#i mean she is just so tiny and small and seemingly innocent and shy but . she can kick everyone's ass ... i need her

[labetalol]

SHE IS THE ONLY CHARACTER EVER!

#i think everything about her is perfect . i think frankly she & hawk carries the show ... hi hi hi #i mean she is just so tiny and small and seemingly innocent and shy but . she can kick everyone's ass ... i need her #i''m almost done with the show... she needs to 1) dump tremayne's ass and have hawk kick him to the curb... sick of him sm #2) marry andy... have her baby . 3) ummmm just have more screentime in general... this entire time like yes i love the main story #but also like. shoving harry & dale out of the way like where is my hawk andy and lucy side show . i need more of them... #ok. thanks . i scribbled this instead of studying oncology. i don't careeee i'll fail my exam <3 #twin peaks #my art #lucy moran

[squiggledrop]

Of Lace and Love - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: It is Valentine’s Day, and Spencer has a romantic night planned for Reader, but she has other plans in mind.

Word Count: 6.3k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Smut, Fluff (NSFW, 18+)

Warnings: Oral sex, penetrative sex (unprotected), fingering

You woke up to Spencer pressing gentle kisses to your face. You opened your eyes, smiling and meeting his warm gaze. You brought your hand up to his face, running your thumb over his cheek. He leaned into your touch, placing a chaste kiss on your palm.

“Happy Valentine’s Day (Y/n),” he whispers.

“Happy Valentine’s Day Spence,” you smile. 

He kept staring at you through his glazed over eyes, and you could feel your cheeks flush under his gaze. 

“What?” you laughed, searching his eyes. 

“You’re beautiful.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Feeling your heart swell with all the love you held for the man next to you, you slid your hand to the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. His warm lips met yours, his hands coming to rest at your waist. Your tongue grazed his lip and was immediately met with him opening his mouth, deepening the kiss. 

Soft whimpers filled the room, and Spencer shifted so that he was laying on top of you. His knee slotted between your thighs, and you could feel him growing against you. He leaned down, desperate for more, and you both moaned at the added pressure. He smiled into your mouth, feeling how wet you were against his thigh. With the added encouragement, he griped your hips, pulling you against him, providing you both with the relief you so desperately craved.

Leaning down, he attached his mouth to your jaw, trailing soft, warm kisses down the length of your neck. Your hands ran through his hair, your body pushing into his. He nipped at your pulse point, eliciting a desperate moan from your swollen lips.

“Spence,” you breathed, placing a hand on his chest. He stopped his actions, his pleading eyes peering up at you. “We’re gonna be late,” you say with a sympathetic sigh. You run your finger over his plump lips, wanting nothing more than to spend the entire day in bed with Spencer. 

“I know,” he groans, rolling off of you. He turns his head, brown curls shifting against the pillowcase, as he took one last look at you before leaving the comfort of your shared bed. “Just wait until tonight”, he smirks, “after what I have planned, you’ll never be leaving this bed again.” “I’ll be holding you to that,” you mumble against his lips as he leans down for one last kiss before getting ready for the day. 

You watched as he entered the bathroom, smiling to yourself. You knew Spencer had something special planned for tonight, but what he didn’t know was that you had a plan of your own. 

After hearing the water from the shower start, you got yourself up, excited to initiate phase one.

Spencer spat out his toothpaste, finishing brushing his teeth. “Hey, (Y/n),” he calls, walking back into the bedroom, “I was thinking, for tonight would you rather-”

You looked up, feigning confusion as to why he stopped mid-sentence. You were met with his mouth hung open, and his eyes glued to your body. You cocked your head and raised your eyebrows, questioning his sessile state. “Would I rather what?” you asked innocently, leaning down to grab a skirt out of your dresser. 

“W-would um-,” Spencer stuttered, trying to form a coherent thought, which posed itself as quite difficult when face to face with his practically nude girlfriend. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head, “wha-what are you wearing?”

“Underwear”, you said, biting back a smirk at what might be the understatement of the year. 

You had gone shopping with the girls the week prior, and when you saw this in the lingerie store, you knew you had to have it for tonight. It was red, lacey, and barely covered anything: it was perfect. You watched as Spencer raked over your form, noticing the way his eyes traced your ass that was on full display. You slipped your short black skirt over it, making sure to give it a good shake in the process.  Reaching for your blouse, you saw Spencer gulp, the redness spreading across his cheeks almost matching the fabric that rested against your skin. 

He watched with bated breath, wanting nothing more than to rip the delicate piece of fabric that barely covered your chest off of you. He bit his lip, holding back a groan as you fumbled with the buttons of your white blouse, pushing your tits together in the process. Spencer begged for the tiny fabric to give, but he also knew you had to get to work, and right now, you were making that a bit difficult for him.

“Spence,” you giggled, pulling him from his trance. His eyes darted up to meet yours, and he gave you a weak smile, pretending you didn’t just catch him ogling you. “I said, can you help me with these buttons?” 

He slowly nodded his head, watching as you made your way towards him. 

When you were face to face, he hesitated, his gaze shifting between your face and tits. You chuckled, loving how easily you could make him a flustered mess. “Here,” you smiled, bringing his hands to your open blouse. Spencer’s breath hitched as his fingers grazed the supple skin of your stomach and over your breasts. 

He tried to get his fingers to stop shaking, but between how soft your skin was, how hot your breath was, and how tight his pants were, he couldn’t help but fumble with the buttons.

Noticing him shift uncomfortably, you looked down, smirking at the bulge growing in his pants. You felt the wetness pooling in your panties, and you sighed, desperately wanting his trembling fingers to touch you a bit lower. But, you couldn’t give in just yet. 

“You seem a bit distracted, baby,” you cooed, dragging your fingers up his chest before placing them over his hands. Spencer looked up at you and blushed, giving you a shy smile. You leaned forwards, your tits pressing against him, and placed a light kiss on his cheek before pulling away. 

He let out a small whimper at the loss of contact, but you just gave him a sweet smile before shaking your head and turning to leave the room. He groaned, watching the way your hips swayed as you finished buttoning your blouse. 

“Come on Spence, don’t want to be late for work,” you call after him with an innocent grin. He trailed behind, eyes glued to your now clothed body. 

“I hate you,” he said, trying to hide his smile as he grabbed his keys. 

“I love you too,” you giggled, giving him a chaste kiss before grabbing his hand and making your way out the door. He sighed, giving your hand a quick squeeze, while simultaneously willing his painfully hard cock to go away. But, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t get the thought of what you were wearing under your seemingly innocent work clothes out of his head. This was going to be a long day, he thought to himself.

While riding the subway to work, you took note of how he gripped your hand a little tighter and pulled you a bit closer. The way his eyes scanned for anyone daring to look at you wrong was also not lost on you. 

“Spence,” you said in a calming voice, “it’s okay, baby. You are the only one who knows okay?”

“No I- I know. I just,” he trailed off, his gaze switching between your lips and chest. You noticed, of course, and brushed his hair behind his ear. Leaning in, you whispered, “It’s our little secret. Just for you.” 

He nodded, trying to ignore how your warm breath sent shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes, reminding himself he only had two more stops to get himself together before having to get through an entire workday beside you. A long day indeed, he huffed, a very long day.

When you got to the office, Spencer told you to go ahead, claiming he just needed a minute to compose himself. You gave him an understanding smile and told him that if he really wanted, you guys could just go home and tell Hotch one of you was sick. Spencer refused, however, determined to not let your surprise ruin his, because regardless of how much he didn’t want to have a boner in front of all his coworkers, he loved that you were doing this for him, and just for him. 

Walking to your desk, a bright smile found its way to your face. A giant bouquet of red roses was on your desk, along with a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin. You gleefully picked up the small card placed between two of the flowers and read it to yourself. 

(Y/n),

My love for you stems deep.

Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.

-Spencer 

Picking up the cup of coffee, you heard the elevator ding, and you turned around to meet Spencer’s bashful smile.

“How did you do this?” you asked, humming as you took a sip of the coffee.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he teased. You smiled, noticing a giddy Penelope out of the corner of your eye.

“Well, thank you, Spencer. They are beautiful.” You leaned into his chest, closing your eyes as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Not as beautiful as you.” Looking up at him, you placed a loving kiss on his lips. Spencer melted into your touch, bringing his hands to rest on your waist. This, however, was a grave mistake, because now he could feel the thin straps that held the even thinner piece of lace in place, and he was once again reminded of what was behind the silky blouse that was currently between his fingers. 

Clearing his throat, Spencer gave you a quick peck before sitting down at his desk. As long as he didn’t have to get up, he should be fine, he convinced himself. Spencer, however, was not aware that phase two had not yet begun. 

It had been a few hours, and thankfully, Hotch needed you to go through some files for him, which kept you busy and out of Spencer’s line of sight, meaning he could actually focus and get some work done. He would be lying if he said he was relieved though because a part of him longed for you to be near him, even if it would be impossible to get his work done. 

Soon enough, lunch rolled around, and he felt two arms wrap around him from behind. Smelling your perfume, he smiled and turned his head to meet you. You pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, reveling in how he hummed in content. 

“You ready to get some lunch?” you asked, lightly rubbing your hands over his shoulders. Spencer tried to answer, but the feeling of you pressed against him made his mind go blank. He gripped his thighs, forcing out a nod. “Okay, are you in the mood for anything in particular?” you asked sweetly, unaware of what you were doing to him.

“You,” he replied nonchalantly. You let out an amused gasp at his words and felt the same arousal return from that morning. 

You leaned down, your lips pressing against the shell of his ear. Your hands gripped onto his shoulders and you whispered into his ear. “Soon enough baby.”

Spencer’s eyes screwed shut at your actions, and he resisted the urge to just take you into one of the file closets and do what he’s wanted to do since you both woke up. But, then as if nothing had happened, you stood up straight and went to grab your bag.

“I’m in the mood for thai,” you stated, “What if we go to that place down the street?”

“Yeah, that um- that sounds good.” Spencer stood up, making sure to position his satchel so it covered his crotch. You bit back a smile and took his hand, heading for the elevators.

“Not a word,” he tried to say seriously through a giggle.

“I didn’t say anything,” you amused, giving his hand a tender squeeze. 

“No, but you want to,” he smiled, giving you a knowing look. 

You stepped into the elevator, waiting for the doors to close before you responded.

“I want to do a lot more than that,” you smirked. Spencer let out an involuntary whimper at your words. Without thinking, he pressed the emergency stop on the elevator.

“There,” he said, looking at you desperately, “now you can.”

“Spencer,” you laughed in amusement at how rash he was being. You loved this side of him, but you would never let him know that.

“Please,” he begged. “I- I know it’s not what either of us had planned, but we can still have a romantic night, and it’s either this or I’m going to get myself off in the bathroom because I’ve been thinking about that little lacey thing that you call undergarments all day a-and I’m pretty sure Derek noticed because I went to get some coffee and when I sat back down he kept smirking at me and-”

“Spence, baby, okay,” you said, running your hands over him, trying to calm his breathing. “I’ll help you take care of that.” He smiled and gave a thankful sigh of relief. You cupped his cheek and brought him in for a tender kiss. His hands found their way back to your chest, but you smirked, pulling them off. Spencer let out a disgruntled sigh, just wanting to see his beautiful girlfriend. “But that,” you placed a kiss to the back of each of his hands, “is for tonight.” 

“Okay,” he conceded, desperate to get off and get to lunch. 

“Okay,” you smiled, looking into his loving eyes. “How do you want me to do this?” you asked, running your hands along the collar of his shirt. 

“Can you suck me off?” He looked at you with wide eyes filled with nothing but love and desire. “Love how you feel around me.”

“Anything for you baby.” He gave you a tender smile, and you pressed a kiss to his lips, trailing your hands down to his waist. He helped you unbuckle his pants as you sunk to the ground. You placed a gentle peck to his clothed cock and felt him twitch beneath you. Feeling your hands take him out of his boxers, he flung his head back, whimpering in anticipation. You placed a few kisses on the tip of his cock before licking up the precum leaking out of it. His moans filled the walls of the elevator when you took him into your mouth, bobbing your head back and forth. 

“Fuck, (Y/n)- thank you-” he huffed, “feels so good baby.” You moaned around his dick at the praise, feeling your own arousal gathering at your core. You took him all the way in, and Spencer laced his fingers through your hair when you choked around him. “That’s it baby… ughh… just like that- fuck.”

“Use me Spence”, you moaned, coming up for air. Spencer groaned, his grip tightening on your hair. He began to thrust into your mouth, moaning as you gagged around him. 

“Shit, I’m- I’m gonna”, he heaved through moans. He felt you nod your head and moan around him, and then he was coming down your throat. His grip on you eased up as you worked him through his orgasm. 

After his breathing steadied, he cupped your cheeks and pulled you up into a kiss. His mouth enveloped yours, his tongue caressing yours. He pulled away slightly, placing another peck to your lips before resting against your forehead.

“Thanks,” he smiled, looking into your eyes. “I love you.”

“Anything for you,” you repeated, meaning every word. “And I love you too.” Spencer pulled you into his chest, slotting his head into your neck and peppering your skin with kisses. You giggled, helping him tuck himself back into his pants.

Once you were both situated, you pressed the emergency button again, and the elevator began to move. 

“Wait, you didn’t- do you want me to… I mean I’d love to-”

“Spence, it's okay. I’m good just taking care of you.” He gave you a hesitant look, wanting to make sure you felt good too. “Plus,” you said, leaning into him, “I want to wait for tonight. Don’t want to spoil my dinner,” you teased. 

“Alright,” Spencer smirked, wrapping his arms around you. 

After getting back from lunch, Spencer felt much better. He had filled his stomach and released his previous issue. All he had to do was get through a few more hours and then it was just you and him all night. 

Spencer returned to his desk with two coffees in hand. He placed yours down on your desk with a kiss on your cheek before sitting back down across from you at his desk.

“Thanks, babe,” you smiled.

“No problem, love.” You shared a tender look as you both took a sip of your drinks before getting back to your work. Spencer sighed, flipping through his paperwork, wanting to finish as soon as possible. 

That was until he heard your hushed voice.

“Spence,” you whispered with a mischievous glint in your eye, “guess what?”

“What?” he giggled, matching your secretive tone.

“I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he smiled. You gave him a wink before returning your attention back to the stack of paper in front of you. Spencer admired you for a moment longer before getting back to the stack that inhabited his desk. 

A few minutes later, he was so focused on his work that he almost forgot about the fact that you were right across from him. That was, until he felt your foot trail up his ankle, pushing up his pant leg. He immediately dropped the file and his eyes shot up to look at you. You, however, were engrossed in your work, completely unphased by what you were doing to Spencer.

“(Y/n),” he whispered.

“What?” you asked, peering up from your desk.

“We are at work,” he pleaded, looking around to make sure no one had noticed her wandering foot.

“I know,” she said, pretending to have no idea what he was talking about. He stifled a grin and got back to work, counting down the minutes until you could be alone. 

You waited a minute, making sure Spencer had focused on his work again, before bringing your foot up his leg again. You watched as Spencer brought his mug up to his lips, taking this as your opportunity. You lifted your leg, drawing it up his leg and thigh, stopping when you saw him choke on his coffee and set his mug down.

“(Y/n),” he said with wide eyes. You tried to hold back your smirk, but it was no use.

“Sorry, it’s just, well, you know how tiny my panties are?” Spencer didn’t know what to do. He always knew what to say, but right now, in the middle of the office, surrounded by his friends and co-workers, he didn’t know what to say. So, he just nodded, hoping no one could tell how much he was loving every second of this. “Well,” you drew out, “they are rubbing against me, and I’m just trying to fix it.”

“Oh.” Spencer didn’t know what to do. All he could think about was how wet you were and how he wished he could just rip those panties off of you and take care of you. “I can- I mean… the elevator?” he said, not entirely sure what he was saying. 

“No,” you smiled, “I’ll be okay.” Spencer’s mouth was still agape, and he tried to just get back to work, but it was no use, as his eyes were stuck on you. “I just need to,” you brought your foot back up his leg, watching as he squirmed in his seat, “there,” you smiled, dropping your foot. “All better,” you smiled. Spencer stared at you, cheeks and neck flushed. 

He stared as you looked back down at your paperwork. He stared as you were filling out a form as if nothing had happened. He stared at the clock, praying that the last hour of the day would hurry up because he loved you and wanted to kiss you and hold you and make love to you. Because you were sat across from him, in the middle of the office, wearing the most beautiful piece of lingerie he had ever seen, and he was the only one who knew because it was all just for him, and it was driving him crazy, and he loved every second of it.

The workday was finally done, and Spencer practically jumped out of his seat, grabbing your bags and ushering you out of the office. You giggled as he pulled you along, speed walking towards the elevator.

When the doors closed, Spencer’s lips found yours, and he began to release every ounce of pent up arousal from the day.

You smiled into the kiss, letting Spencer’s hands roam your body and squeeze and grab wherever he wanted. His mouth latched onto your neck, not caring how many marks he was leaving in his wake because now it was time for his surprise. 

When the elevator doors dinged open, Spencer pressed a kiss to your temple and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest.

“So,” you said, bumping your shoulder into his as you walked to the metro station, “what’s the plan for dinner, besides me,” you joked. Spencer smiled, pulling you closer into him.

“You’ll see,” he smiled. “Wouldn’t want to spoil your dinner,” he teased with raised eyebrows. You playfully rolled your eyes and chuckled, holding his hand as you walked down the stairs at the metro station.

The entire ride to dinner, Spencer’s hand rested on your thigh and your head on his shoulder. Moments like these were always your favorite. You always swore you could live a complete and content life just sitting with Spencer. And you knew he felt the same, so long as he had a book he could read to you. 

“We’re here,” Spencer whispered, waking you from your relaxed state. You nodded, getting your bearing as you took his hand and stood up. 

“Guess what?” he asked as he led you down the road to the restaurant.

“What?” you smiled.

“I love you,” he gleamed, looking into your eyes

“I love you too.” You kissed underneath his jaw, letting out a giggle.

“What?” he inquired, wishing he could listen to the sound of your laugh for the rest of his life.

“You still love me? Even though I teased you all day?” Spencer laughed and nodded his head.

“Especially because of that,” he said, bringing your joined hand up to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. You smiled, relaxing into his touch.

“Where are we going?” you asked, noticing you could see the water in the distance.

“Right,” he drew out, pulling you towards a restaurant that sat on the water, “here.”

“Spence, this place is beautiful.” You admired the nautical decor and string lights that hung above your head as Spencer held the door open for you.

“Reid for two,” he said to the hostess.

“Right this way Dr. Reid,” she replied, leading you both through the restaurant. You followed behind Spencer, holding his hand as you walked towards a door at the back of the restaurant. The hostess led you outside and onto a small pier that appeared to be their outdoor seating. However, there was only one table set up, with rose petals covering the ground and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket on the table. Your eyes lit up, watching how the calm water reflected the setting sun. 

Spencer pulled your chair out for you, and you sat down, completely in awe. The hostess left you, and Spencer sat down, reaching for the bottle of champagne. You watched him, completely enamored by the amber glow that filtered through his amber curls.

“Spence,” you said, taking a full glass from him, “this is amazing.” You looked at your beautiful boyfriend and didn’t know how you got so lucky. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Anything for you,” he smiled. You clanked your glasses and took a sip, reveling in the feeling of Spencer running his thumb across the back of your hand. 

The two of you enjoyed a lovely dinner over the sunset and into the starry night sky. You talked and laughed, a smile never leaving either of your faces. 

When the dessert came out, you thanked the waiter, waiting for him to leave before you gave Spencer a slight pout.

“What's wrong?” he asked, setting down his spoonful of ice cream. 

“I thought I was your dessert,” you teased. Spencer let out a small laugh and bit his lip.

“You are, baby, don’t worry,” he brought your hand to his lips and left a chaste kiss in their place. “Good,” you smiled, placing a spoonful of vanilla ice cream in your mouth. You purposefully let a little dribble down your chin and let out a moan that was normally only saved for Spencer’s ears when you were in the comfort of your bed at home.

“Now that’s not nice,” Spencer groaned, watching as you licked the melting ice cream from your mouth. 

“Well then come get your dessert.” Spencer looked you in the eyes for a moment, debating his options. Abruptly, he stood up, walking towards the door.

“Where are you going?” you asked.

“To pay the bill,” he said, rushing through the door. You chuckled to yourself, excited to get home.

Spencer raced you up the stairs of your apartment building, both of you desperate to finally be back in bed together. He fumbled with his keys, trying to unlock the door without detaching his lips from yours. He groaned into the kiss, becoming frustrated with the lock. 

“Here,” you mumbled against his mouth. You took the keys from his hand and turned away so you could see the lock. Spencer whined from the loss of your lips but remedied it by kissing behind your ear. You gripped his bicep, wishing he could just take you then and there. 

Finally, the door was opened. You walked inside together, Spencer's mouth still latched to your neck. He turned you around, leaning you against the door, causing it to slam shut. You ran your hands through his hair, tugging on the roots. He moaned against your skin, and you felt it in your core. As much as you wanted Spencer to kiss every inch of you, which you knew he would, you needed him.

“Spencer,” you moaned, grabbing at his shoulders. He nodded, understanding what you wanted. He pulled away, but only slightly.

“I got you,” he huskily whispered into your ear. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and nodded. He brought his mouth back to your lips, and walked you into the bedroom, guiding you along the way. 

He backed you up into the bed and followed your lips down as you laid back. Coming up for air, he raked his eyes over your disheveled hair and blouse and thought you had never looked more beautiful.

“I’m ready for my dessert,” he pleaded. You smiled and nodded, bringing his hands to your breasts. Spencer smiled and began massaging your tits through your blouse. You leaned your head back, desperate for more. Spencer knew that, so he began unbuttoning your shirt, thankful that his hands were no longer shaking. He sucked on your now exposed skin, leaving marks down your chest as he went. He helped you shrug your shirt off, and his breath caught in his throat. 

“Fuck (Y/n).” He traced his fingers along the delicate red lace that covered your nipples, his light touch igniting a fire within you. “Been thinking about this all day.” He brought his mouth back down, running his tongue over your clothed nipples.

“Shit Spence,” you moaned, “need more. Need you.” You felt his smirk on your skin, and then he was unclasping the back, exposing your breasts to him. He took one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your nipple, while his hand came up to your other one, switching between flicking and massaging. 

He switched positions, making sure to pay the other one equal love. Your moans filled the room, as you rubbed your thighs together, desperate for some relief. You wrapped your legs around Spencer’s waist, begging him to come closer.

“Is my dessert nice and wet for me?” His mouth kissed down your stomach, his fingers trailing behind. 

“Yes,” you whimpered. His fingers gripped your waist, holding you in place as he kissed along the waistband of your panties. He placed a kiss on your clothed clit and you bucked your hips up, wanting more. He ran his finger over your partly covered pussy moaning at how wet it was. “Is this what was bothering you earlier?” he asked, rubbing the soaked lace against you even more.

“Yes,” you panted, shaking your head.

“You want me to help? Want me to take them off, baby?” he asked, his cheek leaning against your thigh as he pressed gentle kisses to your inner thigh.

“Please,” you nodded. He slipped his fingers under your panties, pulling them down at an antagonizing slow pace. When they were finally off, you clenched, loving the feeling of the cool air and his hot breath mixing on your sensitive skin. 

“Baby you are so pretty,” he praised. He ran his fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal on his fingers. He put his fingers in his mouth, moaning around them as he cleaned them off. “You taste so good, baby. All for me.” 

“Please, Spence.” You bucked into the air, craving his mouth on you. He happily obliged, licking a stripe up your folds and sucking on your clit. You writhed beneath him, grasping at the bedsheets. He ran his tongue around your clit, the vibrations from his groans only adding to your pleasure. He brought his fingers back to your center, slipping one inside of you, and pumping it in and out slowly. 

“Faster... Unghh- please. Need more.” Spencer sped up his finger, adding a second. He curled them, hitting your spot perfectly. You screamed out in pleasure, only causing him to go harder. He continued his thrusts, grazing his teeth over your clit in the process. 

“Fuck, Spence. Don’t- don’t stop… yeah, just like that.” You grabbed onto his hair, pushing him further into you. Feeling the knot build, you wrapped your legs around his head, grinding onto his face. With a final graze of your clit, you were coming, and Spencer worked you through it, lapping up your release on his mouth, not wanting to waste a drop of his dessert. 

When you came down, Spencer removed his fingers from your center, causing you to groan from the sensitivity. He came and sat next to you on the bed, bringing his fingers to his lips once again. You watched him above you, and you swore it was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. His lips were shiny with your release, and they looked so pretty, all plump and wet, and you wanted them on you. Reaching for him, you brought his lips to yours and tasted yourself on him. His tongue explored your mouth, coating every inch in yourself. 

Without breaking the kiss, Spencer helped you sit up and placed you in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you complained, pulling at the collar of his shirt. Spencer nodded and you began unbuttoning his shirt. Yearning to occupy his mouth, while he waited for you to finish, Spencer brought your tit into his mouth, sucking on the soft skin. You felt your arousal come flooding back, and you ground your hips into his lap. 

Pushing off his shirt, you placed a string of kisses along Spencer’s collar bone, making your way back up his neck and stopping when you reached his forehead. Spencer then brought your other breast into his mouth and you flung your head back, pulling him further into you, burying his head in your chest. You felt his fingers run along your back, tracing every curve of your body. You shifted on top of him, placing your drenched pussy on top of his clothed crotch. The feeling of his dress pants on your exposed clit felt amazing and you couldn’t help but grind down hard on him, chasing your impending release. 

Noticing you were close based on your shallow breaths, Spencer brought his hands to your waist, pushing you against him, helping you finish. With a few more thrusts, you were coming undone on top of him, soaking his pants in the process.

“That was so hot baby,” Spencer groaned, kissing your neck. Your head rested on his shoulder and you smiled, trying to regain your strength. 

“You feel so good,” you praised, “but, I need you. Need your pants off,” you panted. Spencer obliged peppering your face with kisses as he unbuckled his pants and slid them off with his boxers. You sat up, allowing him to shimmy out of them. His cock sprang free, resting against his stomach. You groaned, loving the way he would always get so hard because of you. 

You began to bend down, wanting to take him in your mouth, but before you could, his arms were around you pulling you back up. You gave him a confused look, but he gave you a sheepish smile and shook his head.

“I won’t last if you do that,” he admitted. You smiled, giving him an understanding nod. 

“Can I ride you then?” you asked, looking up at him with wide, lust-filled eyes.

“Please,” he smiled, shifting back against the headboard. You followed him, taking your place in his lap again. He grabbed onto your waist, guiding you up and onto his dick. You ran your wet folds over his tip, watching as he moaned, leaning his head back. Desperate to have him inside you, you sank down, loving the feeling of him filling you up.

Spencer watched as his dick disappeared inside. “So pretty baby.” He kissed your shoulder, waiting for you to move. You began circling your hips, both of your moans filling the room. Once you were ready, you lifted your hips setting a steady pace, bouncing up and down on him.

“Feels so good Spence,” you groaned, resting your hands on his shoulders for support. His head was buried into your shoulder, completely lost in the feeling of you around him. You leaned back a bit, getting a better angle, and felt him go deeper than ever. Screams left your lips, and Spencer took the opportunity to tighten his grip on your hips and began thrusting up into you. The added force only increased your pleasure and you closed your eyes, completely lost in the bliss that was Spencer Reid. 

He watched as he pounded into you, loving the way your tits bounced and your mouth was open in pleasure because of him. He brought you closer to him, wanting to feel your skin against his, and the new angle made it so he was hitting your spot every time. You clenched around him, feeling your orgasm growing.

“Shit (Y/n),” he groaned, “do that again.” You smiled, clenching around him again, wanting him to feel as good as he was making you feel. “Fuck- I’m close.”

“Me too.” Spencer brought his hand down and rubbed your clit. “Yes, yes, don’t stop Spence- ughh… don’t stop.” He would never stop, he loved you too much to ever stop. He would do this for the rest of his life. He would never stop.

With another thrust, Spencer felt you clenching around him and felt your thighs shake. He continued to rub your clit helping you down from your high as he chased his own. All it took was a few more thrusts and you moaning his name in his ear, and he was coming. You felt hot ropes of his come inside of you and you moaned, loving the feeling of your juices mixing together. 

Spencer’s arms wrapped around your back and you snuggled into his neck, not daring to leave your position on his lap. 

Spencer grabbed the blankets, pulling them around your still connected bodies. You snuggled into him, relishing in the feeling of him inside you and keeping you full. 

“Thank you,” Spencer said, kissing your lips. “I love you so much,” he mumbled into your mouth.

“I love you too.” You rested your head on his forehead, the two of you lost in each other's eyes. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Spencer.” 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, (Y/n).” He pressed a gentle peck to your lips before snuggling into you. “You’re going to have to wear that more often,” he murmured while succumbing to sleep.

“That can be arranged,” you smiled, closing your eyes. Spencer grinned, falling asleep in your arms, because he knew you loved him and he loved you, and it was all for him.

tag list: @muffin-cup @drreidsboyband @boxofsparklingmuses @deetle625 @vladsgirlxx @you-sunshine​

if you would like to be added please fill out this form! link also in bio, thanks for reading!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #Dr Reid #reid x reader #spencer x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #mgg #mgg smut #valentines day #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid insert #spencer x y/n #spencer x you

[lovely-jily]

potions and locked closets

hey!! sorry this is such a long fic BUT i just wanted to say that i’m also working on this same fic but from lily’s pov lmk if you’d want that:))) thanks and i love you all so freakin much <3

James tried to steady his breathing. His heart was already beating too quickly for his liking, and he hadn't even seen her yet. He was already surprised that she agreed to be his partner; they both know that it would likely be another hour of pointless bickering but nonetheless. Lily Evans had agreed to partner with James for their weekly project Slughorn had assigned. She finally said yes to something.

"Fine," she had said after he asked her, following it up with, "But I'll undoubtedly need help with Transfiguration this week, so if you swear to help me, then I suppose we can partner."

In all honesty, James wasn't having too much trouble with his Elixer to Induce Euphoria, but he just wanted an excuse for Lily to be with him. And maybe if she saw that he had matured at least a little bit, it would make her start to tolerate him.

If that were even possible.

The dungeons were decently empty, but Lily had intentionally reserved the potions room in advance so no one else would be around. Meaning they would be completely and totally alone.

