette of a man slouched in the back of the van.

‘Spence?’ You ask. You scrabble over to him. ‘Are you okay?’

He nods. ‘They- injected me with something.’ He said with panic.

‘It’s okay Reid. You’re awake now.’ You try and reassure him. You can hear his breathing pick up. You desperately want to hug him, but your arms are tied back so you just lean against him as the van wobbles and shakes.

‘Breathe with me please?’ You request, taking slow deep breaths.

You breath peacefully together. The van stops and you turn to face Spencer as the doors open, and you’re pulled away. You struggle in your captor’s arms but your restricted movement makes it impossible to escape.

‘Y/N!’ Reid yells from the van before he’s pulled out and thrown down next to you. The unsub pulls out two chairs and seats you in them, laughing cruelly when you try and bite him. ‘It seems someone wants to speak to you.’ The unsub says, walking away. You look around the warehouse, looking for a way to escape until another man walks into the room.

‘Hello agents.’ He snarls.

You both stare at him blankly.

‘You’re here because your team took someone from me.’

You laugh. ‘You might have to be a little more specific.’

He turns to face you, his face twisted with rage. He storms towards you.

‘Specific?’ He grabs your face roughly so you’re forced to look up at him.

‘Get your hands off her.’ Reid seethes, thrashing in his seat.

‘I hope your team remembers my brother, Mr Scratch? You’re the reason why he’s dead.’

‘Mr Scratch didn’t have a brother.’ You say, looking into Reid’s eyes, watching as his hands fiddled with the knot behind him.

‘Not by blood.’ The unsub said. ‘I’m here to finish what Peter started. Now where is Hotchner.’

‘I don’t know.’ You say honestly.

‘Oh I know you don’t.’ The unsub replied. ‘But he does.’ He gestured at Reid, pulling his revolver out from his pocket. He emptied out every bullet but one, and aimed it at your head.

‘Tell me where agent Hotchner is.’ He demanded, facing Reid.

‘Don’t!’ You say, earning a blow to the head which left you reeling.

‘You touch her again I will kill you.’ Reid’s tone is lower than you’ve ever heard it.

The unsub just laughed. ‘Would you take a bullet for Doctor Reid?’ He asked.

‘I’d do anything for you.’ You say, looking directly at Reid as the unsub pulls the trigger. You don’t even flinch. Reid nods at you, and you flip yourself, chair and all, into the unsub knocking him to the floor. Reid, who had been untying himself the entire time, ran over, holding the unsub down and tying him up with his own rope. Reid quickly untied you and reloaded his gun, aiming it at his head.

‘Reid.’ You whisper. ‘Don’t do this.’

His hands shook as he looked over at you. ‘I don’t know if I can.’ He said. You stepped in front of him, holding his hand in yours, looking up into his eyes.

‘Spence.’ Your voice shook. ‘You’ll never forgive yourself.’

He turned off the safety.

‘I’ll never forgive you.’

He lowered the gun. You grabbed him, holding him close to you. His arms wrapped around your waist as he sobbed into your shoulder. Your tears were smothered by his vest. The locked warehouse door burst open as SWAT and the BAU entered, the team heading straight to you and Reid. ‘Are you okay?’ Prentiss asked as Matt yelled for the Medics to come over. You nodded, you and Reid hesitantly moving apart. The medics worked on the cut on your head, but the whole time your eyes never left Reid. You tried to convince yourself that the infatuation building inside of you was just the trauma, but deep down you knew you had loved him ever since you had met him on your first day at the BAU.

#spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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ncityislove · 5 years ago

Text

His Worst Nightmare

➳ Pairing: Demon!Jisung x Reader

➳ Genre: Angst, Demon AU

➳ Word Count: 9.2k

➳ Warnings: mention of murder and blood but no actual death

Requested? Nah.

You wake up in a pitch-black room, the smell of something burning, stinging your nose. You let out a choked cough, attempting to sit up, only to realize you can't. Your chest is tied down to a table, along with your arms and legs with buckled straps. Fear runs through your veins as you call out for help.

You don't know where you are but the room must be humongous for the way your voice echoes, your screech bouncing around the room for what must've been over a minute until it comes back to you. That's when a singular lightbulb hanging over your head comes on and a boy standing to your left comes into view. You scream again and he hushes you with a finger to his lips.

The light is dim so you can only see his silhouette. How long he had been standing there, you didn't know, but all you could feel was the shrill voice in the back of your brain telling you to run away from him. You're breathing loudly now, the cold metal of the table contrasting with the warmth of your skin. The smell is stronger. You finally recognize the scent as burning flesh.

You stir on the table, screaming and calling for someone—anyone—but the boy puts a hot hand on your shoulder, silencing you. You don't know how he did it, but your voice is gone, your limbs frozen. He leans into the light and you can finally see his face.

He's handsome, his jaw chiseled with small eyes that would've been charming if it wasn't for the alarming blood-red pupils that stare down at you. His lips curve into a wicked smile, his pointed teeth white and pearly as his tongue slid over them quickly.

"Wake up," he whispers.

You shoot up in your bed with a gasp. Your heart thuds in your chest as you try to stop the stream of tears pouring out of your tear ducts. You had to remind yourself that he wasn't real, your breaths coming out uneven.

You've had the same nightmare every night for the past month, leaving you on edge and restless. The bags under your eyes have bags. You put a clammy hand to your forehead, the skin hot to the touch, only reminding you of the burning temperature of the room in your dream.

You don't know why you were having nightmares and why of all things it was always the same boy every night. It never went any further than that bone-chilling smile except once, two or three weeks ago, when his jaws opened the size to fit 3 large watermelons, blood dribbling down his chin. You woke up screaming that time, causing your parents to rush in to check on you.

You get up to make a cup of coffee, deciding against going back to sleep. Caffeine has been your kindest friend for the past few weeks. Unfortunately, you couldn't stay awake forever and eventually, you'd drift off, finding yourself strapped to that table again.

You groggily padded across the kitchen floor, grabbing your favorite mug from the drying rack and pouring yourself the largest cup of coffee possible.

The computer cafe you were currently sitting in was emptier than usual, which slightly lifted your spirits. The icing of your half-eaten cupcake was starting to become too sweet so you get up to dispose it in the garbage at the ordering counter.

Your legs feel weak as you walk, your entire body suffering from the lack of proper rest. You feel the world sink in when you blink occasionally, dozing off over and over. This won't do. You get into line to grab another coffee.

You're sitting back at your computer, nose hidden in your oversized coffee mug, when a tall figure shadows over you, their presence strikingly familiar to you—so familiar that when they touched your shoulder, you didn't even flinch.

"Excuse me?," said the young boy.

You turn around, your blood suddenly running cold. The face you've dreamed of every night for the past month—the face that was so terrifyingly beautiful that his image was permanently ingrained into your mind. The slope of his nose those his slanted eyes—it was him! There was no mistaking it.

His lips curl into an awkward frown, his eyebrows lifting slightly at the way your eyes pop out at him.

"A-are you okay?"

You shake your head side to side as you abruptly stand up, gathering your things with trembling hands. You had to go home. You were hallucinating now. You had to be. But why did he seem so real? You were going insane.

"Hey!" he calls out, his hand reaching out to stop you, and you do flinch this time although he never actually makes physical contact with you.

"I just came over here to tell you that you missed the trash can," he points to the bin that you threw your cupcake away at—or at least you thought you did. You look at him, noticing the pastel pink uniform and his name tag.

"Oh," you manage to say. "I-I'm sorry, I'll pick it up. It's just—I thought you were someone...I mean you look so much like him."

He looks confused as he struggles to put together your words, as he simply got annoyed with you trashing his workplace with your unfinished food.

"Jisung," you read his name tag aloud. "Jisung, how long have you been working here?"

"About two weeks," he shrugs.

You nod. It still doesn't make sense that he had the exact same face as your torturer—the same voice too! You struggle to maintain eye contact with him, expecting the red pupils to make an appearance any minute. But he seemed like a completely different person. He was kind of awkward, shy almost. He wore his hair differently, his eyebrows barely visible under the blonde locks that covered his forehead, unlike the perfect middle part you were used to. That way you could see his eyes clearly when he watched you writhe in fear, that ever so wicked smile would appear when you tried to scream.

You swallowed thickly as you apologize again, making your way to pick up your cupcake when his voice stops you.

"Who is it by the way? Who do I look like?"

You freeze, the tone of his voice alarming as if he knew something. Or maybe it was all in your head. You turn slightly to face him, his head cocked curiously at you, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Some guy I know. He's an awful person...if you can even call him that," you say and then you turn around not caring to see his reaction, quickly cleaning up your mess before squabbling out of there.

You don't visit the cafe again. It's been three days since then and you've still been getting the same nightmare except for the new addition of Jisung's cheap name tag. You weren't even sure if they were the same person but all of it seemed impossible either way. How could you dream of someone you haven't met? And if it truly was him that tortured you in your sleep, was he that evil creature in real life too?

You begin to cry. You just wanted it to stop. You hide your face in your bookbag as you wait in the cold. The firm cemented steps offer your bottom no comfort as tears dampen the collar of your shirt. You had fainted in class from exhaustion and now the nurse was sending you home early.

As if you weren't already embarrassed enough a group of people walked passed you during your meltdown—no doubt ogling at your crumpled figure. One of them stops and heads back towards your direction. You cringe, waiting for them to walk past again except they don't. They stop right next to you. You really didn't want to be bothered right now—wasn't it obvious? You kept your head down, hoping if you didn't acknowledge the person they would go away. Maybe it was working. They're backing away now. Thank god—

"Uh, hey, are you alright?"

You squeeze your eyelids shut as a string of curses run through your mind. You give a curt nod of your head, your face still nuzzled into your bookbag.

"I remember you," the voice pauses. "You're not crying because you missed the trash can again are you?"

You slowly sit up to look at him, tears still streaming down your swollen cheeks. It was him. He found you again. This couldn't be a coincidence.

"Bad joke?" he awkwardly chuckled.

"You don't go here," you state.

He was caught off guard by your response. He gives you a once over before sliding off his plum purple puffer jacket and placing it over your shoulders. Your eyes widen at the warmth that envelopes you. The jacket was nearly scorching but barely just warm enough to where it wasn't uncomfortable.

"My cousin goes here. Me and my parents are picking him up for my aunt as a favor."

You nodded not really believing him. "So you're skipping school to come with your parents?"

Jisung took the question as an invitation to sit next to you. "No, of course not. I'm homeschooled."

You frowned. It angered you his words made sense when every cell in your body told you he was lying.

"You wanna talk about why you were crying?"

You shake your head, looking back at your book bag as a strong gust of wind blew your hair wildly in your face. You shiver, closing the jacket tighter around you.

"Aren't you cold?" you ask.

He just shrugs, flicking the hair out of his eyes with a tilt of his head. "That guy I remind you of, you must not like him very much, huh?"

"Hate his guts," you grumbled.

"Whatever he did to you must've been bad because you treat me like I'm gonna bite your head off any second."

You look back at him with the toughest expression you could muster. "Who's to say you won't? What if you are the same person?"

"And what if I'm not?" he interjects. "What if I'm just me?"

"What are you trying to say?"

Jisung stares at you for a beat and you swear you see a flicker in his eye. "I'm not who you think I am. That's all."

He gets up and walks away just as your mom arrives. You stare at his back as he walks through the glass double doors, not even taking a second glance back.

Later that afternoon, you're stuck on the couch with your mother hovering over you. She's currently on the phone with the doctor while you're swamped in blankets with a wet towel on your forehead that's slightly blocking off your vision. She's frantic, making up symptoms you don't have as she paces around the living room space.

You huff, trying to think of a way to get out of this situation. You sit up, removing the cloth from your forehead only for your mother to force you back down with an icy glare.

"Yes, we'll be there at 10:30 sharp," she writes the time down on a notepad.

"Yes, thank you so much...okay...bye."

"Mom," you call out as soon as she hangs up. "I gotta return my friend's jacket."

"You're not going anywhere in this state," she puts her hands on her hips.

You flop back on the couch dramatically. "But I told him I'd give it to him today," you lie.

"I think he'll understand," she says walking into the kitchen.

There was no way you could stay here another moment without getting answers. What did he mean earlier? You knew he was trying to convince you of something, but what?

"And what if I'm not?" he interjects. "What if I'm just me?"

Did he know about your dreams? Your head was beginning to ache and you weren't sure if it was because you were going to faint again or if your brain was starting to hurt from overthinking.

"I'm not who you think I am. That's all."

You double-check to see if your mom is paying attention before grabbing the jacket and your shoes, tip-toeing out of the front door. You hop on your bike and pedal like there's no tomorrow down the street to the computer cafe.

The ride feels longer than usual, the streets cold and barren. The grey sky threatened rain but as if someone were looking out for you from above, the heavy puffy clouds held out a little longer. You nearly get hit by a red pick up truck in your haste, gaining you a middle finger as he zoomed by angrily.

Out of breath and slightly dizzy, you step into the cafe, your eyes peeled for a familiar head of blonde hair. You're red in the face, bent over your knees as tears sting your eyes. You don't see him. He's not here.

The door opens behind you and you're too emotional to move out of the way. Whoever it was would just have to squeeze by.

"Oh, thanks, my jacket," Jisung says, standing beside you now.

You stand up straight, almost smiling in relief. Jisung was still dressed in his casual clothes; his shift must not have started until now. Suddenly you feel foolish for being so melodramatic. Here you were, your eyes still glossy and your cheeks still glowing a faint red from the cold ride and the wind whipping your hair against your face when it all seemed so dumb. Why were you here? To confront a boy you hardly knew about your nightmares? To accuse him of the impossible? You had everything you wanted to say planned out perfectly, imagining the weight that would lift off your shoulders ever since he left you at school but now, finally face to face, all those words died at your tongue.

You look at Jisung and stick your arm out, the jacket dangling in your hand. Jisung smiles brightly at you before taking it, the corner of his lips turning downward as he examines your face. He looks somewhat hesitant to bring it up but he does anyway.

"Is whatever was bothering you earlier still upsetting you?"

You nod, biting your lip.

"I was hoping leaving you my jacket would cheer you up somehow," he chuckled, his eyes thoughtful. "It was stupid."

"It did cheer me up in a way," you start. "It reminded me of something...but I'm ready to tell you what's wrong now."

The whites of Jisung's eyes became more visible as he looked at you, his lips parted slightly. He leans in closer, ready to hear what you have to say.

"Can we step outside for a minute?"

"Uhh," he glances at his watch. "Yeah, sure."

You walk out first, hearing his soft footsteps follow behind you. The sky is even darker now, even though you were only inside for a moment, the smell of rain in the air. The wind was strong, blowing the trees wildly.

You kept your back to him. "I've seen you before."

Jisung is silent for a moment. "You mean the guy who looks like me?"

"No," you correct him. "I've seen you before. You are the guy who looks like you. Aren't you? Except you act different."

"Huh? I just met you...how would I..." he trails off.

You turn around, tears threatening to spill over. You weren't afraid of him now, only in your sleep you were but for some reason, as you spoke, your heart thudded in your chest. You didn't feel in danger when you were with this Jisung. The Jisung that kindly asks you to pick up your trash and gives you his jacket in the cold. But the jacket...it was more than a kind gesture...something wasn't right about it.

"Why was your jacket so hot?"

His eyes fell low before looking back at you. "You and I meeting was fate, you know that?"

You frown. "What?"

"If you've seen me before then we must've met in your dreams correct?"

You take a step back. "How did you—"

"How did I know? It would take me forever to explain. But you're special, __."

A white flash illuminates Jisung's face, a loud crack of thunder echoing around you causing you to jump.

Jisung starts to laugh madly. Terror runs through your body as you start to regret coming here at all.

"What are you?" you ask, your voice shaking in fear.

Jisung smirks at you. "You know what I am, baby."

There's another crash of thunder and you nearly hop an inch out of your shoes. Jisung starts to laugh at you again.

"Are you going to kill me?"

He puckers his lips at you with a tilt of his head. "No. Why would I do that?"

"Isn't that what you do," you tutt, your throat tight. "In my dreams, you were always about to kill me."

"That's...no, I'm not like that," he clenched his fists at the statement.

"But you think it's funny to torture me? I haven't slept in over a month because of you."

"A month? No, that's not right. What happened in those dreams?"

A drop of water hits the top of your head but you ignore it. "Like you wouldn't know!" you answer, your brows furious and angry as you look up at your torturer.

"I have no control over your dreams. Can you tell me about them, please?"

"Nightmares," you correct. "Call them what they are. Don't act coy with me. Don't lie. If you're going to kill me then just do it already."

"I don't kill anymore!" his eyes flash red.

You gasp, you're blood running cold at the terrifyingly familiar image. You run away. You make it to your bike but before you can hop on, a hot hand grabs your arm, yanking your body off onto the damp pavement.

"Don't you run away from me!!" Jisung looks angry and maybe a little hurt by your actions but you don't care. You just want to get out of here.

"Just leave me alone, okay!" you get up to run away again but he lifts you again with one strong arm, his hand wrapped tightly around your throat. Your eyes bulge out of your head when you realize you can't breathe.

"You're pissing me off now. I don't want to hurt you but it's the only way to make you listen."

You struggle against him, your fingers clawing at his hand while he seems entirely unaffected. His nostrils are flaring, the pointy teeth now visible as he glares at you with those blood-red eyes.

"I don't control your dreams. The only person who can control your dreams is you. I only met you a week ago so stop accusing me of something not even I can do." And with that, he drops you.

You fall on the sidewalk, gasping and coughing. Your butt hurts from landing on it so roughly and your left arm stings, probably a cut from the fall but you don't check. You can't bring yourself to look away from him.

"What do you want from me?"

"Well, I can't tell you now," he scoffs. "I don't trust you."

A fat tear escapes your eye, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you try to make sense of reality. "Who the hell would believe me even if I told anyone??"

"There are those who believe we exist. Mostly the looneys of the church but I can't have you going around exposing me. Then I'd have to kill them all and I don't want to do that again. I'm reformed now."

Again?

"You said you're not who I thought you were. If you're not him then who are you?"

A gentle ring of thunder fills the thick air as it starts to rain. It's cold and uncomfortable but neither of you makes an effort to go back inside.

"I'm not a killer. That is, only if you don't make me out to be."

How could he say that when you could see the fangs that could tear your body in half. How could he say that when he almost killed you just now?

"You've killed people before," your voice waivers even though you will it not to. "You're a murderer. That's what your kind does to humans. Kill."

"Say it. Say what I am." Jisung crouches to your level. "C'mon. Say it."

Your body's shaking from how close he's gotten. You say nothing as he waits for you to respond. You remain silent.

He leans into your ear and whispers, "Either you say it on your own or I'll make you say it."

You let out a weak noise, turning your head away as he tucks your thick wet hair behind your ear.

"Demon," you wail, as tears blur your vision.

Jisung smiles triumphantly, pressing his warm lips to your forehead. Your body shrivels away from him as you scream, a fist landing on his hard chest. He takes your hand in his, keeping it on his chest, sliding your hand to the left and you feel something. Something that doesn't make sense. It's a heartbeat. It was a little faster than a normal one but it was still a heartbeat.

You look at him in shock, your mouth rendered speechless.

"I'm late for my shift," he gets up. "I'll see you soon. But remember what I said. You control your own dreams."

Jisung wraps his jacket around you once more with the obvious intent on having you return it again tomorrow. His eyes fade back to brown as he sends you one last smile and the awkward and kind Jisung is back almost as if he never left. He walks back inside the cafe, leaving you alone in the rain, shivering, wet, and traumatized.

A slightly chubby waitress decked out in tattoos with blue hair brings out your steak, medium rare, with a side of lightly salted fries as per Jisung's request. His order was something French that you couldn't pronounce, nor identify, but smelled heavenly, your mouth watering for the order that was not your own.

Jisung checks his expensive watch. "They're late. As usual."

"Hmm?" you snap your eyes away from his meal. "Who is?"

"We're here!" A beautiful older couple makes their way to your table.

"Mom! Dad! It only took you fifteen years," Jisung remarks as he leans in to give them a hug.

"It was your father, love. He got hung up with the gentleman at the sports club."

"Ah! It was business! You know how that sort of thing goes."

They both sit in their seats across from you, picking up their menus. His mother's hair is combed back neatly, her youthful skin glowing as she smiles pleasantly at you. His father is dressed rather casually, wearing khaki shorts and a baby pink polo but the giant rock on his pinky finger told you of his financial status.

"Oh my," says his mother. "And you, my darling, how are you? I've heard so much about you."

His father hums. "Ah yes, you're a special one aren't you? Haven't had a human dine with us in decades."

"Special? How am I special?" you ask, taking a French fry.

"Jisung, haven't you told her?" his father takes a sip of his sparkling water.

"Tell me what?" you look to Jisung.

The temperature in the room starts to rise and you break out into a sweat, fanning yourself with a napkin.

"Why would I tell her what she already knows?" Jisung answers, taking a spoonful of his soup.

