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1kook · 5 years ago

Text

late fee

jeon jeongguk x (f) reader

summary: “Captain Underpants isn’t glorified by all the tryhards, so when I pick those books, you’re unknowingly more interested in me.” tags: f2l, flirty kook, jk’s obsession w/captain underpants, he’s a fuckboy but he’s a soft fuckboy dont get it twisted, campus boy crush jk(yes again), jk abuses the FuCK out of pet names, miss koo1aid actually writes some PLOT warnings: much flirting, nsfw bc of a lot of heavy petting, pussy eatin’, a lil dirty talk, very s l i g h t coochie sniffing, BUT!!! protected sex :) wc: 10.3k

i wrote another fic (applause) and the entire thing is based off my belief that jungkook 10000% would enjoy captain underpants books. not proofread bc i am a hermit and speak to exactly 0 ppl on here, que dios los bendiga

“Helloooo, sexy librarian,” Jeongguk says the moment he steps through the door, lopsided grin adorning his features as he swaggers over to obnoxiously lean against your desk. You can’t even pretend you didn’t see him, his presence so blaringly consuming, and evident in the way some dorky high schoolers glance over to gawk at him.

“What book are you checking out today, Jeon?” You muse instead, leaving your desk chair to head over to the stack of new books that needed to be stamped. As you turn, Jeongguk whistles at the sight, and you don’t even have it in you anymore to retort back the same way you would when he first started bugging you. “Also, are you aware that your copy of Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants is due tomorrow? It’s a dollar for every day it’s late—”

“You needn’t worry longer, baby,” Jeongguk interrupts, and the loud smack of a hardcover against the desk catches your attention. There lies Jeongguk’s Captain Underpants book, alongside the paperback copy of Beloved that has definitely seen better days.

You furrow your brows. “When did you check out this one?” You question, checking the spine to make sure the book belongs to your library. Much to your surprise, there’s no barcode on the side, and no stamp on the inside.

Your question goes unanswered as Jeongguk jumps into a full-length novella recapture of the hot frat party he’d been to last weekend, and how the Zeta Theta Psi guys knew how to party. That Jimin fellow that Jeongguk frequently mentions had apparently snorted a line of coke off their friend Seokjin’s broad shoulders just to prove his friend had godly proportions. It’s weird, but Jeongguk says it’s because you have to ride for your bros. You try to act uninterested, but Jeongguk’s a funny guy, really, and you can only hide so many chuckles with the sound of a stamp.

He’s in the middle of trying to cover up of one of his frequent trysts after accidentally exposing himself—”Don’t get it twisted, baby, I just took her upstairs to call her friend.”—when Namjoon comes out of the back room looking for you. He barely glances at your guest, before handing you a list of overdue books.

“Would you mind calling these people?” He asks, voice soft, just as everything else was about Namjoon. “They’re all a week past.”

“Yikes,” you say, eyes scanning over the list. Surprisingly, Jeongguk is still there, hovering over you as if waiting for you to dismiss him. “Do you mind, Jeon?” You say, channeling your best customer service voice. As much as Namjoon was wary of him, he still considered Jeongguk a patron in your establishment and hated to see him treated poorly, no matter how many library rules Jeongguk broke.

“Of course,” he sighs, and you miss the hostile glare he throws Namjoon when you whirl around for a highlighter. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart,” he says when you turn back around, stretching ana rm in your direction.

Half of you knows exactly what he’ll do, but the other half of you, the one trying desperately to act like his advances have no effect on you, have you placing your palm in his. You’re not super surprised when he tugs your hand upward, pecking your knuckles with a flirty wink. “Adios, Juliet,” he smirks.

“Wrong language,” you inform him, rolling your eyes nonchalantly even though your heart is beating one hundred miles per second. Jeongguk cackles, loud as all hell in the silent library, before making his exit.

It’s silent for all of twenty seconds before Namjoon jumps right into it. “So are you seeing him, or…” he interrogates, trying to act like he’s hardly interested, but you’ve known and worked alongside Namjoon long enough to know he’s secretly the community gossip.

You ignore him, choosing to jam the buttons on the phone instead.

The weird thing about Jeongguk, was that, although he was notoriously known amongst the undergraduates (and even some graduates, because he just had it like that, you suppose) as one of the biggest fuckboys, he was different. Not to sound like every teen romcom you’d ever scanned, but he genuinely was. For starters, he’d fuck your brains out and then make you his best friend the morning after. He definitely had a very peculiar, and backwards, way of doing the whole one night stand thing.

All this you’ve gathered from your friends, who, at one point have had some sort of encounter with Jeongguk. Dahyun’s was last spring at a club event, when he’d oh so smoothly flirted with her for a solid hour before realizing she didn’t swing that way. Which is how they become close friends, which is how, by association, Jeongguk set his sights on you.

Your introduction to Jeongguk wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; he’d been tagging along behind Dahyun like a lost puppy, begging her for some class notes, and had subsequently followed her all the way to your favorite meeting place. From then, he’d dropped his petulant, childish act and put on his macho face, chest puffed and eyes hooded as he devoured your very presence.

The next time you see him, it’s at a frat party where some guy had been harping on you go upstairs with him. Another weird thing about Jeongguk, he hated when other fuckboys didn’t utilize their brains. You assume it’s because it gives the fuckboy community a bad rep as a whole, but Jeongguk hated when guys were overbearing. So he’d taken the initiative to snatch you away from that fellow, guiding you all the way back to Dahyun and friends just to make sure you were alright. Somewhere along the way, you’d informed him you worked at the local library—”The one that does bingo on Tuesdays?” “That’s for senior citizens only, why do you know that?”—and he’d never left you alone again.

This time, he spots you in the dining hall.

“You come here often, dollface?” He says the moment he slides up beside you, instantly zeroing in on the burrito wrap on your plate. Like the little immature baby he is, his hand immediately snakes out to touch the precariously wrapped white tortilla holding the deliciousness inside, and you have to physically slap the offender away. He jumps, bumping into a girl standing in line behind him, not that particularly cares. “So, it’s fuck Jeongguk hours, huh?” He huffs, adorning his face with that uppity glare he mastered from watching Mean Girls on repeat a few months ago.

“Your plate is stacked, but you wanna grab the one thing on mine,” you point out, and his lips curl into a smile at your response. “By the way, your book is past due.”

At this he gasps, all real, no Regina George effects added. “You’re lying,” he chokes, switching his plate to his other hand, and you nearly jump when the muffin balancing dangerously on top shifts. He tugs his phone out of the pocket of his sweats, scanning through his remind app until he sees that his book is overdue by three days. He groans, staring at the ceiling in shame.

You nod, breezing over his inner meltdown. “Was wondering when we were gonna get the wedgie winner, or whatever its called, back.”

He scoffs, giving you an unimpressed glare. “Wrath of the Wicked Wedgie Woman,” he corrects, looking so disappointed that you don’t have these bizarre titles memorized. “For such a pretty librarian, you sure are ignorant to these literary masterpieces.”

This makes you cackle, and your cheeks flush when at least three people turn to stare at your outburst. “You aren’t seriously calling these Captain Underpants books masterpieces,” you snort. Jeongguk shrugs, and you begin to wonder if he really is as airheaded as the characters he admires. “Jeon,” you try to reason, giving him a pleading look, because arguing the credibility of kids novels in line for lunch simply does not seem real. You must have been warped into another dimension where all pretty boys are as dumb as the movies make them out to seem.

“Listen,” he says, smiling when you grow desperate for him to prove you wrong. “I’ve read a lot of good books, but nothing tops a hypnotized superhero principal fighting crime in his underwear.”

You sigh, paying for your meal, and then, surprisingly, waiting for him to pay for his. You tell yourself it’s because you want to finish this conversation, but part of you just genuinely enjoys being in Jeongguk’s presence. Gag.

“I saw you with Beloved last week,” you carry on the second he’s done giving flirty eyes to the middle-aged cashier. “Now that’s a masterpiece.”

He nods in agreement. “But, baby,” he purrs, and the sudden switch from weird, 12 year-old literary enthusiast to grown as hell, suave bastard has you jolting a step that you try to play off by pretending to look at something on the ground. “How else will you remember my face?”

You blank. “What the hell are you talking about.”

Jeongguk gives you a pointed look. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t remember a damn thing about me if I did what every other stuck-up bastard did trying to pick up chicks at the library.” You tilt your head in confusion. Jeongguk sighs. “If I went in every rainy Friday and checked out a Tale of Two Cities, or Oliver Twist, or some other Charles Dickens shit, you wouldn’t glance my way.”

“Do people still read Dickens?” You say instead, glossing over the fact that apparently Jeongguk’s visits were apparently blatant attempts to flirt with girls. Finally, you find a suitable spot at a long, dinner table so you don’t have to sit completely alone with Jeongguk.

“You know damn well better than I do that that those wannabe sophisticated books have waitlists.” He shoves half a pizza slice into his mouth, and you hate how your eyes immediately laser in on the strong movements of his jaw. “My point is,” he says through a greasy mouthful. “Captain Underpants isn’t glorified by all the tryhards, so when I pick those books, you’re unknowingly more interested in me.”

You cradle your burrito in your palms, rolling his words around your head for a bit. Jeongguk doesn’t particularly seem like he’s awaiting an answer, munching through the mountain of food on his plate as you revel in your thoughts.

It’s right when you go to take your first bite that you finally come to a conclusion. “But have you ever considered I’m interested in you because I think you’re funny?”

Silence. Jeongguk stares at you through his fringe, pizza slice slowly going limp in his hold as he absorbs your words. Before you know it, his ears flush red. He splutters. “I-You think I’m funny?” He asks, cheeks slowly growing rosy as well, and his lips quirk in a cute way to the side, as if he’s trying desperately to hide his excitement.

You nod, because it’s true, why would you lie? “Duh. You come in every week and just talk about your day, Jeongguk,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “I think you’re very interesting and entertaining without trying.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, and for the first time, you’re thrown off by how adorable this man looks, lips pressed tight to contain a smile from your compliments.

Realization hits you all at once, but you’ve long since trained in the fluid art of avoiding your emotions.

“There’s a party tonight,” Dahyun announces from her desk, not even bothering to glance at you when you return from the showers. You hum, not really that interested in whatever is going on this fine Thursday evening. You plop down at your own desk, starting your skincare routine.

Dahyun lets you relax in the soothing motions of self care for all of three seconds before she adds, “Jeongguk wanted to know if you’re coming.”

You press down too hard on the pump of your moisturizer, sending a large glomp onto the tips of your fingers. “That’s nice,” you say, trying to play it off, but you doubt Dahyun hadn’t heard the little spaz you had, or that she couldn’t sense the way your body immediately lit aflame at the mention of him and you in the same sentence.

She turns in her seat, and you catch sight of her in your mirror. You avert your eyes right away, because Dahyun had many talents, and her best one was reading your mind with a single gaze. You maintain an aura of unbothered and uninterested, finishing with the rest of your skincare.

Just when you think you’re safe, Dahyun pounces.

“Y’know,” she says, and you can hear the grin in her voice. “He hasn’t slept with anyone in almost a month. In fuckboy time, that’s the equivalent of two years.”

You roll your eyes, putting away your products before trying to busy yourself with anything else. “He probably has, but with people who know how to keep their mouths shut.”

Faintly, you hear Dahyun’s chair scrape against the carpet, and then suddenly she has you in a headlock. “Admit you like Jeongguk or I will throw your toothbrush into the toilet on the third floor.”

You choke, grappling her arms in an attempt to pry her off. “No,” you huff, switching tactics to tangle a hand in her silver locks. “Why would I confess to something that isn’t true?”

She shrieks when you give a sharp tug, sending her careening sideways against the foot of your bed, but not without taking you with her. “You are lying to yourself and to the entire librarian community, you sick fuck.”

You snort. “The fuck does Namjoon have to do with this?”

“He told me Jeongguk’s been bringing you Starbucks.”

Her reveal has you halting in your tracks, cheeks flushing at being exposed. “That gossiping fuck,” you seethe, finally loosening your grip on your friend. Somehow, you’ve ended up sprawled on the floor of her side of the room, nestled into the stupidly fluffy carpet she thrifted. She rolls onto her belly, propping herself up on her elbows to narrow her eyes at you.

“So it’s true,” she sighs. You shrug. “Well,” she claps her hands together. “Shimmy into that sexy dress from Windsor, we’re going out.”

You groan, rolling over in metaphorical agony. “Dude, I just washed my face. No way in hell, I’m putting on makeup now.” She considers your point for negative three seconds.

“The Glow Kit is in my bottom left drawer,” she announces right as she exits the room with her towel and shower essentials in hand.

The Glow Kit is in fact in Dahyun’s drawer, which is a little suspicious considering it’s the same one you thought you lost three months ago. Nonetheless, it never lets you down, and by the time you’re done with your makeup, you’re looking like a shimmering, little succubus in the hot dress from Windsor.

Normally, you and your self-esteem were rivals; never on the same page, always bickering, sworn enemies from birth. But right now, as you admire yourself in the closet mirror, you can’t help but marvel at how good you look in the slightly loose dress.

“Damn,” Dahyun says as soon as she returns, all fluffy in her towel. “You will fuck tonight, or else.”

“Hey, baby,” Jeongguk smiles at you the moment you walk in, hooded eyes raking over your body in an agonizingly slow manner. Dahyun chooses then to do her party trick—disappearing without a word.

“Hi…” you respond, voice meek in this party setting. There’s more people than you anticipated, which is weird because it’s a Thursday and surely some of these people have morning classes. You can’t comment, though, because you’re here knowing damn well you have an eight am tomorrow.

The music is blasting, so loud you can feel the bass shaking the floor, sending jolts up from your toes to your head with every beat. There’s people in every crevice of this household, some even taking refuge on the staircase leading up to the bedrooms. Someone brushes by you, and you instinctively step closer to the wall to avoid being in the way. You should have known Jeongguk would follow.

He ducks down to shout into your ear. “Wasn’t sure if you were coming tonight,” he tells you, right as one of his friends rushes by, thrusting a cup into his hand that Jeongguk doesn’t even stop to question. He takes a sip, then offers you some.

“Dahyun didn’t wanna come alone,” you lie, tentatively sipping from his cup only to realize it’s worse than any alcohol here: it’s Sprite. Jeongguk seems amused by your subtle disgust, immediately taking the cup back. You send out a light prayer for his stomach and his skin. “Aren’t you supposed to be out pulling hoes or something?” You say, trying to go for teasing and playful but missing by a mile.

Jeongguk grins. “Why would I do that when the only girl I want is right here,” he motions, and then does that cliche move where he places a hand by the wall behind you. The worst thing is, even though Jeongguk seems intent on pulling every cheesy act known to mankind, your heart actually races.

“Shut up,” you laugh, “you just like that I don’t charge you the late fees on your books.”

At this, Jeongguk genuinely smiles, nose scrunching up as he gazes at you. “False,” he argues, and then leans forward, same stupid dopey smile on his face. “I love a woman who snorts milk out of her nose.”

“Jeon!” You shriek, smacking his arm as embarrassment washes over you. “You said you would forget about that!”

Jeongguk cackles, all boyish and rough like he does when he’s around Hoseok for too long. Somehow, knowing you’re the cause of that charming laughter has your annoyance fading away, a soft smile crawling onto your features.

“I hate you,” you say instead, looking up and meeting his gaze dead on for the first time that night.

Jeongguk smirks. “Do you now?” He throws back, then takes a step forward. Your shoulder touches the wall when you take a tentative step back. You give a half-assed shrug, entranced by the playfulness that lurks behind his eyes. He gives you an exaggerated pout. “That sucks, because I,” he steps closer again, and this time he’s looking down at you over the bridge of his nose, “really like you.”

“I…” you trail off, too hypnotized by the pink tongue that swipes across his lips as he gazes at you. There is no hesitation on his face.

When you don’t say anything for another moment, Jeongguk ducks down. His nose bumps against yours, his breath warm as it fans across your face. “Y’know, I’d treat you so right,” he suddenly says, and your panties immediately turn into Niagara Falls at the newfound deepness of his voice. You feel lightheaded from his close proximity and promising words. “Could make you feel so good, baby, if you just let me.”

You shiver, nearly jumping out of your skin when a hand snakes its way around your waist, tugging you forward gently. Not overbearingly, because you know the last thing Jeongguk would ever do was want to make you uncomfortable. He pulls you close enough that it ends up being you who steps completely into his embrace. Your trembling hands find their place on his shoulders, and Jeongguk has never looked more content.

“You... only want sex,” you softly accuse, and the only reason your quiet voice doesn’t get lost in the noise is because of how close the two of you are.

Jeongguk bites his lip at your words, and you wonder if part of him is surprised that you’d so openly say such a thing. “Not with you,” he says eventually. “Wanna hold you like this forever, ___. And if that leads to you cumming on my tongue every now and then, well,” he smiles, “all fine by me.”

“Jeon,” you scold, scared that someone might have heard him.

“What?” He grins, pressing impossibly closer. His lip gives the slightest pucker, and you find yourself unconsciously leaning closer, the hand around your waist tightening. “I want you, baby.”

You can’t hide the lovestruck expression on your face as you look between his mouth and his eyes, and you wonder if he’s being honest.

Right as you’re about to throw all your doubts out the window and kiss him, you’re bombarded with the sound of obnoxious air horns from a DJ who obviously knows shit about, well, DJ-ing.

You jump at the sudden sound, bumping your head against the wall behind you. Jeongguk’s eyes widen. “Oh shit, are you okay?” He fusses, all traces of that suave, heartthrob replaced with a fretful Jeon.

“I’m fine,” you say, though you’re not because you’re absolutely dying right now. From the fact you almost gave into Jeongguk but also the embarrassment of hitting your head. “I-I need to find Dahyun,” you announce, and give Jeongguk no time to process that before you’re bolting into the crowded house like you just broke something.

jeon tell me you got home safe jeon please

You pause in the middle of removing your makeup, one eyelash on to symbolize the mess you are right now. Dahyun is humming some tune as she does the same, the both of you clad in your pajamas and fuzzy socks. Carefully, you pick up your phone.

you im home! me and the girls ubered home lol you sorry i didnt get to say goodbye :(

jeon dont worry abt it babe jeon just happy to know ur ok

“You better be texting Jeongguk, since you failed to complete the one job you had tonight,” Dahyun calls and you curse. You whirl around to face her, and she snorts at your one eyelash.

“Be honest,” you say. “If you were the campus crush who could get coochie every time he breathed, would you leave all that for me?”

Dahyun freezes. “Well, not when you’re only wearing one eyelash.” You groan, flopping into your seat uncomfortably. “Babe,” Dahyun sighs, as if sensing the gravity of your dilemma. “You’re hot! Everyone knows this except you.”

“But am I?” You whine. “Am I attractive or do you just feel obligated to say that because you’re my friend, be honest.”

“Oh my god,” she huffs, climbing into her bed, phone in hand. She doesn’t even bother looking your way when she’s all settled in. “You have this weird idea that Jeongguk is some intangible idol, as if you haven’t seen the dude deepthroat an entire bratwurst at the diversity fair. If anything, you’re the dream girl on campus, you stupid bitch.”

“The only true thing I heard is me being a stupid bitch,” you mope, and Dahyun throws a pillow at your face. You take this attack as initiative to finally take off your other lash, finishing your cleansing and moisturizing (for the second time) routine.

“Listen,” she says, setting her phone down to stare you dead in the eye. Her voice is devoid of any emotion. “If it makes you feel better, he wrote JK + __ on our group handout last week.”

You don’t sleep that night.

The last person you’re expecting to see at this secluded cafe on a Saturday morning was Jeon Jeongguk, yet here he was in all his delicious morning glory. By morning glory, you mean the soft, sleepy eyes that stare at you from across the table, voice so deep and husky.

“Why are you here if you just woke up?” You interrogate, settling into the empty seat in front of him. Carefully, you begin pulling things out of your bag, trying your best to not look away too long. This sight was rare, Jeongguk usually being at an energy level of about eighty seven at all times. To see him so tired and sluggish was unheard of.

He gestures over to where Taehyung is in the middle of what looks like a job interview. “Moral support,” Jeongguk informs you. You nod in understanding, before returning your gaze to the sleepy angel in front of you.

He’s ridiculously tired, eyes dropping shut every time you so much as pause for a second. He seems apologetic too, murmuring I’m sorry I’m sorry whenever his eyes flutter shut. Your heart was going haywire at the sight. “Jeon,” you say softly, and get one, soft hum in response. “I think you should go home, Taehyung seems fine.”

He shakes his head. “Needs me,” he murmurs, trying desperately to snap his eyes back open to no avail. Eventually, you make the call, packing your things up way earlier than usual. You haul Jeongguk out of his seat, him sleepily trailing after you as you drag him out of the shop. He sleeps on the short bus ride back to campus, and even almost sleeps on the elevator up to his dorm.

“In we go,” you announce, unlocking his door before nudging him inside. His roommate is nowhere to be found, oddly enough given the early hour. Jeongguk stumbles inside, plopping down on his bed right away. “Sleep.”