When he walked into the room, she was fiddling with the size of the fire under the cauldron. She was at the desk she usually sat in, the second row to the left, with her back to him.

"Evening Evans," He said, setting his bag on the table and standing next to her, "I see you've started already."

"Well, I actually want a good score on this," She exhaled through her mouth and flipped through her Potions book, her dainty fingers lingering on the words "Elixer to Induce Euphoria".

"I'm right there with you," he said, rolling up his sleeves. He watched Lily's eyes dart from his arms back to her textbook. From what James could see, she already gathered the ingredients and had them neatly organised in front of them.

"Alright, you can start by skinning these then?" She said, swiftly handing him the Shrivelfigs.

"Got it," he noted the way her eyes darted up to his for a second when she was handing him the Shrivelfigs, their skin touching momentarily. While it was only a second, it was long enough to cause James to hitch his breath in an all too noticeable way.

He started skinning the flower, trying to ignore the way her perfume smelled or the curve of her jaw. She tied her hair up in a low ponytail, pulling out tiny wispy hairs that framed her face. He chastised himself for the dirty thoughts that followed, but, Jesus, he couldn't help his want to do the most unholy things to her when she did that.

She started working on porcupine quills as he attempted to pull himself together.

"I wish we got Amortentia."

James took a sharp inhale, resulting in him coughing on his own spit. She, Lily Evans, the same Lily Evans who insisted she hated every fibre of his being every day since they were twelve, wanted to make a love potion with him- James! James Potter! As in the same James Potter that she would shoot daggers at any excuse, the boy she would scold any second she could, the boy-

"It's just so much more of a challenge compared to this one," she finished.

Right. Of course. That's why Lily wanted to make that potion, no other reason, as much as James wanted there to be.

"At least we didn't get Felix Felicis. That takes a while," He ignored the feeling of his heart sinking and his stomach twisting as he finished up the Shrivelfigs. He should've known that was the reason, but he couldn't help but innocently jump to conclusions with her.

"What did Amortentia smell like for you?" She asked, causing James to start jumping to conclusions again.

How do I answer this honestly without giving away the fact that I smelled her?"

"Fresh bread, rain, and- uh- my mother's shampoo," He mentally kicked himself for bringing up his mother, but it was the quickest thing he could think of on the spot, "What about you?"

She sighed, stirring in the quills, "The ocean, my mum's hot chocolate and a cologne of some kind, but I couldn't place where that one was from."

A pang of jealousy beat along with James's heart as he thought about her smelling another lads cologne. Whoever he was, he was a prick.

She shook her head quickly as she seemed to panic for a moment, hastily saying, "Anyways, I'm sure it doesn't matter."

She fiddled with the ladle, brushing the few hairs out of her face. Her cheeks were bright red.

"You alright there, Evans?" He asked as he turned to look at her. He swallowed what felt like all his dignity and pride but was actually just the extra spit that always was around with Lily.

"Just fine," She cleared her throat and handed him the Sopophorous beans, not looking at him, "Would love it if you could start working on these, though."

"Got it," he mumbled as he started dicing the beans.

"No, Potter," His heart lightened a little at the sound of his name in her voice, even if it was to chastise him, "Those are far too small. They'll dissolve too quickly."

"What do you mean, this is how Slughorn does it-"

"Slughorn always cuts things too small, but he makes up for it by moving a little quicker-"

"Well, that's stupid. What kind of a teacher-"

"James," She looked up at him, sighing, and despite her exhausted expression, his lungs lifted immensely at the sound of his first name. She never used his first name.

"Yes, Evans?"

"Could you perhaps go find more in the Potions closet? I think it'll just make things a lot easier."

"Got it."

The closet was cluttered, full of misplaced ingredients from students whose first priority clearly wasn't organisation. After a solid minute of staring at the mess, he called her in to help him.

"What do you mean 'Can't find them'- I just saw them," she huffed, shoving herself next to him in the tight space. James would be lying if he said he didn't do this on purpose but let the boy live. He would take any excuse to be in close proximity to the girl.

"Not sure how anyone could find anything in here. I feel bad for the poor bloke who has to clean this during detention," He said, hands on his hips as she stood in front of him, green eyes scanning the shelves. The closet door closed behind her, and while they weren't any closer than they were by the desks, it almost felt like she was right on top of him. It was taking his total concentration to not think about shoving her against the door and having a long-awaited snog.

"It'll probably be Sirius," she said, glancing at him, a smirk on her face.

He chuckled as he looked at the messy shelves, suddenly shy from her eye contact, "Probably. Maybe we should leave him a note."

They faced each other, her back towards the door and his towards the shelves of messy ingredients. There was just enough room between them for her to fold her arms against her chest, her smile making James's lungs feel extra airy, "Or we can charm the Wolfsbane to fall off every time he tries to put it away."

James laughed, shaking his head as he looked down at her. Their faces were only inches apart, and his heart was beating so hard he was worried she could feel it.

"You know, for such a stickler for rules, you're quite creative with pranks."

She smirked, "I've learned that you can get away with a lot more if you aren't so obnoxious about it."

James let out a fake, dramatised gasp, "You?! A Prefect breaking rules?"

She just shrugged, a smirk still painted on her face. James took a second to look at her, feeling fortunate that not only was he was in the potions closet with her, but she had chosen to carry a conversation with him. This friendly banter was still a little rare, even though they had been getting a little closer lately. Since the incident at the end of fifth year, roughly nine months ago, James decided to get his act together. Mainly for the sake of Lily, but also the threat of war was becoming more than just rumours, and he knew that a war was no place for an immature bully like himself. He was not a person that he- or really anyone- was proud of, and he wasn't okay with that.

James was about to say something when her eyes lit up at something behind his head.

"There it is!" She said and reached her arm out to grab something just next to his ear.

Under normal circumstances, James would've been disappointed that she found it because it probably meant that his time in a closet with her, the girl he's wanted to shag since he had first laid eyes on her, was now over.

However, when Lily reached forward to grab whatever they were looking for (James had since forgotten. Other things had occupied his mind the past couple of minutes), she had subconsciously pressed her body up against his. In a panic, James put his hands on her waist. They both looked at each other with panicked eyes when they realised what was going on, faces close enough that James felt her heavy exhale as she attempted to catch her breath. Her eyes darted to his lips as he was suddenly aware of how naked they felt without hers on them. He instinctively bit them.

James cleared his throat and politely turned his head away from her, trying to reduce the awkwardness.

"Er-Um-Sorry," He said, taking his hands off her waist and shoving his hands into his pockets. Lily's hand was still grasping the beans behind him, and she was staring at him, seemingly debating something. Feeling shy and awkward as she studied his face, James was staring at her left earlobe, noticing the freckle resting next to her small pearl earring.

"Don't worry about it," She mindlessly whispered, still looking intently at him. She seemed to be deep in thought and was not thinking about the words she was saying.

James was just surprised she wasn't showing any signs of being uncomfortable. He would've guessed that she would be yelling at him by now.

"So-uh- I guess we should get-" James cleared his throat as he reached for the door handle behind her. He was nervous under Lily's stare and was having a hard time keeping composure. He wasn't sure what she was thinking, and that honestly bothered him more than if she was yelling at him. At least he knew how she felt then, but he was entirely in the dark right now, "We should get going. The potion's probably been simmering for too long."

Lily blinked and shook her head as if leaving a deep trance. Suddenly embarrassed and blushing, she nodded her head and cleared her throat.

"Right," She said as James tried the door handle.

It didn't move.

He tried it again.

Nothing.

"Well, shit," James said, trying to jiggle the door handle again with both hands despite knowing it wouldn't work. She probably thought he did this on purpose (Which wouldn't be a terribly bad idea if James wasn't so afraid of her), "It's locked."

Lily's eyes widened in a panic, and she promptly turned around, trying the door handle for herself. When it inevitably didn't work, she turned back around and sighed as she leaned against the door, looking up. She groaned and brushed the hair out of her face.

"I forgot that Slughorn keeps it locked," She said, still huffing, "Normally, it doesn't matter because he just keeps it open, but..."

James felt his pockets for his wand and remembered he left it on the desk, "You haven't got your wand, do you?"

Lily looked down as she felt her own pockets, looking back up as she shook her head.

It was then, at the sight of a dishevelled Lily Evans, that James realised that he was locked in a closet with her, and he had a hard time remembering why this was such a bad thing. He tried to shove out the thoughts that entered at the way she looked dishevelled and breathing heavily. The things he would do to be the one making her look like that...

"Sorry, Evans. I feel partially responsible for this predicament," He shook his head, trying to regain self-control. What was he thinking? This was Lily Evans he was thinking about. The girl who never failed to let him know just how much she wanted to strangle him at any given moment.

She said nothing, instead resumed studying his face. He sheepishly messed up his hair, unsure what to do with his body under her gaze.

"Oh, Christ, James," She said in annoyance, biting her lip softly.

"What did I do? I didn't know about the lock!" James said defensively, finding it odd that she was just now getting mad at him.

She rolled her eyes and just looked at him.

"Fuck it," She said, and before James could form a confused expression, her hands were pulling his neck forward, and her lips were being slammed against his.

"What the fuck?" James said, shock widening his eyes as he pulled away slightly. He clearly was baffled beyond logical thinking and reason because Lily would be shoved up against the door if he were thinking clearly. There was no way that Lily Evans, the same Lily Evans that swore she wouldn't ever go out with him not even nine months ago, had just kissed him. Passionately, at that.

"Are you complaining?" She asked, a soft smirk resting on the lips that James was just kissing.

"What-No? Of course not, I just-"

"Then shut up," She whispered, feeling her way from his neck to his tie, which she pulled him forward with so their faces were close again, "And give me a good snog."

"Yes, ma'am," James smirked and tilted his head, pushing her against the door and kissing her firmly without a second thought.

#jily #jily fic #james and lily #james potter and lily evans #james potter supremacy #james and lily potter #lily and james #lily evans and james potter

[mizunetzu]

Kuroo x reader - Kuroo’s Pocky Scheme!

⚠️ Warnings - Kuroo being a desperate simp, none!!

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

Kuroo stared at the doorknob to the schools kitchen-y room. It was such a desperate, bottom-of-the-barrel move, but he was literally just that. A desperate simp.

He sighed and pushed open the door, more forcefully than he intended. A small, blonde girl jumped and whipped her petite form around.

Kuroo raised his arms in defense. “I come in peace, Yachi-san.”

The girl, Yachi, visibly relaxed. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “O-oh...you’re...sorry, I don’t remember your name, but you’re Nekoma’s captain right? Oh god, what if you told me your name and I forgot gosh I am so-“

“No-no! It’s fine, I dont think we’ve ever talked.” Kuroo nudged the door shut, and dropped his voice into a whisper. “Ok, hear me out. I gotta huge-and-kinda-stupid favor to ask.”

“M-m-me?! Wh-wh-whaddya need from me?!”

“Well-calm down, I don’t ‘need’ much from you, no offense.” Kuroo leaned against the door. “Uh-first lemme explain-and promise not to make a big deal outta this, okay?”

Yachi nodded. Kuroo looked around the room, seeing only Yachi and a big watermelon inside.

“So. I may or may not have a tiny...crush, on (Y/n).”

Yachi blinked. “Wait, who’s (Y/...(Y/n)..? (L/n) (Y/n)?! Oh my-!”

“That’s besides the point!” Kuroo flushed, waving his hands up to hush Yachi. He felt so pathetic. He felt like a desperate schoolgirl, coming up with ideas on how to get his crush to notice him with his school girl friends.

“Anyways,” Kuroo shakily ran a hand through his untamable hair. “I’m...uh, I’m kind of desperate, and I feel like I’m gonna explode if I don’t...kiss him soon.” That last part came out in a mumble. He shook his head.

Kuroo snapped a finger at Yachi. “That’s where you come in.”

Yachi nodded dumbly. She really had no incentive to helping out this...tall, scary man. But, if she recalled correctly, (Y/n) was close friends with him-so he should be perfectly safe, right?

“I need you,” Kuroo fished a red box of Pocky out of his Nekoma jacket. “To go up to (Y/n), and ask if you can kiss him. He’ll probably say no, but if you ask him and say you’ll do it Pocky-game style, he’ll say yes. He never rejects food.”

Yachi deadpanned. Then, she erupted into vast shades of red. “W-wait-! But I don’t like him! Why do I have to kiss him-!”

“No! Let me finish!” Kuroo was losing his cool. His desperate simp was really showing, huh. “Once he says yes, tell him to keep his eyes closed because you’re embarrassed or something, and while his eyes are closed-you and me will switch places and I’ll eat the Pocky in your place! I get my kiss, and I’ll owe you absolutely anything!”

Yachi sputtered. What if it went wrong? What if he didn’t switch in time and her poor first kiss was taken by this boy she wasn’t that interested in? He’d think she was interested in him and she’d have to marry him and have to live in a cave hiding for the rest of her life-!

“I’ll do it.” A mature, level headed voice suddenly pipped up. Kuroo and Yachi both flinched in suprise. The door softly pushed open.

“But if I may, I do have a few suggestions.” Kiyoko scratched at her collar, walking in and inspecting the two.

“Yeah-me too.” Yaku follower in after Kiyoko, sending a mocking lifted gaze over to Kuroo. Kuroo looked away in embarrassment. “Like, I don’t know, be more quiet so everyone-including (L/n)-kun, doesn’t hear about your stupid Pocky plan.”

Kuroo usually would’ve opened his mouth to retort, but Yaku could easily warn (Y/n) of his plan, and it would immediately fall into shambles. He probably wouldn’t get his kiss then. Kuroo, regretfully, kept his mouth shut.

“Anyways,” Kiyoko cut in, breaking the heated glare Yaku and Kuroo gave eachother. “I can ask him in Hitoka-chan’s place. But, I do have a few concerns.”

Kiyoko held her finger up. “One-how do we know he’s going to say yes in the first place? Even with the Pocky-“

“No, no. (Y/n) never refuses anything to do with food. I even got him to forcefully drag Kenma out of his room by offering to cook him dinner last year. He and Kenma had bruises all over. A kiss is nothing to him.”

Kiyoko hummed, seemingly accepting Kuroo’s answer. She held up her second finger. “Second, how will we-well I, ask him without seeming suspicious? If I ask him alone, and we do it alone, that won’t give Kuroo-san the opportunity to slip in and switch with me.”

“But if she asks him and all if us are, y’know, there, he’ll think somethings up or we’re tryna make fun of him.” Yaku finished her thought. Kiyoko nodded.

Kuroo blinked. He didn’t think this far. “Uh...”

“W-well, what if Shimizu-senpai asked (L/n)-kun while he was talking to uhm...Kuroo-senpai, and he tags along because he wants to just...be there...and Shimizu-senpai takes him to a room where me and...sorry, I-I don’t really know your name but-“ Yachi pointed at Yaku. “To a room with me and him in it?”

Yaku blinked. “Wait, wouldn’t it be suspicious If Shimizu took him into a room just to find us sitting there?”

“W-well...Wouldn’t it be more suspicious and awkward for Kuroo-senpai to be there alone with them? We can just, sit there and pretend to talk with Kuroo-senpai until (L/n)-kun closes his eyes.”

“Holy shit, that’s a great idea...” Kuroo rubbed his head in disbelief. If he had gone through with his original plan, he would’ve failed so hard. “Well then-what are we waiting for? Lets go-“

“I have one more thing.” Kiyoko turned to Yachi.

“Hitoka-chan, if what Kuroo-san is saying is true, we should have no problem asking him to do the Pocky game with me, but realistically, it would make more sense if you ask him.”

Yachi’s eyes widened. Kiyoko continued. “I’m a year above him, and since much upperclassman girls don’t...idolize and fawn over underclassman like the ones in his grade or first-years do, it would feel a bit weird if I asked him.”

“You, on the other hand,” Kiyoko grabbed the box of Pocky from Kuroo’s hands and placed them gently on Yachi’s. “Are perfect for this, since girls like you seem to gravitate towards (L/n)-kun. The ‘shy-girl-who-wants-to-kiss-her-crush’ type. And we’ll reenforce it with the Pocky according to Kuroo-san.”

Yachi was quiet for a second, then she opened her mouth. “O-okay...I guess I’m doing it then...”

“Wheey!” Kuroo clapped his hands. “You guys are so nice, helping me with my boy problems.”

Yaku jabbed a finger at Kuroos face. “Yeah, you owe us big time Mr. Docosahexaenoic face.”

“You aren’t even doing anything, though.”

——

“(Y-Y/-!” Yachi was standing behind (Y/n). Her mumbles of “(Y/-!” were practically inaudible as the sticks inside the Pocky box rattled around in her shaking fingers. Kuroo side eyed Yachi, nudging his head to (Y/n)-who was talking to him so obliviously-egging her to go on.

“(L/n)-kun!” Yachi tensed and downcast her whole head, suddenly finding immense interest in the small rip in her shoes. (Y/n) turned around, facing away from Kuroo.

“Yes? Yachi-san? Did you need—is that Pocky? Can I have some?”

Yachi almost threw the box straight into the air. (Y/n) had his eyes fixated hungrily on the Pocky box, pointing at it gently with his hand. Yachi cleared her throat nervously. She felt her heart hammering in her chest.

“I-I-please don’t take this in a weird way but-c-can I k-k-kiss you-?!”

Yachi bowed down in a sharp 90 degree angle, making (Y/n) step back awkwardly. He looked at Kuroo, who gave him an innocent shrug, and looked back at Yachi.

“Uh-I’m sorry, Yachi-san, I don’t really-“

“We can do it Pocky game style! A-and I’ll let you have all of the Pocky afterwards! Please! Please! Please!”

(Y/n) eyes flickered back and forth from the box of Pocky up to Yachi’s sweaty, bowing hair. He really wanted that Pocky too. It was just a kiss, he never really cared about sentimental things like “first kisses” and whatnot. Plus, he’d get a whole box of Pocky afterwards.

“Okay then.”

“Really?!” Yachi raised her head, and (Y/n) nodded.

“You better keep your end of the deal and give me the Pocky afterwards, though.”

“I promise I will-!” Yachi stiffly bowed again, before trotting off with (Y/n) trailing behind her. “W-we can do this in the managers bed rooms!”

“Ok...” They walked in awkward silence. After a few seconds of contemplating, (Y/n) turned around.

“Tetsu, why are you coming?”

Kuroo shrugged. “Am I not allowed to come? I want some Pocky too.”

(Y/n) pursed his lips. “I mean I give you like, two, but don’t you think you’ll make Yachi-san uncomf-“

“It’s fine! I-I don’t care if he comes!” Yachi said a bit too quickly. (Y/n) eyed her suspiciously. Both Kuroo and Yachi broke into a cold sweat.

“...okay...let’s keep going, then.”

Yachi and Kuroo let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding.

——

“Hello.”

“Yo.”

Yaku held up a peace sign while Kiyoko waved. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow, waving back.

“I thought we were doing this in private?”

Yachi tensed. “W-well this is private enough for me...”

(Y/n) softly plucked the box of Pocky away from Yachi, walking away from them to sit down and open the box. Yachi and Kuroo shared a knowing, determined glance while Yaku and Kiyoko pretended to immerse themselves in conversation.

(Y/n) fished out a Pocky stick, and sat cross-legged on the bed mats. He waved it around, eventually settling to pointing it towards Yachi. “Sit down, so we can do this.”

“Yes!” Yachi dropped down abruptly, sitting in front of (Y/n). Kuroo walked over as nonchalant as possible and plopped down near Yachi. (Y/n) looked at him skeptically.

“Whaaaat. I just wanna see my good friend (Y/n) have his first kiss.”

“Pervert. Just say you wanna kiss Yachi-san and leave, you creep. Or do you wanna kiss from me instead?”

(Y/n) soft clad smile turned into a teasing smirk, making Kuroo break into another cold sweat. His heart started picking up speed once (Y/n) placed a Pocky stick, chocolate side first, between his lips. They looked so soft.

“C-close your eyes please, (Y/n)-kun.”

(Y/n) hummed from the stick in his mouth. “Eh? But they’re already...closed?”

“I-I meant keep them closed! ...this is...this is embarrassing so-!”

“Gotcha, Yachi-san. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” (Y/n’s) gentle smile reappeared as he smiled with the biscuit in his mouth. “Now, bite on to the Pocky already.”

Yachi turned over to Kuroo. Kuroo, as slowly as he could, shuffled his way into Yachi’s previous spot, in time while Yachi backed away. Yachi could see the way Kuroo’s hands shook as he placed himself down in-front of (Y/n), who was waiting ever-so-patiently with his fingers tracing the Pocky box.

“Yachi-san?” (Y/n’s) confused voice came out a bit muffled. Yachi squeaked out a quick “G-give me a second-!”, and (Y/n) couldn’t help but tell how far her voice sounded, even if it was just sightly father. Eh, he was probably just imagining things.

Kuroo was sweating buckets. He never thought his plan would work so smoothly. Hell, he didn’t think he’d actually be going through with it in the first place.

“God, hurry it up Kuuuua...” Yaku trailed off into a cough. “-Yachi-san. Hurry up ‘Yachi-san’, and stop staring at (L/n)-kun like that.”

Kuroo glared at Yaku, almost responding with a “shut the fuck up!”, before letting his mouth clamp shut frustratedly. He looked at Yachi for assistance. Yachi got the memo, and responded with a “I-I’m trying-! I’m just so nervous...!”

“Awwe...don’t be nervous, Yachi-san! Just think of it like we’re eating Pocky and our lips just so happen to touch.” (Y/n) smiled, and licked his lips the best he could. The chocolate part of his end was starting to melt, and the stick was getting soft in his mouth.

“The Pocky is melting...”

“I-I-I’m on it! Sorry, I’m doing it now..!” Yachi frantically motioned at (Y/n) to Kuroo. Kuroo nervously gestered back, as if to say “I’m fuckin’ trying..!”

Kuroo gulped, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, and closed his lips around the Pocky stick. This was really happening. He was going to kiss his long time crush. He was going to kiss (Y/n). Oh god, he’s awfully close. He’s closer than he’s ever been. Why won’t his heart just shut up and calm down?

Before he knew it, (Y/n) was nibbling at his end of the biscuit. The distance was becoming shorter. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. He thought he was fully prepared to come into this all suave and nonchalant, but now that it was happening all of his preparedness flew out the window. He starting eating at his end of the stick aswell.

Both (Y/n) and Kuroo stopped eating once there was less than a inch of the stick separating them. (Y/n) briefly felt ‘Yachi’s’ nose brush against his, and Kuroo could feel the barely noticeable breaths of air from his nose.

The room was silent. Either that, or the vociferous thumping of his heart rate picking up speed drowned out Yaku and Shimizu’s voices.

And now that he was closer, he could see just how nervous (Y/n) was. His eyelids were fluttering, his brows were slightly pulled down, his nose was scrunched up just a tad, and his fingers were nervously tracing the packaging of the Pocky box. Even if it was cute, Kuroo couldn’t help but feel a bit bad.

But a plan was a plan. And he’d been waiting for years.

Kuroo broke down the last remaining barrier from his lips to (Y/n’s), letting the small Pocky nub lay on his tongue as he connected their lips together. He heard a small “yaay.” From who he assumed was Shimizu, and an obnoxious “Get it, ‘Yachi-san’!”, followed by a wolf whistle from Yaku.

He felt (Y/n) push closer, tentatively and unintentionally grabbing hold of Kuroo’s hand in the process. Kuroo intertwined his fingers with (Y/n’s), and that touch alone probably gave him away, but he couldn’t care less. (Y/n) could coil away in disgust right now, and he wouldn’t care. He got his kiss. A kiss that tasted like Pocky and (Y/n). A kiss he’s been waiting for for forever. His, and (Y/n’s), first.

Kuroo was the first to pull away. Half lidded and breathless, he sat back on his ass with a sigh. (Y/n) started to open his eyes, when Yachi’s scrambled to cover them.

“D-don’t look..! Please! I-I’m-uh, I’m still...embarrassed..!” Yachi looked back at Kuroo, who seemed to have come back to his senses, and shuffled back into the spot he was in originally. Yachi crawled over back in front of (Y/n), and removed her hands gently. She placed them in her lap, looking down with a blush no one in that room could tell was genuine or real good acting.

(Y/n) opened his eyes softly. His smile returned to his swollen lips, and he leaned his head on his palm. “That wasn’t so scary, right?”

(Y/n) clasped his hands together. “Congrats, you can officially say you stole (L/n) (Y/n’s) first kiss! Now you got something to brag about, huh, Yachi-san?” (Y/n) chuckled, still feeling the warmth of ‘Yachi’s’ lips pressed against his.

Yaku scoffed quietly. “Yeah, aha. ‘Yachi’ stole your first kiss.” He earned a flick to the forehead by Kiyoko.

Yachi stood up abruptly. “I-I’m gonna go! Uh-..brag...to my...f-friends.”

“Don’t go spreading rumors about me though.” (Y/n) looked up at Yachi, who squeaked out a “Yessir!” In reply. Kiyoko stood up aswell.

“I’m going to go with Hitoka-chan. See you three.” Kiyoko walked over to Yachi, seemingly ushering her out the door discreetly and shooting Yaku a look. Yaku stood up aswell.

“Well I don’t wanna be in here with you two. Pretty Boy and Docosahexaenoic Face. I’m gonna go see what Kai or Shibayama-kun is doing.”

Yaku shoved his hands in his pockets and walked out of the room, leaving Kuroo and (Y/n) sitting there alone.

Kuroo laid down on the floor next to (Y/n), resting his arms on the back of his neck like a cushion. (Y/n) sat there placidly, smiling at his reward that was the Pocky box.

(Y/n) fished a stick out, and munched on it happily. Kuroo looked at (Y/n), and closed his eyes with a smirk.

“So, how’d it feel having your first kiss with a cute girl?“

(Y/n) hummed, and took another bite of his snack.

“You’re not a bad kisser, Tetsu.”

Kuroo choked on his words. (Y/n) crunched on another Pocky stick. Kuroo sputtered and shot back up, staring at (Y/n) with wide, embarrassed eyes.

“Wh-h-how-wait-“

“To be honest you would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for, hm, 3 things.”

(Y/n) held up a single Pocky stick. “Number one. When our hands touched. It was pretty obvious your hand was too big to be Yachi-san’s, so that was a bit suspicious.”

Kuroo opened his mouth to say something. (Y/n) pulled out another Pocky stick.

“Two. When we broke the kiss, I heard you grunt. You would have literally no reason to do that unless you, per se, break a kiss and need to breathe in. And your voice, again, is too deep to be Yachi-san’s.”

Kuroo couldn’t do anything but helplessly stare at him, as he pulled out a third Pocky stick.

“Three.” (Y/n) set all three biscuits into Kuroo’s lap, to which he absentmindedly picked up. “You don’t really think I couldn’t see you? My eyes were open right up until we started eating the Pocky, Tetsurou. I was squinting...and you all were acting suspicious, so how could I not? Not to mention how weird it was for you to be sitting so conveniently close to me and Yachi-san.”

“If anything, if you weren’t planning something and you actually just wanted to watch, you would’ve sat near Yaku-kun once you saw him.”

Kuroo averted his eyes and broke a Pocky stick with his teeth, chewing on it to fill his mouth and prevent him from saying something stupid.

“And, even if none of those things happened,” (Y/n) pulled out another stick, this time twirling it around in his fingers. “I heard you discussing your ‘plan’ earlier in the kitchen. You really need to work on your volume, like Yaku-kun said.”

(Y/n) stood up, stretching his arms with a small groan. All Kuroo could do was stare up at him dumbly. He almost had a perfect scheme. Almost.

(Y/n) turned his head around, his back still facing Kuroo. “Next time you wanna kiss, buy me dinner and we can suck spaghetti noodles until it meets in the middle. Y’know, like in that one movie.”

(Y/n) waved around his Pocky box in farewell. “I’m gonna go see what Kenma and Hinata-kun are doing. Later, Tetsu.”

(Y/n) timpered off, shutting the door behind him. Kuroo stared at the door blankly.

“(Y/n), you sneaky bastard.”

——————

Happy new year!!

#haikyuu x male reader #hq x y/n #hq x you #hq x male reader #haikyuu boys #kuroo x male reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x you #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro imagine #haikyuu kuroo tetsuro #tetsurou x reader #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 1: At First Sight

Pairing: hitman!jk x female reader

Genre: E2L, romance, angst, drama

WC: 4.5k

Warnings for this chapter: alcohol consumption, language, stalking kind of? I think that's all lol. Pls let me know if there is anything else I should put.

tag list; @teresaisla @hopekookies @moonchild1 @barbellastyles98 @ggukkieland @mwitsmejk @yukiehyukie

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn't sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn't his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger. 

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A bright smile graces your features as you tuck the little star-shaped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into a tiny container, just barely getting two of them to fit as you squish them down a tad bit in order to get the lid clipped on.

Then you grab a little tangerine and a cheese stick to drop into your lunch bag along with the sandwiches, counting the number of items aloud to yourself as they make themselves at home and then you zip it all up.

"Th-There we go!" You lift your lunch for the day in triumph.

Your phone startles you when it starts to ring, then you grapple in your purse to find it. You pull it out and answer right before the last ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, girl! Are you ready to go? I'm downstairs." The voice of your best friend comes through the phone and you look at the clock on your microwave. You stare at the little black screen, confused as to why the time isn't showing up before remembering that you were never able to figure out how to display the clock when you bought the microwave three years ago. So, you hold your phone out to look at the time.

6:32

"Oh geez! I didn't r-realize the time. I'll be d-down in a minute, k?" You say, earning a lighthearted laugh from the girl on the other end.

"Take your time, hun. I'm not in any rush."

You thank her quickly and hang up, then you run to your room to grab your favorite pink cardigan and throw it on over your white shirt. As you're hurrying out and grabbing your lunch, you stumble and knock your knee into an open lower cabinet that you had forgotten to close the previous night after pulling a pan from it to make dinner.

"Ouch!" You hiss in pain and rub the sore spot, although it does nothing to ease the ache. Then you grab your purse and run outside, almost forgetting to lock the door. But you remember just in time and clumsily lock it before rushing down the stairs leading to the parking lot of your apartment complex.

Your best friend, Mina, is laughing. You can see her through the windshield as she waves to you. Lifting a hand to wave back, you don't realize in time that your arms are full. You drop your lunchbox and have to crouch to get it again, only taking up even more of your time.