You give him an odd look which he ignores and you decide to bite your tongue. A certain glimmer around Mrs. Park's neck catches your eye and you can't look away, like it was a magnet, drawing your eyes to it, willing you not to look away.

"Mrs. Park? That's a lovely necklace your wearing," you say marveling at the shiny red cut of the mysterious diamond. "May I ask what stone that is?"

Her lips curve a little, the pointed bones of her teeth peeking through. "That's a family secret. One that you'll know soon, my dear."

The waitress returns, notepad in hand, asking what the two would like to order.

Mrs. and Mr. Park smile sweetly at the young girl, giving her a long once over. "Yes, we'd like to have you for dinner."

She drops her pen from her notepad. "Excuse me?"

Mr. Park jumps up and snaps the poor girl's neck like a twig, catching her limp body as it falls forward. You scream in horror.

"Christ," Jisung rolls his eyes.

Mrs. Park rips her head off, dropping it carelessly to the ground with a thud. The restaurant is unbearably hot, and you're sweating through your lengthy dress. Your mouth is gaping as you helplessly watch them tear the woman to shreds picking off the meat on her bones and tear the flesh with their teeth. You look around to see everyone carrying on normally as if someone didn't just get ruthlessly murdered.

You can't pry your eyes away as they continue to feast on her carcass, blood dripping down their chins, red splatters tarnishing their clothes. Mrs. Park looks at you, that same smile from earlier still there but now it holds something dark behind it. Her eyes were that crimson red that you'd seen so many times. She crawls onto the table making her way towards you, and you scoot back falling out of your chair.

"I'm not who you think I am," she whispers.

"Wha-what?" you stumble backward.

"I'm not who you think I am. I'm not who you think I am. I'm not..." she turns over on her back, her arm laying on your food, giggling wildly.

"You control your dreams, __" Jisung says standing up.

You look at him, bewildered.

"This is your dream. Control it."

A whack of thunder shakes the ground, yanking you out of your dream. Your heartbeat is irregular as you stumble out of your bed. Startled, you jump out of bed, pulling on your shoes and jacket, grabbing Jisung's coat along the way.

You left the house in haste, going to the only place you could think of. You needed to talk to him. Whether he'd show up or not was a chance you were willing to take.

You pedaled your bike down the cold, empty streets with the thought of Jisung on your mind. You were confused but you felt like you knew everything at the same time. It was so strange but you couldn't remember the last time anything felt normal.

The cafe was closed. The door was locked, obviously, so you let out a gust of air as you sat down against it. It was nearly 3 am and you left the house alone, loitering around some dumb computer cafe. What had your life come to? You don't even hang out with your friends anymore. You barely even speak to your family these days.

"Jisung!" you yell.

It was only a guess that he would show up. Maybe he'd hear you from wherever he was or maybe you could summon him? It sounded dumb but it made sense at the time.

You yelled his name once more, the desperation in your voice evident but still, nothing.

"Jisung, please," you whisper, your head falling into your lap.

Just as you're about to give up and go home, a blast of heat blows against your back in the strikingly cold morning. You gasp at the sound of the door unlocking behind you, jumping up to meet the boy you came to see.

Your eyes drank in his familiar face and dark clothes. "You came."

"Didn't you ask me to?" he tilts his head, giving you a sideways smirk that you never saw before. "Oh, Jisung! Oh, Jisung, please!" he mocks you and you frown.

"You need to loosen up a bit," Jisung clicks his tongue. "I don't think I've ever even seen you smile."

"I don't do that much these days."

"I see. Come in," he opens the door wider and you follow him into the warm cafe.

It's dimmer than usual, only half of the lights had been turned on and the absence of music almost made you uncomfortable. Jisung sat down at a random table and you cautiously sit across him. It feels as if he's examining every inch of your skin, his eyes slowly dragging over your face to the bottom of your torso where the table blocks his vision. It makes you antsy. You try to ignore the feeling.

"You heard me calling. How'd you do that?"

Jisung drums his fingers on the table in thought, "I don't really know. I've never been summoned before. I just heard you so I came."

"But how'd you get here so fast? Where'd you come from? Your home? Where do you live?"

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Now, why would I tell you all that? I don't trust you."

You sigh, chewing your bottom lip—a motion you caught his eyes following.

"Well...what can you tell me? I deserve some answers, don't you think?"

He laughs at that. "You don't deserve anything, human. I owe you nothing."

You press your lips together in annoyance. If he didn't want to tell you anything then why'd he show up? He seemed to have some interest in you by the way he keeps toying with you. You can't figure him out. He's hot then he's cold. One minute he's shy and sweet then the next he's rude and angry. But sometimes he was a mix of both, like right now. A happy medium of kind and a touch of asshole. But at least he wasn't going to kill you. You were sure of that. You couldn't explain why but ever since you had that nightmare this morning you had this feeling that he didn't want to hurt you—which was illogical of course—because he did, in fact, hurt you. You had the bruises to prove it. Your neck was covered in black and blue bruises with a distinct outline of five large fingers.

"I had another dream," you start and Jisung raises a brow at you. "I trust you. I don't know why but I have this feeling that I can't get rid of that you won't hurt me."

He frowns for a bit before he begins to chuckle. "My suspicions were true."

"What do you mean?"

"You want to know why you've been having those dreams?"

You nod frantically, bracing yourself for what he was about to tell you, but nothing could prepare you for the words that were about to leave his lips.

"You're destined to become my slave."

You come to on a leather couch in an unfamiliar room. It was a living room. A large one at that. You sit up, your head feeling heavy and full of fluff. Your shoes are sat neatly to the side of the couch along with your jacket. Standing up on sore legs, you stretch before looking around in what you could only assume was Jisung's house.

It's very...empty. Like it had been barely lived in. Almost as if no one lived here at all. The kitchen's beautiful, large and spacious with fancy looking cupboards. You walked down a long dark hall passing an extravagant dining room with a table that looked like it was a mile long and a chandelier that was so humongous it must've weighed more than your immediate family all together.

You hear the sound of water as you approach a room on your right, pushing open the door left slightly ajar. Jisung is staring right at you as if he knew you were coming. The bathwater is running and he's sitting on the toilet seat with a tub of bath salts in his hands.

"Morning, sunshine," he smiles cheekily at you.

You step into the steamy room, eying him with a groggy pout. "What the hell happened?"

He scoffs. "Of course you don't remember. I told you that you're my slave and you didn't handle it well."

You almost lose your balance, grabbing the counter just in time. "Pardon??"

Jisung rolls his eyes. "I made you a bath. You look like hell so I'll leave you to it," he gets up patting his jeans.

You didn't notice his change of clothes until now. Just how long had you been there?

"Hold on, I have a question. Several actually—"

"I'll be back in a bit," he stalks off closing the door behind him.

You open the door to call after him but he's nowhere to be found. It was like he disappeared into thin air. It wouldn't surprise you if he actually did. You return to the bathroom and disrobe, deciding you might as well. You couldn't remember the last time you took a bath. Must've been years. You pause at the mirror and nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw how awful you looked. Jisung did not lie when he said you looked like hell. There were dark circles around your eyes and you looked pale, on top of that your hair was a frizzy mess. You finger-combed your hair to the best of your ability before giving up and sinking into the warm bath Jisung had drawn for you.

You let your mind reel as you sat in the tub, your knees tucked into your chest. Nothing made sense anymore. Oh, how you longed to go back to the life you had where the only thing you had to worry about was struggling with your math homework. If Jisung was telling the truth, then your life would never be the same. There had to be a way out of this, right? Maybe this is your punishment for something horrible you did but what? The worst thing you'd ever done was steal a couple of lipglosses from Target and that was two years ago. Or maybe it's because you lied to your mom about passing your Spanish test last month? You regretted it but it still seemed too small of a thing to be punished so greatly for. No matter how hard you picked your brain you couldn't come to a conclusion in any reality where you deserved this. You just wished you could get some answers soon. What would you tell your parents? Your friends? Would you have to leave them all behind? Did you have to do evil things now?

No, he said he changed. He wasn't like that. At least you hoped he wasn't. The scary thing is that you couldn't find it in yourself to care if he did make you do evil things. Just yesterday you would rather kill yourself than to do Jisung's evil bidding. You didn't like that you didn't mind it. You didn't like that nothing added up. You couldn't understand why in the world all of this had to happen to you. You didn't know where you were, how long you've been gone or what was going to happen to you. It all felt like a never-ending bad dream.

After you washed up and dried yourself, you sat idly on the toilet as the water drained from the bathtub. You felt a little better now that you were clean but you could feel the foreshadowing of an oncoming headache from the stress.

There was a gentle knock on the door, shaking you out of your pity party and you get up to open it. Jisung is in different clothing once again, wearing a hoodie and baggy dark jeans.

You stay there for three long days. You don't speak much in that time, but you feel like you know him a bit better. He wasn't as scary as you thought. After spending seventy-two hours together, you feel more at ease in his presence. He refused to discuss your circumstances and you never ask to go home. The thought never crosses your mind after the first day and you almost forget about your life at home completely. Instead, you spend all your time observing Jisung. You watch him cook and clean, sew and paint. He's perfected almost a million hobbies. He doesn't acknowledge your existence as you watch, only bothering to speak to ask what you wanted to eat or if you were tired and wanted a bath. Contrary to your earlier thoughts, he never ordered you around. He left you to wander around on your own, doing as you pleased. Whether that be to read a book from his collection, watch a movie or watch him. On the third morning, you're up early, sitting cross-legged in the bed of Jisung's guest bedroom. After taking a shower, you were stuffing your face with a bowl of oatmeal Jisung had so expertly prepared.

"You ready to go home? School should be starting soon."

Home. Your mother. Oh, shit.

"What time is it?" you tuck your damp hair behind your ears.

"Five thirty-seven."

Your eyebrows knit together as he tosses your uniform at you and you catch it.

"Hurry up," and with that, the door is shut in your face.

It only took you about a minute to change and then you were scampering down the hall to the living room where Jisung was waiting patiently, sitting as still as stone.

"Good then. Let's go."

"Wait," you grab his sleeve and Jisung stares down at your hand as if it were alien.

"Can you please tell me what's going on now? I'm going insane here."

He sighs before motioning for you to sit down. You quickly oblige, plopping down on the couch and he sits opposite of you.

"Sometimes, there are certain circumstances where a demon who does their job very well would be rewarded by Satan by being gifted their very own human slave.

"It's very rare actually, and Satan stopped doing it centuries ago bc it led to us being discovered. Then he had to "handle" it so I'm not sure why he gifted you to me. Does that answer all your questions?"

You give him a pointed look. He sighs.

"I don't know what to tell you. I don't know what's going on either; I don't even work anymore."

"What do you mean you don't work?"

"I'm retired. I don't like causing harm to humans and Satan let me settle down up here."

"Satan sounds awfully nice..." you frown a bit.

Jisung rolls his eyes slightly. "Oh, believe me. He isn't. Satan lives up to his name just fine. He let me go under special circumstances."

"So you're special?"

"Yep."

You folded your arms over your chest. "How so?"

"My parents and I were really good at doing what we do. The best actually. For centuries we were the apple of Lucifer's eyes. I mean, we got the best treatment, luxury lifestyle, the other demons didn't dare mess with us. It was almost like...heaven."

You purse your lips, feeling uncomfortable with the comparison to heaven.

"One day, I met a human I was assigned to and she was different than any human I'd ever seen. I was supposed to influence her to sin but I just couldn't no matter how hard I tried. This human was the purest of any kind I'd met and she was so young. The young ones are supposed to be the most malleable but she always resisted. She was good.

I realized something then. I thought, maybe not all humans don't deserve to go to hell. Some do. Some don't. And without the influence of us, a lot of them would go to heaven. After doing it for so long, I started to feel guilty. I've never been human. I was born like this. I never experienced a human life but I wanted to. So I asked to retire."

You were sure your eyes were bulging out of your head but you were too shocked to try to change your expression. "And he just let you go? Just like that?"

"Yeah. Satan wasn't happy. He thought it was stupid, which, it might be a little. A demon can't live like a human. He claimed after a few decades I'd see humans for what they really were and then I'd be back."

"So, then Satan made me your slave to try to convince you to come back?"

"I'm not sure," he flicks a strand of hair out of his eyes. "But Lucifer doesn't do anything without a purpose. I'm sure we'll find out soon."

"Will you go back?"

"I don't want to but if I have to then I will. It's what I was created for."

"Oh," you were lost on what to say next.

"Are you ready to go back home?" He stands up, holding a hand out to you.

You're about to take it when the doorbell rings. Jisung looks frigid. Was that fear in his eyes?

"My parents are here."

"Huh? Why?" The scenes of your dream flash in your mind. The headless waitress and blood gushing everywhere. If they were anything like the dream version of them then you were dead meat.

"I don't know. They're not nice people, __," he warns.

"Should I run? Or hide?"

"There's no point; they'd find you. Just sit still and don't say a word."

Jisung walks to the door, opening it to reveal two faces you've seen before. His mother didn't look pleased to see her son but his father pulled him in for a quick hug, patting him on the back.

"Well, are you going to invite us in? We knocked this time. Just like you asked," his mom says with a hint of annoyance.

Jisung steps back to let them inside and it's like an alarm goes off in their heads because as soon as they step one foot inside, their heads snap to find you sitting on the couch.

"Oh...you have company," his father says in confusion.

"Jisung, what is this?" His mom looks at you in disgust.

"Mom, Dad, this is __. We were just on our way out, actually. So, this is a bad time."

His mom shoots him daggers with her eyes. "You aren't going anywhere we just got here. Jisung, where are your manners?"

Jisung stands there, looking defeated as he mumbles an apology.

"Hello, there! I'm Mrs. Park," she extends a hand out to you. You look at Jisung before getting up to shake it.

"Mr. Park," his dad shakes your hand next. Their hands are just as hot as Jisung's. You shuffle back to your spot on the couch.

"Is this your friend, Jisung?" Mrs. Park asks, looking you up and down.

"She's my slave, mother."

His parents look at each other in shock, smiles of joy creeping across their faces.

"Lucifer gifted you a slave?" Mrs. Park practically jitters with excitement.

"Yes, mother."

"Son, that's amazing! You have to come back now!"

Jisung clenches his fists at his sides. "I'm not coming back. Not now. Not ever."

"Don't be silly, Jisung. It would be extremely disrespectful not to after receiving such a gift. He stopped gifting slaves centuries ago," Mrs. Park snaps.

"Mom, I made my decision."

"You foolish boy. You're an embarrassment to us all. We've been forced into hiding ever since you left. We're the laughing stock of the underworld because you decided to go soft and ruin the reputation we worked so hard to build. Two centuries of hard work down the drain."

"Mother—"

"Don't you understand? This isn't a gift it's a warning. You've been gone too long, Jisung. He wants you back. You've had your fun living your little fantasy; now it's time to come back to reality."

"Son, please," Mr. Park sits down next to you. "Listen to your mom."

"I...no. No, I'm staying here," says Jisung.

"You're so selfish! He won't just punish you he'll punish us all! Me and your father will be extinguished right along with you. My dearest son, please use the common sense I gave you and come back to us. I've missed you. We were a great team."

Jisung looks torn as he looks at you then back to his parents. "I have to get going."

"Jisung," Mr. park barks.

"Please leave," Jisung opens the door for them.

"You're going to get us all killed," Mrs. Park snarls as she nudges her husband to get up. "Close the damn door, Jisung. We're leaving."

Jisung closes it, his back falling against the wall.

"We're not done talking about this," his mother declares before looking at you one last time, the corner of her lips turned downwards. You think your eyes are playing tricks on you as the couple dissipate right in front of you, fading into a silhouette and then finally nothing. They're gone.

Jisung opens the door again. "Come on."

The ride to your house is silent and too quick if you were being honest. Jisung lives fairly close to your house although in a much better neighborhood for someone who's living off of minimum wage.

You're still a bit shaken up but much calmer than before. Once you enter the house, you find the lights off. Your mom was still asleep. You thank god as you creep to your room as quietly as possible. When you open the door, however, your mom is sitting on your bed holding a book in her hands. Was that your diary?

"Y/n, just where have you been all night?"

You deflect her question. "Why do you have my diary?"

"This is my house and my rules. I am your mother for Christ's sake; I have the right to know what's going on in my daughter's life and if you won't let me in, damn it, I'll find out my own way."

"That's a complete invasion of my privacy!"

She looks taken aback at your brazen comment. "Raise your voice at me one more time—I dare you! You were out with that boy from the computer cafe, weren't you?"

"What? No! My friend, Deana broke up with her boyfriend and it was an emergency. I had to go talk to her."

She narrows her eyes. "Don't you lie to me."

"I swear it! It's true," your bottom lip trembled as you held back tears.

You wanted to tell the truth but you couldn't. Jisung wouldn't like that very much and quite frankly, you were simply terrified of what his parents might do to you more than your angry mother. Would she believe you anyway? You didn't have any proof. She'd probably lock you up in some psych ward hundreds of miles away from here at the first mention of demons. Or maybe she'd just think you were lying. Her face was red with fury but you can tell by the slight quiver in her voice she was more worried about your safety than anything.

"I know somethings going on," she rests her hands on her knees. "You've been having sleepless nights and you don't go out as much anymore. And now there's some boy who comes out of nowhere and you're running out to meet him when you've got a fever. You scared me half to death and I just let it slide but now you're sneaking out and coming back three days later at six in the morning?

"No ma'am. This is not how I run my household. You know that. I mean is it me? Did I do something to make you wanna push me away?"

Your throat aches as you choke back tears. "No, mom, it's not that at all. I just have to solve this on my own."

She looks heartbroken but nods nimbly. "But you'll come to me if you can't figure it out on your own?"

"I promise."

"Good," she stands up. "We're leaving in ten minutes so hurry up and get dressed. Oh yeah, and you're grounded."

You couldn't say you didn't see that coming.

When you get home from school, your mother's in the living room. She usually doesn't get off of work for another two hours but it wasn't that hard to think of the reason why she was home so early. She asks about school and you say whatever it takes to end the conversation as soon as possible so you can go to your room. You lock the door behind you when you're finally alone, changing into more comfortable clothes. You make sure your mom's still downstairs before you whisper Jisung's name and a warmth envelops your body from the tip of your tongue down to your toes. He appears before you in seconds, wearing his work uniform. He doesn't look at you at first, inspecting the interior of your room before making himself comfortable on your bed.

"Your mom didn't seem too happy about this morning," he sighs.

"How did you know that?" you ask and for some reason, you think, you might be better off not knowing.

"You and I are connected now. I can see you whenever I want. I can...feel you."

You gulp. You didn't like the thought of him checking up on you whenever he wanted. And what's worse is that if you ever tried to run, he could find you.

"Right...well I have a question."

"Oh, you're just full of those, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes. "If you go back to working for Satan...would he allow you to let me go?"

Jisung's face hardens. You could feel the warmth in the room grow.

"Why would you ask me that? Do you know what you'd be asking me to do?"

"I'm sorry," the words leave your mouth at lightning speed. It's odd. You didn't want to say them but you did.

"Am I really so awful you'd rather send me away to do the devils bidding than to be stuck with me?"

"No, not at all," you say this on your own this time. It should worry you how true it was. You truly didn't mind his company. It took some time to separate the man from your dreams to the one in reality but once you did, you saw the good in him—once you overlooked all the sarcasm, of course.

"Don't get offended, please. That's not what I'm trying to do here," you approach him. "I just want my life back."

There's a flicker of emotion in his eyes. He sighs. "I suppose, you're right. It's selfish of me to impose on your life when you didn't ask for any of this. I'll take my problems elsewhere and leave you be."

You're surprised at how quickly he gave you what you wanted. You expected to have to squeal your way out of it. It was so easy you almost felt bad for asking.

"There won't be any consequences? He won't get mad if you leave me alone?"

"I'm not sure what he'll do. Just as I can see you, he can see me," he pauses. "Whatever the outcome, I'll handle it."

He stands up and you stand up with him.

"Is it weird that I'm going to miss you?"

His eyebrows fly up and he almost looks embarrassed. "Uh, I'm sure that's just a side effect of being my slave."

"I see," you look down feeling awkward. "Can I get a hug?"

You can tell he's uncomfortable with the request but he opens his arms for you anyway. You hate how attached you've become in the last twelve hours. You hardly knew the man and after meeting his parents you shouldn't be standing anywhere near him. But you still felt a pull towards him and you weren't so sure if it was a side effect. Maybe you were crazy—actually, scratch that, you were definitely crazy—but you actually kind of liked Jisung. He protected you from his parents and was willing to take whatever the devil was going to throw at him. So you lay your head on his chest and the heat is already scorching your skin. The fast rhythm of his heartbeat almost rocks you as his hands wrap around your shoulders and you stand there for a moment. He was a little stiff but you could tell he was trying his best. When you let go, his face is different. He's smiling at you and there's this gleam in his eyes that you'd never seen before. Then there's something pulling you towards him, an unexplainable compulsion to kiss him. He doesn't move as you lean in to peck your lips on his warm ones. It's like his limbs are frozen and for the first time in his life, he doesn't know what to do. He's never encountered someone like you before. Someone so beautiful and smart. You were the only person that could ever make him feel anything other than complete misery and he was so sad to let you go. He didn't want to let you go and he didn't have to. You were his slave, after all. But you had asked him to and he couldn't find it in him to deny you. Finally, his instincts kick in and his eyes close as he kisses you back. It's the most intimate kiss you've ever had and you find your hands pulling his shirt to pull him closer to you, wanting more but suddenly he's gone. You look around your room to find it empty. He left. He left you. Just like you asked.