He lets out a high pitched whine the moment you turn to leave. “Come cuddle,” he huffs, face pressed against his pillow. His hair’s haloed around him, pout smushed against the cushion as he stares at you.

“You need to sleep,” you point out.

He rolls onto his back, patting the mattress beside him. “Wanna feel you,” he says. Your cheeks flush red. As if realizing the meaning behind his words, sleepy little Jeongguk takes the initiative to push you further. “Pressed against my body,” he drawls, his deep chuckle resonating throughout your body. “C’mon, baby, too scared to be in bed with me?”

You scoff, though your cheeks are warm. “You wouldn’t do anything anyway, you’re half asleep.”

Jeongguk shrugs, lips quirking to the side as he motions to his side again. “So? Can tell you like it slow anyway,” he grunts, before sitting up and shuffling to the edge of the bed and assuming a sitting position. Without warning, he catches your wrist in his hand and tugs you between his spread thighs.

He’s more awake than he’s been all morning, and part of you is happy but the other is anxious. God, was this boy dangerous.

“You’re half asleep, Jeon,” you say, trying to diffuse the sudden sexual tension. Jeongguk smiles up at you.

“Cmon, baby,” he exhales, and one fluid tug has you plopping onto his thigh. You startle at the sudden change, grabbing onto his shoulders for support. All he does is laugh some more, nuzzling his face against your neck as your heart goes into panic mode. “Bet I could get in so deep,” he murmurs, breath tickling your neck and you feel your legs turn to jelly.

“G-Gguk,” you try to warn, but it ends up sounding more like a plea. For what, you’re not entirely sure.

A sudden kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder has your spirit ascending into another plane. Jeongguk smiles at your pliant body. “Look at you,” he continues, kissing down your neck until your body is physically quivering. “So sensitive. No one ever touched you like this before, doll?”

You shake your head no, and nearly jump out of your own skin when a hand clasps onto the inside of your thigh. “Jeon, we shouldn’t…” you choke out, even though your traitorous hand clamps down on his and pushes it closer to where you need him most.

“We shouldn’t?” He teases, and then cups your sex.

You transcend.

Jeongguk laughs, airy chuckles fanning across your jaw. “Then stop,” he tells you, the both of you watching as your hips unconsciously grind into his palm. Even when you tell yourself you need to stop, your body feels heavenly being touched by him, so you physically can’t.

“I can’t,” you reiterate, and muffle a moan against the side of his face when he presses a finger down on where he knows your clit is hiding. The thin leggings you’d worn did nothing to spare you.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he sighs, watching you work yourself on his hand. He traces his index finger over the seam of your leggings, where your folds meet and you moan again. “You gonna let me finish you off, princess? Gonna let me finger your tight little pussy until you cry? But I bet you’d make the prettiest noises if I licked you down there. Or are you gonna cum in your panties like this?”

All the different ideas he stuffs into your brain are overwhelming, especially when the only thing you really want is to be stuffed with his fingers and cock. “J-Just do it,” you beg.

“Do what?” He plays, watching the way your face contorted with every brush against your mound.

“Whatever you want,” you cry, biting down on your fist to stop any more noises from spilling out.

Jeongguk smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Such a simple gesture, but it has your stomach somersaulting. God, you needed this. You were practically sobbing for his dick, which was embarrassing in itself, but actually getting dicked down sort of cancelled it out. PEMDAS or whatever.

Just as his hand creeps to the hem of your leggings, there’s a rattle of the doorknob, and you jump. The cloud of lust that had engulfed you two fades away and you’re suddenly aware of the jingling of a key outside.

“What the fuck,” Jeongguk whisper-shouts, looking absolutely scandalized that his roommate is coming home at this moment of all moments.

“Should I hide?” You whisper back, never having been in such a situation before. Jeongguk looks at you like you’re stupid.

“Just,” he sighs, standing up. He ruffles his hair anxiously. “Just… act natural.”

You sit perfectly still. “Not like a Sim!!”

“Captain Underpants and the Invasion of the Incredibly Naughty Cafeteria Ladies from Outer Space (and the Subsequent Assault of the Equally Evil Lunchroom Zombie Nerds),” you read, gasping for breath by the end of it. Jeongguk beams at you. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope,” Jeongguk says, leaning over the counter and watching as you scan his book under his name. “I’ll let you know how it is.”

You roll your eyes, writing down the return date on a piece of paper you stuff inside. “Please do, I’m absolutely dying to read this book.”

You hand the book over to Jeongguk, and try to ignore the way he stares at you for a second too long. Namjoon chooses this exact moment to take his lunch break, sauntering off whistling the the Angry Birds tune.

Right before Jeongguk can jump into an interrogation, the door swings open and Jisoo from your sociology elective saunters in, carrying the same mountain of books you had checked out for her two weeks ago.

“___, hi!” She exclaims right away. She, too, was infected with the same bimbo disease as Jeongguk, the one where they both had no concept of being quiet in a library.

“Hi,” you greet back, immediately standing to take the books from her. “Did you actually read through all of these?” You ask, trying to make polite small talk. You’re not particularly close to her, but it’d be rude to act like you didn’t know her.

She laughs at your comment. “Oh god, no. I just open random pages and reference them for essays,” she admits.

You try to make more small talk with her as you scan through her books, but the girl literally almost hit the material limit, which is fifty books, so you soon become consumed in scanning the barcode, briefly flipping through the book for any damage, and then repeating it all over. You’re not surprised when she drifts away, and you’re mentally cursing Namjoon for going on break now of all times.

It’s about ten minutes later when you’re all done, the computer’s library system going haywire on you, the same way it had when she first checked out all these books. You look away from the screen, standing to face Jisoo, only to find she’s drifted to the other end of the welcome desk, where a certain someone had gone to while you served her.

Oh.

You’re not anticipating the wave of jealousy that hits you watching gorgeous, smart Jisoo talk to Jeongguk. She matches him perfectly, both so beautiful it hurts. It’s when she says something to him that you snap out of it. “When can I come over again?” Soft enough that you wouldn’t have heard if you hadn’t been paying attention.

Jeongguk’s toying with a bookmark stand, but you still see the quirk of his lips on his face when she says that.

All you can do is watch from the sidelines, so close yet somehow miles away as he says something back to her that gets drowned out by the thundering of your heart. You suppose it’s only natural for a guy like Jeongguk to flirt with girls, and he’d never said he only, exclusively wanted you. Really, you shouldn’t be as surprised.

But you are.

You’re surprised and, dare you say it, discouraged by the scene. He’d been so eager to finally win you over the other night, so much so that he made you feel special with every word he uttered and every look he gave you. You’d almost believed in his sincerity, but seeing him so easily converse with Jisoo about whatever past they have, served as a cold reminder that you and Jeongguk believe in two completely different relationship styles.

So you sit back down, gnawing on your lip as you try to do other duties, clicking around uselessly on your computer until eventually, Jisoo wanders back.

“Am I all set?” She smiles, and you can’t even find it in you to dislike her. You plaster on your best customer service smile, nodding and handing her back her library card. She thanks you three times over for the hassle, before waving goodbye to you and Jeongguk.

When the door falls shut behind her, you immediately drop the facade, though Jeongguk doesn’t seem to notice. “Whew. She left a lot of work for you,” he laughs, eyeing the big stack beside you. You don’t even bother responding, as, at that moment, Namjoon returns from his lunch break.

(How convenient! You swear this fucker had a sixth sense for knowing when work was about to become hard.)

“Joon, I’m taking my break now,” you announce, and Namjoon stares at you like a deer in headlights, the last bite of a sandwich raised to his mouth.

“Uh,” he says, 140 IQ and all. He glances behind you at Jeongguk, who also is confused as all hell. “Okay, then.”

“___?” Jeongguk questions. You stalk off, pushing the gate away from the desk before bursting into the employee break room right across from it.

You cry the moment you get home, and Dahyun jumps ten feet out of her bed in shock. Her girlfriend, Momo, is sitting on the floor painting her toes. “Oh no,” she cries, sweet and understanding in all the ways Dahyun wasn’t. “My poor baby, what’s wrong?” She asks, waddling over in the my-nail-polish-hasn’t-dried-yet way to hug you.

“He was flirting with another girl,” you sob, dropping your bag by the door as Momo continues fawning over you, wiping your face with tissues. Dahyun gets out of bed, cracks her fingers, and promptly announces:

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Initially, you would have let her. But after a while you manage to calm down, loud Kim Kardashian sobs fading into tiny hiccups as the two of them coddle you. You tell them all about what terrible, good for nothing Jeongguk did, and in true female solidarity, they vow to kick his ass for you. Eventually, you settle on not whooping his ass, just cutting any romantic notions with him off to avoid further heartbreak. After all, you were kinda friends before you had your little crush revelation.

It’s later in the night when you announce you maybe got 2% over him, which the girls count as an absolute win, but then Jeongguk texts you and they groan at the way you jump for your phone.

jeon hey can we talk ? jeon did I do something wrong today? jeon felt like u were mad at me lol, and then u took a really long break and I had to leave for class so I didn’t even get to see u again jeon just wanna know if everything is ok

You read through the messages a couple times, and wonder if he’s being serious and didn’t see anything sus with his actions, or if he’s just toying with your emotions. Momo tugs Dahyun away to give you some sort of privacy, and then you’re left alone in your thoughts.

you everything’s fine ! you I just wasn’t feeling well lol

He responds right away.

jeon please don’t lie to me ___ jeon I know what you’re probably thinking and I just want to say it’s not like that

For some reason, him saying he knows you enough to know your thoughts irritates you. He obviously didn’t know shit about you if he was out here making you look like a clown. Your fingers type before you can even think.

you lmao you thats funny

jeon ?

you you most def do not know what I’m thinking so please just take my word when I say I felt sick

jeon lmao. what do you mean...

you you barely know ME besides the fact I work @ the library and dorm w Dahyun. don't say u know what I’m thinking, bc that would imply you know me on a closer level which you don’t

jeon ok seriously what's up with you? jeon im trying to make sure ur okay but ur just being difficult as fuck

you I’m not being difficult I’m just being real

jeon ur not tho, ur being defensive for no reason at all

you so? we’re barely friends and we barely know each other, how I feel is none of ur business

jeon lmfaoooo, so now we’re barely friends?

you thats what I said didnt I

You set your phone aside when you don’t immediately see the texting dots appear, assuming your dry response is probably enough to ward Jeongguk off. Your face feels warm, and you’re not sure if it’s from frustration or anger, but you guess it’s both. You’re not sure what set you off, the fact Jeongguk wants to act like he knows you, as if he wasn’t just chasing after you for some pussy, or the fact he wanted to act like some all-knowing being when it came to your feelings.

Eitherway, you’re extremely heated, grinding your teeth together when five minutes pass and he hasn’t texted you back. As if sensing the tension, Momo and Dahyun abruptly announce that they’re going to the ice cream place down the street, offering to bring something back to which you decline.

They leave, the heavy door slamming shut behind them. You get exactly two seconds of peace and quiet before your phone starts going off like crazy, all from Jeongguk.

jeon you’re starting to piss me off jeon drop the attitude baby. jeon bc I can be just as mean as u jeon and I won’t hesitate to make you cry

You blink. Every ounce of your body that had been consumed with an unknown anger slowly fades away as you stare wide eyed at Jeongguk’s messages. This was nothing like the Jeongguk you knew; he was soft and playful. He never raised his voice at you, and he’d never been anything less than a sweetheart.

you I don’t have an attitude

Is your feeble reply, too scared to reply to any other part of his message because you truly had no experience with this Jeongguk.

jeon so then put your big girl pants on and tell me what’s wrong jeon enough w this other shit

You sigh, snuggling into your covers as you absentmindedly tap the back of your phone.

you nothing is wrong

He doesn’t reply for a couple minutes again, but Dahyun sends you a text letting you know her and Momo decided to go to an event on the other side of campus, and telling you not to wait up. You reply back a simple ok right as Jeongguk responds.

jeon ok. so let me tell you what’s wrong then jeon you’re mad bc I was speaking to Jisoo today and she asked abt coming over jeon she comes over all the time jeon bc she is my roommates girlfriend

Your mind goes blank.

How embarrassing to have your mind read word for word, even more so when apparently, your worries weren’t even plausible. God. Instantly you feel stupid, replaying today’s entire scene and trying desperately to find something to catch Jeongguk in a lie. But other than asking that one question, there had been no other interesting talk between the two.

Your phone pings again, and you scramble to type a response, only to freeze at the words on the screen

jeon what blows me is that i don’t even owe u shit especially not an explanation jeon u don’t give 2 flying fucks about me. U just like the attention I give u and watching me make a fool of myself for u jeon I bend over backwards chasing after you, trying to get you to notice me, but you’ve done nothing to show me u feel the same jeon but you’re the one allowed to get mad when I speak to other girls? like u said “ that’s funny ”

Oh, no. Immediately your heart comes crashing down, and your fingers tremble as you watch Jeongguk slip away right before your eyes.

you Jeongguk you it’s not like that please you I like you so much, it’s just hard for me to

jeon to what? Get over your stupid stereotype of me?? jeon lmfao. Yeah that must be sooo hard jeon it’s whatever tho bc I had one of u too jeon my dream girl

This is not what you expected when he said he’d make you cry.

“Honey, you just have to talk to him,” Momo says the next morning, pressing a cucumber slice onto your eyes. You flinch at the initial iciness, but then relax when she brushes your hair out of your face. You’d gone to sleep a wreck, crying and sobbing as you thought desperately on how to win Jeongguk back, but everything he had said was true.

You’d done nothing but reject him since the beginning, had only just begun treating him as a friend, yet you instantly placed the blame on him at the first signs of trouble. God, he was right. You’d been selfish this entire time, and now he wasn’t responding to your messages anymore.

Dahyun nods from her cocoon at the foot of your bed. “I’m sure it’ll be easier in person, text convos are always weird,” she tries to comfort you. “But keep those slices on, those bags under your eyes are no joke.”

Momo smacks her calf. “Be nice! She’s going through a crisis.”

Right as you’re about to pay for your meal and sprint back to hide in your dorm, you spot a coconut head of hair facing the windows in the far corner of the dining hall. Fuck. Faintly, you can hear Dahyun’s voice shouting for you to stop being a pussy and go talk to him. You pause by the exit, one leg in one leg out, before saying fuck it. If worse comes to worse, you transfer schools and live with heartbreak and three cats for the rest of your life.

“I-Is someone sitting here?” You say before you can chicken out, and mentally curse yourself for stuttering. Oh, the social horror.

Jeongguk visibly jumps at your voice, wide doe eyes staring at you as if he expected to never see you again. After all, it’s been a week since your little fight, three days since you last tried texting him. He shakes his head, turning his attention back to his plate, but not before tugging the hoodie of his sweater over his head in a classic self defensive tactic.

You slide into the seat, staring at the plate of food like you’ve never seen it in your life, never mind the fact you picked it out less than fifteen minutes ago. You accidentally scrape your fork against the bottom, and the both of you cringe.

Jeongguk clears his throat, hands clasped together between his thighs as he stares out the window. “Don’t you have work?” He asks, voice raspy.

You shake your head. “I took the week off,” you confess, hoping he doesn’t press for more, because then you’d have to tell him your reasoning was due to heartache.

“Oh. That’s nice,” he says, and then you fall into a pit of awkward silence.

You push the food around on your plate, hoping he’ll say something, anything to save the two of you. In the end, he stays silent, sleepily glancing out the windows.

When you look closer, though, Jeongguk doesn’t look much hot than you. He’s got the same bags as you under his eyes, and his hair looks messier than his usual messy style. The fact he’s wearing his blue crocs out in public only confirms your theory.

After a solid five minutes of silence, even your hungry stomach managing to stay quiet, you decide enough is enough.

You shift ever so slightly, until you’re somewhat facing him and clear your throat; Jeongguk barely spares you a glance. “The Preposterous Plight of the Purple Potty People,” you blurt. Jeongguk blinks, face slowly morphing into one of confusion. Your cheeks feel hot under his gaze, having missed his brown eyes in the past week. “It’s your favorite one,” you announce. “Of the Captain Underpants books.”

After a moment, Jeongguk snorts, turning his attention away from you. “You’re not gonna win me over with that,” he says curtly, and your heart tightens at his emotionless tone of voice.

But you’ve done your research, and you’re not letting it go to waste. “You like George more than Harold because you think he contributes more. You love the characterization of Mr. Krupp the most, but you hate his theme song. You think the cover art could use some work, but you enjoy the overall art style. You hated the movie adaptation because Kevin Hart was in it,” you list, recalling every bit of information you’ve ever heard Jeongguk share about the stupid novels.

There’s a small quirk in the corner of Jeongguk’s lips, but it’s not the one you’re aiming for, so you switch tactics. “You hate the smell of bananas because you don’t think it should have a smell. You can’t put your left sock on first, because it’s bad luck to you. Your mom still washes your sheets for you. You know the lyrics to the original Dragon Ball series in three languages. You like wearing rings because it makes you feel like a pimp. You hate when Hoseok calls you the baby, because, according to you, you bench press his weight times two.”

“And a half,” he softly corrects, gazing at his hands, cheeks slightly tinged with red. You bite your lip, tentatively reaching a hand out to place on his arm. He looks at you right away, doe eyes so vulnerable and scared, like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

“I said we barely knew each other, but that was a lie,” you chuckle humorlessly, suddenly feeling your eyes tear up just remembering the conversation. “I know so much about you because I love listening to you talk. I love hearing your voice, and watching you wrestle with your friends, and fight with Dahyun. But I never tell you,” you bite your lip, blinking your eyes to backtrack the tears.

“And you’re right, I made you do all the work and I’m sorry, but I’m just so scared, Jeongguk,” you admit, voice cracking on his name. Your press a hand over your mouth, trying to collect yourself. Suddenly, a soft hand gently pats your thigh, and you find yourself reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “You can have anyone, Jeongguk, and you obviously know this,” you sigh. “I’m scared that I won’t be enough for you.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jeongguk says, voice soft in the way you’ve missed so much. His hand, shaky and unsure, reaches up to brush a tear from the corner of your eye. “Look at me,” he commands, and you do. “I think we’re both stupid, because I feel like I’ve never been enough for you,” he confesses with a chuckle you try to replicate through sniffles.

Suddenly, he’s close, forehead pressed to yours. “And maybe it’s true,” he says. “You won’t be enough for me, and I’ve never been enough for you.” Your heart aches at his words. “But that’s okay,” he assures, squeezing your thigh between his fingers. “We don't have to be right now, but we can try.”

You nod, clamping down a sob. “God, I hate how optimistic you are,” you laugh, and he smiles, cupping your face in his hands.

“And I hate watching you cry,” he says, fingers wiping your cheeks. Before you can say what you’re thinking, he’s snatching the words right out of you, “yes, I know I said what I said, and I felt like such a dick typing it, I made Jimin flick my forehead right after.”

You giggle, and he beams that dreamy smile at you again. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” he announces, and your heart thunders in your chest faster than the wings of a hummingbird.

And he does.

“I don’t know, I think Kevin Hart sounds great in this,” you mention, and you feel the hard scoff Jeongguk lets out from your position cradled on his chest. “It’s not the worst thing in the world,” you defend.

“You’re sick,” he says, then pauses the Captain Underpants movie to engage in your third debate of the evening. You’re barely fifteen minutes in. “You think that weirdo did George justice? How? In what world?”

“Babe, it’s just a voice actor,” you placate. “No one died because Mr. Hart voiced him.”

Jeongguk splutters. “Mr. Hart—you don’t know this man! And something did die! My hopes for a sequel!”

You shush him, pressing your index finger to his lips. “Enough complaints, Rotten Tomatoes. We won’t even finish at this rate.”

Jeongguk hits play, grumbling under his breath.

Just as you’d predicted, you don’t even make it to the halfway mark before Jeongguk’s got you on your back, plush lips working yours until they’re bruised, tongue halfway down your throat. “The mov—“ you mumble.

“Fuck Mr. Hart,” Jeongguk says, kissing down your jaw like he can’t allow himself to miss a single spot. When he reaches the collar of your shirt, he wastes no time tugging it off of you. You whine, instinctively covering your chest. “Don’t be shy,” he chuckles, “here, look-,” he tugs his sweatshirt over his head, and you’re met with the strong muscles of his abdomen and pecs, “-twins.”

You roll your eyes. “Just kiss me, Mr. Jeon,” you tease, wrapping your hands around him to bring him closer. He chokes, and mumbles something about saving that for another time.

Before you know it, he’s kissing between your thighs, soft lips producing the most erotic sounds with every smooch he gives. “Can I take these off?” he asks, one lone finger creeping beneath the hem of your panties, right where your hip is. You nod, biting your lower lip hard the moment he begins sliding them down. His hands are soft as they glide over your legs, and when he finally tugs them away from your ankles, he wastes no time nudging your legs open for him.

“Don’t just look at it,” you whine, jabbing his ribs with your foot. Jeongguk grins.

“Sorry I stare, you’re just so pretty,” he smiles, and you muffle an annoyed groan into your palms. “Gonna eat you out now,” he announces, finally, and you uncover your face to watch the way he lowers his mouth onto your throbbing pussy, pink tongue coming out to lick at your clit.