But Mina finds it hilarious and tells you so as soon as you slide into the car and fumble with your seatbelt to get it buckled.

"Honestly, ___. I can't believe you're still single. If I wasn't straight as a board, I'd be head over heels for you and all your shenanigans." She states in a matter-of-fact tone as she pulls out of the parking spot.

A blush creeps up your neck and you try to laugh it off, "D-Don't be silly." You whisper, turning your gaze outside to look at the fluffy white clouds decorating the sky beautifully. You smile and lean your forehead against the glass as you imagine lying on a soft cloud, just drifting in the air.

"If you c-could go anywhere at all, where would y-you go?" You ask Mina suddenly, turning to her. Her eyes are focused on the road but she bites her lip in thought at your question. "Mm, probably Italy. What about you?" She's used to your sudden questions and ramblings, so she smiles when you start to go off.

"I'd wanna go up in the c-clouds. I wanna sit on one and maybe even see a r-rainbow up close! I wonder if I could slide down the rainbow..." Your brows furrow in deep thought. "Or would I f-fall?" You turn to her again and she glances over to see your signature puppy dog eyes that you use when you are either confused, upset, or want something.

Mina turns back to the road, a tiny ache in her heart that she hides with a bright smile, "Girl, you would ride that rainbow straight down into a pot of gold!"

"Really?" Your eyes widen and you feel your heart lift at the image.

She nods and you giggle happily, "You can come w-with me, Mina." You say confidently, your gaze turning back to the sky. "We can sleep in the clouds and slide down rainbows for the rest of f-forever."

"Sounds like a deal."

By the time Mina pulls up to the school, you've discussed everything you'd do up in the clouds and what you'd eat when you're hungry (stardust, you've decided, is the best meal anyone could eat.)

You unbuckle and gather your things. Then you remember something and turn back to Mina, "Oh yeah. W-When are you leaving on your business trip?" You ask a tinge of sadness in your voice.

"This weekend," Mina says solemnly. "I'm sorry I won't be able to drive you for a while. I'll be gone for a month this time."

That makes your heart sting but you manage a small smile, "D-Don't worry about me. I can walk! I'm gonna m-miss you though."

"I'll miss you too, buttercup. We'll hang out this Friday night before I leave the next day. How about that?" Mina asks kindly.

You nod enthusiastically and she smiles, "Ok, get your butt in there before you're late! The bell rings in half an hour and you can't be late on a Monday." She urges you and you nod, hopping out of the car and thanking her again for the ride, reassuring her that you'll walk home from work today.

You blow her a kiss and she laughs as you turn and hurry into the school.

You're all set up only a few minutes before the kids are supposed to arrive, so you go onto Pinterest and look through your fairytale boards, feeling a little spark of joy in your chest.

A couple of minutes later, the kids start streaming through the door, greeting you with the same amount of enthusiasm as you greet them. Your kiddos love you so much that all the other teachers are jealous and they let you know it every day. Of course, you have the sweetest kindergarteners and they're always the best for you.

"Hello, Teacher! Good morning Miss ___! Teacher, look at my new haircut!"

"Hi, Jina! Hello M-Minhhyuk! Kun, your new haircut l-looks so good!" All the kids have bright smiles on their faces by the time they've settled in their seats.

You always start the day off by getting everyone to stand and do a few stretches, then you sing the nursery rhymes you learned yesterday and start learning a new one. You honestly have as much fun as the kids during the school day.

"Ok, l-little ducklings, have a seat!" You get their attention and they immediately oblige. Next, is the alphabet that you guys have been working on since the beginning of the year. Every little one sings it perfectly all the way through and you give them a round of applause and they each get a little punch in their reward cards.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly, with only one temper tantrum thrown and that was resolved quickly.

It's nearing the end of the school day and the kids are all playing during their free time. You're sitting with Ae-Cha, a small and fairly quiet girl, playing with colorful blocks; the both of you competing to see who can build the highest tower. You've learned that she responds well to playing games when there isn't too much talking involved.

You're constantly glancing around the room to make sure everyone is safe and playing nicely and you're always pleased. They've all improved so much since the beginning of school back in September. It's June now and they've all learned their alphabet and how to play nicely with their new friends, along with so many other things. They've really made you so proud this year. You can even hear them reciting the alphabet and nursery rhymes to each other as they play.

Your heart warms at the sound of tiny voices filling the room as they sing. Then you glance at the clock and realize the bell will be ringing in a few minutes. So, you declare Ae-Cha the winner with her foot-high tower of blocks and she beams proudly. Then, you get up and clap three times, "One, two, th-three! Eyes on me!" You singsong, then smile when the kids immediately respond by clapping twice and shouting "One, two! Eyes on you!"

"G-Great attention today, everyone! Alright, the bell will ring soon. Who can tell me w-what that means? What are we doing n-now?" A few little hands go up and you point to the little boy that raised his first, "Yes, Joon Woo?"

"We...Uhm...time to clean up toys...Uhm..." You smile to encourage him and he finishes cutely, "Time uh, to clean up our toys and pack bags."

"Yes! Thank you, Joon Woo. It is t-time for us to clean up and make sure our bags are packed up and ready for h-home!"

The kids start to pick up their toys as you put on the cleaning song that you play every day for them. You all sing along until the room is all tidied and their bags are packed with their homework papers.

You always give them little mazes to do for homework to get their little brains to learn to concentrate, along with instructions on what to draw to show the class the next day. Today, their homework is an extremely easy maze, a coloring page with the alphabet and instructions to draw themselves doing their favorite activity. The kids always love drawing pictures and sharing them with the class and it's a good ice breaker for the shy ones at the beginning of the day.

You always have less and easier homework for the kids on Mondays and Fridays, it just seems fair to you that way. You also feel like it's good for kids to express themselves and be able to share what they like and dislike. You've found drawing helps with communication and creativity for the kids in your class.

The sound of the bell ringing makes a few of you jump, then you hurry to the door. "Alright, ducklings! T-Time to line up!" A few of the kids make quacking sounds as they line up, giggling and talking to their friends.

You smile and open up the door, holding it as the kids walk out in a straight line, some of them still quacking like little ducks.

You lead the kids to the front of the school and make sure they get into the correct line for the bus if they take it. You wave goodbye to them as the kids that take the bus climb on and they run to a window to wave back to you.

The rest of the kids that are left are soon picked up by their parents or siblings. You wave to Ae-Cha, the last student to be picked up. She smiles shyly and waves back before hurrying after her big sister.

After that, you go back to your classroom and finish a few things before packing up to go home. As you're leaving your classroom, you run into one of the other teachers coming from his own room.

"Oh, h-hello Mr. B-Baek!" You bow, missing the ugly sneer on his face as you smile brightly at him. He pushes his glasses further up his nose as he scrutinizes you with his beady little eyes. "You don't belong here, Miss ___." He snaps.

You look at him in confusion, "I-I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"I've waited the entire school year to say this to you. But now that we are nearing the end, I think you should know that you have no business being a teacher at this school. You ought to make the right decision to discontinue your work here." Mr. Baek watches your face fall with a sick sense of satisfaction.

"B-But, why?" You ask, still not understanding.

"First of all, you're inexperienced. You just got out of college last year, am I right?"

You nod uncertainly.

"You're still a child. Why should a twenty-two-year-old girl come marching in here and take a spot that should have been given to someone with more experience? And especially someone like you." He glares at you before turning on his heel and walking away briskly.

Someone like me? What does he mean by that?

You watch after him, feeling a tiny pinch in your chest. You aren't sure what he means, but whatever he's talking about, it sounds like he believes you shouldn't have become a teacher at all. At this school or another. You'll have to ask Mina later because you really have no idea where his rant came from.

Is there something wrong with you becoming a teacher?

You shake your head and laugh it off, "He's probably just had a bad day." You tell yourself as you make your way out of the school.

As you walk home, you sing quietly along with the song in your headphones, a little skip to your step.

You never notice the dark figure across the street, his eyes trained on your every move.

One day earlier...

Jungkook groans as he tosses and turns in bed, searching for his phone to turn the alarm off. He finally finds it and hits dismiss, tossing the phone back down and rubbing his eyes with a tired yawn.

After another minute he sits up and looks out the window, frowning at the sun seeping in and pooling across his floor in a golden river. He stares at a small bird that lands on his windowsill until it flies away.

Jungkook yawns again and reaches up to rub his eyes for the second time. After a few minutes, he's finally able to drag himself out of bed and into the shower. He almost falls asleep again in there, but he manages to make it out after half an hour.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he makes his way to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of soju that's sitting on his tiny dining table to take a small swig from, finishing off what he'd left last night after his third bottle right before he passed out in bed.

He sighs and grabs a bagel, searching for the cream cheese he swears he saw in his fridge last night. A small smile appears on his lips when he finds it. He snatches it and makes sloppy work of spreading it on his bagel before tossing the leftover trash onto his counter and plopping onto the couch, snarfing down the first half of his bagel in thirty seconds.

Jungkook sighs through his nose as he tiredly chews his breakfast, then he glances down and sees the file he'd left open on his coffee table last night. He swallows the bite he has in his mouth and leans forward to read over it.

Y/L/N Y/N...

Why is that name so familiar?

He shakes his head and flips the file closed, then he leans back on the couch, wanting to spend his Sunday relaxing before he has to get to work on this case. He isn't going to think about it again until tonight.

Jungkook settles down and lays his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

He won't think about it.

Jungkook lays there for a minute, then he opens his eyes and lifts his head, glaring at the closed file on the little table.

He grunts in annoyance and drops the other half of his bagel onto the table, grabbing the file angrily and sitting back again. He opens it and starts to reread everything he's read many times since Friday. There's just something that has felt off since he met with Mr. Ling, but he can't put his finger on what it is.

Jungkook squints at the name he's read a thousand times.

Y/L/N...Y/N...

"Ugh." He rolls his eyes, frustrated at not being able to remember where he's heard that name before. Then he looks at the occupation.

Teacher at Sunshine Kindergarten.

His brows furrow again, much like they have each time he's read this. He's never had a hit on a teacher before, let alone a Kindergarten teacher. That's such an odd target...

Most of his targets in the past have been sleazy business owners, rapists, leaders of gangs that have terrorized neighborhoods for years, even other hitmen. He's never had a problem with those jobs, but there's something about this one that's telling him to be careful.

Maybe it's because he knows nothing about his client, except for the large sum of money he must have due to the pay he's been promised. Other clients of his were more than happy to explain why they wanted him to do what he does. They never paid him until after the job was done, either.

That leads Jungkook to believe that this guy (or girl) is desperate for his services, convincing him to do it with payment before and after. Almost as if Jungkook would refuse after he found out who the target was...

Jungkook flips the page and scrutinizes the picture of the target.

She's very simple looking, Jungkook thinks. The girl in the picture is wearing a white flowy skirt with a blue blouse that covers her whole arms and white chunky tennis shoes. Her hair is in a low ponytail and it seems like she has headphones in as she walks down the street. There's a tiny smile on her face as if she's thinking about something that makes her happy.

Jungkook doesn't find her particularly beautiful, but she isn't ugly either. She's just very...

Simple...

Jungkook shakes his head, his eyes going over the photo and the girl's smile one more time. Maybe she's a double agent? Or a part of the mafia disguising herself as a school teacher?

He can't figure it out.

It doesn't matter much though, the job seems simple enough and the pay is more than he's ever gotten. After looking through everything once more, Jungkook closes the file and grabs his bagel, quickly eating it before getting up to get dressed for the day.

That night, Jungkook lays out his outfit for the next day.

It's all black, but not suspicious-looking. After all these years, he's been able to design the perfect outfits to avoid attention being drawn to him and simple enough so that no one would think much of him if he were to catch anyone's attention.

It might seem simple, but he prides himself on being able to get each part of his job perfectly designed for each case he gets.

Heaven knows it's taken him years to accomplish.

After he's gotten that all figured out, he walks over to his closet and pulls out a small safe. Setting it on the bed, he swiftly unlocks it and looks inside. He pulls out a few things, examining each of them before he sets them one by one onto his bed. Once he's got the items all laid out, he steps back to look it all over.

"I should wait to decide..." Jungkook mumbles to himself. After a minute of staring at everything, he nods and gathers it all up, carefully putting it back into the safe and locking it tightly. Then he brings it back to his closet and shoves it into the darkest corner where it lives.

That can wait.

He pulls his phone out and checks the time.

11:45

"Damn it," Jungkook mutters. He had wanted to get some sleep earlier tonight since he would have to be awake early tomorrow.

He changes into some shorts, then he yanks his shirt off and immediately climbs into bed, not even bothering to shower or brush his teeth. He really couldn't care less with how tired he is. And he hasn't even started yet.

His alarm blares at an ungodly hour as Jungkook groans loudly, resisting the temptation to chuck his phone across the room.

"I hate Mondays." He mutters angrily, setting his phone back on the nightstand far from gracefully.

He miserably drags himself out of bed and into the shower, going through his morning motions almost like a robot. His brain isn't fully awake and it's just on autopilot right now.

An hour later, he's just finishing his coffee, his eyes no longer squinting in exhaustion. Jungkook unceremoniously drops his coffee cup into the sink, promising himself he'll clean it up later, then he sighs as he grabs his black boots, walking to the couch to sit and pull them on. After he's done lacing them up, he grabs the file he's been avoiding like the plague since yesterday morning.

He mutters to himself, looking at the name on the page.  

"I know that name."

Then he smacks his forehead to get himself to focus again. He stands up and folds the page with the girl's information and then her picture and tucks them into the inside pocket of his black jacket.

Time to get to work.

Jungkook spots the girl almost instantly, the second she steps out of a black car. He glances at the driver, but can only see a person with shoulder length black hair waving. The girl from the picture has a bunch of things in her arms as she blows a kiss to the short-haired driver.

Jungkook has been here since six-thirty in the morning and just as he was beginning to think she called in sick for work, he's finally gotten a chance to see this girl in person. She looks exactly as he remembers from her picture...plain.

She's even wearing the same white skirt and chunky tennis shoes, although this time she has a different top. Her hair is in a high ponytail this time.

"Well, ___. Nice to meet you." Jungkook mutters, watching closely.

After a moment, the black car drives away as the girl scurries into the school, tripping on the last step before straightening herself out again, then disappearing from his sight.

Huh.

Jungkook stares at the door for another minute, then he makes his way to the stores nearby, knowing he's gonna have to wait until the girl leaves. School for the young kids typically gets out at around three-thirty. So, he'll have to be back here around then.

He's definitely going to need to find something to do to kill time.

Jungkook heaves a sigh of relief when he hears the school bell finally ring.

He hurries from the clothes store he was browsing and down the street a block until he's almost across the street from the school. He finds a good spot where he can sift through some newspapers at a little stand and still have an eye on the school.

After a minute, he sees a long line of tiny children coming out from the school. The girl is with them and smiling brightly. Jungkook thinks he can hear some of the kids quacking like ducks. He tries not to look puzzled as he goes back to talking to the person working the paper stand. Jungkook makes small talk with the old man, still keeping an eye on the girl across the street as she waves to each child that leaves.

If she's some mafia boss disguised as a kindergarten teacher, she's one hell of a good actress.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The old man inquires curiously.

Jungkook laughs softly and shakes his head, "No. I've been so busy with my work I never got the chance to date."

The man nods knowingly. They chat a bit more and Jungkook finds himself trying to balance talking to the man and watching the girl.

"Well, did you want to buy a paper for the day?"

Jungkook turns his gaze back to the old man and nods, "Yes. Two, please. My neighbor would probably enjoy one as well."

The old man laughs and nods, taking the money Jungkook hands him and giving him two papers, "What a kind young man you are. Someday you'll find a lovely young lady, don't you worry, son. You will realize that work is important, but love is even more so."

Jungkook just laughs and thanks the man, then he opens the paper as he slowly starts walking, pretending to read.

He stops at a bench and sits down to wait. The girl went back into the school a few minutes ago, hopefully, she won't be in there long.

Luck seems to be with him today, because, after only about five minutes, Jungkook sees a familiar white skirt flowing as she skips down the steps of the school.

He folds his paper carefully, tucking it into his back pocket. The girl puts little earbuds in and immediately starts to mouth the words of whatever song she's listening to. Jungkook tugs his black baseball cap down a little more as he follows on the other side of the street.

The girl has a bag decorated with cupcakes and cookies that bounces up and down as she dances a little.

What is she, twelve?

Jungkook watches in confusion as the girl stops to pet a dog, giggling when the puppy licks her hand. She straightens up, then after another minute, she seems to get distracted by something else.

Jungkook looks carefully and notices she's picked up a flower that was laying on the ground, seemingly trampled on. She gently holds it in her hands as she continues on her way. It goes on like this for the next fifteen minutes, the girl waving to people and smiling almost the whole way.

By the time she is walking up the steps to her apartment, Jungkook is dying to just get back home. That must have been the longest most annoying walk he's ever taken while tracking someone. The girl had stopped over twenty times, distracted by something else each time, he's sure of it.

Just to be sure, Jungkook lingers around the apartment building a little longer, but when it seems apparent that the girl is going to be staying there, he finally heads home.

Geez, Jungkook thinks in annoyance as he climbs the stairs that lead to his own apartment. His head is spinning with so many questions while he unlocks his door and yanks his boots off with a groan.

But when he plops down onto his bed in his tiny studio apartment, he just stares at the ceiling, his mind suddenly blank apart from one question.

Who in the hell would put a hit on this girl?

Copyright © @writemywaytoyourheart 2021

Next

a/n: I hope you guys are liking the setup so far, thank you for all the positive reactions from the prologue!

#jeon jungkook #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #bts reactions #bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts jungkook angst #bts angst #jungkook scenarios #BTS jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fic #hitman!jk #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts x reader #bts x y/n #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #kim namjoon

[marky4l]

Step by Step / Mark Lee

step by step / mkl

pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

From an innocent childhood friendship to a juvenile high school rivalry to a forced pairing for a Psychology paper, it seems you and Mark just can’t avoid each other. But something’s a little different now.

genre: fluff, angst (a little bit), suggestive themes, childhood friends (barely mentioned!) to enemies to lovers, college!au

notes: lia yeonjun chan hyuck jeno all make tiny appearances 

word count: 17.2k 

hi!!! this is my first work nd I’m really excited to put this out I’d looove if you could give it a read :^) hound me on my inbox if u wanna i take anything

“Remember when we were best friends in fifth grade?”

His voice is a little quiet, and there’s a very obvious undertone of boredom, but you hum softly anyway, nodding, as if to question why you would ever forget. Fifth grade was a suburban brew of Star Wars marathons, figuring out the world, and Harry Potter merchandise littering your house. Fifth grade was lemonade and oatmeal, knitted sweaters, and sneaking into your mom’s vanity to swipe her makeup. And fifth grade was Mark—bright eyed, geeky Mark, with his Death Star replica and weird electronica music. 

Mark, who had an affinity with Troy from High School Musical and Spiderman, and wanted to be just like them. Mark, who would show up grinning to your front door everyday, pie dish in his nimble grip. He was the one who had opened a lemonade stand at the corner of your block so he could buy you the Gryffindor scarf you’d been nagging your mom about the entire holiday season. He was the one who learned the chords to your favorite Jonas Brothers song and sang it to you each time you requested it.

“Yes, I do,” you answer instead, clearing your throat. 

You attempt to push down all the memories that just ran through your head and adjust the grip you have on your pen. “Well,” Mark continues, “that was ages ago. Beats me why it ever happened.” 

The timidity is replaced with a tidal wave of teasing, and the annoyance that had disappeared is beginning to crawl all over you. Again. You roll your eyes and pull up the slides your professor had assigned. “Beats me why we even ended up in the same university, let alone the same class,” you jab, “if you thought I forgot about how you outright failed our Spanish classes in high school, I didn’t.”

Your friendship with Mark had reached its unfortunate demise to the hands of middle school, where you had branched out with your interests and began to stick to societal (as societal as school can get) norms. He had joined the geeky, cool kids; you hadn’t joined a specific social circle, but you had a best friend, Lia, and you were generally good with everybody. 

Somehow, despite you both being in good graces with everyone, you had a deep-seated dislike for one another that stemmed from an intense academic rivalry. Specifically, the competition to become school council president. That had ended now, seeing as though you were both in college, but the abrasiveness of your banter had never worn off.

“Oh, because you were so good at Physics?” he says, voice even. His brow is raised. “We all have our strong suits, you know. You’re one to talk.” You decide to pay him no mind, instead jotting down the criteria for your final project in Psychology 1—something about the stages of grief. You’re supposed to relate it to a different human process and show how they fit with one another. 

It’s absolute fucking bullshit, and the fact that Mark Lee became your partner among a hundred students is beyond you. Absolutely beyond you. 

He nears your screen, reading the content of your project, eyes squinted—you’d noticed his lack of decent eyesight years ago, but it seemingly hadn’t improved. “Relate the stages of grief…hold up, what? That’s difficult as hell. What are we supposed to do, lose a loved one?” You roll your eyes, turning to him. “No, Mark. The point is to find another process that happens gradually and relate it to this—denial, bargaining, anger. Get it?”

He stares back at you. “No.”

You groan audibly, turning back to your notebook. “This is impossible. Can we just switch partners so I won’t have to deal with you?” He smirks, kicking his feet up on the library table. Absently, you note how nice his sneakers look. Reclining onto the seat, he shuts his eyes as if to contemplate. 

“I heard through the birdvine our professor’s the type to pair up people she thinks would look good together for shits and giggles. Girls and boys, boys and boys, you name it. Johnny”—he’s referring to a guy who’s a year above yours, studying Biology—“tells me over five couples have been born out of this class. Isn’t that nice?” You scoff, scrolling mindlessly through the slides to keep yourself distracted. 

“It really is. A shame we won’t be adding to that list, because I can’t fucking stand you.” He laughs loudly, the vibration of it remaining in the deadly silent air. “I can stand fucking you, though,” he says, and then, before you can even blush, “All jokes. Don’t get your hopes up, ‘kay?” He’s quick to get up, just as flustered as you are at the uncharacteristic phrase that just left his mouth. He collects his jacket and jogs out of the library with a small, half-assed bye under his breath.

—

Lia’s eyes bore into yours. “He actually said that? I’m telling you, he’s some weird kinky guy under that whole cool geek persona. High school Mark would never have. Oh my god. He’s a furry—he’s a furry!” She flops back onto your bed, laughing. You poke at her waist in protest. 

“It’s because he’s surrounded by too many weird classy fuckboys. You know, those that think that they’re all that because they haven’t roofied a girl.” You’re half-joking, and you’re really only referring to maybe two guys you’ve happened to see Mark with. As if to read your mind, Lia continues. “Hey, I heard some of them are okay. They’re not, like…those ‘nice guys’, if you get me.”

“I do,” you quip. “But I guess I’m just trying to find a way to justify the whole 360 in Mark. I mean, in high school, he was still nerdy—well, you know. Shy. But jump to sophomore year of uni and he’s suddenly some…” You rack your head for a proper term. “Sex god?” your friend asks, holding in a laugh. “Oh, eat shit,” you fire back, “really, eat shit. And while you’re at it, feed me some, too, because I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to turn in at the end of the term. Like, Jes—”

There’s a faint knock at the door, and then. “Lia? It’s—uh, it’s me, Daniel? Er, Daniel Choi.” Your wide eyes can’t possibly match Lia’s as she tugs on a decent-looking pullover and puts it on. As she swings the door open, you manage to sufficiently hide yourself under your duvet and attempt to hear their conversation. 

“You know, it’s okay if you leave out the whole…saying your full name at the door part. Trust me…I know you,” she jokes, and you hear him laugh before you detect the crinkling of a plastic bag. “Chinese. Uh, I bought some extra for your best friend, because I’m not gonna pretend I don’t see the sentient blob on the bed.”

You pull the blanket off and smile sheepishly. “Hey, Daniel,” you say, “thanks for the food. I owe you an empty room next time, I swear by it. It’ll be easy, since I’m gonna be”—you heave yourself off the bed and onto the floor, where they’re both sitting—“holed up at the library for the next few weeks.” 

Lia nods, chewing her chow mein, and then when she’s done, she explains to Daniel your whole huge Psychology end-of-term paper about stages and grief and whatever, oh also she’s partnered with Mark Lee, this guy that we both know from high school, and she dislikes his guts, oh you know him? 

“Wait. You know him?” You repeat, and Daniel nods, ruffling his black mullet. “His room’s, like, three away from mine. He’s studying Theoretical Physics, right? Yeah, he’s always in his room doing school shit, but every weekend he’s out with the upperclassmen. He’s probably out now, ‘cause it’s Friday. How he even charmed them, though, is a mystery.”

Mid-dumpling, you roll your eyes. “Y’know, the hardest part is being partnered with him. But also, even finding what kind of gradual process to relate denial and anger too is weirdly hard. It feels like I could find something, but I haven’t gotten it…quite…” you trail off, your eyes landing on Lia and Daniel across you—they’re smiling softly at each other, and you distinguish their fingers interlocking quietly, as if you wouldn’t notice. 

“…yet. Except maybe I have. How would you want to participate in my end-of-term paper?” Their gazes turn to yours, and you nod frantically. “Oh my god, I’m a genius! Seriously! Falling in love! Yes! It’s denial—anger—whatever, whatever! It makes perfect sense. The end is acceptance, too! Oh god, Li, it’s perfect. I will owe you for life if you help me out.”

“Wait, what? You dove straight into it, what—recap, please,” Lia asks, and you compose yourself before explaining giddily. 

“Falling in love. It happens gradually, and we can compare it to the stages of grief. Seeing as you and Daniel are headed right there, we can use you as some test subjects. It’s not required to have respondents or subjects, really, it’s just an extensive paper, but it might help get the grade up. This is gonna be great, and if you ever wanna back out, you can, because it’s not mandatory.” Lia and Daniel meet eyes briefly, and then slowly, nod. “Okay, that’s pretty smart,” Daniel says, “I’m up for it. Are you?” Lia nods, slowly and hesitantly, and you smile widely. “You two just saved my Psych grade. I’ll be at Giselle’s tonight. Just…not on my bed.” You grab your keys and phone and bound out of your room, straight into the elevator at the end of the hall.

The elevator door nearly closes when a Converse-clad foot steps in, and your eyes rake up the figure, eventually landing on his face. 

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble, “you must be kidding me.” 

Mark enters the elevator with a small, teasing smile, hands tucked into his jacket’s pockets. “Hey, dude, what’s up? Was on your floor on my stop down to get some money Lucas owed me,” he says, “this is actually a godsend, because my genius brain found us a project idea. Relate grief to something else gradual? Easy as pie. Falling in lo—” 

You cut him off before he can finish, “Falling in love, right. I thought of it first, earlier,” you say profusely, absently noting the pettiness in your tone. He whistles. “No need to get all possessive over an idea the previous classes have used before, man.” You continue, ignoring him. “Whatever. Lucky for our grades, I went the extra mile to get us some test subjects. Do you know the two Chois? Lia and Daniel?” 

He nods once, “Yeah, their PDA on Instagram is fucking sickening, but I see your technique, and I like that—we get some extra data from their god awful PDA.” You nod once, and he continues. “It’s nearing 11 on a Friday night. Whose party are you headed to?”

“You’re welcome for the test subjects,” you gripe. “Anyway, I was so giddy about coming up with it, I just left them to…well, fornicate. As a compromise for being lab rats. I texted my…” you realize you’re starting to share too much to a guy you typically dislike talking to, and then there’s a silence in the air that’s painfully awkward. 

“You texted your…?” Mark asks. “My friend, but she’ll be home at 1AM, so I’m out to kill time. No parties, just…I dunno.” He nods again, and then the elevator lets out a blissful ding. You step out simultaneously, and then he faces you. “Look, it’s freezing out, you’re in shorts and a puffer coat, and it’s three hours to 1AM, so I doubt you’ll get far.” You scoff at his words despite feeling your legs shake from the breeze outside. “I’ll be fine, dumbass.”

“Just concerned,” he says, in a tone that sounds more blank than annoyed, but he turns and heads toward the door anyway. He swivels back around briefly. “It’s in Johnny’s apartment. Just a couple people, if you get bored freezing.” He jogs outside then, and you inwardly appreciate the small gesture, but again, annoyance returns just as quickly. You linger a bit before heading out yourself, walking briskly to a local Japanese restaurant. You consider this an opportunity to have some me time, some rest after a shitty week in university. Lasting ’til 1AM alone and entertained would not at all be a problem. 

You last one ramen bowl and head to Johnny’s apartment.

—

When Johnny Suh answers the door, he’s clad in a makeshift shower curtain gown of sorts, and is flushed and very buzzed all over. He hikes up the top to cover his chest and laughs profusely. “Did Mark invite you?” Behind him is a sizeable group of just about twenty people, which looks like forty in a cramped communal space. You’d been here before—Johnny likes to invite just about anyone to get stoned and listen to Kid Cudi on Fridays, and you had pushed Lia to accompany you before. 

You distantly spot the kitchenette, the small living room, and then the two bedroom doors opposing each other. “The rule was to show up wearing something not marketed as clothing, but Mark didn’t follow the rules, so. Anyway, you’re off scot-free, too…” he pauses, “…if you take off the puffer coat. We’ve got heating, anyway. Free booze and weed, too.” You figure being in a flimsy tank top isn’t so bad—you’re sure half the people here are already getting laid or trying to, and nobody would really pay attention to you.

You shrug off the coat as Johnny steps aside to let you in, hugging it close to your body and navigating your way to the kitchen. The granite counters are filled with various bottles of booze, and you also note the cigarettes and blunts lining the island. You peruse the brands before settling on a sealed can of decidedly not-so-cheap-looking beer, and crack it open to take a swig. It’s warm and fucking disgusting, but there’s not much glitz in an “anything but clothing” off-campus college party anyway. 

There are several people scattered among the living area, passing around a blunt—another group is playing suck and blow. You make your way over to the cheap couch on the far end of the room, taking a seat on the arm and stretching out your hand to claim the blunt. It’s Jae who passes it to you—Jaehyun Jung, an upperclassman whose infamy (for wearing nothing but toilet paper and running through campus) greatly surpasses him. “Who are you?” he asks, and you holler your name back over the Kanye West song playing in the background. “Mark invited me,” you tack onto the end as compensation.

He nods in understanding, watching you take a drag and pass it back to him. He only hands it back, saying, “It’s nearly done, just finish it,” and getting up to probably get some booze or another blunt. 