"Jisung?" your voice breaks as you call out. "Jisung??"

Your door bursts open causing you to flinch.

"Hey, what do you feel like for dinner?" your mom walks in. "Sweetie, what's wrong?"

You try to stop the tears from falling but you fail as you burst into sobs. Your mom runs over and hugs you, begging for you to tell her what's going on but you can't. You can't tell anyone. No one could ever know.

You think about Jisung every day for the next two years. How could you not? His face was branded into your mind, his voice a never-fading memory. You like to think he was okay. That whatever battles he had to face with his creator went successfully. You hoped he was free and happy. You imagine he watches over you from time to time, just to see how you've grown and what you were up to. For some time, he's everywhere you look. You'd see a flash of blonde and go running to catch him, no matter where you were. In the end, you never caught him. It was always your mind playing tricks on you. Your friends and family grew concerned but those concerns faded away as the spottings did. Every hot summer day reminded you of him. Even the heaters in the winter made you think of him. He was always in the back of your brain. After a while, it felt like it was all one big fever dream. The only reminder that it was real was the poorly written entries of your old diary. That, and one other thing. One day, you come home to find a necklace on your bed, the glowing red stone flaring up the memory of the matching one his mother wore. He was alive. He hadn't forgotten about you. The smile that adorned your lips was big enough to give one the impression it was a gift from your lover. You vowed to wear it every day, thanking Jisung aloud, and you swear you feel his presence in the room for a moment, a rush of heat flowing into your bedroom and then it's gone.

#Park Jisung #nct park jisung #park jisung fluff #nct dream #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #kpop fanfic #nct fanfic #demon au

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jjkpls · 5 years ago

Text

(y)our name - three (m)

> genre : smut, fluff, angst

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> total words : 9.6k of smut

> warnings/content : friends to lovers, unrequited love, slice of life; dirty talk, oral (f receiving), penetrative intercourse, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, soft kookie getting some!!! :’)

(good luck, personally, i died)

> previous

You’ve done it. It’s just a tiny little pressing of your lips that he hears more than feels. As his heart starts beating again, faster and harder than he ever thought possible, there's a second and a third kiss, planted right on the same spot, but this time, you hold them for longer and now there is no way he’s not feeling them. He’s feeling them so well he’s panicking, between euphoria and dementia not knowing where to lean. Embarrassingly, as soon as his heart senses them, his dick does too. It’s insane how quick you are to stir a reaction from his body when you’ve just barely pecked his fucking neck.

Jungkook backs away. Not abruptly but firmly, holding you still and away from him with his two large hands enveloping your forearms. You look disappointed, kind of hurt even if he focuses on the glint in your pretty eyes. It breaks his heart a little, makes him want to swoon and gives in to whatever you want, ready to give you his neck back to play with the way you hurry to stick a pacifier back in a crying baby’s mouth. However, he doesn’t give in because there’s no way he’s letting you feel his semi when he doesn’t even know what you meant.

“Sorry.” The tiny whisper is so weak, so bashful, it makes everything the harder for his brain to process.

“Don’t apologize.”

Deciding he had pondered enough and fuck it, he leans forward, pressing his hands on the counter, on either side of you, trapping you in and making you back slightly to still be able to meet his eyes. Your cheeks are reddening. He knows it comes from the proximity and surely from the stare he is giving you. He is not sure if it’s really a good idea to pin you down with this stare, dark eyebrows shadowing the most mesmerizing pair of eyes you've ever seen. Looking from under his black lashes, he looks predatory yet so inviting. He looks different. Again. Even more so than before. This Jungkook withholds a lot of things you know nothing about. An entire world of secrets and thoughts he's never shared with you but is willing to, right this moment. His pink lips, parted for his heavy breathing to flow, have never looked so endearing. The bottom lip so plump and slightly crooked, looking swollen like it's been beaten on already. And you feel light-headed. Like you might pass out. “___?” Your eyes rise to his, the realisation you've been staring sending another wave of incriminating blood to your face.

“Should I give you a birthday kiss?” You shrug.

You shrug. At this point, Jungkook is pretty sure he has the most of his answer. You can see him as a man. He sees the effect he has on you. He sees you squirm and shy away and flush. He doesn't think you're uncomfortable. You seem unsteady but not uncomfortable. Like you might be battling inside between what you want and what you deem appropriate, what you know and appreciate for its familiarity and those new territories you seem curious to indulge in. Still, Jungkook doesn't know how into it, how into him, you are. Maybe you can acknowledge him to be a whole handsome and attractive man yet not want to actually lay in bed with him.

He'll need more than this, he thinks. Leaning forward, he stops only when the tip of his nose touches yours, your breath audibly sticks in your throat, his own loud breathing giving you the impression of suffocating even more. His round nose nuzzles yours, bumping playfully against it, your blushing mess of a face extorting a grin from him. When he deems he messed around long enough, he leans further and presses a kiss on your cheek, right at the edge, where your lips meet, purposefully letting his mouth brush that place he's never been. “Happy early birthday.” He whispers, chuckling from his nose. He watches you frown with a comical raised eyebrow.

“Is that it?” Jungkook bursts into the dorkiest laugh of his. He could be regretting it as it couldn't match his sexy persona any less but you're smiling so endearingly at him, your hands clasping his upper arms in annoyance. “Why are you doing this? All night you- you keep teasing!” His heart is hitting his ribcage like a drum roll, dramatizing the suspense as if he needed it. He doesn't. He's sweating bullets of apprehension at this point.

“What do you mean? What am I supposed to give to you? You got your birthday kiss.” He adds, head tilting to the side, snarky smirk invading his whole face, not hiding the least the bliss he's having especially now that you're pouting. Your lips pushed in a ridiculously cute button, eyebrows lowered in discontent, you look beyond adorable.

“That one sucked.”

He bites back a smile. “Well, that's not really nice, is it?” He's not indecisive and precautionary anymore. He's definitely teasing. “Want another one?” You nod. Your eyes are focused on the roof, hands on your hips, looking like the most aggravated little spoiled brat to have ever existed. “Where?” Not giving yourself the time to mull over it, your pointer raises to your pout. His nose meets yours again. He mumbles, “You sure?” Watery, quivering eyes, that know and resemble each other meet.

When he presses his lips to yours for the first time, it's light, delicate. It's not much, far from what his teasing attitude from before hinted at but he just has to take his time. Soon your tiny hands are pulling at his leather jacket, and you're easing yourself against him in a way that feels hazardous. You're dragging him in, not with physical force but with something else. It's your heart calling for him. All there is for him to do is dive in. Headfirst.

He's never allowed himself to think too much about you in this predicament. To fantasize what you would be like, just because, it felt wrong to do so. But the very few times he did, he never imagined you to be so pliant, so soft you felt vulnerable in his hands and all his to have his way with.

The first swipe of his wet tongue over your lips makes you shudder yet you welcome him. You do so eagerly, so warmly, he does not doubt the fact that you want him, you want him to take over you and own you. And he wants to. He wants to make you feel at least a tenth of what he is feeling right now because if he manages to, it might be enough to earn himself the right to always have you like this.

His large hands leave your cheeks to slide along your body and set on the back of your thighs. He kneads at the flesh, groans when you moan into his mouth, swiftly hauls you up on top of the counter. It's more practical for the both of you.

You were struggling so hard to balance on your tiptoes to meet him, him getting annoyed at the pain in his neck distracting him from your senses. But as soon as you're up there, more comfortable, with your hands rummaging through his thick locks, he finds himself squeezing you so hard against him you're ass leaves the countertop to hover over it.

He's burning up in his fucking leather jacket. Wants to take it off so bad but you're not hinting at it. He's fine with kissing. Honestly. It's more action than he had with anyone in so long and in any case, making out with you feels better than anything he's ever experienced. More intense. More real. More meaningful. Feels universe rupturing. And orderly, as if it feels so good because it's meant to be that way. You're his person. He knows it. Has the confirmation at each nibble of your lips, each tiny giggles slipping because of how amused you are to witness his eagerness. It pulls at his heart. You're pulling at his heart. Clenching it in your warm goddess hands and he's loving it. So that's enough. He wouldn't mind more -the aching in his pants chastises him for wanting to demonstrate too much restraint- but if that is all he'll have, he's okay with it. He feels like you might misunderstand if he were to try and take his jacket off since you're not doing it. God, if you just slip the very tip of your fingers under his collar and over his shoulders, he'll rip the damn thing off and your dress along with it.

"Oh. My. God!" It's Eun. Again. She's staring, wide eyes, slacked jaw and hands raised in the air and not seeming ready to let them be. Jungkook almost curses at her when you push him away, rightfully so, to look at her with the most embarrassed and dumbfounded of expressions.

You exchange an extended look with your friend and roommate, one Jungkook interprets to say something along the lines of 'I know right what the fuck?!'. Follows the longest, most torturous minutes of his life. He's a dozen of centimetres away from your mouth, your saliva still coating his lips and your taste on his tongue and you're sitting right here, the perfect level for him, he just wants to lay you down and slip under the hem of your skirt. And your lip is bleeding a little where he's bitten accidentally when Eun startled him, it looks painful and he's dying to kiss it better. His eyes are burning from peering so intensely at you. His heart is aching to not be touching you.

"Yeah. Okay. I'll just- uh- sleepover next door! Alright! Bye!" Eun so eloquently whisper-yells before flying out the front door. Jungkook doesn't mean to be an ass. He's never been mean to anyone even in thought -except that one time he punched Namjoon, but honestly, this moment is simply a glitch in the matrix, doesn't count. But right this moment, when he's been granted your touch and your mouth and it's all been taken away from him and held hostage that close to him, it's becoming harder than ever to control the pure liquid rage swimming through his veins. He hates Eun, who he's always been fond of, for being such an obnoxious, confused idiot. Why would she keep coming in and out of this fucking apartment? He can already envision her coming back once more when she'll realize she has no fucking clothes, nor nothing to spend the night at his and Jimin's place. And he'll hate her even more then.

Because now that she's left, slammed the door shut behind her for the quiet place to only be disturbed by your heavy breathings and thunder-like heartbeats, the moment has been stolen. It's faded. He still wants you. He still would like more of the same treatments or something else, perhaps. But the moment is gone and he doesn't feel dizzy and hazy enough to just lock his lips back to yours and demand you silently to simply ignore what has just happened.

"I'm so embarrassed," You whine, hiding your burning face behind your hands. "I could die." Grabbing one of them to place a kiss on its back, he chuckles.

"There's no reason to be."

"There's no way she's not running to Jimin to tell him everything."

"Let's give them something to talk about, then." You eye him curiously. Eyebrows high and head tipped to the side.

"You- do you really...?"

Quite frankly, he said it in pure humour. Because that sounded like such a cliché and obvious thing to say. He didn't genuinely mean it. But here you are, observing him, interest and curiosity shinning in your eyes.

"I don't know, I'm just- Do you want to?" His voice sounds so minuscule, he thinks. He hates himself for it but then again, he is on the edge of fucking spontaneous combustion, therefore, sounding all hot and alpha-like is out the question. Until you answer that is. Then maybe he could breathe and relax and engage in what he likes with the confidence he knows himself to withhold somewhere. But you're still not answering, so he clarifies in a hardly more convincing murmur, "Sleep with me?"

"I- well- Do you?"

"Yeah.” He says before giving himself the time to think about it and the courage to wavers.

"I don't know why but me too, I think."

He's a boyish giggling mess now that he can breathe again. And you just grin watching him.

"I mean since you didn't even get me a birthday present-"

"___! Stop, I told you, I have it but it's not your birthday yet."

"Yeah sure." Jungkook's hands surge to your waist, threatening to tickle you but he knows you hate it so he settles for grabbing you, pinching kindly your sides instead. "Thank God tomorrow is the weekend, you'll have plenty of time to make up for your negligence."

"Keep that attitude up and I swear I won't give it to you on Monday." You roll your eyes for good measures. The tension is real. You're joking around but something is lurking. It's louder than your voices and chuckles, and it's also silent, dense, deafening quietness. Jungkook is fidgety, one leg shaking, questioning your eyes but not getting much of any answer.

"Why are you so nervous when you're the one who started it?"

"I'm never nervous." He says this with the widest grin. It's the most blatant lie ever, you both know it. To distract you Jungkook places a smack on the side of your chin, just below your lips, then rising his big eyes to scintillate right at you. Before he's even tempted to back away, your mouth falls upon him, locking with his and things just fall back into place. It's like Eun has never come to interrupt your moment. It's like it's the first time all over again, Jungkook realizes, as he is overwhelmed with so many emotions and sensations all at once. The same from before and new ones, now that he's grown so confident and so certain of how you feel. His hands can slip under your skirt and caress the expense of your thighs and ass, they can drag you up and down his front, make you grind on him shamelessly. You, finally, deem it's time for his stupidly hot jacket to go and now it's so much easier for you to wrap your legs around him, and he doesn't know if it's just a product of his fervent imagination, but he feels your crotch is scorching his.

"Shit. Let's head to your room, yeah?"

Your lips on his thick neck answer him. It makes him stagger. You see, Jungkook is strong. That's an euphemism. When asked or even provoked, he would always bring back that time he had to carry two grown-ass men -his roommate and a friend from his old school-, one on each shoulder, because they were too fucking wasted to place a foot in front of the other. He did that. Hardly broke a sweat, by the way. But here he is struggling to walk straight because of the way you're giving his skin so much love and attention, making him feel like you're craving to swallow him whole. Maybe it's a bit late after the heavy make-out session, what you said and more than anything else, the wet patch your centre has left on his jeans, but he's baffled at the idea that you'd want him this bad. Too baffled, he's fucking hallucinating. He's dying. Of love. Or maybe just hyperthermia.

"Wait."

"Guk-" You whine as you feel him lowering you down to your bedroom floor. You whine with so much greediness. He realizes he doesn't know if he'll survive the night.

Pecking your mouth quickly -because it's become natural now apparently- he pleads, "Just a sec." before removing his t-shirt who's become undeniably uncomfortable.

"Wow." It's just a whisper, hidden under a sharp intake of air, Jungkook almost misses it. Your expression is telling everything he needs to know. You're gazing at him, incredulous, cheeks flushed in a pleasing pink. He wonders what his own cheeks look like. You like what you see? He'd ask if he was not so into your amazement. He doesn't want to break that intensity in your gaze just to tease you. He's never had you look at him like that. "I didn't know you were that ripped..." He shrugs to avoid saying something stupid like Yeah but your ex was way buffier and like a whole head taller than me. "You're- like- really handsome, Jungkook." He holds a hand out for you to catch and come closer as his eyes don't dare even blink to not miss how pretty you look, staring at him with those eyes. Fucking finally.

"You're beautiful. I meant to say it all night but I'm stupid so I didn't." You give a chortle. Light but short as you are too eager to resume to your previous activity. You keep contemplating him, fingers brushing ever so slightly like you're drawing the lines of the most precious and fragile piece of art, lips shaped in a silent gasp. Jungkook, watching you, trying to ignore the shudder his skin is assaulted by, thinks you look like you've never seen a man like him. Shaped like him. Handsome like him. And he feels incredibly abashed. He's loving it but it might just be too much. He's the one who can get stunned over your every feature and feel like shedding some tears over how airy and ethereal your skin tends to look when the Sun is aiming just right at you.

Deciding he's had enough, for now, Jungkook bends over, grabbing you by your thighs to carry you once again, while you're scoffing indignantly. He's just about to drop you on the bed when you stop pressing kisses to his shoulders to tap furiously on it instead.

"Wait, wait, wait! The light!" His eyes follow your finger pointing at the switch next to the door and he groans as he walks backwards for your foot to reach and turn it off. In the process, you also kick the door shut and he's thankful for you not having a head as airy as his. Here, if Eun decides to come to bother you again, well, she could but she'll have an obstacle slowing her down.

"Why can't we keep it on?" He snivels through ridiculously pursed lips, not even trying to hide his disappointment.

"Because I don't have sex with the lights on." You say it with a particular emphasis, aiming to make him feel like he's the crazy one. Suddenly, a rush of deep aggravation pervades him. He hates every single man who has slept with you. Not because they did, but because while they did, they were not fucking able to make you feel sexy and confident and beautiful in every way possible, enough for you to want to always keep the lights on. He can understand how you feel, he's been with girls who had a tough time in the beginning. He did his first times. But now, Jungkook likes to have it all. He's not one to give himself much restraint when it comes to sex. He's all about exploring, and sharing, and giving and spoiling each other. He needs to have it all. All of his senses stimulated. Have a full fucking five senses experience with his partners. And tonight, you are his partner and he wishes he could see you -better than through the lame shadowy orange lighting the street lamps are bathing the room in. He wishes he'd have more time to spend with you. More time to worship you, from head to toes, and teach you to love your body and own it. Whatever those other guys have done was wrong if they neglected to make you feel this way. He wants to make love to you and then have you walk around the house naked to have him look and stare at your glorious form while he'd be munching on his midnight ramyeon break. Maybe he'll have more time. He's not sure. He doesn't want to think about it for now.

Instead of laying you down on the bed, Jungkook decides to sit, keeping you on his lap. It’s all the better like this. All close and personal. When your eyes don’t shut under the pleasure raising from the assaults of his mouth, they have nowhere else to look at but him. You’re so snug, your heat, your smell, the inside of your thighs sticking to his waist.

“Can I?” You nod your assent and he’s quick to throw your dress and bra to the floor, covering your skin instantly with his hands. Your skin is scorching hot, soft and so real, and this he can hardly believe. He’s touching you like that. His mouth is peppering kisses along your neck, your tender breasts resting in the palm of his hands and you’re leaning into his touch, head thrown back and chest pushing forward. “Fuck, ___.” If his hands were not so busy, he would use one to slap himself across the head for delivering the worst fucking compliment in the history of humanity. “I want you so bad.” That’s better. You hum in response. Something not quite loud and heartfelt enough for his liking.

Bending over as much as he can, he replaces his hands with his mouth. Licking and sucking your chest, from your collarbone to your underboobs, he doesn’t miss a spot, coating you in saliva, suckling on your nipples and rolling them under his tongue, under his thumbs, he’s having a feast on you and stealing all air from your lunges. When his big hands grab your waist to have your centre rub harshly against him, you moan out loud. The first real moan he’s heard tonight. It sends a shiver down his spine that dies down only once it’s reached the very tip of his cock. “You like my mouth?” A nod. He smiles briefly. Why does he feel you so attentive to his every word, so eager to answer yet you won’t stop acting all shy? He is the shy one, not you. Still, there is no way he’s letting that coming in between you. There’s no point in being embarrassed when it’s only the two of you. “Are you wet for me?” He keeps mumbling against your skin, teeth showing for a split second to tease an abused nipple. Another nod and a whimper this time. “Show me.” He demands softly. He catches the confusion in your expression, the darkening of your cheeks. Jungkook smirks as he picks you up, lifts you to set you back down on only one of his hard thighs and then lays back on his hands, watching you -the light hits precisely right, and he gets more than just your silhouette, now able to decipher the details of your breasts, your darker nipples standing out- with so much assurance and cockiness radiating from him, you writhe. “Ride my thigh.” You eye him attentively as you place your hands on his chest, hardly moving your hips.

“I’ve never done that before...”

“Even with Namjoon? But his thighs...” A curious expression falls over your face. “I mean- I shouldn’t- Why am I talking about your ex right now? Shit, I’m-“

“It’s fine. Well, no, it is weird. Especially since you’re admitting checking him out...?”

“I didn’t- I just- I-“ He’s turned back to the little boy, the stutter and lisp mess, and it feels horrible. Even with you almost naked sitting on his thigh. Why is he such a fucking idiot?

Laughing you sing-song, “Aaanyway.” He’s red in the face, wants to die, but you kiss his cheek between two giggles and he feels a new man. Or not an entirely new one. Just a slightly less cocky version of the lover he was previously. “Point is: I’ve never done this.” You say again, shyness so loud he can hardly hear your tiny mouse squeak of a voice.

“Just do what feels good.” He brings a hand back to your hip, intimating you a shallow movement to follow. When he sees you diligently keeping the movement, he relaxes back, smiling. “Get yourself off.”

“And you?”

