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luvdsc · 4 years

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mark lee sucks at technology.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No cookie?”

“... and a cookie. Maybe two.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“... No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You take a deep breath. “This.”

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

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

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

“Definitely not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we do number three again?”

“Yes, we can, Eggy Boi.”

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

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

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

One new notification: donutkillmyvibe uploaded a new video!

moominjun commented:

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

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

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

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

morklyrawr replied: hahahahaha stfu hyuck

tytrack commented:

mark is going through puberty. I apologize

dobunny replied: @.@

goofys.chuckle commented:

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

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

goofys.chuckle replied: uh gotta blast 🚀

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

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

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

moominjun replied: LMFAOOOOO

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

jenojam commented:

why am I not surprised……

itsmebetch replied: just mark thingz 🍉

suhprisemf commented:

mark your head looks flat af

jungjaeprince replied: 😂😂😂

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

letswonwon commented:

whoop whoop

junguwu commented:

OMG CONGRATS ON YOUR RELATIONSHIP SWEETIE 😍😍

takoyaki_prince commented:

MARK!!!!! you look handsome !! 😘

jisungpwark commented:

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

bigheadking replied: F ✊🏻😔

peachyangel replied: f 🥺🥺

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

donutkillmyvibe replied: F 💔

morklyrawr replied: @ donutkillmyvibe wtf babe????

officialgordonramsay commented:

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

apado_god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

3K notes · View notes

miraculouscontent · 3 years

Note

I’m almost afraid to ask but what happened in the episode?

Full summary time (get sad and angry in advance):

(stating for the record, I do NOT want to see Marinette salt in the reblogs or replies)

- Gabriel is mixing ingredients to fix the peacock miraculous. Duusu emerges when he puts it on and exclaims that she feels so much better, like she was in a nightmare before where she got into evil hands. Nooroo dejectedly tells Duusu that it's not a nightmare and Gabriel transforms.

- Cut to Marientte. She's trying to figure out the Miracle Box and Tikki is trying on little hats. Marinette asks if the kwami are inside and Tikki says "yes," though apart from Duusu and Nooroo. Marinette asks about Fu letting them out, but Tikki tells her that only those with a holder can go out. Marinette worries about the Miracle Box being cramped for them, but Tikki assures her that there's a parallel universe inside for them, though admits that it's more interesting being out with her.

- Marinette pushes the top button on the box, causing the kwami to emerge and go free. Marinette screams, falls, then questions why they came out, to which Tikki says that the box is in her likeness now that she's guardian: full of surprises!

- Trixx is reading her diary, Daizzi is flicking her lamp on and off, Ziggy is playing with her phone (which is currently showing that Luka is trying to call her), and Kaalki phases through the window to look outside. Marinette hurries to grab Kaalki, but a child notices her and Marinette comes up with a quick excuse about Kaalki being a toy that's not for sale.

- Xuppu and Stompp are playing on Marinette's keyboard, flicking on the news, then Alya calls Marinette from the monitor. Marinette hurries over and Alya is concerned at her clear panic, but Marinette simply asks if she likes her plushie. Alya doesn't see Kaalki at all and Tikki explains that kwami can't be seen or heard through technology, leading Marinette to lament that she just looks silly. All this time, there's been a flashing in the background, and Ziggy notes that what Tikki says makes sense because she can't be seen on "this magic painting" (flipping Marinette's phone over to show that all the camera took was her Adrien wall).

- Rose asks to see the plushies and Marinette feigns ignorance. She then panics more and her friends are concerned. Roaar questions how her friends got inside the image on the monitor. Daizzi comments that they're cute and wants Alya specifically to be their wielder. Trixx insists that she's taken and Mullo complains/wonders why Trixx is allowed a wielder and not them.

- Alya, already exasperated, says that she's being weirder than usual. Marinette excuses it with talk of getting exercise and Alya pieces together (in the rudest way possible) that all of Marinette's absurdities must mean--and all the girls chime in to ask if Marinette is at Adrien's house.

- The phone rings and Ziggy throws it. Marinette catches it and stammers, "LUKA!" then fumbles with the phone before it hits her keyboard and shuts the call off. The girls sigh, "Lukaaaaa," and Juleka mumbles something unintelligible, leading all the girls to exclaim that, "It's so cute!" (I--...sure, okay, just flip flop to whatever and have no proper reaction.)

- Meanwhile, Marinette answers the phone and Luka thanks her for the picture. She doesn't understand and Luka explains that she texted him a picture of her room--and Adrien. Marinette scrolls through her messages to see that Ziggy had sent him the picture she had taken earlier of her wall.

- Marinette panics and tries to excuse it by saying that it's a series of fashion pictures for her blog and wanted his opinion, in the process accidentally calling him "Adrien." Luka chimes back that "his name is actually Luka," and Marinette panics further, doing the same thing again before correcting herself, rambling on and on until she says, "it's just that I cheated on you--I mean, I got confused!"

- Luka insists that it's fine and asks if she's ready. She doesn't get it and Luka tells her that they have a date (Sabine is also going upstairs to see Marinette directly despite Luka literally being on the phone with her). Marinette hurriedly shoves all the kwami in the box and stashes them away, begging them to be nice and then heading downstairs.

- Sabine asks about the date she was meant to have with Luka yesterday and she says that she forget. Luka reminds her that they'd postponed because this is the last session and they can't afford to miss it. Marinette doesn't remember what they were going to see and Tom rambles about how it came out again and "it was already so dumb fifteen years ago," leading Sabine to comment that it was his first movie. Luka admits that the movie is dumb but he and Marinette are such big fans of "his" that they swore they'd go see it together. It clicks with Marinette and she cheers excitedly about how they're going to watch Jagged Stone's first movie. Luka asks if she forgot and Marinette insists that she didn't because "she definitely didn't have other emergencies to deal with," then rushes Luka out.

- Luka and Marinette are heading to the movies and trying to compete with each other to guess song lyrics to some of Jagged Stone's songs while they're getting their drinks. They sit down in the cinema and Marinette verses Luka on a song about "my guitar is my only family," which is apparently a song he really loves. Marinette congratulates him for winning the game and calls him "officially" Jagged's biggest fan and adds that he "deserves a prize for it," giving him a pink gift box. Luka opens it and is amazed by the guitar pick necklace inside, to which Marinette explains that Jagged came to the bakery the other day so she asked him to sign it for the present.

- Luka states that the gift gives her the right for a second round and recites another song lyric. Marinette takes a moment to figure it out, then excitedly recites the remaining lyrics: "KISS ME!!!" She gets embarrassed when she realizes that she blurted it out so loudly, to which Luka smiles and says, "If that's what you want." Marinette gets sheepish at what he'd done, but agrees, saying that... yes, she wants to.

- The kiss is interrupted by an akuma attack and Marinette has to make an excuse to get away. Tikki questions her if she's going to leave Luka alone (...seriously? we’re doing this now???) and Marinette points out that she can't tell him the truth.

- Ladybug shows up on the scene to what seems to be Mister Pigeon (he's not shown but it's an airplane made of pigeons), and she's listening to a message from Chat Noir that she presumably got earlier, stating that he's ready for patrol. While she's listening, Chat Noir sneaks up and pranks/surprises her, to which she grabs his wrist and yeets him off into the distance. Realizing what she did, she yoyos him back and he slams into the window. She scolds him because she could've hurt him and Chat Noir states that "the only thing that hurts him is when she leaves him alone for patrols" and how he "even missed her angry looks." She reminds him that she's been busy and he says that he knows because she's guardian now. Ladybug promises not to forget patrol again and they go off to fight Mister Pigeon.

- Cut back to Luka, who's feeling sad because the movie is over and Marinette still isn't there. Marinette returns and makes another excuse, to which Luka just smiles sadly. Cue montage of Marinette getting ice cream with him, him picking her up from school on his bike, both of which end with her having to rush off. Cut to a scene on the Liberty where Luka is about to dedicate a song to Marinette, "a girl..." and then looks to see that she hasn't arrived "...who, as always, isn't here." Marinette does show up, but the damage is done.

- Later, Marinette and Luka are walking along underneath a bridge while Marinette is making another excuse. Luka shushes her and tells her to listen to the water because if you're in this exact place, you can "hear a melody." Marinette listens for it and calms herself, after which Luka explains that he never knew who his father was and his mother never wanted to tell him who he was, so whenever he was upset over it, he'd go there to think. He asks her where she goes when she disappears and Marinette struggles to answer. Luka assures her that he'll accept whatever she says and will understand if she's still in love with Adrien, adding that he won't be jealous either. Marinette tells him that "it's not, definitely not," and Luka tells her that all he asks for is the truth. Marinette, torn, has to admit that the truth is the only thing she can't tell him.

- Visual representation of Luka's heart breaking is shown (Luka turns white, black background, a zoom out, and a crackling noise). Shadow Moth sends his akuma+feather combo and it hits the necklace that Luka is wearing. Shadow Moth tries to make a deal with Luka, but Luka resists, insisting that the truth should be shared and not taken by force, also calling him "Shadow Moth." Marinette glances up at the name, confused, then apologizes and begs Luka to resist. Shadow Moth asks why Luka resists when Marinette doesn't trust him, to which Luka insists that she does. Marinette echoes that and assures Luka that she trusts him, but Shadow Moth states that - if she really trusted him - she'd tell him the truth. Luka's mental state is finally broken and he falls to his knees, only able to beg Marinette to run before he's taken over by the akumatization energy. Marinette flees and Luka transforms into Truth with his sentimonster Pharo.

- Marinette transforms into Ladybug and then the scene cuts to Truth landing on the Liberty. Pharo traps Alya in its spotlight, freezing her in place, after which Truth shoots her, turning her lips white. He asks her what Marinette's secret is and Alya says that she's in love with Adrien. Truth tells her that that's not a secret and shoots Mylene next, who says the same thing. Frustrated, Truth insists that it can't be the only thing. Ladybug is hiding nearby, taking on her yoyo to Chat Noir about how Hawk Moth merged his power with the peacock to become Shadow Moth.

- Rose insists that Marinette doesn't have secrets because she's "the most honest girl in the world." Truth tries to shoot her, but Juleka jumps in the way and gets shot instead, though her answer to Luka's question is just more unintelligible mumbling. Ladybug makes herself known and Truth starts shooting her, though she dodges. She lands on the deck of the Liberty, then gasps as she notices the necklace-turned-akumatized-object on Truth. "Luka?!" (I'm just--I--she saw him being covered by akumatization energy--I--)

- Her shocked state allows for Pharo to hit her with the spotlight. Truth shoots her, but before Ladybug can blab her secret identity, Chat Noir swoops in to save her. Shadow Moth shouts at Truth to give chase, but Anarka shows up and demands to know what Truth is doing on the ship. In response, Pharo freezes Anarka and Truth shoots her, calling her "Mom" and asking who his father is. Anarka replies that it's Jagged Stone. Luka's eyes go round in disbelief and he asks again, getting the same answer. Truth apologizes to Shadow Moth, but insists that "this truth can't wait," jumping off into the distance.

- Meanwhile, Ladybug and Chat Noir have gotten out of the water that Chat and her hid in. Chat Noir assures her that he'd never try to take a secret from her by force, and Ladybug points to his belt to indicate that he hand it to her. He does so and she wraps it around her mouth to prevent her from speaking.

- Jagged Stone is playing a song for Prince Ali (by the way, the song production in this episode is terrible; Rose and Jagged since like they're trying to be off-key, made worse by the fact that Rose was singing the unicorn song that they could've just copy-pasted from "Silencer") when Pharo descends and hits him with the spotlight. Truth shows up and demands to know if he's Jagged's son, to which Jagged replies that it "depends on who he is." Ladybug and Chat Noir show up and Pharo goes after them, though Truth still manages to hit Jagged with his beam, explaining that he's Luka Couffaine and he "has a right to know the truth."

- Jagged admits that Luka is his son. This shocks Ladybug and Chat Noir, the latter of whom gets hit by Pharo's spotlight. Truth, distressed, asks Jagged why he hid it and abandoned him, to which Jagged apologizes but insists that he was "too lame to take care of a child," having spent his whole life on tour and now living in a hotel with a crocodile; he "never could have been a good father."

- ...In fact - he says - it actually resulted in a great song, unknowingly reciting one of Luka's favorites as he explains the it was, "my guitar was my only family." Truth, enraged, grabs Jagged and yeets him off into the sky. Ladybug acts quickly, hitting Pharo with her yoyo so she and Chat Noir can give chase. Shadow Moth demands that Truth go after them, but Truth apologizes and states there's still one truth left that he needs to know.

- Ladybug and Chat Noir manage to save Jagged, avoiding Pharo's eye until Jagged is properly safe. that done, they hop off, thoughTruth has already landed in Marinette's house.

- Truth hits Tom with his beam and asks what Marinette's secret is. Tom repeats the "she's in love with Adrien," line, to which Truth then shoots Sabine instead and asks if Marinette has a diary. Sabine tells him that she does and Truth marches for her room, though is briefly (very briefly) stopped by Tom.

- Meanwhile, Pharo thinks he sees Ladybug and Chat Noir and shoots them, though it was actually just some cardboard cut-outs seen earlier (Truth has a telepathic connection to it and congratulates it for its success), allowing Ladybug and Chat Noir to freely head for where Truth is.

- The kwami freak out at Truth ransacking Marinette's room and worry about Truth finding the Miracle Box. Xuppu wants to do something but Wayzz reminds him that their powers are too strong without a wielder, reminding them of when Plagg sunk Atlantis.

- Ladybug and Chat Noir arrive and Truth summons Pharo telepathically, meaning that Pharo is on its way. Ladybug indicates the necklace to Chat Noir with a tilt of her head and Chat Noir activates Cataclysm. Truth and Chat Noir go back and forth for a bit until Chat Noir tells Ladybug to use her lucky charm, to which she indicates the binding around her mouth. Chat Noir tells her to remove it because he has a plan... then gets knocked down almost immediately by Truth. Truth starts to ask for Ladybug to tell him--but Chat Noir kicks him down and finishes the question by asking about his top three qualities. Ladybug tells him that she's impressed by his self-confidence, his courage, but what she prefers most is his humor. Chat Noir and Truth go back-to-back some more and Truth tries to ask Ladybug again, but Chat knocks Truth away and finishes by asking what she uses when all seems lost. Ladybug uses Lucky Charm (no Charm suit) and gets aluminum foil.

- Pharo plows through the wall and spotlights Chat Noir. Truth shoots him and starts to ask his identity, but Ladybug blocks Pharo's eyes and cuts in to ask what Chat Noir thinks of her being guardian, to which Chat Noir states that it doesn't bother him so long as nothing changes between them.

- Chat Noir fights Truth while Ladybug covers her decorative umbrella in foil. Truth dodges Chat's Cataclysm and Ladybug intentionally pulls Pharo forward so Pharo is struck instead. Pharo proceeds to go nuts and Ladybug yoyos it and jumps on top, directing its spotlight towards the foil-covered umbrella that Chat is now holding. The light reflects onto Truth, freezing him, and Ladybug hits Truth's necklace. Cue Miraculous Ladybug.

- Ladybug and Chat Noir hop up to a roof and Chat comments on how much fun he had. Ladybug describes what just happened and is like if that's fun for you then yeah. Chat idles on Shadow Moth's name and Ladybug shows confidence that they'll catch him in the end, after which they banter a bit and Chat Noir tells her that it's "only with her that he can have so much fun."

- Cut to Marinette and Luka, now on the bridge in the location he was before. Marinette tells him that she doesn't want to lie and starts to suggest that it might be better for them to break up, but Luka steps forward and hugs her before she can say "break up" specifically. She hugs back and he assures her that he'll be there for her whenever she's ready. Marinette shuts her eyes tight, pained, and buries her face into his shoulder.

- Luka is later walking back to the Liberty, depressed, when he sees Jagged Stone idling near the gangplank. Jagged approaches, hugs him (Luka hugs back), then states that - if there's one thing he knows how to do (specifically calling Luka "son") - it's turning emotions into great songs, then suggests that he and Luka write one together. Luka smiles, though it looks a little bittersweet.

- Marinette, meanwhile, is crying on her bed, saying that - now that Shadow Moth is a threat to the people she loves - she can't have a boyfriend because it's too dangerous. The kwami approach and Kaalki expresses confusion at the "strange liquid coming out of her eyes." Trixx explains that they're tears and it's "too sad" (while the way-too-happy ending track is starting to kick in, by the way). Daizzi asks if they're meant to do something and Marinette tells them to "just give her a hug." The kwami swarm her to do just that and the episode ends.

#((In exchange for me writing all of this down I expect all of you to provide me with quality Lukanette content and salt about this episode.)#category: episode summaries #episode: Truth #other: ml spoilers

125 notes · View notes

babbysquid · 3 years

Text

Not A Whiskey Drinker

Author’s Note: Okay weeee I’m super excited about this. I’m really happy with how this first chapter turned out and I already have plans for future chapters. I am such a sucker for Whiskey and I can’t wait to write more.

Warnings: some slight cursing

Length: 1,934 words

------------

For as much as you loved New York City, you absolutely hated its winters. Snow in the countryside was beautiful; white and fluffy, it stayed perfect for days on end. Snow in the concrete jungle however; wet, slushy, and turned disgusting in a matter of hours. Trudging your way through Central Park, the snow and salt crunching beneath your feet, you mind drifted. You had just been let go from you recent job, a personal assistant at a high end marketing office. Sighing to yourself and thinking about the possibility of moving back home your foot slipped. Before you could catch yourself you shut your eyes tight, preparing to land hard on your ass. But that smack never came. Opening one eye you were standing face to face with…

“A cowboy?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow at the man in front of you.

“In the flesh.” came the sweetest accent.

Opening your other eye you realized that the cowboy in front of you had snaked a hand around your waist. No wonder you hadn’t fallen. A beat passed and you realized the cowboy still had his arm around you. You stepped away and out of his hold.

“Thank you.” you said, giving an awkward cough and taking a closer look at you savior.

Not to be a cliché, but he was tall, dark, and handsome. Atop his head was a black Stetson, an odd sight in the middle of New York City. He had a perfectly trimmed mustache, and a small smirk underneath it. You silently thanked the cold for hiding the blush that crept up your face. The redness could easily be passed off as a flush from the biting wind.

“Anytime darlin’.” he said, shooting you a wink with eyes that you felt could swallow you whole. “Anyways, I best be on my way.”

Giving you a dazzling smile, he tipped the end of his hat with a gloved hand and brushed past you. You could’ve sworn that his hand grazed yours, but because of your thick mittens it was hard to tell.

Shivering slightly to yourself, you pulled your coat tighter around you and continued your walk to your apartment.

------------

Unlocking your door and sighing to yourself you looked around your small studio apartment. It wasn’t much, but over the past year it had become your home. Shucking your jacket off you headed to the couch and sat down to pull off your shoes.

‘Guess I won’t be here much longer’ you thought to yourself.

After making yourself a steaming cup of tea you decided you may as well look at your email. Two days ago when you were told of your “dismissal” you had signed up for a couple different job search sites. If you were lucky enough maybe someone would offer you an interview, but your hopes were low.

You crossed your legs underneath you trying to generate as much heat as possible. As much as you loved your tiny apartment, it was an older building so the heating was shit to say the least. You clicked on the mail icon on your desktop and silently prayed to yourself. 10 new emails. Maybe there was hope.

10 Kale Dishes That’ll Be Sure To WOW Your Houseguests!

WARNING — WE HAVE DETECTED MALWARE

Most of the emails were similar to those: junk and spam, until your eyes landed on the last email.

RE: Y/N Y/L/N Job Opportunity FOUND!

Your eyes widened at the subject. Clicking on the email you realized that it wasn’t a scam, it had really come from one of the job search sites. Swallowing hard you hoped that it wasn’t just an offer from one of those salad making chain restaurants. You had your fair share of beginner jobs; barista, Subway, etc. After getting a taste of something more professional, you knew that that’s where you were meant to be. Besides, the pay that Starbucks gave was certainly not enough to live in New York City on your own.

Dear Ms. Y/L/N,

My name is Mr. Daniels and I am writing to inform you of opening at Statesmen Brewery, the New York City branch. I have been in search for a PA since my previous one left. After reading your resume I have become very interested in your skills and talents. Please let me know what days you are free in the coming week.

Jack Daniels

Head of Statesmen NYC Branch

You snorted at the sign off. There was no way someone’s real name was Jack Daniels and worked for a brewery. It was comedic to say the least, but there was no harm in responding to his email and getting an interview. Maybe this was your chance to stay in the city you loved, even if its winter was disgusting. Taking a sip of your tea you started to write out your response.

Mr. Daniels,

Thank you so much for your offer. I am very interested in an interview and am free Monday all day. Please let me know what time is best for you. Is there anything specific I should bring besides a printout of my resume and documents?

Thank you for your consideration,

Y/N Y/L/N

It was currently Friday so you had the whole weekend to prep yourself for the interview. If you were honest, the idea of an interview created a small pit in your stomach. It had been over a year since you’d been interviewed for a job.

May as well do some research on Statesmen.

Pulling open a new browser you typed in ‘Statesmen Brewery’ and clicked on their website. Clearly the company had some tech savvy people working for them as their website was modern and easy to navigate.

Statesmen Brewery has been brewing fine whiskey since 1885 and serving people all across the country and world.

No wonder you never heard of the company, you had never been big on whiskey.

The brewery had its start in a small barn in Kentucky and has since expanded to include two offices in New York, New York and Los Angeles, California. While our reach is wide, we consider every employee and consumer of our alcohol a close family member.

The rest of the front page went on to describe their whiskey and how smooth it was, as well as some fun facts about the company. You closed your laptop and picked up your tea, holding it close to your face and letting go of the tension in your shoulders that you didn’t realize was there. Before you could fully relax you heard your phone buzz on the couch cushion next to you.

It was your best friend Parker. When you first moved to NYC you decided to visit a small bookstore/coffee shop and accidentally grabbed the wrong drink. Turns out that drink belonged to Parker. She had come to the coffee shop to work on a script for an up and coming TV show that was set to be filmed in the city. The two of you became fast friends. You were slightly jealous of the girl as she really had landed her dream job.

Opening the text she had sent it was a photo of her holding a script she had written. Her round face was pulled up into a smile, her auburn hair slightly frizzed from what seemed to be an all nighter. You smiled at the photo and read the text that followed.

Guess who just finished her first script for SVU!

Quickly you typed out a response:

Congrats! Proud of you P. I have some good news too. Landed an interview with a fancy brewery.

Suddenly your phone buzzed nonstop, Parker was calling you.

You pressed the button to answer the phone and before you could say anything a scream hit your ears.

“AHHHHHH I’M SO EXCITED FOR YOU!!!!!”

“Haha, thanks Parker. Honestly I’m a bit nervous. I did some research and the company seems to be a pretty big deal.”

“What’s the company?”

“Statesmen Brewery.”

“Oh shit my parents love their stuff.”

“I literally know nothing about whiskey other than the fact that I don’t like it. I feel stressed. The interview is on Monday.”

“I’ll come over tomorrow and help you with prep. Also you know I gotta help pick out the perfect interview outfit.”

“Thanks babe. You’re the best.”

“I know.”

You snorted at her response. Parker was confident, and more importantly confident in you. The thought of having her help you prep eased the knot in your stomach.

------------

The rest of the afternoon was spent talking to Parker over the phone. Eventually the two of you ended your call and you were left to do some random chores around your place. As you mopped the floor you slipped a bit but caught yourself before you fell over. Your mind flashed back to earlier in the day.