You scan the area for a better place to cherish your weed, because you’re definitely not going to do it on the arm of a couch housing three couples making out to the high heavens. You spot an open window and a fire escape just beside the kitchen and walk over, ducking into the cool night air. It’s not quiet, it never is, and you treasure the peace that comes with the noise, closing your eyes and trying to milk the last few drags. All that is flushed down the drain when somebody kicks you out of your reverie and your last two drags are falling down, through the grills of the fire escape. 

“What the fuck?” You look up to meet, of course, Mark’s gaze, teasing and mischievous. 

“That wasn’t fucking funny, asshat. Get away from me.” You get up instantly, ducking back into the house and searching for your coat. It’s (very unfortunately) buried under a couple who have escalated from making out to borderline public indecency.

“Fuck it,” you mumble, swinging the door open and mentally preparing yourself for the cold once you get to the sidewalk, floors down. Mark follows suit, a laugh gracing the atmosphere around the two of you. “You know, I forgot how fun it is to make you pissed off. I did it all the time in eighth grade when I told our teacher you knew the solution to the Physics problems.” You’re fucking pissed. However petty, you’re fucking annoyed that you couldn’t finish the blunt, and you pay no attention to him. 

He badgers on anyway. “Hey—it was a mistake, I wanted to say hi to you.” You scoff, finally turning—“Why? Because we’re friends? We’re not. We’re Psych partners, we came from the same high school, we share a couple mutual friends. But you and I are not friends, not objectively, anyway. Please, Mark. I only just re-acquainted myself with you today, but, like, you’re already so annoying!” You’re at the elevator now, and when the doors slide open, you step inside and let them close at once. You barely catch the unreadable look on his face in your annoyance, and you lean against the wall, shutting your eyes and breathing heavily. 

How you’d even get to Giselle’s, or how you would wait out the remaining half-hour before she got home, was just up to whichever higher power happened to be witnessing you that night.

—

The door of your professor’s office closes with a saddening click. You stare back at her name, embossed on the wood in bold, in defeat, accepting your fate with a heavy heart. Just fifteen minutes prior, you had entered with a whole spiel prepared on how you just had to swap with somebody from your class so you wouldn’t have to work with Mark. This speech had occurred twice now—with your TA, and then once with your professor. This was your second chance, your redemption: so you prepared notes, you prepared convincing words—you had a point. 

But your professor simply shooed you away, muttering how she didn’t have time for you because she was going to be receiving hundreds of papers in a few weeks’ time from a different class and she, quite honestly, couldn’t be bothered. You bite your lip, thinking back to the previous Friday—it was nearing two weeks since your small outburst at Mark. Since then, you’d expected to build a silent rapport of just working, observing Lia and Daniel, and then parting. And that was almost it. You would show up to your so-called “lab rat sessions”, cup of warm caramel latte in hand, and work. 

Except Mark would constantly make noise, jeer, swipe your pen, and do other things that got on your nerves.

“You’re going to have to stop trying sometime,” Lia says, backhugging you. She’d been waiting outside. You let your head loll back onto her shoulder and whine. “Do you know when you’re so frustrated you want to cry? Yeah? That’s exactly how it is, Li. I can’t keep up with this for another two, three months. It’s like he’s not even, like, fuck, like he’s not even trying, y’know? We’re building the foundation of a pages-long paper. This isn’t some finals essay he can bullshit in three hours.” 

You groan as Lia pulls away from you, whirling you around to face her. “It’ll be fine, I swear to you. I’ll help out, anytime you need it. I promise. If I start hating Daniel, I’ll even pretend like I’m in love with him. Head over heels.” You let yourself laugh and pull out your phone as you two begin to walk towards your dorm.

She tsks. “We’re gonna have a thing tonight, right? Like, a lab rat session?”

You nod, squinting over your calendar app. “Yeah, at around 5:30 to 6. It’ll be quick, but Mark and I are gonna have to stay behind to divide the work for the general paper and then start. Hopefully we can get some outlining done by tonight…so don’t wait up,” you sigh. She smiles apologetically, pinching your waist affectionately. 

“Daniel and I will totally help you. He’s a Mark anti now. I told him about the party outburst thing.” You had sent her a slew of texts that night, and like every other story you had told (save for the most private ones), Daniel had caught wind of it. You’re half sure he was capable of blackmailing you at that point. “Good,” you shoot back, “I’m going to need all the anti-Mark force I can get.”

“Why?” You both turn to see Mark standing idly behind you. There’s a beat, and then: “You look like an inane stalker,” you retort, turning to continue walking. Lia follows suit—with the two of you, the vibe of the atmosphere would always come easy. If one was mad, the other would act mad, too. 

“Hey,” Mark repeats, falling into step beside you, “why do you need an anti-Mark force? Tell me.” At this point, your nerves are on fire and your blood is boiling, and you’re beginning to envision beating him up on the quad. “Mark, it’s been great, but we’re going to our dorm, and in case you don’t want to catch a restraining order, I suggest you get off at your floor instead of following us like a creep,” you say sweetly, quickening your steps until he’s far behind you, smiling. Fucking asshole. 

“I’ll see ya this evening, then,” he teases, and you grumble under your breath.

—

It’s 5:45 when Lia and Daniel leave the library—fifteen minutes early. You and Mark leave ten minutes later, hours before you were supposed to complete your task. You’re fuming, and for once, Mark has the decency to read the room and feel remorse. 

The evening had started off well enough, though—Lia and Daniel had showed up, did their thing, described what was happening, and you and Mark had noted it down. And then, well. Mark spilled water all over your planner, which, in hindsight, was definitely unintentional, but in the spur of the moment, you could do nothing but your natural—everybody’s natural—response to getting something precious ruined. You began to cry. “What the fuck,” you sniffled, “is wrong with you?!” You had shaken the majority of water off your planner, but any and all dates had been smudged and bled, and you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. “I know I called you annoying, but this is too far,” you had said, watching his face go from teasing to genuinely sorry. “Dude, it was accidenta—” 

“I don’t give a fuck—!” You quickly cut yourself off and wipe your tears when you see a young library assistant heading towards your table. Everybody composes themselves—Lia and Daniel straighten out the things on the surface and Mark sits up straight. “Hey,” he says. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but two students already came in with a noise complaint. We’re gonna have to ask you to,” he makes a gesture, “leave for now and come back tomorrow. Also, the puddle on the table…yeah. I’m really sorry.” He leaves, as if to make sure you have no other choice but to just go, and you slump back onto your chair in exhaustion. 

“You two can go ahead,” you hear Mark say, “I’m really sorry about this. We’ll clean up and apologize.” Faintly, you hear them get up, and you feel Lia’s hand squeeze yours as she promises a text and food later. You let your eyes remain shut, drinking in the quiet, trying to calm your inner turmoil.

Ten minutes later, when you’re out in the cold November air, Mark finally speaks. You had cleaned up and collected your things in silence. “I’m really sorry,” he says, “it was an accident, for real. I know I tease a lot, but, uh, I’m being serious. I would never have done that on purpose. I see you write shit on that thing a lot, so…I know how much you like it. Treasure it…? I don’t—whatever it is, I’m really sorry. Like, really. T’was an accident. If you need me to pay for it…” You shake your head softly, hugging your damp planner closer to your sweater-clad chest. “It’s okay. Thanks, anyway. For helping. I’ll email you what you have to do. Bye,” you turn and begin walking in the direction of your dorm. The sun is beginning to set, golden orange hues casting a vast array of colors onto the landscape of the city. You sigh softly, heart heavy with annoyance and exhaustion, and speed up before you start having a mini-breakdown.

—

Stage 1: Denial|

Your cursor blinks back at you as you finish typing in your outline for the introduction. It’s early into November, but already, you’ve had to shut your window to shielf yourself from the biting breeze outside. Across you, Lia applies mascara and talks to you. “What are you up to?” she asks, face contorted. 

“This godforsaken paper,” you mumble back, “just finished the introduction outline. I’m trying to give a loose definition for each gradual ‘stage.’” Shoving your Macbook off your lap, you get up to stretch. “Which I’ll probably find on Google Scholar, honestly. If you had to give me a definition—what’s denial?” 

She hums contemplatively, wand on lash, and then pipes up. “I think it’s just a stage where you can’t face the fact that you’re interested in that person. Like, why them? With Daniel, he wasn’t really my type. So the whole denial was denying I liked him, because…well, yeah. But I think it differs. Some people deny it because they’re shy, or ashamed, or weirded out that they even like them.”

You’ve had your fair share of crushes before, and sure enough, you had denied them all. But that was high school—college, though, had only brought short-lived flings and one night stands; you were an overachiever, much too committed to your own prosperity to pay mind to anybody else for too long. (Except Lia.) So you hadn’t really experienced the whole boyfriend-in-university thing—not that you particularly wanted to, but you were just human; you were curious. Lia had gotten it, and it looked wonderful. 

Speaking of—“So, a week without meeting Mark in person, huh? How is that going for you?” You scoff lightly, shaking your head as you pull your hair into a bun. “It’s going just fine. Dandy, actually. We work from our dorms and you and Daniel just update us. It’s a fine arrangement that I regret was not formulated sooner.” Lia nods in understanding, and you watch her pull on a top, mutter I’m out and head outside. For the fifth time this week, you’re alone in the dorm, with nothing but your Alexa playing SZA and your laptop. You pull it onto your lap again, staring at the boldface letters you had typed minutes prior: denial. You had no firsthand experience of being mature and going through denial; not in that way, anyway. You found it stupid that people even denied when it would be less painful to just admit interest.

You blow a raspberry as you research studies related to the term, bored out of your mind.

—

Two days later, you meet Mark again. 

You’d also had the pleasure of, for a minute or two, meeting a friend of his, Donghyuck Lee from Economics. He’s loud and amusing and, from your viewpoint, undeserving of somebody as boring as Mark. (That’s from a minute-long intercation.) 

At Lia’s insistence (and likely Daniel’s, too), you two met up to properly work and collaborate. In fear of being kicked out again, the four of you had chosen to meet somewhere else—a cafe off-campus affectionately named something along the lines of Saltwater Coffee. Naturally, after Donghyuck leaves, you find yourself sitting idly (awkwardly) beside Mark. “They won’t be long,” he says suddenly, “er, Daniel just texted me. They’re near.” You nod, pursing your lips, eyes trained onto your laptop. “We’re almost done formulating the denial stage and we can start outlining anger and bargaining. This’ll take about a week more—maybe mid to late November? Uh, I know it seems justifiable to slack off with the holidays,” you say, “but I really want us to finish this early. The due date’s in mid-February, so we can pass this on the 14th.” You turn to face him. “Get it? ‘Cause it’s Valentine’s Day.”

He nods. “Okay. No slacking. I get it. The Valentine’s is smart, too.” You nod back in silent understanding, turning back to type frantically into your keyboard. 

You hear the door jingle and Lia’s small “hey, guys”, so you look up and offer a smile. “I’m gonna go order everyone some coffee,” Mark says beside you, getting up and shuffling over to the counter. Daniel joins him, and Lia takes a seat across you, her smile knowing and apologetic. “Everything okay?” You blow a raspberry, but smile, anyway. “It’s not so bad. It could be better, but no more banter, just very annoyed auras…? You get it. It’s just been tough trying to divert my focus to this and ignore all the annoyance I feel.”

“Totally, I get that,” she says, “but all the same, I’m glad he’s matured a little bit and lessened all the ribbing.” You smile at that, agreeing, and then the conversation spirals into one about both of your days—“Professor Callahan totally pops a stiffy over Professor Michaelson”, “Daniel tells me Joshua cheated. Yes, on Jess!”, “Mia dropped out the other day and nobody knows why, hope she’s okay”—before Daniel and Mark return, coffee cups in hand. Mark places one next to you, and profusely, you look up at him, who’s just about to sit. 

“Thanks, but I don’t drink brewed coff—”

“It’s a caramel latte, the only thing you drink. Heard you say that to Lia once.” He takes a seat and pulls his laptop open. 

You stare at him, taking the cup and bringing it to your lips. Sure enough, it’s caramel—thick, and foamy, and sweet. You look up at him again, but he’s busy on Google Scholar, perusing through journals and studies. You shake your head before turning to Lia, who’s already looking at you, expression mirroring yours. 

Sweet, she mouths, but you purse your lips and choose not to acknowledge it. “Thanks,” you say quietly, and he hums to say you’re welcome. 

Your eyes flicker to him. He’s wearing a knitted sweater, but he’s pulled it up to his elbows. He’s typing quickly, and he can use all his fingers, too (you fail miserably at that), and his brows are furrowed as if he’s stressed, or in a hurry. You’ve never really noticed this much of Mark before. It’s probably, you think absently, because you’re confused. Puzzled at the gesture that you didn’t expect—at all.

After an hour, he angles his laptop to yours. “Nailed the intro. High five?” You open the Google doc on your own browser, and sure enough, the word count has increased monumentally. You can’t deny his knack for writing. “There are a few discrepancies in grammar,” you say instead. “But…okay. This is good.” You ignore his hand, in mid-air, and continue researching. 

Lia holds in a giggle, but turns back to Daniel, who, after fifteen minutes, turns to you and Mark. “Lia and I are heading out, guys,” he says, and Lia quickly tacks on. “Hey, if you need me to stay, I can,” she says quickly, but you smile and shake your head. 

“This might take a while. Go ahead. See ya at the dorm, Li. Bye, Daniel.” Mark bids his farewells, too, and they leave you alone in the cafe. It’s nearing a three hour crunch when he abruptly gets up to stretch, a low grunt leaving his lips. “I’m exhausted,” he sighs, “but at least we’re nearly done with this whole denial thing.”

“We’re actually only just starting,” you state, “this is going to go through a lot of editing and proofreading.” 

He chuckles and walks back to the counter to order something, and you shut your laptop to rest your eyes. Your glasses rest uncomfortably on the bridge of your nose as you breathe deeply. You lose track of time, and you open your eyes ten minutes later, fumbling to get up properly. There’s a panini beside your laptop, wrapped neatly in a tissue and laid on a plate. Mark’s is empty, save for crumbs, and he says nothing. 

“Get up,” he remarks teasingly after a while, and you groan in exhaustion. “I am, I’m up,” you mutter, straightening your back and flexing your neck. Inwardly, you wonder if you should thank him for the panini that is obviously yours that you obviously did not buy for yourself. 

Then Mark’s hand stretches out to take the panini, and he takes a bite. “Sorry,” he says, “I had to put my second sandwich in your space. This table’s a little small.” You hum back in acknowledgement, nodding once. “It’s, uh…all good,” you respond, voice small as you type into your laptop. Internally, your body fills slowly with humiliation and confusion, but you stay quiet, and that’s how the rest of the night goes: a silent, steady beat of keyboard clicking and the occasional question. 

No banter, no nothing—it’s a godsend, yes, it is, but you can’t help but miss the abrasive, playful conversations the two of you had built up over the previous several weeks. But really—had you truly assumed he had bought you a panini? As if a coffee wasn’t enough? You felt at odds with yourself for even expecting such a gesture from the guy whose main habit was to annoy you to the ends of the Earth.

“It’s late,” he says, as if he’s reading your mind and knowing you’re absolutely mortified inside. “Let’s head home.” You nod, deeming the night’s work satisfactory—maybe even beyond, considering the amount of effort you both put into the output. You shove your laptop and charger into your bag and pocket your phone, lingering awkwardly and waiting for Mark to finish packing up. He’s particular with it—he has little sections in his backpack for the wires and chargers, and even his AirPods, and his laptop. 

“Very organized,” you find yourself commenting offhandedly, your tone taking on a teasing edge. He glares playfully back at you. 

“Sorry I don’t want my wires to break,” he shoots back, eyeing your flimsy tote bag, “unlike some people.” You roll your eyes and, against your strongest wills, a smile appears on your lips, albeit a small one. His eyes linger on your smile for a little bit before he clears his throat and zips up his knapsack. “Let’s, er, go. Thank Jesus we’re in the same building.” When you exit, the air bites at you despite the jacket covering your body, and you quicken your pace. “It’s cold as hell.”

“Ironic,” Mark says. You hide a smile.

—

That’s what November brings you—the next week and a half are composed of just slowly learning to get used to working with Mark again and going home late into the night, crunching to the max. 

Your paper begins to take on more and more structure, and two out of the six days you’ve met, Mark has set down a caramel latte for you to arrive to. The acoustic music slowly phases into holiday guitar, and the coat rack at the entrance is weighed down more and more as the days pass, preparing to welcome December. 

You and Mark work silently, save for the rare banter and eyeroll, and very gradually, the annoyance that had bubbled up within seconds before had sank down. You’re not friends, per se—it’s just that the frustration and exasperation had lessened considerably. 

You were civil. That’s it. You won’t try to deny that you’ve been thinking about this a little too much—about what your “friendship” had become with Mark. You hadn’t snapped at him in days, and he hadn’t tugged at your ballpen in even longer. It wasn’t that you had cowered him into silence by crying over your planner—it may have instigated it, but his behavior was…different. 

More calm, more sure. Less childish. He would still tease you, but not as much. It’s nearing mid-November now, and you’ve successfully done much of your introduction and denial, needing less and less of Lia and Daniel’s presence. (Which you’re sure they’re grateful for.) But being left alone with Mark isn’t as bad as you once thought—

“Hello. Earth to you,” you distantly hear, and you whip your head in the direction of the voice as you pace back to your dorm building. Mark stares blankly back at you. “What,” you mumble back. He quirks a brow before continuing. “I was saying, I think I need to take a rain check tomorrow. The, uh”—he clears his throat—“um, yeah.”

You eye him. “Okay…?”

He nods profusely, “Yeah, all good.” The walk continues in silence, the sun finally setting down behind the Manhattan skyline beyond you and the breeze taking on a chillier temperature. You sigh softly, fatigue overtaking you as you stare at the building nearing you. “If you take a rain check, just make sure you write it within the day or after,” you say, half-sternly and half-tiredly. He mumbles a “got it” and you both jog up the steps to the lobby, where you run into, by some weird twist of the day, a small group of anti-abortion protesters.

“Jesus Christ,” Mark mutters under his breath. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You rub the bridge of your nose in your fingers, choosing to tune them out and instead maneuver your way through the door. Before you can even take a step, though, they’re all up in your face with pamphlets and brochures and a guitar. “Excuse me,” you grunt, trying to gently push them aside, but they only come on stronger. “A child is a child,” they say. “If you know anybody who’s—”

“Is this your new initiative? Preying on college students on school grounds, unaccounted for?” Mark asks from behind you. You turn to find he’s filming and stifle a laugh. “I’m surprised nobody’s kicked you out. Won’t be long, now,” he adds with a smile. 

You tune out nearly everything else—it’s really just them telling Mark to stop recording and him retorting with equally snarky phrases. It’s not until maybe after a solid two minutes of back and forth that one of them, a weird middle-aged woman, pulls out a burgundy gummy bear from a bag and pushes it into Mark’s camera. He takes it from her and examines it, puzzled. “That,” she says matter-of-factly, “is the approximate size of a fetus. It’s big. It’s sentient, alive. What, I beg of you, what would you do?”

Mark squints at it. Then he pops it into his mouth, takes your hand, and runs straight to the elevator across the floor. 

“There’s a bunch of anti-abortion people outside, it’s not cool!” He hollers to the receptionist before the doors close with a damning click. 

There’s a beat, and then.

Both of you are doubling over in laughter. “Why the hell would y—why would you do that?! You’re insane!” The response is: “Because they’re not cool! They’re fuckin’ annoying! So I ate their baby!” There are tears in your eyes, your laughter so hard it’s nearing silent—Mark’s, though, is loud and annoying sounding, though you seem to not mind so much. The laughter subsides when the ding of your floor sounds and you straighten yourself up. Getting into a different position reminds you of the very there, very obvious brushing of your hand against Mark’s, which he’d taken just moments earlier, post-baby eating.

You freeze and jerk your hand away. “I’ll, um, go now,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorr—no, the day after.” Against your wills, you meet his eyes, and you’re surprised to find that he’s already looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Okay,” he says, his eyes not leaving yours. Your heart beats faster at a very small increment, but you head out and semi-run to your room, swinging it open and leaning against it. 

You look up to find Lia and Daniel engaged in a heated Monopoly match. You make no noise, mind (and heart, but you can’t tell why) racing fast. You watch them play for a second before they both look up slowly.

“You’re smiling like a goddamn idiot,” Daniel says. Your face falls immediately. “I’m, um, no I’m not,” you say casually, pacing over to your bed and flopping onto it. Lia laughs loudly. 

“That sounded so freaked. Like we’re your mom and you just brought weed home kind of freaked.” Pause. 

“Are you hiding something from me?” She rises from her spot to look at you, head in pillow and all, and you let out a muffled “no!”, probably too defensive for your own good. 

It’s Daniel’s turn to snort. You look up and glare at him, “You’re getting too comfortable for your own good. You need to humble yourself, Daniel. What’s it again? Oh yeah, Yeonjun, right?” He rolls his eyes at the use of his Korean name and turns back to the Monopoly board.

Lia flops atop you, eliciting a grunt from your lips. “Are you okay? Did somebody flirt with you? Did Mark finally fuck off and leave you alone properly?” 

At the mention of Mark, your heart races—you will it to stop, and audibly groan in the process. “What is it, you bitch?” Lia asks, tugging on a section of your hair. “It’s nothing, Li! Nothing, I promise.” She glares at you before walking to Daniel and covering his ears. Instantly, he begins to let out a chorus of Lalala, and deeming the environment safe enough, you let it slip.

“Mark and I held hands. But it—”

“You what?!”

“It really, really doesn’t mean anyth—”

“How can that not mean anything? It’s hand holdi—”

“If you would listen to the backstory you’d know!” She pauses, and then uncovers Daniel’s ears and knees him. 

“Okay, get out. Monopoly postponed, Jun,” she says, pushing him out insistently. He barely collects his phone and keys before he’s out, but you swoon silently when you catch him pressing a short goodbye kiss to her forehead before actually leaving. She turns immediately, fire and curiosity awfully evident in her face. 

She nears you. “Explain.” 

And that’s what sparks the story of the weird protesters, Mark’s power move, and the unintentional hand hold that lasted a few moments too long. She nods the entire time, laughing, and then her face straightens out again. You can almost hear the gears in her head turning as she analyzes the situation, and then she nods once. 

“Okay. Perfectly justifiable to freak out.” Another pause. “But why were you smiling?” You stare blankly back at her, head working impossibly quick to formulate a reply. You’ve taken too long now, judging by the way Lia is looking at you with the most shit-eating grin on her fucking face. You groan.

“You like him, you bitch!” 

You shake your head, facing her. “I don’t, dude. Trust me. I just…it was a fun experience, so naturally I’d be laughing. And smiling. But I’m just not interested in Mark! I’m not,” you fumble, being completely honest. 

You didn’t—not even if you looked in the mirror and asked yourself. But you couldn’t deny the feelings you felt in the ten seconds from the elevator to your room, your heart racing and your fist curling and uncurling. When you look at Lia again, she’s still smiling, flushed. “You like him,” she says into her palm, which she’s slapped over her mouth in disbelief. You stare back at her, your expression baffled. “If I did,” you begin, getting up to discard your shirt, “I’d have told you by now. It’s really not that big of a deal unless you make it out to be.”

After that, you and Mark spend nearly three weeks walking on eggshells around each other. While conversations are no longer avoided, and you could talk without getting exasperated or too embarrassed, finger brushes are frequent, and eye contact only makes you extremely nervous. You had worked until the second stage—anger—already, but you’d still been polishing the denial and introduction. Considering November wasn’t over and the paper was due February, you figured you were moving at an okay pace. Besides, a lot of your friends hadn’t even begun.

—

There are two instances where you rush home, mortified beyond belief.

The first when when you struck up a conversation with the cute, Australian barista. Scrawled in big penmanship on his name tag is Chan. You had brought up, in passing, how often you’re at the cafe and how you probably deserve a free drink. He replied with a low hum, and you dialed down your flirty tone, slightly embarrassed. But not really. You’ve rejected plenty of people before. It’s when you’re already paying for your drink that he replied, handing you your (for a change) iced matcha with a small grin. 

“I’d have flirted with you weeks ago if you didn’t have your boyfriend with you all the time. He’s always buying you your drinks.” You spluttered for a good second, staring at him incredulously. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you finally said. 

He had shrugged, nonchalant. “He sure as hell looks at you a lot for someone you’re not dating. And you do it just as much, if not more. I’m observant, by the way. Not a stalker.” You had taken your cup and paced over to the other end of the cafe, sat across Mark, cheeks heated.

He looked up, brow raised. You shook your head.

The second time was when Donghyuck graced you both with his presence. You quickly found out that he was a magnetic presence and you both shared similar interests. The energy you both created was both amusing and annoying to Mark. 

Although you kept quiet mostly, you enabled Donghyuck’s incessant teasing, which annoyed Mark to the ends of the Earth. “You’re a dork. Isn’t he?” You look up and nod with a smile. Mark rolls his eyes, sending Donghyuck into a laughing frenzy. Mark just grunts and continues typing.

Hyuck had made a joke about how two Physics textbooks discussed why the sad man named Mark owns two of them and didn’t have a life, and you laughed. 

You didn’t usually laugh, not around Mark, at least, since it was safe to say you didn’t have any source of entertainment in such a boring guy. But you laughed at the witty joke, and Donghyuck, without thinking much, had said in passing: “Mark, I guess you’re right about everything about her being pretty.”

Mark said nothing, typing. You said nothing. Nobody said anything, not even a sly Donghyuck or, from the counter, an even slyer Chan.

—

When you see Mark next, it’s three days later, and it’s, for the second time, in Johnny’s apartment. 

Lia had asked if you wanted to tag along, and you found no harm in going. (“You’re going because Mark is” becomes Lia’s favorite phrase of the night, so much it’s spread to Daniel, who you’d succumbed to and spilled everything to hours prior.) The walk there has something boiling low in your gut and you’re quiet, in fear you might end up vomiting in nerves or saying something stupid. Lia teases you, but her hand clasping yours reassures you, and you squeeze it tightly. 

You get there late—it’s past 1AM, and you have a sense of deja vu walking into the cramped space. It’s fuller this time—people are creeping into the bedrooms to smoke in private or do some other things, but suffice to say it’s crowded as fuck.

“Want a drink?” Lia hollers, and you nod over the music. Johnny’s neighbor is another upperclassman named Doyoung, though he’s mainly referred to as Doie by just about everybody around him.

You’ve seen his girlfriend call him bunny a few times, though you’ve long desired to repress that memory. 

Judging by the fact that you can faintly hear a different song from the next room, the party has probably extended to Doyoung’s. There’s quite a gathering this week—the rich freshman who you’d befriended once before, Chenle, and his horde of friends are here; from Lia, who hands you a drink, you learn that Kun and Sicheng, two incredibly attractive juniors, are here, too—in Doie’s, though. The party only intensifies, which is hard, because Johnny’s apartment is very tiny.

Eventually, you find yourself in the bathroom, smoking a joint you’d grabbed out of the clammy hands of a tipsy Chenle and kicking a couple out under the guise that you’re Johnny’s cousin. Chenle had protested but eventually given in, pulling a new one out of his pocket.

The bathroom light is white and harsh, but there’s a very funky lamp at the corner. From your place inside the dry (and thankfully clean…looking) bathtub, you eye it. It’s a tall one in the shape of a glass of margarita. 

You heave yourself up and find the switch, and then when it’s on, you giggle at the green light emitting from it. You have absolutely no idea why Johnny, Jaehyun, or their roommate Jungwoo (3J, as some call them) have a decorative, margarita-shaped green lamp, and in their bathroom nonetheless, but you shut off the main light and return to smoking your blunt. Deciding your ass aches far too much, you lean against the tile wall and cherish the smoke.

The door opens abruptly, and you curse, pushing it back closed. 

“I have explosive diarrhea,” you say robotically, using the same excuse you did for the previous three couples that showed up. 

From the other side, you hear a shrill laugh and sound of confusion. When you peer over the other side and see Mark, you groan and laugh. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I saw you come in. Like, twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m cherishing the party privately.”

Mark ushers himself into the dark space and shuts the door. He makes a show of locking it, as if to show you it’s possible to do so. The sound of it locking sends a wave of nerves up your spine. 

“I didn’t lock it in case a medical emergency happens and they have to rush inside.” 

Mark quirks his brow. “I doubt they would think to go inside the restroom and not panic and call 911, you know.” 

You shrug in indifference and take another drag, reluctantly offering it to him.

He takes it, and you pause for a second to observe him. His hair, dark, and which usually covers his entire forehead like a broom or at least parts in the middle slightly, is now styled differently. 

He’s in a fitting black shirt and blue jeans, and, upon your closer inspection, silver rings adorn his fingers. You will yourself to look down. It’s dark. “What’s that you’re holding?” You ask instead, trying not to extend your stare at his shoulders.

“Your puffer coat,” he says, tossing it to you. “Left it last time.”

“That time when you annoyed the shit out of me, right,” you retort.

“Yes, exactly that time. That was ages ago. Weeks ago. Look at us now.”

“Us now—what, still disliking each other?”

He laughs humorlessly, but doesn’t entertain you further. He turns to the lamp instead. “Do you know I was there when they moved this in,” he begins, gesturing to it, “Jae got it at some weird, awful flea market, and he had to buy some extra wiring to fix it or whatever. I was doing Physics homework. It was at the start of this school year. And I bet you didn’t know…” he bends down and reaches to the base of the lamp, pressing a button, “that it changes color.”

The room is bathed in red now, and you swallow. “Interesting,” you manage to say, despite the racing in your head. “Very,” he responds, taking a step closer to you. You gaze up at him. He’s tall. You breathe softly. You nod in agreement. You don’t know what to do. You want to punch him and kiss him and leave all at once. 

You want to kiss him, oh God, you want to kiss him.

“Oh God,” you say softly, out loud. Oh fuck. Too much weed?

He inches closer, leaving the blunt on the rim of the sink. “Why?” He smiles a little and you smile back, nervous. He’s so close now, and he smells so good—like cologne and laundry and weed. You shake your head. “Nothing,” you mumble back.

He’s even closer now, eyes boring into yours. You adjust your strap, a nervous habit. He takes your hand and does it for you. “I like this song,” he says casually, like he’s not playing with the strap of your dress. “Do you know what it’s called?” It’s vaguely familiar to you, but you shake your head. 