“Seeing you use me for your pleasure gets me off.” There’s a sharp inhale of air. Jungkook catches how your lips open in a silent cry. He wonders what turns you on. Is it his words, the hardness of his thigh snugged right under you or maybe his voice? “Yeah, just like that.” He praises, heart filling with pride at witnessing how you’re letting yourself go, moaning and swerving your hips, your fingers digging in his chest -fuck, he wishes you were not a barista, required to keep your nails the shortest so he could feel them scratch and tattoo his skin with pretty figures he could look on later. “You’re soaking my thigh so well, baby, I can feel it through my jeans.” Your speed increases, your hands now on his shoulders to help you ride him better. Your fingers dip in and he loves it, the feeling of being the sturdy form you depend on, and the fuck toy for you to hump on. “You really like that, right? Rutting on my leg like you’re so fucking desperate to come.” Jungkook rises, his arms wrapping around you and his mouth, after finding your gaping lips for a wet smack, finds your jaw. “Fuck. I can feel you, I can smell you-”

“Oh my God-” Your eyelids shut tight, you bite hard on your lip.

“I wanna taste you, ___. Would you like that?”

“I-” He smiles deviously.

“You, rubbing your desperate little cunt all over my face, would you like that?”

“Yes!” Jungkook doesn’t waste a second, lying on his back, his brightest bunny smile reflecting in the dim light, inviting you to take your designated seat. But you deflate instantly. Losing complete track of your previous activity, you sober up from the feverish excitement. “Wait- no, Jungkook. Not happening.”

“What? What’s not happening?”

“You’re not eating me out!” Jungkook is so fucking lost, puzzled beyond comprehension, his huge eyes bigger than ever as they reflect the confusion.

“Why not? You said you wanted to like five seconds ago!”

“I thought- you were just saying that.”

“Well, yeah, no... I want to.”

“Well, that’s not happening so let’s just move on.” You conclude before resuming to riding him but his hands are quick to immobilize you. Frowning in displeasure, you let yourself fall on the bed beside him.

“You’re so mean!” You scoff out loud. He’s biting back a smile. It does sound like you two are ten again, arguing about some stupid shits your memories would never bother try and hold. Still, he’s upset. You won’t let him keep the lights on. You won’t let him eat you out. Jungkook has been feeling so comfortable in that lover suit you let him put on -suit that fits him so fucking well he has to admit- he allows to indulge in greediness and pettiness. “It’s the worst night of my life.” He adds, and you can hear him pout.

Laughing aloud, you groan, “Oh my God, you’re such a baby!” One of your hand is reaching to drag him towards you. He moves because he decides to, hovering over you, with that damn pout glued to his mouth. “Don’t you think we could be doing better things than argue about this?”

“But I really want to...” He is fully aware he is whining like a child now but he feels like one. Thinking about how this might be the one and only time he gets to spend time in a bed, with you lying naked and vulnerable and open for him to worship and enjoy, and you won't let him taste you, it makes him want to throw the loudest tantrum.

“Come on, Guk!” You chastise. He's burying his disappointement in the crook of your neck, when you ask, “What is it? Are you scared you're not gonna make me cum if you don't prep me with-”

Jungkook's head snaps up. Pushing on his arms to hover over your tantalizing grin, he bores his supposedly dark eyes into your amused gaze, the tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek exposing how triggered he just got. You laugh at that and he brings a hand down to pinch your thigh.

“You're really pushing my buttons, you know...” All giggly, you press a quick kiss to his lips. He can't do anything else but lean in to have another one. And that's so unfair. Because despite you're being so mean, he can't resist you for a second. While the tip of your tongue starts teasing his, your fingers brush along his covered-shaft. Swiftly, he swats them away, “I can't eat you out, you don't get to touch my cock.”

“Dude, are you serious?” You gasp in mid-choke, mid-hilarity. You can't believe he'd be that ridiculous. “Isn't that blackmailing?”

“First of all, it's called justice.” You roll your eyes. He kisses your jaw and they soften down. That's something he'll have to think back on later. How natural and nice it feels to be lying in bed with you, members all entangled, skin sticking to one another, casually talking while your thumbs mindlessly stroke his arms and his lips keep loving your skin. “Second, don't call me dude.”

He stops the scattering of innocent pecks when you ask, simply, “What should I call you?”

You're asking the question. You're literally asking. He's not sure why, maybe it's just more messing around or maybe you sincerely mean to comply in his fantasy, without even suspecting how wide and pressing and real his fantasies about you have been dwelling in his mind and heart for years now. It's the occasion. He'd be foolish to pass it, he thinks. “Baby.” As soon as the word comes out, he realizes how fucking stupid he sounds and wishes to take it back already. He follows right away with a mess of a stutter, “I mean- I don't- forget it, sorry. I don't know why I said that.” Jungkook groans, trying to hide his burning face in the pillow. He can't believe he said that. He can't believe he actually said that...Ok, he thought you were getting a bit off track but didn't mind because you two were hitting it off as you used to, in a different context and setting, sure, but still, the affinity was there, the complicity and the unadulterated ease too. But now, it's going terribly wrong. Has he drowned any sanity cells he owned with the two beers he chugged? Really? How could he fucking say that?

“Why are you like this?” You're cackling over him, a hand pressed to his shoulder blade, trying to smooth him into turning around and facing you. To no avail. “Why is that so embarrassing? I don't mind it.” There is no response coming from him, sweet kisses and pressing taps on his back simply ignored. He's trying to hold his breath long enough to die but his survival instinct keeps kicking in just when his head starts getting super dizzy and it brings him back to this fucking awful moment. “Did I mention this? Your butt looks fucking phenomenal!” He groans in emotional pain. He doesn't know if you mean it or you're just trying to make him feel better. “Baby?” Argh. Because, in fact, he's been told he lacked in that department. Then again, when that happened, he was standing next to Jimin, the ballet dancer. Surely, you're mocking. His ego keeps bleeding profusely and he still won't die, it's the worst-

“Alright, I let you go down on me if you stop sulking.” It works instantly. Jungkook rises back from the depth of your fluffy pillows. His face to the tip of his ears is still crimson, but he peeks in interest.

“Forget it.” He exhales the most melancholic, most heart-wrenching sigh you've ever heard. It makes you roll your eyes. “You don't want to, m'not gonna pressure you...” You regard him carefully, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. His lips, parted around his adorable bunny teeth, look so endearing. Inviting in colour and appealingly plump for the cute hanging bottom one. The glimpse of the pink tongue swiping over it grasp and pull unforgivingly on one of your internal strings. One attached directly to your core, apparently.

“It's not that I don't want to. It's just too embarrassing, seriously.”

“What is there to be embarrassed about? It's just me.” You tense your neck to connect your lips with his. He follows along when you lie back before mumbling on your mouth, “You want me to?”

“Yes.”

Jungkook can hardly hide how happy he is as he kisses you messily, his palm clapping loudly on your thigh from excitement. Sitting in between your legs, holding them up, he observes you, smiling to himself when he realizes your head is placed perfectly on the pillows, right where the closest street lamp hits. He can see you perfectly and take advantage of the opportuniy, as he spreads kisses along your inner thighs, eyes never leaving your face. He welcomes and appreciates the cute dimming of your cheeks because he knows after he’s done devouring you the way he will, it probably won’t be showing again. Not from shame anyway.

He is planning on ruining you. He might feel guilty about it later but at this present moment, it's clear to him what he wants to do. He wants to wreck you so you never get over him.

It's not that ill, he knows he'd be right for you. He's made for you. He doesn't know if you were made for him or for another man you've met already or don't even know yet -or even for that fucking Namjoon- but he knows he's made to love you and only you. He doesn't even want to be cured from this infatuation anymore. The sorrow, the frustration, the loneliness, all these emotions don't burden him because they come from him loving the wonderful woman that you are so dearly so. They're wondrous, they're confirmation of how bad he loves you. There's nothing purer, more genuine, more worth it than his love for you. Maybe it's stupid but his heart, he wants it to feel as intensely for you and no one else ever.

And that's with this hanging in the back of his mind, that he proceeds to put all his efforts into pleasing you. From the air he breathes against your centre, recovered in the arousal you spread over yourself when you rode his thigh, the tentative kiss to your clit, to the messy open-mouthed kisses. He keeps it in mind. He has to give it his whole. He has to make you tremble and beg for more. When he forces his face in your crotch, round nose bumping and rubbing your clit, tongue fucking into you, he feels your legs, spasming around his head and jerking, and a loud, broken cry breaks the partial quietness of the room. It drives him crazy to hear you like that. So appreciative of his ministrations, giving yourself entirely to him, abandoning progressively all your modesty and timidity. Jungkook is slurping obscenely as he slides over your centre to find his mouth wrapped around your button of nerves. You're an indecent mess, grinding uncontrollably against his face, as he can't help himself from rutting his hips against the mattress. He's quick to slip two fingers in because one is just not enough when you're that sloppy and craving and your walls hug them so tightly, so mercilessly, it's like they're dying to meet and feel every single edges of his long fingers, as if they constantly need to feel the burning stretch of his pumpings.

When you come around his fingers, your clit nicely tucked in between his loving lips, he feels himself twitch in his pants and sweat rolling down the back of his neck. How the fuck will he survive having you coming on his dick when you get so fucking tight? He's hoping he'll do it, there's no doubt about that. Nevertheless, he feels himself suffocating already.

“Oh- my God. Jungkook.” You're so out-of-breath, voice shivering and high. Adorable.

He's off of the bed, fumbling with his pants to get them off as the straining on his cock just proved unbearable when he's that hard, hurriedly whispering back, “I know.” and that's so funny how he doesn't even try to be cocky yet he could. He doesn't know that much about your sex life and sexual history -because you stopped telling him everything about it when you turned seventeen and you've found girls to talk about it with. He doesn't know if this kind of orgasms is a recurrence or even, vaguely familiar, but the quivering of your body, the feverish feel that remains even after he's back on the bed, pushes him to believe it might not be the case. He's proud. Probably will use it later to taunt you. But for now, the eagerness to show you more smothers the cockiness in.

“Wait- what are you doing?” You try to skip away when you feel his breath fanning over your crotch again and Jungkook's had just about enough.

Grabbing your thighs to keep you in place, he low-key growls, “You need to fucking stop questioning everything, ___. Haven't I proved you yet that I know what I'm doing?”

You frown. “You're rude.”

“Trust me.” He pecks a few times your clit. The oversensitivity is palpable, the way you twitch and yelp, uncomfortably. “I know what I'm doing.” Now wrapping his whole mouth over your mound, stroking a fat tongue all over you in a slow pressure, he feels your legs relax in his grasp. He knows a teasing, skiming shadow of a touch would be hard to handle, very very mean for him to torture you with on your first night together.

Jungkook's practised oversensitivity and hyperstimulation long and hard. On himself and his partners. He wouldn't hesitate usually but he knows how difficult it can be, therefore, he won't be mean. The boldness and the force and the decisiveness of his touch make it bearable. You're quick to open your legs wider the way you did before, welcoming him in, begging him to make you come again. Pushing your thighs towards your chest, he enjoins you to hold them still if you want him to give it to you. And the vision kills him. He regrets there is no proper lightening for him to witness the scarlet of your abused cunt but at least, he can see the wetness.

It's everywhere. On your thighs, dripping to your asshole, there's even a fucking puddle on the bedsheet. And Jungkook thinks, no matter how much you seem to enjoy it, how much your body seems to relish it, he's not doing enough of a good job if he's managed to let so much of it slip out of his mouth. Attaching his lips back, sucking at your folds like an eager demon trying to suck up your soul out of you, he consumes you and drinks every single drop gushing out of your cunt.

“I need you to- cum for me. All over my face, baby, come on.” He mutters against you, addressing himself more than you since there's no way you can hear him over your erratic breathing and heartbeats, not when his face is buried that deep into you. He sucks on his thumb before pressing it hard to your clit, tensed tongue fucking your hole. He rubs hard, unmercifully, smiling in your folds when he feels you losing it. You don't know what to do with yourself. With your body and the sensations, seeming to grand for you to contain. Your hips ride his face then stop then twitch and want to ride again, trying to get more but wanting to trust that remaining still allows his touch to be more precise and therefore the more delectable. Your legs jerk in the air, trying to keep the position he's imposed you but also desperately wanting to reach that state of ultimate excitation you brush each time, legs wide open, you feel so much more exposed and obscene, sluttier than you've ever felt. Then, after an eternity of common effort against a stubborn knot, you burst in a blinding orgasm even more blazing than the last, so powerful and earthshaking, even Jungkook seems to experience it as he moans lowly, drinking the remnants of your orgasm rolling along his tongue.

And he might be an actual demon trying to suck your soul out of you: when you're lying there, completely limp and head so fucking hazy, unable to create any thought, coherent or not, just his name and his smile and his big eyes occupying your mind, you wonder if that's not precisely what he is and what he's done to you.

You're not the only one left shaken to the core. Jungkook, breathing laboured and soaked from sweat and your juices, struggles to keep his sanity. He's feeling woozy, with the world swaying dangerously, his ears ringing with the ghosts of your loud moans and cries from before. He thinks he might actually pass out from how overwhelmed he feels. There's all that's happened until now, and what there's to come. And it might be too much.

You're playing grabby hands. Short nails brushing at the smooth skin over his abs that are constricting and tightening as he breathes. You look lovely like that, he wishes he could just give in and offer you his whole but he's at the edge. He really is and has the sense that if he doesn't pass out, he still might come on the spot if he just doesn't take a step back from your warmth for just a second. And it's hard. He sees your struggle, your frustration in the cute scowl adorning your face, he feels the same. It seems scandalous to stop when it feels so right but he is literally about to bust a nut just catching the shadow of your breast, covered by a shiny layer from how much he made you sweat. “Wait a sec- just a second, ___.”

“You okay? Are the drinks just kicking in?” You're the one intoxicating him, rendering him dizzy and delirious. The way you make his heart beats so furiously freaks him out. It's nothing new but he's scared the crazy ride might be too much for him to handle this time.

You bring Jungkook back by the brush of your fingers over his shaft. He falls over you, holding himself up by the trembling arms caging your head. You're so tender with him when you paint his skin from his forearm to his collarbone with kisses. You're so gentle. And he's so in love with you.

“I really wanna be inside you.” Jungkook confesses when he feels you pressing his sex against your burning lips.

“But I want to taste you too.”

“___, can't you feel me?” He asks, delivering the answer as he goes. “I'm so hard. Please, let me.”

It's his voice, familiar yet smoother than it's ever been, that makes you nod your head. Jungkook kisses you deeply, long enough to fill his heart with this new addicting ardour, until his cock -and the growing discomfort soon to turn painful- screams him to stop and fuck you already.

He leans back on his knees, watching as you twist around to open the drawer of your nightstand and blindly grab a silver packet that you then hand him. Your fingers tremble when you do so. Jungkook holds them to his mouth to press a comforting peck there.

When his knuckle slips along your centre, digging between your folds, he grins to himself, feeling how soaked you are. His covered tip teases, rubs your clit lightly, while your legs unfold invitingly to rest on his thighs.

“Are you ready?” He asks, voice quiet and tense. You're so quick to assert your want before he even gets to finish his question, he deems you both have waited long enough and deserve the ecstatic-filled glorious sensation that erupts as he slips the first centimetres of his girth inside you. It's slippery as he starts, having to hold his member upright for it to simply dig in, until he pushes further, filling you up with as much as he possibly can, and then for him, it's just an hardly surmountable encasement of heat and tightness. It feels so good, so wonderful, like that feeling. The one people spend their lives seeking for without really, ever being able to find because it's so flimsy, so unrealistic, too perfect to be true. Except it's happening. Young Junkook, the one that used to read too many shojo mangas, is losing his shit, somewhere not so far up in his head, screaming in hysterics about how he's found his soulmate. This is it. He wants this moment, this feeling to last for infinity. It's divine beyond anything he could have pictured.

“Move!” You grumble between your teeth, the eternity he's spent just standing still, proving to be unendurable. It breaks him from his stupor. Diligently, he starts thrusting, in and out. His movements are not as rough nor as intense or calculated as they should be, according to his standards. He's just consumed. He doesn't want to give you a reason to call him a softie and quite frankly, that would fuck up the whole mood if he were to let himself be, but he could cry right now. Maybe his dick is also a bit on the sensitive side, and it doesn't help, added to his heart, that is bathing in an euphoria he's never experienced before. He's brushed happiness before, recalling on some memories of your shared childhood. He's pretty sure he's touched and held it momentarily, not necessarily having, on the moment, the realisation but it still happened. But here and now, he's grasping it with the same hold his hands own on your thighs, he's immersing in it as his cock slides in and out of your sex, and he's so mindful of it too. He's fucking mindblown and soul shattered. And he wants more. Grabbing your hands clenching the sheets on your sides, he yanks you up on his lap, pressing his mouth to yours in a heated kiss.

“Fuck. Ride me.” He sounds desperate as he laps his tongue in your mouth, large hands spread over your hips and ass, bruising fingers dipping in the flesh.

“You're really demanding.” You're being difficult again and he's tempted to bite back by bringing up -what he is now sure to be- the hella-boring sex life you shared with your past partners. Because this shit is nothing. And each time he's trying to do something, there's this remnant of innocence and embarrassment, this little lag and awkwardness in your movements coming from lack of experience. He loves it in a way. If he's the first one to push you further, in uncommon and scary territories, especially when the results always end up blooming in the most pleasing sounds and mesmerizing gesticulations. But when he's this tense, and hard, hopelessly in need of a phenomenal orgasm, he just won't find in himself to tease, argue or anything else.

To be fair, the position is a bit awkward. Him sitting back on his knees, holding you up there, specially if you're not used to riding a man, he can understand. He's not ready to give up on the idea though.

“I just need you to give me your all.” His grip on your ass tighten and patiently he helps you ride him. You're quick to get the catch. Following his hands but emphasizing the motion, sliding along his shaft until he's almost completely out to then come back and hit your pelvis against his hard abs. It's better like so, he gets to ravish your mouth, swallow your moans and whimpers, share the same breath as yours, feel not only your tender breast but your heartbeat, knocking on his. “Wanna come?” He asks even though he knows, so well, when your hold on his cock is spasming uncontrollably. Your movements are so frantic too, uncoordinated. You're spilling everywhere, he can feel you drip down his thighs, and he can hear it. You nod with his thumb in your mouth, eyes closing when he brings it down to your clit. “M-me too. Eyes on me when- fuck- when you come.” He's keeping you close, accompanying your hips as you fuck yourself on him, fingers tangled in his thick soft locks, bringing yourself to your orgasm with little to no shame left in you. You cry out his name, along with a plethora of fuck me, staring straight in his huge dark eyes, not fluttering your gaze just like he asked. The addition of this contact, so intimate yet sinful, along with the clutch, unforgiving, of your cunt around him, brings Jungkook there a blink of an instant after you. He meets your hips, stuttering upwards, groaning your name, savouring with a lazy smile on his smile, the extent of the ball of light and heat exploding inside, annihilating any sense of reality and environment for a little while.

When he lands back down to Earth, to your bed, to your sex, your soft hands holding his head, he sighs deeply and proceeds to lay you down on your back, cautiously. Your ragged breaths try to match, to deepen and calm down. Lazy kisses are shared, anywhere your lips can touch without having much effort to do. The tension has almost been washed away in your wetness. He knows if he's patient enough, it'll just go away -the obnoxious boner that struggles to soften. But there's the greediness for more, always more, because he just can't stop already. He just can't accept that it is over for now. Temptingly, Jungkook starts thrusting again, wrapping his arms around you, keeping you flush against him. It feels insufferable. It's too hot, too sweaty, you could fall asleep if you just dared close your eyes for a second too long. “Didn't you just come?” You mewl into his hair.

Chuckling, he whispers, “M'still hard.” He sees how you flinch, wincing, sucking on your breaths but there's also your small hands pressing against his lower back. You're so hot, so tight sucking him in, you sound so sweet yet obscene in his ear, he wouldn't even need to go strong to come again at this point. When the last orgasm is still so close, hasn't entirely left his body yet, he knows it'll be so easy to just fall back in. But he wants you to come with him.

“There's no way I'm coming again, Guk.” You just say that matter-of-factly.

“You will.” Resolute and assured. Tone as decisive as his pounding. Hard and fast, the squelching so loud, it hits the walls of the room and bounces back to your ears, making you blush furiously through your already red face. “Is this the best fuck you've ever had?” Jungkook groans in your ear. He digs further in your neck, tongue licking broadly your sweat. He could be embarrassed but there's no point when you've indulged into each other the way you've done tonight. He's finally fucking into you mercilessly, being as gross and sloppy as he likes to be.

“Shit- yes!”

“Then you gonna come for me,” His hips hit brutally and freeze for an instant to appreciate the head of his cock touching a new edge in you. “for the best man you'll ever have.” You're sobbing when he starts beating your cunt again.