At the time you didn’t realize how strong the cowboy’s grip was, but it was not overpowering. You remembered how gentlemanly he was. Looking back on it you tried to remember his face. While it was a short interaction, you couldn’t deny that he was easy on the eyes. Sighing softly you tried to remember the last time you went on a date. It had been several months ago. Your busy PA job never really allowed for romantic relationships. Shaking your head you got on with your day, finishing your chores, eating some leftover Chinese food for dinner, and sinking deep into your bed.

------------

You were awoken by a knock on your door. Grunting as you got out of bed you swung open the door. The only person who would bother to come over without letting you know was Parker. Your suspicions were correct as she walked through the threshold and made herself at home, talking a mile a minute the entire time.

“Okay so first we need to talk about clothing options.” she said dumping her bag on your couch.

“Not prepping for the interview?” you said giving her a confused look.

Parker sighed.

“Look, I already know you have this interview in the bag. Sure, you may not like whiskey, but you are a wonderful person. While you may be stubborn” you frowned at her comment, “that can be super helpful in interviews. You are a go getting Y/N. I have no doubts about that.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Fashion show time!” she said, opening the small closet and rummaging around to find something suitable.

After an hour had passed the two of you finally settled on a suitable outfit. It was professional but still had a touch of you in it. A simple black skirt with a fun silky button down shirt that had a cool pattern on it. As you looked at yourself in the mirror you couldn’t deny that Parker knew what she was doing when it came to fashion.

“Okay finishing touch time.” she said as she unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt.

“Parker! This is a job interview, not a date.”

“Ugh. It’s a brewery, they’re gonna be more relaxed about these things. Plus you never know, this Jack Daniels could be a cutie.” she said, giving you a wink.

You chuckled and shook your head. Parker was eccentric but you really did love her. You still had a small bit of anxiety running through your body, but the help of your best friend made you feel more positive about Monday. Maybe you’d be able to stay in New York. Maybe this job might be better than the previous.

#jack daniels #agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #not a whiskey drinker #NAWD

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ramen-rambles · 4 years

Text

Quid Pro Quo

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

Warnings: 18+, mutual masturbation, suggestive texts

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: From being a total stranger you met on a dead Discord server, to literally becoming one of your best friends — Kirishima was one of the most amazing things to ever happen in your life. But what happens when you accidentally screenshot his nudes?!

A/N: My first BNHarem server collab! I was really close to naming this fic Penis Pals, if I’m being honest LOL It’s a lot shorter than I wanted but I hope I did my baby justice. Thank you to my fellow Bakugou Fanclub members for hyping me up and helping me edit this piece. I literally couldn’t have done it without you guys, ILYSM! Read all the other amazing fics in this collab, here.

Taglist: @lady-bakuhoe @bratwritings @redbeanteax

♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。.

Ever since you were in high school, you had always looked up to Crimson Riot — a pro hero who’s strong, manly, and fearless. I mean, who wouldn’t like him? Now that you were in college, there have been many other heroes worthy of being called the best, but Crimson Riot was still going to be Number 1 in your eyes. So, to pay homage to your all time favorite hero, you decided to join a Crimson Riot Discord server.

You had started looking for any server invites through all platforms of social media. Google, Twitter, Tumblr, but nothing came up. You had started to lose hope, until you stumbled upon a very old server link on an equally old Reddit thread. You looked at the date it was posted and it seemed to have been made all the way back when you were in high school. You clicked on the link hesitantly, definitely not expecting it to work. However, much to your surprise, the link brought you straight to the server!

“Finally! Something that actually fucking worked!” You thought to yourself, after hours of scrolling though numerous pages of the internet.

You were a bit hesitant at first, not really knowing what to expect. Were people going to think you were weird for being such a nerd? What if people thought you were annoying? Or worse, what if no one liked you?

But that didn’t seem to be much of a problem… Considering that the server was rather dead.

You clicked through the channels — #general, #merch, #photos, #announcements; the last time anyone really said anything was nearly six months ago. “God dammit.” You should have known. All you wanted was a place to fangirl over Crimson Riot, was that too much to ask for?! You got all your hopes up, just for it to all come crashing down. Feeling a bit dejected, it seemed like you had no choice but to leave the server. Not like there was much of a point in staying anyways.

But then you saw a notification pop up on your screen.

RED RIOT [Today at 7:56 PM]

@Y/N Hey! How are you doing? I’m the admin for this Crimson Riot Discord. The name’s Kirishima. It’s nice to see a fresh face here :^)

Y/N [Today at 7:56 PM]

Oh hi! I’m doing good! I found your discord link on a really old Reddit thread so forgive me for asking but… Is this server still active? I was scrolling through the channels and everything seemed kind of dead tbh LOL

RED RIOT [Today at 7:57 PM]

Well, if I’m being honest, it’s fucking dead LMAO

Y/N [Today at 7:57 PM]

RED RIOT [Today at 7:58 PM]

It used to be pretty active before but people just kind of... stopped. I made this server back when I was in high school because I just LOVED Crimson Riot so much, ya know? He was the one person I really looked up to. Anyways, how did you even find this link? You must have looked real hard LOL

Y/N [Today at 7:58 PM]

HAHA I did, actually! Took me for-fucking-ever to find a server link that actually worked :( I’ve looked up to him since I was a kid too and so I really just wanted a place to express my gratitude for the role he played in my life. Sorry LOL I’m getting cheesy

RED RIOT [Today at 7:59 PM]

Well Y/N, I’m glad you found this server! You sound like a really great person and I’d love nothing more than to talk to you about our shared love for Crimson Riot, but this server is whack as fuck. Are you down to move to DMs instead?

Y/N [Today at 8:01 PM]

Fuck it. Why not?

You and Kirishima had been talking for a while now. Ever since you came across his Crimson Riot server, you two would talk almost every single day. You learned that he actually lived near you too. Call it fate. Exchanging phone numbers, following each other on social media, starting Snapchat streaks, meeting up with each other — the chemistry between you two made it seem like you’ve known each other your entire lives. The both of you had practically become best friends.

To you, maybe it felt a little bit more than just friends.

Currently, you were mindlessly scrolling through your Twitter feed when you saw that you had received a Snapchat notification, from, you guessed it. Kirishima. You were expecting it to just be a bland streak of his room or something but you saw something that made your fucking jaw drop.

A picture of Kirishima in a tight fitting tank top and a very noticeable bulge that was covered by a pair of dark grey sweatpants.

You felt your cheeks heat up, a red blush painting across your entire face. In a state of panic, you fumbled the phone in your hands and in the process you had heard a very audible click. You fucking screenshotted his snap.

Fuck.

You quickly went into your messages and texted him to try and explain yourself.

[Y/N]

WAIT SHIT. KIRISHIMA. I DIDN’T MEAN TO SCREENSHOT THAT. IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. I SWEAR

Replying almost immediately, you anxiously waited for what Kirishima had to say about your little mishap. You were seriously hoping that he was just going to let it go and you could both just act like nothing happened.

[Kirishima]

Wow, I didn’t think you’d be the type to screenshot people’s snaps like that, Y/N :(

[Y/N]

YOU DIPSHIT. I SAID IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. AND WHY ARE YOU SENDING ME SHIT LIKE THAT HUH?!

[Kirishima]

You telling me you didn’t like what you saw?

[Y/N]

Okay, fine, you looked good, SUE ME. Is that what you wanted to hear?

[Kirishima]

It’s only fair you send me one back, don’t you think?

You stared at your phone. What the actual fuck. Was Kirishima asking you to send him a fucking nude? You knew it shouldn’t have, but the thought of Kirishima wanting to see your body turned you on. A small shiver running down your spine at the possibility that he liked you in return.

[Y/N]

Excuse me, sir. I am NOT sending you a nude.

[Kirishima]

I didn’t ask for a nude, all I said was that you return the favor. Quid pro quo, ya know?

[Y/N]

Using big words like ‘quid pro quo’, smh. Since when did you become such a politician?

[Kirishima]

But, if you want to send a nude, who am I to say no? ;)

[Y/N]

Fucking fine. If I show you one, will you shut up?

[Kirishima]

Depends.

[Y/N]

On what, exactly?

[Kirishima]

On how good it is

Your eyes narrowed at his response. What does he even mean by that, ‘how good it is’? He should be grateful that you even considered sending him one! Based on your replies, it seemed like you were pissed, but in reality, your heart beat faster with every passing minute. You were never the type of girl to send nudes to anyone, but for Kirishima, you were willing to make a small exception.

You got up from your bed and rummaged through your closet, looking for something that was a bit more provocative. You picked out a red lace bodysuit that hugged your curves and cupped your perky breasts. Sitting in front of your mirror, you touched up your makeup and fixed your hair, checking yourself out one last time before you started taking pictures. You opened up Snapchat and tried multiple poses, making sure the camera captured your sultriness and how good your tits looked. To mock his teasing from earlier you captioned the photo, “Quid pro quo, my ass.” before hitting the ‘send’ button.

[Y/N]

Was that good enough for you?

You heard no response from him for a good five minutes. You started worrying. “Shit. Was that too much? Did I push it too far?” You chewed on the inside of your lip, anxiously waiting for any sort of reaction.

And then, your screen lit up again. Another Snapchat notification from Kirishima. But this time, it was way more revealing. He had sent you a picture of him palming his erection, and all it said was, “You’re not even here, and look what you did to me :(“

Feeling cocky and with a sudden burst of confidence, you cheekily replied, “Why don’t you come here then?”

In all honesty, Kirishima didn’t live that far from you. You two were only 15 minutes away from each other, meaning that he frequented your apartment whenever he felt like it. He came over a million times in the past, but this time was different. Very different, in fact. Anticipation was building at the pit of your stomach, but so was a familiar heat that began pooling in the middle of your underwear.

You tried denying your feelings for Kirishima but you couldn’t help it! Everything about him was perfect. His personality, his humor, his voice, his face, his body… You could go on and on about all the things you loved about Kirishima.

You would have been lying to yourself if you said that you’ve never thought about him with your hands in between your thighs. Thinking about his massive cock fucking your tight pussy, his fingers rubbing your clit in all the right places, or the way his tongue would feel sucking on your hardened nipples.

You’d always wonder if he ever felt the same way but he didn’t really seem like he was.

That was, until tonight.

You stared at the clock on your wall and saw that 10 minutes had passed, a loud knock on your door making you wake up from the dream like trance you seemed to be trapped in. You quickly turned the doorknob, letting Kirishima inside of your apartment.

Without saying a word, he pushed your back against the wall and began to roughly grab the side of your face. He captured your lips with his, meeting his kiss with the same aggressiveness, making your head spin at how good it felt to finally get a taste of him.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for us to do this?” He panted, moving down to place sloppy kisses against the crook of your neck, leaving sharp bite marks and dark bruises littered all over your pretty skin.

“Haaaa, that should be my line” you moaned, “You know how many times I’ve touched myself to the thought of you?” You whispered teasingly, biting the soft flesh of his earlobes. “How many times I wished it was your fingers inside of me instead?” You trailed your fingers down to his, intertwining them with one another before you dragged him into your bedroom.

You pushed him down onto the mattress, gently getting on top of him and straddling his waist. Grabbing his hands, you placed them on top of your tits, giving them a rough squeeze before you began grinding your wet heat against his clothed cock.

”Fuck, Y/N, are you sure?” He groaned, “As much as I want this, I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with —“

“Eiji, shut up. If I didn’t want this, would I be this wet for you?” You slipped your panties off to the side, two of your fingers dipping into your cunt, showing off the slick that stringed in between your digits. “Here, see for yourself.” You brought your coated fingers up to his mouth, making him suck it until not a drop was left.

“Shit, you taste so fucking good,” He smirked, “Why don’t you show me how you touch yourself, princess?”

You slowly made your way off of him, leaning back to position your body against the plush sheets. Slowly spreading your legs, you made sure he got a good view, your pussy practically dripping from how aroused you had become. You snaked your hands down back against your thighs, fingers finding its way onto your throbbing clit. Kirishima was sitting in front of you, all of his clothes still on.

That didn’t seem very fair, now did it?

“Stroke your cock for me, Eijirou. Quid pro quo, right?” You said wickedly. You stood up quickly to remove the rest of your lingerie, Eijirou’s eyes glued to your body, watching your every move as you moved your hands back to their previous position.

Kirishima let out a small laugh before he finally stripped himself of his clothing, pulling down his boxers to reveal his impressive length that was already oozing precum. “Is this what you wanted to see?” You nodded desperately.

“You wanted to see me jerk off while I watch you touch that pretty pussy of yours?” Kirishima began moving his hand against his girth, gathering spit in his mouth before letting it drip onto the head. Lubricating his cock with a mix of precum and spit, he slowly started moving up and down his length. Matching your rhythm, as he watched intensely at the fingers that were still stuffed inside of your cunt.

Soft moans started escaping your plush lips, the collective sound of small whines, and frantic gasps beginning to fill the room. “Fuck, Eiji. You look so hot stroking your cock like that. Do you imagine that it was my pussy, instead?” You say, panting intensely.

“Fuuuuck. I’m gonna pound your tight little cunt so hard that you’re not going to be able to walk for days.” He sped up his pace, you quickly following suit. Your fingers pumping vigorously, you continued to rub tight circles over your sensitive clit.

You were getting closer and closer to the orgasm you craved so much, and the look that Kirishima had on his face indicated that he was too. Your cunt clenched tightly around your digits while Kirishima’s fist held a vice grip on his cock. You had been waiting for this moment for so long, the intensity of your orgasm was surely going to rip through you like a plundering tidal wave.

“A-ah, Eijirou! I’m so fucking close for you.” Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt yourself cum all over your fingers, your arousal gushing onto the bed sheets and covering the inside of your thighs.

Kirishima quickened his strokes, the sight of your pleasure the catalyst for his own release as he continued to jack hammer his cock at an animalistic pace. “Please, baby, cum for me, I wanna see you cum all over yourself.” You whined, watching closely as you patiently waited for him to reach his end. Your filthy words were the last push he needed.

“F-fuck Y/N! I love you so fucking much” he groaned loudly. A few more pumps, and ropes of his cum started painting his chest white, covering his sweaty body, as the remnants of both your orgasms stained the bed.

You both looked at each other with half lidded eyes, still trying to come down from your intense highs. Breathing heavily, you looked at him greedily and whispered, “You know, I’ve always wondered how good it would feel to fuck myself on your cock.”

“Well, I did say that I’d pound your cunt so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk for days...” Kirishima cooed as he ran his fingers along your exposed thigh,

“I’d be more than happy to show you, Princess.”

♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。.

#kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #bnha fanfiction #bnha #bnha kirishima

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ldouble · 3 years

Text

Helluva Party | Steve Rogers x Reader

summary: As a former employee of S.H.I.E.L.D (on the very front lines), you're somehow pulled into attending a notorious Tony Stark party. That’s where you meet Steve Rogers, officially, and the two of you weirdly click. Two people - trying to make a new life, who keep getting sucked into their old ways.

characters: steve rogers x reader

The elevator effortlessly glides up, but your stomach feels like you’re on the twistiest and turniest roller coaster. You have to put a hand to your torso, repeat the words you tell patients when they feel sick for no reason, remind yourself it’s nothing.

Therapy is one thing to talk someone down from. When you’re calming someone down, its because they’re about to do some major self discovery, scientifically aided, and healed if not completely cured.

They have no reason to worry.

And neither do you.

But Stark Tower is intimidating. Especially when it hosts everything you’ve been trying to forget.

You got a fresh start last year. S.H.I.E.L.D fell. Your work dried up. There was no where else you were needed. Enough had been accidentally cut on your watch with your knife throwing skills. So you did what you always wanted, before your deathly hobby turned into a career. You were now working as a psychiatrist. You got out of your own head to get into others.

Now, you were suddenly crawling back into the brains that you had almost become.

The stop of the elevator had you poised to hit the close door button, ready to make your way back down to the lobby to grab a cab home to your apartment. But your psychologist mind took over, the practice what you preach mentality overtaking, and your finger fell.

By the time the doors opened with a ding, your chin was up and head held somewhat high. It was the quickest reset you had ever performed. If only you had your notorious notebook to jot down how it had worked so well.

You had just remembered the old receipt in your clutch (dated with the last time you dressed up which was ages ago) that you could write on when someone yelled your name. At the sight of Natasha Romanoff, the idea of writing down your findings flew out the window.

“Nat!” You smile, accepting the Russian’s hug.

She reciprocates the action, asking more questions than you usually got out in an hour session with a routine client.

By the time you had make it to the bar you are filled in on all she had been up to, the details of the latest mission in retrieving of Loki’s scepter and all things Bruce.

Natasha gulps at you look once she finished retelling the doctor’s recent findings with the tesseract. She was already shaking her head at your silent implications when you placed a gentle hand over hers.

“As a doctor myself,” Natasha rolls her eyes at the mention of your new job. “No one talks that much about me unless they like me way more than a doctor.”

Natasha bites her lip, mumbling something about how you outfit was too nice to kick me. You laughed, a hearty laugh you hadn’t felt in ages. Upon seeing her recognize the newfound happiness you shooed her behind the bar in ask for a drink.

She waltzes away giving you just enough time to collect yourself once again. You hate to admit it (acceptance was always the hardest step of grief) but you missed her. You missed the days of fighting, working, living and saving.

It was harder to see the goals you met in your new line of work. It took years to build a client base, see your patients make progress, feel like you’re helping people when all you can do is listen.

It never felt good to kill someone. The sound of a blade whipping through the air was satisfying but nothing felt better than knowing there was less person doing the opposite of helping. Hurting. Hunting. Killing.

So why did you feel like you were doing something similar not being in the field?

You blink the thoughts away, turning to wave Nat down for something a little stronger than a beer when you saw her chatting it up with none other than Dr. Banner. You shake your head, your eyes moving back down the bar.

Your focus is caught by a brooding blonde. A literal God, named Thor. But its his neighbor that makes you freeze. Tony Stark never really had that effect on women (it was his money that enticed them not his looks) but the mere sight of him makes you gasp.

Your last conversation hadn’t been the most pleasant. You had refused a job at Stark Industries, believing you needed a clean break. He had pressed you to the point of pure anguish. The last thing you remember saying to him was something along the lines of, “You can’t ask me to stay to help you sort out whatever that is.” With a point at his head.

You quickly turn around, not wanting a repeat when he already had a glass of champagne in his hand. Sober Tony was obnoxious. Intoxicated Tony was a whole other level of big headedness.

You make your way through the party, ignoring the likes of anyone who looks remotely familiar. The few who had stayed loyal to the real S.H.I.E.L.D rather than turn in favor for HYDRA had come over, just like Tony asked you to. It was unclear who was worse to be trapped into a conversation with - someone who knew why you were no longer involved or those who didn’t.

You find your way up to a second floor hallway, one side looking out onto the party while the other faced the skyline. Uninterested in people watching (a reason that sounded much more mature than not wanting to be recognized) you face the large windows out onto the city.

You spin on your heel, your eyes traveling from the lights outside to inside when your eyes glaze over the very face of the Avengers.

But it isn’t Captain America’s face that caught your attention, rather the conversation his friend was spitting.

“Avenging is your world.” Sam Wilson, The Falcon, shakes his head into space, before turning to face the party just across the aisle. “Your world is crazy.”

It was your turn to shake your head, biting your lip in a weird resonation of his words. His next words, be it ever so humble, about the entire situation.

He was right. You know it, too. This world of fighting was hectic. Chaos. It really shouldn’t exist. But then you’d look out over some fancy party and it’s be easy to grasp. It wasn’t the alcohol or glamour, it was the aura that it had.

“You find a place in Brooklyn yet?”

The Super Soldier held back his own chuckle. “I don’t think I can afford a place in Brooklyn.”

It was hard to believe but easy to understand. It was an expensive burrow. Still, you found yourself laughing under your breathe.

Sam said something about home being home, which you also understood, but only between a laugh. Your breathy sound ends just as Tony’s favorite team member looked back at you.

The next thing out of your mouth was a gasp for air, followed quickly by a cough you tried to cover up. You face the window, trying your best to play it off. The sudden eye contact scares you. First it was the fear of being recognized. That outrageous thought was quickly thrown out.

The thing is, you hadn’t exactly...met him. It felt wrong to even think of him as Steve Rogers when you’d never been introduced. Anytime Nat mentioned him you couldn’t believe the first name basis they had. You weren’t starstruck - not by a lot. You’d spent time in labs with Iron Man and the Hulk. You grabbed coffee with Black Widow. Thor had given you a freaking birthday gift.

No super soldier named Captain America scared you.

Except the one sidling up next to you now.

“Hi, there.” He says, bending down to grab your attention.

And right then, after feeling immense anxiety and worry of coming face to face with anyone who worked for the thing you had left behind, you felt perfectly comfortable in front of their very leader.

You’d been listening to Tony too much, through Nat. Captain America was the elected leader. Tony just made everybody look good.

“Hi.” You say, bringing yourself out of your head.

His blue sparkled, a lopsided smile reaching his lips as his hand reaches out to you. “Have we met?”

“Almost.” You say automatically, the word being more of a thought you wanted to keep than share. You shake your head, correcting yourself. “No.”

“Steve.” He says after learning your name. You can tell the way he locks it away, his eyes slightly closed as if grabbing the word from your mouth and putting it in storage. “I’m sorry, were you almost put in ice too or did you see me through a subway door closing?”

You can’t help the smile on your face, his humor and charm exactly what you expected. “No.” A hand find your hair and you watches the way his eye tracked the small scar on your finger. It was from when you were five. You cut yourself with a knife, a knife you weren’t supposed to be holding. From that point on your swore you’d never hold a knife again if you didn’t know how to use it. You thought that meant culinary school. Not becoming a dagger throwing agent.

Your other hand traces the mark, that runs from the tip of your left pointer finger to the center of your knuckles.

“I used to be in a similar business.”

You watch Steve accept the answer, silently deciphering your words. To relieve him you continued, now having a better thought to go off of. “I save people. From themselves.”

“I’m a psychiatrist.” You conclude, wanting to put him out of his misery. You crack a smile, earning one from him. He bobs his head, looking out into the city, thinking. You could tell, again, facial cues. You did a lot of listening and watching now. A few years ago you would’ve thrown a blade to trap his shirt against a wall while another went to his throat to demand a response.

You sort of like watching him form his words.

A question, expertly designed, was on the tip of his tongue when a booming voice yells his name. Thor waved from below enthusiastically. You quickly turn, not wanting to start a conversation with the God of Thunder. He always seemed to get you into existential conversation. In the old English, and it being so late, you couldn’t handle it.

“Don’t leave him waiting or else he’ll send Mjollnir up here.” You say, already backing away.

Steve looks up at you, a playful smile hinted at his lips. But it didn’t reach the surface, curiosity and confusion at your sudden departure the priority.

You want to stay. But the thought of explaining...of answering...even the oh so amazing Captain America, has you wanting to run back to the elevator.

The only reason you exit the conversation rather than the entire building...is the slight beat of your heart and reddening of your cheeks at the idea of talking with him again. Unlike Thor, you could even get into all the existential stuff with him.

Exactly what the super soldier would deem too out of the box is on your mind when you run into the one person you don’t want to see. The host himself.

Tony takes you under his wing, literally, walking you around the party. Surprisingly enough, not once does he convince you to come back to work. He asks questions and wants to know all about you.

You oblige, enlightening him with tiny details. Your lack of confidence in the authenticity isn’t from lack of trust, but because you spend more time inquiring about him. Wordlessly, that is your psych perception takes over as you study him. You conclusion: he’s only asking about lowly you because he’s sitting high and dry. Which isn’t a new thing for Tony Stark, tech mogul and THE Iron Man. But something tells you his latest win isn’t one just shared with the public yet. Too good to be true, even to the optimist that is Tony.