“It’s Jhene Aiko,” he replies, and you nod. You gravitate closer.

You stare at him. He stares back. “I’m high,” you say. You giggle. “I had a brownie and that blunt.”

“That’s a lot,” he says. “Don’t finish the blunt, ‘kay?” You nod back, and giggle again. In two seconds, your nervous mechanism has kicked in and you’re laughing like a psycho. “I’m high,” you repeat, and then he kisses you, effectively sobering you up.

Huh. He kisses you, effectively sobering you up. He kisses you.

You kiss back, shocked and relieved, deepening it, trying to get as much of him as possible. His hands are big and wide and warm, traveling all over you. You want him. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, lips molding against yours deliriously. 

“Want you,” you say when his hands play with the hem of your dress, teetering closer and closer to your core. “I said, I want you,” you whine, “now.” Mark only laughs, his hands under your dress and playing with the lace waistband of your underwear. 

“I like how this feels,” he mumbles. “Wanna take a look.” You whimper, hiking your leg up and nodding. “Please, just…touch me,” you say breathlessly. “Please.”

“I will,” he says, voice calm. “You’re being good.” You can’t deny the noise you make at the praise, breathy and loud. You pull him in again, drunk for more, your hands raking through his hair. It’s dark, the both of you basking in the small red light. Mark hikes your dress up, inching it higher, slowly, until he sees the hem of your white lace underwear. He grunts and pulls at it. “I love this,” he says. “So fuckin’, Jesus.” 

You giggle against the smile. He toys with your panties for a bit before finally pulling them down, watching them sink to your ankles. “Hot,” he jokes, and you laugh in disbelief. “Why would you even be joking abou—”

“Mark! Let’s go, it’s 2:30!” Donghyuck’s voice is just as loud and clear as it would be if you weren’t separated by a door. Jolted, you and Mark instinctively break apart and stare at the rattling door. “Maaaark,” he sing-songs, knocking to a beat. You stare at Mark, waiting for him to respond.

“I have explosive diarrhea,” he says. You stifle a guffaw, pulling your panties up.

He pouts, tapping your ass. “Bullshit,” Donghyuck says from outside. “I’m cooomin’ in!”

In the span of a minute, where you realize Donghyuck is not bluffing and in fact has a stolen bathroom key from Jungwoo’s bedside drawer, you manage to shove yourself into the bathtub and hide yourself with the curtain. Mark switches the light back on, much to both of your disappointment, and pretends to smoke the blunt you’d left on the sink fifteen minutes ago. Ergo: pre-kiss.

You find your phone on the bathtub floor and grip it, turning the brightness down. You have a plethora of messages and voicemails from Lia, five calls from Daniel, and an interesting iMessage of Donghyuck’s red, weed-induced eyes from an unknown number. It could be anybody, and that scares you.

The texts are all frantic, and they’re the last things that bring you out of your high and back to reality. Where are u, who u with?, u getting railed??!, Have you seen mark?

“Hyuck, if I actually did have a shitstorm coming out of my ass, you’d be so sorry for breaking in,” you hear Mark say. You sink lower into the bathtub, awaiting Donghyuck’s voice. “You were the one who suggested we go at 2:30, and you’ve been smoking weed for the longest time, dipshit,” he says, “now let’s go. I haven’t seen your Psych girl all night, so you can cry about it at home.” You faintly detect Mark protesting and then, “Let me just freshen up! Just go ahead.”

Reluctantly, you peek out and find Mark alone. You get up and fix your dress.

You’re sober now. The red lights are gone. It’s just you and Mark, plain and simple. Your feelings haven’t gone away, though. You’re fucking fucked. You want him to fuck you. Oh, fuck.

“Go,” you say instead, spluttering. “And I’ll see you. Tuesday.”

You leave first despite yourself, not turning around for even a split second, finding a worried (and then relieved) Lia and taking five consecutive tequila shots to down the nerves and denial bubbling in your system. She raises a brow, but you refuse to even meet her eyes, head and heart pounding impossibly fast. You want to kiss him again. So, so bad. But what the fuck did you just let happen?

—

Stage 2: Anger|

Lia hadn’t pressed, and you were nervous, but it was getting easy to diverge the details of what happened during Johnny’s party. You had instead opted to work alone, too much of a coward to even see Mark’s face. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you feared you might just kiss him if you ever saw him. So you spent days at class working, and then at your dorm working, adjusting your route to avoid, as much as possible, Mark or Hyuck’s buildings and that godforsaken cafe. You did text Mark, though, and the exchanges were brief, not even a “thank you” or “good morning” preceding them. It was awful.

Working alone forced you into a heavy load of retrospection. You would think deeply, like how you are now, spiraling into a series of questions where you studied the play-by-play of what happened in the bathroom, up against the wall. You liked it. A lot. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself. Why it even happened…God. You mentally berated yourself for giving into it. Didn’t you hate him? Or at least dislike him? Didn’t you take pleasure in scolding him or fighting with him?

“You’re freaking me out,” Lia says from her bed. She’s been staring at you. “You’ve been lying on your bed staring at the ceiling for twenty straight minutes.” She walks over to you, flopping next to you, her arms winding around your body. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know,” you say, nervous. You gulp.

“Okay. If you’re n—”

“Mark and I kissed.”

She sits up and turns to look at you.

“Made out, more like. We were going to fuck if we didn’t get interrupted.” You’re mortified, refusing to meet her gaze. When you look up, her face is even, but you know she’s bubbling over with giddiness inside. “That is so fucking great, dude,” she replies. “Why are you so embarrassed?”

“Because it’s Mark,” you whine. “He’s not…I don’t know.”

She lies back down. “You’re overthinking this.” You laugh, poking her waist. “I know, but I just…I feel like he might not like me much anymore.” You recount the way you left him hanging, despite the lack of awkward air and the potential to talk and become something. She tsks but justifies it, because she’s so good at that, being a mediator, and you continue with your day quietly. 

Your mind is always on it, though, his hands and his lips, and you’ve scoured Spotify for the song playing that he had commented on.

It’s called Pussy Fairy. You cannot make it up. It’s a weird title, but the song is heavenly, and you can’t deny when it’s full blast on your AirPods and your hand is creeping closer and closer there, trying desperately to replicate what you felt in that moment. When you’re not sated, ashamed and sighing, you resort to working on your paper. There are moments where both you and Mark are working at the same time, and you hate yourself for getting all flustered when it happens. 

—

It’s a Tuesday, in the early afternoon, when you’re out of class and cleaning out the little litter in your dorm, repasting whatever decorations fell off, et cetera. You have the time, anyway, and it wouldn’t hurt to fix the place up a bit. You’re halfway into re-stringing Lia’s fairy lights when someone knocks on the door, jolting you. You curse under your breath, hopping off her bed to swing the door open and reveal—

“What is up?!” Donghyuck grins back at you. His hand is raised in a high-five invitation, which you hesitantly reciprocate. “Mark tells me you’re meeting today, and that I should come remind you, since it seems like you forgot. He says you haven’t texted all day. Since I was on this floor—do you know Jeno Lee? Do you know it’s so amusing how Mark, Jeno, and I all have the same surname? Anyway. I was here on your floor to remind Jeno about an Econ presentation, and Mark texts me and goes, if you’re with Jeno, then remind you—you as in you, you—to come meet me and work.” 

He talks so goddamn fast. “You talk so goddamn fast.”

He just guffaws, high-fiving you again. “Well, you get my point, right? Meet Mark at the cafe and work is all he said to do. If you wanna.” You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “Tell him I’ll be a little late,” you say simply, and as you’re about to shut the door, he talks again, his voice quieter this time. “I know you were hiding behind the curtain.”

You pull the door open again, so fast a minuscule gust of wind washes over both of your faces. “You’re kidding,” you say, “you’re kidding.” You stare at each other for a second before his solem features break into a smile. “I am. Mark spilled everything to me, so I decided to trick you.” Relief and annoyance break over your system as you swat Donghyuck’s shoulder. “You’re a dick,” you spit. “You’re bringing a bad image to Econ majors.”

He merely laughs and closes the door himself, light brown hair fluffing with the severity of his laugh (cackle.) Slightly annoyed, you drag yourself to get dressed, dread building up in your stomach at the prospect of seeing Mark again. Not when your mind conjures up what happened everytime you just see his name. Or the word mark. You’ve been out of it since it happened, not even responding to your usual heated debates with the conservative Trump supporter in class. You suppose the best way to confront it is to simply confront it.

When you get there, though, it’s clear that confrontation would not be an option. Immediately, when you sit, the air shifts into something oddly familiar—the atmosphere between the two of you when you first got partnered up. Except now, Mark won’t even give you a pinch of attention, or banter, instead typing his questions into the document to avoid verbal conversation. (He is a fucking petty bitch, you’ll give him that.)

You stroll over to the counter, pout set on your lips. “Hello,” Chan says politely, and you just smile half-heartedly. “Lover’s quarrel?” He teases, and you roll your eyes. “He’s ignoring me,” you respond, watching him make you a latte. “And we’re not dating. We never were.”

“Mm, right,” he says, finishing and setting your drink in front of you. You laugh a little, taking it. “No. We weren’t. But I’ll update you.”

When you return, Mark’s looking at you, quiet as ever. You break his gaze and continue working, working and working until the sun sets, nestled deep behind the horizon. When you look up again, the sky is already dark, city lights providing solace to the place. You look at Mark quizzically, as if to ask him what time you should both leave, but he just shrugs. “Any time,” he states plainly, and huffing, you get up.

“I’ll go right ahead then,” you say, trying your best to sound annoyed and get your message across. He says nothing, watching you pack up your stuff and sling your bag over your shoulder, and then eventually, leave.

Daniel is the first to see you in your raged, annoyed state—you meet him in the elevator of the lobby, your blood boiling and your fists balled. Knowing you’re headed to the same floor, he presses the button, ruffles his hair, and then lets the silence take over. And then, “What’s going on?” You breathe deeply, turning to him with a tired look on your face. “Mark’s going on,” you mumble, “he was ignoring me the entire time. And to think he was the one who requested my presence! It makes no sense. Why would he ignore me when we can just talk about it?”

“About what?”

It suddenly occurs to you that Daniel knows about your weird feelings for Mark, but not how they culminated. You splutter. “Um, about us. Everything.” Daniel looks amused, but the doors open, and you thank them for the temporary exit from the topic. He stops you right outside, though, and pulls out two ticket, card-looking things. “Wait, um. Listen, Lia and I are going to reach our seven-month…anniversary, I guess, of, y’know, being a thing. I know it seems really small, but I want to give her a little something out of appreciation, so I got us a room at this ski lodge outside the city.”

“That’s so sweet,” you say honestly, “but I must admit, it comes on sort of stalker-y. Like you’re whisking her off out of the city.”

He beams even louder. “That’s why you’re coming. With Mark!”

You gape back at him. “Did you miss the whole I-hate-him thing that happened in there?” You jab your finger towards the closed elevator doors, disbelief written across your face. He laughs. “Sometimes you can’t keep hiding behind”—he begins walking to your room, and you follow suit—“emotions, like anger. When I liked Lia, there was a point where I was just pretending to alienate her so I wouldn’t have to face that I was starting to love her. Like her. And you know, she did it right back.” 

“Oh, quit it,” you scoff, insistent. “You’re lecturing me like you’ve been married a decade.”

“That’s what I want,” he says, and you gag. “The first step to that would be ski lodge trip, so you’re coming!”

You’re in front of your room now, and you pinch his wrist as he reaches for the handle, gaining his full attention. “I’ll gladly go,” you whisper, “if Mark’s out.” Daniel just laughs, shaking his head. “No, no. An overnight trip would delay your paper severely. Plus, they have two beds per room.”

“We’ll be staying in the same roo—hey, Li,” you say, quickly cutting your angry rant off when she opens the door, her face confused (to say the least.) 

“Mm, hey,” she says, ushering the two of you in. “How long were you two out there?” Daniel shrugs, ruffling his hair and then pressing a kiss on Lia’s forehead. You boo from your place on your bed, buried under your duvet. “You both suck,” you holler, “always sexing it up in a sacred space. AKA my room.” Lia just grins and jumps on top of you, drawing grunts from you both. Daniel seats himself on the floor and busies himself with his phone. “How was Mark,” she whispers into your hair, and you groan.

“Bad,” you respond, “I’m so annoyed. We’re back to square one.” She makes an apologetic noise and gets up with a sigh, adjusting the strings of her pullover and then hugging Daniel. You watch them. You want to kiss Mark again. Life sucks that way.

—

Predictably, Mark turns down the offer of the ski lodge. He’s polite about it, too, especially since he and Daniel have grown a little bit closer since the start of your project. Daniel is, by no means, a “Mark anti”, but he would participate in the ribbing sometimes. Still, he’s insistent on the trip, saying it’s the best way to welcome December and that the forecast predicts a nice, thick layer of snow. It takes a week and two coffees everyday for Mark to give in, under the condition that he buy his own room when you get there.

Which, honestly, really, you have no problem with. Really, you think to yourself as you unceremoniously shove a knitted sweater into your bag. Really. Lia, who had graciously accepted the surprise, watches you abuse your bag, shoving sweater and scarf inside like they want to murder you. “Relax,” she says after a while. You laugh, playing it off (not so) casually.

The drive up there, courtesy of Daniel and a borrowed Prius, is fun, and cramped, but still decent, considering it was just an hour long. You’re in the back with Lia, and Mark is in charge of the AUX, which, of course, comes with its own bout of jokes. You even find the heart to participate and laugh in a few, not daring to meet his eyes. But all his songs are so fucking good. Frank Ocean, Jhene Aiko, SZA, and smaller indie artists flow from the speaker under his phone. The car ride has its share of epic karaoke moments—Mark plays ABBA, and Queen, solely to make sure everybody is belting out to the high heavens.

You get there when the sky’s purple and orange and there are some skiiers scattered around, though, since it’s not the proper holiday period, not too much. You trek over to the main lodge and that’s where Daniel pays for his reservations, and he and Lia retire to their room and promise to get up for dinner. You’re, again, alone with Mark in the lobby as you both stare at each other, willing the other to get up first. He does, to buy his own room like he said he would, and you can faintly hear the exchange from your seat on their nice, fluffy couch.

“I’m sorry, sir. We’re renovating a majority of the rooms for the holidays. That’s why reservations were a prerequisite for staying here.”

Mark sighs. “Okay, right. I’m so sorry. Um”—it’s at this point that you go up next to him, polite smile on your face, ready to take the room key and fuck off—“could we just get an extra blanket, please? For one of the beds.” The receptionist gives a curt smile, handing over the keycard and nodding. “That’ll be one queen-sized warm blanket, then,” she hums, typing away. The receptionist beside her goes to the back, presumably to get the blanket. Mark nods, smiling. “For two queen-sized beds, it must be a big room for both of them to fit comfortably,” he comments offhandedly, fiddling with the card.

The receptionist chuckles. “There is only one bed, sir.”

Oh, God. “Oh, God,” you whisper. “One bed?” She nods with an eye-crinkling smile, like her words have not just rained hell upon the two people across her. “One bed and a sofa,” she corrects herself, reading the information on the computer by the desk. Not wanting to risk your last shred of sanity, you smile profusely, walking quickly towards your room which, thankfully, is on the same floor, at the end of the hall. It’s a small, quaint place that would be honest-to-God perfect if not for the fact that—

“There’s one bed,” Mark sighs, the truth clicking into place. “Daniel is a fucking shithead.” You drop your bag onto the carpeted floor, surveying the room with a scrutinizing gaze. It’s sizable—a bed, a couch, a window. There’s a small wooden desk that looks like its legs can barely hold its weight, and then another door, leading to the bathroom. It’s not bad at all. But you’re exhausted, the sun’s long gone, and your resolve is shredding away as the seconds tick by. “Take the couch,” you say dismissively, “or the carpet.” You make a beeline for the bed, but Mark’s arm wraps around your waist, effectively stopping you.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod “Shut up and let go of me, dick,” you stutter out. Mark loosens his grip and you shove him off, glaring at him. He gazes back down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We can’t just make up terms without negotiation,” he says matter-of-factly, and you blow a raspberry. “Fine. Let’s negotiate then. I’m a girl and that puts me above you because chivalry isn’t dead, thus, boom, I get the bed.”

“I was in the uncomfortable passenger seat all day and my lower back hurts,” he counters.

“My legs are wobbly.”

“Bullshit. My back aches.”

“You already said that, it’s invalid.”

The back and forth only intensifies, your arguments growing more and more bizarre, until finally, your volume is so high Lia says she can hear it faintly, four doors down. 

“The couch looks comfy,” you try, but Mark stands firm. 

“Do you know what? The bed is big. It’s a big bed. And we’re not going to take up much space. If we divide the bed with the sofa pillows…” you pick up the cushions and line them up neatly along the middle, “…then we can sleep beside each other without having to make contact with each other.” He seems convinced, stepping closer to the bed and nodding. “Okay. I get first dibs on the shower.”

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you let him anyway. You’ve unpacked nearly all your things and he isn’t done yet, so you’ve resorted to scrolling mindlessly through Tiktok and laughing at just about everyone that pops up on screen. Mark finally exits after what feels like forever, and you keep your eyes trained on your screen to avoid looking at him. From your peripheral vision, he is very much shirtless. There are no words exchanged, the thickness in the air only building bit by bit.

—

Three hours later, post-dinner, post-abandoning the thought of working on your paper, you’re stumbling into your room after helping the very tipsy couple of the night into theirs. You’re beyond tired now, and you can tell Mark is, too, despite the lack of eye contact or communication between you. You don’t even look at him, brushing your teeth and removing your makeup and clipping your hair up into a bun. It’s when he does the same, and you’re both in bed, using your phones, that he finally breaks the silence.

“I’m not mad,” he says. His voice is even and calm, and you quickly shut your phone off and sit up, peering over the pillow boundary you had created. You look at him expectantly before he sighs and continues. “Why did you leave?”

You stand up, getting out, trying to increase distance. You’ve never really liked confrontation. “I was weirded out,” you spill, “and scared…? I guess with the nearness of being caught, and with all the lights on, I was just shocked back to reality.”

He sits up. “What’s reality?”

“I don’t—know,” you splutter, getting back on the bed. “Not kissing you?”

He laughs, and then it becomes silent. “Right. Let’s sleep, then.” Without another word, he pulls his lamp off, and only the white moonlight is left illuminating the both of you. Shucking yourself under the covers, feeling your heart practically thump out of your chest. You honestly think he can hear it, or at least feel it. Suddenly the boundary doesn’t do much. You turn away from him, nervous, and you can faintly hear his breathing even out. You shut your eyes for a second. When you open them again, he’s looking right at you. “Just checking to see if you’re asleep,” he says quietly. You nod. And then you lean upwards, just a touch, so your lips nearly brush slightly. “Night,” you say, before turning to sleep for real.

You’re not sure when. And how. Sure, you faintly remember digging your legs sleepily through the sheets to find warmth and tangling Mark’s in your own. But still—when you’re up, the pillow fort is at your feet, hanging precariously off the four post bed, and your back is against Mark’s chest. His breath fans lightly over your hair and you blearily register what happened overnight. His arm is slung over your middle, it’s quiet, and oh Christ, he is hard.

It’s fairly late. He’s hard. The antique clock mounted up on the wall tells you it’s around nine, which essentially gave you seven hours of sleep. He’s hard. You bask in the warmth of Mark for a while before your resolve solidifies and you gently push his arm off from its position on your hips. He only comes on stronger, wrapping fully around your waist, mumbling incoherence into your hair. He’s hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, summoning sleep to overcome you quickly, but it never does. Dread overcomes you as you feel your underwear grow damp.

“Mm,” Mark grunts, his hand around your waist loosening. You move away but his head suddenly lolls into the crook of your neck, his lips touching the side of it. You whimper. He’s a fucking asshole, even when he’s asleep. You pinch his arm, jolting him to half-awakeness, and you roll away, despite your body’s protests.

He blinks his eyes open. “Sorry, shit,” he says, voice deep and ridden with sleep. You’re fucked.

“It’s okay,” you splutter instead. “Just go back to sleep.” You faintly register that you sound just as exhausted as he does, and you bury your head back into the covers. Everything, plus the sound of his voice, has you dripping, and you breathe in deeply to poorly disguise a whimper. He chuckles, already half-asleep, from where he is, and it’s quiet for a few minutes before you realize he’s fallen asleep. Knowing Lia and Daniel will be busy for a while, you pull a spare pillow over your head and chant to yourself before falling back asleep, too.

When you awaken, the bed is cold and empty, and the shower’s running. You check the time to find only an hour has passed, but you’re much more awake now, getting up and knocking incessantly on the bathroom door. “Hurry,” you demand hoarsely, “I want to go skiing.” You hear a muffled okay and scurry over to your bag to find the pair of leggings you had packed for this. You also find your parka, and you pull off your shirt to clasp on a bra.

“Not that I don’t mind,” Mark says, eliciting a yelp from you as you tug a sweater on at record speed, “but generally, that kind of thing only goes unnoticed in nudist colonies. I could research some for you, if you’d—ow! I was joking, God!” You bonk him twice over the head with the Bible on the bedside table, your brows furrowed angrily. “You looked, asshat,” you say, collecting your things and locking yourself in the bathroom.

When it becomes increasingly evident that Lia and Daniel have no plans of exiting their room, you grumble and resort to skiing alone. But as you’re shuffling out, bundled up, you spot Mark leaning against the exit waiting for you. He looks up and tsks. “About fucking time,” he says, holding the door open for you. It’s not that cold out—maybe you’re just used to having snow and chilly weather, and so is Mark—so you barely shiver, walking around and looking for a good place to ski.

“Forget skiing,” Mark says after a few rounds. “Let���s go sledding. I have a thing.”

“A toboggan, you mean.”

“A funny word. Really, just say sled.”

You let up, anyway, the bright sky and cold ground sending serotonin right into you. Sure enough, Mark does have a nice, blue sled that he lets you on, and then the two of you are bolting down the hill at breakneck speed, laughing all the way. It’s quite a long ride, and you’re smiling and yelping so much the cloth you’ve used to cover your neck has ridden down, the cold air hitting your face harshly.

You land very ungracefully—the toboggan hits a small tree and sends you and Mark catapulting in the same direction, your hands clawing at the air for expense. You find Mark’s arm and cling onto it in the split second you’re in the air, landing on a clearing of thick snow. The arm you’ve clung onto pulls you closer, Mark grunting “be careful,” and when the whole fiasco’s over, you’re smiling like an idiot, and you’re right on top of Mark.

You’re not straddling him or anything, but you’ve just happened to land with your face a little above his. You can’t stop laughing, your face flushed and red with the cold air hitting your face. So you laugh. Why wouldn’t you laugh? It was a good day. A good ride down the hill. So you keep laughing until they’re reduced to giggles, Mark laughing right along as you pull down the covering of his mouth and tug his beanie off, ruffling your hands in his hair and dipping down to kiss him.

He kisses you right back, his lips cold but quickly growing warm with the friction. You smile into the kiss, your hands roaming all over his pink face. The kiss is giggly and light, your hands all over each other as the sunlight filters in through the thick trees overhead.

You pull away after a while. “I hate you,” you whisper. He presses a kiss to your jawline and lets it linger there. “You think I don’t?”

—

Stage 3: Bargaining, Depression|

You’ve begun to type the structure out when Lia tugs on your pajamas, her tone insistent and curious. “What’s up with you and Mark?” she presses, her cheek pressed to your stomach. You fervently hope she doesnt notice how your breathing quickens, and, keeping your voice even, you answer. “We’re…thinking about things.”

Which—you were thinking about things, to be fair. There were things to be thought and you had to think about them. It was a broad half-truth. It had been two weeks since the ski lodge thing, and you and Mark had decided it was probably best to shut the fuck up about everything you had done. (Everything meaning a few kisses here and there, and maybe a little more under the covers.) You’d hated yourself for hiding it from Lia, but you and Mark were actually feeling hesitant about moving forward with whatever you were. There was a lot of ambiguity and questions, and until you could clear it up yourself, you knew you weren’t ready to tell anybody else. You had talked about it already—clearly, the two of you were beyond jumping straight into a relationship after not liking each other that much and then becoming hesitant friends.

But it was, if you had to admit it to yourself, nice having that little secret.

“I’d want to tell Lia soon,” you tease, walking steadily beside Mark. The afternoon sun is warm on your heads, the snow falling intermittently. He turns with a small smile. “I’d want to tell Hyuck, too.” You scoff, burying your head in his chest. You probably look fucking disgusting. Around you, Washington Square Park is full of natives and tourists, and college students like you, all scurrying around and giving you that very much holiday feel.

He buys you a hot cocoa and hands it to you. “Are you heading home soon?”

You take a sip, your tongue hot. “If my ratty dorm counts as home, then yes.”

“Home is a feeling, not a place. Does your ratty dorm feel like home?”

“Kind of. Lia’s there. And so is the rat infestation in the ceiling.”

Mark nearly chokes on his cocoa. “You’re gross as fuck.”

You let out a loud laugh, your beanie nearly falling off with the bounciness of it. Mark reaches behind you to catch it, pressing a kiss to your lips in the process, soft and light and God, you like it. A lot. “Clumsy,” he remarks, pulling it back on and dragging a generous amount of your hair in front of your eyes as he does it. “It’s gonna be Christmas soon, and thank God we’re nearly done with this paper.”

“It was my genius idea to combine bargaining and depression,” you quip. “That’s my gift to you. Merry Christmas, Mark Lee.” He laughs at that. His laugh, you’ve noticed, is goddamn loud, and it’s a literal cackle, but he always looks so happy when he laughs. And buoyant. “You look stupid,” you say, but the smile on your face is undeniable. He glares playfully at you, taking your hand and walking you both in the direction of your building.

“New York in the snow,” he hums. “Always a great place.”

“It’s full of tourists,” you counter. Always disagreeing.

He chuckles and then, like clockwork—like how you’ve done it for the past six dates—you separate when you’re just shy of a meter away from the lobby entrance. Your fingers curl in search of his, and you jog up the steps, eager to get into the warmth of the building. The lobby’s pretty empty, save for a couple of students. Mark’s ahead of you, already pressing the elevator button and waiting impatiently. 

“We’re alone,” he sing-songs, his eyebrows wiggling. The doors open right as you take Mark’s hand, and you look up to meet Daniel’s wide eyes. Then you look to the right to meet Lia’s.

Despite your inner turmoil, you remain nonchalant, pinching Mark’s wrist instead of holding it like you’d planned. “That’s why our professor fucking hates you,” you say, narrowing your eyes. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, but you muster a neutral expression, shoving your hands back into your pockets. Lia knows you, though, and her furrowed eyebrows and parted lips say everything—but you just shrug, playing off what they could have caught you doing. “Hey,” you say, walking into the elevator with Mark. It all blows over.

AKA: Daniel has to drag a curious Lia away from you, with a promise that you would converse later. You and Mark are alone again, in the elevator, your hands barely touching, laughs loud. It’s all blurry after that. You’re high on a laugh and the thought of a kiss—you drag him over to your room, hands in his hair, breathless, loose kisses. You’re both so exhausted, though, that all you manage to extend your energy to is taking your tops off and making out lazily to the songs you’d recommended to each other.

“Mm,” he says when one of your songs starts playing. “It’s a nice song.” You nod with a smile. “I know it is, it’s one of my recommendations. It’s called Softly.” He plays with the strap of your bra. “I’ll give it more of a listen, then. Also, a red bra to school? Whatever will the professors think,” he jokes lightly, pressing insistent, but soft kisses on your shoulder. You laugh, pinching the inner part of his arm and eliciting a swear from him. “I was joking! I know you wore this for me, stupid.” The wind whistles outside, barely audible from the half-open window across the room, overlapping with the music.

This all feels too real, now.

You pout lazily against his bare chest. “Get off before Lia gets in,” you mumble, your heart beginning to race. He does, for what it’s worth, rolling off your bed with a loud thump and tugging his shirt and sweater back on. You watch him (fondly) annoyedly, your hair draping over you as you get up to properly shove him out. “Out, out,” you chant, laughing, and he giggles, turning abruptly to poke at your waist.

“Shut up,” you groan, a smile on your face. There’s a beat, then he pulls you close and kisses you, running outside right after with a literal guffaw. You watch him, wrapping your fleece blanket around your frame as he runs to the elevator, sweater backwards and hair messy.

—

Doubts are normal. This you’re assured of, but your head pounds with the sheer amount of things you’re cramming into it. You squint impossibly harder, trying to get the nail polish into the crook of Lia’s nail. You’ve probably overdone it, judging by the way she jabs her knuckle in between your eyebrows, her face contorted in worry. “Are you…okay?”

You narrow your eyes, the inner debate of telling her raging on and on. The nail polish drips onto her fingernail, rolling onto her pant leg, and she yelps, but her eyes are still on you. “You can tell me anything,” she says, softer this time. You know she’s serious—you know you can. You always have. You told her about every fling, one night stand, pregnancy scare, bad grade, hot professor, and spoiled deli food you’d encountered since you ever became friends. She knew you. And you were so sure she knew what you were about to say.

Except you didn’t know what you wanted to say. Your feelings were a mess, and you wanted one thing as much as you wanted the other. You couldn’t place what you wanted, and if you had to narrow it down, you’d realize that you were scared of what you wanted. You were never really one for commitment, or a relationship, or really anything, for that matter. And the fact that you were so hung up on thinking about what you and Mark would become—Mark? It all seemed so dystopian, almost. Like you’d never expected it. Your friendship was a childhood bubble that popped in the span of your first high school semester, and that was that. But just two days ago you were being kissed all over by the same guy you’d had a cutthroat student council president competition with.

It seemed so absurd? Crazy? Those adjectives were a little over the top. Deep down, if you dug deep enough into the parts you didn’t even tell yourself, you knew what you were. And if anybody else were to know, it would be Lia.

“I’m scared,” you choke out, your voice shaky. “I’m scared and sad, and happy and angry, and I want this but I don’t.” You cover the nail polish, shaking your head. “This is all so new to me. I hate how much I feel, especially because it feels so wrong. You know me—relationships are just not cut out for me. They’re scary and new. And people in relationships turn all gooey. I’m scared that this won’t last, but I’m scared that it will, and I’ll be doomed to an eternity of bland, padlocked relationships. It’s weird. I could be feeling this way for anyone, but it had to be Mark? If only I didn’t hate him, then maybe we could’ve gone off on a better foot. If only this whole thing never fucking happened, right?”