“Oh my God, Jungkook!” He can barely understand you. His brain is fucking off and your words are so slurred. Doesn't care that much right this instant anyway. When he knows he's taking you both there again, and can't afford to slacken. “Show your man how good he is to you.” It's all you both need, particularly helped on his side by your reaction, so supine to his words and his touch. The knot unties finally. It's way less violent as the other ones. It's like dipping slowly in a fuzzy, soft bath filled with pure languid pleasure.

And it feels so nice, so pleasant and profound. Your arms and legs still wrapped around his body. Your exhalings slow in his ear. When he finds the courage to move, he rolls to the side, enough to let your breath but still impossibly close. You two are wet, slippery, way too sultry, it would be uncomfortable if his heart didn't feel so good.

“Should I run you a bath?” He asks. Fingers brushing away the messy hair stuck to your face.

“I'd pass out and drown.”

He chuckles, a malicious ring to his laugh. He's enchanted to be the one who's wrecked you that bad. “You sound bitter.”

You're so tired, you can hardly open your mouth. “You ruined me, Guk. 'Was amazing.”

“Yeah, even better than anything I'd imagined.” Jungkook confesses, lips smiling softly into your shoulder.

“Wait, what- what do you mean?” The confidence he felt filled with wavers. You backed away from him. Not drastically, really, just enough to be able to look at his face, but it still stings.

“Well... I've thought about you. You- you haven't...?”

“No... I mean I might from now on but-”

He relaxes at your answer, releasing a tired grin. “When you do, you know where to find me.”

“You'd do it again?” Jungkook's insides to the tip of his fingers tingle in the most disagreeable way. You sound so shocked. Almost disturbed by the idea. “I don't know, it's weird, don't you think? We're friends.” He doesn't mean to be obvious about it. He wants to be as discreet and nonchalant about his feelings as he's always managed to be since he's realized they had changed from the purely platonic ones he used to have to the passionate romantic ones he arbours now. But it hurts so bad, after having shared what you shared, after having felt you the way he did, and been so wrong and delusional about how you've felt during your embrace. How could you have accepted his words so carelessly? The things he said, he meant them. He believed them. He believed you heard and fathomed them.

His hold faints around you. He disengages one of his arms, leaving the one stuck under you there, but rolling on his back to put some much-needed distance between you. And because you're so dumb, you pick up on it but completely misinterpret his reaction. “I mean you're my one and only best friend. You know it, Guk...” He doesn't know what to say. There's nothing to be said except if he doesn't mind fucking it all up with the words his martyr of a heart wants to scream at you.

You're dowsing off. “We can't do it again, that's just wrong. It'll fuck it all up.” One of your hand is messily going through his fringe, almost poking him in the eye. “Hair's grown so much in 3 weeks, whatthehell..?” Indeed his hair has grown. You probably didn't notice previously because he spent his time passing his hand through it, and parting it away from his forehead but his now wet strands are falling into his eyes and he doesn't bother to get them off, hoping it will hide any telling sign of his troubled soul. You're so tired anyway. And it's so dark. There's no way his heart will be opened and exposed for you to read unless he says something.

He doesn't though.

He waits, not very long, for you to give in the calls of Morphe and start snoring softly, gathering this time he really missed his chance.

a/n: OMG. I’m SORRY. So this concludes (y)our name. I would LOVE to know your thoughts. Tell me everything. Scream at me if you want, I don’t mind, I probably deserve it haha. I really hope you enjoyed and I want to thank you immensely for reading, liking, commenting, and reblogging. Y’all have been so sweet, and there’s a whole bunch of new yous here, that really warms my heart so ty ty ty, ily ily ily.

tag list: @lovelyjkook @somewhereinthestarss @whisheria @ghostin-manoban @oofjungoo @jikooxk @annoyingpessimist @darksiidee @yeontanie21 @vari8tions @moansofluke @perhapsstory @emilypkuzu @unhxlyim @aretha170 @the-suns-daughter @bts-fan-obsessed @batakookie @jung00jeon

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#jungkook smut #bts smut #btssmutclub #btswriterscollective #ggukienet #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader #my writing

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notbecauseofvictories · 6 years ago

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Anyone from Leverage or one of your ocs, I love your writing

There is, quite unfortunately, a universe where it’s not Nate Ford who loses a child and goes a little insane in the process. It doesn’t turn out so bad for Nate Ford, of course, but. Well, he’d have a different opinion if you asked him directly.

Somewhere else, though, there’s a universe where it’s James Sterling who—

He doesn’t even have the ugly, cold comfort of watching Olivia die under a doctor’s paddles, intubated and trached and code blue or whatever other E.R.-level medical jargon you want to throw around. Instead, he gets an email to his work phone. TO: [email protected], FROM: [email protected]—your daughter is dead. Sorry.

It’s the “sorry” that gets to him.

“Excuse me,” he murmurs, and pretends to take a call in his office for the next hour because the alternative is letting the whole department watch him cry silently into his hands, and he’ll never be promoted that way. They’ll never let him know, for instance, what Robert Livingston has insured, for how much, and how to take it away from him.

Afterwards, Nate asks if everything is all right. They have a new case, Victor Dubenich, but if James isn’t feeling up to it—“No,” James says. “No, don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

As a side note: it’s unfortunate how many criminal profiles IYS has access to, via its data-sharing agreements with the FBI, the CIA, Interpol, DID, DRM, BND, CBI, and other intelligence-sharing bodies. Especially since IYS is a private corporation. Someone ought to look into that, it could be a very serious breach of privacy. Or the fifth amendment. Something.

James is not feeling particularly apologetic about it when he goes to meet with Sophie Devereaux, aka—”Darling,” she says, smirking. “Very bad manners to kiss and tell like that.”

She does hear him out though, twirling a swizzle stick between her fingers like she needs something to play with, instead of stealing James’ wallet. (He’s grateful, he has his last picture of Olivia in there.)

“You’re asking for a lot,” she says. “And I’m not sure I’m the person to put it together for you.” “I think you’re the only one who can,” James says. “I’ve read Nate’s files, I know—” he doesn’t miss the hurt-longing-grief that flashes through her eyes at Nathan Ford’s name, but he knows that feeling. You can ignore it, bury it deep, and never let it surface. (Not even when he’s close enough to touch.) “I want to make this fucker pay.”

“It’s a steep price,” Sophie says, and James shakes his head. “That’s not an object, Ms. Devereaux.”

Eventually—three weeks later, when he’d begun to despair she’d ever show up, and he’d written the down payment off as a loss—she’s there at the end of the bar in his favorite pub, flanked by a broad, tall man with long hair, a handsome black man, and a girl with a twitchy look. James takes the barstool beside her. “Is this them?” he asks, and the black man laughs.

He knows their names, it turns out: Alec Hardison, Parker, Eliot Spencer. “I ought to give you control over my stock portfolio next,” James says, and Sophie quirks a smile at him. Even Alec Hardison looks amused at that one.

“So?” Eliot grunts. “What’s next?”

Smashcut, newspaper headline: BILLIONAIRE HEIRESS IMPLICATED IN DOUBLE-CROSS INSURANCE FRAUD.

At work, Nate claps James on the shoulder. “Sterling, look! Didn’t I tell you she was a fake?” he asks, delighted. Maggie is expecting their second. “You did,” James says, and smiles as much as he dares.

It’s sort of amazing how easy it is, to feed information to Sophie, to feign confusion and shock the next morning when whatever they’ve stolen or conned or lied for disappears, is revealed, is discovered. James hums as he stirs sugar into his coffee now—he wouldn’t have noticed, except that Jeannie pointed it out in the breakroom. “Guess I’m feeling…better,” he says.

The common rumor around the office is that he’s in therapy, or getting fucked on the regular. He prefers both of these to the truth, which is that yesterday Parker grudgingly taught him to freefall off a forty-story building, and his blood is still humming. (”How do you feel?” Sophie asked coolly, reeling him toward the ledge. “Oh, fantastic, never better,” Sterling bit out, and they’d smirked, in a very British sort of way, at one another.)

He’s been double- (triple? it’s hard to keep track) crossing IYS for eighteen months by the time they figure it out, and by then, Hardison has tipped him off and told him both how to wipe his hard drive and get out of the building in time. Eliot is there out front, looking grumpy but then, what else is new?

“Get in,” Eliot grunts, and Sterling does, and is very patiently silent all the way to the empty warehouse where his criminals are all apparently squatting.

“I thought I defrauded more money for you than this,” James says archly when he steps out of the car. “No,” Sophie sighs theatrically. “You did not, shame on you.”

“Well, fine then,” James answers with a shrug. Nothing he can do about IYS, that bridge is good and burnt, turning to ash as he speaks. “What’s next?”

If he were to compare—he can’t, because in this universe Nate Ford stays in the employ of IYS, happy with his beautiful, clever wife and a smiling, hale child. But if it were apples to apples, and Nate Ford turned to a life of defrauding the rich and powerful, of exerting…how shall we say…leverage? James would be better at it.

He wasn’t that moral to begin with, you see. He fit right in from the start.

James gets their Christmas card, with Sam clutching a battered-looking trumpet and grinning a gap-toothed grin, Maggie’s hand lingering on her son’s shoulder. Nate is beaming, ruddy, happy.

I’m so glad for you, Sterling writes, and doesn’t sign his name. Sticks it back in the mailbox marked, ‘RETURN TO SENDER.’

#leverage #adherents of the repeated meme #consistenthero #this is a thing I made

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thatmultifandomhoe · 6 years ago

Text

Strawberry Cream and BBQ - 13

Pairing: Hybrid Hoseok and Human Reader

Overview: Your best friend knows she can count on you for anything, so when she asks you to watch her hybrid while she’s gone for a study abroad trip for four months, you can’t say no. But when these four months are over, things have changed in a way no one expected.

Word Count: 2,170

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Future smut, Angst, Best friends to Lovers

Warning: None

Master List

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 (Final) - Move in Day: A SC&BBQ Drabble

©thatmultifandomhoe Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

The restaurant was nearing the end of dinner rush by the time you arrived, which meant that Hoseok and you were able to get seated at a booth in a moderately quiet area. It was a blessing that there weren’t any kids nearby.

“It’s been way too long,” Hoseok groaned, leaning back in his seat across from you.

“Sue doesn’t take you?” You couldn’t help but ask, slipping your jacket and purse off and stuffing them against the wall. Before leaving, you had exchanged your hoodie for a thin maroon sweater that had triangle cut outs along the neckline and chest. You even slipped on a pair of black bootie heels and threw on light makeup. All while mentally telling yourself that this was in fact, not a date. You had not asked Hoseok out on a date. It was just two best friends going out to dinner.

Hoseok frowned as he took a deep breath. “No. I think the last time we came here, Colin had been with us. He didn’t like going out to a restaurant and having to cook the food himself.”

It was impossible for you to not roll your eyes, making a face at the mention of Colin’s name once again. That didn’t unmissed by Hoseok who softly chuckled. “It’s alright, the guys and I have been here a few times on our own. Just hard to get all seven of us in one place for food at once.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have made time for us to come down here.”

He just shrugged, taking a sip of the soda he had ordered. Before he could say a word, the waiter came by with the raw meat and vegetables, setting everything, including the side dishes, on the side. With everything sorted out and the grill that was built into the table was turned on, he promptly left.

Under the restaurant’s lighting, Hoseok was undeniably handsome tonight. He was wearing all black. A leather jacket, his t-shirt, his ripped skinny jeans and boots, were all black. And with his wonderfully skin kissed tan skin, something you were jealous of from time to time, it made you wonder if he had dressed like this on purpose.

“Don’t worry Strawberry,” Hoseok spoke, smirking as if he knew that you were checking him out the entire time. “I’ll man the grill. I know how much you suck at doing this part.

You immediately pouted, resting your elbow on the table to lean your cheek against your palm. “I don’t suck, I just have poor technique.”

Hoseok laughed as he put the meat on the grill, his eyes crinkling up in the corner as he shook his head. The light above you reflected back on the silver rings he was wearing, making you die on the inside. Somehow, some way, he found out about your weakness for men wearing all black and rings. There was no way he dressed like this when he was just hanging out with his friends.

Then again, it was the majority of the female population’s dream to see the guy they liked dressed all dark and mysterious.

“Besides, I’m here with you now. That’s all that matters.” His brown eyes met your gaze, his words going around your mind on repeat as he gave you a tender smile. One that said more than words ever could.

Oh, dear God. If that didn’t make you want to lean across the table and kiss him right then and there, you didn’t know what would.

You had seen that smile before, had even envied that smile, but you never saw it on Hoseok. You saw it every time Namjoon looked at Katie, his mate. Despite the fact you never understood what Sue saw in Colin, she gave him that same smile.

It was a smile that you always wished your ex boyfriends would look at you with but never did.

Pressing your lips together, you were the first to break eye contact to look back down at the grill, hoping you weren’t blushing. Even if you were, you’d blame it on the heat from the grill.

Hoseok was proud though, his smile widening when you finally looked away. He had been kicking himself ever since you mention dinner earlier. After all that he had planned and put together, he somehow managed to forget that. However, this was better. Eating his favorite food with the woman he’s in love with…nothing could get better than this.

If he kept playing his cards right, you’d be his girl, and he’d be able to tell you about being his mate. All he needed now was to figure out why Sue had sent him those texts, have you accept him, and he’d be the happiest hybrid alive.

The sizzling of meat drew him back from his day dream. Grabbing his chopsticks, he flipped the meat over. “Can you start putting some of the vegetables on?” He pointed to several of the cups so you would know which ones.

With careful hands, you used the chopsticks to scoop out the food. It might not he been as if fast if Hoseok were doing it, but you preferred taking your time, especially when there was a hot grill right in front of you. “How was Namjoon?” You asked, remembering that he hadn’t mention it when you got home.

“Uh, pretty good.” He slowly answered, focusing on one piece of meat that he couldn’t get a grip on. “Took him to Seokjin’s finally.” The last thing he wanted to do was lie to you, but he didn’t want you finding out the exact truth just yet.

“Is he still making those exotic coffees?”

Hoseok raised an eyebrow as he moved around the vegetables you placed on for him. “Yes, and somehow they manage to not taste as nasty as you’d think.” He was silent for a moment, and then continued. “You know you can go down to the café whenever you want, right? It’s not only for hybrids.”

“I know, but that’s your guys spot. Plus, I’d feel like I’d be stepping in on guy time for some reason if I just showed up.”

“Should I tell that to the other female hybrids who go to Seokjin’s?”

You had been stirring the ice in your drink with your straw when he said that, your hand pausing, eyes lifting to look up at him. “That’s not what I meant,” you softly said.

The sudden emotion you were hit with surprised you. It wasn’t the fact that he talked to other women, it’d be insane for you to be jealous over something like that. It all quite literally, came down to genetics. Those women were hybrids. You weren’t.

Deep down you know it was stupid to get jealous over. The logical side of you kept reminding you that hybrids took humans as mates too. But the emotional part pushed that away, convincing you that Hoseok wanted a female hybrid for his mate. Someone who he could relate to. Someone who wasn’t his best friend.

Hoseok glanced up at you, sensing the wave of sadness despite the neutral expression you wore. His mind raced to figure out what it was that made you suddenly feel this way, hoping that it wasn’t something that he said. An instinctive whine tried to escape his lips, but he pressed his lips together to force it back. He didn’t remain silent for long.

“Come with me next time,” he blurted out, catching you off guard. “To Seokjin’s café. Next time I go, come with me.” That had to be the reason you were suddenly sad, Hoseok thought. If you went with him then all would be well. Right? Plus, he really the idea of being able to take you out again, so much so that his tag wagged against the back of his seat.

The corner of your mouth curled up in a smile, but your mind and emotions were arguing back and forth. There was still a chance that Hoseok’s mate would be a hybrid, and there was nothing that you would be able to do about it. You were just going to have to accept it when that day came.

“You sure?” You asked. Lifting your head off your hand, your fingers tugged at the sleeves of your sweater as you glanced at the food. With a start, you were surprised to see that the majority of it was done cooking. He just started to dish some of it out, handing you a bowl of white rice.

“Yes Strawberry,” Hoseok firmly said. He even stopped what he was doing to look at you, trying to fix whatever happened. Whether or not it was even his fault, he wanted to make you happy again. “I’m not saying that because Seokjin would love to see you at his café, although I’m pretty sure he would. But because I want you there. And it won’t be you intruding on guy time, I promise. We can plan out a day, that it’s just the two of us drinking coffee that shouldn’t taste good but does while scarfing down Jin’s pastries.”

You licked your lips, prolonging your answer. There was no special meaning to his words. If anything, they were just words with a promise of one day getting together to hang out. At least, that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of.

Words were always just going to be words, but the way he said them, that made all the difference. He spoke with such an intensity that your heart quivered that was why you reacted to them. There were no words that left for you to say, because as simple as his were, they were extraordinary. Maybe you were overthinking, reading way too far into what he was asking.

For the rest of dinner, everything seemed to be smooth sailing; Hoseok’s face relaxing as his tail wagged underneath the table when he finally got to eat. He even got you to laugh when he caught a pickled cucumber in his mouth after convincing you to toss it for him. Your mind on the other hand, was still processing it all. It continued to do so long after the two of you left the restaurant to go back to the apartment, disappearing into your respective rooms.

Dinner was still on your mind at midnight, your Literature textbook sitting abandoned on the blankets next to you. Emerson would have to wait until tomorrow for his deep thoughts about life, there was only one person occupying your mind tonight, and he was sleeping in the room next door.

Your heart raced as you remember the way his hand felt on your back when walking out of the restaurant. Soft and reassuring, a promise that he wasn’t going anywhere. Then again when entering the apartment. The gesture was so simple but it instantly brought forth daydreams of him living in the apartment with you, permanently instead of temporary. You tried to tell yourself that wasn’t possible as you dressed for bed. You weren’t his owner, Sue was.

That didn’t stop them.

These moments and daydreams, sudden as they were, continued to come even faster. Going to the café together, him showing you how to dance, long walks whenever and wherever the two of you felt like it, waking up in his arms. They were so sweet and so short that they left you wanting more. Sniffing, you blinked and the furniture in you room blurred. Tentatively touching your cheek, you were shocked when your fingers came back wet with tears.

With your head leaning back against the headboard, you pulled the blankets up to your chin as you stared at a picture of you and Hoseok on your nightstand. You remembered that day. The two of you had been sitting on the couch waiting for Sue to hurry up, planning an all-day trip to the mall or somewhere. Hobi had been on his phone when you suddenly called out his name, quickly smiling when he saw that you had it on selfie mode.

“Why Hobi?” you barely whispered to yourself, taking the textbook and setting it on your night stand before rolling over to your side. “Why did you have to make it sound like a date?”

The only way you were getting an answer was if you went to his room and asked him yourself, but you couldn’t. You were to scared that when you asked, he would just say he meant it as two friends getting coffee. Like how he and Namjoon went there earlier.

If that was the answer you got, your heart was going to be broken beyond repair. It was too late to back out of it now. You said yes to him Hoseok during dinner, but under the wrong context. You’re aching heart wanted to go to Seokjin’s with Hobi as a date, but your mind forced you to settle for a friendly get together instead.

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colonel-insomniac · 5 years ago

Text

I’ve Got a Crush on You

read on ao3

Bobby was at a family reunion and he was so bored. This time, the reunion was at his grandmother’s house, and it isn’t that Bobby was without WiFi, it was merely that he had no one to really talk to. He could talk to his relatives, but they all talk to him like he doesn’t even have a brain just because he decided he’d rather continue working as a fry cook in a “grease generator” as they like to call the Krustie Krabbe.

But he loved being there, at the Krustie Krabbe it was like he was finally who he was meant to be. Well, mostly. Maybe when Mr Krabbes sees him as the adult—albeit young adult—that he is, maybe he’ll finally get the recognition that he deserves. His friends were the only ones who talked to him like he was an equal, even Sandy, even though he couldn’t understand half of her science jargon.

And he craved one of those weird conversations with his best friend. But though his parents considered Patrick Starr family, Bobby’s family was insistent that only real Porous family members were allowed to join. So, he’d said his farewell to Patrick, who still wanted to get in the car with Bobby, and drove the hour and forty-five minute journey to his grandmother’s house.

He could faintly hear the soft jazz music drifting from the living room. He was alone at the moment, sitting on a bar stool in the kitchen, tapping his fingers on the kitchen as he laid on his other arm. Patrick said he had to go run some errands an hour ago, and Bobby’s been waiting for Pat to get back.

Bobby had already scrolled through his Instagram feed, his Snapchat, his Tumblr, heck, even his Twitter, which he barely ever uses. So now he's just kind of doing nothing, watching the black phone screen, willing Patrick to finally come back.

But Bobby's been thinking in the time that he's had to do nothing. He's liked Patrick for a while now, and since there's nothing to entertain himself, he'll have to get creative.

He's gonna song-lyric-prank Pat. Which is so 2018 in his opinion but maybe it'll be fun. He's gonna use something that Patrick should recognize, a Frank Sinatra song, specifically, I've Got A Crush on You.

Now sitting up, Bobby grabs his phone and taps on Pat's message thread.