The first press of the wet muscle has your toes curling, back arched. You’d been craving this for the longest, and just as you’d expect, it’s better than any fantasy. “Right there,” you moan, reaching down to tangle a hand in Jeongguk’s wavy hair, the other fisting the pillow beneath your head.

Jeongguk absorbs all your tiny reactions, toying with your clit just how you like it. He rolls his tongue around it, making sure every part has been in his mouth at least once. When he suctions his lips around it and moans like this was getting him off, your body melts. “Fuck,” you cry out, your thighs quivering around his head. Part of you wants to slam them shut, hide from his tongue and all its devious ministrations. But the other part has never felt so good in your entire life.

When Jeongguk decides he’s pampered your swollen clit enough, he gives it one final kiss, wet and slippery. “Good?” He smiles up at you, lips slick with your juices. You nod, probably already looking fucked out. He smirks at your response, and your heart backflips in your chest, when he reaches up to knot your fingers together.

He kisses your knuckle and you whine. “How many fingers do you want?” He asks, and you blurt out the first number you can think of.

“Eight,” you choke, and immediately flush in embarrassment afterwards.

Jeongguk laughs, dropping his head to your thigh in a fit of giggles. He looks absolutely ethereal there, soft brown hair sprawled across your skin like an angel. “Smaller numbers, baby, please,” he chuckles. You shrug, so he decides for you. “How about I just use my tongue instead?” You think you might love him.

He settles back down, lips pressing against your mound one final time, before he’s diving in. You mewl right away, body becoming one with the mattress beneath you at the first brush of his tongue.

“Oh, Jeongguk,” you gasp, hands burying themselves in his scalp again. He hums in response, and the sound has every nerve in your body lighting up. His tongue prods against your folds, slowly licking his way deeper and deeper into your cunt.

The worst comes when he sighs against your pussy, literally sighs, like he’s so blessed to be there. “You’re s-so good at this,” you cry out, trembling fingers twisting his hair so tightly that you manage to pull him off just an inch. He pinches your thigh in warning, before stuffing his tongue into you again, absolutely plunging into the depths of your hole.

Just when you think he couldn’t possibly outdo this, he jolts up suddenly, nose brushing against your clit. His eyes go wide for the slightest second, as if he really hadn’t planned that, before flickering at you.

To your utter embarrassment, he takes one long whiff, eyes rolling to the back of his head in pleasure.

He pulls away from your dripping hole. “You smell so fucking good,” he informs you, spreading a fiery blush across your cheeks.

“Thanks?” You say, and he grins, shuffling onto his knees all of a sudden. You mope the loss of his tongue on your pussy, but forget about it the second he reaches for his desk and returns with a condom.

He tears the foil packet open with gentle hands, eyes weirdly zeroed in on that only. You nudge his hip, and when he meets your gaze, he instantly averts it. Like he’s suddenly shy.

Oh he was gonna be the death of you.

You tug his boxers down and get to revel in more of those bashful glances, but you soon forget about that when he grips his rock hard member in one hand, jacking it to its full potential. “Ready?” He says, one hand gripping your hip, the other his cock. You nod, and then shift up onto your elbows to watch him sink into you.

You can barely keep your eyes open, the second the tip of his cock brushes against you your eyes roll back into your head. You moan, letting yourself flop back against the mattress, chest heaving with each inch he sinks in. “Fuck, you’re big,” you cry, biting down on your fist.

Jeongguk chuckles. “Yeah?” He grunts, and then stills as he waits for you to catch your breath. He gives you exactly four seconds before he’s thrusting the remainder of the way in.

Your back arches off the bed, a high-pitched moan ripping itself out of your throat. “Jeon!”

“Relax, relax,” he croons, releasing your hip to lean over you, peppering your face in kisses. You’re heaving for air, so overwhelmed with emotions. “You’re doing so good for me, doll,” he comforts, kissing every inch of you until you regain your wits. “So wet and warm for me, you have no idea how bad I wanna just ram my cock into your tight, little pussy.”

You huff, heart still skipping by the time you grow familiar with the sheer size of his dick inside of you. When you’ve finally come back down to earth, eyes fluttering at Jeongguk, he gives you one affirmative nod before he begins really fucking you.

He starts carefully, like he’s afraid he’ll break you with one push. You’re thankful that he’s at least somewhat aware of his own bear strength, but you’d prefer if he picked up the pace. Before you can file a complaint, he’s hiking your thigh up onto the crease of his elbow, and ramming himself into you.

“Could already hear some smart ass comment coming,” he groans, snapping his hips into you with a newfound intensity. You moan, trying desperately to reciprocate some movements back.

“Wasn’t gonna say anything,” you gasp, fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders, scratching lone lines down his back. Jeongguk snorts, pushing in, and then grinding your pelvises together deliciously.

He rolls his eyes, then chooses that exact moment to capture your lips in his. You groan softly, body boneless beneath him at the gentle way he kisses you, like his entire life depends on this single kiss.

When he finally releases your lips, he’s huffing against your mouth, hips having not stopped a single time. You know he’s tired and so riled up; you’d felt the brush of his half-hard member from the moment you first laid down to watch the movie.

But Jeongguk was a gentleman, through and through. You’d felt the brush of his cock, and heard the thundering of his heart, but he hadn’t pushed you further a single time. He basked in your presence, waiting until you crept your hand beneath his shirt to finally pounce.

“I’m close,” you tell him, reaching down to toy with your clit. Jeongguk had treated it like the finest treasure earlier, but now your gentle caresses feel mediocre compared to the way he’d touched it. Jeongguk nods, the tips of his wavy hair sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck. You abandon your quest to finish yourself off and focus on brushing his hair away from his face. “You’re so good to me,” you moan, lightly picking the corner of his mouth. “Don’t deserve you.”

He rams his cock into you, the arm not holding up your thigh weakening, until he’s leaning on his forearm over you. “Don’t say that,” he chokes out, and you wonder if his orgasm is as close as yours.

A particular brush of his cock against your cervix has you seeing stars, thighs clenching around him. “Just a little bit—more,” you beg, body writhing beneath him, pushing yourself up to meet his thrusts.

“So perfect,” he praises, kissing along your jaw. “Come for me, baby.”

You nod, but not before cupping his face in your hands, and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He makes a soft little sound of surprise, smile pressed against your mouth, and the heat in your abdomen finally explodes. You disassociate for all of one second, consumed in a wave of bliss never before heard of, his pistoning thrusts working you through it.

You nearly cry from how good it feels, throwing an arm around his neck to pull him closer. You’re babbling like an idiot, saying shit you won’t remember later. What you do recall is the chuckles Jeongguk had muffled against your neck, hips never faltering as he chased his own high.

He finds it a few beats later, the muscles of his back suddenly going rigid. He moans your name, somehow making it sound like it’s the best song in the world, before his hips begin stuttering in their mission. He eventually goes slack, slumped over you without completely crushing you beneath the weight of his muscles.

By the time you’ve fully recovered, he’s sliding out of you. Right as you go to speak, he stuffs two fingers into your sensitive cunt. “Jeon!” You wail, reaching down to push him away before you come again.

He snickers. “What? It’d be a waste to let it out,” he says, letting go when he’s decided he’s done his job, popping the digits into his mouth. You groan, trying to quell the excitement that builds in your chest from watching him suck your cum off his fingers.

“You’re the worst,” you sigh, snatching his t-shirt off the edge of the bed to tug over your bare form. Jeongguk tugs his underwear back on, retrieving yours from where he’d flung them across the room. When you’re settled into the blankets again, you’re not expecting the laptop to return as well. You raise a questioning eyebrow.

Jeongguk shrugs, nestling into your chest. “Hit play, this is when Professor Poopy Pants begins attacking the city.”

#kpopwonderlandtag #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jjk♡#jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #mine

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damienthepious · 4 years ago

Text

this has been a difficult week! also for the bouquet here whoops.

Going Through Changes, Ripping Out Pages (chapter 6)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ao3] [ch 7] [ch 8] [ch 9] [ch 10] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, (uhhhhh sorta), Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, (WE WILL GET THERE…… EVENTUALLY)

Summary: Lord Arum wakes to discover that some things have changed while he slept. Namely, there is a human in his bed.

Chapter Summary: There are some tried and true methods, when it comes to curse-breaking.

Chapter Notes: this chapter beat me up out by the dumpsters. but hey! happy LKT! ;3c

Arum brings them to his workshop. Rilla isn't sure if she should be more relieved or worried about that, but the fact that the room looks turned over is leaning her more towards the second option.

"Okay," she says slowly as he leans against one of the worktables (his own, she notes) and stares at the both of them with an edge of suspicion. "You want us to convince you. How exactly can we do that?"

"What will it take for you to believe us?" Damien echoes, his voice a little uneven.

Arum wrinkles his snout, but he doesn't quite look angry, now. Mostly he just looks uncomfortable.

He reaches and lifts one of her recorders from on top of a small pile of blueprints, scrawled over in his handwriting as well Rilla's, and he frowns lightly as he fiddles with the controls until he plays the entry he's apparently interested in.

Research log, Entry 4485. We're going to need to adjust the dosage slightly on the treatment regimen we've worked out for the Keep. Its reaction has been positive, and it certainly seems like we're making strides helping it recover from the long-term damage sustained from the Moonlit Hermit incident, but it's experiencing some side effects and I think we can work out a better ratio that should prevent the added drowsiness and pseudo-cramping while still helping to restore its structural awareness and reduce the internal scarring. I think our best bet is-

Arum stops the recording, still frowning, and then he meets Rilla's eyes.

"I thought you said that we solved the illness afflicting my Keep," he mutters, though he still doesn't sound angry.

"We did," she clarifies. "But by the time we did solve it, the Keep had been suffering from sleep deprivation - you had too, by the way - and a magically modified fungal infection so bad that it was nearly necrotic for something like two weeks at least. We figured out the problem, but that doesn't mean that the Keep didn't take some long-term damage in the meantime. And even after that-" she laughs, helplessly, "after that, the fear monster set the entire swamp off, so it's not like the poor thing got a break before you and Marc and it had to struggle through a full-blown assault."

"Marc," Arum hisses, looking away. "The Keep mentioned another… hrm."

"Is this… does this have any particular bearing on our current situation?" Damien asks, his tone very careful, and Arum sighs.

"The pieces of this obnoxious puzzle seem to be falling into place," he says slowly, grudgingly. "And the pieces seem to… corroborate a certain version of the events of the last year."

"A certain version?" Damien echoes, his hands clasping in front of his chest.

Arum sighs again, his snout wrinkling before he looks up towards them. "Your version. Which-" he waves a hand in front of himself when Rilla and Damien glance towards each other in surprise. "Do not misunderstand. Your story is still ridiculous, and I still do not understand, and everything you have so far claimed is decidedly in the realm of the impossible. But-" he grimaces, and then he reaches for the recorder again. "But I am… I am more aware than most," he grumbles, "that the impossible is perfectly within reach. For me, at the least."

He presses down the button, and a different entry plays. Rilla doesn't remember exactly when this one is from (she records her logs so thoroughly so she doesn't need to keep that information in her head, honestly), but she can hear from the very first word that she's completely exhausted in the recordin.

-ter version of the salve. The last three trials have completely tanked, and until I can get my hands on some mo-

She interrupts herself, the edges of a wide yawn crackling through on the tape.

- more, Saints. More of that specific subspecies of dayshade, which is a pain in the ass to source, I'm limited in the number of trials I can actually do. I've got maybe enough for… four more attempts? So I need to pick just four formulas to try and just hope that one of them-

A rustle and a gasp, and then Arum's low rumbling laughter on the recording.

Sneaking up on me again, Arum-

I do not think I could have approached you in any other way, Amaryllis. You have apparently been utterly single-minded on this task since sundown. You … you aren't avoiding sleep again, are you?

No. No, I just- lost track of the time. Is it actually that late?

If you go to sleep right now, you might just pass Damien as he wakes.

A laugh, Rilla's own this time, and then another rustle that ends in a soft hum.

So what are you doing awake, then?

Looking for you, of course.

Another laugh, bright and warm, and Arum looks away from the device with his frill flared high.

Arum-

Come to bed, little doctor. It is … it is never quite warm enough without you.

Alright, okay, okay you big- oh. Whoops. Experiment will continue tomorrow, I guess? End of log.

Arum clicks the button, preventing the device from playing the following log, and then he swallows and frowns even more deeply before he meets Rilla's eyes again.

"Evidence," he hisses. "Everywhere I look, every stone I turn. The pair of you have sunk your roots in here, however you've done it, and… and I know my own voice. I know- I can recognize-"

He snaps his teeth together, and then he exhales a hiss between them.

"I do not understand how. But the pair of you are apparently a part of this. Part of the life that this-" he pats his own chest, his lower hands with the dulled claws thumping off of his scales, "this version of myself has built, over the year that has been stolen from me. I cannot… I cannot imagine that the both of you are… are such impeccable liars as would be required for this to be…" he clenches his teeth, eyes flicking back and forth as he searches for the words.

"Arum," Damien murmurs, and the monster's frown eases, just barely.

"I am beginning to think," Arum says slowly, "that this curse was meant to harm you, just as much as it was meant to harm me."

Rilla can't help the relief, can't help the way her shoulders sag, and Damien clings to her arm. Arum watches them both, but- he doesn't seem surprised by their reaction.

"If- if that was the intent," Damien says breathlessly, "I think it is safe to say it quite succeeded."

"Hm," Arum says, and it sounds a little bit like an agreement.

Rilla, for her part, is running back through exactly what Arum just said, because-

"Wait. You said- curse?"

Arum's frill settles, and he turns, jerking his shoulder to motion the pair of them closer.

"You said before that you do not believe I have had any correspondence with the monster Senate since… since almost the time that I can remember currently. I've found some evidence to the contrary. Look."

He gestures, and Rilla looks past him to see the carefully reconstructed remains of the letter.

She steps closer, and Arum rattles uncomfortably as she and Damien read through what they can. Damien's breath goes sharp, and Rilla needs to read it three times, because she's almost too angry to internalize the words on the first two tries.

"You are going to destroy them," Damien echoes, his horror completely clear in his tone. "They thought- they wanted you to kill us. They thought that you would-"

"I nearly did," Arum murmurs, his tail flicking irritably. "They certainly wanted me to. Or, failing that, they believed that one of you would kill me. I find myself far less favorable towards that first idea now that I know I was being manipulated into it. I am the puppet of no creature, no matter how much of my mind has been scraped away."

"So you think-" Rilla cuts off, the anger flaring again. "So they cursed you. That's what you think this is?"

"That would not be unheard of, for a punishment laid down by the Senate," he murmurs, looking away.

"This… this is because of us, then," Damien says quietly, blankly. "It is our fault, that they have done this to you."

Rilla jerks her head to the side to look at Damien, biting his lip and pressing a hand over his heart in obvious despair, and she opens her mouth to deny it, but Arum gets there first.

"I would say, little knight, that if the Senate did this to me, it is their fault." He growls lightly, tapping his claws off the table beside the remains of the letter. "Besides, did we not just agree that this was meant to harm you as well? Now that we have at least some hint as to what has caused this debacle, we can begin to take steps towards reversing it."

"You have an idea, then?"

"I have several," he grumbles, and then his chest puffs up as he stands a bit straighter. "I have broken curses before. I will break this one as well," he says. "Keep. The scroll room."

The Keep obeys without a please this time, and as the portal is forming beside the monster he turns to Rilla again.

"If you and I… perform research together, as is apparent from… the majority of this room, and from your notes as well as my own… I will allow you to assist me."

Rilla snorts a laugh, and then she takes Damien's hand. "I'm not your assistant," she says quickly as they step past him through the portal. "And you aren't mine either," she clarifies when his expression goes sour behind them. "C'mon. Just show me which journals we're starting with and we'll compare notes in an hour."

Damien helps for a while, mostly just fetching books and running to the kitchen to grab water and a small meal for the three of them, and then assisting whenever Rilla asks, but she's not entirely surprised when she glances over to ask him to grab one of Vetch's older journals and she finds him completely passed out in the chair beside her own.

She manages a smile. This is the calmest she's seen him look all day.

Arum doesn't mention it, but he works more quietly after that. She pretends not to notice when she catches him staring at Damien in his sleep.

Eventually, she leans back in her seat with a long sigh, pushing her hair out of her face. They've hit on a few different curse-breaking methods that seem to come up repeatedly- one that Arum says he's used before is pretty straightforward, but unlikely to be useful to them in this case: killing the creature who created the curse. Usually, he says, that will solve the issue immediately, but there is a slim chance that it'll just leave the curse behind, depending on how it was created. Besides that, though, the chances of the four of them figuring out which member of the Senate created this curse and then actually getting close enough to kill them- well, it's a risky idea at the very least. Probably impossible, if she's being honest with herself.

Another potential solution that keeps coming up in Rilla's research is- well. Mostly it's just more fuel for the fire of Rilla's distaste for the way magic works. It sounds more like a bad joke than a real solution, but it does keep coming up, and… well…

"Do kisses actually break curses?" Rilla asks eventually, quietly, and she feels absolutely stupid, but she's been with Arum for long enough to know that if this question has a real answer, he would know it. "Or is that just another dumb misinterpretation-slash-mistranslation of some herbal component or something?"

"They-" he pauses, flicks his tongue, and his expression goes distinctly uncomfortable. "They have been known to. Historically. Though- though the magic is, of course-"

"Inconsistent," Rilla finishes with a frustrated sigh. "I know, I know. But-"

"It would not be… unheard of," he mumbles, looking decidedly away from her. "If… if a- a powerful sort of- of connection were involved."

Rilla grits her teeth, resisting the urge to groan. "So. True love."

"Ugh," the monster grumbles, and Rilla can't help but agree.

"Look, I know it's stupid, but so is magic and if there's even a possibility it might work-"

"Magic is not stupid," he spits, and her human insult sounds charmingly ridiculous in his voice. Like it always does. She tries not to think about that.

"Just inconsistent and almost deliberately contrary," she says, and then she glances towards Damien's still sleeping-slumped form and lowers her voice. "I just- I know it's a long shot. I know you barely believe us. I know it'll be-" painful, she doesn't say. "Awkward. But- if it works, then it's just a few seconds of- awkward and then you'll have the whole damn year back, right?"

"So you would like to… kiss." He pauses, his hands flexing and clenching. "To kiss me. That is what you are saying."

"I'm not saying I would like to," she corrects quickly, because the idea of Arum not knowing, not recognizing, not remembering while she puts her lips on him makes her feel- it makes her chest feel tight and awful and she thinks that she might want to just scream a bit, but- "I'm saying there's a slim, slim chance that it might just fix this, and I think it'd be stupid of us not to just test that incredibly low-risk theory and see what happens, if anything. And if it doesn't work-"

He stares at her, his frown turning nearly into a pout as she tries not to think about the curiosity in his eyes.

"If it doesn't work?"

"Then we…" she sighs. "Then we just keep looking for something else. No great loss beyond a couple of seconds of time."

That part feels like a lie. Rilla- Rilla always wants to kiss Arum. She loves kissing Arum, loves the way she can make him smile, make his whole frame soften so damn easily-

It feels like a pretty fucking substantial loss, though, to give a kiss to Arum while he barely even knows who she is.

But if there's even the slightest chance it might bring him back- Saints, she's starting to sound like Damien. She sucks in a breath to steady herself, then presses her own lips into a frown as she waits for Arum to respond.

His hands flex again, and then he seems to remember the coded journal in danger of his claws, and he sets the tome aside as a thin rattle whirs from his throat. He meets her eye- and then he glances away too quickly, snake-strike fast.

Rilla saw, though. She saw the look in his eyes. He's already made the decision.

"… very well," he says eventually, still not looking anywhere near her. "If… if you believe we might unravel this magic… if we are to each other what you say we are… that sort of magic is rather old, and rather… potent. I imagine this curse must be powerful, but…"

"You agree that there's a chance?"

"Slim," he hedges. "With magic, there is a chance of nearly anything. With magic as old as a curse-breaking kiss… a slim chance is still a chance, I suppose."

"Okay," Rilla says slowly. "So… so you're okay if we… try this?"

"I'm not going to get my hopes up," the monster mutters, and then he flicks his eyes up to meet her own. "But… yes. If there is a chance… yes."

Rilla clenches her fists hard at her side, trying and trying and trying not to think about the mingling hope and curiosity she can see the monster trying very clumsily to hide.

"Alright," she says, and then she takes another step closer to him. "Okay. If you're sure-"

"I'm not going to say it again, little human."

"I'm just gonna," she says by way of warning, and then before her hands can start actually shaking, she lifts them to cup his jaw, her heart stuttering when he stiffens at the contact. He swallows, his eyes widening as they flick between her own, and she gives a weak sort of smile. "Close your eyes?"

She's half expecting him to change his mind at that. Instead, he just watches her for another moment, his hands flexing at his sides, and then she feels him nod very slightly as he lets his eyes slip closed.

She could almost pretend, like this. While he isn't looking at her- she could almost pretend.

Almost.

She leans up, going on her toes so she can reach his mouth more easily, but when she's at the right level she pauses first.