He leaves you, letting you walk around for the rest of the party. Hours pass, partygoers dwindling both from the penthouse and your data set to people watch. Numbers low on who to analyze, you turn around in a circle, sure you couldn’t have taken in every person in attendance. A full 180 and you come face to face with the man with a target on your back.

He makes sure of your hunch, that he’s had it out for you, with the sly comment, “You ditch a Brooklyn boy for some Staten Islander?”

You look over your shoulder, playing along. “I was actually waiting for this guy from Manhattan to fetch me a drink.” You look back at him, his head titled in focus. You stumble for a moment, not used to the attention being on you. To the floor you say, “I don’t think city guys are good at service.”

“it’s a damn good thing you’re with a soldier.” He smiles, offering his arm as he steps beside you.

You hesitate, your knowledge on attraction and how one simple touch can lead to a million mistakes and miscommunications. You let your head take over your heart this time, walking ahead of him. “Last I checked, Captains don’t fetch anything for someone else.”

Accepting the (slight) rejection, Steve joins into step with you, his hands stuffing into his pockets. “You make me sound like Stark.”

“We all sound a little like him after too much time together.” You shrug. Catching Steve’s curious eye, clearly wondering how and when you worked with Tony, you saddle up behind the bar to distract yourself. “It’s called mirroring behavior. Say, I grab a beer you have a higher chance of doing the same just because of me.”

Steve smiles at you over the counter, watching as you open the bottle and take a swig. “But what if I just like beer?”

You roll your eyes, bringing the cider to your lips. “Or so you say.”

“You’re good at your job. Tony help you with that?”

You nearly choke on your drink. Why? It’s a toss up for the unexpected question or the tone of jealousy you think you detect in his voice. Upon looking at him you can’t see if your suspicion is correct. He’s casual, leaning an elbow on the table and gazing around the room without a care.

When his eyes find yours again you can’t help but trust him. You deem it the authority he has within his role, rather than something like the way he looks at you or how cute he is, before answering. “He wishes my career took me here. But after the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D,” It’s Steve’s turn to look at you to ensure trust, your words an unspoken truth among so many secret keepers. “I found my way into a new line of work.”

You turn to your left, finding a spec on the marble to transfix on. When he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even chastise you for so openly talking about the failure of his former employer, you look up at him. Only for your eyes to track his, to none other than your hand.

You hadn’t even realized you were still holding the can opener. it was a wine/bottle mix and you had the corkscrew raised and the entire contraption being spun in your hand like....like a knife.

Mirroring. In a room of superheroes and fighters, you resort back to your own ways. You remind yourself this is exactly why you weren’t supposed to come when Steve speaks.

“Reading people?” He asks, genuine interest in his voice. You see his eyes barely flit back to your hand, forcing you to set the church key down, but ignore it, just like he is choosing to do. You nod. “Can you read them?”

You follow his finger, stifling a laugh when it lands on Nat and Bruce, clearly flirting just down the bar.

“Reading, not pointing.” You reprimand with sarcasm, quickly covering his hand. Heat travels up your elbow, your hand flying back to the cold corkscrew for comfort as you clear your throat. Steve’s eyes wanders away and for a second you think he felt it too when you shake your head. There are patients. No time to dilly dally.

After a moment you say,“From a psychiatric point of view, I’d say the male is exerting immense amount of dopamine, just getting by the stressors and paraysmpathic nervous system. Whereas the female’s self esteem is battling her body’s immediate release of cortisol.”

Steve looks up at you, his mouth hung open. As dryly as you can, you say, “He likes her and she likes him.”

It sparks a laugh from both of you, a long one that doesn’t end till he puts his hand over yours in an effort to stop. You let it rest, liking the feeling of the cold marble and his warm hand more than any old corkscrew.

“So how you going to diagnose them?” He asks, clearing his throat and suddenly removing his hand.

You tilt your head toward the pair - an assassin and a man who can’t control his killing - and take a second to think. That second is when Nat decides to leave, gliding past you effortlessly. As she walks by you say to Steve, more so to yourself, “It’s hard for people to hear the truth.”

Steve is looking over to Bruce when you tip your head back to him. You can see the question on the tip of his tongue and you want to stop him but he’s too quick.

Don’t play cupid, is the second most common thing you say to clients. Right after the ‘truth is hard to hear’ piece.

You can’t help but put your head in your hands when he outrightly says Bruce and Romanoff “is nice”. It’s a psychologists worst nightmare. Not the one you thought you’d see play out but it’s happening, so you can’t help but listen.

It’s the way Bruce stumbles in reply that sends you walking down the bar. You throw Steve nothing but a “watch yourself’ look before listening from your new spot.

You clink your nearly empty beer bottle on the counter when Bruce comes up with an excuse. It does more than you plan it too, as it grabs Steve’s attention and has him going for another one and making his way over to you. You can’t help but notice the way he smiles sincerely at his friend when announcing himself a leading authority in waiting too long. The statement makes you pause, but not long enough to miss Bruce asking about exactly how close Steve was to Nat’s flirting..

“Pointing works.” He says when he arrives in front of you, the unopened bottle extended (if not pointed) directly at you.

You accept, clinking off the cap with the opener still in your hand. “Yeah, yeah.”

He watches you take a sip, his eyes once again telling more than he thinks they do.

Your hand, once again holding the opener in the knife-life way is his next question. For once, you want to keep the conversation about work.

“My job is to listen. What you just did was talk.”

Steve mulls it over, taking the beer form your hand and tipping it back. He holds it out you, in offering. “OK. You talk. I’ll listen.”

You bite your lip. Knowing this could be bad. There’s a reason you listen. Talking...it’s like any pointy object for you. Someone always ends up stabbed.

Then again, how seriously injured could Captain America get? You already have one scar. A “Star Spangled Man with a Plan” shaped wound could be your next story.

A new blemish never arises. You don’t even feel so much as a pinch of pain. Talking to Steve, for hours, makes you feel about as painless as you been ever since you left the line of work.

Then again, your old career never makes an appearance in conversation. He did ask about your current career so that’s what you talk about. Psychology. Which leads to music. TV. His favorite food and how its Apple Pie. He doesn’t listen when you insist Pumpkin is better.

Your love of Chinese food is perfectly timed to the late night order, scoring you a seat and a plate at the after-party, so to speak.

That’s where you find yourself, on the couch with a small cluster of people. Most of which are the ones you had planned to ignore. Rhodey, Tony, Clint, Maria Hill, and Nat don’t as much as eye you suspiciously, thankfully. Besides, you mostly people watch, only talking when Steve wants some insight on whether or not Thor is really spiking his drink or giving him something watered down.

You share a look with Thor, encouraging the addition of it into Steve’s next beer, when Clint questions the God’s almighty hammer. You laugh when Clint looks at the thing bewildered at his inability in to lift it.

Steve joins you in softened laughter at Stark’s attempts. His head finds your shoulder when Rhodey and him quarrel about representing in their effort to pull the hammer off the table. But he refuses to make so much as a peep when Banner tries to “Hulk” it up, saying he doesn’t want to hurt the guy’s chances with Nat.

Before you can tell him Bruce could do no wrong in the red head’s eyes, it’s Steve’s turn. The way he rolls up his sleeves, making it clear he’s taking it seriously, has you silent. You can tell a lot by a person in the way they go about a challenge. it doesn’t surprise you at all, despite the short time you two have talked, that Steve goes for it.

It’s no shock at all that your attention switches to Thor. The look of panic, which you’re sure only you are watching, astounds you. Never once had the God been this nervous. But here he was, holding his tongue as Steve nudged the alien club up.

Steve comes back to you in defeat. You offer him a supportive pat on the back, having his eyes for all but a moment until everyone’s eyes land on you. Recognizing Nat just turned down the offer you shake your head. “Lift with your brain, not your weak bones.”

Steve gives you an impressed look, opening his mouth to call you out when Hill remarks the use of bad language.

“I had a feeling you’d be a stickler for that.” You theorize aloud.

Steve looks at you over his shoulder, raising a brow. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” You reiterate.

Thor proves you all wrong, effortlessly lifting his weapon of choice, declaring no one worthy.

The group laughter is cheerful and it warms your heart. Something about comfort between all of these people who live so dangerously, intrigues you. Your mouth opens to ask Steve how he’s come to trust them when a high pitched noise floods the space and has you covering your ears.

Your breath catches at the sight of a botched bot, standing in the shadows. Its robotic voice, oddly human, has you biting on your lip. It’s been a while since you’ve been faced with anything worse than a crying client.

Something tells you this won’t end in tissues and a hug.

Steve, who stood upon the unaccounted for noise, says Tony’s name with more frustration that you could ever imagine coming out of the man. You look up to him in surprise, only to look back at the way his hand is flexed in front of you. It’s a poor job at guarding you but something tells you that if he had his shield within reach he’d have grabbed it already.

The bot piques yours interest, his mumbled statements about his own sleep like unscnoius state making you nervous. The way he’s so...real...takes forefront over Tony’s own whispering. But even without your focus directly on him, something tells you he’s unsure. It’s never a good sign when the host is surpised.

You slowly stand as the intruder fumbles with himself. You’re studying him so discreetly you actually wave away Steve’s warning hand.

“You killed someone?”

“No he didn’t.” You murmur, only loud enough for Steve to hear. He gazes back at you for a moment and you shake your head, confirming your suspicion. The...thing in front of you is no real killer. Not yet.

When Tony’s voice rings out from the bot the tension rises in the room. You couldn’t cut it with a knife it’s so thick...which takes a lot for someone with the throwing capabilities of yourself.

You don’t mind it, knowing the pressing threat stands in front of you rather than beside. The wise words erupting from the in flesh Ultron has you racking your brain...about nothing less than the brain in front of you. Computers have never outsmarted you. Then again, it’s been a while since you’ve been around Tony.

His building - in tone and message- signals something much more violent is about to begin. No sane person builds a mountain of words not to stand on it later. Maria Hill cocks her gun as you take in your surroundings. You believe a chopstick to be your best option for a weapon, at least one you can throw, when the crash of walls begins the battle you were really hoping not to get into tonight.

It’s like Steve senses your lack of protection, taking it upon himself to upchuck the table for cover. Instinctively, you crowd down in front of the couch, just missing the hit that Steve takes with the attempted cover.

A big part of you wants to make sure he’s OK, scream his name and chase after him, but it’s not the time. People come to you to recover with your help. Steve isn’t one of those people.

So, you go into survival mode.

You army crawl across the room, watching every disappear from the main level. They’re smart enough to find cover and/or a weapon. You, out of practice and way out shape, head across the room...you know, to the empty space ensuring no safety.

Catching sight of Nat, now armed, you duck down knowing there has to be a gun stashed somewhere. It’s not your first weapon of choice, having never trusted a bullet as much as a blade but something is better than nothing.

And nothing is what you find.

You graze every table you can, certain it hasn’t been long enough for you to forget what a gun feels like, when spot Nat and Bruce flying up the stairs.

Sure Nat has already pleaded with the doctor not to turn green you avert your eyes to Stark, flailing on the back of a bot with what appears to be a fondue fork. You’d kill for a fondue fork right now.

What catches your eye instead is something much less picking. It’s perfect timing too as you spot Dr. Cho crowding behind the piano, face to face with a waist up robot, hand glimmering and all.

In a split second your hand grasps around the candlestick and you toss it through the air. Despite the noise you hear its whistle and while it’s really not the time, you relish the sound that you missed so much.

It hits the neck, chopping off its head just as Steve clambers on top of it, chucking git to Thor to smash, to ensure it’s no chicken working with its head cut off.

A shield wizzes past your head, slicing another member of Ultron’s army seconds later.

Its lonely leader speaks next, chilling the charged air.

Before you know it you’re flinging the other candlestick (it is a set) at Ultron, stabbing his arm. It earns the tines looks of him before a dry chuckle. You don’t take your eyes off of him despite the stare you know you’re getting.

His next words are directed at you. “You just didn’t think it through.” His knowledge of what feels like the entire world makes you believe that while his idenity is still a mystery, yours is not to him.

Your presumption is all but proved when his crumbled form sings the infamous Pinocchio song. Not once was it sung at the party. Everything his at his finger tips. Yourself included.

The blue of his eyes fade but he surely doesn’t leave the room. Tony sighs, clutching himself on the stairs. Thor breathes heavily hwile Nat looks worridely at Bruce, who appears on the edge of vomitting up all the food he didn’t eat a the party. Cho looks terrfiied. Hill and Rhodey on the lower level.

That leaves Steve. Watching you.

In four steps he’s at your side, his hands on your arms as he checks you out. Not like that. You remind, tell, yourself its not like that as you meet his eyes.

“Im’ fine.”

"That’s not what I was going to say.”

“Guess you’re better at reading people then.” Humor has always been your go-to. There’s not anything much heavier than blood and blades. The least you could do is quip something light.

Steve steps forward, his voice dropping just for you to hear. “I was going to say you’re a damn good throw.”

The End

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america fanfic #marvel #age of ultron #tony stark #natasha romanoff #thor #bruce banner #x reader

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miscellaneous-bnha · 3 years

Text

A little Drabble about Shadow Demons Denki, Shinsou, Sero, Kirishima, and Bakugou with Reader (poly)

———————————————————————

You don’t know how long they’d been there, but you certainly remembered the night you discovered them.

Like hushed whispers, numerous voices bounced around your dark room, breathy and light despite being so charged.

It was just quiet enough where you couldn’t hope to understand what they were saying, not that your 3am fight or flight response is to listen in on hushed conversations in your room...

Especially when you live alone.

You snuck your phone out and pulled up the camera, pointing it in the direction you thought you heard the voices coming from and clicked the button. The flash lights up the room, but you sigh in relief when you don’t see anyone.

‘it’s all in my head’ you tell yourself, moving to delete the picture.

Only to realize there were several pairs of eyes staring back at you from the shadows.

You screamed.

——————————

You refused to stay alone in the house after that, daylight or no. Put out several ads for roommates, but getting absolutely no luck.

There was only so many nights you could spend at a cheap motel.

And as terrified as you were, you missed your bed.... and sheets that didn’t smell like wet mothballs.

So you finally went back home. The air was charged with some sort of tense energy, but you chalked it up to your own nerves.

‘There’s no one here,’ you think, but your brain seems to tell you otherwise; ‘you’re in denial,’ it whispers, ‘you know what you saw.

But you were tired of stiff sheets and soggy, partially frozen waffles; you would sleep in your own bed or die trying.

You start to finally slip under when you hear your name whispered in the dark. You bolt upright, startled, followed my a meek yelp of, “fuck off!”

Then suddenly a sense of overwhelming calm. Your eyes droop some and you take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. You almost forget about the voice that called your name.

“Wh... wha...?” You slur,

“Shhh... relax... we aren’t here to hurt you.” The disembodied voice soothes, echoing around in your own head, “we’d never hurt you.”

“Who... are you...?”

“Don’t worry about that now... sleep.”

So you do. You dream about the voice, the voices. It soothes you, somehow

You wake up in a slight haze. There’s a storm outside; the power’s been out for who knows how long. The only light comes from the occasional lighting strike. You note that you don’t hear any thunder following.

You feel a cold hand over your forehead, but no body to match.

“Who are you?” You whisper, almost afraid to startle whoever they are.

“There are... several of us.”

“Then tell me.”

You learn their names; Hitoshi, Hanta, Denki, Eijirou, Katsuki.

The one who’d put you to sleep the night before was Hitoshi, and the one who woke you was Hanta.

You nod, eyes slipping shut again.

——————————

Over the next few months, you started to learn about them.

Hitoshi was particularly skilled in light hypnotism. More often than not (and with your explicit permission), he’ll help unwind you from a hard day. Voice soothing and melodic as he gets you to let go of the negativity that plagues you until you’re able to process them on your own.

“You’re okay, kitten. Just let go.”

Denki had the tendency to mess with the electronics in your house. Though not always on purpose, he’s fried a couple of kitchen appliances and a small radio that came with the place. You’re not too bothered, especially since you can hear the way he beats himself up over it.

“It’s ok, Denks. I know you didn’t mean it.”

Katsuki loved messing with your candles and the fireplace. Any time you had an open flame lit, he was certain to be near by, causing it to spark and crack. Sometimes you could see it spin into different colors, betraying what he says by showing you what he really means.

“Suki, I know you’re embarrassed.”

“Shut up, shitty woman! You can’t see me!!”

Eijirou liked toying with some of the things around your house, especially any comics you might have. Though he struggled with anything more than just turning a page, so you started to leave different ones laid around the house for him to pick and choose. He was always careful to make sure he didn’t accidentally tear the pages on accident.

“I see you really like this series. Do you want me to leave it out more?”

“Yes please!”

Hanta was the most capable out of all of them.

He was able to touch you with more that enough force to lift you, which baffled you at times.

You’d wondered why that was and asked the others about it, but they seemed to know about as much as you do. He implied to know the reason, but refused to share, even after you had begged.

Even so, it confused you, but you knew he would never be affected by blackmail.

A few months after you had grown fairly close with them, they started to show themselves to you; small features like their eyes, shape. Sometimes you’d see Eiji’s sharp-toothed smile glinting in the moon light when you would talk about your shared interest in comics and manga.

Katsuki’s spiked hair certainly threw you into fits of laughter, often calling him a Pomeranian. He always sounded angrier than he really was, making you laugh even harder. “Just like a Pomeranian!”

Though Hitoshi’s fluffy hair certainly wasn’t much different, you definitely couldn’t say he resembled much of a Pomeranian. More like... a Maine Coon. If you squint. Maybe. Possibly.

You noticed a little black lightning bolt in Denki’s otherwise blond hair. “It suits you” you said, smiling affectionately. You’d never seen an entity look so shy before, even in the movies.

Hanta had appeared so strikingly clear to you that it was hard to pick out any sort of feature that really stood out against the smoke-like transparency the others had.

His striking smile, his lanky form. The undercut/mullet (perhaps an undercut that got too long?).

Lanky, but certainly not weak.

Then, one night, the dreams started happening. Short bursts of nightmares before you were shaken awake by several touches and voices coaxing you out of your nightmare. Hitoshi often helped guide you back into a more peaceful slumber, making it hard to remember your terror the next morning.

But soon enough, it started to get harder and harder to pull you out until you were remembering full chunks of terror.

Eventually, you realized it wasn’t just nightmares, but rather memories. Things long since forgotten... or suppressed

After a particularly grueling night, you decided to confront Hanta, which led to a long and emotional talk.

He told you about how he’d known you when you were younger, more vulnerable to “his kind”. Shadow beings, he said. People who— quite literally— live in the shadows of living beings. A symbiotic relationship between creature and host. Most of the time.

Hanta had attached himself to your shadow when you were both very young. You hadn’t been afraid of him; quite the opposite rather. Hanta despised having been born a shadow being; felt it was unfair that he couldn’t walk hand in hand with you like others around you could.

But he never worried, especially when you always came back to him at night, telling him in hushed whispers about your day.

The real problem occurred when you’d met another kid your age with a shadow being less.... benevolent than Hanta. One who was out to maim and hurt.

You would have died if Hanta hadn’t been there, though it was agony, having been sealed away for at least a decade, watching through a glass as you grew up without a single memory of him.

Unfortunately, the spell you’d been put under didn’t quite work the way the priest had expected:

You became a magnet for wandering shadows, especially those who felt lost, leading Hitoshi, Denki, Katsuki, and Eiji to you, inadvertently sucking them into the bind that sealed away Hanta.

“But now you remember, mi amor, and that’s all that matters.”

You start to realize that having these boys were the best thing to happen to you, seeing as you’ve started to take better care of yourself now. Sometimes you find yourself smiling wryly when you start to think about how they start to become clearer and clearer to you (and you alone) in the daylight as much as they are in the dark.

It’s nice, you decide.

#crow rambles #crow drabbles #posted upon request #the person I did this for knows who they are

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mintchanniemint · 4 years

Text

pairing: [still friends] bassist!chan x (fem)reader wordcount: ~3.3k taglist: @100797-bc - @chansrms

[08:45 a.m]

"...So, since everyone seems ready and excited for this new project that involves more departments of our university, I think it's time to start! Be careful, everyone! And make sure to share all your thoughts with each other!"

A wave of "yes, Prof." slowly lit up in the huge auditorium as every student sounded both tired and bored. You had to admit you strangely didn't really hate this project, you probably had to do worse things, like that time you ended up doing a cooking project and nearly poisoned that girl from the History Department. Whenever you reminded yourself of that little incident, you always made sure not to see her, not even accidentally in the college restrooms. But this time, the project not only sounded a bit safer, but you even ended up in a group with a certain someone. And that was the only reason why that morning you didn't fall asleep while the professor was giving you the guidelines and instructions for your tasks. The project was related to the school systems around the world, and how they differed from each other, analysed under specific views. You were assigned a not-really-exciting topic, which was School Uniforms. Now, you had to admit you felt quite lucky the university you were attending didn't force its students to have a uniform to wear, but just the thought of having to learn how to tie a tie made you fall asleep on the spot.

"Hey."

Your train of thoughts got brutally interrupted by a way too familiar voice as you finally looked around, a bit confused, noticing that the hall was nearly empty. You looked in the direction of the voice that got your attention, to see a way too sleep deprived Bang Chan in front of you. You couldn't help but giggle a bit, he sat down on the seat right in front of yours, crossing his arms on the chair and plopping his chin on them. He looked at you for a couple of seconds, in silence, before slowly closing his eyes.

"You really look like a cat, sometimes." You whispered with a smile, your hand automatically reaching his soft curls, playing with a brown strand of hair with two fingers.

Wait… brown?

"Chan, when did you dye your hair?" The alarm in your voice nearly made you sound a bit too concerned and he quickly looked at you, his eyes half open.

"A couple of kids told me that I had to have a nice hair color for the project-" He then closed his eyes again, his head pushing a bit against your hand, as if asking you to keep playing with his hair.

"They were so serious about it, but my red hair dye is not so cheap to be covered by some brown color so I just used some hair color spray."

You looked at him, biting your lip trying your best not to burst out laughing.

"Yes, that's such a Chan thing for you to do…" You mumbled to yourself, your voice clearly highlighting a smile on your lips. He hummed in response, probably asking you what you meant by that. You shook your head and stood up, getting your bag from the seat next to yours.

"C'mon, bass boy, we need to go and try the uniforms!" You said, trying to sound as exciting as possible, hoping to somehow give some life to that sleepyhead in front of you.

"There's a reason why I always skip morning lectures." He mumbled, yawning and keeping his back on his shoulder. He followed you as you walked through the hallways of your department, not too familiar to him.

"They said this is the class, right?"

"Were you listening while that professor was assigning the classrooms to each group?"

"Nah… not really."

"Me neither."

The both of you just looked at each other for a couple of seconds, as if mentally screaming and asking what to do if you got the wrong class. Luckily enough, though, the door before you suddenly opened, revealing a black haired guy wearing round glasses, and a taller girl right behind him. They both looked at you, then the girl checked a pile of papers in her hands, nodding, and suddenly they smiled at you.

"Welcome! We were waiting for you!" The guy exclaimed, taking a couple of steps back and letting you and Chan enter the classroom. It was empty, some desks were occupied by big boxes with black, confusing scribblings scribblings on them.