“It’s okay,” Lia cuts in. “Being scared is okay. It’s part of the whole process. And nobody said you had to get along like conjoined twins in a relationship. They just go when they go and end when they end. Not every relationship starts as a high school sweetheart thing and ends with three kids and a picket fence. And I’m so sure Mark would be so understanding if you didn’t like him or if you chose not to continue.”

“You knew?”

She laughs. “Of course I knew. I know a post-sex glow when I see one, and I was blinded that morning at the ski lodge.” You groan, pinching her indignantly, hiding your face in your hands as she laughs out of view. “Okay. Take some time and think about it, but for now, I want to get my nails done, so.” 

—

It’ll be a week before you come up with what you want, and the whole time you generally avoid talking about solemn topics with him in person. 

It’ll be another few days before you finally talk to him personally—with your paper nearly finished, you suggest a meeting at the library. It’s just two days before Christmas Eve, and you know Mark’s going to be driving to Canada, so you want to snatch him away for your own personal time for just a second. The snow has all but thickened as you meet outside the building, the silence deafening.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. You know he’s probably picked up on your erratic, quieter behavior in the past several days, but you gulp and lead him inside anyways, to your favorite section. “It’s almost Christmas Eve,” he says, watching you stall, surrounded by Philosophy books from just about every century. “I know,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too nervous.

“You sound nervous,” he says.

“Do I?” you ask shakily, your voice taking on an unnaturally high pitch. “I mean, er. I guess I sort of am. I guess I’ve been thinking about everything lately—about you and me and everything that just happened so suddenly. Because—because it did happen so suddenly. I just…needed time? Yeah, time. To think about everything. Because it all happened so quickly, I…” you stutter. “I’m scared of these things. I’m not used to them. Relationships? Things that last longer than a couple weeks? I don’t like these. 

I have something bigger I want to focus on and anybody who gets in the way just isn’t worth it. And it’s so weird how it was you out of all people I started thinking about it with. Usually I just have the rare fling and then they’re gone, and I’m not even mad. But you’re different. And I like it. 

But I just needed time to find out if I really liked it. If I really wanted to try. I know it’s only been a few weeks, and I probably sound really fucking stupid, but you get me—you get me, right? And that’s how I realized—if it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I don’t know why I overthought it. I mean, it’s a good thing and a bad thing that I did. Like, on one hand, I got to really think about how this would play out, and on the other, I’d just end up spiraling. And it’s just weird. I hope you don’t know I hated you. Hate you? Hated you. I was just—it was all so juvenile. Everything just stemmed from that one awfully dumb high school rivalry. But other than that, you were always a cool…see what I mean? I’m kind of rambling—even if I thought I had planned this out. And. Yeah. I dunno. I fucking…I hate you, stop laughing.”

Mark smiles down at you—you’re busy pretending to read a Sartre book to look unfazed, but your flickering gaze says it all. 

“Okay, stupid,” he says, bordering onto a laugh. “If that’s your way of saying you’re willing to give this a try, then I graciously accept. Should I be saying something equally long? I—is that how this works?”

You roll your eyes and kiss him instead, pulling him close, Sartre’s postulates dropping to the floor alongside your tiptoes.

—

Stage 4: Acceptance|

“Acceptance is just that. Just accepting that you love that person after weeks or months of all the other stages. With her, it was. Like. It’s the whole sitting down after silence, having some time for the revelation to set in before you realize you love them. Or like them? Well, love them, I guess. But I don’t know why you would be asking me this.”

You bury your head further into Mark’s shoulder, your eyes strained from how long they’d been trained onto your screen. You smile up at Daniel, thanking him for the input and beginning to type it in, watching Lia doze off on his shoulder. “We’re asking because we’re not quite there yet,” Mark hums, “it’s just February. It’s barely been two months.” You nod, watching Mark type where you left off on the document. Daniel snorts from across you. “You’re just about, I guess.” Mark chuckles, shrugging so your head bounces off his shoulder unceremoniously.

“Like I’d ever fall in love with that shitstorm,” he says pointedly.

“Oh, and I’d fall in love with this dickwad?”

“You’re perfect for each other. Bullying, but we all know Mark brought back gifts from Canada and that you stitched an initial onto his sweater.”

“To practice my embroidery. Also, I stitched Mark’s initial. M. Asshole.”

“Okay,” whistles Daniel, his hand unconsciously coming up to make sure Lia doesn’t fall off his shoulder. “But hey, you’re just about to submit this paper and I’m fondly remembering all the times you despised each other. And when you”—he points at you, devilish grin on his face—“started gushing to Lia about how he”—he then turns to Mark—“kissed you at Johnny’s party.”

“God, it’s not the time for that yet, we’re still a fresh couple,” you groan, burying your head in your hands. “You have so much dirt on me, Choi.” Mark just laughs, though, loudly, bringing the other cafe-goers’ attention to yours. He bites your shoulder to stifle it, eliciting a laugh from you. “I agree, there should be a certain time requirement for pre-relationship embarrassing stories,” Mark says, closing his laptop. Lia gets up at that point, already half-awake from the ruckus (AKA Mark’s laugh), pulling on Daniel’s sleeve. “Alright, and that’s my cue to get this girl some more coffee and then go.”

“Mm, I’ll come with,” you say, “I need a refresher before we leave soon, anyway.”

You walk in between them, your fingers laced in Lia’s as she squeezes them sleepily. They order first and then they’re off with a smile and a polite goodbye, leaving you to order your drink. You gaze up at the menu, and then down at—

“Long time no see,” Chan says with a knowing beam. “How is your not boyfriend boyfriend?”

“Well, he’s my boyfriend now.”

“See, I always know. What do you want?”

“An iced ca—how did you know?” You ask, tempted.

“It’s just…the energy? It was a hit or miss, but I kinda got that feeling that something was going to happen.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “An iced caramel then.”

“And a black coffee for her best friend!” Hollers a new voice that you could never miss, turning slowly towards the entrance to meet Donghyuck’s crazy eyes. He’s in a suit, which isn’t unusual given the sheer amount of presentations he’s had to do since the new year started. You roll your eyes but put in the extra cash anyway, much to Chan’s amusement. Hyuck nears you with a sly grin. “I hear you’ll be submitting your paper soon. I just want my name in there so I’m in your professor’s good graces.”

“She’s not even going to be your professor, Hyuck,” you say, taking your drink and smiling at Chan. You and Donghyuck both walk back to where Mark’s sitting, you beside him and Hyuck across the both of you. “Yes, but it pays to be in somebody’s good graces, I swear. See what happened? I got you two together. I orchestrated your entire love st—”

“Okay, now you’re just lying, Hyuck,” Mark says with a laugh, finishing up the first few paragraphs and closing his laptop. “We’re not even in love.” But his friend lets out a teasing smile, his eyes narrowed, and he gets up with a loud farewell and alibi about “being needed by my better friends.” You assume he’s talking about Jeno.

—

You walk to Mark’s room alongside him, thanks to the promise of his roommate, Jaemin, sleeping at a friend’s. Your fingers are intertwined loosely. The sun’s setting and Mark’s room is sheathed in beautiful shades of orange and pink, a vast array of dusk settling over the space. It happens quietly, but full of laughs, which is how it happens when you’re both tired and/or shitfaced. You do this a lot—a routine of sharing new songs or books you’d picked up over the week and then making out while they play in the background or while one of you read. It’s awfully, horribly, terribly fucking intimate. 

“Your bra sucks,” he jokes.

You love it.

“Get better abs and we can talk about it,” you counter, poking his toned stomach. He really, fully guffaws at that, pulling you onto his lap and then tugging his guitar out from where it stands at the corner. You flop back onto his bed, watching him play—and then registering the familiar opening of the Jonas Brothers song you used to request nearly everyday. “Lovebug,” you muse with a smile, singing along to his voice, carried away. You’re sleepy and light, and you know deep down—in that space of yourself where you’re all but honest—that you were going to fall in love with him someday.

Later, when all you’re doing is hugging him as he reads your latest Philosophy requirement to you, he pauses.

“Is this the 21st century idea of love?” He asks idly, unclasping your bra and connecting the moles on your shoulder. You hum. 

“It’s the Gen Z idea,” you say, connecting the ones on his bare back. “And this isn’t love.”

“Corny.” he smiles against your collarbones. You kiss his neck. It’s all very gradual.

—

hope you liked it :) drop an ask! I absolutely love all types of feedback 

#mark lee #mark lee imagines #mark imagines #mark drabbles

[fruitcoops]

Have you ever seen where they get kids to ask the players tough questions and there all dress up and have fake beards and stuff. Maybe you could do that with Jules and Katie asking the team all these really hard questions?????

Thank you for giving me an excuse to spend an hour and a half watching adorable kids ask questions and melt the hearts of celebrities. You’re my hero. There are no fake beards here, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Sweater Weather characters belong to the incredible @lumosinlove!

“These chairs are so small,” James said as he scooted closer to the table. He nearly knocked Talker over with his elbow as the four of them squeezed in; the two kids on the other side shared a look.

“Ready, everyone?” Dorcas asked. When she received six thumbs up, she turned to the camera with a cheerful smile. “Hello, Lions fans, and welcome to Lion Pride! We have a couple of very special guests today to do the introductions.”

“Hello! I’m Katie and I’m six!” She held up six fingers and all four hockey players melted a little bit.

“I’m Julian, and I’m ten.” He waved, a little shy.

Dorcas smiled. “And how are you two related to our favorite Lions?”

Katie lit up and pointed behind the camera. “That’s my dad!”

There was a chuckle in the background. “Can you tell them my name, mon chou?”

“Pascal Dumais, but everyone calls you Dumo.” She swung her legs and her tulle skirt fluffed out.

“Remus Lupin is my older brother,” Jules said with a grin. “But Finn thought he was my dad.”

“It was an honest mistake!” Finn protested around a laugh. “Cut me some slack, Little Loops!”

“Do you want to do the intros for the guys, too?” Dorcas asked. Katie tugged on Jules’ sleeve.

“Can I go first?” she whispered. When he nodded, she hopped out of her chair and ran to the other side of the table, tapping each player on the shoulder. “This is Pots, Talker, Harzy, and Sirius.”

“Aw, man, I didn’t get to do any of them,” Jules pouted.

“You can ask the first question,” Dorcas said, hiding her smile behind her clipboard. “A quick reminder for our Lions: if you refuse to answer any of these, it means you hate children. Take it away, Jules!”

“Okay.” He cleared his throat and looked across the table with a solemn expression. “How many sticks have each of you broken?”

“Oh, that’s a tough one,” James mused. “A lot, but not always on purpose.”

“I haven’t broken that many,” Talker said. “I’ve forgotten to return quite a few to the rink after games, though. I think I have about five in my trunk that I keep meaning to put back.”

“Maybe…ten? Fifteen?” Finn rested his chin on his hand. “I should start a tally board.”

“Too many,” Sirius laughed. “I need to be more careful.”

Katie wiggled in her seat as she picked up the question card. “Why do you swear so much?”

Matching expressions of shock painted all four players’ faces. “Have we sworn in front of you?” Finn asked in a small voice.

“Yeah.”

“Mon dieu, I’m the worst person on earth,” Sirius murmured as Talker leaned his forehead on the table.

James opened and closed his mouth a couple times before answering. “Uh. Well. I don’t know, Katie. Instead of answering, I’m going to take this time to personally apologize to you and your dad, who is laughing his a—his rear end off in the back, as well as promising to form better habits.”

“If you could be any superhero, who would it be?” Jules asked, seemingly unfazed by the previous question. Wordlessly, Sirius gestured to his Captain America t-shirt.

“Spiderman,” Finn said without hesitation. “He’s the coolest.”

James unzipped his jacket to reveal a Superman shirt. “We didn’t coordinate this,” he said, tilting his head toward Sirius. “But yeah, Superman’s the best.”

Talker thought for a moment. “I really like Hawkeye. Are we talking Marvel or DC here?”

“Anything.”

“Anything? Hmm. I’m going to go with the Flash, then.”

“Nice.” Jules reached over to give him a high-five.

“I got Jules’ approval, everyone else can go home.”

“What’s your greatest fear?” Katie asked, still swinging her legs.

The table went silent. Sirius turned to Dorcas. “Is this the plan? Get us rolling with fun stuff and then give the hard ones to the five-year-old in a princess dress?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Cool. Well, munchkin, I don’t like bugs and I’m not a huge fan of the dark.”

“Vegetables,” Finn said sagely, which sent both kids into a fit of giggles and made all the adults break into sunny smiles. “God, you guys are cute.”

“Pomeranians freak me out,” Talker answered once they had calmed down a bit. “They have those tiny little eyes and sharp teeth.”

James shrugged. “I’m not a fan of heights.”

“I thought you wanted to be Superman?” Jules frowned. “He flies all the time.”

“I think I’d be less afraid of heights if I knew I could fly.”

“So you’re afraid of falling, not heights.”

James looked to the camera. “And now I’m getting psychoanalyzed by a ten-year-old. Uh, yeah buddy, I guess so.”

“Hmm.” Jules looked back to the question card. “Who would win in a fight, you or our moms?”

“Your moms,” Talker said immediately as the others nodded. “No contest.”

“How would we even get in that situation?” Sirius asked. “What the did we do to make the nicest women in the world that mad?”

“Stole brownies,” Katie said with great gravity for one so young. “Mom says you four are the worst about it.”

“Mom wouldn’t even have to fight you.” Jules cocked his head to the side. “I feel like she could just give you a disappointed look and that would be enough. Katie, your turn.”

“Yay!” She brightened again. “What is your favorite cereal?”

Sirius smiled. “Fruit Loops.”

“Cheerios,” Talker said. “They’re good for you physically and emotionally.”

“I’m with Talkie on this one,” James agreed.

Finn gave them all disappointed looks. “You’re so old. Mine’s Lucky Charms.”

“Okay, Leprechaun Boy,” James snorted. Finn reached over and smacked the back of his head. “Hey!”

“Do you ever play hockey at home?” Jules asked. “I feel like Sirius doesn’t have to answer this one since it’s so obvious.”

Finn laughed. “Does tapping a puck around on the carpet with brooms counts?”

“Yeah, that counts.”

“Then yeah, sometimes.”

“I have no space in my apartment to play hockey,” Talker said. “Though I plan on moving someday and then the answer will be yes.”

“I made a rink in my backyard.” James smiled slightly. “Lily likes to skate sometimes while I run drills.”

“My turn, my turn!” Katie scooted her chair closer. “Okay. Out of everyone on the team, what two people would you take with you on a dessert island?”

“Desert,” Jules corrected quietly.

“Desert island. Are there deserts on islands?”

“I think they mean like super sandy beaches with no people on them.”

“Oooooohhh.”

James mouthed a thank you to Dorcas, who gave him a thumbs-up in return. The other three looked at the kids with unbearable softness. “Well, I’d feel awful if I took your dad with me, so I think I’m going to go with Finn and maybe Kasey. We’d have a blast.”

“Nice, dude.” Finn fist-bumped him. “Unfortunately for you, my choices are going to be Leo and Logan, since I already know we could live together without starting a war on the third day.”

Sirius thought for a second. “I think Nado would actually be able to survive on a desert island, so I’ll bring him along, and for the second one…maybe Kasey? Yeah, Kasey’s cool.”

In the ensuing silence, Jules gave him a significant look. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

“You’re not on the t—” The realization hit him like a truck; his eyes went wide and he slumped in his seat as the others burst out laughing. “Oh no. Oh, no, no, no.”

“Your own fiancé.”

“Please don’t tell him.”

“He’s gonna laugh so hard,” Jules cackled, leaning back in his chair. Even the camera crew was losing it in the background. Dorcas had to step out of frame. “You’re never going to live it down.”

“Well, the first person I would bring with me is Remus Lupin, because he’s read a lot of books and definitely knows how to survive on a desert island,” Talker said around his snickering. “And then I’d bring Cap, because God knows that would get entertaining after Loops finds out about this. The sarcasm would be off the charts.”

“Okay, next question.” Dorcas came back into view, still grinning. “Jules, go for it.”

“Can I ask Katie’s question again so Sirius can give a better answer?” he asked gleefully. Dorcas hesitated, then shook her head. “Bummer. What was cool when you were young that isn’t cool now?”

“When?” Finn looked scandalized. “I’m 24!”

“Yeah, and?”

“Ugh. Um, maybe Furbies? People were really into Furbies when I was in high school, though I can’t say I’m sorry to see them go out of style.”

James bit his lip in thought. “Tamagotchis.”

“I loved those things!” Talker said excitedly. “My sisters and I used to go nuts with those things!”

Sirius smiled. “Lite Brites.”

Finn’s eyes went wide. “I forgot about those!”

“Regulus and I each had one and we loved them. That was the only thing we agreed on and we used to sit—” He paused for a second to laugh. “—we used to sit in the middle of the ice rink in the backyard, still in our skates and everything, and do Lite Brites for literal hours.”

“That’s so cute, oh my god.” Talker shook his head. “What a nostalgia trip.”

Katie knelt on her seat and rested her arms on the table. “Who skates faster, you or me?”

“You,” all four answered in unison.

Jules rolled his eyes, but he was clearly hiding a smile. “How many push ups can you do?”

“How many can you do?” James countered. A flash of competition lit on Jules’ face and all the guys grinned. “Uh-oh, there’s the Lupin glare.”

“How about we have a little competition?” Dorcas suggested. “See how many everyone can do in thirty seconds?”

“Absolutely,” Finn said. The four of them had a little bit of trouble getting their knees out from under the kid-sized table, but eventually they succeeded and gathered in the middle of the room. “Katie, are you joining us?”

She smiled innocently. “No, I know I’d win.”

“Get ready.” Dorcas pulled her phone out as they knelt. “On your marks, get set, go!”

The guys went easy on Jules from the outset, but they made it look like those pushups were the hardest exercise they had ever done in their lives. Talker took a second to dramatically wipe his forehead and James’ wheezing was almost comical; Jules, however, was giving it his best shot. When the timer finally went off, Finn collapsed with a groan. “I forfeit.”

“Did I win?” Jules panted, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“You did, congratulations!” Dorcas put her timer away and winked at the camera as they headed back to the table. “Great job, everyone. Katie, your turn.”

“Do you live in a mansion?”

“I live in an apartment,” Finn said.

“Same.”

Sirius shook his head. “My house might be big, but it’s not a mansion.”

“Does a two-story house count as a mansion?” James asked. “No? Then no, I don’t.”

“Who is your least favorite person on the team and why?” Jules turned to Sirius with raised eyebrows. “Are we going to have another desert island problem?”

Sirius threw his hands in the air, speechless, as the other three cracked up. “Jules, can I adopt you?” James begged around his laughter. “Please?”

“You’ll have to fight my mom for that, I think.”

“My least favorite person on the team is James Potter,” Sirius sighed. “Not the person I’m getting married to.”

“We could get married. Lily might mind, though.”

“Full offense, but I know way too much about you to ever consider that.”

James ruffled his hair and turned back to the kids. “My least favorite person on the team is Remus Lupin, because he ran me over in practice the other day.”

Finn side-eyed him. “Didn’t you trip him after he stole the puck from you?”

“He ran me over.”

“Sure, Pots. Um, my least favorite is Kasey Winter. He threw ice at me while we were in the ice baths.”

“Logan took my Gatorade last week and hid it all over the rink,” Talker said. “I’ll never forgive him for such a crime.”

“Oh, I like this one!” Katie exclaimed as she looked at her card. “What’s the best birthday party you’ve ever had?”

“My tenth birthday was at Red Robin and I got a Power Ranger outfit.” Talker grinned. “I was the coolest kid on the block.”

“My eighteenth birthday was pretty fun,” Finn said. “There was a bouncy house and Alex almost broke it because we were jumping too hard.”

“Does it have to be my birthday?” James asked. “Because my son’s first birthday party was awesome.”

“Why?”

“He threw cake in Sirius’ face and a food fight broke out in the backyard.”

“That was a pretty great day,” Sirius agreed. “My last birthday party was my favorite.”

“You spent the night with us!” Katie said happily.

“I did, yeah,” he laughed. “And I had a really good time.”

Jules perked up when he read the next question. “I love this one! Do you have a lucky pair of underwear?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, totally.”

“Of course I do.”

“Is there a superstition I don’t have?”

Jules looked especially pleased with those answers as Katie picked up her card. “This is the last one,” she warned. “And it’s super important and super hard. What kind of dog would you be and why? You can take your time, I don’t mind.”

“Thank you, Katie, we’ll need it,” Talker said as he desperately tried to contain his smile. “I’ll go first, if nobody minds. I would be a border collie because one, I love them; two, they have a lot of energy; and three, they love making friends.”

“That’s a good one,” she said seriously. “They’re also very soft.”

“Yes, they are.”

Once Finn managed to suppress his quiet laughter, he raised his hand. “Can I go next?” Katie nodded. “I’d be an Irish setter. They have red hair and they’re really affectionate. Plus, I met one the other day at the park and haven’t stopped thinking about him.”

“This was a tough question, Katie, but I think I’m going to go with a golden retriever,” James said after a moment. “They’re good family dogs and they like to be on the ice with those big ol’ paws.”

“That’s what I was going to say!” She beamed at him. “Sirius, you don’t have to go. I already know what you’d be.”

He raised his eyebrows, looking highly amused. “Do you now? Can everyone else know, too?”

“Well, it’s obvious,” she said. “You’d be Hattie. She looks just like you and she gives the best hugs.”

A small puff of air left Sirius’ lungs and he blinked as James reached over and patted his shoulder. “Oh. Okay.”

“That wraps us up,” Dorcas said, looking between them with a soft smile. “Any closing statements from our guest stars?”

“Ready?” Jules muttered to Katie, who nodded rapidly. “On three. One, two, three!”

“Go Lions!” they shouted in unison with matching grins. The camera crew cheered and the players applauded, all laughing.

“Thank you for tuning in, everyone! Remember to like and subscribe for more content.”

[morizoras-cave]

Kid problems (Request)

MCU cast x child!reader, mostly Scarlett Johansson x reader and Mark Ruffalo x reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Request Description: Please may I request a mcu cast x child!reader where the kids the daughter of a new female superhero actor (made up) and the cast finds up she’s been verbally/ physically abusive so the kid and confront the lady about it and comfort the kid? You don’t have to if this makes you uncomfortable though!

Warnings: physical and emotional child abuse, language, mean insults, bad mom

(A/N): i thought i wasn’t going to write today but i had a (not so) busy day and i fell asleep for like three hours and now i cant sleep, so here we are! ya’ll i feel like this one kinda sucks but lets not talk about it. not proofread as always

“Stay quiet and be polite, and for God’s sake, don’t be so clumsy like you always are!” your mother spoke roughly, eyes on the road in front of her. “Knocking things over and ruining everything..”

“I won’t,” you mumbled quietly. 

She had recently made her big break as an actor, landing the role as Abigail Brand in the Marvel universe. As far as you understood, she had met her coworkers a few weeks ago and it had went well. 

Now, she was bringing you to meet them, because apparently they had spoken about how it was cool for kids to see a movie set, and your mom had run out of excuses not to bring you.

You were determined to be quiet and polite and to not be clumsy. All you wanted was to please your mother and make her proud. She just always seemed so angry. But that was your fault.

“Alright, we’re here,” your mother sighed. She exited the car and opened your door, practically dragging you out of the vehicle and into the filming area. You didn’t really understand anything or what anything was, so you just stayed quiet and stayed close to your mother, although avoiding touching her. She was always extra violent after you did so.

“M/n! You’re here, and with this little nugget?” a man with a funny beard and cool sunglasses came up to you. He smiled and then crouched down to your level. Your mom laughed awkwardly. “What’s your name?”

“Uh, Y-Y/n.” 

The man smiled at you and you smiled back cautiously, looking to your mom to see if it was okay. She seemed annoyed like always. 

“She’s shy, huh?” the man joked, and got up again. You watched, anxious to mess up. Maybe this time you could finally satisfy your mother and stop being such a useless child.

“Yeah, she is. I try to tell her to be more talkative, but she’s just naturally like this,” your mom smiled warmly at the man. Now you were even more confused. Did she want you to talk more? No, right?

You were introduced to the rest of them. Their names were Robert, Mark, Chris, Chris (again), Jeremy and Scarlett. They were very nice to you. They were very careful and caring, and it made you wish your mom was like that. 

You mostly just watched them work and talk. Eventually you sat down drawing, because you were bored.

“Can I see that?” Scarlett asked, gesturing to the drawing you were working on. You shyly nodded and stopped drawing, putting the crayons down. “Woow, that’s so pretty!” 

You shook your head, “no, it’s not.” Scarlett looked at you in confusion. 

“Why would you say that?” she asked, caressing your arm carefully. 

“My mama says my drawings are bad,” you mumbled. Scarlett looked up at your mom in confusion. Your mom was already dashing over to you, having heard the conversation.

“She means her nana, I call my mom mama and so she calls her mama.. My mom is not very good around kids,” your mom explained away. You furrowed your brows. You didn’t mean nana? You and mama stopped talking to nana long ago. 

Scarlett, who had previously tensed up, relaxed and let out an understanding laugh, “oh! I got worried there for a second!”

Your mom made a strained smile and then looked down at you. She had that glint in her eyes, although her face was friendly, you could tell she was disappointed. You teared up right then and there, so tired of disappointing her.

“Alright, Y/n, let’s go to the bathroom,” she grabbed your small hand roughly, and pulled you away from the nice adults. Tears rolling down your face, as your mom brought you into the women’s bathroom. 

“You little-” she cut herself off, gritting her teeth and checking if there were people in the stalls. There weren’t and she turned back to you with that angry face. 

“How dare you? Can’t you ever just stay quiet like I tell you to? You useless child! You were a mistake!” she hissed. It hurt you so bad, it felt so bad, and your crying worsened as you attempted to stammer out an apology. 

Your mother slapped you across the face. “Stop crying, you nuisance,” she said and indeed you forced yourself to stop crying. You held it in, trembling. 

Meanwhile Scarlett and Mark had been walking past the bathrooms, when they heard the slap. Of course, to them it could’ve been a lot of things. They exchanged glances, and Scarlett had said that she’d check it out. 

She walked quietly into the echoing bathroom, stopping when she heard the sound of angry and aggressive whispers.

“You’re so stupid and useless. You have no talent. Just stay quiet from now on! Shut the fuck up.” 

Scarlett was shocked to hear your mother’s voice. It took a moment for Scarlett to realize who she was talking to, and the thought drew a very real gasp out of her. Now, not giving two shits, she stepped away from the wall to see your mother crouched down in front of you, an almost animalistic expression on her face.

“M/n! How dare you!” was all she could say. Her instant reaction was to simply walk over to you, and get you away from your mother, but as she tried to your mother grabbed your arm. The both of them tugged at you.

“Get away from my baby!” your mom yelled. The commotion drew Mark to enter the bathroom, bewildered at the situation. Your mom and Scarlett both tugging at you, and you in the middle, red face and puffy eyes, conflicted as ever.

“What’s going on here?”

Mark’s sudden presence startled your mother, and in a moment of surprise, she let go and you fell into Scarlett’s grasp. She picked you up in her arms, and just started walking out of the bathroom.

Mark followed, looking between you and your mother. Scarlett didn’t know where she walking, but far from that witch. 

“M/n was- she was saying these horrible things to Y/n. Like, seriously horrible things,” Scarlett said. Meanwhile she rubbed your back and held you close, something that made you feel so nice inside. Your mother never did that. 

“I think what we heard was- Like, a slap?” Scarlett said, and when she met Mark’s eyes, he too had gotten a serious and worried look in them. He turned to you, resting on Scarlett’s chest.

“N/n, uh, did your mom hurt you, by any chance?” he asked and you stirred from your resting place.

“Hurt?”

“Like, hit you in any way?” 

“Mhmm,” your simple hum, like it was the most normal thing in the world, made the two adults’ hearts sink. 

“ScarJo, Ruffalo!” Chris (Hemsworth) greeted, but his cheerful welcome, did nothing to cheer up the two shaken adults. 

“Downey, you gotta call the Russos and tell them to get another Abigail Brand,” Mark instructed, while Scarlett put you down on the couch and then looked down the hallway to see if your mom was running after you. Ominously, she was nowhere to be seen. Scarlett couldn’t decide what was worse: if she had run after you, or the fact that she just left you. 

“What? We’re weeks into filming?” Chris (Evans) exclaimed. Him and Jeremy were sitting by a table behind Robert and the other Chris. 

Scarlett gave them knowing look and pulled up the sleeve of your small, purple sweater. Your tiny arm was littered with bruises, now and old. The others’ eyes widened, and there was a moment of silence where everyone looked at each other in confusion, anger and hurt. 

“I’ll go talk to them,” Downey said, smiling to you softly, before disappearing to somewhere else on set. 

“Where is M/n now?” Chris (Evans) asked. Him and the other two, Jeremy and Chris (the other one), seemed much angrier (not that the others weren’t but perhaps a different type of angry).

“I don’t know, I think she left in the opposite direction,” Scarlett murmured and Mark nodded. Without a word, Chris, Chris and Jeremy stood up and started walking down the hallway to find your mom.

You just watched in confusion mostly, as everyone scattered purposefully. Mark and Scarlett then finally turned to you. 

“Where’s mama?” you asked innocently. The two shook their heads.

“Your mom isn’t good for you..” You furrowed your brows. 

“What do you mean? Does she not want to be with me anymore? Can you tell her I’m trying really hard? I don’t why, but I keep messing up,” you said, your lip trembling. You could cry again. Was your mother leaving you, disappointed in your work at being a good daughter? 

“No, no.. Your mom is the one is that wasn’t good enough for you. Moms shouldn’t hit and yell at their kid like that..” Scarlett sighed, holding your hand comfortingly. 

“Oh..” was all you said. Your mom was fired and the proper authorities were called. You didn’t really know what happened, but somehow your entire day-to-day changed. You started talking to a nice lady, who was trying to explain to you why your mom was bad. You still didn’t understand it, but hopefully you would in the future.  

You were adopted by some very nice old people. The adults from that day stayed in touch with them, and sometimes some of them came over with their kids and you played together. 