"I… I know you don't want to hear this right now," she whispers, and Arum inhales sharply as her breath tickles his scales, "but I think- I feel like… maybe I should."

"What…" he keeps his eyes closed, his shoulders stiff. "Go on. Say what needs said and just-"

"I love you," she murmurs, and the shocked noise he makes is too much to stand, so she closes her own eyes as she lifts herself the last little bit to kiss him.

It feels exactly like a first kiss, which Rilla decides she should have expected. He feels stiff against her, he doesn't even raise his hands to hold her, he just- stands and gasps against her lips and allows her to hold his face with as much gentleness as she can muster.

His chest rumbles as her thumbs brush across his cheeks, as her mouth moves against him. She can tell that he's just as breathless as she is, and she feels burning and wild as she thinks, told you that you purr, you big liar.

Her eyes flutter open as she slowly pulls away. She exhales, one long sigh, and then she looks up into Arum's eyes.

Her heart stumbles, and then it sinks.

Arum's violet eyes are wide, and stunned, and wanting-

And still without a flicker of memory.

She tries to hide her- her disappointment, tries to hide the way her entire body feels suddenly cold and distant, but when she closes her eyes again she can hear the small noise the monster makes in response, and after a moment, two of his hands reach awkwardly to grip her own.

"I… Rilla…"

"Don't- don't call me that," she manages, and her voice sounds strange in her own ears. It's almost worse, hearing him try to say the wrong name so damn gently instead of just hissing at her. "You never call me that."

"I'm… I'm s-" he pauses, and she can feel his hands flexing uncomfortably against her own. "I do not know what to say. I thought- for a moment, I almost believed that perhaps-"

"Knew it was a ridiculous long shot. You said so yourself," she says, before he can finish the thought, and his hands drop away from her. She wants to grab his wrists and pull his arms around her, wants to run until her legs give out, wants to shove him and scream in his face, wants to kiss him again and again and again until she snaps this curse in half-

She opens her eyes, and turns away from Arum's confused, yearning face, back to the pile of books. She pulls one towards her, peeling it open with fingers that feel wooden and strange, and she forces herself to focus on the words in front of her.

"We'll keep trying," she says, and after a moment she sees him nod out of the corner of her eye.

They'll keep trying. Rilla will keep working. Until they fix this, until they get him back-

There's nothing else she can do.

[->]

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #sir damien #going through changes ripping out pages

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erindoodless · 5 years ago

Text

a magical kind of love

CHAPTER 1: A NEW BEGINNING FOR DANIEL HOWELL

author’s note: sorry for taking so long to write this! school is very tiring. i hope to post at least every sunday! let me know if you would like to be on my tag list so you will be notified of future chapters and works.

summary: dan gets accepted into hogwarts and meets a new friend on the hogwarts express.

type: modern phan hogwarts au

wc: 2.3k

honorable mention: to my beta readers for their amazing editing skills and being able to read it very last minute @violetofthesea @some-angelic-flowers @hermit-with-friendz

read on ao3 or continue reading below!

As Dan walked through the train station, he felt nervous butterflies in the pit of his stomach. He never liked normal school so the last place he wanted to go was Hogwarts. The idea of being among loads of obnoxious, magical people his own age stressed him out. All he wanted to do was stay home and go on the internet for the rest of his life because it was the only place he could be himself.

While he strolled into the station, it started to rain. Dan didn’t like the rain very much, so he sped to the entrance of the building. This made him believe that going to a wizardly school was such a terrible idea that the sky started to cry. In reality, it was raining to represent a new phase in his life. A brand new beginning for him.

When Dan first got his letter, both he and his parents were very confused. Although neither of his parents are Muggles, and he had exhibited magic before, he lacked any passion for it. They were sure that Dan wouldn’t get accepted for that reason, but his letter came anyway, and their attitudes changed. They were very excited for the first time in a long time for their son. Even though he didn’t want to leave his bedroom, Dan felt pressured by them to go. His bedroom was the only place he found peace. Yet, despite all his complaints, his irritating parents still made him go.

Dan’s mother took him along to the station on the day he was sent to Hogwarts. Similar to him, his mother had mouse-brown hair and dark brown eyes. Dan imagined that he used to have a more trustworthy relationship with his mother. Unfortunately, that was lost as soon as both of his parents shared their opinions about certain topics that he disagreed with. For being just 11 years old, Dan was intelligent for his age because he was able to form opinionated thoughts about controversial ideas due to his free access to the internet. They walked along with the platform. Dan still felt upset about the whole situation while he pushed his loud trolley. He was glad that his parents let him bring his dog Colin along so he could have some sort of friend. He was happy that Hogwarts updated their policies to allow dogs.

“Oh, don’t look so miserable Daniel. This is an opportunity that most children don’t get! You should feel lucky,” his mother said to him with a disappointing look on her soft face. The only thing that brought Dan ease from his mother is her tendency to feel empathetic for him. But in this circumstance, he didn’t feel any love at all and his mother was just disappointing him. “I’m sure you will meet loads of new friends.”

Dan let out a heavy sigh. He never had good friends at his primary school so he wasn’t sure why his mother believed that Hogwarts would be any different. The one time he had a friend was in his 4th year of primary school. His 8-year-old self tried to kiss him after they had a conversation about kissing, but the boy ran off before anything could happen. He never heard from him again.

As Dan was thinking about his time at primary school and walking through the station, his mother suddenly stopped in front of a pillar while Dan is lost in thoughts about primary school. “You’re supposed to run into the pillar. Didn’t you read the letter at all? The train is at platform 9 and ¾,” his mother asked, annoyed at Dan’s disinterest obvious in her voice.

“No? Why would I read a letter about a place I don’t want to go to? And why do they make you go to a platform that doesn’t exist?” Dan replied, not bothering to hide his misery. “And I’ll probably regret going even though you all think I’ll feel guilty about not going.”

This was a drastic moment when Dan’s awful life was changed forever. Without listening to his mother’s response, he just ran into the stone pole with his trolley and Colin yelped.

And there he was. He was standing right in front of the Hogwarts Express with loads of other wide-eyed children and their supportive families. Since it was 10:55 am, and the train was due to leave at 11 am, he decided to just get on the enchanted train so he could avoid his crazy mother as much as possible.

Fortunately for him, he was able to find a seat in an empty compartment. He sat down with a sigh of relief. The compartment consisted of 4 seats, 2 shelves to put up luggage, and a giant window. The luxurious seats were so squishy that one could easily sink into them.

The brown-eyed boy set his stuff down and let his dog out of that horrid cage. He was fully against putting Colin in a cage because he knew he was perfectly capable of walking to the station, but Dan’s mother and father said he would have to put the dog in a cage or leave him at home. Since he found comfort in Colin, he chose to put him into the confinement even though it made him feel very guilty. When the small dog came out, he did a long stretch and laid down on the comfy seat. Dan began petting him lovingly.

He came prepared for the 9-hour train ride to Scotland with his tablet, earbuds, and downloaded the whole season of Yuri On Ice!!! ‘It took 4 hours to download the episodes so this better be worth it’, Dan thought to himself. Thankfully, he also remembered to bring his portable charger in case his tablet battery got too low.

Just as he was about to start the first episode, he heard a soft knock on the door. Startled, he looked up to see a pale-skinned boy with bright blue eyes and bright ginger hair in the slightly opened doorway. Dan was not expecting to have any visitors so this was quite a surprise for him.

“Do you mind if I sit with you? Everywhere else is full,” the pale boy stammered out. He had a strong Northern accent and seemed very shy. Dan hesitantly nodded and the boy quickly sat down.

Dan avoided eye contact with the boy as long as he could and took a few glimpses at him while he was looking out the window. He had lots of colors in his eyes. His soft, orange hair was styled in a quiff. And damn, he was pretty. Even though he was just 11, Dan knew that he found boys nicer to look at than girls. This was another part of him that he had never told anyone in fear of rejection besides, of course, the one friend he tried to kiss. Thankfully, his old friend was somewhat a good person and never told anyone about what happened, even if he made a point of not talking to Dan after. The other parts included his Tumblr URL and his love for anime.

A few minutes later, Dan felt light taps on his shoulder. He looked up and saw that the boy was trying to speak to him. He paused his anime and took an earbud out to listen to what he had to say. “Hey, uh… My name is Phil Lester. What’s yours?” The boy, now known as ‘Phil’, questioned, somewhat awkwardly, his face turning even more red than his hair. He had a high pitched voice, though that might’ve just been nerves. Dan thought it was cute.

“Dan,” was all he said while not looking at Phil in the face. He returned to his anime because he knew he would start crushing hard if they began to have a conversation.

In the next hour or so, Dan noticed Phil eyeing Colin while the dog stared right back at him. Dan took his earbud out again and said, “You can pet him if you want.” Phil looked up at Dan surprised while the brown-eyed boy still wasn’t looking at him in the eye. The pale boy timidly placed his small hand on Colin’s head and began gently stroking him. Dan had never seen someone stroke an animal so delicately in his whole 11 years of being alive. The dog was having the time of his life as Phil began petting his belly.

“Wow, he really likes you,” Dan said out of confusion. He was shocked because it usually takes a while for Colin to trust people.

“Well, I guess I do have a way with animals,” Phil replied with a small smile on his face. “I live on a farm with my parents filled with lots of unique creatures. Maybe if I get to know you better, I can bring you home one time! We have thestrals, house cats, thunderbirds, and loads more. My favorite would have to be my own thestral, Henry,” he babbled on. Dan was distracted by when Phil said he could take him home. Does that mean someone finally wanted to befriend Dan?

“Did you bring a pet with you?” asked Dan. He was curious because he was the other way around where his parents never told him much about the magical world. Since they assumed he would never get into Hogwarts, he didn’t have an opportunity to learn much about special creatures.

“Yes! I have my lovely pygmy puff. She’s a bit on the crazy side, especially since a dog is here, so I’m going to leave her in her cage for now. I’ll show you her another time,” Phil smiled while looking at the small cage.

“Anyway, what are you watching on the screen thing? I’ve been curious about it the whole train ride,” the pale boy questioned. Dan wondered why the boy was suddenly being so talkative after sitting for an hour and not doing or saying anything. “Is that Muggle technology? My parents would never let me have technology.”

Dan was astonished to hear this. “You mean you’ve never watched anime, been on Tumblr, read fanfiction…?” Phil shook his head and had a puzzled look on his face. “Alright then. Come over here and we can watch this anime together.”

Phil blushed a bit again and went across to sit next to Dan. He was more fascinated by Dan’s tablet than anything else. He had never seen a piece of technology in this life besides the few times his parents took him out in public. Colin laid between the two boys while the blue-eyed boy was delightfully petting him again. “So, what exactly is an anime?” Phil inquired. Dan was even more shocked to hear this.

“Japanese cartoon. I need to show you everything now,” Dan responded. Phil let out a squeaky giggle and it made Dan’s checks turn deep red because of how angelic it sounded. “This one I download for the train is Yuri On Ice!!! It’s a competitive figure skating anime and it’s super gay.” That was another word Dan had learned from the internet. He had discovered all the different sexualities.

Phil looked even more excited now because if it’s a cheerful story, then it must be a great story. His parents had told him very little about the Muggle world and they didn’t want him to be involved with technology. All they wanted was their little boy to be a happy farmer. He spent the majority of his childhood reading educational magic books on the different creatures and plants on his family’s farm. He remembers reading the word ‘gay’ in one of his books and it was used to describe pure bliss.

“Oh, I love happy stories,” Phil stated with a small grin.

“I mean, this story has some sad bits. What makes you assume it’s a happy story?” Dan asked in a perplexed voice.

“Because it’s gay.”

Dan burst out laughing. “You know what, nevermind. You’ll learn eventually.” This made Phil even more bewildered than ever, but he just went along with it. Dan gave Phil one of his earbuds and showed him where to put it because he was originally trying to put it in his nostrils. Then they finally began watching. It turned out to be very depressing at the beginning. In Phil’s opinion, it wasn’t very gay. However, throughout the 22 minutes, it became quite funny with all the characters’ dramatic reactions.

After watching the first episode, Dan took out his earbud, and Phil did the same. “So, what did you think?” Dan asked in curiosity.

“I thought it was not happy at all. But I like the characters. And the theme song was good,” Phil responded, still unsure of the whole anime thing. They continued to watch the remaining episodes. Phil began obsessing over Yuri because of their similar love for dogs.

About 5 hours had gone by when they finally finished the anime. They had mini discussions between each episode so it took much longer than Dan expected. They still had 3 hours left on the train. The boys were struggling to think of something they could do or talk about because they didn’t want to be bored out of their minds.

While Dan was thinking of what they could do next, he felt something lay onto his shoulder. He looked over at Phil and realized he had fallen asleep with his head on Dan’s shoulder. Dan let out a sigh and accepted that he wouldn’t be able to move for a long time. He was feeling pretty tired as well so he rested his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes.

He slowly fell asleep, happy that he possibly made a new friend.

authors note: please reblog and like if you enjoyed reading! again, let me know if you want on to be the tag list!

#erin writes #phan #dan and phil #daniel howell #amazingphil #dan howell #phil lester #danisnotonfire #phanfiction #phanfic #phanfics #fic #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #fanfics #dan

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ncturn-e · 5 years ago

Text

❛❛ ¡cherry bomb! ❜❜

❛ el mañana ❜

✰ ‘verse

⤷ sɓuᴉɥꓕ ɹǝɓuɐɹʇS

♡ pairing

⤷ dr. alexei / laura garcía (oc)

☹ warnings

⤷ none

word count

⤷ 1,845

tags

⤷ @justice-for-dr-alexei

a/n: this is the shitty start to hopefully something lovely for a man who never received the love he deserved. lemme know if you would like to be tagged on updates to this story :)

╔═.✵.══════════╗

╚══════════.✵.═╝

If there was one thing to be anticipated upon opening the bunker doors and lumbering inside, Laura knew the mean end of a shotgun was not the first on her list. Her first reaction was an ungodly squawk as she stumbled onto her backside, the guitar case clattering off her back and the bag of paints spilling onto the ground.

“Son of a bitch, Murray!” was her second, her anger rightly placed as she struggled to get to her feet while simultaneously gathering her strewn paraphernalia. Her hair was in massive disarray, and her tanned hands were splotched and smudged with still-drying paint.

“‘Knock before you walk’,” Murray seethed as he withdrew the shotgun, tugging on his beard in a sort of annoyed manner. “You know you're supposed to buzz the warning before sashaying in unannounced - you know that!”

“And I also know I'm the only other person besides you who knows how to get inside,” the Latina mumbled. The man slid to block her back before she could walk inside, and she produced a loud, tired huff. “It's been a long day, Murph. I just need a place to crash for the night. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“If you would've buzzed before bursting in,” Murray stated, clearly tense as the short Latina tried to bob around him. “You'd know that I was a bit busy at the moment -”

“- busy fucking around with the Girl Scout at the door when there are more important things to -”

Laura cut off the unfamiliar voice, “Another human being! Murph, I thought I was your only connection to the world above, you minx!” She seized the opportunity to dart past the eccentric and his shotgun just as he opened his mouth to object. The girl skipped through the armoured doors and into the main room, halting in her steps to visually greet three brand new individuals with a weary-but-still-pleasant disposition. There was a short, bleary-eyed, and oddly expressive woman, an angry moustached wall of a guy who resembled a father at the end of his wit, and a very unsettled, dishevelled man curled up in one of the loveseats. Naturally, Laura was not at all surprised by the oddities of the company - after all, she was friends with Murray Bauman of all people - and she set down the case of her guitar with a smile.

“Of all places a nice girl would be, I would never have guessed the home of a paranoid hermit,” the first man grumbled, placing his face in his hands and rubbing at the weariness lining his expression. The woman beside him sent her elbow into his arm lightly, shooting Laura an apologetic look, though she didn't appear to disagree with his assessment.

While the first stocky slab of a man ran a thumb over his moustache with an utterly exasperated noise, the woman next to him quickly got to her feet, moving to attempt an awkward introduction as she began to consolidate a clutter of wrappers and fast-good carnage together on the coffee table. The third man, likely younger than the other two, was staring at the newcomer through his glasses, wearing an aura of newly introduced confusion.

As Murray came bumbling back into the room, he seized Laura by the shoulders and attempted to steer her back towards the front door. She wriggled free with a wince, and, after casting another quick look at the trio around the table, quipped, “You never have company. Either you're doing something illegal, or convening to stop something illegal illegally.”

“How about Russian translations and a wild goose chase?” Murray muttered, massaging his forehead before nodding in the vague direction of the younger man. “This is Dr. Alexei, our very own foreign menace, graced by the company of Officer Jim Hopper and Joyce Byers.” He added in a tired tone, “Ne bespokoysya Ona bezvredna,” waving his hand. The young man, Alexei, loosened his shoulders slightly, still eyeing the little Latina with both wariness and interest.

“Okay. So, Jim -”

“Hopper,” the first man grunted.

“Oh - okay, Hopper. Joyce. Alexei.” Laura recited each name. “Neat. Anyone want something to drink?”

“You're not - Laura, I swear to Christ - can you at least stay in the other room?” Murray spoke exasperatedly, trying and failing to guide her out of the area.

Laura feigned offence. “You haven't even offered your guests a drink besides that crap Burger King calls edible?” she scoffed as Murray threw his hands into the air. She looked at the doctor, saying with playful sympathy, “I'll bet he didn't even get you water.”

“Apparently a strawberry Slurpee was worse than water,” Hopper growled before Joyce yanked at his arm as if to say ‘shut up, you big oaf.’

“He said strawberry was fine now!” the woman protested, but he waved her off. They then descended into what was most definitely a lover’s quarrel before Murray made a loud and obnoxious shhing noise through his teeth.

“Shut. Up.”

The others complied, except Laura, of course.

“So, what is going on here?” she queried, picking at a spot of dry paint on her knuckles. She moved to hoist her guitar case over to leave against the nearest wall, still observing the others.

There was a beat of silence, puckered by an annoyed whine from Murray before Joyce began to speak up. “Are you from Hawkins?”

Laura shook her head. “No. I'm just two towns over. Read what happened last year, though - that's some crazy stuff -” She cut herself off. “Byers. Byers - you're the woman who found her son two years ago! Er, what was his name -”

“Will.” Joyce showed a soft smile. Murray seemed to have given up on trying to reign in the conversation and had gone rooting through the kitchen, presumably for alcohol.

“Yeah! I'm glad you found him,” Laura went on with a shrug before perching herself on the armrest of one of the empty seats. When she caught the man called Alexei watching her with friendly intent, she shot him a grin before turning back to Joyce. “How's he doing these days?”

“Good - well, better!” Joyce answered, the smile remaining on her features before she was interrupted by an unintelligible grumble from Hopper. “Oh, what is it now? Do you need a Slurpee now? You big - baby - man.”

“Just saying,” the policeman said slowly, tone wavering with restrained irritation. “Not solving the Russian situation with small talk.”

“Russians? So they've finally broken through our defences?” Laura sounded only half facetiously.

Hopper gestured halfheartedly to Alexei. “Ask Smirnoff over here. He's the one with a big-ass base under the goddamn mall.”

Laura creased her brows, turning back to Alexei and repeating, “Base?”

“He can't understand you,” Joyce piped up, just as Murray came strolling in with a glass of what was probably whiskey.

“Doesn't know a lick of English,” Murray confirmed tiredly before falling back into the seat adjacent to the Latina. “I'm the nearest local translator, apparently,” he added with a gallon of absolutely sarcastic glee before tossing the whiskey down his throat. He winced before smiling way too widely.

Laura outed a small ‘ooooh’ as tucked a curl of hair behind her ear, looking at the scientist apologetically. Jamming a thumb into her chest, she made a clear introduction by saying, “Laura.” The Soviet repeated it slowly, thick and hesitant from his tongue. The grin that lit up her features sent a blossom of red spiralling into the young man’s face.

“Alrighty then. Since everyone knows my name now, why don't you all get me caught up on what the hell is happening?”

She humorously took the gurgling sounds of malcontent from Murray’s glass as an affirmative.

»»»

When all was said and done, it was an understatement to say Laura was baffled, if not utterly blown away by the massive import of information that had just been funnelled into her brain, all in a little less than an hour. However, visibly to Murray’s amusement, the presumed couple - who made it a point to announce that they were, in fact, not involved - went off into another minor argument before Murray had cordoned them off into another room.

Laura had taken it upon herself to sit on the floor beside the coffee table and sort out grocery baggie of paints, attempting to clean her hands off in the midst. “Russians have invaded America, and they chose to do so in the ass-end of nowhere. That was clever on their part, I will admit,” the woman mused over the muffled shouts coming from the other room. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, watching Murray come out of the kitchen and situate himself next to the Russian scientist on the sofa across from Laura. ”And he really doesn't understand English?” she requested confirmation, gently nodding her head at Alexei.

”Not a word.”

”Ah,” she murmured, drumming her paint-stained fingers along her leg. She sounded disappointed.