"Those are the uniforms we are going to try, hopefully the sizes are gonna be fine! We thank you for submitting your essays and researching about school uniforms from various countries. Even though yours…" The guy mumbled, checking some of the papers the girl gave him, as he looked at Chan. "... was submitted two minutes before the deadline. But we appreciate the effort! You also followed our little advice about your hair! " The girl interrupted her friend, trying not to make him say anything way too harsh. She smiled at Chan, getting his usual cold stare in response, which left her a bit confused.

"Uh… yeah he really cares about this stuff, guys! Chan is just… not really good at expressing himself with words, yeah!" You swiftly entered the little conversation too, probably making it worse since as a consequence you only got an embarrassing silence and four pairs of eyes looking at you.

"Can we please see the uniforms now?" You quickly whispered, nearly tripping over your own words as you felt your own mind screaming for five whole seconds.

"Sure! Some students have already tried the uniforms they mentioned in their own essays and they're getting ready to take photos! We're really ambitious for this project!"

"And we're sure that the magazine of this project will turn out amazing with our photos! Seungmin is gonna make you shine like models."

They looked like those cartoon characters that completed each other's sentences, you couldn't help but find them a bit funny, though. Seeing them being so enthusiastic about this project made you feel a bit guilty too, since ten minutes earlier you were literally planning an escape with your fake-brown haired friend in case you didn’t get the right classroom.

You smiled at the two students in front of you and grabbed Chan by his arm, guiding him to a box on which you recognized your names were scribbled on with a black marker. Other students, definitely more responsible than you and Chan fused together, told you about the stuff you had to do. It was quite simple: go to the improvised changing rooms, wear the uniform, take pictures. Write about your general thoughts and impressions of the project at the end of the day. You just hoped Chan grasped all that, as he looked like he probably would have fallen asleep in the changing room. It didn't matter that much, you would have definitely helped him anyway.

You two were given three uniforms, and since there would have been lunch break in a couple of hours, the students of your group were asked to wear one of those uniforms. You didn't really understand why, but thinking about how other students had probably ended up in groups where they were supposed to cook, you felt quite lucky and didn't want to complain at all.

Chan was given his first uniform to try, and he walked to the changing rooms to try it on quickly. The photographer was taking quite some time taking those photos, and you didn't have to try the uniforms yet, since many other students were already waiting in line for the shoot. You just stood there, leaning on the wall, waiting for the moment Chan would have finally left that improvised changing room. Suddenly, the black curtain moved and a not so amused Chan made his amazing appearance: he was wearing black trousers and a white shirt, a tie on his right hand. He looked at you as he walked closer to you, and left the green and red tie on your hand.

"I don't know how to do this." He mumbled, as he finished buttoning his shirt up. You looked at the piece of cloth in your hands and took a deep breath.

"I don't know either but… Let's try, I guess?" You mumbled in response as you brought the tie around his neck, trying your best to seem like you knew what you were doing. Because of the little task you were asked to do, you had to get closer to Chan. You could feel his calm, relaxed breath gently hitting your face as your eyes were completely focused on that tie. Suddenly you felt his hand resting on your waist when you finally figured out how to make that tie look presentable for the shoot. You felt quite proud of the result and, not minding too much about Chan's hand on your waist, you dragged him to the photoshoot corner.

A cherry-red haired guy was there, a black bag right next to him, by his feet, as he was giving instructions about posing to a girl right in front of him. He then got his camera and, making sure everything was perfect, a loud "click" was heard.

"Let's take a couple more. So we can, eventually, choose the best one!" He smiled, getting a thumbs up by the girl who was temporarily his model. Seungmin, hoping you got his name right, seemed quite professional, and it took you literally seconds to guess he was from the Arts Department. You felt quite out of place for a good minute, everyone around you seemed like they were genuinely interested in that project and then there was you, who didn't stay home just because that grumpy, quiet cat-owner sent that essay last minute and automatically made you want to go just to spend the day with him.

Wow, that's embarrassing… And quite lame.

You shook your head, trying to let that thought drift off, when you suddenly heard someone call your name, announcing that you were able to try some of the uniforms you were assigned. You had to leave Chan's side, and you had to admit it felt way warmer when you had his arm around your waist.

"It's my turn! Gotta go."

"Make sure to button up the shirt properly."

"Oh shut up." You stuck your tongue out at him and you walked away, not before getting a gentle, quick squeeze on your waist by Chan, though.

Okay, let's be honest. Both of us are embarrassing and lame…

You mentally rolled your eyes at your own thoughts and quickly walked across the room to get your uniform, and headed towards the changing room. You didn't have any problems trying the clothes on, the trousers felt quite comfortable and you also liked how pretty the colors were. You looked at your reflection on the mirror, which was probably lent by the drama club, and quietly wondered which country's school that was supposed to be. You didn't really remember, even though you were literally the one who wrote about it in that essay, but you just shrugged it off and left the changing room, your eyes quickly landing on the little photoshoot corner.

It was Chan's turn, and that girl wasn't lying at all when she said that Seungmin was going to make everyone feel like a model. You nearly got caught staring at him and quickly walked closer to the queue of people standing, waiting for their turn to take photos. Seungmin seemed not to let your friend go, he probably found a good subject to photograph. He took photos of him in at least four different poses when he usually asks for two poses per student.

Chan left the spot with a small nod and walked away, leaving a satisfied Seungmin checking all the photos taken with his camera. Your friend quickly found you and walked closer to you, his eyes scanning the uniform you were wearing.

"Looks nice." He mumbled, one hand in the pocket of his trousers, the other one reaching a strand of hair that escaped from your ponytail.

"Oh well, thank you school president." You teased him with a smirk, before distractedly playing with his tie.

As it was finally your turn to take the photos, you couldn't help but feel Chan's gaze constantly on you. Seungmin made you feel at ease in a matter of seconds and you had to admit the shots were really pretty. He clearly was working so hard to make everyone shine in those uniforms. You thanked him with a smile and, followed by Chan, walked closer to those boxes containing other school uniforms. You had to try three other pieces before the big clock on the wall finally signed that it was lunch break. You were relieved half of the day had finally passed, but then you remembered you had to stay in that uniform you had just put on for the following two hours.

"The last time I wore a uniform for school was ages ago!"

"Wouldn't it be ten minutes ago?"

"Chan, c’mon." You sighed, exasperated, as you got your lunchbox from your bag and walked to the cafeteria with your friend. You noticed the uniform he was wearing only when the two of you sat down at a table and looked at each other for a fraction of seconds.

He was wearing a black turtleneck and a white shirt on it, his trousers were dark and looked more comfortable than the ones he had to wear for the second shoot.

"What."

Uh oh… caught staring…

"Oh, nothing! It's just… well, at least you don't have to wear a tie, hm?" You cleared your throat and looked around, your mind in complete alarm mode.

What an idiot.

Chan, in response, nodded and opened his lunchbox. Meaning that his whole interest was now on the food in front of him. You sighed in relief, you both loved and hated how naive that guy was. Definitely a double-edged sword. You shook your head at those thoughts and quickly opened your lunchbox, enjoying your meal and Chan's company for lunch.

"You know…" You said, between some bites. "Don't we look like high school students?" Your lips quickly curved into a silly smirk.

Chan looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed. "Isn't that part of the project-"

"No, Chan, I mean! Doesn't… this! Make you wonder what high school life would have been like if we were, you know, classmates-”

"Not really."

"Absolutely no fun." You pouted, your little rainbow-colored dream was completely destroyed before it could have even reached its completion because of Chan's straightforwardness.

The two of you chatted a bit after finishing your lunch and, since you had quite some time before returning to your team's classroom, you decided to go for a walk in the huge hallways of the university. You didn't feel as uncomfortable as you thought you would a few hours earlier; the uniform you were wearing was quite nice and warm too, and you were glad Chan had brought a scarf that morning, since you forgot yours at home because you were in a hurry. Even though he probably didn't even agree on that, you were wearing his scarf as you were walking down the hallways. Many students greeted you and way too many people were literally staring at Chan. You raised your eyebrows at the guy next to you, wondering exactly what they were so fascinated about.

Just wait till he opens your mouth, everyone.

You lightly giggled at your own thought, finding your mind funnier than usual when suddenly you walked past a group of students that stopped you. Specifically, that stopped Chan. You were a few steps back, looking at them quietly as some of them, definitely freshmen, gave Chan a few little pieces of paper. As the group of younger students walked away, Chan looked at you, his eyes literally filled with question marks.

"Wow Chan, you show up for morning lectures once and the whole Literature department falls for you." You commented with a dry laugh as you walked closer to him, checking the little notes in his hand. He shrugged and put them in the pocket of his trousers, leaving you speechless for a second.

" Wait, you're not throwing them away?"

"No, what if they actually need some tutoring."

"Chan are you serious-"

He looked at you for a second, his fake brown hair slightly touching his eyes. You sighed and shook your head, looking away for a second, when suddenly a huge thought hit you like a train.

What was that? You really couldn't tell, but something was burning. You felt annoyed. By what? You really didn't know how to explain it. What was that for? You had to calm down, those were just random phone numbers on a piece of paper, it wasn’t like that guy was going to contact them anyway. … right?

Breathe. Take a deep breath, you really need it before you do something dumb. Don't be dumb, don't be dumb, he's just a friend after all, he can do whatever he wants. Do not do anything dumb.

"Are you okay?" His usual, dull voice interrupted your thoughts for a second, making you notice you were actually holding quite tight on the scarf that was gently keeping you warm.

Your eyes finally met him, and you stayed silent. Complete silence. For at least five seconds. Your mind was running, gosh it was sprinting. From one thought to the other. And that weird burning was growing, and growing, and growing inside you. Your eyes were analyzing every single detail of his face. His brown eyes, that weird dye that was covering his usual beautiful dark red hair, his plump, full lips, that black turtleneck. And again, his eyes, his lips, his hair, his turtleneck, the ears that were usually adorned with beautiful earrings that were now completely bare.

And again, his eyes, lips, the turtleneck, his hair…

When suddenly, your hands moved before your mind could even realize that. You grabbed him by his arm. That was completely normal, you literally had always done that. But that time, that time you were dragging him to a small, quiet corner, far from those annoying and busy hallways. You were now in a small hallway, near two broken vending machines and an emergency exit.

"What is wrong with you?" He mumbled, his voice clearly expressing his confusion. You said nothing, you just pinned him against the wall, his hands quickly finding their way on your waist, and you looked at him straight in the eyes.

Your hand reached the collar of his black turtleneck, pulling it down with not much delicacy and your lips softly met his warm, sweet skin. He squeezed your waist as you angrily, but lightly, bit his neck, making sure to leave at least a small mark. You took a step back and looked at it for a second before fixing quickly both his turtleneck and shirt. Your eyes slowly met his, and moved to look at his cheeks, who were tinted in a light, pastel red color.

"Please don't contact any of them." You whispered, unexpectedly out of breath due to the adrenaline rush. You didn't let him say nor do anything, you just took a few more steps back before walking away in a rush, headed to the classroom.

Now.

…

What the hell did I just do?!

#inkidz #bang chan #chan fluff #bang chan imagine #bang chan soft hours #skz au #skz imagine #skz blurb #skz soft #stray kids blurbs #stray kids imagine #stray kids au #stray kids chan #bassist!chan #skz fluff #chan imagine

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silverdecepticon93 · 4 years

Note

Hiya silver! I was wondering how the Riddlers would apologize to their s/o after a fight? You can decide what they were arguing about! Thanks!

Harley Quinn Riddler:

Is the most stubborn incarnation of most of The Riddler’s so it might take him a while to apologize to you because as far as he’s concerned, he’s not the one at fault.

However, every passing moment without your presence and affection soon makes Edward realize that it didn’t matter whose fault it was, he didn’t even remember what you two had been fighting about, but he does know that he needed you back in his arms as soon as possible.

Would show up at your house with a bouquet of flowers or an armful of gifts and an “I’m sorry” card. The gifts or arrangement of flowers being incredibly expensive looking.

If you don’t accept his gifts because you feel like he’s trying to bribe you back, he’s so unsure of what to do next.

Is going to have to consult with Bane or Scarecrow because he’s worried the longer you are with him, the more likely you’ll break up with him.

“Why don’t you just admit you’re wrong and apologize?” Scarecrow suggested.

Edward was utterly horrified with the very idea of admitting he was wrong, even if it was you, but he really had to set his priorities straight at the moment since you literally were depriving him of your attention and he hated that.

Eventually he’ll take Scarecrow’s advice and head over to your place, begrudgingly saying that he shouldn’t have been so rude or whatever during the fight and that he was sorry. It’s really hard for him to admit he was wrong so it might sound like he’s a little irritable as he’s apologizing.

Then he blurts out a quiet little “I miss you” at the end and it just hurts you to see him so upset, so you finally accept his apology and happily run into his arms as you told him you had missed him as well.

You’ll notice that he’s hugging you rather tightly, he was so close and so scared that he might’ve accidentally let you go, and he wouldn’t know how to live with himself then.

Arkham Riddler:

If you thought he was grumpy before, you haven’t seen anything yet, especially since he seemed to be rather moody after the fight you two had and much more quick to snapping at someone.

At the same time, he was rather depressed that you weren’t around, and it showed as he hadn’t been able to properly think of an evil plot for the span of time you were gone. All his thoughts being focused on you or missing you.

He’s also been losing sleep due to said thoughts, the bed feeling a lot colder and empty without you there to coax him to sleep.

One day, as he numbly looks at a piece of paper to sketch out his next plan, he starts writing a note to you. Pouring his feelings about how sorry he was about the fight and how much he missed you.

He didn’t really want for you to see it, especially since it seemed so...cheesy, but then he just so happened to be passing by your house and the paper had so happened to be in his pocket.

So he made sure you weren’t home and that no one was looking before finally setting it on your doorstep and leaving as quickly as he could.

That night, he hadn’t fallen asleep once more but was rather confused when he heard knocking on his door and was very surprised to see you standing there with his note in your hand.

“Did you...mean it?” You asked him, gesturing to the note. He sorta got flustered before nodding his head, “Yeah...every word.”

You then noticed that he looked rather tired and asked if he had gotten much sleep, to which he obviously replied with ‘no’. So, with a small smile on your face, you lead him back to the room and laid down.

Of course, he laid down next to you and felt so much better when you cuddled up next to him. The two of you are never going to fight like that for a long time and Edward was going to make sure of that.

JLA Riddler:

In the event that a lover’s tiff happened between you and him, he’d usually hit the ‘pause button’ and just back up to quickly assess the situation and try to remedy it as best as he can.

However, there was something different about this quarrel since he seemed to be rather determined to win it for some reason, which only resulted in loss as you slammed the door on the way out of his office.

Would be a bit huffy but it doesn’t take long for the loneliness to kick in and suddenly the immense feeling of guilt began to settle in as time passed and you hadn’t walked back through the door.

When it becomes late and you haven’t come back yet, Edward just can’t seem to focus on the case files before him and he quickly grabs his coat and rushes out of the door as he runs over to your house.

Might’ve stopped on the way to pick up some flowers for you, just in case, while also trying to think of something he could say to make everything better.

God, does this man have a way with words, one of the many reasons that you fell in love with him, in fact.

When you open the door, expect him to give you the most beautifully worded apology in the world and understand that he means every single word of it and is speaking from his heart.

Fights wouldn’t drag out as long between you two, mostly because he’s a strong believer in not going to bed angry to maintain a healthy relationship, and he can’t stand the idea of you being angry at him.

So it’d be hard for you not to resist his apology and flowers as he soon embraces you in his arms while saying how much he missed you and felt so bad in the little amount of time you had left him.

Once again, he really doesn’t like it when you two fight and will do his best to prevent or remedy it.

Young Justice Riddler:

Considering how he gets treated by other villains and does his best to pent up frustration from not getting the respect that he deserves, it’s only natural that he’d lash out at some point.

But that didn’t excuse him from lashing out at you, of all people, the only one who gave him unconditional respect and support as not only a villain but a person in general.

So with that being said, you eventually had enough and stormed into the shared bedroom of your house, meanwhile he sorta just stood in the living room still fuming before guilt began to roll in and he felt bad for snapping out at you.

Quickly following after you upstairs, he noticed that you had shut the door and locked it since he couldn’t seem to get inside.

“(Y/n), I’m sorry,” He apologized, only to be met with no response, “I really am. Open the door please? For me?”

He frowned slightly when you didn’t respond again, only to perk up slightly after he heard the soft ‘click’ of the door unlocking, and then he slowly and softly opened the door to see you sitting on the edge of the bed.

Your arms were crossed and there was just something about your posture that let him know you were still very upset with him, he didn’t like being the reason that you were upset and let out another soft “I’m sorry, (Y/n).”

Climbing on the bed and wrapping his arms around your waist, he put his chin on your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your cheek, which you responded by turning your head to look away from him.

He frowned when you did so before finally trailing kisses from your shoulder to up your neck, making you slightly laugh a little which caused him to smile a bit. Eventually, he soon began to pepper the side of your face in kisses as you tried to squirm out of his grip but he had a surprisingly strong grip on you.

“Eddie!” You giggled as he continued his relentless attack of affection, “Fine, fine! I forgive you! Feel lucky you’re cute!”

TNBA Riddler:

Sometimes being a villain can be stressful, especially when your foe was someone as clever and mysterious as Batman so it was only natural that sometimes Edward would get frustrated.

You tried to be patient with him because you loved him, but there was a difference between being patient and being a doormat, and you were no doormat.

So you had packed up most of your things to go spend the night at a friend’s house after you and Eddie had gotten into another fight and were now storming out of the house.

You barely made it through the door when you felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist and hold you back from leaving, Eddie stuffing his face in your (h/c) locks as he whispered over and over to you not to go.

You tried to keep a tough front, try to be apathetic to his pleas and sternly told him that you weren’t going to stick around if he was going to be so rude to you.

However, you felt yourself soften when his voice broke as he pleaded once more for you not to leave, and sighed in defeat.

“Maybe...I won’t leave, only if you apologize, though.” You said sternly.

Not one minute later did he not only say he was sorry but he soon began to go on and on about how he needed you and how he was wrong to snap at you and that he’d never do it again.

You actually had to cut him off mid-apology to tell him that you forgave him before telling him how sweet he was.

Took a little break from crime after that, since it was putting him under a lot of stress and he never wanted to take it out on you again.

BTAS Riddler:

When your Eddie didn’t do anything to rebuke the women who were flirting with him at the gala, you were understandably upset and wanted to talk it out with him, however, Edward was just too flustered by the attention that he had unknowingly brushed you off.

Needless to say, an argument ensued afterwards and ended up with you sleeping on the couch since you were way too upset with Edward to sleep next to him, then when he woke up, you seemed to have gone to work early.

You knew Edward’s schedule like the back of your hand so making a few adjustments and arrangements, you were able to avoid him for an entire day, which he found to be petty at first but now he was genuinely starting to hate it.

The Rogues have to deal with Edward being all mopey and upset during meetings, Batman notices that all his recent crimes are near stores or places that you like, often times he’s fighting The Riddler’s goons while Edward himself was staring sadly at a display window that had something you surely would’ve liked.

God, he hated not being able to hold you close to him at night and not getting his special good morning kiss from you, and is just utterly depressed during the entire thing. The rogues help him apologize for the fight because they all sorta feel bad for him, so after brainstorming some ideas, that’s when they eventually settled on a romantic dinner between you two.

“I’m so nervous, like on our first date,” Edward muttered as he fidgeted with his fingers in his lap as he looked at Scarecrow, “What if this doesn’t work? Or, (Y/n) doesn’t want to see me still? Or-”

“Eddie, just shut up. Harley and Ivy are bringing them over, you just have to apologize and have a nice night.” Jonathan informed him.

When you walked through the door, Edward was so happy to see you again and literally couldn’t help but tackle you in a hug while apologizing and saying how the fight was his fault and how he should’ve never made you feel that way.

Somehow, you seemed to forgive him and apologized for being so harsh when being mad at him, and he literally could have cried of happiness that you two weren’t fighting anymore.

The rest of the dinner went off without a hitch, it was actually kinda cute because Edward was so nervous that it reminded you of your first date with him.

Zero Year Riddler:

God, he can also be pretty stubborn and also would have a hard time admitting that he was in the wrong about something.

He’ll act like he doesn’t care that you're ignoring him and will be like “well, two can play at that game” and then try to ignore you.

Except he doesn’t exactly last long and just laughs it off as you two being immature, however, you weren’t laughing with him.

It’s kinda hard to focus on anything else other than you being mad at him and he can’t focus correctly if he’s constantly thinking about you and how you’re mad at him.

Eventually he’ll just try to be more affectionate with you but if you reprimand his affections or just walk away from him, then he’s going to feel really hurt.

He switches from being sad to annoyed about the situation before he just sorta thinks about it a bit more and realizes that he didn’t even remember what you two were fighting about anymore.

Then he’d realize that it didn’t matter what you two were fighting about and that he should just swallow his pride and apologize to you.

It’s going to be a bit awkward and he’s going to stutter a little because it’s not exactly easy for him to apologize.

Understand that he’s trying his best and if you can, save him the embarrassment of tripping over his words and forgive him.

Or you can watch him suffer as he tries to make his apology sound genuine and romantic but failing. Either way, you’ll forgive him.

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hatsukeii · 4 years

Text

𝐋𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫

𝐏𝐭.𝟑- 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏.𝟓𝐤+

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

It’s hard to focus in class when your mind is stuck on a fucking puzzle of a person. It’s even harder when he’s right in front of you, blocking your view. Did it really have to be today? Hm? He really had to transfer to your science class today? Maybe it was just a coincidence, or maybe it was a way the universe decided to taunt you with. “Hey, you want to lose the thought of him? Cool, here, stare at his back throughout your science lesson!” Either way, this was exactly what you didn’t want happening. “Hey, hey you, dude can you hear me?” You poked your pencil into his back frantically, praying for even the slightest reaction. A nod, a shrug, anything. “Please, I can’t see shit sitting behind you, can we switch?” Everything went silent when the teacher stopped talking. “(Y/n), is there something you would like to share with the class?” Timidly, you stood up from your seat, head hanging low as you gripped the pen tighter, face red and hot from the embarrassment of being called out openly in front of 24 other students. “Nothing Miss, I just can’t see the board because Tsuk-” You stopped yourself before you could accidentally blurt his name out. You weren’t about to let him know you found out his name, which he never revealed to you. “He’s too tall.” The older woman nodded her head slowly, as if she was trying to take back her previous sentence. “Then you should’ve told me earlier. Tsukishima, please switch seats with them.” “Sure.”

The glare that was burning into your back crawled up your spine chillingly as you nervously packed all your notes up. You were embarrassed about being nervous but quickly discarded the thought. Who wouldn’t be nervous if someone started glaring daggers at you so vigorously that you could feel them without even looking? Shaking your head, you slung your bag over your shoulder, itching to get out of the lab as soon as you possibly can. “He didn’t hear me, I’m sure he didn’t. He couldn’t have.” Mumbling pointlessly worked to stop your eyes from darting around and maybe even cooled your burning hot ears down, even if it was just by a bit. Maybe convincing yourself he didn’t hear you would make it true? Right? Your train of thoughts was interrupted when you jerked forward, sudden pain flashing through your arm all the way to your shoulder as your legs are forced to move along with your body. Your wrist was being squeezed so hard that you’re almost certain a bruise will form in its place. Looking up, your eyes widened in shock and disbelief as your eyes were met with a full head of blond hair. This was exactly who you were trying to avoid. “Uh, where exactly are you takin-” Your words were caught in your throat as Tsukishima sent another icy glare at you. You shut your mouth and just followed him, not wanting to test his limits at all. His knuckles were white from gripping your wrist so hard, you almost yelled out in pain when he threw it back to your side. “Ow, dude what the hell!”