Patrick takes a couple minutes to respond, and Bobby can almost see Pat try to understand what's going on, if the little "read" text underneath Bobby's message is anything to go on.

Then the three dots pop up—

<PraisePink: uh im confused, grls r going after u???>

Bobby smiles, tapping out the next chunk of lyrics.

Bobby knows he has Pat's attention now, if the immediate typing is proof. Bobby decides now he isn't so bored anymore.

<PraisePink: im still not gettin it bud>

He knows that that message makes it sound as though maybe Bobby's hit his head a little too hard. Bobby glances around the room, just to check that no one's watching as he smiles at his phone.

<PraisePink: r u ok>

<PraisePink: u rn't concussed?>

Bobby sends a quick 'nope' before moving along with the next lyric. This time, Bobby can't help blushing even though it isn't anything bad.

And yeah, so Bobby's adding a couple words into the lyrics, but it's only 'cause he wants it to last long enough for it to be fun.

As the three dots appear again, Bobby leans in unintentionally, waiting excitedly to see what Pat's response will be. When he's sure Pat's almost done typing, his phone is suddenly gone, snatched out of his hands.

Bobby looks up, bewildered. Then he spots his cousin Jack, or as they sometimes call him, Cousin BlackJack, an allusion to the numerous black eyes Jack has had through his adolescent years. Jack and Bobby are pretty similar in height, but whereas Jack is buff and muscular, Bobby isn't.

"Jack," Bobby pleads, "give me back my phone. That isn't funny." He reaches for the device but Jack pulls it behind his back.

"Uh-uh," Jack smirks, "let's see what you're up to that's keeping you from spending actual time with the family." Bobby blanches. "Jack, no. That's not fair. You know family is everything, I'm just talking to Patrick."

"Well, let's take a look, then." Bobby knows nothing he says will stop Jack, so he shuts his mouth and prays Jack won't tray and make an issue out of the situation.

The evil glint in his cousins eye grew as he scrolled through the messages. "Oh this is pure gold." Jack chuckles, glancing at Bobby. "I wonder what'll happen if the family finds out."

"No Jack, stop. I'm not messing around with you. Don't do this."

Jack shrugs. "Nothin' I can do, cuz'." Jack glances at the phone again. "Jeez, this guy must be smitten with you Bobby, he's blowin' up your phone now."

Bobby blushes and inwardly curses himself with words he'd never say out loud. This darned joke and his stupid boredom. He should've just waited until after the reunion to do this.

"Tell you what, Robert," Jack smirks at Bobby, "tell me the next line, I wanna see what happens."

Bobby sighs, tapping the counter. He knows he has to go along with this, maybe Jack will get bored and give up.

"It's 'it's not that you're attractive, but oh, my heart grew active, when you came into view." Jack laughs, a mean one note 'ha'. "This is absolutely priceless, Bobby." Bobby’s eyes stung with tears, and he slid off his chair, garnering the attention of his cousin, who sighed heavily.

“Bobby, you never let me have fun with these things. I’m not even being mean! Our relatives are all wondering where you are and why you’re all alone. This is just payback for me sticking my neck out for you.” Bobby thinks somehow this doesn’t make sense, Jack makes sure never to jeopardize himself, opting to throw others under the bus. Somehow, Bobby knows what he’s saying isn’t true.

But Bobby also knows himself, and he knows there’s a small chance that Jack isn’t lying, so he walks over to Jack’s side so he can at least see what’s going on.

<PraisePink: sponge, ur kinda small, not big ;p>

<PraisePink: ok that 1st part kinda hurt :,C >

<PraisePink: whats going on tho>

Bobby bit back a grin at his friends statements, trying to put on his best poker face. “Bobby this guy’s smitten with you.” Jack exclaims incredulously.

“No he isn’t, Jack, there isn’t even anything to suggest that. You’re just going crazy.” Bobby stammers his response, a little nervous that Jack could be right.

“Kid, are you insane? This Patrick guy is literally flirting with you, and come on he’s concerned about you falling and hitting your head??” Jack does the sticking-finger-in-mouth bit to suggest his disgust at the two, and Bobby smiles.

“Well, Jack, you could always give me back my phone.” Bobby suggest, and rolls his eyes when Jack shakes his head. “Nope, I’m gonna help you.”

“Jack,” Bobby begins, “your ‘helping’ isn’t always so helpful, you know?”

“I know.” In that instant, Bobby swears Jack looks like a villain, all dark shadows cast on his face from he doesn’t even know where, and an evil grin plastered on his face.

Bobby knows he isn’t a bad cousin to Jack, so he doesn’t understand why Jack always has to pick on him, and Bobby knows that one of these days, he’s going to finally snap and finally get everyone to stop walking all over him. “C’mon, give me the next line.”

Bobby cringes “I’ve got a crush on you, sweetie pie, all the day and night-time hear me sigh.” He looks away in embarrassment when Jack laughs, “You chose the best song for this Bobby. Genius.”

“Wow, he’s really waiting for you to respond, as soon as it sent it showed that he’d seen it. He’s already typing a response.” Bobby lifts up his head at that, intirgued as to what Patrick’ll say.

<PraisePink: w8, what?>

<PraisePink: srsly????? u’ve got a crush on me???>

Bobby never expected he’d let out a sound as strangled as the one currently exiting his mouth, a mix of a groan and a scream. Perhaps a little dramatic, Bobby would drape himself on a couch if he could do so, or if he were back home, he would pack his stuff and skip town for a couple days. But now he’s stuck with facing the consequences. “And now, Bobby,” Jack pulls Bobby’s phone behind his back, raising the pointer finger on his free hand, “I must bid you adieu.”

Caught off guard, Bobby puzzles over what jack might mean by that when Jack takes off running. Ever alert, Bobby chases after him a second after.

He’s too late. In the time it took for Bobby to chase after his cousin, Jack has managed to reach the bathroom and lock it behind him. Nevertheless, Bobby thrusts his shoulder against the door, hoping the old door will just give in. No luck. Of course, what else should Bobby expect?

It’s almost as though his world is shattering around him, because he knows whatever is happening between Jack and Patrick behind that door isn’t good at all. Right as he’s about to go run looking for a Bobby pin to pick the lock, the door swings open and Jack walks out. “Give it, Jack. Now I have to fix whatever mess you’ve stirred up. Again.”

“Sure thing,” Jack replies and places the phone in Bobby’s open palm, much to his surprise. Jack just keeps walking, covering his mouth as he yawns. ‘At least his parents taught him that.’ Bobby thinks, spiteful as he aims the coldest glare he can manage at the back of Jack’s head.��

Now it’s time to lock himself in the bathroom and fix the damage. His message thread with Patrick has grown a lot despite Jack not being in the bathroom long.

<PraisePink: sponge?? U still there???? r u being srs rn???>

Then, a reply from “Bobby.”

Bobby face palms. That’s doesn’t even look like his text-speak.

<PraisePink: u don’t like me like that?>

Bobby can physically feel his stomach dropping. This is it, isn’t it? This is when his whole life simply ends.

<PraisePink: oh this is a joke? Cos ur at a reunion, right>

<PraisePink: and that’s what you really think, huh?>

<PraisePink: well I don’t need you>

Bobby falls to the ground, and surprisingly, with no loud thuds. <Sunshine ☀️: Pat?>

Two minutes pass. No response. Four. No response. Bobby waits ten minutes, hopelessly, as he waits for a response. Nothing.

The little ‘read’ text pops up, so Bobby waits for an answer. Nothing happens, so he continues, desperately trying to get Pat to understand what’s happening.

Still no response.

The three gray dots pop on his screen, and it doesn’t take Patrick long to type out his response, mostly because it’s short.

<PraisePink: idk if i believe that.>

Bobby’s heart cracks as his desperation grows.

<PraisePink: idk, can u maybe give me time>

<PraisePink: i know things usually dont affect me, but im actually rlly hurt rn>

Bobby lets go of his phone, and it clatters on the floor, as he draws his knees to his chest and full on cries. Sobs—maybe that’s a better word for it. “Alright, Bobby ol’ boy, you gotta pull yourself together.” He wipes his eyes as he stands back up, a plan already forming in his head.

“I gotta leave this place, I need to get to Pat.” He pushes the door open, hurrying down the hall. Bobby’s about to make it through the front door, too, the door opens, one foot on the porch, one step closer to Patrick.

“Robert Porous!” At the sound of his first and last name, Bobby turns, stopping abruptly enough that he almost falls forward. His mom is walking towards him, and lays a hand on her son’s arm.

“Just where on Earth are you going?” She asks, “And why were you crying?”

Bobby bites his lip as he looks at his mom, “I messed up, with Pat, and I need to go make things right. Please, let me go fix this.” His mom studies his briming eyes for a moment, the wind blowing wisps of hair across her face, and ruffling the sleeves of her baby blue dress. She glances inside the house quickly, as her hand slides down, setting Bobby free.

She nods once, quickly, and steps back. “Alright. Go, go to him, but I didn’t see you leave, alright? I’ll try and keep them from saying anything.” The pair hug and Bobby’s mom steps inside again, quietly closing the door, maintaining eye contact with her son.

He hops into his car, and drives off. He finally got his license, but because he’s failed it a couple of times, he isn’t technically supposed to drive without an experienced driver for another month. But that doesn’t matter, all that matters is that he gets to Pat.

He drives back to his beach town in silence. There’s no need for music when his brain provides enough chatter to drown out everything else. He keeps his eyes trained on the road in front of him, occasionally glancing at the speedometer and side mirrors, just like he should.

He makes a couple stops on the way home. The first is to the nearest Target. Bobby carefully parks, and pretty much literally runs into the store, propelling himself forward with a cart. He scans the flower display and contemplates which one Pat might like before the lightbulb in his mind goes off. He races towards the Valentines Day aisle. The event is still a week away, and hopefully they’ll have exactly what he needs.

Bobby nearly dances when he finds what he’d been looking for: chocolate roses. The delicate chocolate was wrapped daintily in red and green tinfoil. Bobby doesn’t even bother looking at the price tags, he grabs 20 chocolate flowers, and goes in hunt for his next item: ribbon. Once he gets to the crafts aisle, Bobby only knows he wants it to be something lacy. He’d thought maybe red, but now that he’d seen it up close, the red on red is too muted.

He needs something that isn’t simple, something that’ll stand out. Scanning the rolls of lace on the shelves, his eyes keep going back to a dainty white lace. He decides it’s probably his best option, and heads over to the checkout, anxious to get to Pat right as the sun’s sets. Bobby’s in such a hurry that he nearly forgets his bag, this time literally running back to his car, gently setting down the bag on the passenger seat, and pulling out of the parking spot.

<PraisePink: hey, can we talk?>

The message comes through while Bobby’s on the highway, his tongue poking out of his mouth only slightly as he pushes away his nerves. He’s never driven on the interstate highway before, so naturally he’s terrified. He doesn’t even glance at his phone, he’s on a mission, and it’s the most important thing to him right now.

When he pulls the car off the interstate, it’s too stop at a chinese restaurant. He knows Patrick Starr better than he knows himself, and he knows Pat probably is craving chinese right now. Bobby decides even though he isn’t hungry, and can’t even stomach the thought of eating, he’d probably be hungry later, and gets himself some too.

He’s now five minutes away, and each minute spent in the car feels like another hour passing by. The sky is bathed with those glorius golden rays of sun. Once he manages to safely park in front of the apartment complex, he takes a moment to wrap the roses together with the white ribbon. He carefully secures his own takeout box with some ribbon too, and slides it in his bag. Sometimes, you have to find solutions that aren’t necessarily optimal.

He quietly makes his way up the stairs, pausing to read and answer Patrick’s text:

He reaches Pat’s front door right as Patrick starts typing, and places down the bag of chinese takeout, laying the bouqet of chocolate roses on top of them. Bobby rings the doorbell and crouches behind a fake tree, right as the door swings open, heart hammering.

He can just barely make out Patrick’s features as his face contorts in confusion and he bends down to pick them up. “Shoot!” Bobby yelps, realizing he forgot to write a note. As soon as he realizes he said it out loud, he clamps his hands over his mouth, peeking around the plant to check whether Patrick heard it.

His phones buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it. He knows it was Pat, he just barely managed to glimpse Patrick’s thumb hit the phone in his hand. “Bobby?” Pat calls out. “I know you’re there, you’re the only guy I know dorky enough to do something like this. Unless it was Edward. Hey Edward?!”

“Whatever it is, the answer is no.” The muffled response makes Pat laugh, and nearly makes Bobby giggle.

Pat picks up the bouqet and the takeout and walks inside, glancing around one last time. His eyes briefly stop where Bobby’s hiding, but he closes the door. Bobby knows he’s waiting. After a minute, Bobby quietly gets up and starts heading back down the stairs dejectedly. He can feel his bottom lip tremble, and he bites down on it. He may very well have lost his best friend. He lets the tears stream freely.

He makes it to the threshold outside the building, glancing back briefly before sitting inside his car and pulling out his phone.

<PraisePink: i know im not the brightest but i just cant tell if ur telling the truth, maybe we need to just take some space>

He places his phone on the console between the front seat and the passenger seat, and places his head on the steering wheel. Bobby’s so wrapped in his thoughts, and emotions he doesn’t hear the door open, or close for that matter. “Sponge.” comes the quiet whisper. Bobby still doesn’t hear it, so Pat places a hand on Bobby’s hunched shoulder.

Bobby jumps, and an ungodly nasally gasp emits itself from his throat. His face burns in embarrassment. “Bobby, listen to me.” Pat states. “I know you’re the one who left the food and the roses.” Bobby opens his mouth, about to tell Pat to just forget about it, when Patrick shakes his head. “Listen. I thought maybe you were being honest with me before, and maybe you were just trying to get me to believe you. But then you left those chocolate flowers and the takeout—which is scary, how’d you know I’d been wanting chinese?”

“Pat—”

“Anyways, my point is, in that moment, I realized you’d always been there for me, you do sweet things like this. It just wouldn’t make sense for you to be mean to me and then do something like that.” Pat grabs Bobby’s small hands in his, but Bobby doesn’t meet his eyes.

His curly burnt orange casts shade over his eyes as he keeps his head downcast. “Pat, I need you to know that I’ve got—”

“I know. I figured it out after that last lyric that was sent to me. I had to go search the song to make sure, but I know music, and I knew that it was Frank Sinatra. To be honest, it’s a clever way to confess.” Patrick lets go of one of Bobby’s hands, and tilts the shorter man’s head up to face him. He gently sweeps the hair off Bobby’s forehead before reconnecting their hands.

“And your cousin Jack was right. I am in love with you too. He’s also right in saying that you have my complete devotion, anything you ask, I’d do for you, because it’s you. Bobby, you’re my best friend, but you’re also the only person I’ve truly loved completely.” Bobby smiles, feeling like hell iced over, but Pat gets out of the car and Bobby willingly follows suit, locking the car behind him.

Pat tugs Bobby close to him and Bobby laughs against Pat’s chest as the taller of the two wraps his arms around the other. They stay like that, their bodies as physically close as they can be, for a minute and a half. They each regard the other for a moment, before Bobby stands on tiptoe, and kisses Patrick.

He whispers the words “I’ve got a crush on you.”

Pat snorts, “Dork.”

#spongebob #patrick #spongebob the musical #pearl #mr krabs #squidward #this took forever #and i didnt even go to school today

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xaz-fr · 6 years ago

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The Story So Far

@deadpool-scar-bro @hikayelastoria @cornsnoot-fr @redlion-fr @mushroomdraggo @murdoch-fr @tales-around-sornieth @frxemriss @rainhearts-hatchery @rexcaliburr-fr @starry-ampelope @plainstriderbard @reanimatedfr @voltaic-ambassador @sirensage-fr @journey-taken-fr @ally-fr @golden-lionsnake @rookfern-fr @fr-dew (let me know if you’d like to be added to the lore pinglisn't)

Ty and Heliconia are in dragon form, Nads is humanoid for this one

Been waiting to move on with my lore (fucking Astra) before I gened Tyberion here and now I finally did! Fully gened except for his WC scroll which woin'thappen until later in his and Nadalin's lore.

Fresh Coat

Heliconia didn't like what he was doing. Why he was doing it. He looked at his hide in the reflection of a too small mirror. It looked different now. He looked different. He wasn't sure how much he liked it now that it was like this. It was a big change but he'd worked for it. He'd spent a lot of time away from Nadalin to look this way, for her. He swallowed.

“How do I look?” he asked his mother who was laying on a sack chair casually, looking at him preen. He tried to smile but felt too nervous to do so.

“Like you value form over substance,” she said, face disapproving.

“That sounds like something father would say,” he said. It made hi, feel bad. His mother didn't deserve that. But he knew now that she was as manipulated by his father as he had been.

“No, your father would say that you are a disgrace to survival,” Heliconia said. “And that if you cannot get by with yourself and just change everything about yourself to survive than you aren't worthy of surviving.”

“Well thank the Eleven he isn't here then,” Tyberion said.

“Your Charge doesn't care what you look like, son. Neither should you,” Heliconia said.

Tyberion’s head fins closed in annoyance. “I think I look nice,” he said. He had had several of the others help him decide what scrolls he would take the time to gather. Aten had been a great help. Him and Astra actually. It was striking how quickly Aten’s mood had changed once his sister started living with him in that house to the South. If Tyberion didn't know any better he'd say the miserable lout was happy.

And he knew his Charge didn't care what he looked like. But he cared if Nadalin thought he looked good, handsome. The plates along his chest itched thinking about it, right over his second heart. Oh Gods he was going to go see Nadalin soon. That was terrifying. “Does looking this way please you, son? Did you not like the way you were born?” Heliconia asked him.

“Mama,” he said, looking at her, “I was born in a decaying bay full of disease and rot to an insane sire and… you,” he tempered his words. He knew that Heliconia’s words were just bred from fear that he would abandon her. She had her own Charge but Tetra just saw her as a friend, a slightly annoying one at that. “My looks weren't exactly either of your primary concern. And you look lovely,” he added, “but I'm not there anymore. I need to look like I belong in this place. I can't when I literally look like I crawled out of a plague infested not.” His friends would never say it but Aten’s lovely niblings asked why his displayed genes were ugly. Aten had, of course, instantly hushed them and told them that was rude but Tyberion had felt that deeply.

“I suppose,” Heliconia allowed but still sounded unhappy. “And you aren't doing this to get back at me?”

“Mama, no,” he huffed. “Now we should leave. You need to go help Tetra, it's getting rather late in the day.” He went over to his mother and pushed her to his feet. As he did he realized how much bigger he was than her. He hadn't even noticed when he's grown larger than her. It happened while in the Hall.

Heliconia clambered to her feet. “Yes, I suppose so,” she sighed. She rubbed her head against his affectionately. “Don’t come home too late now.”

“I won't,” he promised and then before Heliconia could say anything else he practically bounded out of their shed of a house. Not that it mattered. All they did was sleep in it. It was a warm, dry, place to sleep and little else was needed. It was practical, serviceable, fit Heliconia’s sensibilities.

Once outside Tyberion lept into the air and flew out over the mangroves to where the wind stirred. He landed amid the bamboo stand and made sure he still looked okay. He was very nervous about Nadalin seeing him like this for the first time. He'd been away for a bit getting all his new look applied and now… and now he was showing his Charge that he'd changed. It shouldn't matter of course. She was his Charge. She shouldn't care he looked different. But he hoped she did. Because he had… other feelings for her and oh wasn't that something he could never tell his mother without her getting cross with him. A Guardin and Charge was a sacred bond between two things. She claimed that you couldn't and shouldn't be romantic with your Charge. Of course she did have the bad history of his father pretending she was his Charge warping her perception on what was and wasn't a valid thing you do with ones Charge. At least that was what he told himself so he didn't feel guilty about his feelings.

After making sure he looked alright he stepped out of the bamboo and down the path to where Nadalin's little hut was. She was, as always, at her work table. But at this time of day she was freshly out of bed and drinking a cup of morning tea from Shai’s fields. She was idly making notes of some sort in a notebook and didn't notice him until his shadow fell across her. She looked up and for a moment she looked confused. “Tyberion?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“By the Wimdsinger!” she got to her feet and came around her table, looking up at him. “I didn't even recognize you! But look at you, you're all scrolled. Where did you get so many scrolls?” Her Wimd eyes were bright and curious and not at all as judgemental as his mother’s or as disapproving as he had feared.

“I was saving,” Tyberion said. “It was a busy time for use you know, with the Night of the Nocturne.” He'd never worked so hard I'm his life. “What do you think?” he asked, still nervous.

“Bring your head down here, let me see you,” she said and he obediently lowered his head down to her level. He supposed he should have realized he was hard to see while she was in her dragonoid form.

She took his entire head in her hands and his facial fine snapped open. She had a kind smile spread across her face as she looked him over. “Yes yes, very handsome indeed,” she said with teasing approval. Tyberion’s eyes widened at that. She thought he was handsome!? He tried not to think too much about it. Aten also called him handsome and Aten wasn't interested in him like that. No use getting excited.