Alexei appeared to notice this, sitting up a smidge as he looked between Murray and Laura, eventually mumbling something to the other man with raised brows. Murray shook his head and replied, pausing in the middle before finishing with the babbling syllables, “Yedinstvennyye drugiye yazyki kotoryye ona znayet eto ispanskaya i umnaya zadnitsa.”

When Laura looked at him expectantly, Murray rolled his eyes and translated, “I told him you only speak English, Spanish, and Smartass.”

The Latina held up a very special finger. Murray chortled tiredly, muttering, “Yeah, you too, Lottie.”

After a reprieve, looked up again and asked slowly, “Do you, ah - do you think I could talk to him? Through you, I mean -”

Before she could even finish, Murray was out of his chair and fleeing to the kitchen for what was presumably more alcohol. “No, no, no, no, don't get me started. No. You already never shut your mouth as it is.”

Laura raised her hands in defence. “Jesus, Murph … I just want to talk to the guy. And I think you owe me for putting your thing in my face.” A pause, then through a sly grin, “Me pregunto cómo reaminará la Mamá cuando escucha cómo trataste a tus invitados.”

Murray gripped his glass with white knuckles and resignation, staring down the young woman - plus Alexei, who had no idea what was going on - before leaving the room, only to return with an armful of paper and a few dull pencils. “Comprise. Knock yourself out with a round of Pictionary first. I'll ‘repay’ you by being a translator tomorrow. Deal?”

Laura clicked her tongue and scrambled over to fetch the supplies, responding with a coy, “Es un acuerdo,” before watching Murray dramatically excuse himself. Looking over to the confused Russian, she smiled, scooting closer to his seat as his eyes followed her movements curiously. He opened his mouth to ask a question but shut it after remembering only one person in the bunker understood him. His brows furrowed, and he sat back with a faint little huff until Laura edged up next to him. He appeared a bit confused by her smile. Nevertheless, she raised a pencil and said anyways, “Let's play some Pictionary, comrade.”

#alexei #alexei stranger things #stranger things #stranger things 3 #smirnoff #fanfic #alexei fanfic #fanfiction #ficlet #imagine #imagines #drabble #alexei drabble #alexei x oc #i love alexei #please help me #latina oc #latina pairing

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albapuella · 4 years ago

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How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure (Chapter Two)

AO3

Fandom: Homestuck

Summary: How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days AU Dave needs to win a bet; Karkat needs to write an article. Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: Humanstuck, alternate universe - no sburb session, POV switches galore, implied/referenced child abuse Author’s note: This story is the result of a jam session I did with aceAdoxography on the davekat thirst federation discord server. This one's a little out of my usual wheelhouse, but I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. New chapters every Saturday/Sunday. Didn’t bother with the formatting this time: You want the fancy formatting, go to AO3 :D

Day 1:

Despite his slacker appearance (and life-style, to be honest), Dave was always punctual. He'd even made an effort to look the part of a guy going on a date with another guy: jeans with only a few holes at the knees, his favorite record shirt, and a red hoodie—all freshly cleaned. So freshly cleaned that the sweater was still very slightly damp. Well, whatever, it'd be fine. They were having dinner first, and that meant he'd have plenty of time for the thing to dry out before they went to the movies where the main thrust of Dave's doki-doki plan would commence.

Karkat arrived a few minutes later. He wasn't dressed to the nines, but it was at least to the sevens. It occurred to Dave, as he watched him approach, that he hadn't known how tall Karkat was. The answer was slightly shorter than Dave but with a more solid build. Stocky. Or maybe that was just the black sweater he was wearing. Then again, his legs looked pretty solid in the black pants he was wearing, too. Either way, he looked good.

Dave gave him an appreciative whistle which made Karkat's eyes narrow. Not the reaction he'd wanted. “Looking good, Karkat,” he said quickly, hoping to smooth over any feathers he might have inadvertently ruffled. “I'm digging the whole sexy college professor thing you've got going.”

“Uh, thanks,” Karkat said with evident disbelief. “You, uh, you look good, too.” He straightened up. “You said we were doing dinner first.”

“Yep.” Dave held out his arm. “I’m taking you to my favorite place. A lot of people think it’s wack, but I’m buying, so if you really don’t like it, at least it didn’t cost you anything.” When his date didn't immediately take his offered arm, he shook it invitingly. “It's not too far from here.”

Karkat looked from Dave's arm to Dave, suspicious. Then he sighed and laid his hand on Dave's arm, his hold tighter than Dave had expected it to be considering his earlier hesitation. “Okay. Fine. Sounds great. Let's go.”

---

The first thing Karkat noticed when he took Dave's arm was that his sleeve was damp. Then he noticed the feeling of the arm beneath his fingers. Despite looking thin enough to break, there was some muscle here. As they walked to what was apparently Dave’s favorite restaurant, Dave just kept talking. If Karkat had been offered a thousand dollars, he doubted he could have remembered any specific details of the inanity he'd been subjected to. A nervous talker. He'd have to put that down in his notes.

Dinner went much the same. Dave talked at him while Karkat sat there trying to eat his food (overpriced, faux Italian—of all the places Dave could have chosen, he'd picked a fucking Olive Garden? That was going in his notes, too.). In all honesty, Karkat tried not to pay too much attention to what was being said. First, he'd already determined that most of what came out of this man's mouth was completely meaningless nonsense, and second, if he actually listened to any of it, he'd be hard pressed not to respond to the idiocy. While Dave had no evident compunction about swearing, Karkat wanted to get through at least this first date without screaming.

All right, so that was an exaggeration. Some of what Dave said was actually pretty funny. In a hopelessly awkward sort of way. Karkat hated that Dave's clumsy compliments were making him blush. Clearly, the man had brain damage... which also explained the rapping that Dave kept doing (completely unprovoked!). By the time dinner was over, Karkat was only too grateful that their next destination meant that Dave would have to stop talking.

---

Since Dave had picked the restaurant, Karkat had picked the movie. Some romantic comedy chick flick Dave couldn't be bothered to remember the title of. Still, it gave him an opportunity to sit right tight next to Karkat and eat his weight in popped, buttery goodness, so he really couldn't complain.

“What’s the deal with that dude?” Dave whispered. “I thought he was already tight with that other chick. What gives? Is he cheating on her?”

Karkat made a noise like a cat being stepped on but softer. “Dave,” he whispered back, his tone full of the same sing-songy patient impatience that Rose would use when she thought Dave was being particularly dim, “if you were paying attention, you'd already know that that 'dude' is that 'other chick's' cousin. They are probably not romantically involved. I know you're from Texas, but that's not how it works above the Mason Dixon line.” Then he ducked his head and took a long drink from his soda. “Sorry. Just-just watch the movie and be quiet.”

Dave blinked. He'd been starting to think Karkat wasn't going to open up at all. At least, he'd had fuck all to say during dinner. Even if it had been an incest joke at his expense, it still was nice to hear Karkat say something. Something that wasn't just non-committal noises or unenthusiastic agreements. He leaned against Karkat's shoulder to whisper, “It's not true, you know. About Texas. We don't fuck our cousins; I mean, we do, but not first cousins. We're strictly second cousins only. It's a rule. Of course, none of my second cousins are as hot as you, so I'd be willing to make an exception. Just this once.”

This earned him a light elbowing to the gut and a low growl, but Karkat didn't push him off.

By the end of the movie, Dave had gotten five more elbows to the gut, three startled bursts of laughter, two creative insults (quickly joined by muttered apologies), and one “Will you please just let me watch this movie?” Over all, Dave felt like he'd succeeded in charming the hell out of this motherfucker, thank you very much.

They'd walked out into the open air, a nice breeze whisking away the smell of popcorn and sweat from the movie theater. “I had a lot of fun, Karkat. Thanks for coming on this date with me. Do you think we could do this again sometime?”

Karkat blinked at him, a clear look of surprise on his face. “Oh, uh, sure.” He shook his head. “I mean, yes, I'd love to go on another date with you.”

Dave's heart leapt. “Awesome. You can hit me up on Pesterchum. Or I can hit you up. How about I hit you up?”

“Fine, that's... that's fine.” Karkat's smile seemed uneven. “I'll be looking forward to it.”

Although Dave was tempted to try for a kiss, he didn't think he ought to press his luck so far on the first date. Karkat had loosened up some while they'd been in the theater, but out here under the streetlight, he looked nervous again. The last thing Dave wanted to do was chase him away. “Okay then. I guess I'll see you later?”

A slow nod. “Yeah, later.” Karkat was stilted and contained again. Restricted, like a hermit crab stuck in a shell that was too tight. It wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all. Dave had caught a few glimpses of the real Karkat tonight, and the sight made him hungry to see more.

Dave watched him walk away, admiring the view with a new goal in mind: he was going to get Karkat Vantas out of his shell if it was the last thing he did. Getting to rub him in Rose’s face at her wedding was only going to be a bonus.

---

* Never shuts up. Not even during movies. Especially during movies. Attention span of a gnat. From Texas. Doesn't know how to use a dryer. Finds me attractive. Probable brain damage. Funny. Charming. Obnoxious. Never takes off sunglasses. Olive Garden.

Karkat sighed and set down his pen. He'd tried his best to be as cordial as he knew how to be, and he still hadn't managed to last for the entire four hours without insulting his date. Multiple times. Oh well. At least Dave was apparently brain damaged enough to find rudeness terribly amusing (if the way he'd kept bugging Karkat during the movie had been any indication).

He'd been surprised when Dave had actually asked if they could go on another date. Karkat knew he hadn't made the best impression, and yet Dave wanted to spend more time with him? He looked over his notes, trying to ignore the surge of happiness that filled him at the thought. It didn't mean anything: Dave was clearly an idiot, and after a few more days, Karkat was going to start on the offensive. Whatever meager promise there would have been in this fledgling romance, it was still doomed from the start: like all of Karkat's relationships.

Day 2:

It was all Dave could do to wait until the next day to pester Karkat. He didn't want to come off as too eager, after all. Didn't want to put Karkat off. But Dave was only so strong.

TG: so i was thinking TG: if youre not busy TG: we could go to the park this afternoon TG: watch the grifters and maybe get robbed TG: or you could come to my place and hang TG: is it too soon to do that? TG: asking for a friend TG: this is dave by the way TG: i dont know how many people youre talking to TG: not that its any of my business TG: i wouldnt want you up in my grill asking me who im talking to CG: IT IS SIX O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING ON SUNDAY. TG: yea and youre up anyway CG: BECAUSE YOU WOKE ME UP. WITH YOUR TEXTS. THAT YOU SENT JUST NOW. TG: oh shit sorry CG: IT'S FINE. I NEEDED TO GET UP ANYWAY. CG: YOU WANT TO HANG OUT WITH ME? WHY?

Dave frowned down at his phone. Was Karkat fishing for compliments or was he being serious?

TG: because its fun to hang out with you TG: thats how this works right? TG: i thought we could watch another movie TG: at my place TG: or your place i guess if that works better for you TG: ive got popcorn if that sweetens the deal at all CG: YES. BECAUSE THE WAY TO MY HEART IS MICROWAVED POPCORN. TG: fucking called it CG: … CG: FINE. I'LL MEET YOU AT THE PARK AT 2:30PM. IS THAT ACCEPTABLE? TG: perfect ill meet you by the giant yo CG: YOU MEAN THE OY/YO. TG: tomatoes tomotoes karkat

Dave watched the little “CG is typing” message run for almost a minute, feeling his nervousness grow. What had he said that required a novel length response? He managed to reign in the impulse to apologize preemptively, but it was a struggle.

CG: OKAY. WHATEVER. I'LL MEET YOU THERE.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Fine, good then. Nothing was wrong.

TG: im looking forward to it TG: its not hard to intuit TG: when we come out to debut TG: sit by the yo then well go round TG: downtown get the lowdown TG: before we get busy in the hissie TG: partake of the fizzie cause we got a duty TG: to watch the fuck out of this movie CG: RIGHT. SEE YOU THEN. BYE.

Dave shrugged. He couldn't expect Karkat to really appreciate his off the cuff rhymes so soon after waking up, he supposed. Maybe they'd land better later. Flat reception or not, the important thing was he'd gotten Karkat to agree to come to his apartment. He looked around, frowning. Maybe he should clean up a little.

---

Jesus Fucking Christ. Karkat tossed his phone on the bedside table with a groan. It had been all that he could do not to curse out Dave like there would never be a tomorrow. Considering the fact that he was currently planning to go to the apartment of a practical stranger, that much might just be true for him. He lay in bed a little longer, out of spite mostly—he could never get back to sleep after being woken up—, before getting out from under the covers. First things first: notes.

* Inconsiderate asshole. Horrible rapper. Calls the OY/YO “the YO”. Doesn't know the right way to express “tomatoes, tomahtos”. Wants to spend time with me. Insane. We have that much in common.

Thanks to Dave's wake-up call, Karkat had plenty of time to eat a hearty breakfast and start his article.

“How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure” BY KARKAT VANTAS

Since you have decided to read this article, I will assume that you are looking to learn the art of ruining your relationships without the mess of all that trial and error. Maybe you enjoy breaking hearts. Maybe you are the kind of masochist who enjoys getting their heart broken but is at a loss as to how to properly sabotage your relationship yourself. If you can manage to follow these simple steps, you will be well on your way to the same bitter loneliness that usually only the most unlucky in love get the privilege to experience.

The first step is the victim. For the purposes of this article, I picked one that is particularly obnoxious and brain dead. You may have different qualities you are looking for in a potential short-term partner. Ultimately, the most important thing to consider when you plan to lose a guy (or gal or enby) is that you make certain they are one you do not mind losing. That way you can start the process without any regrets.

The second step is the hook. Laugh at their dumb jokes; accept their stupid compliments; ignore their mangling of the English language (in my case, his horrible rapping); and generally be as agreeable as you can manage. A severe lack of intelligence in your short-term partner can be a boon here, though you will find most people are not immune to flattery. You need to make certain that you have your short-term partner well and truly interested in you before you attempt to lose them. If you try to lose them too soon, you will miss out on the full relationship ruining experience.

A little too informal, maybe, but a fine start. Depending on how well this afternoon went (assuming he wasn't murdered and stuffed in a closet), maybe Karkat would be able to start on step three. He was able to stomp down his nascent guilt with ease. After all, Dave wouldn't have been interested in him after the novelty wore off anyway.

---

The afternoon was a little warmer than the evening had been, but Dave still wore his hoodie. It felt lucky, and it was still clean. More the latter than the former, but the point stood! He sat down on the bench next to the giant yellow YO installation and waited. While it was tempting to shoot a message to Karkat, he decided against it. He’d be seeing him in less than ten minutes, and he didn’t want him to think he was clingy. Which he wasn’t. Totally not. Dave Strider had never clung his whole life. Ask anyone. Except Jade. Don’t ask her.

He noticed his leg was bouncing and put a stop to that noise. He was a cool operator. He had this thing on lock. The date yesterday had gone good, right? Karkat wouldn’t have agreed to see him again if he’d had a terrible time. He pushed back his hood and ran a hand through his hair. Nothing to worry about. He’d have a date for Rose’s wedding and continue sorting out the mystery that was Karkat Vantas.

Dave heard the crunch of gravel and looked over to see Karkat approaching. Another sweater combo, but gray this time. The guy had a style he preferred, clearly. It was fine: he looked great. He stood and closed the distance between them. “Hey, Karkat.”

“Hey,” Karkat returned, frowning. Of course, that seemed to be his default expression. “I brought a movie to watch,” he said gruffly.

Although Dave had been hoping he’d be able to pick the movie this time, he wasn’t too cut up about it. It might be a little early in the relationship to bring out The Room anyway. He wouldn’t know. “Sounds great. My place isn’t too far from here.” He held his arm out. “Shall we?”

Again, Karkat regarded his arm with suspicion. “Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

Karkat opened his mouth before seeming to think better of whatever he’d planned to say. “Never mind.” He took Dave’s arm. “Let’s get going.”

As they walked to his apartment, Dave tried to keep the conversation flowing, but Karkat’s subdued responses quickly killed his enthusiasm. “I feel like I’m talking too much,” he said finally.

Karkat mumbled something which sounded suspiciously like “You think?” before he shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m just a little too tired to, uh, participate, that’s all.”

Dave winced at the reminder of his first faux pas of the day. “No problem, dude. I got us covered. I got words for days.”

“Months even,” Karkat added before ducking his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

Nudging Karkat’s side, Dave laughed. “Nah, man it’s true. I’ve got words for fucking years.”

Karkat smiled slightly. “Decades.”

“Centuries.”

“Eons”

“Until the next motherfucking epoch, I’ve got words, Karkat. So many words. All the words even.”

Karkat snorted, covering his face with his free hand. “Damn it, Dave. Stop making yourself likeable.”

“I think that’s the point of this whole thing,” Dave pointed out reasonably. “Dating, I mean. It’s not like the old days where your dad and my dad decide if you’re worth enough chickens to trade me for, you know. These days I get to decide for myself how many chickens I want to be traded for.” He gave Karkat a mock critical eye. “How about it, Karkat? How many chickens could I get for you?”

“I don’t know,” Karkat said, his mock serious tone almost too close to a serious tone for Dave’s comfort. “Let me look in my pocket.” He made a show of staring down at the pocket containing his free hand before sliding the hand out and flipping Dave the bird. “Is this enough for you?”

Dave laughed. “I’m sorry, Karkat. You must have at least five chickens to ride this ride.” He felt his face flush but pushed onward. “I guess you’ll have to settle for a movie, and maybe some pizza.”

Karkat was grinning, and Dave decided right then and there that he wanted to keep seeing it. “Maybe next time.” As though to intentionally spite him, Karkat frowned again. “Are we almost there?”

“Yeah, man, just a little further.” As they continued their journey to his apartment, Dave felt himself frown. What was Karkat’s deal? He was a lot more fun when he let himself be himself. Dave didn’t like meanness for meanness sake, but he enjoyed a good joke. For some reason, Karkat seemed to think he shouldn’t joke around? Why? His frown deepened. Karkat also apologized a lot. And he was so often deferential even when it was obvious he had OPINIONS he wasn’t sharing. The pieces were adding up to a disturbing picture.

Maybe after he was done hanging out with Karkat today, he should hit up Rose. She’d know what to do.

---

Karkat’s expectations for Dave’s apartment had been fairly low, and he’d been pleasantly surprised. While not as meticulous as his own apartment, there at least weren’t empty food containers on every surface or dirty clothes everywhere. There was an overall shabbiness though: the feeling that the occupant didn’t care overly much about the apartment’s upkeep. The futon in front of the television was ancient and threadbare as were the carpets. The posters hung on the walls were dusty and faded, and there was a sort of mildewy smell. Still, as previously mentioned it was clean (more or less), and there were no obvious signs of a hidden murder dungeon (not that there would be if there were one, naturally).

“Nice place,” he said for politeness’ sake.

Dave beamed like a little boy who’d gotten just what he’d wanted for Christmas. “Thanks. It’s not much, but it keeps the rain off.” He gestured towards the futon. “Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got apple juice. And water from the tap, I guess. I could go pick up some beer if you want to go that route, or--”

Karkat held up his hand, hoping to stem the tide of suggestions. “Water’s fine, thank you.”

“You’ve got it,” Dave said before tilting his head and making twin awkward gestures with both hands involving his pointer fingers. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

It wasn’t until after he’d disappeared into, presumably, the kitchen that Karkat realized he’d been making finger guns. What a dork. Not that Karkat was any more suave, but he liked to think he was at least less childish. He tried to supplant the rush of fondness he felt by recalling just how pissed he’d been with this manchild this morning. It was not one hundred percent successful.

Dave returned with two glasses: water for Karkat, and apple juice for himself. “Take a seat,” he insisted as he set the glasses on the coffee table (sans coasters). “It won’t bite.”

Gingerly, Karkat took a seat on the ancient futon. The padding was so thin, he could feel the bars beneath. It was going to take a while to become unbearable, and he hoped this hang out? date? didn’t last long enough for that to happen. Just as he’d been about to reach for the water, suddenly uncertain whether he actually ought to drink anything Dave gave him, Dave flopped down onto the futon beside him like a sack of gangly flour. “Dave!”

“S’up?” Dave asked, grinning.

“Don’t ‘s’up’ me--,” Karkat managed to stop himself from calling Dave an asshole, but only just. “Just don’t ‘s’up’ me. Speak like a normal person.” He realized he was making a mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Sorry, I--”

“Dude,” Dave said, his grin dropping away, “Karkat, you don’t have to apologise for every kind of mean thing you say. I’m a big boy: I can take it.”

Karkat supposed he shouldn’t be surprised: he’d never been good at pretending to be a good person. If he could have managed that feat for any length of time, he wouldn’t be in this position. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as dryly as he could.

“I’m serious.” Dave sat up and turned to face Karkat head on, and Karkat saw his own annoyed expression mirrored in the black lenses. “I haven’t known you very long, and maybe I shouldn’t say anything, but--”

“You’re right,” Karkat interrupted, feeling his tenuous hold on his temper slipping. “You shouldn’t say anything.” After taking a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to say anything he didn’t mean to, he spoke again. “Let’s just watch the movie and eat some microwaved popcorn. Does that sound like something we could do? Or would you like to keep pretending you have some deep insights into my character as though we’ve known each other longer than three days?”