“Care to explain how you got my name?”

The air was thick as your mind scrambled for an answer that would satisfy him. What was he expecting? Why was it such a big deal that you knew his name?

“What’s your deal? I got it from Mai, if it rattles you that much to not know.”

His face stayed completely indifferent, and it was intimidating. Almost terrifying in a way. The way his head was tilted at a slight angle, one of his eyebrows perked as he stifled a breathy chuckle, that was a sight you never wanted to witness again. Ever. “And why the fuck would Mai randomly tell you my name? Did you not take the hint when I left my name out of the conversation the other day?” Heat slowly burned from your chest, to your ears, and to your throat. “Dude fucking chill, I just told her about how I helped you through that panic attack, what do you want me to do?” To you, your reply wasn’t triggering or anything. All girls do is gossip, right? It was pretty much expected, however, Tsukishima’s face said otherwise. “Tch, heh.” Another breathy chuckle. What was it with him and breathy chuckles? Was it a way for him to mock you? Accuse you for doing something he didn’t like? “When did I ever say you could tell someone I had a panic attack?” Once that sentence came out of his mouth, whatever retort you were ready to throw at him stopped at your throat as your mind registered how badly you fucked up. “I- but I didn’t- was I not supposed to tell?” Clicking his tongue, his nimble fingers travelled up to his glasses, giving them a light push as he rolled his eyes. “No, you weren’t supposed to.” “Well, um I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” The blond turned around, not sparing another glance as he spat out a final sentence to you.

“Let’s never talk again. Please.”

Which led to you, sitting on your bed, once again trying to get your mind off of him. “Oh shit, I really done fucked up this time.” What was this feeling? This bizarre determination blooming in your chest, pulling you further ahead on a lasso into the depths of the mind of the boy that was Tsukishima Kei? The way he heaved breathy, sarcastic chuckles, his popularity despite how closed off his personality is, it was intriguing. His entire presence was daring you to dig deeper into this wormhole. “What the fuck do I do now...” You fell into your bed, the mattress sinking behind you. You really shouldn’t have been feeling like this. Tsukishima was quite literally irrelevant in your life, maybe except for that one time you stayed with him for a while to calm him down. He could probably figure out his problems just fine by himself. You interfering wasn’t going to make a difference at all. However, the small, irrational part of your mind was drilling its words into your mind. What if this was a lasting problem for him? What if you were fated to meet in that bustling hallway the other day? What if you were the person that could provide him comfort when he needs it the most? Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, your eyes squinted as your brows knitted. You were cringing so hard at your own fantasies. It was probably because of how boring your life has been lately. There was absolutely nothing for you to look forward to. Life was becoming more of a chore than it should. This, however. This was the little bit of spice you were craving so dearly for. If anybody needed help, you wouldn’t hesitate at this point. Anything was on the table as long as it could intrigue you enough to keep searching for a solution.

Being so invested in your own thoughts, the simple ring of your phone was enough to make you jolt up in surprise from your bed. “My god, that scared the shit out of me.” Placing a hand on your chest, you slowly inched yourself to the end of your bed and reached over to your phone, which was conveniently charging on the floor. “No caller ID, huh...” You hesitated, managing your expectations. “What if it’s him? No, nonono it’s probably not him, (Y/n), chill, deep breaths.” After your finger hovered above the answer button for what seemed like an eternity, you pressed the green circle, before turning it on speaker mode. “Hel-” “I’M SO SORRY!” “What?” The voice on the other side of the line sounded apologetic, almost in a frantic way. “First off, who is this?” A few seconds went by without a word. “I’m Yamaguchi, I saw you get dragged off by Tsukki this morning, please don’t mind him! He acts like this sometimes!” You stifled a chuckle, before cracking up like a madwoman. “SERIOUSLY? HAHAHAHA, WHY WOULD YOU APOLOGISE ON BEHALF OF HIM?” You could almost imagine Yamaguchi’s hands waving in front of him. “NONONO IT’S JUST BECAUSE TSUKKI DOESN’T LIKE TO APOLOGISE BY HIMSELF! You see, he tends to push people away for no reason, it’s really not a personal thing!” Your mouth stretched up into a smirk as a genius idea popped into your brain like an animated light bulb. “Well, if that’s the case, I won’t accept the apology until he does it himself in person. What about you convince him to give me a proper one instead of having his friend do it for him, hm?” Ending the call, you continued to giggle underneath your blanket, seal clapping your hands until it landed in the wrong position and hit your wrist instead. You winced at the familiar pain that flashed through the flesh of your wrist. “Oh that little shit really messed my wrist up this morning didn’t he?” Without thinking, you started poking the bruises, wincing in pain with each poke. “He better give me a nice, big apology tomorrow or I’ll beat his ass...”

Tags:

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Guess what YA GIRL HATSSUN’S BACK I’m so sorry I was unmotivated but I’M BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER MAYBE NOT REALLY<33

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #hq tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #lemons and sugar #haikyuu imagine #hq imagine #haikyuu scenario #hq scenario #hi im back and i reallly hope my writing has improved any feedback is appreciated #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #hq headcanons #anime #manga

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let-me-write-shit · 4 years

Text

Somebody To You: 25

Friendly reminder to please Like and/or Reblog. It helps more than you think! :)

Word Count: 4071

Click Here For Previous Chapter & Other Completed Stories

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CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

There was no use in dwelling over Harry right now. It seemed silly to even want to cry, considering Paul, who was seated across from her, was literally fighting for his life. Who was she to cry over a boy that had no interest in dating her? Her problems seemed minuscule to the real tragedies happening all around her. The four of them finished up dinner and when they had finished, Carol whisked their dishes away to wash.

“I should get Zoey over to her mom’s to change now so I can get to the bar in time,” Michael called, standing up, “We’ll meet you there later?”

“Yeah, go on. We’ll see you there,” Paul nodded from his seat at the table.

Being alone with Michael wasn’t as awkward as she thought it’d be. His old, beat-up red car, which usually reeked of stale cigarettes, now only had a lingering scent that was hidden behind the sweet smell of moonlight breeze Gain car fresheners. He explained to her how he’d quit smoking a month ago and it was going well. The twenty-minute conversation to her parents’ house didn’t seem forced like she expected it to be. And he hadn’t once made a pass at her. Maybe he finally moved on.

When she led him into the landing of her parents’ house, her mom’s voice rang out, “Zoey? Is that you?”

“Yeah, I’ve got Mikey with me!” she called back, urging him on.

She could hear her mom’s voice sing his name from the other room and they both shared a look, knowing that Michael was about to be trapped in the endless tirades of Mary. Zoey giggled watching him drag his feet in the directions of the living room, leaving her to go change.

“Hurry,” he quietly urged before he rounded the corner.

She had managed to take up her luggage that morning, so she made her way towards the bedroom, noticing Katie’s bed neatly made and the lights still off. Her car was in the driveway when they arrived, so she must be in the living room with her mom.

Rummaging through her suitcase, Zoey grew more frustrated, feeling silly. All of her clothes were new and were geared more towards her life in LA. Her wardrobe had changed along with her personality and she felt like if she walked downstairs wearing any of these clothes Michael would see right through her and think that she was an imposter.

She had no choice. She didn’t fit into Katie’s clothes and there was no time to go shopping. With a sigh, she slipped into a straight, spaghetti-strapped, white dress and paired it with white sneakers and a jean jacket to make it look more casual. She ran her fingers through her dirty blonde hair, looking at herself in the reflection of Katie’s mirror, finally embracing her new look. This was her. It took years to feel comfortable in her own skin and she wasn’t going to let her insecurities ruin that.

Zoey bounced down the stairs and towards the living room where, sure enough, Katie sat beside Michael, both listening to Mary blabber on about how sorry she was to hear the news of Michael’s dad and the trauma he and Zoey have experienced already. Zoey would have felt embarrassed for her mother’s constant and unwanted reminders, but Michael was used to it having had Mary in his life for five years now. He knew she meant no harm from it and had grown enough thick skin by this point to not pay it any mind.

“I’m ready,” Zoey announced, walking into the room.

“Where are you going?” Katie asked curiously.

Michael stood up, “I have a show tonight at Slyfox. You can join us if you want.”

Before Katie could respond, Mary interrupted, chuckling slightly, “No, Katie’s too young to go.”

“But I’m eighteen! And Zoey will be there!” Katie countered, eyes pleading, but to no avail. Her mom wouldn’t budge.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Michael roughed up Katie’s hair, “maybe next time.”

Zoey always appreciated how Michael treated her younger sister and tried to include her in things, even though it usually got shot down by her parents. Zoey had tried talking to her mom about loosening the reins on Katie a little bit, but the conversation clearly hadn’t done much. At least she started college soon. Her freedom was only weeks away.

“You nervous to see your old coworkers?” Michael asked as they loaded back into the car.

Zoey, shrugged, “A little. But I miss them.”

“Well, the guys are excited to see you,” he said, mentioning his bandmates, “I think Dan is bringing Becky, so you’ll get to see her, too.”

Zoey smiled. Becky was Dan’s girlfriend. The two of them have been dating since right around the time she and Michael first got together. Becky was a sweet girl, but shy like her sister. The two of them had gotten along really well, hanging out during their band rehearsals and attending their little shows together. Zoey liked to think that she had helped Becky come out of her shell in the beginning.

“Listen,” Michael started, his tone a little hesitant as he scratched the back of his head, “I think I should warn you, in case you hear it from any of the guys, but, uh...I’m kinda seeing someone.”

“Oh?”

She had been anticipating this conversation. She knew the day would come where Michael would have moved on and started dating again, but honestly, it threw her off guard. She was happy for him, don’t get her wrong, but there would always be a part of her that still loved Michael. They had been through a lot together for nearly five years and she was so close to his family. There were so many plans and expectations within their relationship that they never got to carry out. They had talked about kids and marriage and buying a house together, and it ended before either of them could accomplish any of it. She wasn’t hurt. She’s the one that ended things, after all. And she didn’t regret that decision, either. But it still left her a little sad. It was the ending of an era.

Michael rushed to explain himself, his tone still the same. She could tell he was trying to ease into it, afraid of hurting her feelings, “It’s nothing serious, yet. But, yeah, I just thought you should know.”

Zoey turned to look at him, grinning understandingly, “I’m happy for you. You deserve it.”

Michael smiled back, nodding. She could see the relief wash over him as his shoulders relaxed. It’s weird - being back in this car with him. There were so many memories involving this car. A stain on the upholstery of her seat from when she accidentally spilled hot chocolate after a spontaneous midnight Wawa run. Warn out stereo buttons from the endless song skipping they did on their long road trips to the Poconos. A dent in the dash from when she had kicked it a little too hard in an attempt to get to the back seat. The number of times they had car sex in the back was, admittedly, a bit ridiculous.

It started pretty early on at the beginning of their relationship. They met at the Slyfox. His band was playing a gig while she bartended. His friends dared him to ask her for her phone number, typical young kid shit. Then it turned into them sneaking away during break to have sex in his car. She’d always come back in, hair disheveled, trying her best to act nonchalant. She had an inkling everyone knew what she was doing, but no one said anything. Not like Andy would. Andy had no problem calling her out.

They had their fair share of fun during their relationship, that’s for sure. And Jess liked him, which only furthered her appeal for him. Jess, as kind and personable as she was, was very protective over Zoey and the men she dated. Having fun was one thing, but if you were going to make it official, it better be a good guy. It wasn’t often that Jess approved of the guys she dated. It could have been why Zoey held onto her relationship for so long. She always had a feeling that she was destined for something, or someone, else. But Jess liked her and Zoey loved his family, so why bother ruining that on a nagging hunch?

She knew now that she was right. They were destined for something else. It was proof enough that she needed to listen to her instincts more. Which is why she tried so hard to listen to her instincts when trying to cut things off with Harry. Ever heard of the saying ‘If you care about something, let it go. If it returns, it was meant to be?’ It wasn’t a test for Harry. He didn’t get brownie points if he shot her a random text saying ‘Sorry. Let’s date.’ But, to her, there was some sort of truth in the statement. She knew how much she cared about Harry, romantically, and platonically. Harry was, in every literal sense of the word, her soulmate. She knew it to be true very early on in their relationship.

Zoey honestly believed that this hiccup that was happening between them wouldn’t last forever. Things may not end up the way she wanted; she might not ever get the chance to be with him on an intimate level again. And she was okay with that if it meant just having him in his life. But he needed to be ready. Emotionally, he still didn’t know who he was or what he wanted to become. He needed to figure that out himself. She had no doubt in her mind that he would return to her one day. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not a year from now. Maybe not even ten years from now. But one day, he’d be back. She had to believe that. She needed to believe that. Otherwise, she just made the biggest mistake of her life.

Pulling up to the bar filled her with the biggest sense of nostalgia. When they walked through the door and the aroma of liquor and greasy food hit her, a smile instantly formed on her face. Everything still looked the same as it did the day she left. Lighting so dim that it took a minute to adjust, old tables and chairs scattered throughout the building, a poorly wiped down bartop with early 2000’s hits playing loudly over the speaker, patrons scattered around loudly yapping at each other. She saw the wall of framed pictures with workers and various ‘famous’ people, who weren’t all that famous to begin with, but noticeable enough. She noticed one framed picture that stood out from the rest. It wasn’t quite in the center, but close to it. A framed picture of Jess smiling and holding up a bottle of beer with light-up necklaces and gaudy party hats amongst the rest of their coworkers, Zoey standing right beside her, with an edited banner at the bottom that read ‘Jessica Lewis. Rest In Peace.’.

Zoey remembered the day that picture was taken. It was New Years a few months before Jess died. Their boss had gathered everyone together to take a picture for their Facebook page to advertise discounted drinks. Jess was in the center because of course she was. Everyone loved him.

“Zoey?” she heard the familiar booming voice of Dan, Michael’s friend, and the singer of their band. She turned and smiled seeing him and the rest of the guys in the band walking towards her. “Holy shit, I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair down. How have you been? You look hot!”

Zoey laughed, giving him and the rest of the boys hugs. Dan was always very blunt, as were the rest of the guys. Before she could respond, Zach, the drummer, joked, “Not here to waste your time on this loser again, are you?” he backhanded Michael on the chest with a smirk.

“Absolutely not,” she laughed, bantering, “I live in LA now. I’ve got a city full of D-list celebrities at my disposal.”

Suddenly, she heard a screeching echo from behind the bar and turned to see her old coworker, Riley, jumping over, “Shut the fuck up! Zoey? What the hell are you doing back here?” She ran, practically tackling Zoey into the wall with such force that a framed fire exit picture came crashing to the ground. Riley paid it no mind, however, as she was too busy admiring Zoey’s hair and outfit. “Fuck! What’s in the LA water? You look so good!”

After seeing the commotion that Riley caused, more of her old coworkers had realized who had come in and they all started running over to greet her, welcoming her back with warm hugs and compliments. Michael and the guys had excused themselves to finish setting up while Zoey made her way over to the bar so that she could continue talking to her friends while they worked, laughing, and exchanging old stories while they caught her up on what’s been going on at the bar.

She felt a presence standing behind her and she turned to see Becky, a nervous grin on her face. Zoey’s eyes lit up and she stood to pull her into a hug, “Becky, I missed you!”

“I missed you, too,” she muttered, smiling wider. “I was wondering when you’d come back to visit. Wish it was on better terms, though. I’m sure Paul was happy to see you.”

Zoey nodded solemnly, “It’s hard to believe it’s real, you know?”

“I know, he’s a good man.”

It didn’t take long for the boys to finish up their tuning before they were finally introduced and began playing. Monday nights were always live-music nights at Slyfox in an attempt to draw in more business. And it worked pretty well. The first half of the night was always slower, but the crowds usually started pouring in around 9 PM and you could always be sure to see the same groups of people coming in.

Eventually, Michael’s parents had gotten there. They always did their best to attend any performance of their son’s, always having been supportive of his hobby of music. They knew all of the songs, singing and dancing along. Zoey always admired their parenting and knew that if she were ever given the chance to be a mother, she would want to be just like them.

Listening to the band play brought Zoey back even more. She felt like she was reliving her memories at this point. The only reason she wasn’t entirely warped into this false sense of reality was because Jess wasn’t there. It just didn’t feel right being here without her. The familiar chords of a slower song began playing. It was a song that Michael had written about Zoey in their first year of dating, and to this day was still one of the favorites amongst the crowd. It wasn’t cheesy or too romantic; just about seeing a pretty girl from across the bar. But it was a tradition for Paul to dance with Zoey to this song.

Instinctively, the two turned to look at each other and Carol smiled, knowingly, as Paul struggled for a split second to stand up, “I’ve got to dance with my girl,” he grinned, holding a hand out for her.

Zoey grinned, taking his hand as he led her a few feet away at the edge of the crowd of people before she turned and put a hand gently on her waist while the other continued to hold onto her hand. Paul was a tall man, towering over her a good eight inches. She rested her head on his chest, bonier than she remembered it being. But it eased her tension to hear his heart beating strongly in his chest. She thought, for a moment, maybe it wasn’t true. Maybe he wasn’t dying. A man this good and this kind couldn’t be taken from them. But she felt his weight beginning to bear down on her, becoming too tired to stand for much longer. She felt angry and upset. Why was this happening? It wasn’t fair.

“You alright?” she whispered, trying not to sound too concerned.

His voice replied, more strained, but confident, “Yeah, I’ve got a strong dance partner.”

The song ended and Zoey led him back towards his wife who urged him to sit down while Zoey shared a quick look with Michael. He nodded, seeing the worry in her eyes, and she knew that he felt it, too.

Harry hardly got any sleep that night, and by the next morning, he had practically downed a quart of coffee at his mother’s house for breakfast with her and Gemma, the words from the fight of last night repeating in his head. He analyzed every tone in each word he spoke, infuriating himself. He was better than that. He knew he was. For years he has been handling tough, hard-hitting questions with grace and ease. Why was it that he struggled when it came to his own intimate relationships he got flustered and spoke out of his ass? Almost every single thing he said he didn’t mean. Why was it so hard for him?

Zoey was right. She had never been anything but open and honest with him. There was no reason for him to feel like he couldn’t tell her any of what he was feeling. He didn’t need to worry about hurting her feelings because she was the most understandable person he knew. He was so caught up in being afraid that he was going to lose her, that he pushed her away. What kind of idiot did that make him?

He wanted to call her back or text her, but he didn’t know what to say. An apology seemed pitiful. He couldn’t seem to find the right words to express just how regretful he was. And he still couldn’t figure out everything he was feeling enough to give her an answer to her question. He cared for her so deeply that hearing the silence on the other end of the line just about shattered his heart. And waking up this morning to texts from everyone but her only made it worse.

He wondered how her night was with Michael. She said that she had no intention of getting back with him, but he still found himself wondering if he had pushed her back into the arms of her ex. He knew how strong of a relationship she had with his family, it was certainly possible. He needed to stop thinking this way. He needed to stop assuming.

“Now, I know you don’t have jetlag,” Harry’s mom, Anne, spoke after placing her cup on the table, noticing Harry’s exhaustion, “Rome is only an hour difference. What’s the matter, darling?”

“You look like you got dumped,” Gemma teased, unknowingly.

The look on Harry’s face must have hit both women at the same time because their eyes widened in realization and they shared a glance before Anne spoke again, more softly, “Is it that Zoey girl?”

“Mom,” Harry warned.

“I didn’t know you two were dating,” Gemma spoke.

“We weren’t.”

“Well did something happen in Italy, then?” his sister pressed. When Harry didn’t answer, her eyebrows raised and a smirk began to form, “It did, didn’t it? I knew you liked her!”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure she hates me now.”

“What happened, dear?” his mom asked, placing a hand on top of his.

Harry sighed, slouching more in his chair, “Do we have to talk about this?”

“Well, maybe we can be of some help,” his mom offered.

Harry hesitated, taking a moment to decide before taking a breath. Why not? “It’s my fault, really. Things happened in Italy and they were great. But then she asked where our relationship was going and I panicked and said I didn’t know and accused her of still wanting to be with her ex-boyfriend because she flew home to visit him.”

“Why is she visiting her ex-boyfriend?” Gemma asked, her face screwed up in judgment.

Harry winced, covering his face with his hands, embarrassed as he explained, “Because she found out his dad is dying of cancer and has three months to live. And she’s extremely close to him.”

The girls gasped. He didn’t need to look up at their faces. He knew that the judgment they had for Zoey a second ago would be shifted onto him. And his intuition was correct as he heard his mom breathe his name in disappointment, “Oh, Harry.” He looked up to see her eyes filled with sadness, almost pleading, “You didn’t.”

He groaned, throwing his head back, “I know. I don’t know why I said it. She’s the one that broke up with him in the first place. I just panicked!”

“Well, why did you panic, you idiot? You obviously like her!” Gemma urged, as though it was the most obvious thing on the planet.

“You know how hard dating is for me!” Harry defended himself, “It’s a lot more complicated than just liking each other.”

“Darling,” Anne spoke so evenly that she made everything sound so simple and plain, “It’s okay to be worried. We know your life isn’t as black and white as most people, and that’s okay. But you remember how it feels to lose a loved one from cancer. Remember Robin and Johannah? Remember how hard that was for you? All she needs is someone who understands and someone who can be there for her. Not the added pressure that you put on her.”

“I know. I messed up,” Harry groaned into his palms, “I don’t know what to do. I really don’t want to lose her. I’m just…I don’t know. My life isn’t easy to keep up with.”

“Do you care about her?” Anne asked.

“Yes.”

“Then don’t you think she can decide if she can keep up with you or not?”

“....yes.”

“Then tell her, you idiot!” Gemma smacked him.

“What if she’s still pissed off at me? What if she doesn’t want anything to do with me?” he stressed.

Anne shot her daughter a look of warning before calmly explaining, “Darling, you both clearly care about each other. She might still be upset, but I doubt she’d be unwilling to talk to you. You don’t have to jump into a relationship if you don’t want to. But you should be honest with yourself and her and have a conversation about what you really want out of it. If you just want her in your life as a friend, then tell her. But if seeing her with someone else is upsetting you that much, then maybe you should give it a try. All I will say on the matter is that you seemed genuinely happy when she was in your life. Just be honest with her. Lay all of your feelings out on the table and go from there.”

Harry took a breath, letting the words his mother said to sink in. He needed time to gather his thoughts. He needed to figure out everything he felt. He looked at his phone to see the time. It was 9 AM in London.

“It’s too early to call her right now,” he said, “It’s only 3 AM.”

“Don’t call her! Go to her!” Gemma threw her hands up.

“Honey, he just flew back home. He can just Facetime her or something.”

“Mom, it’ll be more romantic if he flies to her!” she shot back, turning to Harry, “Just go to her. You said you visited her family before. Do you remember where they lived?”

Harry sat up, intrigued by what his sister was saying, “Y-yeah, I think so. I have her family’s phone number, though. I could always get it.”

“Then go!”

Harry nodded, flustered trying to get up from his seat.

“Not this second, Harry,” Anne reached up to his arm with a laugh, “You can carry out your Romantic Comedy fantasy after breakfast.”

Harry laughed, nervously as the two of the girls he loved most in his life chuckled at him and took a swig of their coffees, nerves rushing through his veins. How could he eat now? He was too anxious.