“You think so?” he asked her.

“Why not?” she beamed at him. Then she frowned, “Your mother said otherwise didn't she?”

“… Maybe,” he allowed.

“Uhg, you need to stop listening to her, Tyberion. You're much better than she acts like you must be.”

“Yes,” he just agreed. It did upset him that the two most important women in his life, his mother and his Charge, did not get along at all. He found that just agreeing with them about whatever they said about the other without offering any counters or judgement was the best way to go about it. “But you think my new display looks nice?” he said to distract her from her opinions on Heliconia.

“Yes,” she said nicely. “Your future mate is going to be very lucky to have such a well general mate,” she patted his snout. No that was not the reaction he wanted. “You going to help me with so,e work today or does someone else need your services?”

“I am at your disposal, as always,” Tyberion said. Fjord liked to drag Tyberion into helping him and Aten around the Hall because he was still in dragon form and between him and Aten (who was smaller at the shoulder but longer than him) they could bully any piece of lumber or masonry into submission. Johanna also said there would be no working for a while. She was quite exhausted from the Night and needed a respite.

“Great. I need some help cutting down some of the bamboo. It's getting a bit out of hand.”

“Of course. I was rather hungry today, I think I can handle some bamboo.”

“No you silly,” she cried even as she laughed. He gave her a dragon’s smile.

#Flight rising #Fr dragon share #Fr lore share #Dragon share #Lore share #Cypress hall

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reignsrkive · 6 years ago

Text

‣ Exes Prompt List

14 ⌜One thing we always had in common was music. But did you really have to ask for a job at my dad’s record shop where I work too?⌟

‣ Genre; Angst

‣ Word Count; 2,06k

Like on a normal Monday morning, you opened your dad’s record shop. You spent the first hour- you always went one hour earlier to organize-, placing new CDs and different pieces of vinyl on the shelves of each genre, playing your favourite playlists on the speakers and humming to the songs quietly. You cleaned wherever you had to and flipped around the open sign, waiting for customers.

As you walked behind the register, you noticed a sticky note with your dad’s handwriting on it. You picked it up and your eyes scanned it, your eyebrows furrowed. ‘The new employee will come by today for his first day at 9am for the morning shifts, along with you. He’s good already, don’t think he needs too much training. -Dad’

New employee? You knew your dad was looking for someone so that they can help you around since he couldn’t be there in the mornings, but you had no idea he already found someone and didn’t tell you sooner. You would have prepared if he did. And it’s a he? Boy, you weren’t ready for what was coming. Your brain told you to expect someone that wouldn’t be that attractive, maybe just cute, some music geek. You would have expected for a girl to get the job in the first place, but a guy? He must be a teen, he wouldn’t be over the age of 20. Not over your age, at least.

You waited as customers came and go, the time being 09:11 am as an unexpected and very much familiar face walked in. The tall and handsome figure, with the long legs, the broad back, the tan skin, pretty eyes, and deep dimples lit the whole room the moment he walked in. Like always, he took your breath away by how effortlessly attractive he was, just in a simple pair of jeans, a white shirt and a jacket, one of those he liked. He had a thing for jackets that you didn’t understand that much, but damn they complimented his figure perfectly each time.

He walked towards the register and stood there with a soft smile, that hid a bit of bitterness as soon as you locked eyes. “Y/n,” He breathed out. “Good morning”

“Joon. Morning. Can I help?” You asked politely, not wanting to sound like a bitch or make a bad impression. “What are you doing here this early anyway?”

“I was looking for your dad, actually. You work the morning shifts?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yeah, always” You nodded. “What would you want my dad for? He’s only here in the afternoons”

“Well, I... I work here? He gave me a job and told me I start today so I-”

“Wait, what? You? He hired you?!” You asked, almost choking on your own saliva. “When did you come in for an interview? Didn’t he tell you I had the morning shifts?”

“Well, he did. I came in a week ago, he was looking and I already know this place by heart-”

“You know this place by heart because we fucked in every spot of it! Doesn’t mean you’ll fit the job!” You whispered loudly at him.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head with a sigh, finding your reaction over the top, feeling wary of the two customers in the store. It was a big store, an ex shouldn’t ruin the reputation. “Y/n, can we not? You like it or not, I need the job and I got it. Your father trusts me, he knows I can do just as well as you, so drop it. If you’re so upset by my presence- well you know what? You shouldn’t be, you should be calm since you were the one who broke up with me”

“My father always loved you, he wanted you to marry me, Namjoon. That’s not a fair judgment” You said.

“We would have gone there if you didn’t, I don’t know, go insane all of a sudden,” He said. “I just want to start my first day. I never came with bad intentions, don’t change that for whatever reason. Sure, I’m bitter because I know I’ve been treated unfairly. But this is a job, not a make up date or something”

“Always have to be the mature one, huh?”

“Someone has to” He replied firmly. “Now, can I get my name tag?”

It took more than a week to actually get used to working with Namjoon. There were countless days where you would just argue whenever you talked to each other, but never in front of people, because you knew that would have consequences. You hated how good he was even from the first day. The only reason you underestimated him was that you wanted to seem defensive so that he doesn’t get close.

You wanted him to get close, but at the same time, you didn’t. There are times where people overreact or argue for stupid things and one makes a bad move, so they break up. That was exactly your case. He was more than upset with you breaking up with him and he had every right. Now, you didn’t have the right to miss him and regret breaking up with him. You didn’t, you broke his heart. You couldn’t tell him you wanted him back, it was uncalled for since he seemed calm and genuinely happy as time went by in the record shop.

You had the impression every day would be filled with arguments and bad feelings. Guilt, pain. Mostly guilt and shame. Nevertheless, the air was different as soon as you woke up. You were kneeling down in front of the entrance, trying to unlock the end of the door, but you struggled as you had your bag on your shoulder and a couple of boxes filled with new CDs.

Namjoon walked up to you, holding two coffees and he immediately put them on the floor as he kneeled next to you. “Let me do it,” He said, his body and face way too close to yours. You turned to look at him, at his big dark eyes, his lips slightly parted, making them look even more pillowy as he leaned in to talk to you.

“Y-yeah, thanks” You swallowed, giving him the key and standing up carefully, to distance yourself. You took in a sharp breath as you looked at him stand up after he unlocked the door and opened it for you to go in after he had taken the two cups of fresh steaming coffee from the ground. “Thank you”

You left the two large boxes on the counter of the register and got behind it, taking your name tag from the first drawer under the counter. You handed Namjoon’s to him and looked down at the two coffees he had set there. “Why two? You’re going to overdose on coffee this early?”

“Ah, no” He laughed lightly. “I got one for you too. Do you still drink your coffee black?”

“Yeah, actually,” You smiled at him, taking the coffee into your hands. The warm exterior warmed up your cold hands and you brought it up to your nose, smelling the fresh brewed double espresso. “That’s really nice of you, thanks”

“If we’re going to be working together in the long term... I might as well” He shrugged, trying his best to seem indifferent and casual. Friendly. All the opposite of what he was feeling.

You nodded, focusing back on your work. He was kind enough to take one of the boxes on his own accord and start organizing the CDs around the store. You didn’t expect to find peace after one month of working with him. You were basically his boss if you thought about it since it was your own father’s record store. It took you long enough to be somewhat peaceful, but you didn’t expect it to feel that good when it did happen.

He looked at you at times throughout that same day. You even felt a little jealous when you noticed a girl flirting with him instead of actually asking about the CD she was holding in her hands. You almost broke it when she came by the register to purchase it, but Namjoon’s eyes being slightly wide as he noticed your stirring anger, calmed you down.

It all came down to the end of the night, where you had to work the afternoon shift and Namjoon offered to stay as well. Your father needing to have a small day trip might have been the cause of something both good and bad. Well, you didn’t exactly know how to receive kissing your ex against the locked record store door all of a sudden, when you were supposed to be closing down and leaving. It just happened. It was his eyes, the way he looked at you, the way it was dark and he looked even better that way, somehow. It was his cologne that still made you melt. Dammit, he was just everything that could make you weak in one person.

You pulled away, pushing his chest slightly, but you realized he had pulled away first, looking at you terrified. “I-”

“I have a girlfriend” He blurted out.

You swallowed harshly and shook your head to try and comprehend what he had just said. “Excuse me, you what?”

“I- well she’s not my girlfriend, we’ve only been out twice and we have a date in an hour but-”

“But?! Namjoon, what the hell are you doing kissing me then?! Are you insane!” You said, pushing him away and starting to pace around, something you did when you were frustrated.

He stopped you in your tracks, his hands on your shoulders and he looked into your eyes with fear. “We’re not exclusive. I’m not sure I even like her. Look-”

“Look what? You’re dating someone!”

“If you would only let me fucking talk, for once, y/n!” He yelled loudly at you, his eyes burning holes into your soul. You gulped down at the tone of his voice, never have been that loud enough towards you, which caused heads to turn as people walked around the busy streets of your city. “You never let me fucking talk! You just have to be the one to make decisions even if you’re delusional, you just have to be the one to say the last word! Am I wrong? Tell me, am I fucking insane for thinking that?!”

“N-no, you’re not, I just-” You stopped, your mouth open but no more words being uttered. “Look, you seem fucking happy, so why would you come around kissing me, helping me out, calming me down and bringing me coffee?”

“You know why the hell I’ve been looking so happy to you? Because I’ve been around you for a whole month. Because of you, because you have that effect on me. I went out with this girl two times to see if anything had changed, but nothing changed. I only decided on another date because apparently, you seem to hate my guts even more now” He said, a loud sigh blowing past his lips.

“I don’t hate anyone”

“Maybe you do and maybe that person is me”

“Joon, I’m not- This is difficult, okay? I can’t just act like this is not weird-”

“Is it weird? Because you seemed to kiss me back right away” He said, his stare so intense it made your heart pound against your chest.

“You know what? If you want to do this here, yelling in front of these strangers walking by, we’ll do it!” You yelled back. “I regret breaking up with you more every single time I see you in the morning. Every time you walk through that fucking door, I see your face and I want to, I don’t know, pound my head against the wall for being that freaking dumb and impulsive for throwing away the opportunity of the most stable and healthy relationship I’ll probably ever have. Every. Single. Day. So you can’t just come up to me, look at me this way and demand me to have an answer after a kiss or whatever!”

“You regret it?”

“Yes, I regret it, Namjoon. Is there a problem with that? I mean, you can tell me I told you so”

“I did tell you so...” He mumbled. “If you regret it then...”

“Then?”

“Then what happens now?”

⁝ Masterlist

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crowley-fe11 · 7 years ago

Text

Lost RP? Mer!lock

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like Johnlock.

Stranger: [Mer!lock AU] Down in the water, Sherlock had nothing but time and freedom to do with what he wished. Perhaps this would have been considered enviable to some, and indeed many of his own kind seemed to do perfectly useful and productive things with this flexible schedule of theirs, but it didn't prevent it from being so overwhelmingly boring to him. He spent his days doing whatever it was he was told not to do until it came to this. Out in the distance, he could see a ship. He'd been told about them, read about them in whatever half destroyed books he could salvage from shipwrecks. They were horrible and dangerous and fascinated him greatly. It only took a minute to work up enough courage to move closer and investigate. Looking up, he could hear voices and saw brief flashes of figures walking around. Leaning against the railing, also, there was a man. Blond, handsome. In the stupid way only those who'd never really before met a human, he fell immediately in love, though he himself knew the concept itself was absolutely insane. But now that he had to talk to him, how on earth could he manage to catch the attention of this potentially horrible and dangerous man without also catching the attention from the other potentially horrible and dangerous men? He went with the obvious and stupid. "Hello." He trusted the water to hide his nature.

You: John nearly jumped out of his skin at the greeting before turning around and seeing a man in the water below, just treading water beside the ship. "Oh, hello there," he greeted with a small chuckle, taking in the other's gorgeous features, his dark, wet curls, his eyes, a stunning light blue, and cheekbones that could cut like a knife. John realised he was probably staring a moment too long before he smiled to himself. "Sorry, I just never thought I'd see anyone swimming this far out. What's your name?"

Stranger: The moment it was clear that his attempt at communication wasn't going to be met with some unnecessary violence, he grinned, mind running with the possibilities this conversation could lead to. There were certainly plenty of things to learn from humans. "Oh, I doubt you would either, but I'm a very good swimmer, you know. My name is Sherlock. And yours?"

You: "And you're very humble about it too," John teased playfully as he smiled down at the gorgeous man in the water. "I'm John. It's nice to meet you," he told the other warmly. Sherlock. What an interesting name. They were only just meeting, but it seemed to suit the other man perfectly. "I feel awful for you to be all the way down there. I can toss you a line for you to come up if you'd like?"

Stranger: Sherlock, as caught up as he was with the lovely smile on John's face, was quick to shake his head when he suggested tossing a line down. "No, no, it's alright. As much as interesting as it would be to see your ship, I can't stay very long." He mentally cursed himself for cutting his time short. But it was necessary, if he didn't want to be discovered.

You: "That's a shame, I was hoping I could get to know such a fantastic and gorgeous swimmer such as yourself," John told him with a charming smile. He really hoped he could get something from the other. It wasn't every day that someone so beautiful just /swam/ over to talk to him. "Is there any way I might be able to get in touch with you?"

Stranger: Sherlock was quickly back to smiling. He did rather enjoy a compliment, certainly when it came from somebody as interesting as a human, and as handsome as John was. "I'm afraid not. But who knows, maybe I'll see your ship again and swim by to say hi again."

You: "I'd really like that," John told him, probably grinning like an idiot. It seemed silly that he'd get a number from someone so clearly out of his league, though it didn't hurt to try. "Hopefully I'll see you around soon, Sherlock."

Stranger: "Yes, I'll surely see you around." Sherlock grinned right back at John, a curious lightness in his chest. This was an awful idea, absolutely terrible, but he didn't regret it in the least. He backed away a little. "Until then."

You: God, that /smile/... John was sure he was falling head over heels for someone he'd only just met, but he couldn't help it. "Of course. Just be safe out there. I'm sure you have plenty of experience, but it doesn't hurt to be careful."

Stranger: "I'll be careful." Sherlock promised, slipping under the water and swimming away, grinning the whole while. He forced himself to wait at least two days before going to find the ship again, hoping it would look like an accident, a coincidence, like he wasn't looking. He circled around the ship when he spotted it, looking for John.

You: During the next couple days, John went about his business, making sure his small sailboat stayed on course. It was far too likely that Sherlock was some figment of his imagination, and John sighed at the possibility. He did seem far too perfect... He leaned over the railing and looked out at the horizon, daydreaming about the gorgeous swimmer.

Stranger: When Sherlock spotted John, finally, he beamed, popping up and squeezing the water out of his hair before calling for John's attention. "Hello!"

You: The familiar voice brought a grin to John's face as he looked over to the source. "Hey, how've you been?" He asked, taking in the sight of the other.

Stranger: "Oh, I've been alright. A little bored, but I'm pleased to see you again. And how have you been?" Sherlock asked, swimming close to John's ship, watching the lovely man.

You: "I've been alright. Enjoying the ocean as always," John told him with a small chuckle. "Though I can understand the boredom too. It's certainly nice to have company."

Stranger: "Oh, the ocean. I'm quite tired of the ocean. Certainly, it's beautiful, but I know there's more." Sherlock scoffed.

You: "Most people say the same thing about land," John told him as he shook his head in amazement. "Especially when there's so much of the ocean that hasn't been explored..."

Stranger: "I feel I've explored enough. I've been surrounded by ocean my whole life." Sherlock sighed, glancing off at the horizon. "I'd love to see some proper cities. Countries. The whole world."

You: "Do you live on an island or something? Or do you live on shore?" John asked curiously. "I'm sure you've been living by the ocean for a while if you're this comfortable swimming it."

Stranger: "An island." Sherlock answered with a little wave of his hand. It was close enough go the truth. "It's empty and dull."

You: "I'm sure that's not entirely true, but I can see how you might get a bit stir crazy," John told him with a small smile. "Just a thought, I know we haven't known each other long, but I think I'd enjoy traveling with you."

Stranger: Sherlock was both delighted and upset to hear it. "I think I would too. But I can't."

You: John let out a small sigh. "I figured. But you seem like a wonderful person."

Stranger: "So do you. But I couldn't possibly leave my brother, and he's quite happy where he is." It was a poor excuse, but he hoped that John would take it. "Though I do appreciate the offer."

You: "Are you and your brother close then?" John asked curiously, happy to learn more about the other, even if he couldn't coax the other to tag along.

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled quietly. "Oh, no, not really. But it's only us living there. I can't leave him alone." He shrugged.

You: "I can understand that a bit," John told him. "I used to be like that with my sister, though we've drifted apart lately."

Stranger: "Oh, you have a sister? Tell me about her. And where are you from?" Sherlock asked, curious.

You: "Yeah, we're from London," John told him with a soft smile. "Well, she's a bit younger than me, sassy, good sense of humour. Though she's gotten into some bad habits more recently. What's your brother like?"

Stranger: "A pain." Sherlock answered easily. "Controlling, irritating, etcetera. What's London like? I'm pretty sure I've heard of it."

You: "You're pretty sure? I thought everyone knew about it," John chuckled as he sat down with his legs dangling over the edge of the boat. "And god, it's amazing. Huge, lots of history, and culture..."

Stranger: "Live on an island with my brother, remember?" Sherlock pointed out, watching John's legs, comparing them in his mind to the skeletons he'd seen in shipwrecks and trying to figure how they worked. "Where else have you been?"

You: "Well, I served in the army, and I was deployed to Afghanistan for a while, though I didn't complete my tour. I got shot instead," John told him. "Though I've also been to Paris for a weekend, which was lovely. Though those are the most impressive places I've been," John added with a small shrug.

Stranger: "Paris. Afghanistan. London. Oh, that sounds lovely. I do wish I could see them." Sherlock sighed. "I've seen sketches of places. The ones I can save, though most of it is too damaged to get any use out of."

You: John furrowed his brow at what Sherlock told him. "What do you mean exactly?" he asked softly. "I because I have some pictures if you'd like to see them."

Stranger: "What, really?" Sherlock asked, perking up. "I mean, sometimes I go down as far as I can, and I look through shipwrecks for as long as I can. Sometimes I find books, drawings, those sorts of things, but it's been in the water so long it's damaged."

You: "That's incredible. Most people need scuba gear to do that. But, you don't have like a computer or anything?" John asked, intrigued even more, though he wanted to show Sherlock the photos he had, and he started to get up to go below deck. "I'll be just a moment, I'm going to get a photo album I have."

Stranger: "What's a computer?" Sherlock asked, more to himself than John, and nodded when he backed away, glancing around as he waited for him to come back with his pictures.

You: John furrowed his brow even more when he heard Sherlock murmur under his breath, though he still went down, grabbed the photos he had of him and old friends, and some of him and his buddies from the army. He soon came back up, smiling at the other man. "You know, you can come up if you want to. I'm sure it'll be easier to look at them, and I promise I don't bite."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed. "John, I'd love to, really, I would. But I can't. It's complicated." He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he could go up there with John and take him up on his earlier offer.

You: "You know, it might make me sound more suspicious, but I really promise I'm not a murderer," John told him playfully. "But really, I'm not going to pressure you to, but if you ever wanted to come up, you can come and go as you please, I'm not going to stop you," he assured him as he sat back down and flipped open the album, holding it out to Sherlock. "So the first section is filled with my friends and I in London, if you wanted to flip through."

Stranger: Sherlock took the album carefully, glancing through and gaping at the pictures. "John, this is amazing!" He exclaimed. The city , from what he could see of it in the pictures, looked fantastic, full of things to discover. It was a shame he couldn't go.

You: John smiled as he watched Sherlock's face as he went through the photos, how he seemed to light up at seeing everything. "There should be a bit of Paris after that, and then there are a few photos of Afghanistan towards the end," he added, watching the other man pour over the images.

Stranger: It amazed Sherlock how different the three places were from each other, when it was surely all just land. And even then, how different they looked from the beaches and islands Sherlock was used to. "Oh, it's all gorgeous! I wish I could see for myself." He reluctantly handed the album back, he'd hate for it to get wet.

You: John couldn't help but notice when Sherlock stretched up to hand the album back, that there were traces of scales on his hips. God, this really was too good to be true. He'd really just dreamed up a merman to talk to. Well, at least he didn't feel so lonely. "I'd love to take you, but I know you have your reasons to stay."

Stranger: "I hate my reasons." Sherlock crossed his arms, looking back at John who had a curious expression. But he wasn't acting violent, so for the time being, it didn't matter.

You: "I'm happy to chat with you, especially if it gives you some time to escape for a while," John told him softly. He wasn't sure what would happen if he commented on his observation, though for now, he decided to keep it quiet.

Stranger: "I suppose chatting will just have to do." Sherlock sighed, a little saddened, but he'd survive. "You're on the water now. Where are you going?"