The day you met them, changed your entire life, and when you did grow up, and you realized why your mom was ‘bad’, you felt eternally grateful to them, for putting your life on a better course. And you made sure to let them know, when you did meet them every once in a while. They were just happy to see that you were seemingly unscathed by this, and that your mom’s evil actions hadn’t ruined you in any way. You were happy and bright and you could thank it all to them. :)

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer​ @marvel-madness​ @40srogcrs​ @whatthefuckimbisexual​ @ireadfanficforfun

#scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson x reader #mark ruffalo #mark ruffalo x reader #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth x reader #chris evans #chris evans x reader #jeremy renner #jeremy renner x reader #robert downey junior #robert downey jr #robert downey jr x reader #mcu cast x reader #mcu x reader #mcu #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel cast x reader #avengers #avengers cast x reader #avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #avengers cast x teen!reader

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𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 ~ 𝐃.𝐇 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Just a little idea that’s been in my head for a while :)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4K

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Um? Aliens? Bad language? Bad writing?

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: There was nothing left, no one left. No one but you and the shy little girl you had learnt to love as a daughter. The two of you were surviving, praying to god that the company would rescue you, not realizing that it would only bring more danger, and introduce you to some of the most important people of your life.

You and Newt followed the marines through what remained of the complex, keeping her close to you and flinching at every small sound.

Your footsteps were echoing dangerously loudly through the desolate corridors, and you couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of them knowing exactly where you were, and you were sure that by now they did.

Between the misfires, footsteps and terrible attempts at whispering, you were just a herd of lambs waiting for the slaughter, helpless and afraid.

“This is it.” A voice from the front of the group said as you reached Operations.

Your grip on Newts shoulder tightened as the door slid open with a hiss, and everyone was quickly ushered inside.

“Right.” A man said, smaller and far less intimidating then the others. “I need a medic for the survivors, and I want to speak with them when they’ve been cleared to see if we can find out what happened here. Ripley, you stay with them-” You noticed some of the soldiers rolling their eyes as he spoke, and the man who had helped you up let out a small chuckle. -”The rest of you are going to be with me and Apone.”

The marines lazily followed the man and ‘Apone’ towards the other side of the room, surrounded by computers and screens that probably wouldn’t even be any help.

A woman approached you and Newt with a somewhat sympathetic smile. “Who wants to go first?”

Newt’s eyes widened, scared, and you took a small step forward, silently letting the woman know that you’d be going first.

She gestured towards an empty desk and you were able to push yourself up onto it with a bit of struggle, only now realizing how much muscle you had lost since all of this began.

The woman began a standard medical exam as Ripley stood not too far behind her, placing a supportive hand on Newt’s shoulder as she watched you with wide eyes, observing the way the woman checked your eyes, ears, mouth and heart rate amongst other things.

“You’re physically fine, so there’s nothing to worry about there.” The woman said to you, taking a step back for you to push yourself up off the desk. “Have you got a name?”

You hesitated, wondering if you should trust these people. You knew they had been sent to rescue you, but they also had no idea what they were dealing with, and they had been sent by the company.

Ripley nodded encouragingly at you, and you opened your mouth, struggling to find the words. You and Newt had learnt to communicate either silently or as quietly as possible, and your throat was already aching from shouting earlier.

“Y/n.” You croaked out. “Y/n L/n.”

“Y/n.” Ripley repeated, and you nodded. “It’s pretty.”

“Thank you.” You mumbled as the other woman gestured for Newt to come forward. “It’s ok sweetie.” You said when you noticed how hesitant she was. “She just wants to make sure you’re nice and healthy.”

Newt slowly made her way forward, and you felt concern and worry rise in your chest as the marine picked her up and sat her on the desktop you hand just been on. After everything you’d been through together, you thought of Newt as a baby sister, or daughter even, and the only person you truly trusted with her was yourself.

Newt’s medical exam began, and a voice from behind you caused you to jump.

“Update?”

It was the same man from earlier, the one you had seen the marines rolling their eyes and snickering at.

“Hello to you too Gorman.” The medic smiled tightly at him. “The older one, Y/n, seems to be as healthy as she could be given the situation. I still have to check over the child though.”

“Good.” Gorman said, looking over towards you. “Now ma’am, Y/n, if you wouldn’t mind following me, we’ll get you something to eat and drink, and ask you a few questions.”

You looked over to Newt, wanting to stay with her, but the other part of you knew that you didn’t want to discuss all of this with Newt around. She had been exposed to so much, but she was still a child and it was your job to keep her as shielded as possible from it all now, keeping what remained of her innocence intact.

“Go.” Ripley said to you, with kind eyes. “I’ll watch her, make sure she’s safe until you get back.”

Something about the way she said it reassured you, and after a moment of hesitation you nodded.

“Ok.” You looked at Gorman, and he gestured toward the marines, who had all spread out by now and were doing their own tasks. “Follow me.”

The two of you walked through the Operations room, and you felt stares as you followed Gorman to a small group of about three marines who were seated by the door to what looked like a break room.

“Any requests?” He asked, throwing a glance towards the break room.

You felt your mouth begin to salivate. You hadn’t drank anything but dirty water for the past few weeks, and you almost forgot that other beverages existed.

“Coffee?” You asked in a tiny voice, sounding far more broken and defeated than it had when they had found you.

When they had first found you they had seen the hard exterior you had to put on to survive, a woman who would do anything and everything to keep herself and Newt safe, a woman who you wouldn’t even recognize in the mirror. Now they saw the real you; the you that came out when Newt was sleeping and you were crying silently beside her, mourning what your lives had once been.

This you was a broken shell of the past you, merely a weak, exhausted twenty year old woman whose life had been snatched away from her far too early.

“Hicks?” Gorman asked, taking a seat at the desk. “Fancy making the lady a coffee?”

You cast your eyes over to Hicks as he let out a small sigh, and felt your breath hitch in your throat as you realized you had finally put a name to the handsome face who had helped you up.

“No problem.” He said, looking at you instead of Gorman. “C’mon.”

You followed him into the break room, feeling guilty as he pulled out a mug and made his way to the coffee machine.

“Sorry.” You said quietly, surprised if he’d even be able to hear you.

“For what?” His eyebrows furrowed and he turned his head to look at you, seemingly shocked that you were apologizing.

“Well this isn’t exactly your job is it?” You asked, and you winced at your raspy voice. “Making coffee for rescued colonists?”

He let out a small chuckle, in turn causing you to smile, something you hadn’t done in a long, long time.

“No, I can’t say it is. I’d rather be in here with you then out there with Gorman though.” He said, turning on the coffee machine and fiddling around with it.

It was your turn to let out a small laugh.

“Yeah he doesn’t seem to be too popular around here. Can’t imagine why.”

Hicks exhaled sharply through his teeth. “Well if you need help we made a list last night.”

You laughed again, wrapping your arms around yourself. Laughing felt foreign to you after having gone so long without it. There wasn’t much to smile at in this miserable joint, let alone laugh at, and it felt strange to you.

“I don’t even wanna know if that’s true or not.” You shook your head as the two of you waited for the coffee machine to finish.

A comfortable silence fell over the small room, and you found yourself closing your eyes, pretending it was normal for just a few seconds.

“So.” Hicks said, pulling you out of the fantasy and causing your eyes to snap open. “Why, if you don’t mind me asking, were you so afraid?”

You tilted your head, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“When we first found you.” He elaborated. “You know that we’re here to help, right?”

You let out a sigh and ran a hand through your greasy hair.

“Look, no offense Hicks, but you were sent here by the company. I don’t exactly trust the guys up there if you know what I mean.” You said, peering out the door at a civilian looking man wearing a suit, who had obviously been sent by Weyland Yutani. “I think I’d be better off surviving on my own than trusting them.”

He just nodded, taking your words in before the coffee machine beeped, interrupting.

He poured the hot liquid into the mug and handed it to you. A small smile appeared on his face as he watched you gently blow on it and take your first sip of coffee in weeks.

“Beautiful.” You said with your eyes closed, savoring the taste.

He let out a small chuckle, and the two of you headed out of the room, joining Gorman and the others at the desk.

You took an empty seat and placed your coffee on the desk, missing the warmth from your hands.

“Ok Y/n,” Gorman said, jumping straight to the point. “Let’s start from the beginning.”

You let out a shaky breath and jammed your hands into the pockets of your thin jacket.

“Umm, well, I suppose it began when a few colonists were sent out to some coordinates. No one really knows what happened out there, they kept everything confidential, but when they came back...” You trailed off, staring out the window into the wasteland, wondering where the hell that thing had come from.

“Y/n?” Gorman asked.

“Sorry.” You let out an unsure chuckle. “Uh, yeah. They came back with this, this thing wrapped around the face of one of them, and uh, he kinda just went straight into medical. Barely any of us colonists were aware, so when it came off he kind of just went back to his normal life, and then,” you sucked in a sharp breath and when you started to speak again your voice was shaky, “then I remember one day, he was walking through the hallway, and I had been there, walking towards him. He um, he got these chest pains or something, and the next thing we all knew he was letting out these awful, awful screams, and some- something came out of his chest.”

You looked at the faces around you, all with sympathetic expressions, silently encouraging you to go on.

“There was blood everywhere. We weren’t able to get him to a doctor in time, and he died there in front of me. The thing that came out of him though, it was shrieking, and it ran off before anyone managed to get a good look at it really.” You felt yourself choking up as you relived the horrible memories. “And since that day more and more people just started disappearing, and the people who went looking for them never returned either. Some of us wanted to fight back, tried building barricades and fighting with everything they had, others, like me hid. Newt and I are the only ones left.”

Gorman let out a deep sigh from beside you. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” You said with a sad smile on your face. Some sick and twisted part of you was happy, glad that you had managed to survive instead of dying alongside your friends and family. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” You pushed yourself up from the chair and picked up your cup of coffee. “I have to go check on Newt.”

“I’ll join you.” Gorman said.

You gave him a small nod as the two of you stood, briefly meeting Hicks’ eye before turning and walking to where you could see Ripley and Newt.

You and Gorman walked side by side towards them, watching as Ripley gently wiped Newt’s face with a cloth.

“Hi baby.” You smiled at her as you reached her, before looking at Ripley. “Thank you.”

“No problem, I was just cleaning up Rebecca’s face.” Ripley said with a comforting smile, something about it was oddly maternal and it put you at ease.

“Newt.” Came a small voice from beside you.

“What?” Ripley asked, shocked at her speaking.

“My name is Newt. Nobody calls me Rebecca, except my brother.”

Ripley smiled again.

“Newt? I like that.”

“How did you know her name was Rebecca?” You asked, tilting your head.

“Her colonist ID number was stitched into her jacket.” Ripley explained. “I got Hudson to run it through your system.”

You nodded, keeping your mouth shut. You had spoken enough today, and your throat was starting to pay the consequences.

Gorman took the cap on his head off and turned to Ripley, speaking quietly.

“Ripley, based off of Y/n’s story we believe that your alien was here too, and lots of them. Right now I’ve got Hudson scanning for PDT’s to find out where all of these colonists are, and I need you to be ready when we find them.”

“I got it.” Ripley said, giving him a tight smile as he turned and walked off.

The lieutenant made his way over to where a few marines, Hicks included, were now huddled around a computer screen.

“So who’s this, hmm?” Ripley asked Newt, picking up the doll head she had found in the trash last week.

“Casey.” Newt mumbled.

“Hello Casey.” Ripley tilted her head sideways, getting a good look at the doll. “What about your brother?” She looked back at Newt. “What’s his name?”

“Timmy.”

“Is Timmy around here too?” Ripley asked and you nudged her gently, trying to silently tell her to drop it.

Newt stayed silent.

“No.” You said. “Can we drop this now?”

“Sorry.” Ripley said quietly. “What about you guys? How did you meet?”

“We bumped into each other in an air vent.” You let out a small laugh. “We both had found food, and decided to share it, and we’ve been together since.”

“Well I’m glad the two of you managed to find each other.” She said.

“I-” You were cut off abruptly by a voice from the group of marines.

“Yo! Stop your grinnin’ and drop your linen! Found ‘em.”

Your heart stopped. Had they found the rest of the colonists?

#the alien franchise #aliens (1986) #dwayne hicks #hicks #corporal hicks #imagine #dwayne hicks x reader #hicks x reader #corporal hicks x reader #underrated characters

[beyscape]

The Intern - 2

Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: Being Andy’s intern meant you got to spend more time by his side more than anyone. This was fine, however, until feelings got in the way and made things complicated

Word Count: 2.4k (can you tell I get carried away? ‘cause I get carried away)

Warnings: Age gap, technically cheating, swearing and stuff, mention of rape

A/N Contains spoilers from episodes 1-4.

Chapter 1    Chapter 2   Chapter 3    Chapter 4   Chapter 5

 Andrew Stephen Barber was a good man by all means. A good citizen, a good father, an exceptional defense attorney, trying his best to be a good husband, Andy Barber believed he was a good man. Standing in the line to grab a cup of coffee, however, made him question his entire belief system. He had tried to ignore the hushed whispers, the pointed looks, the way whenever he entered a room it would all go very silent for a second; he had told Jake and Laurie to ignore them, that they didn’t know anything. That that’s what people do, gossip. He was now really understanding how hard it was to simply ignore when people were so blatant with their gossiping. With their cold stares.

 He never had friends, not proper ones where he could grab a beer with after work or talk to them about whatever was going on in his mind. He thought he did, but these past couple of weeks proved how much of his supposed friends were mere acquaintances. It never bothered him anyways, he never felt the particular need for that sort of closeness in his life. He was used to being alone, that’s how he had grown up, not needing anyone and learning how to survive on his own. He had his son and his wife, though latter feeling as far away as any stranger would at that point. They simply had stuff to take care of together, Andy could feel that Laurie was itching to finally get away once the dust settled. So, when the inevitable papers arrived finally, Andy would be left to his devices one more time..

But then again, there was you.

His gaze turned to you, watching your movements as you waited in the passenger seat of his car, your head laying against the window. He watched you fiddle with the ends of your hair, clearly lost in thought, and it took everything in him to not smile. Poker faces, Joanne had said to them, they had to keep their cool and not lose their composure, not with so many eyes around them. Waiting to catch a mistake, a single slip of the tongue, the smallest of gestures.

He thanked the barista quietly after grabbing the two paper cups of the coffee placed in front of him, pushing the glass doors with his feet as best as he could without sending the cups in his hands flying. No one in the relatively packed coffee shop made a move to help him. He hadn’t expected them to anyways.

His movement grabbed your attention at last as he made his way towards the black car parked towards the back of the lot, a smile spread on your lips then. It was the same one you gave him when he wasn’t looking, that shy, small smile seemingly lighting up your face with adoration. This time it wasn’t when he was unaware though, and even that thought was a whole another thing to make you happy even amidst everything going on. This time Andy couldn’t help it as a smile matching yours very closely appeared on his face as well upon seeing the look you gave him.

Many things in Andy Barber’s life was royally fucked up and it had been for some time now, but a tiny voice in his head quipped up to remind him that not everything was bad, not the young woman smiling up at him. Andy felt a surge of gratefulness fill his chest.

That night at the park he had acted on his impulses, he tried to chalk it up to him being tired, confused, what with everything going on. You were a friendly face he had stumbled upon on a night filled with desperation. His excuses didn’t last however and when he woke up the next morning, Andy knew he had to stop lying to himself. He tried to deny the fact that he had been wanting to kiss you for some time now, to hold you close but he had kept it all locked away in the deepest corner of his heart in the name of being professional. That, and he wanted to protect you. He knew any move on his part could very possibly lead to a mess of problems with his family and even more so with your work. Andy was well aware of how much you loved your job and the career plans you had told him that one night, and he couldn’t dismiss all of that just because he couldn’t keep his feelings under control.

That night at the park however, was the night where he decided he was done with keeping his feelings under control. He could do it in a courtroom in front of a judge, he could do it with the people of his once loved town scrutinizing his every move, he could do it under the cold stare of his wife, but not you. Not anymore.

So, under the dim light of the street lamp above and the shadows covering everywhere the light didn’t touch that one late night, he had kissed you. And even more surprisingly, didn’t regret it one bit. Not the way he thought he would have. If he had known before how easy it was to kiss you time after time in that cold night, Andy was sure he would have done it way earlier.

“Hi.” You said as you carefully grabbed your cup out of his hands, your eyes meeting his while your fingertips slightly grazed each other for a split second. You wished to reach over the seat, to get closer, you had waited enough for this moment, and he was so close, looking at you with that same deep softness in his eyes- you let out a shaky breath.

You had met the next day after the park, knowing damn well there was a lot to discuss. After kissing you, resting his forehead against yours and holding you close for a moment that felt too short, Andy had told you to go home and get some rest. He had insisted on dropping you off at the house you lived with your friend, the ten-minute car drive filled with silence save for the quiet tunes of the radio. He had placed the gentlest of kisses on your lips before giving you a tired smile, and only driving off once he saw you safely go in. It was another restless night with no way of sleep, but for the first time in a while, it was because of something good.

Finding an empty corner of the park was easy, even in the daylight the park didn’t host many visitors during that time of the year. You both were awkward at first, acting like high school lovers unsure of what to do or say to one another. After minutes of hushed conversation and reckless, stolen kisses you had come to a decision about keeping things extremely low-key. You and Andy were well aware that even though whatever this was between you was exciting and new, the top priority was defending Jacob and making sure he got his innocence proven. So, you had to keep things seemingly strictly professional, not allowing space for even the smallest of rumours.

It hadn’t been easy however, both desperate to see each other as soon as possible. Thus, here you were, sitting in his car drinking mediocre coffee, trying to avoid prying eyes.

“Hi yourself.” The twinkle in his eyes seemed to return in the past week, maybe not entirely but he was getting there. You talked about the case for a while, discussing other possible suspects and who could have done such a thing, when the fat droplets of rain started to fall and roll down the front window.

“Y/N, I want to tell you something.” The tone of his voice made you look at him carefully, you noted how his burrows were not furrowed with his lips cursed in a small scowl.

“You know you can tell me anything, Andy.” You replied, meaning every word. He sighed at that, clearly struggling with how to start.

“I never told this to anyone, and only told Laurie and Jacob vert recently because they had to know. My father, you see,” he trailed off, blowing on his still steaming coffee a little before taking a careful sip, doing everything he could do delay what he was about to tell you. He was scared of you hating him or being afraid of him or even worse, pitying him once he revealed his darkest of secrets, but he knew that sooner or later it would come up in the case. He thought at least he could be the first one to let you in on the skeletons he had deep in his closet. He sighed again, his gaze following the rain droplets, he couldn’t bring himself to face you in that moment.

“He wasn’t a good man. When I was about five years old, he raped and murdered a college girl, she was barely nineteen. I, I struggled with that throughout my entire childhood even though I didn’t exactly understand what was going on. And when I was old enough to get it, it didn’t make things easier. It fucked me up and still, after almost forty years, the whole thing still haunts me. Haunts my thoughts, my dreams, and now with Jake’s case it all came rushing back. Like the dam I had built to keep it repressed broke suddenly and all of it just, flooded right in.” There it was. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was afraid of the reaction you would give, Andy wasn’t sure how he would take it if you acted the way Laurie had when she found out. He instantly regretted that he even made that comparison however when he felt your warm hand wrap up his, not quite being able to cover it all. He raised his eyes to yours.

“You are not alone anymore, Andy. Thank you for sharing this with me, and please know that from now on, you’ve got me in your corner. You no longer need to pretend everything’s just great; you have me. Talk to me, and we will get through it, okay? No matter what.” One hand wrapped around his big one, you placed another hand on his thigh, all you could do in that moment to reassure him that everything was fine.

He felt it again, that rush of warmth spreading in him as he stared at you in disbelief. How had you known those were the exact words he was internally dying to hear? His gaze traced your face, your eyes burning bright with determination, your lips, those beautiful lips he craved oh so much giving him a reassuring smile. He ran a ginger hand over the hair falling down your face, barely touching, hesitant to go too far that he couldn’t hold back. Painstakingly he had to remind himself that you were still in a public parking lot, where it was so easy to get caught even with the pouring rain outside of the car as he drew his hand back, resting it on top of yours, hidden completely from the view.

“I have to go see him in prison, and I don’t know if I can do it.” He confided in you, finding it so easy to talk about whatever was bothering him, scaring him… He had never had that kind of a connection before, not even with Laurie.

“Do you want me to come with you?” You didn’t think about the technicalities. You didn’t think about why that was probably a bad idea, there could be press around, how would you get the time off, what if people saw you and many more reasons why you shouldn’t didn’t even cross your mind for all you could focus on at that moment was how small Andy had looked when he uttered those words to you. This man with broad shoulders, well-built physique who commanded whatever room he entered had looked so small in that moment. Your eyes never left his, worried that if you broke the gaze the whole moment would shatter all around you. He nodded once. Twice.

“I would like that.” He looked around, his eyes scanning the surroundings for people, but the rain that had picked up its speed was acting as a curtain drawn between you and the rest of the world.

Satisfied with what he saw, Andy turned back to face you, cupping the sides of your face between his big hands. He leaned in without any hesitation holding him back, he had been waiting for an opportunity like this and heaven knows you were in the same position as him. Your lips met in the middle and immediately sent tingles down your spine, the gentleness of the kiss conveying so many words between. The kiss was different from the heated, passion filled ones at the park that night, and different from the secretive, exciting ones of the day after. No, this kiss was sweeter than them, so sweet you thought you could get drunk off of Andy’s lips, both of his hands still cupping your cheeks.

 It was over in a moment, not satisfying the need as you hoped it would, instead it seemed to make your craving even harder to ignore.

You knew you would have to leave soon, before Neal started questioning why your coffee run had taken so long and Andy would have to go back to his house, trying to fend off the occasional reporters still waiting around his house to get one more statement from him. You both were uncomfortably aware of the pressing issues in your life, almost working together on purpose to keep you apart after a year of pining and dreaming.

“Soon”, Andy reassured you after placing kiss after kiss to your lips, to the corner of your mouth, on top of your nose. “Soon, this whole thing will blow out and we will be free to do whatever we want.”

“Together,” you kissed the palm of his hand still resting on your cheek, not wanting to let go, “we will figure it out together.”

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I had to get this in writing before sleep so guess who went to bed at 5 a.m? I wanted to wait and watch episode 5 before writing some of the more important scenes, so here have whatever this is. My inbox is open for requests, asks, feedback or just to talk about Chris! 

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n #andy barber fanfiction #defending jacob #defending jacob fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #andy barber imagine

[regrettablewritings]

If there’s still a slot: General headcanons for Ella Lopez of Lucifer?

Yii, you caught the tail end :3

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?: You did, and it was a struggle for the both of you. For you, it was because Ella was everything you weren’t: Extroverted, bubbly, and just all-around so heart-throbbingly lovely that her mere presence overwhelmed you, yet also brought you a sense of peace. But your shy and introverted nature made even looking directly at her a huge hassle. For Ella, it was because the last time she’d been asked out, she nearly got killed. She didn’t want to consider what happened to her a source of trauma, but the series of events definitely left their mark on her, leaving her extremely hesitant when it came to anyone looking for a date. At least with bad boys, she had a vague idea of what she was getting into. But with seemingly pleasant people? There was simply no shortage to how many awful possibilities there were. She really was tempted to turn you down, as much as a part of her died a little at the thought. She wanted to believe that you weren’t bad -- after all, what were the odds that she would wind up dating a serial killer twice in a row, let alone in a lifetime? Thankfully, she had a fallen angel by her side: Never one to miss out on potential interference, Lucifer happily stepped in and “studied you himself” (read: asked you what your desire was) and was nauseated yet relieved to report that your answer was “to kiss Ella Lopez and hold her hand and bring her flowers on Wednesdays just because, and to -- ”. He was more than happy to vouch for you, so long as you put a lid on it. Keeping all this in mind, it should go without saying that it was an awkward start for the two of you. But then again, as you both got into the groove of things, not a regret was to be found even six months later.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?: As happy as you were when Ella accepted your proposal for a date, it also set you on an inward panic: You honestly didn’t think you’d get this far. Now you actually had to think up a date. Someone as outgoing and wonderful as Ella deserved a whole slew of activities just as impressive as her, but the problem was that you couldn’t think of any as they practically bottlenecked in your brain. Plus, the idea of going to some of these large gatherings just made your anxiety spike at the mere thought of it. You tried outsourcing, asking friends and colleagues for input, but that turned out to be a mistake. The biggest offender was, of course, Lucifer, who told you take her for a night out on the strip (and maybe do a little stripping of your own for good measure). You wanted to kick your ass for being such a coward, but it was Chloe’s advice you settled on: Just a simple coffee date to get to know one another. You wanted nothing more than to drown yourself in the mug you clutched with dread as you sat in the hipstery coffee shop you’d invited Ella to. Way to go, (Y/N), you berated. You finally ask her out and the best you can do is a basic coffee date? What hetero nonsense is this!? Now she’s going to know what a loser you are -- “Hey, are you okay?” Ella questioned, brows knitted with concern. You could feel non-coffee-induced heat rising to your cheeks. “Y-yeah,” you lied. Your grip tightened on the cup. “I just, um . . .” You sighed; lying wasn’t ever really your strongest suit. “I’m sorry. I kinda flopped on the whole date thing. I knew I should’ve gone with something a bit more impressive but I chickened out -- ” “Oh no no no! I actually really appreciate it! Seriously, it’s um . . . It’s nice to try and keep things simple sometimes, y’know?” And she meant it: Given how things went with the he-who-shan’t-be-named, Ella could see the value in just getting to be in a calm environment instead of being ushered into a noisy one. Besides, what better way to get to know you? Or to contrast with her previous dating situations? Chloe might’ve been on to something when she suggested you keep it small and simple: Cliche as it was, it worked, and it was that sort of moment that made you realize all the more that there were no real regrets to be had by asking out Ella Lopez.

What was their first kiss like?: Startling, though not in a bad way. You just didn’t think she’d want to kiss you. After all, this was still early on when you were nervous about her even sticking around: You were shy, not what she was known for dating, and she was still pretty hesitant about dating at all due to the last guy to come around. Or so you thought. While it was true that the scars had left their marks, this didn’t mean that Ella was uncertain about where she wanted this to go: On the contrary, after a month of going out (thanks to your patience), she already reached her conclusion. And she reached it the moment you spiraled into a nervous, babbling mess. She thought it was actually very cute how you got kickstarted into a practical infodump on how Seduction of the Innocent essentially paved the way for how the west at large interprets comic books. You, however, found it embarrassing and felt compelled to frantically apologize for it. But in spite of Ella’s insistence that it was okay, you kept insisting right back that it was weird. As the young lady saw it, the only way to shut you up was to provide a very sudden but very thorough lip lock. You stammered to a slow halt when she cupped your cheeks, but the kiss was ultimately a good measure. And it certainly did shut you up on the matter. For the rest of the night, all you could think about was that kiss, and what subjects you could possibly ramble about to get you more.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?: You’re Ella’s first actually decent partner. And considering what that means, it’s not something to take lightly. There’s an actual adjustment period for her, realizing that the most malicious thing you plan to do to her is to maybe at most eat some of her fries whenever you pick up McDonald’s for her when she’s working late.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?: At 5′4″, Ella is a tiny bit itty bitty when compared to some of her peers. But, hey, do with that knowledge what you will. (And I honestly have no idea how old Ella is supposed to be because her actress is in her 40s but the way she plays Ella indicates that she’s probably in her early 30s at most.)

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?: Considering that Ella has a complex relationship with her own family, it wouldn’t be shocking to say that your own attempts to learn more about them have been . . . less than ideal. You haven’t actually met any of them in person due to the distance, but it’s also because Ella just isn’t ready for you to properly meet them just yet. It’s nothing to say about your relationship, but Ella knows that her family and some of their more troubling behaviors might not be the best thing to get you into right now. The most you might get is the occasional quick chat Ella puts on speakerphone, so it’s hard for you to get any real grasp on how they see you. But you’re not one to really push things, and you certainly won’t start now. If and/or when Ella is ready to cross that bridge, you’ll be ready, too. Ella hasn’t directly met your family, either, but at least she’s talked to them on the video calls you usually have with them. Your family is stunned when they learn you’re dating Ella: You never struck them as the type to date somebody so outgoing, much less be the one to ask the outgoing person out! But they’re definitely happy for you: You clearly don’t see an issue with Ella’s sunshiney personality, you’re living your best life, and they’d like to think that maybe some of her social butterfly tendencies will rub off on you.

Who takes the lead in social situations?: Ella. You know it’s got to be Ella. She’s a natural social butterfly, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to her like a moth to a flame for it. She may not be the smoothest talker, and often can say some oddball things, but she almost never appears to be fettered by it. It’s a high contrast to you, who will kick her own ass behind a dumpster in an alley if she stumbles a word in a sentence or shows hesitation. Being the practical saint that she is, Ella’s taken notice and has tried in her own little ways to help encourage you. For example, if she notices you’re struggling to express a thought to someone whom you find intimidating and she’s just close enough, you’ll feel her fingers quietly entwine with yours before giving a gentle squeeze of assurance. Ella may take the lead, but she makes sure you never feel alone or left behind.

Who gets jealous easier?: Neither one of you is a especially jealous person, but you do both have some worries that may constitute as forms of jealousy. Ella may get nervous about the relationship from time to time, but it has nothing to do with the possibility that you might become fond of somebody else and leave with them. It’s got more to do with the fact that you’re her first actually good relationship. Really, the closest she gets to jealousy is when she sees you getting along very well with someone. Someone who probably isn’t exactly as hesitant about the idea of dating you as she is. She just feels nervous and worried because she really does like you and really does mean to trust what the two of you have going on. And thankfully, you understand this. But that doesn’t stop you from worrying that she’ll still up and leave you for someone much cooler. You know how lovable Ella can be, so surely it’s only a matter of time before some much cooler nerd comes along in a sexy cosplay or something and sweeps her off her feet. But the reality of the matter is that you’re two nerdy goons trying to make it work, and you’d never back out on the other. Still . . . It doesn’t hurt to hold hands when you guys go places. Or plan couples’ cosplays. Or give her one of your Star Wars pins while she gives you one of her Star Trek keychains to essentially mark the other as taken in a silent way. Just little indicators that you’re definitely together, y’know?

Thank you for your patience!

#ella lopez #ella lopez x reader #ella lopez imagine #ella lopez imagines #lucifer imagines #lucifer imagine #regrettablewritings #character ship meme #character ship headcanons

[mystic-kitten-writer]

Can we get a tiny teaser for limerence 👉👈?