KEEP READING

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Taglist for Somebody To You:

@thurhomish , @stilljosiegrossie , @odetostep , @apples2019 , @stylesmioamore , @inyourhaven

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mermaidcashton · 4 years

Text

all the pretty girls

author: claire (@mermaidcashton) ship/AU: calum hood/luke hemmings, genderswap!AU prompt: “Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.” wordcount: 1519 warnings: swearing, hint of sexual content dedication: this one is for gay!sos group chat, and all the other wlw 5sos fans 💘 a/n: • so, i wanted wlw!5sos and established relationship, self-indulgent, domestic cuteness and i...think i have achieved that? lol • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (in which we all chose from a list of AU’s and had the above prompt quote to include - i will share the masterlist for you to see everyone elses when it’s finished!) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘honey’ by kehlani

all the pretty girls ***

all the pretty girls in the world but i'm in this space with you

***

“Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.” “Oh!” Luke gasped, burying her head further into Calum’s shoulder. Calum was bemused. “Haven’t you seen this movie like ten times?” “Fuck,I think I’ve seen this movie ten times.” Calum would be seriously questioning her life choices if she hadn’t taken into account that every time she’d ever watched it, she’d had the hottest woman she’d ever met pressed against her. That seriously balanced the scales of shitty cinema, in Calum’s opinion.

“It’s just so cute.” Luke sniffed. Calum pretended not to notice her wiping her nose on Calum’s sleeve; she looked cute enough in it to get away with almost anything.

Right now Luke was wearing avocado print pyjama shorts and Calum’s Santa Cruz sweatshirt (despite owning at least 300 separate items of clothing, in Calum’s most conservative estimations), with her blonde hair in a messy bun and the beginnings of a snotty nose. Her eyelashes were glossy with the tears she’d brushed away, and Calum thought she’d still be willing to watch every straight-to-video 00’s rom com ever made as long as it was what Luke wanted.

“Does this seriously not make you emotional? He gave up Paris for her! Paris, Calum!” Luke whined, craning her neck to look up at Calum from her position under her arm, her lithe body laid across the sofa.

Calum smirked. “Come on, babe; you know ‘Wall-E’ is the only movie that makes me feel anything.”

Luke rolled her eyes, but giggled all the same before pressing on insistently. “It’s so romantic, though. Isn’t this the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard?” “No?” Calum scoffed, settling back against the mountain of cushions that seemed to grow every time they went to Ikea. Then it struck her. “Hang on, are you saying that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard?!”

“Yeah…” Luke let out another dreamy sigh before stilling almost imperceptibly. Oh, shit.

“What?!” Calum said, already looking more indignant than the time Luke had accidentally cheered for Arsenal insead of Liverpool (“Your Liverpool shirt is red, Calum! What the hell is an away kit?! I hate football!”). “Obviously I wasn’t includi-” Luke tried to recover, but Calum was too far gone. “I write the sickest anniversary cards! My last Valentine’s Day card to you? Fuckin’ poetry, Luke! I mean, not literally because that’s lame as fuck, but I am romantic as shit!”

Calum knew that generally speaking, people would consider Luke to be the more romantic in the relationship. Everyone who lived within 5 miles of their apartment had probably heard Luke tell Calum she loved her, or seen her entwine their hands, or pout her lips for a kiss she had to have right that second, at least twice. She was more prone to posting photos of Calum on Instagram with captions that ranged from sweet to thirsty as hell. Every time she attempted to bake for Calum, it would almost always be using a heart-shaped mould or cutter she’d found at the pound shop down the street. And at Calum’s gigs, everyone always knew exactly where she was in the crowd because Luke was yelling about the incredibly sexy bassist with the best basslines in the history of bass at every possible moment.

However, Calum thought her own brand of romance of just as valid, and Luke seemed to like it. Calum was a fan of surprising Luke with flowers, albeit wild bouquets of sunflowers and daisies rather than roses or peonies (“Wildflowers for my Wildflower.”), and of playing records on vinyl that she thought Luke would like - or that reminded her of her girlfriend - while they ate a dinner Calum had made from scratch because she’d seen a recipe online that she knew Luke would love. Calum also trusted Luke in a way that was rare for her, and lying in the dark of the their bedroom, speaking out loud things she’d never told anyone - childhood memories of her parents messy divorce, her deepest fears, greatest dreams, biggest secrets - whilst her girlfriend rubbed comforting circles over her hip and placed gentle kisses on her shoulder, felt intimate and special in a way Calum hoped Luke felt was romantic. And like she said - her card writing skills were sick.

Luke sat up on the sofa, freeing herself from underneath Calum’s arm. She clicked the pause button on the remote, dropping it onto the rug as she threw her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, I take it back; you are the most romantic I only meant in, like, movies and stuff! Obviously you are the most romantic and beautiful and I love you!”

Calum sniffed, trying to keep her sad face on without breaking. “Obviously not, as I don’t have a European city to not go to for you…” Luke saw her girlfriend’s mouth twitch at the corner. Right. She tucked her long legs underneath herself, settling back on the sofa as she spoke. “Like I said, I take it back - I was wrong.”

Calum could count on one hand the amount of time she had heard Luke say those three words during their relationship, and was ready to celebrate a substantial victory, until she clocked the smile spreading across Luke’s face that spelled trouble.

Luke continued in a purposely casual voice. “The actual most romantic thing I’ve ever heard was on our third date, when you drank all those daiquiris and told me that one day you were gonna ‘fucking wife me’.” Calum groaned and tried to sink back into the sofa so it could swallow her whole; this plan was thwarted by all the Ikea cushions.

“Shut up, that wasn’t me. You must have me confused with your other girlfriend. I don’t even drink daiquiris.” Luke’s distinctive laugh filled Calum’s ears; she loved that sound (it was in her top 3 sounds that Luke made), but right now she felt so embarrassed at the memory of her nerves getting the better of her in a Tapas restaurant that she couldn’t really enjoy it.

“Maybe not anymore! But Ashton told me how much of the morning after you spent with your head in the toilet, so I guess it makes sense you gave them up.” Luke teased, her blue eyes bright with mischief.

“I hate Ashton.” Calum mumbled, with nowhere near as much heat as was currently in her cheeks.

Luke’s giggles had taken on a unmistakable air of victory; Calum could not let this stand.

“Right, that’s it; we’re watching ‘Pulp Fiction’!” Calum declared, leaning down to feel around on the floor in the dimly lit living room for the remote where Luke had abandoned it. “Noooo!” Luke whined, reaching out to grab Calum’s wrists as she rose in triumph. “Cal!” She pouted as she missed entirely. It had always made Calum laugh when Luke tried to overpower her in any way; she was clumsy, and she wasn’t quick or strong enough to get the jump on Calum, unless she cheated (which she often did). In the past, Calum had hoped Luke wouldn’t notice the way she clenched her thighs together when the blonde would wiggle against her, bite her lip, whine or pant. Inevitably, as their relationship had continued, Luke had become fully aware of the effect she had on Calum, and now employed her sexuality as a weapon against Calum whenever she deemed it necessary. Nowadays, she tended to cut to the chase, as she was now. Calum barely registered the remote being extracted from her slackening grip as Luke held the grey sweatshirt and her cropped pyjama top up above her chin with one hand. She did register Luke’s small but perfectly formed tits, and wondered briefly what they had been talking about. Luke didn’t let her clothes drop back down to cover her breasts until she’d already unpaused the movie and stashed the remote underneath the armrest on her side of the sofa.

“That...was savage.” Calum deadpanned, shaking her head as she clambered to her feet. Luke put on her most innocent smile (which was not that innocent if you knew her as well as Calum did). “Do you want another drink?” “Yes please, gorgeous.” Luke replied with her eyes still fixed to the screen, her lips moving in the time with the actress on screen with the dodgy bangs. Calum rolled her eyes fondly before making her way to their small kitchen in search of rosé.

She didn’t notice it until she closed the fridge again, but Luke had responded.

Earlier in the day, Luke had used their alphabet fridge magnets to spell out ‘BUY MORE MILK’. Upon seeing this just after lunch, Calum had immediately checked she had the right letters to arrange the obvious reply; ‘NO FUCK U’, giggling to herself the whole time she’d been doing it. She let out a snort, picking up the personalised wine glasses Michael had gifted them when they moved in together. She set off back towards the living room, idly thinking about what movie she was going to demand they put on when this torture was over.

‘NO U’.

***

my masterlist • please let me know what you think of wlw!cake and if you would like to see more of them here!

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zankivich · 4 years

Text

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 11

a/n: Hi. so I stopped posting these because no one ever reads them and barely anyone reads the fic anymore but this is literally my favorite chapter of this whole damn thing. So please be gentle with her. She’s wonderful in my opinion. k bye.

WARNINGS: sex without a condom, accidental insemination (i know that’s not sexy but i didn't feel comfortable using the cp word tbh). Also just so much fluff and so much love. major development of feelings here.

*Shawn’s point of view*

“y/n where are you taking me?”

“Did you wear the shirt?” She asked instead. “The red one?”

He peered down at his shirt that she insisted he wear for the occasion, three buttons undone instead of two just like she said.

“Yes I’m wearing the shirt, but I don’t--”

“Perfect! I’ll be down in just a second. Make sure you’re in the passenger seat.”

His girlfriend was weird. Incredible and mind bendingly smart and gorgeous. But weird.

And yet, by the time she finally appeared out of her apartment there he was, following her every direction. He remembers she wore this really pretty flowy dress that billowed around her ankles because it was getting chilly in New York and he wondered if maybe she might want his denim jacket from the backseat. She slid into his car and immediately kissed him like she hadn’t seen him in days. They hadn’t been able to spend the night together for the past few weeks due to busy schedules, and so Saturday was supposed to be date night. And he was all ready to take his girlfriend on a magical evening with a reservation at KO, this amazing Asian restaurant that was impossible to get into and well over 200 dollars for the tasting menu. Instead, she had told him to put on a very specific outfit and grab his guitar, because she was in charge for the night. And besides the bedroom, y/n was always in charge. Always.

“You and your wild, taffy legs. How is anyone supposed to reach the pedals in this thing?” She grumbled flailing around in the driver’s seat.

He rolled his eyes playfully and reached over to flick the switch that would push her seat up.

“Sweetheart, this is the Tesla. Please be gentle.”

She clicked her seatbelt on and adjusted her mirror before spinning out smoothly into the street.

“Boy I know what the hell I’m doing. You just sit there and let mama handle things okay?” She snorted.

“Just as long as mama doesn’t total my hundred sixty thousand dollar car, she can handle whatever she’d like.”

“What could this vehicle possibly do that’s worth that much money. It’s still wheels and a seat, sis.” She giggled to herself at her own joke. “Besides, I could total this car and you’d still love me in the morning. Not that I would! I’m a good driver, dammit.”

It took one look at her with her tongue just barely passed her lips in concentration as she navigated city traffic to confirm her statement.

“Yea...You’ve got me there.” He sighed.

His confusion was once again peaked as y/n headed away from the city instead of deeper into it. Any idea for what she might have had planned went straight out the window. It didn’t help that she simply continued to listen to one of his playlists he made her, bopping her adorable head to the music and ignoring him as he stared helplessly in his seat.

“Baby...You’ve got to give me something here. I might start to think you’re taking me out to the woods to kill me.” He whined.

She rolled her eyes. “Like I have the time or the patience to drag your big ass through the woods. Men. So impatient. Can’t you just enjoy the ride?”

“I might enjoy it a little more, if I knew where we were going.”

“You shall see in...twenty-two minutes.” She explained peering at the gps on her phone.

“You know the car comes with a GPS too.”

“Ah hah! That explains the price tag huh?”

He decided it best he stay quiet less his girlfriend only continued to make fun of him more.

Needless to say he’s a little confused when they pull up to what looks like nothing more than a little pub. His car was probably more expensive than the building, and he couldn’t help but remember that he’d gotten them a reservation at a place that had been booked solid for the last three months.

“Y/n...what the hell?” He asked quietly. “Where are we?”

“We are at Lenny’s Tavern.” She smiled pointing to the big sign outside the building.

“Yes, I can see that. Why are we at Lenny’s Tavern?”

She leaned back in her seat and stared at him with her big gentle eyes. It was always her way of getting him to calm down. Because when she was calm, it was nearly impossible for him not to be.

“We’re here so that you can play your music.”

….

So much for being calm.

“What?! W--What? No. No way. Y/n I can’t. I can’t play anything that my dad owns. You know that. I told you that!”

“You can’t seek monetary gain for any performance without his sign off. That’s correct. But this is an open mic night. And technically your father has rights to anything officially recorded in a studio or otherwise. This is what bars you from releasing, let’s say a single on soundcloud or spotify for example. However, a live performance? A random ten minute set? That’s fair game.” She explained.

“How could you know that? How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I read your contract. Line for line. And it’s tight. It’s tight and it’s shitty and I can’t imagine what an awful human being your dad has to be to get you to sign it, but there was wiggle room. So...let’s wiggle.”

He was dumbfounded. His heart was hammering in his chest and he just kept peering at the tiny pub in front of them and then back to her and then back to the pub. He hadn’t sung in front of a crowd since high school. He wasn’t prepared, every single song absolutely escaping his mind. And here she was just as calm as a cucumber.

“How did you find my contract?” He asked.

“You’re not the only one who has their ways, Shawn.”

She undid her seatbelt and turned in the seat to face him. She reached for his hands, which were most definitely shaking, and squeezed hard enough at them that he could no longer tell. His breathing was uneven as the panic set in. Most of it was his dad. And what he might do, and all of the things that he could do. But, some of it was just the fear of failing. He’d spent years convincing himself that his dad was the reason he never got his shot, the reason he never made it big. But there was always a tiny voice in the back of his head that was convinced it might just be him. Maybe he was just wasn’t good enough. Maybe he never would be.

“Hey, look at me.”

His eyes flickered up to her face as he worked to steady his breathing.

“You’ve got a gift. A gift that makes you happy and a gift that has the ability to make others happy. Not everyone has that. People spend their whole lives chasing shit like that. You love music. I know you do; I can feel it in every muscle of your being. I’m not asking you to fight your dad, and I’m not asking you to do anything I don’t already know you can do. I’m just asking you to sing because you love it okay? And I know for a fact that you can do that.”

She kept one hand of his in her lap and reached to touch his face with her other. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t lean into her touch with his whole head and his whole heart and maybe the rest of him too.

“I’m gonna be there the whole time. Just focus on me.” She whispered. “And have fun. Can you do that?”

He took a deep breath and kissed at her palm.

“I--I don’t know. Maybe? What if I fuck it up? What if it hurts?”

“Then we go home and we laugh about it. You’re never gonna see any of these people again. This is literally just for you. No one else.”

“Fuck. Okay. Okay, I’ll try.”

She grinned. “Yea?”

“Yea. But if I fall I need you to pick me up, alright?”

“Darling that’s all that I’m here for.”

They get out of the car, his guitar case firm in his hand, as she pulls him forward by his other one. He makes her double lock the Tesla just in case. Who knew where the hell they were at.

Inside the pub isn’t exactly the Irish biker crowd. It looks more like a college town bar. There were mostly younger people, early twenties to thirties, all standing around drinking and having a good night. All of the lights were off except for at the bar, and the stage at the front of the pub. There was already somewhere up there. A woman with a really beautiful soprano timbre. Some were sat around the stage at tables drinking and enjoying the music. It was maybe a hundred people total in the whole space, but certainly more than he’d ever sang in front of before.

He was still looking around trying to get a feel for the space when her hand squeezed at his again to get his attention.

“Oh, I almost may have invited a friend.”

He turned to see Niall with a beer in his hand talking loudly to what must have been another friend at a table. The second he spotted Shawn though, he was downing his drink and heading straight for them.

“Shawnie Boy!” He cheered wrapping his arms around him quickly. “It’s about time you got here man, the crowd’s all warmed up for ya.”

“I--I’m sorry?”

“Oh this lovely woman instagram dm’d me that you were finally gonna put that voice of yer’s on display for all to see, asked if I’d be a friendly face in the crowd. But, this is the place I got discovered at man. I thought it might bring some good luck to you! You’re gonna kill it.”

Niall clapped him on the shoulder and then turned to y/n to pull her in for a hug as well. It wasn’t difficult to see what his dad had seen in Niall. Besides the Irish accent, and the blue eyes, and the voice, Niall was a force of nature. He was charismatic and kind and sort of all over the place. He certainly made Shawn feel calmer as well. Niall was the first person he shared music with in a long time besides Brian. Perhaps if he believed in him, there was something worth believing in.

Niall, y/n, and a few of Niall’s friends that he remembered from various studio sessions crowded around the table closest to the stage. There was a guy by the soundboard, keeping track of the acts who were going. He went to put his name on the list, and only kind of hoped that the guy might tell him the list was full.

“Name?” He asked.

“Uh, Shawn Mendes?”

“Ah you’re already on the list. You can go next. You get two songs. There’s a mic on stage that should pick up the guitar. Is it an acoustic?”

“Yea.”

“Well perfect man. Good luck out there.”

“Yea, okay. Thanks.”

He got his guitar out of the case and slipped the strap over his shoulder. She was perfectly in tune and felt like air beneath his fingertips. The guitar had taught him confidence. He felt comfortable with it on, like it was his best piece of clothing. All the nerves and stress sort of took a back seat when he was playing, even there to the side of the stage while he waited for the last person to finish up. He just genuinely loved playing. Like more than anything in the world.

“Alright. Next up is a newbie. Give it up for Shawn Mendes everybody!”

He hears y/n above all else as she claps and cheers and let’s everyone around know that’s her man up there. It makes him laugh which makes him breathe. It’s good. She’s perfect.

He takes a seat on the stool in front of the mic, fingers still strumming absentmindedly as he settles on what to play. The tension is still in his shoulders a little bit. He’s still absolutely terrified. But it’s her who asked him to do it. So, he will.

“Hello. I haven’t really played in front of people since I was fifteen so this could go bad, but hopefully it doesn’t. Um this song is for my girlfriend who I’ve been writing songs about far longer than she’s been my girlfriend. I hope you like it.”

He plays When You’re Ready because it feels right. He wrote it after their first few nights together, far before he was ever ready to admit just how into her he was. He lied to himself and said that he was just using their experience to write a song, that it wasn’t necessarily about her. But, who was he fooling? Sometimes he thought he might write about her for the rest of his life.

Don't know why I try 'cause ain't nobody like you

Familiar disappointment every single time I do

And every single night my arms are not around you

My mind's still wrapped around you

He catches her eyes in the crowd and it’s like they’re back in his apartment sitting on the floor with pillows and candles while he plays. It’s no longer scary or frightening or overwhelming. It’s just them. And he gets this feeling in the middle of the song that he’d sing forever if it meant he got to tell the world how he felt about her. She made him feel everything and anything ten times over. And he was just starting to hit the surface of what that could actually mean for him.

And if I have to, I'll wait forever

Say the word and I'll change my plans

Yeah, you know that we fit together

I know your heart like the back of my hand

It dawns on him that other people are nodding along about halfway through the song. Niall was nodding, but that was Niall. There were people at the back of the bar who turned his way to listen and pay attention. He’s got a crowd staring back at him and they don’t even hate him. It’s the wildest thing in the world.

Even ten years from now, if you haven't found somebody

I promise I'll be around

Tell me when you're ready

I'm waitin', I'm waitin'

His thumb hits the last chord and he’s not prepared for the applause that bursts out. He has to look to y/n to see how she’s making it sound like so many people are clapping, but it’s not her. It’s the bar. It’s everyone. And it’s the wildest thing he’s ever experienced in his whole life.

For a second he just stands there dumbfounded staring at them all. Were they sure? Did they really like it? Music was the most humbling of things, because money couldn’t make you not sound like shit. Either you had it, and you worked for it, or you didn’t. The guy from the sound booth had to give him the reminder to play his other song, or surely he would have just stared at them all night.

“Shit. Uh thanks. That was wild. Okay. Um, this next one is called Lights On. Hope you like it.”

Y/n had never heard it. And rightfully so. It was his least vulgar way of reminding himself of the way that she made him feel from that night that he finally met her. The way that her dress had melded to every curve. The length of her spine when she was trying to stand as tall as humanly possible above everyone else. The way that her thighs had felt around his head. It’s everything that the song reminded him off without stating it explicitly, and he can tell by the heat in her eyes that he’s conjuring up similar images for her.

He’s so focused on her that he doesn’t notice that the entire bar had begun to clap to the beat of the song, or that by the time he gets to the second chorus people are singing along. He’s got the whole bar transfixed on him and it should feed his ego more than anything. (Make no mistake it still kind of does) But it’s harder to focus on that when the woman he loves is looking at him like she wants to devour him and maybe hold him too. It’s certainly a complex array of emotions and all that he’s left to do is beam at this crowd of maybe a hundred people for making his little dream come true. But still mostly her.

He walked off the stage to a whole bunch of applause that made him feel like his skin was buzzing. He wanted to run a mile or six. He wanted to go dance in the rain, or scream on the top of a building. Anything that would expel this energy out of him. It all felt too great. Too beautiful. In a way he was more fucked than ever, because he knew right there in that moment that performing was the only thing he was ever gonna want to do.

“Hey man that was a kickass set!” The sound guy from earlier exclaimed. “I’m Ronnie. I run the pub. You’re Shawn right?”

He nodded. “Thanks man. It was really a dream come true for me.”

“Yea? Well if you ever wanna come back and keep doing it more of it, you let me know okay? Take my card.”

The guy hands him his card and claps him on the back before going to announce the next act. He peered aimlessly down at the piece of paper feeling a big overwhelmed. Did this mean he could do it again? That he was allowed to keep performing? The thought had literally never even occurred to him.

He floats back to table where y/n and Niall were already clapping and screaming for him. He gets claps on the shoulder from random people as he passes through. It’s like the greatest night of his life or something.

And then she’s there. And he knows that he loves her because he drops his guitar case against the table to pick her up in his arms. He knows that he loves her because he has to hide his face in her neck because he thinks for a second that he might cry, he’s so goddamn happy. And he knows that he loves her because it’s all her. She gave him the moment and the feeling and the love. It’s her.

“I--I can’t believe you did that for me.” He mumbled fingers knotting in her dress.

She kissed his forehead and pulled him closer.

“That is the happiest I’ve ever seen you. And I’d do it a million times over, you hear me?”

He nodded breathlessly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He goes to kiss her only for her to wrap her fingers around the base of his skull and pull him in for the kiss of his life. Her teeth are punishing and her tongue is a dangerous heaven in his mouth. He very nearly lifts her up off the floor like they’re at home instead of in public, and he has a feeling that was her goal exactly.

“Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes. Don’t think I forgot about that little song of yours.” She whispered.

And then she detangled herself from him and walked off like a dream and a sin all at once. Christ was he lucky. Needless to say he very quickly ditched his guitar with Niall and ran off to find his girlfriend in this dingey ass bar. The shit this woman could convince him to do.

He found her in a single stall family bathroom, which was honestly much cleaner than he expected, and the fact that they can’t keep their hands off each other tells him he needs to write more songs. And fast.

She jumped up in his arms and started sucking on his neck in that way of hers that always turned him to goo. He was lost in her immediately.

“Are we gonna have sex in this bathroom right now?” He mumbled already letting his hands wander beneath her dress.

“That depends. Do you have a condom?”

This gives him great pause. He pulled back to stare at his girlfriend in confusion.

“A condom? N--No. What am I fourteen?”

Her eyes widened. “What does that even mean? Also what the fuck were you doing at fourteen to be walking around with condoms?”

“Well it’s just that...you have the IUD. And guys only carry condoms around with them in the hopes that they’ll get lucky. I’m a sure thing kind of guy. Plus, my dad gave me my first one when I was eleven.” He shrugged.

She leaned back in his arms to stare at the ceiling.

“Jesus Christ. He’s literally the devil. Had your balls even dropped yet? Oh my god!”