You: "Well, I'm actually just sailing for enjoyment's sake. My therapist suggested I do something that would relax me, and I used to do a bit of sailing when I was younger, so here I am," John told him. "What about you? You must swim a lot of distance."

Stranger: "My island's really not that far from here. And there isn't much else to do, so, swimming." Sherlock shrugged. "What's a therapist?"

You: "A therapist is a bit like a doctor, but instead of fixing your body when it gets hurt, they help you fix your mind," John explained. If Sherlock really was a merman, then it would explain why he wasn't so familiar with everything.

Stranger: "Oh, that is interesting. Does everybody have a therapist?" Sherlock asked. His species was more isolated, spread out. He rarely saw much of anybody, really. Nor did he really know what a doctor was, but he picked that up from context.

You: "Not everyone. People mostly get one when they realise they need that kind of help. Though most everyone has a doctor," John told him with a small smile. "In fact, I'm one."

Stranger: "Really?" Sherlock smiled. "You fix people's bodies when they get hurt? How do you do that?"

You: "Well, it's a rather simplified explanation, but if someone has a bad cut for example, I can give them stitches and bandages so they heal better. And if someone gets sick, I can prescribe medicine that will help them fight off whatever illness they have," John explained with a fond smile.

Stranger: "Medicine." Sherlock repeated, resting his elbows against the side of the ship. "Tell me about that. How does that work?"

You: "Well, different medicines do different things. Like there are some that will help your body fight viruses and bacteria that make you sick. Others might help relieve pain. A lot of times, it's finding substances that work with someone's body to help address the cause of whatever's ailing them," John told him, hoping that made sense.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded slowly. He would have liked to know how they did that, but the information he had would do. "That's amazing."

You: "Thanks," John told him with a small smile as he took in the sight of the other. "It's wonderful to have someone to talk to out here."

Stranger: "I think so, too. I think I got lucky, considering you could have been anybody when I said hello." Sherlock chuckled. John could have been violent, rude, mean. But, instead he was nice.

You: "I'm just amazed you came all the way out here. You also have a very curious mind, which I think is wonderful," John told him with a smile in admiration.

Stranger: "Land is a very curious subject. Especially when I have so small a patch of it." Sherlock pointed out with a grin in return.

You: John smiled at that, giving a small hum as he gazed at the merman. He wondered vaguely what it might be like to swim with him, though he didn't want to seem too intrusive.

Stranger: Sherlock cocked his head, smiling faintly still. "What're you thinking about now?"

You: "To be honest, what it must be like to swim with you," John answered honestly. "I'm not sure I'd ever be able to keep up."

Stranger: Sherlock laughed softly at that, shrugging. It was probably a dangerous idea, but he'd had plenty of them before and survived. "Well, there's only one way to find out, really."

Stranger has disconnected.

#please come back #email me if you find this!#merlock #johnlock #johnlock rp #omegle rp #lost rp #mer!sherlock #sailor!john #this is so cute

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pxrtgasdace · 7 years ago

Note

▼

It was not even that late but everyone had already retired to bed save for Ace, Sanji and Zoro. Since the swordman was on watching duties, though, Luffy’s brother and cook were alone in the kitchen.

Seeing the insane pile of dishes waiting to be washed, dried and put away, and being polite, Ace offered the cook his help. Sanji dismissed it, not finding it fair that the guest should clean for the residents while they had a nice rest or post-dinner leisure in the rooms of their choice. With an exhausted and brave face, he tied his apron around the waist once again and lit a motvational cigarette.

“C’mon, we’ll be done faster if I help”

There was no way to argue against that fact. Sanji let down his guard and with a tired but grateful smile muttered ‘thank you’ between his teeth. The pair of them divided chores, Sanji doing the washing, Ace the drying and both storing the wares away according to the instructions of the master of the kitchen.

Like Ace had very wisely said, they got the work done in half the time it would take Sanji to do everything all by himself. They were free now and the night was still young.

Sanji wanted to thank Ace with more than two barely audible words, though, and considered getting a skillet out to make sweet crêpes with ice cream before a better idea occurred to him.

“Not even the Marimo knows of this” he said while opening a cupboard and rummaging inside for something that must be rather well hidden and alcoholic in nature, if a reference to Zoro was needed.

“You don’t have to keep the act around me, you know?”

“Hmm?” Sanji didn’t really get it at first but it didn’t take him long to understand what Ace was suggesting. “It’s my autopilot.”

Finally he found what he wanted and grabbed a bottle of wine out of the cupboard. There was a fancy label glued to it and its name was also fancy-sounding when Sanji said it out loud, not without a dreamy quality to his voice: this one bottle must be properly savoured by those whose taste buds could manage, which was why it was crucial for Zoro not to know of its existence - the bastard would rather drink it right out of the glass mouth than have it served on a glass in celebration of a special moment like it deserved.

“From the South Blue” The bottle was given to Ace for him to analyse the label while Sanji fetched them a couple of red wine glasses.

From the South Blue… Not from Baterilla but from some other island where vineyards were of economic importance. It still made Ace wonder… how close or how far could this island be from Baterilla? And that, of course, made him think of his birthplace and feel bad about not having yet paid it a visit.

“You don’t like wine?” The glasses clinked when Sanji placed them down on the table in front of them but it was the polite worry of someone who knows something’s wrong and doesn’t wish to put a toe out of line in Sanji’s voice that got Ace’s attention. The cook was smart and sensitive - two traits that made it very hard for lies to go unnoticed.

“Yeah, I do” It was not Ace’s favourite thing but if that meant having a good time with the cook, why not?

The two of them consumed the wine as it mainly should be, slowly and accompanied by a nice talk, though it probably deserved a cheese board for the tête-à-tête as well. It didn’t make much sense now and, the chef figured, it wasn’t that important. Unlike Ace, he already had to divide his mouth between the two pleasures, drinking and smoking.

Ace had always understood the cook to be a good listener and overall a pleasant person to chat with but he was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Sanji, the wine that loosened the tongue as it slipped inside the mouth and down the throat having nothing to do with it.

After a good while punctuated by more than a glass and more than a cigarette, Ace confessed to Sanji the thoughts seeing that bottle of wine had stirred in him, though there was much about the childhood he’d had and the one that life had taken from him he did not want to reveal to anyone, not even to the attractive and pleasant cook.

Sanji probably felt something similar about Ace, for he returned the other’s memories with some of his own while keeping himself protected in the same fashion, not blurting everything out. Though nothing too revealing, too spoiling was spoken out loud, the two men silently agreed they understood each other.

Fortunately, there were happier topics to talk about. Sanji wanted to know if Luffy had always been ‘like this’, as he knew him, and that caused Ace to tell him of some ridiculous stories of their pre-teenage years, as going even further back in time might prove a painful matter if Ace had to explain the present company all about Sabo.

He did not know whether Luffy had ever talked to his crew about Sabo but, judging from the fact no one knew of his fiery brother before meeting him in Alabasta, he figured not. Even if Luffy had dropped Sabo’s name here or there, he wouldn’t have told the story properly and quickly moved to whatever thing was currently stimulating his brain.

Sanji laughed so hard he had to hold his belly in place and Ace smiled at how lovely the cook was. Sanji really was a special guy and Ace already admired him a lot for surviving a troubled past - even without the cook being too transparent about it, Whitebeard’s Commander just knew better than what the other didn’t say. It was that kind of understanding two children of misfortune have, even if they can’t say how or why.

“Shit” The cook complained at his lighter refusing to perform its sole task.

“Allow me”, said the only man on board who could easily fix this.

Rubbing his thumb against his index finger as though in possession of a lighter, the skin acting as the spark wheel, a flame flickered above Ace’s index’s knuckle.

Sanji leaned in, his face closer to Ace’s than it had ever been even if the angle was far from ideal, and in that moment Ace saw how handsome the cook truly was as though he hadn’t realized it before, which indeed he had.

His coal eyes quickly searched for those lips, made prominent thanks to the cigarette between them and his cheeks found themselves a bit more saturated as he wondered how they would feel on his own.

More words and more wine. Now they really were misusing the drink, as the bottle was pretty much empty when it shouldn’t have served more than two glasses each. This was not how civilized people should consume such an exquisite beverage, yet Sanji didn’t seem to mind - his cheeks were pink like Ace’s but, though his speech was coherent and not slurry, his reason must be of a different nature. Ace figured the cook was not too used to alcohol or guessed he was but not in this quantity.

When Sanji needed help from his human lighter again, Ace provided him with fire all the same but, this time, the cook didn’t return to his initial position, seated with crossed legs and an arm over the back of the sofa, wining and lounging. This time, he kept himself close.

“Damn, those are some nice lips you’ve got there”

To Ace’s surprise, the comment came not from the voice in his head but from a voice that was not his own, though those were more or less the precise words going on in his head.

It had been Sanji. It was Sanji, looking a mix of inebriated with hot and bothered. So much it was hard to tell to what point he was in control of his tongue - or of his mind. Did he really mean what he said?

It was with great titillation that Ace saw Sanji scoot closer, support both hands on either side of him, lean himself over Ace and straddling him at last, his weight too close to Ace’s groin, not enough to hurt him but enough for him to feel a bit more aroused even if no external sign showed it.

Answering Ace’s silence, the cook added another nerve-wrecking remark. “I’d sure like to try them”

Then do. Ace half-expected Sanji to kiss him and fully wanted him to do so. Hell, any minute now and he might be taking the chance himself, and should things escalate even more, then let them. No regrets.

There were two strong smells about Sanji’s breath, none of them particularly pleasant. But while Ace would have ignored the everyday one, he could not do the same with that heavy alcoholic scent.

Sanji’s conscience was clouded and Ace, who in the lonely nights would have the word ‘monster’ whispered at himself, was still above taking advantage of anyone not in possession of themselves.

“I think you should go to bed now”

The clouded Sanji must have thought his words meant something else, a ‘we’ rather than a ‘you’ because he smiled and got closer, decided to kiss Ace as he’d threatened. Thankfully for both, that was when Sanji blacked out, head hitting against Ace’s chest and the butt of his cigarette uncapable of hurting a man made of fire.

With a sigh that was as loaded with relief as with the frustration of Sanji’s actions not being sincere as he would have liked, Ace embraced Sanji so as to get up and hoist the poor cook over his shoulder, a bit like he were a bag of flour.

The plan was to put Sanji in his cot and pretend nothing had happened, Sanji’s gentlemanly honour not needing to be soiled by an episode of being drunk and horny that had ended very harmlessly.

As such, he had not expected to find Zoro out and about, maybe on his way to the bathroom or the bedroom if his watch was done. The swordsman didn’t say a word but eyed both men - the standing one and the idle one - with suspicion.

To his horror, Ace joked about how tired the cook was and transferred him to Zoro’s arms. The swordsman panicked and told Ace to go do a nasty thing with himself but still didn’t let Sanji fall to the floor.

Ace just ignored the string of profanity from Zoro’s mouth. “You take good care of him”

Watching Ace walk away, Zoro had the feeling Luffy’s brother’s words were not limited to this night and not too friendly, either.

send me the sitting/straddling meme // quick answers or drabbles // accepting

#blackleg5932 #long post for ts #nsfw-ish #✕ set the world on fire [answer]#✕ and again you burn you just never learn [writing exercise]

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lilmissmousey · 8 years ago

Text

Stirrings (Denial (AKA: this is sooooo not a date prologue)

Bzzt.

Vegeta’s fingers stilled over his laptop keys, eyes sliding to his now illuminated phone screen.

It was her, “Hey hot stuff. What you doin’? ;)”

He grunted, rubbing the tired eyelids under his glasses. Vulgar woman. Had she no shame? He’d only been working at Capsule Corp for less than six months and she was already way to friendly. Didn’t she know he had better things to do? Like, hm, save their asses from a lawsuit recently filed by a rival company? Vegeta knew he should just ignore her, go back to typing and try to not think about aqua-colored eyes and slender legs, but Bulma Briefs was persistent.

The phone buzzed again: “I have sandwiches.”

“Why do I keep doing this to myself?” Vegeta wondered as he hit the elevator button to the lab. He shouldn’t give into her. He had way more productive shit to do than entertain a spoiled heiress. The song playing over the loud speaker was some kind of grating pop music, and it did not help in quelling his agitation. Huffing, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and leaned against the elevator wall. At least the dress code at Capsule Corp was lax. Suits were itchy.

The numbers flashing the descent of the elevator into the lower levels of Capsule Corp mocked him. Bulma’s private lab was in the basement, far away from the prying eyes of the other scientists employed here. While the “regular” people worked on mundane everyday things, Bulma’s work was top secret and hidden behind numerous keypads and doors. Every time he made the trip to the lab under her request he’d feel the increasing amount of nausea and primal surge to run as far away as he possibly could. Feelings were horrible, unnecessary things that only got in the way-

The elevator doors slid open, and there she stood, sub sandwiches in hand and beaming at him.

There was always that cliche moment in films where time stood still, the handsome protagonist locking eyes with a beautiful woman from across the room. The both of them knowing instinctively that this person would change their world forever. For Vegeta, this had happened the first time he’d ever met her.

And it only got worse every time she’d cross his path.

The air around elevator was heavy; Bulma was covered in grease, long blue hair piled on top of her head and held in place with a pen. Her lab coat was stained and open revealing a black tank top and blue denim shorts. She was a vision, the perfect woman…

Which is why Vegeta scowled and snatched the sandwich out of her hand, brushing past her shoulder and not giving her a second glance as he powered towards the lab door.

He heard her huff in agitation, her footsteps echoing in the hall behind him as she struggled to keep up with his longer strides, “UM, you’re welcome!”

“I didn’t ask you to buy me lunch.” He grumbled, still walking forward and already ripping into the wax paper keeping him from the sandwich.

A low whistle came from her direction. Vegeta paused, turning around with an annoyed stare.

Bulma was surprisingly close to him, within arms reach and she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, “I hate it when you go, but I love watching you leave. You should wear jeans more often.”

“Wha-damnit woman I’m going to sue you for sexual harassment!” Vegeta felt his cheeks flame red, “why do you insist on being so pervy? Have you no shame?”

Bulma laughed, “Not when it comes to you!” She reached up and gently pulled the glasses from his face, putting them on instead, “I didn’t know you wore glasses!”

Left eye twitching, he took back the eyewear and tucked them into his breast pocket, “Not that it’s any of your business, but my eyes get tired cleaning up all the messes around here.”

“Pffft,” Bulma rolled her eyes, walking past Vegeta and tapping her code into the keypad, “What I was going to say is that they make you look smart.”

“Well, of course they-Hey!”

Bulma giggled, waving him inside the lab, “Hurry up grumpy. I’m starving.”

He devoured the first sandwich within moments of settling himself on the swivel chair near Bulma’s desk, she already handing him a second one. She knew well enough by now that despite Vegeta’s shorter stature that he could eat anyone under the table. He’d had Ju Jitsu practice the night before and his hunger was especially fierce today.

Bulma’s own sandwich lay unattended beside her, still primly wrapped as she pulled a pencil out of her coat pocket and carefully followed the lines of the ruler she had placed against a large blueprint nearly engulfing her whole workspace. Vegeta chewed thoughtfully, eyes narrowed as he watched her work, “What’s that?” He asked around the mouthful.

“Hm? Oh, I made the modulator in the space pod too small. It wont accept the amount of wires needed to actually propel the dumb thing. I’m just adjusting the pod accordingly.” She continued to measure, her firm bare calves teasing him as she shifted footing.

“Hmpf, some genius.” He teased.

“Hey bucko,” Bulma wagged the pencil at him, still not looking in his direction, “it’s beautiful, stunning, amazing genius to you. And don’t you forget it.” she went back to the blueprint, getting absorbed into her work.

Vegeta was only slightly irritated. If she wasn’t going to engage with him, then why was he even here? She could have easily dropped the sandwiches off at his office, but no. Instead he was sitting in near silence watching the prodigy of Capsule Corp doodle. He had at least three pending lawsuits against this crazy company he had to deal with, and being treated like a personal assistant was definitely not in his job description. The anger within him was building, threatening to end his patience then and there until…

…She smiled at him.

He hadn’t caught her staring, didn’t even realize that she had stopped working to watch him.

Bulma tilted her head, a free tendril of aqua hair escaping her messy bun and brushing down her slender neck, “What?” She asked. Heart thundering, and before he could stop himself, Vegeta reached out and tucked that wayward lock of hair behind her ear. Bulma blinked, cheeks flushing an obscenely pretty shade of pink.

Clearing his throat, Vegeta crossed his arms across his broad expanse of chest and glared at the floor, “It was pissing me off,” he grumbled, “the hair, I mean. I’m going to buy you some proper hair clips so that way you don’t look like a damn mess. It’s a health hazard around here anyways.”

“O-oh,” Bulma smiled, “don’t worry about it. I’ve uh, got plenty of them at home. Thanks though. Nice to know you care.”

“I don’t!” Vegeta barked, surprising himself with his own level of volume, “It just, its-”

The damn woman snickered, shaking her head. That same tendril of hair came loose, almost taunting him to touch it again, “Whatever you say hot stuff.” She smiled at him again, and she went back to her blueprint, once again getting lost in her own mind.

How did he not piss her off? How did she even stand to be in his presence? There was a reason Vegeta was alone; and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t his fault most of the time. Now there was this beautiful woman (incredibly out of his league) who not only put up with his permanently aloof attitude, but had gotten him this job. He’d owned his own law firm, but it was really just a small studio in a shitty area of town. Business usually consisted of petty crimes and at least attempting to get reduced sentences for the scum of society. It really didn’t matter to Vegeta who he was representing as long as it paid the bills. He’d been called in for a gang deposition for the Icejin gang and somehow Bulma had heard about him from there. He was called into her fancy office wearing a second hand suit and had wanted to melt into the floor. From the way her father and other members had looked at him he was sure he’d be kicked out. Vegeta didn’t mince words, and had told the fifteen people sitting at that long interview table exactly how he felt about their methods of defending themselves.

Shitty. It was all shitty. How could they look themselves in the mirror when all they did was pay people out for lawsuits that were unjustified? How had they not gone bankrupt? Why was a company so willing to fail wanting to hire him? What was the point? A mouse fart could have been heard after his rant, the faces of all the old men at the table sallow and horrified.

He knew he’d done it then; had ruined his chances of ever having a good client.

Fuck.

Vegeta had turned to leave when he saw the blue haired woman standing in the doorway looking amused, “And where do you think you’re going tiger? You’re starting right now.”

“B-Bulma!” Dr. Briefs had stammered, “This young man had made it quite clear that he doesn’t wish to associate with us-”

Bulma’s blue eyes narrowed, and she peered around Vegeta’s shoulder to grin at her father, “Daddy, he is JUST who we need.”

“B-but princess-”

“Nice to meet you,” the woman had held her hand out to Vegeta, “I’m Bulma Briefs, co founder of Capsule Corp and head scientist. It’s a pleasure to have you as the newest employee. You’re office is down the hall, it’s the door right next to mine. You start immediately.”

Stunned, Vegeta shook her hand and she winked coyly, “Nice to have someone who will get things done. And you’re cute to boot.”

And that was how this whole crazy thing started. Because this certifiably insane, stunningly beautiful genius and business mogul had had given him a chance when all his life he’d been told no. They’re upbringings couldn’t have been more different, and yet here he was. Watching her work was like watching a painter, completely in their element. He had a thought that disturbed him and caused him pause, but was still not enough to stop him.

Vegeta pulled out his smart phone, pretending to check emails when in reality he was opening his camera app.

This was wrong. He could get in so much trouble. But if one day she got sick of him and kicked him out on the street and he never saw her again, he wanted to always remember her like this: Leaned over her desk, blue eyes fixated on her own genius taking shape and stunningly gorgeous despite not even trying. Vegeta hit the button and captured a single silenced photo before quickly tucking his phone back into his pocket.

Bulma kept working, blissfully unaware of what had just transpired. Vegeta pretended to glance around the room, then noticed the still unopened sandwich beside her. He knew she wouldn’t eat unless forced to at this point. Sighing, he stood and went to her side. Bulma glanced at him questioningly as he plucked the pencil from her hand, instead thrusting the sandwich into it, “Eat.” He said firmly. Blue eyes blinked, but Bulma obliged, finally sitting and unwrapping her lunch. Vegeta nodded, before turning and walking out of the lab doors.

He’d stare at that photo for minutes at a time in his office behind closed doors for the rest of the work day and even months after. It reminded him of her kindness, and it caused stirrings in his belly he didn’t know possible. There was no chance with her, Vegeta knew. So, this picture and dreams were all he had. He was okay with that. This single snapshot of a moment in time was his little secret. She’d never even know.

Besides, what harm could one little photograph do?

—

Here is is my friends; the prologue to Denial! Thank you all for the encouragement and kindness you have shown my stories. This is for all of you ❤️

#vegeta #lawyer vegeta #bulma #scientist bulma #vegebul #vegeta x bulma #dbz #dragonball z #au #mouse wrote a fic

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