Dave raised his hands, and Karkat realized he’d sounded far more aggressive than the situation warranted. At this rate, he wouldn’t even get a chance to lose this asshole! Nice job, Vantas: stellar work. “No, you’re right. I’ll step off.” Dave said softly. He got off of the futon with far more grace than he’d flopped onto it with. “You just put the movie in, and I’ll, uh, I’ll make the popcorn.”

Karkat watched him go before putting his head in his hands. Well, fuck. As though this whole situation hadn’t been awkward before. He should just leave. Just leave, forget about his stupid article, and stop dragging this stupidly likeable idiot down with him. He should.

He stayed where he was.

---

Dave took maybe longer than he absolutely needed to to prepare the popcorn. As much as he liked to consider himself a smooth operator, he could tell when he’d made a mistake, and he wanted to give the guy in the other room a chance to cool down. What made it made it worse was that Karkat had been right to get mad at him: Dave barely knew him. In his place, Dave would probably be pissed, too.

Even so, Dave didn’t think he was wrong about the conclusions he’d come to. It was obvious that Karkat was, for whatever reason, putting on a show for Dave’s sake. Honestly, it was kind of creepy. If he understood why Karkat felt the need to do that, he’d feel better about it.

But it wasn’t his business. Not yet. Maybe you had to reach a certain level on the boyfriend echeladder before that kind of thing was something you talked about. It would probably help if they were actually boyfriends and not just newly dating, too. There seemed to be at least one obvious solution to that problem.

Dave could be patient. After all, he still had eleven days or so to get Karkat to at least like him enough to be his plus one at Rose’s wedding. It wasn’t all he wanted anymore, but it'd be enough to start with. As Rose had so often told him, start with small goals.

He poured an obscene amount of butter over the popcorn in the bowl and headed out to the living room. Karkat was bent over, fiddling with the DVD player, and when he looked up at Dave, his mouth was curved somewhat upwards. “What movie do you have for us?”

Karkat stood. “Coming to America.” He made his way back to the futon and sat down as though worried he might fall through if he sat down too quickly. “It’s more comedy than romantic, so I thought you might enjoy it more.”

That sounded vaguely familiar. “Okay.” Dave joined him on the futon, taking care not to startle him this time. “Let’s get this party started.”

---

Karkat had hoped bringing a comedy would hold Dave’s attention enough to keep him from talking through the whole thing. He’d been mistaken. Yes, a lot of what Dave said was funny, but it just never fucking stopped. Finally, Karkat couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed the remote and paused the movie. Then he very deliberately set the remote back down. “I want you to listen to me, Dave. Are you listening?”

Dave looked confused, but he nodded. “Yeah, I’m listening. Do you have something you want to tell me? I’m all ears. Lay it on me.”

God, he couldn’t even listen without rambling! “Would it kill you to shut up?” He saw Dave’s eyebrows peek over the tops of his glasses. A part of him told him to reconsider his current course of action, but naturally, Karkat could never abide by a piece of good advice. “Would it literally cause you to drop dead if you couldn’t expel your idiocy out of your mouth like a goddamned septic pipe full of half-formed metaphors and bullshit? Would your head explode? Can we try that experiment and see what happens?” Karkat felt his fingernails biting into his palms and realized he’d clenched his fists. “What do you say, Dave? Wait, I’ve changed my mind: don’t say anything. Let me bask in the gentle ethereal glow of silence for a moment. Can you do that for me, Dave? Can you let me bask? Will the endless flow of words finally cease?”

‘No’ was clearly the answer to that question since Dave was already opening his mouth. Then, to Karkat’s utter shock, he shut it again. His expression wasn’t ever easy to read with those douche shades he insisted on wearing all the time, but now it was completely closed off. Even the eyebrows had lowered back to their original position.

Silence stretched between them.

Karkat felt sick to his stomach. Shit. Shit. He really just couldn’t do it, could he? Couldn’t pretend even for a few hours that he was a normal person. Well, so much for this experiment. Time to write off this little adventure. Was it worth even trying to apologise? Before he could decide, Dave made the decision for him.

He was clapping. “Damn, just got owned,” he said, a wide grin splitting his face. “You owned me, Karkat. You should feel proud. Not everyone gets own this,” he gestured to himself. “I just hope you know what you’re getting into: I’m barely house trained.”

For an embarrassingly high number of seconds, all Karkat could do was blink. “You’re not mad?”

“Fuck no,” Dave said, still grinning. “I’m a big kid now. I’ve graduated from diapers all the way to pull ups. It takes more than a finely crafted, well-deserved take down to take me down.” The grin softened. “This is what I was trying to say before: I want to date you, not some weird super agreeable version of you. If you want to tell me off for talking too much, fucking go for it. You’ve got a way with insults--it’s a gift. Frankly, I’m insulted you’ve been keeping it to yourself.”

“There’s more where that comes from, asshole,” Karkat said before he could stop himself. To his amazement, Dave still seemed more amused than anything. A strange mixture of anger and fondness welled up inside him. “Stop grinning at me, and watch the fucking movie.” He picked up the remote and hesitated. “You don’t have to be silent,” he said, still feeling a little guilty over his earlier outburst, “just maybe less talking?”

Dave made a big show of running a zipper over his lips. Then he immediately ruined it by saying, “Scouts honor, Karkat. My word is bond. You can cash that shit at the bank.”

Karkat tried to picture Dave as a boy scout and failed. “Right.” He pressed play and the movie resumed. Of course, Dave still talked during the movie, but the sheer volume of words had slowed to a moderate stream rather than the full-bore blasting Karkat had been subjected to earlier. As he sat there on the futon, occasionally answering Dave’s stupid comments with barbs of his own, he felt warm in a way that was only nominally connected to the temperature of the arm he was leaning against. He felt… content.

---

Overall, Operation Hang Out had been a big success. It had been rocky in places, but again, overall, Dave felt like he’d hit his major mission objectives. A movie was watched, pizza was consumed, and Karkat finally, finally, did something other than apologise every time a hint of the person he’d met at the cafe had come through. He didn’t necessarily want to keep pissing Karkat off, but that bitch fit he’d thrown had been epic.

Karkat wasn’t the kind of guy Dave had expected to find himself interested in. At least, he’d never thought he’d have a grumpy asshole kink. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the more quiet parts of Karkat’s visit, too. It had felt nice to sit on the futon with someone leaning against his shoulder. Dave wasn’t a sap, no, not a suave guy like him, but he couldn’t deny he’d like to do it again some time.

He considered texting Rose as he’d planned to earlier before deciding not to. After all, he’d managed the first crisis all on his own, and she might consider it cheating if he got her help. No, for now at least, this bird was flying solo.

---

* Clean apartment. Finger guns. Puts too much butter on popcorn. Also talks during movies outside theater setting. Likes getting insulted. Kink? Wants to date the “real” me. Delusional. Comfortable arm. Had a nice time. Had acceptable time. Clothes in his shower???

#Homestuck #Humanstuck #fan fic #my fic #wip

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no-error · 6 years ago

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Just little more klance again

More klance fics ive read.

Remember read author tags! There are some triggers, smut etc. So read with care yes?

the missing part

"I can hear your thoughts," Keith nearly whispered.Lance went pale, but that wasn't what Keith was focused on. Because he could feel the horror creeping up inside himself as Lance heard his declaration. Because he could feel his own heart skip a beat in time with Lance's. Because he could feel the rejection bubbling up inside him as Lance frantically worked out what all this meant."Wh—what are you talking about?" Lance said, stumbling over his words even while his mind screamed clear as day please say you're lying just say you're fucking with me don't play these kinds of games with me—

In which the paladins are subjected to the unfortunate consequences of a broken mind meld program.

20,357 words AO3

What a Healing Pod Can't Repair

The compromised wormhole was ripping apart at the seams, sending everyone spiraling away in completely different directions. Lance could feel himself being pulled and bent in ways he was definitely not supposed to be

Stitching the team back together after everyone is separated is difficult, and for one Paladin rescue wouldn't be coming for a very long time.

55,777 words AO3

Silver Tongued

One way or another,

His truth they will learn

Although perhaps the message

For them, incapable to discern

14,848 words AO3

I'll Walk on Water to Lend You Some Air

(I've Never Loved a Darker Blue Series not completed 29,895 words 2 works)

Keith comes out of a healing pod having no idea how he ended up in it. The other paladins won't fill him in but everyone is acting weird, especially Lance. Keith is determined to find out what happened but when another mission goes wrong, he may not get the chance...

11,403 words AO3

Love & Cheese

He’s a teenage boy, in way over his head. He’s a college kid, delivering pizzas on a bike that his mom bought for him when he was twelve. He’s a media major, a movie buff, and a total moron who’s madly in love with the snooty heartthrob at the Deli, who always gives him an extra slice of cheese. He’s a trainwreck, a total lovestruck fool, and a hopeless romantic who always says the wrong thing.

But today, despite everything, his one true goal in life is to tell the cute Deli-guy, loud and clear, “It’s not Lucas, it’s Lance.”

115,421 words AO3

nothing's quite as sweet

Keith is a barista who hates his job. Lance works at the cat shelter across the street.

50,369 words AO3

can you tell me

(Coffee and Crowns Series not completed 51,487 words 2 works)

Keith works in his brother's coffee shop for the summer, expecting a boring break before college. Lance changes all of that.

The boy is still in the front of the group, but he doesn't take off his glasses so Keith can't tell what he's really looking at -- either the menu or Keith. Keith feels a flash of annoyance but smothers it and pins his smile in place.

28,058 words AO3

The Bet

Something about the casual way Lance spoke to him, with easy grins and direct words that made Keith feel comfortable, but at the same time put him on edge. Like he wasn’t supposed to be feeling this ok around someone, not him. Keith, who barely had friends until college, shouldn’t have someone who could coax him into such a sense of security that he found himself agreeing to do things he’d never thought he’d do.

35,847 words AO3

of florists and tennis shoes

'Lance wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the brief tremble at the corner of Keith’s lips or not, that slight stutter that promised a smile. But before he could guess further, Keith gave his knee a shove and got to his feet. He reached out to him, “I’m done here, and I’ve still got some daisies to sell you.”

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, looking down at the extended palm, noting the little Saturn tattoo on the inside of Keith’s wrist where the sleeve hiked. He took the hand, “better not overprice those too, you asshole.”'

63,783 words AO3

Written on your skin

Keith is your typical troubled kid who's just trying to sort his life out. Things aren't perfect, but he's attending night school to get enough credits for university, he loves hanging out with Shiro and Matt on the weekends, and he's prepped to be the youngest member of his martial arts club to get his second Dan black belt. Things are looking up for Keith!

That is until strange notes start to appear on his arm.

They don't come off. At least, not when Keith tries to remove them. And they're written in handwriting that Keith knows isn't his.

So where are they coming from?

34,384 words AO3

Unknown (Series not completed 9 works, 123,151 words)

It’s been a few months since Keith’s dad remarried, leaving Keith at a new school with no friends, no mom, and no hope. The only thing that keeps him from going completely insane is Lance Fuentes, the charming, funny, and surprisingly intimidating boy that Keith’s been admiring (read: pining after) from afar since day one.After a bad day leaves Lance miserable and embarrassed, Keith takes a chance and uses the Garrison’s school messenger system to comfort him as an anonymous admirer named Unknown. What was supposed to be a one-sided message of hope turns into the strangest friendship in the school, and soon Keith finds himself closer to Lance then he’d ever dreamed he would be. But keeping a secret this big is hard--especially when a few chance encounters lead him to become friends with Lance in real life as well.Unable to explain to Lance that he’s Unknown, and equally unable to fade away as he’d first intended, Keith soon finds himself trapped in a web of secrets and lies. As he becomes desperate to keep his identity from being discovered, Lance becomes just as desperate to find out who Unknown really is. The question is, just how far are they willing to go?

82,141 words AO3

You and I Collide

Lance likes to sing in the shower.

Keith lives in the apartment next door and the walls are not very thick. And you can bet when Lance wakes him up at 7:30 in the morning, Keith has something to say about it.

72,256 words AO3

Follow My Lead

Becoming “hook-up buddies” with Lance Sanchez was just supposed to be a small, insignificant fraction of Keith’s life. But of course, things don’t work out that way at all.

117,792 words AO3

A Sky Full of Stars

Lance's life is hectic between his civilian and superhero identities - that is, until his soulmate and a new villain arrive to town on the same day. What's more, this villain seems to have a few secrets of his own and it's possible that, whoever is behind that mask, may not be who he claims to be. Lance is determined to figure out just who this Red Paladin is.

63,596 words AO3

Chivalry Is Dead

Prince Lance was an adventurer. That was all there was to it. So, when he's suddenly assigned a new knight to follow him around, all Lance can think is that his freedom is being taken away, and it's all because of the red-clad, mullet boy named Keith, who is honestly just trying not to lose his job on the first day.

61,071 words AO3

Jealousy Thy Name Is Keith A/B/O

Keith narrowed his eyes as he watched a large alpha lean close to Lance, saying something that caused the omega to bring a hand to his mouth and laugh as though it were the most dirty thing he’d ever heard.

Now that? That, was where Keith drew the line. He slammed the empty glass that had once contained alcohol, down onto the bar lined in purple neon lights, and made his way over to the omega, his friend, Lance. Keith draped an arm over the omega’s shoulders, smirking slightly.

14,268 words AO3

Fated

In a world of magic, Lance is a wizard and traveling performer. He possesses a special talent, the talent to read the fates of those he meets, which he uses to bolster his act. Life is good, though lonely, until he meets a hermit wizard named Keith, and both have their fates changed forever.

11,283 words AO3

fuckign witches

Keith Kogane wasn't really interested in the art of witchcraft until he found a small shop in the city - and it honestly was one of the best decisions he ever made.

38,111 words AO3

just like heaven

Keith's got a second sight that comes with a lot of burdens. One is being saddled with banishing an obnoxious spirit haunting Hunk and Pidge's cozy San Francisco loft.

The other is dealing with said obnoxious spirit, a guy named Lance, who doesn't remember who he is, who his family is, or what he did before falling into a coma.

But with Lance's life on the line, the pair make a deal to figure out how to save him, and fast. Along the way, they find out fate tied them together in more ways than one.

37,784 words AO3

Mr. Fahrenheit

Thousand of years ago dragons ruled the land. Burned shit. Caused a ruckus. Number one on everyone's shit list.

That stopped when Witchers, hunters of monsters and experts in combat and death dealing, arrived and drove dragons to the brink of extinction.

Now, less than a thousand dragons roamed the earth and Lance was one of them.

His new neighbor, Keith, happened to be a Witcher.

What could go wrong?

38,932 words AO3

Arrest Me, Officer, I Dare You

"Stay still! Anything you say can and will be held against you." Keith said, voice firm. Blue's eyebrows shot up and his eyes crinkled in what Keith could tell was a smirk. The same smirk that made Keith want to punch him.

"Officer Kogane." Blue replied, the name rolling off his tongue easily. "Does that mean you'll be held against me? 'Cos I'd happily let that happen."

Keith is a police officer who seriously wants to arrest a certain blue-eyed thief.

Though, things don't usually go as planned.

37,619 words AO3

#klance #vld #voltron #fanfic list #fanfic #lance mcclain #keith kogane #my list

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balorclubbabe · 7 years ago

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Good Girl

Chris Jericho/OC (smut): It seems that whenever he gets the chance, Chris is always teasing you about pretty much anything. Sometimes it’s flirty, other times it’s just plain annoying. You decide to give him a taste of his own medicine when you’re out at a party, and he doesn’t appreciate it one bit. (Includes some spanking, and a lil’ bit of sweetness at the end!).

Tagging: @1dluver13xx and @gamer705 !

Thank you all for being so patient with me! I hope you enjoy!

A few days from now officially marked my one-year anniversary of working in the makeup department for Smackdown Live. I absolutely adored my job, and getting to see the looks on the faces of both the male and female superstars when I was done made it all worth it. Plus as a part of the makeup department, this meant no public spotlight, no nerve-wracking interviews on live television, just getting to do what I loved the most. Though I was closer with some more than others, pretty much all of the superstars that I worked on were nothing but nice.

But of course like any workplace, sometimes you don’t get along with everyone. It can be for a number of reasons; conflicting personalities, different ideas, or just simply that someone just likes to do everything within their power to get under your skin whenever they got the chance.

For me, this person was none other than Chris Jericho.

I don’t know what I had said or done to become the target of the tall Canadian, because it all started fairly politely. He’d swing by and make small talk with whoever was in my chair, sometimes including me in the conversation. Then gradually it became constant teasing, sometimes flirtatious, and almost always obnoxious.

Despite all of this, I always tried my hardest to not let him see that he could really get on my nerves. Besides, just because he could be annoying didn’t mean he’s a bad guy, right? And it certainly didn’t mean that I wasn’t allowed to secretly be attracted to him. How could you not be? I knew not to take his words as actual flirting though; it was pretty clear to me that he had no interest in me in that kind of way. Besides, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one that he bothered constantly. Even though it did sometimes feel that way.

“You just have to ignore him, girl. If you show that it bothers you, he’ll just keep doing it.” Charlotte quipped from her spot in my chair.

I huffed, “I know. He’s just so obnoxious sometimes I can’t help it.” I lightly swept some glitter over her eyelids, light blue to match her peacock-feathered robe.

“Or because ya secretly enjoy havin’ him around to bother ya.” Becky added slyly, stifling a laugh.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, “Just because he’s handsome doesn’t give him an excuse to be such a pain in the ass all the time, Becks.”

Before Charlotte could presumably giggle like a schoolgirl, I began to apply the baby pink gloss to her lips, effectively shutting her up for the time being. “And I’m allowed to think someone’s good-looking, even if they’re insufferable sometimes.”

When I first started this job, I found myself clicking almost immediately with both Becky and Charlotte. The three of us spent countless nights in each other’s hotel rooms after long days, staying up late, watching shitty movies and eating junk food. You know, typical girly sleepover nonsense.

Both women had their own matches tonight; Charlotte’s being against Naomi and Becky squaring up against Natalya. I had finished Becky’s make-up already, bright reds and oranges for her whole steampunk “straight fire” look.

After a few more small touches here and there, I held up the hand mirror in front of Charlotte’s face, showing her the look. “All set.”

She grinned, “I seriously don’t know how you do it. You’re like a magician or something.” And turned her head side-to-side, admiring my finished work.

“I could say the same about the two of you. You guys are gonna kick some serious ass tonight.” Some of the moves I’d watch them-hell, any of the superstars do always left me awestruck no matter how many times I witnessed them. Charlotte’s moonsault, for example? I’d surely end up in a full body cast if I even attempted anything close to a stunt like that.

“Yer comin’ with us to Dolph’s party later, right?” Becky questioned, a hint of playfulness in her accented words.

Usually if a show or event was happening where someone lived, they’d show everyone else the best restaurants or bars in their town. Dolph Ziggler, of course always having to outdo everyone, instead opted to throw a huge party and invite the entire roster and then some.

She probably figured I’d try to come up with some sort of excuse to escape having to go, but unfortunately Charlotte was my last job of the night and I knew that she knew that I had no other plans. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Charlotte let out a laugh, “Somehow I doubt that. Seriously though, it’ll be fun. We both know you could use a drink. Then after we can come back to the hotel, watch some crappy T.V. and raid the minibar.”

The pair turned to leave and as I finished cleaning off the last of my makeup brushes, Becky leaning over and whispered in my ear, “I think ya have a visitor.”

It was then that I noticed Chris had been lingering outside the door, scribbling on his list, probably writing some poor stupid idiot’s name on it because they bumped into him or some other petty offense. I let out a small groan; I’d literally never hear the end of it if he knew that I thought he was handsome, so I could only hope that he either hadn’t heard it or had just gotten there. He was usually the type to make his presence known in a room, so I was hoping for the latter.

Charlotte gave me a knowing smile before disappearing down the hallway, following Becky, leaving me alone with my favorite pain in the ass.

I gave myself a brief mental pep talk before opening my mouth. “Can I help you?”

His eyes flitted up and met mine, a smirk painted on his face. “Just seeing how you’re doing. Or am I not allowed to swing by and say hello?”

I shrugged, turning back around so I could begin cleaning my workstation and packing my things away. Thankfully all I had was my purse and my rolling trunk with my makeup supplies instead of the copious amounts of gear that some of the superstars had to lug around city to city. I was relieved that I had the foresight to drop my luggage off at the hotel earlier. “You are. Just figured you wanted something.”

He entered the room behind me, idly watching my movements. “So you’re really going to Ziggler’s tonight huh?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, “Don’t sound so surprised, Chris.”

Chris now had his list tucked underneath his arm, “Sorry. You just don’t really strike me as the partying type, princess. No offense.”

“Oh no of course, how could I be offended by that?” I continued, zipping away my make-up brushes, the sarcasm evident in my tone. There was his stupid nickname for me again. I had asked him about it the first time he had called me that and he responded with a shrug, and an, “It suits you”. Protesting would just egg him on, so I usually just let him get away with it. And I’d never admit to anyone that I secretly thought it was kind of cute.