“Can we not talk about my prepubescent balls please? It’s really ruining the mood.” He whined. “Can’t we just...you know?”

She raised an eyebrow at him so sharp he nearly got cut.

“Can we just what? If you think I’m walking around for the rest of the night with your nasty ass jizz between my legs, you’ve got another thing coming. Also we simply have to work on your sexual health competency because that was the dumbest shit you’ve ever said to me.”

“I think we can get creative with where we put it y/n! I just think that the more we sit here talking about, the less sexy it becomes!”

“Excuse me?! Communication is the sexiest thing in the world. Sex without communication is awful and probably predatory.”

She paused and peered down at him from where he was holding her up against his waist again. She tilted her head as if to make a decision of whether or not he was worth fucking in that moment, which like….huge ego crush by the way.

“Ah fuck it come here.”

And then she started kissing him again, so he quickly forgot about all of that.

He turned to slam her against the wall, fingers searching for the edge of her underwear beneath the skirt of her dress. She moaned in his ear and bit at his shoulder, his hips grinding more and more desperately against her’s.

“You think you can hold me up long enough to make me cum?” She whimpered.

“‘Course I can. Now be a good girl and open wide for me.”

He sticks his fingers in her mouth until they’re wet enough to rub her clit. The denim of his jeans is rough against her skin but he can’t get enough of the way she moans when he rubs against her. Let no one ever underestimate how hot they could get for each other with literally no time at all. She gets wet for him on command and her thighs tremble when rubs her the way that she needs. It’s perfect. Her body sings for him in octaves that make his heart race and his dick hard and his heart warm. She’s sort of everything to him in these moments.

“Remind me to get some restraints that hold you up against the wall. This is really doing it for me.” He mumbled.

“Yea, yea. Less talking more humping.”

At least she wasn’t impatient at all.

As far as sex goes, it’s really good. There’s something about the sound of the bar right outside the door, knowing that there were still people surrounding them on all sides. Something about the way she can’t keep quiet, so he can’t keep quiet either. Something about the way she tastes, the way she always tastes.

“Fuck,” He panted pushing her thighs back against the wall as he paused to rest inside of her. “Fuck, y/n.”

Her head rested against the wall, her lips parted and panting. She looked so fucking good it hurt to look at her. He bit his lip and doubled down against the wall using his hips to drive harder into her in the hopes that the way her hips were held in his hands might get her where she needed to go. When her fingers grip so tight at the back of his head that he winces, he figures he might have done it right.

“Oh my GOD!”

Her legs trembled in his hands and he tilted his hips to push more ruggedly against her. Her hands slapped at the wall in desperation as she reached aimlessly for anything and nothing. She hit the paper towel dispenser with a sharp clang and cried out for him like a symphony as she clenched at him for all he was worth it.

“I’m cumming.” She whined. “Baby, I’m cumming!”

It’s the greatest pleasure in the world. He presses his hand against the wall beside her head, his other arm just barely holding her up and practically falls into her. He couldn’t hold back his own orgasm if you’d paid him. If she whined for him, he sobbed for her. Fell apart for her. Loved her and held her and came for her with everything in him the way that only she could make him do. Only her.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled wetly, kissing at her shoulder. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Shit, it’s okay.”

He lets her down onto shaky legs, both of them worse for ware. She made her way to the toilet to clean up, while he tried to regain function in his brain. Less than ten minutes later they were back at the bar as if nothing had happened. Though the look Niall gave him when he finally got his guitar back told him that maybe they hadn’t been quite as subtle as they could be. He didn’t care though. It was probably the best night of his life.

It’s later, back at his apartment when the lights are off except for the glow of his closet, when her head fits perfectly on his chest that the weight of it hits him. What she was willing to do for him to make him happy, for him to succeed. She was so good to him.

They got closer and deeper into this thing every day. He fell a little harder every time that he caught her smiling or laughing or even just being. The thought that she might return the sentiment was almost too much for his heart to bare.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” He whispered his fingers tracing shaping on her back. “I never would have done that if you hadn’t pushed me.”

She kissed his chest and snuggled closer.

“I’m happy to. You deserve it ya know? I know you think sometimes things are just the way they are but…it doesn’t have to be. I know that from experience.”

“I know. Or at least I’m starting to. You’re very convincing.” He snorted.

“Stick with me sweetheart, I’ll get us places.”

He didn’t doubt her for a second.

***

*y/n’s point of view*

You were trying to see if it was possible to get Shawn to forget about harry potter based off the sheer power of cleavage alone. It was proving to be incredibly difficult because you couldn’t get him to turn his head away from the movie long enough to see that your tits were on full display. Here you were thinking you were dating some suave, feeling himself, type playboy when in reality he was an actual dork hiding in a hot man’s body. The audacity.

“Shawn.” You murmured squeezing your arms together to push your cleavage up again.

“Not now babe, Snape is about to rip Harry and Ron a new one. I love this part.”

You rolled your eyes and collapsed against the sheets giving in to the magic that this franchize seemed to have over your boyfriend. What a shit show.

When his phone starts to ring, Shawn makes a face like someone just shot bamby right in front of him. The ridiculousness of it all was not in fact lost on you.

“Hello?” He sighed pausing the movie. “Oh...Hi.”

You peered over at him in interested as he threw his legs over the side of the bed to face away from you.

“No. No I haven’t been ignoring you I’ve just been a bit busy with work and what not. Yes, I know you’re out there all alone. No I--I don’t hate you. Yes…. Yes. Okay, but I can’t really just fly out to….Okay. Yes, love you too. Bye.”

“Well if that was your sidepiece or something can you at least ask her to respect Harry Potter time? I mean that just seems rude.” You snorted.

“It wasn’t a side piece.” He mumbled falling back into bed. “It was my mother.”

He pressed play on the movie again but his eyes and his mind were somewhere else. This was the first time his mom had ever been brought up besides casual conversation. And if the tension in the room was anything to go off, there was a reason for that.

“I thought...I thought you and your mom got along really well.” You asked softly.

“We do. I love her more than anything. It’s just...tough. She’s a little angry at me at the moment.”

You were far more willing to decipher your boyfriend’s traumatic experience than watch Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azaban for the fifth time that month. So, you paused the movie and let him nestle his face in the cleavage he should have been in all along.

“How come?” You asked, fingers gliding through his curls.

“She blames me for staying in California with my dad instead of moving back to Canada with her.”

“Oh. I’m sorry I didn’t realize your parents were divorced.”

He rolled his eyes. “They’re not. That would cause too much publicity. But, my mum got tired of him fucking every secretary that he hires and being a verbally and emotionally abusive piece of shit. He pays for her to stay in Canada so that she doesn’t blast his shit to the whole world. It’s really more of a business transaction.”

You peered down where his head lied on your chest and you wondered if he could feel your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

“Jesus, Shawn.”

“Yea. I know. Trust me, I know.”

“Honestly the fact that you’ve come out half way as normal as you are is a true testament to yourself. I think you should probably be far more fucked up than you are.”

“I probably am. You just haven’t gotten a chance to see it yet.”

“We’ve known each other for clear over a year at this point, boy. I think I would’ve noticed.”

You ran your hands down his neck and over his shoulders where the muscles were tense and the stress seemed to be knotting in him by the second.

“She wants me to come home.” He admitted softly.

“Is that--that something that would be hard for you?”

“What watching her waste away in some mansion in Toronto under my dad’s thumb just like me? What son doesn’t wanna watch his mum be miserable? I’m never gonna be able to fix it. Things are always gonna be like this.”

“Yea, but they don’t have to be.”

He leaned his head up just slightly enough for eye contact. His cheeks were rosey and his eyes were hooded and sad. He looked sort of like he needed a nap. God he was cute.

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean that...You could go home and be with your mom and it might take away some of her burden. It sounds like she loves you a lot, like she just wants to see her son. You don’t have to change the world to make a difference ya know?” You hummed.

Shawn sighed and just sort of collapsed on your chest all grumpy again. He was a little bit like a cat in those moments. A very large, very long, heavy ass cat.

“Fine,” he eventually grumbled. “What are you doing next weekend?”

“Hmm...Nothing that I can think of. Why?”

“I guess we’re going to Canada.”

That just simply was not what you meant.

***

“I really need you to stop fidgeting. You’re making me fidget!”

You rolled your eyes but settled a little firmer in your seat. You messed around with the bracelet on your wrist instead before reaching for your necklace to mess with that. The car pulled to a stop and your heart lurched into your throat again. Shit.

“Sweetheart,” Shawn sighed reaching for your hand to play with your fingers. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. My mum is the sweetest human being you’ll ever meet.”

“Of course she is. Everyone is sweet and dandy until the white boy brings a black girl home.” You mumbled still peering anxiously out the window.

“Y/n. Y/n look at me.”

You tilted your head slightly in his direction only for him to tug your chin so that you were facing each other head on.

“I know for a fact she’s going to be obsessed with you. But, if she wasn’t? If for even a second she wasn’t as impressed with you as everyone on this planet should be? We’d fly out today, okay? I don’t need anyone’s approval to tell me whether or not I should love you. Do you understand?”

You hated when he made sense. You were supposed to be the rational one afterall. Plus he looked a lot cuter when he did it.

Your head dipped down a little bit to stare at the console in the middle of the car, but he only tugged your chin up again for you. It was almost like if you couldn’t keep your head high he was hellbent on doing it for you.

“Trust me, please?” He whispered. “Just trust me.”

“Okay.” You sighed pressing your forehead against his. “Just don’t let me go okay?”

“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He got out of the car and came to open your door, his finger quickly latching with yours. It turns out that you’d been so in your head over the thought of meeting his mother, against your will you might add, that it had never occurred to you to get freaked out over the size of the house. If you could even call it a house. The place was big enough to have it’s own fucking zipcode. It was a pristine, white mansion with a six car garage that looked like it could be its own house. You’d seen places of the sort for parties and what not in LA, but you’d never actually seen someone really, truly live in one. It reminded you endlessly of the difference in the lives that you and Shawn had. Sure, you might be in the same industry now, but your upbringings? Your childhoods? They could not have been more different.

Shawn led you slowly up to the house where he rang the doorbell that seemed to echo throughout the home. Your hand tightened around his, and so he tightened his own in response. He turned to kiss your temple and nuzzle his nose into your hair as an attempt to soothe you. It was just beginning to work when the door opened.

“My baby!”

She was a tiny woman. At least in comparison to Shawn. But you couldn’t tell by the way that she wrapped him up in her arms and kissed him as if he was a small child. And apparently he was. In her eyes, anyway. The more shocking thing was the way that he fell into her arms. He held her just as tightly as she held him. He kissed her cheek and he rocked back and forth with her. It was just about the sweetest shit you’d ever seen in your life.

“I missed you mum.” He sighed rubbing her back.

“I missed you too.”

You watched in awe as a kind of softness to your boyfriend revealed itself in a way you’d never quite seen before. Sure, he was affectionate with you. But clearly Shawn and his father weren’t running around professing their love for each other. This was a new side to him entirely.

Shawn stepped back out of his mother’s arms and reached for your hand to hold tightly just as before. He pressed his lips to the back of your hand and turned to you.

“There’s uh--there’s someone I want you to meet actually. This is y/n, my girlfriend. Y/n this is my mum.” He introduced.

Her eyes widened and you’d be lying if you didn’t say you were prepared for the worst. The moment she throws her arms around the both of you, you enter a moment of complete and utter shock.

“Oh my god! Shawn, oh my god. She’s beautiful!”

She reached for your hand and squeezed it warmly like you were old friends instead of people who were meeting for the first time.

“Mrs. Mendes, it’s so nice to meet you.” You smiled sheepishly.

“Oh, please, please call me Karen. Shawn has never brought someone home before, so excuse me if I’m a little excited. Please, come in!”

She tugged you forward into the house and quickly began to give you a tour. You looked back at Shawn with a questioning gaze at her comment. His cheeks were red and rosy, a clear give away, but he said nothing.

It really was an impressive home. You got the sense that she took pride in it, even if it felt sort of like a prison. At least she was here back home and away from all the craziness. She could lead whatever life she wanted in this place. And she seemed to have peace with that. It was a much more worthy narrative than some sad housewife locked away in a tower. She was strong. You could tell. And you liked that.

“I’ll leave you both to freshen up and unpack. I’m gonna finish up dinner. I made a roast.” She grinned at Shawn.

“My mum makes the best roast you’ve ever had in your life.” He assured you. “Hands down.”

“Wow. Well could you use any help, Mrs. Mendes? I’d hate to be a bother when you weren’t expecting me.”

Polite girlfriend shtick. You had that shit down. Shawn rolling his eyes and poking you in the shoulder was nothing but a slight hindrance on your performance.

“Honey, call me Karen. And I wouldn’t dream of making you help. There’s plenty to go around. Dinner should be ready in twenty minutes okay?”

She left with a pep in her step and a smile on her face, closing the door behind her. Shawn waited till the door was closed to tackle you down to the bed until he was lying flat on top of you like the giant he was.

“‘I’d hate to be a bother!” He exclaimed in a ridiculous english accent.

You quickly pinched his side and took solace in the pain on his face.

“Not funny dickhead. I was trying to make a good impression. You’d be wise to grovel when you meet my mother.” You snorted.

“Grovel? Mothers love me, y/n.”

“White mothers love you, honey. Black mothers will be skeptical of you at all costs. Who knows all the secrets you might be hiding in your hair alone.”

He nuzzled his head into your neck and placed a kiss against your collarbone.

“We’ll see about that. I hear I can be pretty persuasive. I got you didn’t I?” He hummed.

You bit your lip as his tongue traced your skin. He got you alright.

“I suppose stranger things have happened.” You chuckled.

“Is that...Is that something you might want sometime?”

“Might want what?” You asked running your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.

“For me to...you know? Maybe meet your family. You seem a lot closer to them than I am to mine.”

You went quiet for a while. And it really wasn’t out of fear. You were just trying to imagine Shawn in your world. A small town in Georgia that kept its roots close and visible. The chicken places. The small, tiny two bedroom homes that built neighborhoods of children like you. Some who went to school and some who never made it “out”, whatever that meant. It was different. Home for you was a place of nostalgia and a place of comfort, but it also represented something outside of yourself. The industry could often make you feel like you had succeeded because you were here and not there. No matter how much you loved it, home was complicated. To take Shawn there would mean something far deeper than anything else you’d done thus far in truly any of your relationships. It would mean showing him a part of you that no one knew, except for Tiana. No one.

He leaned up far enough to peer down into your eyes. His thumb traced the apple of your cheek and it made your whole body shiver.

“We don’t have to. It’s not a big deal. Just wanted to ask. I would never rush you.”

You nodded. “It’s not that--it’s not that I don’t want to. I’m just a little afraid of what it might mean.”

“Of us getting more serious?”

“Not that. More so, of you seeing who I am and what I come from. What if...what if you don’t like it?” You asked. “It’s so different Shawn. We don’t have any of this where I come from.”

“That doesn’t matter to me.” He said quietly. “You know that right? That I would never ever judge you for where you come from?”

You closed your eyes and worked to steady your breathing. You didn’t quite know how to explain it to him, but you wanted to so badly.

“It’s not that. I don’t think you would be judgemental I just think you would be...confused. I don’t know like maybe we’re so different that it might be too hard to find how we fit together.”

Your eyes opened to him cupping your cheek again. His eyes were gentle and calm and loving. The way that they always tended to be. You weren’t sure how he managed that.

“We already fit together, y/n. We fit better together than anyone I’ve ever met before. I’m not interested in anything or anyone else. I just want you.”

“Are you sure?” You mumbled fingers tightening anxiously in his shirt.

“I have never been more sure of anything in my whole entire life.” He breathed.

When he kissed you it felt like relief and tenderness and care. You still couldn’t quite believe that this man of all men wanted to be all in with you. But, it felt so incredibly good. And you thought that maybe you wanted to be all in too.

***

“You have got to be kidding!”

“I swear to God! Showed his little peepee to the entire pool, with not an ounce of shame to be had!”

“Mum!” Shawn begged. “Please, please tell literally any other story in the history of ever! She doesn’t want to hear this.”

“Well now I beg to differ. How many people were at this pool, Karen?” You snickered.

He pinched quickly at your side, just hard enough for you to yelp, and rub at the bruised skin. Asshole.

“Rude.” You muttered in his direction.

“Yes, how rude of me to not want to be re-traumatized in front of my girlfriend. I’m going to get more wine, can I get anyone anything? No? Good.”

With Shawn in the kitchen, it was the first time that you and Karen were left to your own devices. You had quickly learned that the bubbly nature and infectious attitude of Shawn was all his mother. She was funny and sweet and insistent that everyone around her feel as good as possible.

“The roast really is incredible, Karen. I’d love to have the recipe sometime if you’re open to it. I’m working on expanding his palette beyond take out.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, I’d be happy to. Every year he comes home, that boy gets a little skinnier. I worry about him in New York and LA with all those toxic people about. It’s so nice to know he’s getting home cooked meals every now and again.”

“Yea, well I’m a girlfriend not a maid. It’s nice to see him cook and figure things out for himself. He’s becoming a great sou chef.” You chuckled.

“You’ve got him to cook, aye? What else is he up to over there?”

“He actually just did his first open mic night just last week. It went incredibly well. I’m really proud of him for stepping out of his comfort zone and taking a little leap for himself.”

“An open mic?” She paused. “For what? Like for poetry, or spoken word?”

You shook your head. “No. He--He sang. And played guitar.”

At first you were worried that she somehow didn’t know Shawn was into music, and that you’d blown a secret of some kind. Karen peered back towards the kitchen before leaning over the table to reach for your hand. It was the most serious she’d been since the two of you arrive. Though her eyes were still kind, they were also incredibly still.

“Shawn got up in front of people and performed? You got him to do that?”

“I don’t know. I organized it, and I gave him a little pep-talk but it was all on him to get up there and actually do it. Why? Did I do something wrong?”

She stared at you for a second, hers fingers gripping lightly at your arm.

“You have no idea what you’ve done for him have you?” She whispered to herself. “Shawn hasn’t gotten on a stage since high school.”

You nodded. “No, I know. Because Manny signed him and he was afraid to break his contract.”

“No, you don’t understand. Shawn wasn’t afraid of breaking his contract. He found that performing was too painful. He didn’t like getting a taste of his dream, if it meant he was never going to have the real thing. If he got up on a stage and performed, he might have done it because of his love for music, but make no mistake darling. He also got up there out of love for you.”

You didn’t even know where to begin with that. It completely resituated that night and that experience differently in your mind. He hadn’t just been afraid of failing. He’d been afraid of doing well. Because if he did well, all that meant was that he never got to progress. He never got to do better. Suddenly you were reminded of that night on the Ariana tour where he told you he was stuck, that he would always be stuck. In your quest to make him happy, you’d missed a large piece of the puzzle, and you were a tiny bit afraid that you pushed him to do something that did more harm than good.

There’s no time to discuss the matter further before Shawn stepped quickly back into the room. He wrapped his arm around the back of your chair and launched into a story about the time Karen took him to see the Maple Leafs play when his dad was too busy to do it. The level of excitement that he had for her and for that small moment of his childhood was enough to hook you to the story. The rest could wait for now.

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

“I’m gonna go to bed a little early.” She yawned. “I think the flight wiped me out a bit.”

He nodded rubbing circles as soothingly into her back as he could.

“Okay. You want me to follow you up? We could run a bath or something.”

She smiled and squeezed at his hand on her back before tugging it softly off her skin.

“No. I want you to go spend time with your mother. That’s why we came here, remember?”

He pouted slightly. “Is there a rule that says I can’t spend time with my mum and take a bath with my girlfriend? Not at the same time, obviously.”

“Not a rule. Think of it more as a delegation. I am giving you the task to go spend time with your mom. Me and a bubble bath are never far away. Trust.” She grinned. “Now good night.”

She’d made up her mind clearly. There was no changing it. He learned that more and more about her by the day.

“Good night Karen!” She called as she headed up the staircase.

“Oh goodnight, darling!”

He spent a few seconds watching the way her ass move as she walked. A bubble bath sounded better than good in that moment.

He returned to the kitchen to help his mum clear and wash the dishes. In all of the grandiose design of the estate; the garages, the garden, the pond, the chandeliers on every floor, his mum always refused to have a dishwasher. She said she liked the monotony of washing them herself. It was her favorite chore when she was a child. He may not have exactly shared the sentiment, but it was without a doubt a memorable moment of his childhood. She stopped letting him wash, when she decided he couldn’t scrub to her level of satisfaction, but always let him rinse and dry. When he joined her in the kitchen she tossed him a drying towel over his shoulder with a smile. They settled into work alongside each other just like old times.

“Thank you for coming to visit me.” She said to him, softly. “I know how busy you are in New York. And I don’t mean to be a bother I just...I miss you. I hope you know that.”

“I know. I do, I promise. I miss you too. I wish that I---I just need to visit you more out here. There’s no excuse. It’s just hard with everything with dad, and trying to get through work now. It’s been hard finding my stride as a man I guess. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing. I just know I don’t wanna be like him.” He mumbled.

“Oh sweetheart, you’ve never been like your father. Not even when you try to be.”

He rolled his eyes playfully at her and took the plate that she handed him to run under the hot water.

“Sometimes I see some of him in the things I do though. The cockiness. The entitlement to everything around me. That’s him mum. That’s all him.”

She ran her sponge over a pesky stain of dried mashed potato and hummed in thought.

“So much of that is my fault too. I never fought your father as hard as I should have. He wanted you to have everything, just so he could say that you did. And I tried to balance that, tried to give you a normal life, but I lost. I wanted to keep you here until you turned eighteen, and we both know how that went. Sure you can be a bit of an asshole, and so much of the world has already been offered to you because of who we are, who your dad is. But your heart is good. I’ve always known that about you. And that’s all that matters, baby.”

“Is it bad that...I didn’t really care how people perceived me until I met her? I was kind of happy with being more like dad. It meant that we fought less, that he was nicer to me, that being at the company was easier. I almost forgot what it was like to fight against that until she looked me in the eye and told me she wasn’t impressed with anything that I was.”

She laughed. Honest to god laughed.

“She’s a feisty one isn’t she?” She snorted. “Doesn’t take any of your shit, that one. I like that. I like her.”

He chuckled softly to himself. “You don’t know the half of it. She barely gave me the time of day the first three months I knew her. I tried to uh impress her once by showing up to her place with these...really stupidly expensive chocolate strawberries that were dusted in gold or something. But, I didn’t offer them to her as a gift. I just left them on the counter open for the world to see? She looked at me like I was a complete and total jackass.”

“My boy. You tried at least.” She giggled patting him playfully with a wet hand. “You really like her, aye?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. His heart literally jumped in his chest just at the words coming out of her mouth. He didn’t even know what to say.

“I’m like...stupidly, crazyily, overwhelmingly in love with her.” He mumbled, eyes on his fingers barely moving to dry the cup that was in his hand. “I think she might break my heart one day.”

“Hmmm. And what makes you think that?”

“It just doesn’t really make sense does it? For her to want me the way that I want her. I know what I see in her. I see everything. Everything that’s good in the world, and thensome. Me? I’m just some spoiled rich kid from toronto with daddy issues. There are gingerbread men with more uniqueness.” He sighed. “The crazy part is she thinks we might not fit together because of how we grew up, and I’m just terrified she’s gonna realize at some point that all of this is a joke. It’s me who doesn’t really deserve her.”

He felt more than heard the splash of his mum dropping whatever dish she’d been holding beneath the water. When he turned to her she had her serious eyes on. The ones she used to pull out to scold him when he was younger, or to get him to stop dicking around when he was too riled up. They were persuasive as all hell, and he stares deeply into them even now.

“You listen to me, Shawn Peter. I didn’t raise someone unworthy of anything in this life. I know your childhood wasn’t ideal but you’re a person just like any other person. And I raised you to believe that everyone deserves to love and to live and to be happy didn’t I?”

He smiled sadly. “Yea, mum. You did.”

“So then you get it too. Everyone gets it including you, do you understand me?”

She reached to touch his cheek, her palm wet and soapy, but he hadn’t felt so small in such a long time. He’d missed her.

“She’s lovely. She’s really special. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve her. That means you work every day to show her why you do. And hopefully, if you’re lucky, she shows you the same. That’s how it’s supposed to work. What the two of you have is special. So, don’t be afraid of it. Nurture it.”

He wrapped his hands gently around her wrists just to feel more connected to her. He nodded his head slowly to show her that he understood. When he did, she smiled and kissed at his forehead the way she used to when he was little. Any reservation he may have had about coming home was long gone now. And he couldn’t help but remember that it was once again y/n who had given him the push he needed to get here.

When the dishes were washed and his mum disappeared into her own room for the night, although not without leaving the hallway light on, he made his way back to her. It became incredibly evident that she hadn’t been sleepy at all when he caught her in bed answering work emails. She just wanted to give him alone time with her. And he was really glad that she did.

“Sleepy, aye?” He chuckled crawling into bed beside her.

She smiled as he nuzzled his face into her arm to distract her from typing.

“Is that all it takes to get the Canadian coming out of you? Just gotta get you back to the North star huh?”

“Funny. My mum said goodnight by the way. Guess she knew you weren’t so tired too.”

She hummed softly. “She’s really sweet. I see a lot of her in you now. You make a lot more sense to me now.”

“Yea? In what way?”

He reached for her laptop, shutting it softly, and setting it on the bedside table. He reached for her next, happy to feel the way she could mold into his arms so perfectly. She played with the rosary around his neck while she spoke, and it was as soothing for him as it was for her.

“All I knew of you back in New York was Manny. And, so I could never piece together the whole fuck boy persona with this, who you are to me now. The kindness and the softness and the warmth is so much of you; it’s all of you. Those two sides are just so different. I didn’t know if like emotional attachment was the key, which would be kind of fucked up in my opinion, or what it was. Like only respecting women if you’re interested in them is horrible, ya know? But now I know.”

She smiled smally to herself as if she had a secret that he wasn’t aware of.

“What do you know?”

She looked up into his eyes and it took his breath away.

“You’re not some dickhead, fuck boy. At least not really. You’ve been hurt a lot in your life by a lot of different people. And I think somewhere along the way you got the idea that being cold, being shut off from the world would just be easier. And I think I know who taught you that, and I’m really fucking sorry cause that’s such a miserable existence to have. I know from experience. But I like you. And it feels really good to know that this is who you are. This is who you’ve always been. A little fluffy Canadian.”

She reached up to tuck one of his curls back and he just had to kiss her, didn’t know if he could breathe for another second without it. She was too good to him in every way. And he was so incredibly in love with her. Kissing her felt right. It felt like the only way to express this thing that was just bubbling up inside of him always.

“I love you.” He whispered against her mouth. “I think you make me better than I ever was before.”

She shook her head at him. “Nah. I’m just here to show you what you almost forgot. You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

They lay there for a moment, with nothing but the feel of her skin against his and his heart beating in rhythm with hers. He felt the way that he tended to feel when he needed to write a song. A sort of energy was in him that felt like it might burst at any moment. His fingers were itching and he couldn’t really sit still. But instead of a song in his head and in his heart, all he had was her. And it was infinite.

“Are you tired?” He asked her.

“Not really why?”

“Get up. It’s my turn to take you to a random undisclosed location”

***

*y/n’s point of view*

You were shivering. Honest to god shivering. Your black ass was from Georgia and it did not like to be below 73 degrees at any one point. Shawn had taken you into the arctic as far as you were concerned. New York didn’t have shit on Canada. It was cold and your tits were chattering, and this boy was sitting here trying to be romantic or something.

“Shawn, I love you, but if you don’t tell me where we’re going my black ass is going back to the heated seats. I’ve grown soft. I don’t like this.” You whined.

Shawn laughed and paused to peel his jacket off. He then turned and wrapped it around you before pulling the hood to your sweatshirt over your head. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you through a little more grass until you reached your destination. A football field.

“This is it.” He pointed pulling you a little deeper into the field.

“Okay. And we’re here...because?”

He slid a backpack off of his shoulder and proceeded to pull out a large, thick quilt, which he laid out on the ground. Next were a few candles as it was dark as all hell out there. He turned to you with a soft smile on his face and reached for your hand to pull you close.

“This is uh where I would’ve went to high school if we hadn’t moved to the states. I used to go to games with Brian whenever my parents would let me fly back here. We would come here at night and fuck around and be stupid. I noticed one day that you can see the stars like really perfectly from here. And I always wished that we could have just stayed here and I could go to school like a normal kid. Maybe bring a really pretty girl out to the football field to look up at the stars ya know?” He smiled. “Guess I got my wish after all.”

Well wasn’t that just the sweetest shit you’d ever heard in your life?

You lied down on the quilt together, your heads pressed together, legs intertwined. The sky was so dark that it was overwhelming. It felt like it was falling in on all sides. But the stars were these beautiful little dots of light everywhere. It was wonderful. You’d never really been the type to lay down and look at them, but lying beside this man who had wanted to for who knows how long felt like the most amazing thing in the world. It was just you, him, and the stars. Nothing else. It felt incredible. You couldn’t have asked for more.

“It’s beautiful.” you told him. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

You turned your head to see him, but he was already looking at you with that smile of his that was soft and goofy and full of love. God, how you loved him too.

“Thank you for everything. All of it. Everything that we are. I really wanna make you happy, okay? As much as I can.”

You tightened your fingers in his sweater and pressed your face closer to his.

“You do. You already do.” You promised.

And he did.

*twenty minutes later*

“Can I ask you something?” You asked hiding your nose in the warmth of his neck so that cold air couldn’t get to it.

“Of course.”

“Why did you perform that night. At the pub? What made you get on stage?”

His arms tugged a loose part of the blanket he brought for the occasion back over your shoulder to hold you better.

“Part of it was that I missed it. Niall and I have been fucking around between his sessions, and I’ve been writing again in a way that I haven’t in years. It felt right to get it out of me, to push it all out again.” He explained.

You took a deep breath and played with one of the frayed edges of the blanket.

“What was the other part?” You asked.

“You asked me.”

Shit.

“That’s what I was afraid of.” You mumbled.

“What? Why?”

He dislodged you a bit from his chest and laid you down against the ground, his body hovering just slightly above yours. Your eyes had well adjusted to the dark by now and you could see him for everything that he was. His eyes were confused and soft. Always soft.

“I didn’t mean to push you for something you weren’t ready for. I just wanted to see you happy. And I’ve never seen you happier than when you’re playing music. But I never want you to feel the need to do something out of some sort of blind allegiance to me. I--I’m sorry.”

“Baby,” He breathed and touched your cheek in that way of his that he always did. “that’s ridiculous. I’m so happy that you pushed me to perform. I--I never would have done it if it weren’t for you. And it was one of the most incredible nights of my whole life. I don’t regret it, and you shouldn’t either.”

You peered up at him hesitantly, your nerves getting to you as always.

“You’re sure? You can tell me if I fucked it up.”

He smiled and ran his thumb over your cheek again before tapping at your forehead with his finger.

“You get inside your own head more than you like to let on, and sometimes you get stuck there.”

You paused as he called you out in that effortless way of his, never having felt so attacked in your thirty years.

“I need you to know that if you asked me to do something, I would probably do everything in my power to make it happen. And I need you to know that part of it will always be allegiance and love and wanting to do right by you. But the other part will always be that you’ve never let me down. And you always do everything with light and goodness in your heart. So even if it all fell apart that night, even if it all falls apart tomorrow, I wouldn’t regret a thing. Just let me love you, y/n, in the way that feels right for the both of us. And try not to worry about the rest of it okay?”

You reached for his face with your hands to touch and to feel all of the love that seemed to pour out of him with ease. But only for you. Somehow only for you.

“You say that like it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

“It could be. We just won’t know until we try.”

You nodded softly and tugged at him until his body covered your own.

“Guess we’ll just have to try extra hard then.”

“I guess we will.”

*thirty minutes later*

“Hey y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“You think I could live out another dream I always had?”

“Sure. Which one?”

Your boyfriend ran his palms beneath the fabric of your sweatshirt, the chill of his fingers causing goosebumps to rise along your flesh. The fact that he manages to reach your tit in all the layers you were wearing was honestly impressive. And also absolutely ridiculous. He almost managed to hold a straight face but the minute you stared at him like the dumbass he was, he cracked into a fit of laughter.

“You are such an an idiot, it astounds me.”

Men.

***

Tag List

@simpledomain @liliane106 @thecurlsofgod @xeuphorically-moonstruck @euphoric05 @daijanicole @bruhh-whateven@learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @decewill @goldiean@bitchacho25 @bruhh-whateven @justbeingoceana@loveylangdon @iloveshawnieboi @september-lace@valedictorian65 @dimestorebieber22 @MixerMani @lifeoftheparty74 @sinplisticshawn @kamahriii @disaster-rose@justbeingoceana @thecurlsofgod

Arrangement Taglist:

@moonlightmendes22 @cottoncandyshawn @iloveshawnieboi@shawnsblue

@claredolphinbear24 @peterbrokenparker @blackharry@shawnwyr @speakingofmari @moniehp @softmendesss@ydolansss @MixerMani @kitykatnumber @chonmnds @cottoncandyshawn

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mrslackles · 4 years

Note

FLUFFY BRIO PROMPTS YOU SAY??? if you're up for it I would love some Clothes Sharing (idk why this is the first thing im thinking of) and/or and actual brio wedding including brio wedding planning??? idk

Thank you :) And oh gosh, I’d have to think on the wedding one, I’ve never considered them being in that situation before, haha.

Clothes Sharing

Rio’s skinny.

Beth has always known this. Has tried, honestly, her best to rectify it – but god if the man can’t put away food like a vacuum and not gain an inch anywhere. (Literally – he has a bunch of his clothing fitted, and his measurements have not changed since they started dating. It’s infuriating.) Not that she dislikes his body. Definitely has no qualms with the harsh lines of it pressing up against her, driving her into a wall or moving against hers in the shower, drops of water littered across his sharp cheekbones.

But none of that helps her current predicament. Which is standing in his closet helplessly staring at his racks and racks of exquisite clothing and not a single thing that will fit her.

He’d accidentally (so he says) ripped the buttons off her blouse last night then… distracted her all morning, and now she has to go to the pickup line in a lace bra and jeans unless she can find something that could both hug his lithe frame and somehow accommodate her generous chest.

After a minute, she huffs, heading out.

“Rio,” she whines.

He’s in the kitchen making coffee and he turns with a lifted brow.

“’Sup?”

“Do you have anything that will fit?”

Now his gaze flicks down in a way that makes her fold her arms even as she shoots him a glare.

He smirks lewdly before meeting her eyes.

“Uh, you check the–”

“Donation pile? Yes. Which, by the way, isn’t a pile. It’s a t-shirt and a pair of shoes.”

“And neither of em fit?”

She raises a testy brow and he bursts into laughter.

Rounding the island, she glares.

“This is your fault. You’re going to fix it.”

“Hmm. Well. Got an idea.”

“What is it?”

“C’mere,” he jerks his head.

“I have to leave soon,” she says as she approaches.

“I know,” he nods solemnly. “Turn around.”

It’s usually best just to humour him, so she does, and she groans in complaint when his lips land in her neck. He doesn’t waste a second, hands going to undo the hooks on her bra.

“Your idea is for me to flash everyone at my son’s school?”

Her tone is as annoyed as she can manage, trying hard to sound like she’s not beginning to melt into his body with the way he’s kissing her.

“Never said what the idea was about,” he returns, and she can feel his smug smile in her neck.

“God, you’re annoying,” she says, but it comes out breathy.

He spins her around, kisses moving onto her chest until she’s tossing her head back, moaning a little.

But then there’s a sudden pop as he lets her go, straightening back up.

Her eyes burn. “You’re not serious.”

“‘Pologies, ma. But I really do got an idea this time.”

She watches as he stretches up then begins pulling off the t-shirt he’s wearing right now, which is faded to the point of not having a colour anymore – probably the only thing he owns that didn’t still have a price tag attached to it in this tax year. But… it is baggy.

He passes it to her with a sheepish smile and she fixes her bra first before taking it from him and putting it on.

It fits, but.

“I look like a house.”

The neckline is ridiculously unflattering to her huge boobs and she just looks like she’d spent the night at a man’s house. Rio clicks his tongue.

“Tuck it in a lil,” he says but then goes ahead and does it himself, the French tuck messy but managing to improve the situation somewhat.

He steps back to admire his work.

“You look cute.”

She’s still blinking in shock at this offhand compliment when he runs a finger under her chin softly.

“Hmmm,” he nods firmly, like he’s appraised her.

She rolls her eyes as dramatically as she can manage – mainly to stave off a blush, which feels extra likely now that his scent, clung to the t-shirt, hits her nose.

God, she really has to go.

But the thing is, now he’s topless and she said she had no problems with his body, didn’t she?

He moans into the kiss, her hands slowly feeling over the hard planes of his chest.

And the next time they see each other, he’s wearing a hoodie two times too big for him.

#NBC Good Girls #Brio #Brio fanfiction #my writing #I hope you like!!#inyoursheets #thank you for the prompt!! xx

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mendespideys · 6 years

Text

jealous | t.h.

pairing: reader x fuckboy!roommate!tom holland

summary: you have had enough of tom’s fuckboy antics

warnings: language, mentions of sex

prompt: “I hate the fact that I can’t fucking hate you.”

a/n: this is my submission for @underoosbws’s writing challenge. congrats, jess 💞also: i’m not really happy with how this turned out at all, at least not the ending, but i would love some feedback!

You groan loudly, burying your head deeper into your pillow, trying to ignore the obnoxious giggles of the girl Tom had brought home with him. You can vaguely hear him telling her to be quiet, which just fuels your annoyance more. Tom didn’t seem to have any idea what time it was, or he just didn’t care. The door to his room closes, and you sigh, already reaching for your headphones.

When he brought the very first girl home with him, you had told him how thin the walls were the very next day. He had shrugged, saying that he wouldn’t care if you brought a guy home, playing it off as no big deal. Several girls later, you had started to feel slightly jealous of the random one-night stands he would bring with him. One night, you had caught yourself wishing it was you, and since that day, you had suppressed those feelings. However, this was getting harder and harder with every new girl he brought back to your shared apartment.

Pushing the earbuds into your ears, you quickly press play on a song just as another string of giggles echoes throughout the apartment. You briefly wonder why Tom seemed to always bring back the biggest airheads he could find. He just rolled his eyes the one day you asked him, ignoring your observation. You tried not to interfere with what had become a somewhat schedule. He would go out with Harrison on Saturday night, bring a girl home to have fun with and then she would leave early Sunday morning - unless he kicked her out the same night - and he would nurse his hangover.

You scroll through your phone, focusing on the lyrics and not what’s happening in the room across the living room. Your Instagram explore page quickly grows boring, and you sigh, clicking the text message icon. You pause for a moment, unsure of what to do, before quickly tapping on his name.

he’s at it again and i’m dying. hELP

The three dots pop up, signaling that Harrison is typing his response. You wait, welcoming the distraction.

sorry puddin. he’ll grow out of his phase soon

You shake your head at the familiar nickname. Harrison had taken it upon himself to call you pudding ever since you had spilled chocolate pudding all over yourself the second time you met him. Despite hating it in the beginning, you had you admit you didn’t mind it much know that you were this close to him.

phase?? this is just who he is. a major fuckboy and he fucking sucks

He didn’t suck. Tom had been a rather enjoyable roommate so far. He always paid his rent on time, even paying your half too one time when your paychecks had gotten messed up. He would clean up after himself and he would watch movies with you. Admittedly, the two of you had grown quite close during the past year. You weren’t entirely sure when you had started catching feelings for him, but you didn’t want to dwell on feelings that would remain unrequited.

After getting no response from Harrison, you figure he’s busy or asleep, so you remove your earbuds after pausing the song currently playing. Hearing a moan and more giggling, you instantly regret it. You extend your arm behind you, furiously banging against the wall to tell them to quiet down their actions. The apartment falls silent for a moment before the girl whines loudly, her voice annoyingly high-pitched. They talk back and forth before you hear the front door slam shut and you furrow your brows out of confusion. A second later, Tom barges through your door.

“What is your fucking problem?”

You sit up, taken aback at his crude question, ignoring the fact that you were only wearing a thin tank top. “Excuse me?”

“I’m literally just trying to have some fun and you can’t even let me do that,” he mutters, running a hand through his disheveled curls.

You force yourself to look away from his half-way unbuttoned shirt, the sight only a painful reminder. Tom raises his eyebrows, obviously waiting for some sort of clever comeback or at least an explanation.

“Can’t even let you- you have girls over every fucking Saturday. I never complain. I let you bring all these stupid girls home and I literally have to put headphones on so I can’t hear them moaning your name. I am so sorry that I want to go to sleep instead of listening to you fucking the night away.”

Tom scoffs, looking at you, but you avoid his eyes, knowing you would melt as soon as his brown orbs met yours. The effect he had on you was absolutely unfair and you despised it.

“You’re just jealous,” Tom states, throwing his hands up.

“You know what? Maybe I am, but it’s none of your fucking business because you don’t give a shit anyways. Now get out of my room, Holland.”

“Are you jealous of me getting laid or the girls I bring home?” His question appears innocent, but you know him, and easily sense the underlying teasing tone.

“Get out,” you seethe, your eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Tom finally seems to notice the seriousness of your behavior, realizing you aren’t playing along with him. Sighing, he turns around and closes the door behind him without a word. As soon as he does, the tears in your eyes don’t care about invitations anymore and push past your closed lids. You sit there for a second, the salty drops running your cheeks, and you wonder how it had gotten to this point.

You had never meant to become close to Tom; definitely never meant to fall in love with him. Is that what this is? Are you in love with him? You’re not sure about anything other than how painful it was to see him with someone else. Although his girls seemed dumb, they were always gorgeous and you knew he would never go for you. You had told Harrison one time, accidentally blurting it out, and he had just nodded. He told you he could see it in the way you looked at him. A part of you wished Tom could see it too.

Leaning against the wall, you pull your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them to keep them there. You decide you don’t want to cry over him anymore but that’s easier said than done. You glance at your phone, clicking the home button to check the time. A broken smile makes its way to your lips as you inspect the screensaver. A picture that Tom’s brother, Harry, had taken of you, Tom and Harrison the first time you met his family adorned the screen.

A soft knock interrupts your thoughts and you immediately look at your door, half expecting Tom to burst through the same way he had fifteen minutes ago. He doesn’t say anything and briefly, you wonder if he would just go away if you pretend to be asleep. Sniffling, you ask him,

“What do you want?”

“Can I come in, please? It’s easier to talk to you when I can see your pretty face.”

You give him permission and the door opens immediately. You glance at him, noticing he had changed into a plain t-shirt and sweats. You refuse to look at the way the fabric hug his chest, instead meeting his eyes for the first time that night. Tom’s expression softens at the sight of you, but you tell yourself just imagining things. He sighs quietly.

“I don’t really understand why you’re upset,” he starts and for some reason, his choice of words spark the anger within you. “I bring girls home every weekend. What’s so different about tonight?”

“Exactly,” you state, letting your legs fall down, still not moving from your spot. “You bring girls back to our apartment every weekend. I can hear everything you guys do and I am tired of having to listen to music every Saturday night because the guy I love is fucking some random girl next door!”

“Darling-”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your ‘darling’. I am not your anything. You just see me as your roommate and that’s all I am ever going to be,” you’re crying again, croaking out your next words. “I hate the fact that I can’t fucking hate you. I try, Tom, I do, but then you’ll let me borrow your sweatshirt if I’m cold or you’ll help me study for my tests and it all melts away. I never thought I’d be crying over you, but here I am, and it fucking sucks.”

Tom’s eyes are wide and for a second you think it’s because you told him you wanted to hate him, but then you realize how the words had come out of your mouth. You should feel embarrassed, you know that, but all you feel is the immense weight that has been lifted off your shoulders. For a moment, you could care less about your one-sided love, relief flooding your veins after finally getting this off your chest.

You look at him, slightly annoyed with how attractive he looks in just a shirt and sweatpants, and wait for him to respond. The room fills with a short silence. Not necessarily an awkward one, but a comfortable one either. Your roommate’s mouth opens but he quickly closes it again, not knowing what to say. You look back down at your phone, suddenly wondering if you had just ruined your friendship. A small pang of guilt hits you, knowing that if you had, you ruined your relationship with Harrison as well.

“Tom, say something,” you prompt softly, getting slightly worried from his lack of words. He rubs the back of his neck.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” his voice comes out slightly hoarse and he clears his throat. Your heartbeat quickens involuntarily. “I haven’t had a real relationship since I was sixteen. I never thought a girl like you would like me. I would be lying if I said I didn’t find you attractive, Y/N, but I don’t know what to do about it. I know you want more than just a one-night stand.”

His words repeat in your head and you physically feel your shoulders slump slightly, pressing your lips together in thought. The fact that Tom had admitted to finding you attractive wasn’t even registered. You knew Tom had been sleeping around for a while, but you had never suspected his last relationship ended six years ago.

“Oh.” Your response is quiet, almost dumbfounded.

Tom looks at you quizzically, as if to determine your mental state, before taking the two strides forward to reach your bed. You watch him as he sits down on the edge of your bed. It wasn’t the first time Tom had sat in your bed, but it felt different now, almost slightly intimate.

“I’m willing to try. For you,” Tom admits softly, turning back to look at you.

You look at him incredulously, not fully believing him. Shuffling around on the bed, you scoot closer to him. He tracks your movements silently, looking at you with genuine eyes as your meet his. Your heart continues to race, recognizing the close proximity between the two of you. Your eyes flicker toward his lips, only for a moment, but neither of you makes the first move. You nod slowly.

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow. I’m sleepy,” you confess, pushing away the urge to press your lips against his.

Tom nods, a look on his face that you can’t quite decipher. He stands slowly, the bed creaking from the loss of his weight. You reach out and grab his wrist, stopping him from leaving your room. It happened somewhat automatically because all you knew was that you didn’t want him to leave just yet. He looks at you questioningly over his shoulder.

“Stay. Please?” you whisper, the emotional exhaustion taking over.

He nods slowly, cautiously climbing back into bed with you. Struggling slightly, you finally get comfortable under the covers. It’s silent again, but you don’t mind it this time. It feels comforting.

“Don’t get any ideas, Holland, we’re just sleeping.”

Tom chuckles, snaking his hand underneath your neck. Pushing gently, he turns you over so you have no choice but to rest your head on his chest. You can feel his heart beating, the steady rhythm soothing you. Tom kisses the top of your head and you suddenly wonder if he does this with all the other girls. As if he senses your slight jealousy, he rubs your upper arm.

“Just for the record, I didn’t do anything with the blondie. And I have never cuddled up anyone like this, ever, which I kind of regret because it’s surprisingly comfortable. I’m glad you’re my first, though.”

“Shut up and let me enjoy this moment,” you mumble, earning yet another chuckle from Tom. Placing yet another kiss to the top of your head, he hums, telling you to go to sleep. You oblige without needing much encouragement, nuzzling into his side.

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