Chris chuckled, “Well I’ve never seen you at any gatherings outside of work-related ones. I just assumed they weren’t really your thing.”

With my trunk packed away, I turned towards him. He was blocking my only exit out of the room, meaning he likely wasn’t just going to let me walk away without pushing my buttons a little more.

I brushed some hair out of my face, “They usually aren’t. But Dolph was rather persistent so I’d at least like to make an appearance. Besides, just because I don’t love parties, doesn’t mean I’m some antisocial hermit.” With a huff, I managed to squeeze past the scarf-wearing, list-making jerk, making my way down the hall and towards the parking lot.

I thought he’d leave me alone after that but I heard his voice and footsteps following close behind me. “Didn’t say you were antisocial. Just having a hard time picturing you drunk, dancing in a short, tight, little dress. You know, considering what a good girl you are.”

I had to stop myself from physically freezing and my face from heating up at his singsong tone. “And what makes you think I’m such a ‘good girl’, Chris? If I’m being honest, I don’t think you know all that much about me.” I decided not to touch on the idea that he had perhaps pictured me in the short, tight little dress he spoke of.

I wasn’t looking at him, but I could practically hear the shit-eating grin that must have been plastered on his stupid, handsome face. “I’ve been in the business a long time, princess. I don’t have to know you; I have a sense for these kinds of things. And I know a good girl like you when I see one.”

I knew any insults or comebacks would just add fuel to the fire so I continued walking, thankful my car was just a few short strides away. He continued to go on, clearly unbothered by the fact that I wasn’t acknowledging him as I began to load my belongings into my vehicle.

“Or maybe I have you pegged all wrong. Maybe you’re a cute, modest make-up artist by day, and a sexy, dancing on tables, wild party girl by night.” I think he realized how ridiculous he sounded, but just couldn’t help but continue on with his elaborate scenario.

I rolled my eyes, shutting my trunk, “You think I’m cute? Or sexy, was it? I’m flattered. And sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have a crazy, partying alter-ego.”

“Well I guess I should be flattered too, princess. Considering how good-looking you seem to think I am. Or did I hear that wrong, was it handsome?” he said slyly, causing my heart to sink a little. Fuck, he had heard me.

I spun around to face him, mainly to give him a firm goodbye, while trying not to let him see how much he had rattled me. I certainly didn’t expect him to be directly in front of me, so that all I saw when I turned to face him was his broad, muscular chest. (Because of course he wasn’t wearing a stupid shirt underneath that stupid light up jacket).

He had a smug look on his face, and I thought he’d sneak one last comment in, always having to have the last word. But all I got was a, “See you tonight,” before he turned around and strolled back into the venue.

I let out a frustrated groan, climbing into my car and slamming the door shut, making my way to the hotel for the night. Normally I’d stay around to talk to Becky and Charlotte after their respective matches, but that ran me the risk of encountering Chris again, which required patience I did not have in the slightest.

After almost an hour had passed, I received a text from Charlotte informing me that she and Becky were heading back to the hotel soon. I decided to call her, giving her the rundown of my encounter with Chris, mainly just so I could vent to someone.

“God he is just so fucking insufferable! I have no idea how one man manages to be that aggravating!” I angrily paced at the end of my bed, still fuming slightly. I wish I had been able to say something, anything to him. Admittedly, him standing so close to me had rendered me speechless, making me want to kick myself.

“Calm down, honey. You know what you have to do now, right?” I couldn’t help but detect the faintest hint of mischief in her voice.

“I know, Char. I just have to ignore him.” I huffed, plopping down onto the bed.

She giggled, “At first, yes.”

“At first? And then…?” I trailed off. Where the hell could she be going with this? Unless her next words were something along the lines of “burn all of his scarves” or “rip up his stupid list” I wasn’t too sure what she was going to say.

“You ignoring him will drive him crazy after he sees how good you’re gonna look tonight.” She sang.

Tonight? Oh yeah. I had gotten so annoyed with Chris that I had completely forgotten about Dolph’s shindig tonight. Charlotte promised to be at my room as soon as she could, having just pulled into the hotel parking lot. After hanging up the phone I learned that “as soon as she could” was less than 10 minutes, with Becky in tow for assistance. Turns out, they happened to be right down the hall.

Charlotte did most of the scheming if I’m being honest, but I’d be lying if I said Becky didn’t seem like she was fully enjoying herself as well.

After much debate and trying one dress on after the other, the pair managed to decide on a dress that they (and, admittedly I) thought was perfect for tonight.

Dolph enjoyed throwing overly lavish gatherings and would usually (unless it was a pool party) instruct his guests to dress up for the occasion. That’s how I wound up in a sleeveless maroon cocktail dress with a neckline that dipped low enough to generously show off my cleavage and a simple pair of black stiletto heels.

The three of us called a cab after getting ready and made the short ride over to Dolph’s home. My nerves were all over the place, but thankfully Charlotte and Becky were with me to ease my worries and made sure I didn’t get cold feet at the last second.

“Don’t sweat it, yeah? He ain’t gonna know what hit ‘em.” Becky grinned at me with a wink.

I wasn’t used to dressing up so formally around my co-workers, which was evident by several pairs of eyes that found me as we walked into the party. I was grateful again for not being alone, because normally I’d be considering running in the other direction back out to the cab.

Charlotte whispered, “You look fantastic, I promise. Now remember, act like he’s not even here. If he comes up to you, pretend you didn’t even notice him. Like you’re surprised he’s here.”

Dolph approached the three of us, donned in his finest attire as well. “Ladies, glad you could make it! Food and drinks are in the kitchen.”

Charlotte gave my arm a small squeeze before going to mingle, while Becky assured me she’d be back with drinks for the both of us. Dolph and I hadn’t really talked much aside from casual conversation, so I was hoping this wouldn’t be too awkward.

Dolph ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair, grinning at me, “You look great.”

I smiled, “Thanks. You’re lookin’ pretty good yourself.”

Initially, I wanted to make it pretty clear to Dolph, considering that he had a reputation as being a huge flirt, that I wasn’t really interested. Nothing against the guy, I just wanted to make sure he didn’t get the wrong idea. That was until I spotted Chris from the corner of my eye, staring directly at us while engaged in conversation with AJ Styles and Sami Zayn.

Surely this is what Charlotte meant when she said to drive him crazy, right? Chris Jericho had done nothing but get under my skin since I’d known him and now it was time for me to return the favor. Not only would I be ignoring him, I’d be diverting my attention to someone else; more specifically, another man. And again, I had no intentions of doing anything with Dolph, but Chris didn’t have to know that right now.

“You really do have a beautiful home, Dolph. Feel like giving me the grand tour?” I nudged his arm playfully.

Dolph smirked, placing his hand on my lower back and lead me down the hallway that was to our left. “But of course. Right this way.”

To my surprise, Dolph was pretty into the whole “home décor” thing, droning on about cabinets that were made of cherry wood and tiles that he had imported from who knows where. I wasn’t really paying too much attention if I’m being honest, because every time Dolph and I would move through the main foyer, I felt a certain pair of blue eyes on me.

By the time my tour had come to an end, I’m not sure how much I had smiled and nodded, but Dolph didn’t seem to pay any mind. He was probably just happy that someone was able to listen to his whole spiel without dying of boredom.

“I have to go and greet some more guests. I’ll see you later though.” Dolph, ever the gentleman, kissed the back of my hand, shooting me a wink before disappearing to go play host some more.

Considering I hadn’t seen Becky with my drink since before the tour, I made my way into the kitchen to fetch my own. Dolph had an array of expensive looking liquor bottles lined up on the counter along with pristine crystal glasses.

“Enjoy your tour?” I had to stop myself grinning like a mad woman as the voice behind me spoke. Of course he’d come and find me the second I was alone. Maybe because every time Dolph said something that was supposed to be remotely funny, I’d burst into over-the-top laughter, making sure others could hear. Or how my hand would linger on his arm for a few seconds while I spoke to him.

“I did. I didn’t realize Dolph was such a connoisseur of interior design.” I didn’t turn around as my eyes danced over the various bottles. So many choices, and half of these brands were pretty much foreign to me.

To keep it simple I just grabbed the first open bottle of white wine I saw and poured myself a glass. As I turned to make my leave, Chris was, much like earlier, blocking my exit, his own drink in hand. Probably bourbon or whiskey, I guessed, judging by the amber-colored liquid.

I hated to admit it, but he looked especially handsome tonight. He wore a crisp white button down shirt underneath the open black suit jacket, matching his pants. Even in my heels, he still towered over me. Instead of the grin that I was accustomed to, his facial expression was hard to read; not anger, but definitely a hint of annoyance.

He smirked slightly however, when he noticed me looking at him for maybe a little longer than I should have been. “See something you like, princess? Something good-looking and handsome, maybe?”

I took a sip of my drink, moving past him nonchalantly, making sure to deliberately brush against him as I did so. “Just surprised you’re not wearing a scarf.” And made my way over to the corner where I had been able to spot Becky, (Let’s face it; her hair is pretty hard to miss in a crowd) who was chatting away with Tyler Breeze and Fandango.

The night went on as I spent the rest of it in the company of Charlotte and Becky for the most part. Chris hadn’t attempted to speak to me again after our brief conversation, and a small part of me was a little disappointed. On the other hand though, it was rather satisfying to finally give him a taste of his own medicine.

Over the course of the few hours that I was there, I only had two glasses of wine yet I still felt exhausted. I had to admit though, it wasn’t as awful of a night as I thought it would be. Going to a party as large as this one with two of my closest friends definitely helped ease the usual nervousness I’d be experiencing.

The three of us took a cab back to our hotel after bidding goodbye to Dolph and the other guests that remained. I didn’t see Chris as we made our rounds to say goodbye, and I assumed he had already left. Even if he hadn’t, I certainly wasn’t going to go hunt him down.

I was too exhausted for the usual late night sleepover, so I bid Charlotte and Becky a ‘goodnight’ before making my way to my own room for the night. I couldn’t wait to kick off my heels, get into something comfortable and pass out as soon as my head hit the pillow.

That was until I saw him, leaning against the wall right across from my room. His jacket was gone, probably in his own room, his white sleeves rolled up to his elbows with a few buttons of his shirt undone.

I felt his eyes practically burning a hole into the back of my head as I swiped the key to unlock my door and pushed it open, allowing it to close behind me. I turned around when the door didn’t click shut, and I saw the blue-eyed blonde standing in the doorway, holding it open. “You need something, Chris?” I asked innocently.

He brows knitted together in anger, “What the hell was all that?”

I didn’t answer, instead tossing my heels off in the corner, flopping down onto the queen-sized bed with a sigh. I lucked out this time around and somehow ended up with my own room instead of having to share.

“Well?” he demanded, arms crossed over his chest. Clearly he wasn’t planning on leaving without an answer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I finally made eye contact with him, and he did not look happy.

“Bullshit, you know exactly what you were doing tonight.” He walked into the room further, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. “Ignoring me when you walked in, hanging all over fucking Ziggler of all people,” he scoffed. “And, when you finally do talk to me, it’s barely even five fucking words.”

I laughed, “Ohhh I see how it is. You tease me all the fucking time and it’s fine, but when I do it back it’s suddenly not. What’s that old saying again? Don’t dish it if you can’t take it?”

His eyes narrowed, voice dangerously low as he moved further into the room, now only a few feet away from me. “Is that what all this was really about? To purposefully annoy me? To make me jealous?”

I shrugged, a coy smile on my face. “Didn’t realize I made you jealous.”

He suddenly chuckled, “Well congratulations,” he paused, gently taking me by the arm and pulling me so that I was standing up. “I was jealous.”

The only sound I could make was a small squeak of surprise as Chris slammed his lips onto mine, one of his hands entangling itself in my hair. He took my being caught off-guard as an opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth.

I eagerly reciprocated his actions, pulling him closer to me as I wrapped my arms around his neck, his free hand settling on my lower back right above the curve of my ass.

“Do you have any fucking idea how hard it was for me to not bend you over his kitchen counter and fuck you?” he murmured against my lips. “To make you scream for me so that he knew-so that everyone knew that you’re mine?”

All I could do was whine in response as I feverishly returned his kisses, squeezing my thighs together to provide myself some relief.

“I thought you were a good girl, huh?” he whispered huskily as his mouth came against my neck, lavishing it with kisses. “Good girls don’t dress like this for everyone to see.”

“It wasn’t for everyone, it was for you.“ I was feeling suddenly brave, my head spinning from the sensation of his lips on me.

“Yeah? Just for me huh?” his hot breath washed over my neck as he spoke. “No one else? You sure, princess?” His hand that wasn’t in my hair crept down to squeeze my ass through the fabric of my dress.

I nodded, “Yes. Fuck, Chris, yes. Only you, I promise.” I managed to whimper the words out as his teeth scraped against my collarbone.

“You gonna show me what a good girl you are, baby?” his stubble grazed against my cheek as he came up to kiss me again.

Again I nodded, my arousal and want for him was almost palpable at this point, my hair messed and my lips kiss-swollen.

“Get on your knees for me then, princess.” He sure as hell didn’t have to tell me twice. I hurriedly dropped down to my knees, undoing his belt without taking my eyes off of him.

His hardened cock sprung free before me after I undid the zipper, and I immediately gripped it with one hand, running my tongue over the entire length, eliciting a groan out of him.

I took him into my mouth, almost gagging as he lightly pushed the back of my head to take more of him. I kept my rhythm slow, teasing his head with my tongue after taking him almost all the way out of my mouth. I repeated this a few times, tailoring my movements based on how loud his moans were.

Just when I thought I’d have to make him stop pushing the back of my head, he pulled me off of him, allowing the air to flow back into my lungs.

He yanked me back up to his level, while his free hand crept up my thigh, coming into contact with my soaked panties. “Don’t want the fun to end yet. My turn to take care of you, princess.”

He pulled the flimsy fabric of my thong to the side, easily sliding a finger into my wetness. “Fuck baby, how long have you wanted this?”

I could feel his smirk against my neck as his fingers continued to work. “Have you thought about this before? Letting me fuck you?”

His words were barely registering in my mind through the haze of pleasure that was slowly creeping over me. I let out a satisfied sigh as his thumb began to gently rub my clit. Just as he had built up a steady pace, he stopped, causing me to cry out in frustration.

“Answer me, princess.”

At that, I found the strength to speak, “Y-yes! I have. More than once.” The idea of him stopping what he was doing was too much right now.

“You gonna cum for me already?” he sounded almost impressed as he picked up where he left off.

Before allowing me to answer, Chris shoved me onto the bed, climbing in between my spread legs and dipping his head down.

I almost leapt off the mattress the second his tongue touched my slit, his fingers working their way inside me again. “C-chris fuck, please!” I whined, gripping his blonde locks for dear life.

He pumped his fingers in and out of me at a steady pace as his tongue traced zigzagging patterns over my clit. The sensation of his mouth and fingers, combined with the sandpaper-like roughness of his beard rubbing against my thighs sent me over the edge. I let out a cry as my orgasm rolled through my body, my hips grinding against his face, desperate for friction.

He rose back up to where I laid panting and sloppily pressed his lips to mine. I felt his hand traveling under my dress again only to rip my soaked panties down my legs, causing them to tear slightly on the way.

I groaned in protest, but his lips continued to devour mine. “I’ll buy you new ones,” He promised as he helped rid me of my dress and bra as well.

I felt my cheeks redden as his eyes lingered over my naked form, “You’re so beautiful,” His hands were now on either side of my cheeks, punctuating each of his next words with a kiss, “I’m so fucking lucky.”

My mouth opened slightly in surprise, unsure of what to say, because I swore in that moment I’d see a flock of pigs flying outside my hotel window. Chris Jericho had sincerely complimented me in the most intimate of ways. Not the usual, “Nice dress baby, but it’d look better on my hotel room floor” type lines he’d always be running by me.

Pushing my thoughts to the back of my mind, I hastily unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way, desperate to feel more of him, considering he was still almost completely dressed. As I pushed the fabric off his shoulders, I ran my fingers over his muscled chest, his skin warm to the touch. “I don’t know, I think I’m pretty lucky here too.” I mumbled, pressing a kiss to torso.

He didn’t answer but let out a low chuckle, assisting me in pulling his pants the rest of the way down and off of him. I heard the two soft thuds of his shoes being kicked off and hitting the carpet.

He turned and adjusted so that he was seated against the wooden headboard, bringing me up with him.

I felt a blush stain my cheeks again as I climbed to settle myself over him, planting small kisses all over his face and neck as I lowered myself onto his cock. Instantly, my eyes squeezed shut as he filled me inch by inch until I sunk down completely.

“Shit you’re so damn tight, princess.” He exhaled a deep breath, not moving for a few seconds and instead just kept still inside of me, allowing me to adjust. “You alright?”

I slowly rolled my hips against his, giggling when I heard him grunt. “Does that answer your question?”

He growled as I continued to ride him at a pace so agonizingly slow that even I felt like it was torture. “Fucking shit, you’re still teasing me, aren’t you?”

I didn’t answer, instead I rose up, circling my hips excruciatingly slowly, biting my bottom lip.

Suddenly his hands were at my waist as he picked me up and slammed me back down onto his cock, smirking when I cried out his name. “It takes two to tango, princess. You didn’t think I’d let you get away with teasing me like that, did you?”

My brief period of control had ended as Chris thrust into me at brutally a harsh pace, coming forward to shower my neck in more kisses and the occasional bite. “Chris, please, please more,” I tried to keep up with his motions as he would lift me almost all the way up off of his length, just to slam me back down again.

“Such a good girl,” he hummed in approval. “You look so beautiful riding my cock like that,”

I let out a sharp gasp when I felt his right hand remove itself from my waist, only to draw back before coming down hard on my ass.

Chris’ eyes widened slightly, “Oh fuck princess you alright? Sorry, sorry I got a little carried away there.”

Before he could slow his motions, I moved against him, whining desperately. “Again. Please, do it again,”

The look that came over his face was something I had never seen as he spanked me again, causing me to cry out. He did this a few more times, alternating each cheek until I was practically sobbing out his name. “Guess you’re not such a good girl after all.”

The slight sting against my skin as Chris fucked me was a feeling that I had never experienced before. I only had a handful of sexual partners, and none of them had ever even attempted to spank me. Then again, I had never asked for it.

“I think next time you tease me, I’ll just have to drag you into my dressing room and spank you to teach you a lesson,” he seemed thrilled at the idea, his hands now lightly squeezing my ass. “Fuck princess, don’t stop riding me like that. You feel so fucking good,” His thrusts became more shallow and desperate, indicating that he was also nearing his climax.

His words only helped draw my orgasm closer as I felt myself begin to tighten around him. “Please Chris, I’m so fucking close! I want to cum so badly. Baby, please let me cum,”

“I want you to cum for me, princess.” He commanded. “I want you to fucking soak my cock. Want to see the look on that beautiful face when you come undone because of me,” I could see the light sheen of sweat that had formed on his forehead as he grunted with each pump into me.

With one more powerful thrust, I felt myself tip over the edge as I began to spasm and writhe against him, my fingers gripping his shoulders so hard that for a split second I thought I’d bruise him as I chanted his name over and over again.

I felt his hips stutter slightly as he gave one last hard thrust, his eyes squeezing shut as he spilled himself inside of me, his grip on my waist finally loosening. “Jesus Christ, princess…” he sighed.

Reluctantly, he scooted downward so that he was lying on his back, with me still draped over him. Our bodies sticking to one another, I laid my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slowing down back to a normal rate. I smiled when I felt his hand lightly playing with my hair, smoothing it down and running his fingers through it.

I finally broke the silence, “I should tease you more often if this is what I get out of it.”

“You should,” he paused, running his hand down to my ass and giving it a light tap. “If this is what I get to do every time.” He frowned when I yelped in surprise at the small sting of pain. “Still sore?”

I nodded, “Still sore.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, “Sorry princess.”

“Don’t apologize. In case you couldn’t tell, I kinda liked it.” I nuzzled his neck.

He chuckled, “Not just for that. Sorry if I get on your nerves sometimes,” he shot me a joking glare when I did an exaggerated clearing of the throat. “Alright a lot of times, not just sometimes. Guess I’m not great at making it clear when I’m…interested in someone.”

“Chris Jericho, are you saying you like me?” I gasped playfully, leaning my chin in my hands. “Because if so, not for nothing, that’s sort of like telling a little girl a boy is mean to her because he likes her.”

I saw him frown, “I’m kidding, relax,” Before he could open his mouth, I brushed my lips against his, a laugh bubbling up in my throat. “And I’m interested in you too. Why do you think I let you mess with me so much? I just always assumed you were like this with everyone.”

The faint sound of my phone buzzing in my purse reached my ears, and I shook my head, burying my face into his chest with a yawn. “Leave it. Probably someone from the party drunk-dialing me or something,”

Chris glanced at the source of the noise, then shrugged, wrapping his arms around me and stifling his own yawn, “Sleep well, princess.

Meanwhile a couple of rooms down, Becky peered over at Charlotte from her bed, “Did she answer ya?”

Charlotte frowned and shook her head, hitting the red ‘End’ button on her touchscreen. “No. I sent her like 4 texts too. So unless they’re still going at it, I think they’re both asleep.” Charlotte penned one last message, simply reading, ‘Details tomorrow over breakfast! Becks and I want to know EVERYTHING ;).’.

#Chris Jericho #Chris Jericho imagine #Chris Jericho smut #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe smut #wwe oneshot #chris jericho x reader #wwe fanfic

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luvnhugsgt · 4 years ago

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G/T: Everybody Loves Me: Chapter 2

***Five years later…***

“Nice to meet ya’!”

I look up at the beautiful girl’s face, taking a minute to scan from her feet on the ground up to her peppy, warm countenance. She swiftly props herself down close to the floor and scoops me up in her hand, taking me into a warm embrace—you’d think we’ve known each other forever, the way she’s adoring me.

I pat her collarbone a few times, kinda like a “bro hug”, and in that vein, I can tell this is going to be a real ladybromance—I don’t even think I could avoid that outcome if I wanted to with this chick. This close-up, I’m realizing that I’m experiencing some abstract form of deja-vu—I must have seen her before? That’s awful strange, though, that I’d recognize her—I’m sorrowful to admit to you that I don’t generally remember faces very well; it’s not that I don’t care about people. I just meet so many!

“Haha, aren’t you the social butterfly! I’m Diamond. You’re welcome to call me “Di”. That’s what my best friend always called me-“

“Are you kidding, Diamond—Di—I know who you are!” She grins.

Oh boy, here we go. I try to fight my disappointed reflex and maintain a cheery attitude to match hers. I don’t want to fake it ��till I make it, either. I want to be in the moment with her; actually embrace her upbeat energy, as I’m getting the vibe that it’s a sincere one. One that would still be here for anyone, despite that I’ve got this unshakable notoriety.

“Say, Tiffany, you look just a bit familiar. Have you ever—um, not to make this beautiful moment awkward at all—but have you ever, I dun’no, asked me to sign something? Maybe took a selfie with me?” I shrug.

“O-oh, no, I’m certain I’d remember that!” She giggles. “I’m kind of obsessed with your show. But if you want to take a selfie for my Insta-!” I smile and find her honestly endearing—oh, there’s that pang of familiarity again…?—and gesture for her to take out her phone, as you would gesture for the driver across the way to go ahead of you. Exuberant, she whips out her iPhone and follows through, and I smile wide. She shows me the picture and I notice that, finally, my eyes are matching my curled-up mouth, and I seem to be convincingly—no, sincerely—happy to be there.

“Have y’ever cohabitated with a Bel before?” She asks me casually, tucking her phone into her back pocket. I’m not used to this—I would’ve bet good money that she’d get distracted, investing a few minutes immediately posting the shot and getting her lucky fix of instant gratification by tagging me and watching the likes pour in…

…But, she didn’t…

And I just can’t shake, that that really reminds me of somebody. Who?! I believe her that she and I haven’t met before, but if that’s the case, who’s the girl she is reminding me of? I haven’t had a whole big social circle, contrary to popular belief. I’ve pretty much had two, maybe three, buddies come-and-go over the years, one of such friends closely dear to me. I choke back a tidal wave of emotion thinking about her, wondering where the time went, and compartmentalize it back to the recesses of my brain so I don’t screw up this moment, of which I promised I’m trying to be present.

No, my best girl isn’t like this, admittedly very charming, young lady at all.

“I’m sorry if I’m a little bit starstruck… Di!” She can’t seem to camouflage a little smile. She rubs the back of her neck timidly. “This reminds me of the time my brother had a run-in with a celeb at the mall. Guess what!”

I tilt my head slightly at my new roommate, wondering if I know this other star. “What’s that, Tiff?”

“He acted all aloof when he told me at dinner, like he wasn’t even fazed! Haha, well, I guess you’re the wrong person to tell, having lived in LA and probably partied at lotsa’ star-studded afterparties, huh?” She smirked in good-humor.

I feel my eyes crease into endearment again, too amused to point out that I haven’t actually lived in LA, nor have I attended any of those afterparties I’ve been invited to in years, figuring also that it’d be obnoxious to bring up sed invitations. “Yeah?” I chirp, trying to saturate my tone with as much suspense as I can muster. I see that innocent look in her brown eyes and feel this indescribable pull to make her happy. “Who was this superstar! Don’t leave me hangin’!”

“Oh my GOSH, Di, don’t even remind me—he literally refused to tell me! ‘Said I’d freak out, which honestly just got me more curious!”

I raise my hand up to my chin like The Thinker, and it crosses my mind that it might be me.

“What mall was he at—do you know?”

“Well, my brother’s not one to give many details, but I’m betting it was the Belshore Passage Mall.” Ah, that’s the mall right next to the Bel Parine-North America tunnel. It leads right to Tampa, where I’ve lived for the past seven years. Now, I’m almost sure it’s me, since hardly any actors I know live there—I stay there for my privacy. If it’s not apparent, I do like to keep my shenanigans low-key, guys.

I squint in recollection, secretly excited to see her cute reaction. “I live right next to Tampa, ya’ know. I’ve actually lived there since 2011,” I nod. “Bellshore Passage Mall was one of my favorite places to chill,”—when I wasn’t dodging the general public—I decide to finish off in my own head, not wanting to traumatize the younger gal like a child who sees Trashy Mall-Santa™ go out for a smoke.

Her draw drops like an agape manhole, “WHAT!” She exclaims, promptly mumbling “ohmygoshI’msorry”, realizing her tone. She quickly tightens her lips; I figure she’s trying to watch her manners, maybe because she’s trying to make an extra-specially-good impression, since it’s considered impolite for a Bel to open their mouth too-wide for too-long in front of a human (put two-and-two together! I don’t want to get into that awkward conversation, you sick, sick people!) “It was YOU?!” She whisper-shouts, tilting her head like a puppy trying to understand.

“I mean, can we know for sure? No, but-

Oh-Oh my goSH!” My face lights up, in actual epiphany this time.

She looks startled, “What?! What?!” Let’s face it, at this point, we’re freaking out as loudly as two middle schoolers saying ‘What’s up, guuuuuurl!” to each other in the hallway.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure it was me! Well, I’m pretty sure! You remind me so much of someone—of course, my mind went to girl first, but it must be your brother!” I put a hand on my hip in triumph. “What does he look like, Tiff?”

“Ooo, ooo! He’s got brown hair, usually messy, kinda’ spiky. A little bit ‘2008-hot’”, she grins, looking like she’s trying to keep-it-together. (I raise my eyebrows, mouthing, ‘Jenna Marbles?’, and she mouths back, ‘You know it!’) “He’s got a little stud under the corner of his lip. Some stud earrings that go with it. Oh! And a big tattoo of a tidal wave on his right arm. Can’t miss it, it’s so big,” she hypes, “especially for yo-oh gosh, I shouldn’t have said that, that was rude of me, I didn’t mea-“

“Nononono Tiffany, none of that apology sh*t, I’m not one of those humans,” I wave dismissively. I can’t shake the crystal-clear memory of both the tide-tat and the butterflies in my tummy from that day at the mall; I hadn’t mused on it for a while, actually. I went a whole month since thinking about it! Usually, I think about it every two weeks. I’m behind on schedule! I frown at the disappointing truth that it didn’t go anywhere, and I was too—what’s the word, intimidated?—too call the boy back. Heck, I didn’t even know his name. He probably is thinking to this day that I could care less about him, if he even remembers meeting me… It’s an incredibly rare event for me, to be intimidated; I’ve had the mantra in my mind, “I love it when people treat me like my inner ordinary girl,” but I’m going to be real with you, here. Something about it made me shy. I’d felt a little ‘exposed’, not like a stupid beauty guru, but a hermit crab without its shell.

I glance at my ring-finger where my grandpa’s tourmaline ring used to be and sigh, earning a concerned look from Tiffany. Yes, I lost it again. I don’t go anywhere—well, ever—but when when I actually do, it’s the Bellshore mall. It’s kind of humiliating, but I’m glad that wherever it went, I escaped the public ridicule of having lost it. Right after the sick moment I first noticed it was gone, Grandpa reassured me that he wasn’t upset with me; “it’s just a ring, an object, is all,” he said. But that doesn’t stop my hands from feeling naked. Now, not only is it attached to my grandpa’s happiest days, but the one happiest day of my life, too. I swear, for the whole year after that fateful day with Tiffany’s brother and the pink, glossy jewel, still adorning my hand, I could see his reflection in it… to be so consumed with a man you just met… and a Bel, at that! It’s like I need something; I need to get that ring back if I’m ever going to get my mind at ease.

“Why the long face?” Tiff coos, her hand stroking my back protectively.

“Tiffany, wait! This is my chance!” It dons on me, and suddenly, I feel ready to move into a bigger shell.

#malegiant macro micro sizedifference ginattiny romance malexfemale gtfluff femalegiant ff fluff friendship gentlegiant gentlegiantess gentle

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damienthepious · 5 years ago

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y’all already know why i’m here let’s just cut to the fic yeah? love you love youuuu

Something That Matters More

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, The Keep, Rilla, Sir Caroline

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin' Tuesday, Seasons of the Citadel, Pre-Relationship, Canon Compliant, Suicidal Ideation, (canon-typical and kinda vauge but still), Alternative Perspective, Angst

Summary: When the Keep finally wakes again, Arum is still curled with his back against the front door.

Notes: The third and longest of my pieces for the @seasonsofthecitadel zine!

When the Keep finally wakes again, Arum is still curled with his back against the front door.

Perhaps he should have slept while the Keep did the same, but his mind races and roils without the buffer of his home, the soft influence at his edges. He cannot possibly rest while his thoughts are circling so, while he is haunted by the memory of Amaryllis’ voice and eyes and justified hatred, while the consequences of the loss of the Hermit loom large above him, while his knowledge of the Senate’s intentions grips him by the throat-

The Keep sings like stretching, a deep gradient of sound, and Arum scrambles to his feet again and he is relieved in a way he did not know he could be. His Keep is-

(saved, and he lifts Amaryllis without thinking, her warmth in his arms and her laughter in his ear and-)

Awake. Aware, again. It hums slow satisfaction and greets Arum with gentle vines and informs him that it believes the petrification has been reduced by half, at least, while it slept.

It pauses for a long moment then, and Arum can feel the Keep shivering off the metaphorical dust, can feel it pulsing its consciousness throughout the structure, taking inventory of itself besides just the shrinking blight. It hums confusion, and then-

A question.

Arum flinches, and drops his eyes.

“Gone,” he says, quiet. “Long gone by now, I should think.”

The Keep trills, confusion and concern and disappointment, and Arum… well, Arum agrees, but he cannot bring himself to say so. He sighs.

“The cause of your illness has been discovered, and we have made steps towards recovery. Amaryllis kept her end of the bargain.” His shoulders sink and he clings to the vines the Keep has draped around him. “I kept mine. We’re even, now. It is finished. She is gone.”

There is another pause, the feeling of a sigh drifting through their link. Then there is another sensation. A strange flicker of attention as the Keep takes stock of their wider territory, and then a sharp little lance of worry.

Arum tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, and after a moment he understands.

“Still… she is still in the swamp?” he asks, though he already knows the answer. “She should have reached the edge by now, no matter which direction she chose. She should be… well on her way back to her h- back to that Citadel. Why…”

Arum and the Keep feel out into the swamp together, reaching and searching, and they recognize the danger at the same moment.

The amalgam- the vicious little construct that Amaryllis created in her bid for escape-

It is still alive. Alive, and quite close to where Amaryllis is, right at this very moment.

“Keep,” Arum says, frantic. “Keep please I- a portal, now, bring me close, I must-”

He pauses.

“I must hold up my end of the bargain,” he finishes, voice uncertain. “If… it is not… if she does not escape my swamp alive, I have failed to satisfy our deal.”

This explanation is, by any estimate, unnecessary. The Keep is already constructing the portal as he speaks.

He has to wait an impatient moment as the Keep brings him a set of knives, but as soon as he is armed he is through to his wilderness, and he hears Amaryllis’ voice that very same moment.

“-and if we don’t get back and tell the Queen—” she says, her tone sharp, and Arum flinches hard when he hears another voice. Another human. The bisected corpse of the amalgam lies in the mud a few feet away, and the Keep informs him belated moments later that the creature is already dead.

“It sounds like we’re running out of time, then.”

Arum buries an instinctive hiss at the mocking in the unfamiliar voice. He creeps closer, slipping into the branches above as silently as he is able. An argument, then? Why would this stranger, a knight judging by the armor and the sword, why would they destroy the amalgam and protect Amaryllis only to speak to her so unpleasantly?

“We are!” Amaryllis cries, and Arum slips just close enough to see her from above, then, through the green. He sees her glaring up at the other human, her jaw set and her lips turned stubbornly down. She has only been away from him for so brief a time, but still he feels her presence again so keenly, so strangely.

“A fact which concerns you greatly.”

“It does,” Amaryllis grates out.

“Then in that case, I think you ought to get on with it,” the knight says, “and tell me: where is the lizard I must slay?”

Arum does not breathe, for a moment. It does not look as if Amaryllis breathes for that moment, either.

“Please…” Amaryllis says, and her eyes are wide and desperate, and Arum does not understand why she is hesitating. “He’s…”

“He’s what?” the other human says, hungry and eager.

There is a breath of pause, and then Amaryllis’ shoulders sink, her head drooping. “He’s… that way,” she says, halfway a sigh, hopeless and dull.

Arum is not disappointed by this. He is not surprised. He held this human against her will, kept her a prisoner, and despite any understanding they may have come to, they were only ever going to be enemies when all was said and done. A war is on, he had told her, and clearly she understands that. Arum is a monster, responsible however indirectly for countless deaths, and soon to be responsible for countless more. It is perfectly logical for her to explain to this knight where to find him. How to kill him. He never asked for her forgiveness, and he never expected it. He is not disappointed-

But when Arum pushes past the pressure in his lungs, when he makes his eyes focus on Amaryllis again, she is pointing in the wrong direction. She is pointing- as near to the opposite direction from the Keep as she could possibly manage.

Arum stares, his claws digging into the bark of the tree he is clinging to. What is she- why-

Her shoulders are tight, and when the knight looks in the direction Amaryllis is pointing with a satisfied half-smile, Amaryllis’ eyes raise again, narrowed and angry for only a moment before the knight turns her attention back and Amaryllis flattens her expression to something resigned.

She is- Amaryllis is-

She is aiming the knight away from Arum and his Keep. Deliberately. Intentionally.

Arum cannot focus on the words that follow, because he is staring at the little doctor, his mind turning and turning as he tries to reconcile that knowledge, the idea that she- that Amaryllis- that she would protect him. That she is protecting him. That she would look a knight in the eye and lie for him.

The knight is helping her move, now, and Arum understands what Amaryllis means to do only a moment before they step into the sunlight. Into the patch of gold, pooling among the duller green.

A stubborn, stubborn part of him wants to leap to save the Hermit, to protect it from that light it so dearly desires, but-

Arum knows what it is, to cling to the desire for life for so very long. An unceasing and unrelenting toil, because to loosen his grip on that desire will spell his end. Yes, Arum knows how it feels to live because he wants to live in some obstinate, contrarian way. To live because he must.

Arum knows, also, how exhausting that is.

Perhaps the Hermit deserves to rest, now.

It chimes one last time before it is kissed once, and only once, by honeyed light.

Its creations, Arum’s creations- those that remain will live on, their impact yet to be seen, but the potential of the Hermit ceases in an instant. The knight complains, but Arum is not listening. He spares attention for Amaryllis’ deflection only because he is- he is unsure he has ever seen her fully in the sunlight before.

He does not have the words for Amaryllis in the sun. Not even in his own mind. Some moments are too big for such small things as words. He hopes this moment is not too big for memory, as well.

He feels her absence, stretching into his future like a missing limb, like a wound. She steps out of the narrow shaft of light, and Arum’s eyes follow her. Of course they do.

She is brighter, by far, than the light she leaves behind.

Arum exhales, slow and unsteady, and forces himself to stop watching as she walks away. He- he came out here to ensure that she would not die before she left his swamp, he reminds himself, and he needs not worry himself over the matter, now. His assistance is not required.

She is with a knight, one dangerous enough to slay a magical construct that even he and his Keep failed to effectively destroy. Amaryllis will be safe, even if the knight seems- obnoxious and unpleasant. She will be safe. She will be…

He stills, claws digging into the wood.

No.

No, Amaryllis will not be safe, even with her grim-eyed bodyguard. She will not be safe.

She will leave his swamp with her eyes sharp and her heart still beating strong, but out there, out in the wider world, out with the rest of her kin-

She will die.

The thought hits Arum with the force of an arrow as he watches them walk away, the knight urging Amaryllis ahead of her despite the limp and the shoddy crutch. The both of them are going to die. All of them. Amaryllis, and- and every human. The entire Citadel. The place Amaryllis claims as home. If the Senate is successful, if they manage to force his prototype into a quicker growth-

They are all going to die.

Arum already knows this. Of course he does. Arum knew, when the Senate came to him, what they intended. He knew, with the power of the Hermit, that their goals might even be possible.

He knew, and did not care. Or- worse. He cared only that the end of this war would mean that the Senate would have no call to ever contact him again, or to conscript his services. If the war were to end, if humanity were eradicated-

It would have been convenient, for Arum.

Convenient. Amaryllis dead, and he would never have…

Without her, his Keep would be dead as well. He has no misapprehensions about that. And now, now she has aimed this knight of the Citadel away from him, and from his home. She has destroyed a tool she could have used to defend her people (he knows she is clever enough to learn to use the Hermit to its potential, he has no misapprehensions about that, either), but she chose to destroy it rather than allow it to be used and misused, and Arum-

Arum would have destroyed her, sight unseen.

(Would have destroyed Sir Damien, as well. Another bright, stubborn, fascinating creature he never would have known, another clever, infuriatingly charming-)

She is gone now. Step by step, further and further from Arum and his Keep. Far, far beyond him. Arum is alone in his own domain again, just as he desires. Alone, and the Keep on the mend, and he could simply return home now. He can tuck himself into the safety of his Keep and duck his head and wait to see who triumphs, the humans or the Senate. He can hide away in safety as he has always done, until the dust settles at last on this pointless conflict.

But there are consequences to his actions, and there are consequences to his inactions, as well.

If the humans perish, he will bear his share of responsibility for their fate. He will have their blood on his claws.

(He has already suffered honeysuckle’s blood on his claws.)

If the Senate destroys them, it will be with the weapon Arum created.

Arum chose not to kill Sir Damien in their duel, chose to let him stand and fight again. He chose not to kill Amaryllis, chose to let her walk away.

It is- ridiculous, of course, but-

Arum could be content to continue on alone, secluded from the world, if he knew they were somewhere, safe and bright and alive, even if they were far from him. Knowing that they will die, from his action and inaction-

It is unacceptable. He cannot bear- he could not endure it.

If that is the price for his survival, Arum- Arum refuses to pay it. He would rather pay his own life than theirs.

A strange realization to come to, ten feet in the air with his claws digging deeper by the moment into bark. He releases his grip on the poor flora at last, and drops down to the muddy ground below. He steps closer to the little pool of sunlight where the Hermit met its end, but he does not quite step into the light.

There is no trace left of the bloom, not a glimmer of magic or a sprinkling of dust.

The Senate intends to use Arum’s creation in their plan, but it is still… flawed. Slow-growing, unpredictable, and perhaps just as dangerous to monsterkind as to the Citadel, despite the focal object Arum managed to obtain.

… perhaps Arum could petition the Senate for the opportunity to amend those flaws. Perhaps, if Arum could just get close enough, he could-

Arum could… what? Sabotage the thing? Endeavor to destroy it? Even if he were successful, he would never survive the attempt. The Senate would annihilate him, burn him out from his bones, and then-

(Amaryllis aims the knight towards a false trail, fire in her dark eyes, and holds the Hermit out in sunlight)

(Damien gives a scrap of silk not his own, and allows Arum to rise again)

(the nature of caring is sacrifice)

And then, even with Arum dead, Amaryllis would be safer. Honeysuckle would be safer. The Senate would not even be able to then use Arum’s talents or the Hermit to further endanger their species. The Keep would grow a new familiar to follow him, and the Universe would continue on as it always has.

It is not a meticulously constructed plan, but it is not without merits, he thinks with a breath of grim laughter. The Keep will certainly not approve, but the Keep nearly died because Arum failed his duty as caretaker, because he failed through inattention to both of their needs.

Perhaps the Keep deserves a better Lord than he.

He will not resign himself to that fate, though. Despite all likelihood, he will choose to believe that he will survive this mad new strategy. In any case, he would rather not cause the Keep to mourn, and he suspects, as well, that Amaryllis would disapprove of that sort of hopelessness.

He crouches down and reaches to scrape up a clawful of rich, wet soil, watching as some tumbles dark between his fingers to find the ground again. He smiles, wistful, and tucks the dirt into a satchel at his side.

Arum will come home, if he is able. If the universe grants.

But first, there is something more important he must do.

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #seasons of the citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lizard YEARNIN tuesday freal tho

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