Just for you 😘😘

Notes: Unedited

~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

           “She’s pregnant!”

           “What a blessing, will this be her third child?”

           “Fourth, her eldest is serving in the navy.”

           “Ahh, yes-yes, slipped from my mind. How beautiful, if only I could convince my husband…”

           “Makes two of us. How about you, Imperial Consort Ying Yue? Have you thought about having children of your own?” The ladies giggled, sipping away on their sweet teas in the garden.

           The cherry blossom branches swayed under the gentle breeze, the pink flowers cascading with the current, fluttering like butterflies. The cool shade painted our skin, providing as an escape from the blaring sun, although the kids didn’t seem to mind the heat in the slightest.

           Their laughter was clear as day, ringing throughout the palace gardens, but I couldn’t help but tune in with Kiyi’s the most. The ladies’ banter lost to the birds humming and moving water – absorbed in the beautiful smile on Kiyi’s face as she chatted away with her friends.

           A red and golden embroidered picnic blanket laid over the grass, Kiyi was passing along the turtle duck food for the children to feed. Her cheeks were dusted in pink, telling all the children fascinating facts about the creatures from the Southern Water Tribe.

           “After school tomorrow, I’ll read the book to you. They have this animal called a ‘Polar Bear Dog’ – and it’s so cute and fluffy!” Kiyi gushed, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t snort hearing her excitement. The way her eyes twinkled with passion, a small part of my heart hurt – because the look reminded me so much of Zuko’s whenever he got excited.

           Zuko…I miss you-

           “Imperial Consort?” A voice droned; the sound close to my being, I found myself jumping. My head snapped to the women beside me, them staring at me with looks of concern. Shit – what were we talking about again?

           “My apologies, I was watching the children-” I started, and the lady to my side started to snicker. She rose a napkin to her face, delicately tapping the tissue to rid herself of any crumbs that littered her appearance. All the women looked put-together, their hair and makeup done to impress, their clothes extravagant, meant to display their status.

           “I guess that answers our question.”

           “What question?” I inquired, and the ladies began to laugh once again.

           “Whether or not Fire Lord Zuko and you are planning on having kids anytime soon.” She replied, shooting me a sheepish smile. My mouth dropped, a shy blush coating my cheeks as a meek oh escaped me. Of course, they were talking about children and family. Almost all the high-ranking nobles were married, most with children – or pregnant.

           I stuck out like a sore thumb in these ‘royal tea parties,’ unable to relate to the women or men due to my lack of domestic life. I’m a mere child dressed in adult clothes – playing dress-up. My hands fell over my lap after combing my hair behind my ear, carelessly pressing thumbs as a means to keep my composure. I could feel my skin starting to heat up once again.

           Another fever- Katara is going to kill me.

           “Well, if it is not out of line to ask – when do you and Fire Lord Zuko plan on officially tying the knot?” A curious voice peeked, and at the question alone, I found myself reaching for my teacup, stealing a sip of the much-needed chamomile tea.

           Marriage – with Zuko? I fought back the petty laugh. Marriage with Zuko seems more like a distant dream than a reality.

           “Hopefully, once Fire Lord Zuko completes a few of his personal projects. Love is patient after all, and I’ll wait an eternity for him.” I spoke, forcing the words to leave my lips as I swallowed the lukewarm liquid.

           It was comical, how quick they were to eat up my words, gushing about how romantic I was, that I was willing to wait for Zuko – words straight out of a romance novel. If only they knew that that was only scratching the surface of what I would do for Zuko, the things I would sacrifice.

           I could feel my shoulders slump over in a defeat, biting my lips anxiously.

           The women didn’t notice the waver in my voice, the blue smile on my face, or the tears that I desperately held back. They were more concerned about the newest designer, skincare product, and fragrance – topics I would’ve undoubtedly been interested in if I didn’t have a looming fog in my mind.

           Politics, it’s all politics.

           The kid’s squeals peeked in volume, catching my attention, the children throwing their napkins in the air, towards Kiyi. What in the world-

           “It’s okay! I’ll be right back!” Kiyi insisted before standing up quickly.

           Her black hair bobbed side to side, skipping towards me at full speed. Droplets of something dripping after every bounce, tainting the green coloured grass under her steps, seeping into the soil.

           “Button-” I cooed, letting my tea rest on my plate before outstretching my arms. My hands caressed her face, and the happiness in her expression had me sporting a smile – a genuine smile. Kiyi was a breath of fresh air. Youthfulness and innocence, a heart of pure gold.

           “What happened, button? You’re a mess.” I snickered under my breath, watching the sticky liquid trickle from the hem of her dress, her lap completed covered. She scratched her head, shooting me a spirited grin. She looks just like Zuko when she smiles like that-

           “An accident, I didn’t see the jug of juice, and I kind of hit it.” Kiyi giggled, and I couldn’t help but snort, running my hand through her loose locks. “You’re so silly, button. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” I assured, light-heartedly tapping her nose.

           Kiyi nodded her head before shifting her gaze to the women I was seated with. My eyes followed hers, flustered at how the women looked over us with broad smiles – hearts for eyes.

           “I bet on two kids.”

           “Really? I think one.”

           “Wouldn’t be surprised if they already have a name picked out.” The ladies bantered between themselves as if I wasn’t currently sitting with them.

           I could feel a tiny finger poke my cheek, looking back at Kiyi, a teasing smile on her face. And seeing her sport that knowing look, a look that reminded me of a harmonious mixture of Zuko’s and Toph’s ‘I’m up to no good’ had me freezing.

           Oh no-

           “Izumi – Zuzu told me that that’s the name they want,” Kiyi spoke up, catching on to the topic at hand far too quickly for my liking. The women all leaned over in disbelief, jaws hitting the table, struggling to process the very thing Kiyi blurted.

           My eyes widen, the silly banter of family life between Zuko and I exposed. When and why did Zuko tell Kiyi this information-

           “Button-”

           “And Zuzu said they have a baby room set up in their vacation house! I can’t wait until I become an aunt. He said it’s a very serious job and-” My hand fell over Kiyi’s lips, cutting her off midsentence as I shot the women an embarrassed smile.

           The redness of my face was no longer due to my impending fever – but out of the utter realization that Zuko seemingly unleashes all his damn soft and fluffy feelings to her. Kiyi really is Zuko’s weakness, isn’t she?

           “Let’s get that dress cleaned button,” I said through awkward giggles, hand still firmly placed over her face, Kiyi letting out squeals of delight through my fingers.

           “Yue and Zuzu, sitting on a-”

           “Throne because he’s Fire Lord and I’m his-”

           “Wifey.” Kiyi managed to yelp.

           The speed at which my body moved, not bothering to say my goodbyes to these royals, as I nudged Kiyi’s body forward with my own. There was no way in the spirit world I was going to look behind me, already imaging the sunny looks on those women’s faces hearing the fuss coming from Kiyi’s lips.

           “I swear, button, I’m going to revoke cookie dates from you!” I mumbled under my breath, feeling the way Kiyi’s body shook from joy. My hand slipped from her mouth, her face pink as she held her stomach, her laughter loud and proud. And despite the embarrassment and exasperation, I found myself laughing along with her.

           There was something about hearing a child’s guiltless laugh that was contagious, especially coming from Kiyi. The smile on my face was enormous, reaching my eyes. When was the last time I smiled this much? The last time I laughed freely, enjoying my time?

           “You’re so much trouble, button~.” I blew, hands falling over her shoulders, embracing her. My fingers squeezed her chubby cheeks from behind basking in the sun’s heat before we walked up the palace steps. The guards before us opened the doors, observing the way I coddled Kiyi to my body.

           There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that they didn’t already know the trouble Kiyi could cause in less than a minute – the reason why they all sported small grins watching us enter.

           A handful, just like her brother.

           We stepped inside the kingdom, walking side by side, glued to the hip, humming happily. Our footsteps pattered along the flooring, heading towards her room, but I saw the cheeky glances Kiyi tried to steal from the corner of her eyes, studying my figure.

           She thinks she’s so sly. I snickered at her childish behaviour, poking her cheek, “What are you staring at so much, button? Do I have some crumbs on my face?”

           “No~.” Kiyi giggled, tilting her head to the side.

           “Then tell me, button.” I pestered, enjoying her coyness. Her blush deepened, a flush I didn’t notice until now, before poking her one more time, “Tell me, what are you staring at so intently?”

           “You’re smiling again…you’re pretty when you smile.” Kiyi breathed.

#zuko #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla #avatar the last airbender zuko #atla zuko #ask me anything #anon answered #limerence teaser #limerence #zuko x oc #masterlist

[kpoptrassshhh]

Cherry Red

NCT two part fanfic

Genre: collegeAU!

Rating: (PG-13)

Pairing: Quietgirl!FemReader X Badboy!Yuta

Summary: Starting college in a different state is hard. Moving to a completely different country to start college, is way harder. Being the new foreign girl, you expected to get a couple funny glances or sneers your way from time to time. But the popular girl on campus just won’t give you a day without a snarky comment or an “accidental” HARD bump on the shoulder in the hallway. Finally having enough of it, you snap. And it doesn’t go unnoticed. Especially not by the biggest bad boy on campus, Nakamoto Yuta.

Warnings: Almost sexy times, leading into sexy times

“That’s it for today everyone. Don’t forget that your paper is due by twelve tonight,” your professor yells, gathering his things before making his way out of the classroom. 

Closing your binder and folders, you stuff them in your book bag before walking down the stairs and out into the open courtyard of your college campus. It’s a nice spring day and everything just seems to give off a good vibe. Taking your earbuds out of the pocket of your black skinny jeans, you plug them into your phone and decide to drown out the audio of the world by turning on some music. While walking down the sidewalk you look up only to roll your eyes so far into your head you’re actually surprised they didn’t get stuck. The reason for your eye roll? Two words. Park Yujin. The “popular girl” on campus who everyone loves. Well, almost everyone. You being pretty much the only exception. Ever since you got here, she’s been nothing but a bitch to you. The dirty looks she gives you in class, the rumors she's started about you, and who could forget all those times she “accidentally” bumped into you....as HARD as humanly possible. She practically lunges at you when she does it.

Lost in thought, you don’t realize how close she is to you until it’s too late, as you hit the ground from the force of her knocking into you. Looking up, you see her and her friends giggling at you. 

“Oh, Y/N! I’m so sorry! I didn't even see you there!” she fakes, covering her mouth with her hand to keep herself from laughing. 

Feeling something ignite within you, you stand.

“I bet you didn’t, bitch.” you say, wiping the dirt off your ass. 

“What the hell did you just call me you little slut?” she snaps back, clearly surprised that you said anything back. 

You’ve never been the type to fight or be aggressive towards another person, hell you’ve never raised your voice to a fly let alone a human. But something feels different. You have no clue where this confidence is coming from, but at the moment you really don't care. You’ve had enough. 

“You heard me,” you spit back, “you’re a no good bitch who likes to walk over people and make them feel like shit for no reason. But that ends today.” 

“Oh yea? And what the fuck are you gonna do about it, slut?” she asks, folding her arms over her chest.

“This,” you whisper, looking her in the eye while raising your right hand to throw a punch at her jaw. 

Hitting her, she throws her head back as her hands come up and try to protect her face, but it’s too late. As she hits the ground, you’re right on top of her, punching and hitting as hard as you can before she can do anything. In the middle of all this, you forget where you are and instead of campus police pulling you off her, you look up and meet the eyes of campus bad boy, Nakamoto Yuta. 

Now, Yuta is a very interesting man. He doesn’t talk much to people outside his group, NCT. Come to think of it, you don’t you’ve ever seen him talk to someone other than his group for the three years you’ve been here. You’ve always thought he was extremely attractive and wanted to talk to him, but being a shy and, for the most part, quiet girl, you always thought there was no way he’d talk to you, let alone even look at you. But here you are, being pulled off of a girl by the one and only bad boy himself. 

Coming back to your senses, you help Yuta stand you up on the concrete, as Yujin’s friends help her up. As she stands, she looks at you with tears running down her red and somewhat bloody face. Glancing to Yuta, you feel he still has a grip on your arm. 

“If I were you Yujin, I’d be running,” he says, grinning and trying not to laugh. 

Huffing, her and her friends walk briskly down the sidewalk until they’re out of view. You bend over to grab your book bag and phone that is still on the ground when you feel him let go of your arm. Throwing the bag over your shoulders, you can hear footsteps coming up quickly behind you. When you turn to look you can see it’s the rest of NCT and you immediately feel intimidated. 

“Yo, what the hell happened to Yujin?” Lee Taeyong asks, chuckling a bit. 

Yuta looks at me and then back to him stating,”I think Y/N got fed up with her bullshit and decided to whoop her ass.” 

Eyes growing wide, you realize that he knows who you are. Feeling a slight pain in your hand, you bring your knuckles up to your line of sight to see they’re bloody and bruised. 

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Mark Lee asks, seeing your hands as well. 

“Yea, I’ll be fine. Just need to go back to my dorm and patch them up,” you state, wincing slightly when you move your hand. 

“I’ll come with, you’re gonna need some help,” Yuta offers, taking the bag off your shoulders and throwing it around his.

Starting to reject his offer, you shake your head,“No, you don’t have to-”.

“I know I don’t, I want to. Trust me it’s hard to bandage both hands without a little help,” he chuckles, looking into your eyes. 

Nodding slowly, he tells the others he’ll catch up with them later and you both make your way to your dorm. Once there, you unlock the front door and step inside, Yuta right behind you.

“Uh, where do you want me to put this?” he asks, holding your bag. 

“Just set it on the floor beside the door,” you answer back, disappearing into the bathroom to grab the first aid kit and a rag. 

Walking back into the living and kitchen area, you find him sitting at the bar, staring out the window. You clear your throat, setting the kit down on the counter in front of him and take the seat next to him. You look down at your hands as he opens the kit and takes out the materials he needs to patch you up. 

“So, what made you beat the shit out of her in the first place?” he asks, taking your left hand in his and gently wiping the blood off. 

“I just can’t stand people like her. She thinks she’s all that and a bag of skittles and it pisses me off. She’s also the one who spread that nasty rumor about me last semester,” you say, thinking back to when you first heard it.

“Are you talking about the-” he starts, but is abruptly cut off by you nodding your head.

“Yea, the one that I slept with every guy that looked my way. That was a fun two months of walking on campus,” you sigh, watching his large hands wrap around your tiny ones.

“Ya know, I never believed that,” he states after a minute of silence. 

Looking up to him with a confused look, you meet his eyes.

“Y-you didn’t?” You ask, curiosity seemingly oozing out in the tone of the question. 

He shakes his head as he finishes wrapping your hand, putting away the materials before he speaks again. 

“No. I didn’t. You seemed like, well, you seemed too innocent for all of that,” he deadpans, making your eyebrows shoot up in alarm.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not that innocent,” you say, defending yourself which makes him chuckle. 

He looks at the floor with a grin on his face before looking back up to you. 

Nodding, he looks you up and down before saying, “yea, sure you aren’t.”

Taken aback by the look he gives you and his statement, you retort, “you don’t believe me?” 

“No, no I don’t,” he states, a small smirk on his face. 

“What will make you believe me?” you ask, a seemingly innocent question, you think. 

“I’ve got an idea, but you wouldn’t do it,” he says, standing and heading for the door.

Standing quickly, you rush to the door and wedge yourself between him and the door, just inches away from him. You look into his eyes as you feel your heart beat increase rapidly. 

“Try me,” you whisper, feeling his body heat from the close proximity.

Slowly he steps forward until your body is flush against his. You feel his hands run up your thighs, to your hips and finally landing on your waist, he gives you a squeeze before closing the distance between your lips. Melting into him, you wrap your arms around his neck, having to briefly stand on your tiptoes until he bends down and grabs your thighs, hoisting you into the air. You lock your legs around his waist as he pushes your body against the door once more, never allowing you to leave his kiss. His lips taste like peach vodka and strawberries and the thought almost makes you laugh until he ruts up into your core, igniting a fire within you. Without second thought, you moan into his mouth before he pulls away and begins to kiss and suck marks into the pale flesh of your neck. Moaning out again, you run your hands through his hair, grabbing it by the roots, and softly tugging in pleasure which elicits a guttural growl out of him that goes straight to your core.

Pulling away and leaning his forehead on yours, he halfway stares into your eyes while gasping for air.

His hand moves from your waist to cup your cheek where he draws tiny circles into the flesh, whispering, “are you sure you want to do this?” 

Now you’re no virgin, but your experience is very limited due to the three quickies you’ve had in the bathrooms at local bars in your hometown. You don’t really know what you’re doing because sex has never really mattered as much as it does right now. Fuck. 

Hearing his words bounce around in your head, you take a deep breath before speaking, “yes. But I don’t really know what I’m doing.” 

His smile grows wider at the confession, as does the member in his pants. 

“That’s okay,” he says lovingly, before looking into your eyes. You see that somehow your confession has rooted deep within him, because as you stare into his brown orbs, only hunger and fire stare back at you.

“I can teach you everything you’ll ever need to know.”

© Kpoptrassshhh, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

#yuta smut #nct smut #yuta fanfic #nct fanfic #yuta au #nct au

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Oceans Away (DonnyxFem!Reader)

Requested by @cass-danvers​

@owba-chan​ @war-obsessed​ @inglourious-imagines​ @tealaquinn​ @struggling-bee​

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Donny blinked. How could it be? Could it really be you? After so many years? Across all the oceans? Over all the mountains, beyond all the valleys, the battlefields? How could it be that he saw you there, in the face of death, in the hall of Emmanuelle Mimieux's cinema, on the night of Nation's Pride's premiere. How? Then he remembered... his faint smile fading as he realized you were telling the truth. All along. Hans Landa introduced you to the basterds and to the spy.

At that moment, you saw right through their plan... And you smiled. Donny looked into your gloomy, joyless eyes, where he once marveled at the radiance of light and hope. Once, not too long ago. And he understood why it was all gone and forgotten when Landa introduced you as, "La mia fidanzata," His fiancee. The world crumbled around Donny as his eyes glazed over... Landa gave Donny and Omar their tickets back, and asked if they'd be gentlemen, and escort his fiancee to her seat, while he caught up with his old friend, Bridget von Hammersmark. Donny made Omar go back to the seats alone... Donny had some things he needed to sort out. Number one...where had the light of your eyes gone? ************************** Winter, 1939 Donny was uptown, running errands for his mother. He got cold, and had enough time to get into a coffe shop. There, behind the counter was a familiar face, though the name escaped his mind. You both graduated from the same high school a year before. You appeared, as if from thin air, in the middle of your sophomore year. Every now and then, Donny heard people talking about you. Gossip, mostly, about the strange, uptight Hungarian girl. ...Most of it was negative. He never really cared too much for gossip to begin with. He figured everyone was just being mean to the new kid, as usual, though he couldn't help but notice how much of it painted you as a liar. Still, he wasn't very intrigued by it... Just the pretty face standing alone, day in, day out, seemingly unbothered. And there, a year later, was the same unbothered, smiling girl. A ray of sunshine, he'd always thought. And yet, people treated you like you were from a world beyond theirs. "Y/n?" He remembered your name at the last second, and he smiled as he said... How could he forget? It was such a pretty sound, he thought. You looked up from the register, a little stunned that Donny Donowitz, was standing there, talking to you, even though he never had before. "Y-yes?" "It's nice to see you!" You smiled at him, though you were a little confused, you didn't mind seeing a familiar face, and being greeted so kindly for once. "It's nice to see you too." And just like, Donny became a regular at that old counter, every Tuesday, Friday, and Sunday afternoon, at 4 o'clock sharp, like clockwork. Every single time, it was a medium cup of black coffee, two sugar cubes, no cream or milk. Before you knew it, it was April, a drizzly afternoon. He came in as usual, greeted you with the same smile, made the same small talk, and politely asked for the usual...almost shyly, in fact. But no, you thought, each and every time. Donny Donowitz just wasn't the shy type... Or so you thought, until he finished his drink, as usual, and cleared his throat, which was most unusual. "Y-Y/n..." "Yes?" "Do you....uh....you...What time do you...get off of work?" You were a little off guard, and took a moment, but answered, with the same kind smile and warm eyes, "Six o'clock." "W...would you want to uh." He panicked...which you no doubt noticed, but woudl never admit for his sake. "Wanna get some coffee?" He immediately widened his eyes and clencehd his jaw in embarassment. You giggled, but nodded, "Sure." You leaned over the counter, "Except, tea is more of my...well cup of tea." He laughed, a little nervously, but full heartedly. And just like that, "Sundays at 6" became another one of your traditions. It wasn't quite a 'date,' and it never really felt like it... Though you wished there was more to it... And then it was summer, 1940. Donny broke tradition. He didn't kid you about getting coffee, and you didn't feel like tea. It was over 100 degres out, after all. He asked if you wanted to go out the next Friday night. He took you out to a carnival, and you got some lemonade instead. Then, it was every Friday night... Until one day, Donny was consumed by curiosity. Why didn't anyone want to be around you back then? He always asked you about Hungary, and you always told him. He never got tired of listening, and you never got tired of him....

But that night, he just needed to know. He'd imagined the blue Danube, and heroe's square, and couldn't get over the way you described Budapest. "So...why'd you leave?" You were silent for a moment, then shook your head with a sigh, "There are things in the world you don't understand yet, love." You sipped your lemonade, distracting yourself from the thought you inevitably faced: The lands you knew as a child were war torn and blood stained...and there was nothing you could do about it. Donny didn't quite understand. He chuckled,"Cause I ain't in college like you, that it?" You rolled your eyes and giggled, "No, it's because you're oceans away."

You led him to your apartment, "Won't your parents be-" "I live alone." You sighed as you unlocked the door. It was an odd, extra moment before you flipped the lights on. Donny noticed something even more odd, a brief somber shade in your eyes, just before your turned back to him, with the same familiar smile. He'd heard the news. Hungary had allied with Germany. You'd already heard... You already knew. "What's wrong?" "Nothing." Nothing Donny could understand, you thought as you slumped on your couch. "You can trust me, you know that." He crouched in front of you, and looked up at you. "Just tell me...Tel me everything." You sighed,  "You read the paper, you heard the radio. You know what's going on in the rest of the world, with the war and everything." Donny nodded slowly, "Yeah..." "Well...that's why I'm here." He didn't quite follow. "My mother's Jewish...she sent me here, where it was safe." He looked at you, and bluntly murmured, "You're not telling me everything." You nodded, with the same conviction, "You're right." Donny asked again, though this time there was a twinge in his voice, signaling his hurt, "Why won't you trust me?" There were things that boys like Donny weren't ready to hear, things people like you knew to be true. Things the rest of the world didn't quite know... Nightmares that had not yet made their way to front covers or news flashes, but were on the front lines and in homes far across the oceans. Things you'd seen, but couldn't quite explain, even if you wanted to, So you did your best. "My family is what I guess you could call nobility, back in Hungary. To keep power, with Germany and all, my father arranged a marriage for me, and an Austrian man for when I was old enough. My mother sent me away. She knows that... She knew..." Your breath hitched in your throat with a teary knot. She knew. You knew. And now Donny knew... You'd be forced to marry a monster some day. On that day, the beaming bright joy in your eyes would be gone, all for nothing. All for diplomatic bullshit. All for an abomination called Hans Landa.

But there were things you still couldn't tell Donny. Not without proof. Who would believe you? Who'd believe that you'd seen the blood, the innocence? No one ever believed you before...

You'd seen things. You'd seen shadows following you. You were being watched and you knew it. The game was over. You'd lost... It wasn't safe for you. And if it wasn't safe for you, it especially wasn't for Donny. And you told him so. "It isn't safe here, Donny. Not with me, not here...Not anymore."

"What? But I-" You shook your head. "Whatever it is, we can...we can go to the cops, ok? We can go and-" It was much bigger than the Boston police department. "Stay out of this." "What?!" "The world is bigger than Boston, Donny. Scarier too." You looked at him, and spoke bluntly, "And you know nothing of it." "Wh...what's gonna happen to you?" He knew you, and he knew you weren't a damn quitter. "I need to go." "Where?" He wanted to know you were safe, no matter where you went, and that you knew that you had him to lean on. But you were past that. It was a matter of life and death...and if your suspicions were correct (and they were) Donny's life was in danger. "Anywhere. Anywhere but here. Anywhere, where no ne knows me, where I can't be found..." You put your book down... It really was over... "Sounds lonely." Donny smiled softly, as he looked up at you, love in his eyes, hinting silently that he would go anywhere with you. To the ends of the world and back, if you only said the word... But you didn't. You pretended not to notice. "Sometimes... Sometimes it might be... But life is lovely, Donny." You rested your hand over his, "You just don't know it yet... You haven't lived. I mean, really lived." He sat on the ground, looking up at you. He looked around the tiny apartment, and all the memories it held. His world was small compared to yours... Boston didn't hold a candle to Budapest. You'd seen it all, done it all. But you were wrong. He had lived. Donny had known what life was, what it was all about from the moment he saw you that winter afternoon. He was alive every second he spent with you. He wasn't in college like you, he didn't know the world like you did, but he understood.

He wouldn't follow... He didn't know where you'd go, and frankly, you didn't either. But he knew he loved you. You both did. And that was what hurt you both that night...that last night... That last time he saw your eyes, beaming with hope and starlight. ************************************************** "So this is where you've been all along, huh? Oceans away?" He smiled softly, and your heart melted as you sighed with a broken hearted smile, "You remembered." He looked down. It was cruel and unusual. It was ironic. He found you, oceans away. And as he held your hand, he felt an engagement ring around your finger. He'd lose you to Landa, and you'd lose Donny to an inevitable fate. One you had no knowledge of yet. And for once, Donny knew something you didn't. "Y/n, listen to me. It's isn't safe for you here."

You couldn't help but smirk a little. It was all too familiar. You'd learned  to run and hide for years...but that was all over. You never really were safe. Not without Donny. And he learned that you were right. He hadn't learned to live, he hadn't seen the world the way you did until he went to war. He understood why you ran so far all those years ago... And he understood you were tired of it. But it hurt to see the gloom in your eyes, like cold charcoal, where there once was bright hope.

He smirked a little, as he rested his hand against your cheek, "I know you don't wanna marry that asshole." You rolled your eyes, as if that wasn't the most obvious thing in the world, "And I know you're up to something." Donny nodded slowly, and said, "You need to get out of here, kiddo...." You shook your head, without a word, without even a sigh. "I ran away once without you, my love. I'm not making that mistake again." He looked away for a moment, down at the ground, knowing that familiar thought that kept him awake on sleepless nights, thinking of you. His one mistake was not running and following you to hell and back. He wanted to live, really live again, and he knew he could only do that by your side. So he nodded. He gazed at  you intently, knowing whatever choice he made, whatever words he said next, he'd have to stick to, and would change the world as he knew it. He had his mind made up. It was you and Donny against the world. "Wait outside. Outside the theater...Ya might wanna wait down the block, if I'm being honest." "But-" He shook his head again, "Do you trust me?" You pursed your lips, and looked up at him with a soft smirk. The tables had turned...but goddamn if there was anyone, anyone at all in that god forsaken world that you trusted, it was Sergeant Donny Donowitz. Your Donny... Your love... So you nodded.

Donny smiled and looked down at you as he wrapped his arms around you, and did something he'd wanted to do for years. He kissed you... And naturally...when he made his way to his seat, Omar queastioned him about the mindless smile and the red lipstck stains smeared over his lips.... Omar also couldn't smirk as he heard the explanation and the slight change of plans.

  You waited across the street, and lit a cigarette as you waited, without an inkling as to what the hell was happening in that theater. You had no idea what the ungodly roar was coming from. Your hand shook slightly with nerves as you flicked at your lighter, and took a smokey breath. You looked up at the sky for a moment, for the first time in a long time, with hope. And in that brief glimpse that you looked away from the theater, all of history changed. Your life changed. Everything changed. Two figured emerged, like phoenixes, born into a free world at last, ready to take flight. Donny ran to you, taking you in his arms, spinning you around, kissing you... It was everything you'd both wanted. Donny looked to you, with that familiar smile, and felt alive the instant he saw the fire reflecting in your eyes... The same old light was back. Embers emerging from the dead coals, an ardent, aureate glow that kept him going all those years, and would keep him going for the rest of his life. As of that moment, as you and Donny gazed into each other’s eyes, you had your life, your love, and your world back...

And as you threw your ring into the hellfire, you took Donny's hand. Your heart was yours to give.

#Donny Donowitz #donny donowitz imagine #donny donowitz x reader #Inglourious Basterds #inglourious basterds imagine #Quentin Tarantino

[princeanxious]

💕: “Years I’ve spent dormant in the earth, thinking of my horrible revenge upon humanity, yet when you set me free I suddenly had seconds thoughts” for Anxciet? :>

,,,,i tried! (This isn’t beta’d so all mistakes are mine) enjoy theres two disaster gays!

Virgil had bought the golden gothic locket from a seemingly innocent and unassuming booth at the market, the booth owner had been sweet and kind and had even given him a discount on it because it matched his aesthetic! And well, as a struggling college student, how was he to say no?

He’d worn it days on end, feeling safe with the weight of it resting against his collarbone, careful to maintain the little locket’s nice condition with the occasional TLC. Never had he expected anything more from the small little locket, even when his nightmares noticeably died down after receiving it. Leave it to an entitled thief at the park later that month to prove him wrong.

It was pretty late in the day and Virgil was chilling on a bench, sketching a concept piece in his sketchbook. Occasionally he would pause to get a gauge on his visual, his non-dominant hand loosely clutching the locket as he fiddled with the intricate engravings. Honestly, it was no wonder that it would gain him some looks from time to time, being a bright but still gothic gold, it was the only stand out color that he wore amongst his dark blacks and purples.

“Excuse me, Sir?” A female voice from a distance called out, causing Virgil to glance up. A pretty woman was flirtingly sauntering up to him, obviously trying to catch his attention with a self-satisfied smirk when his eyes met hers and flicked away again. She seemed sure she’d caught his full attention now, completely oblivious to the fact that Virgil was completely and utterly gay, not to mention uninterested in the confrontation.

“I couldn’t help but notice, you’ve got a pretty cute necklace there. Where’d ya get it, honey?” She laid it on thick, batting her eyes and speaking in a heavily, almost too suspiciously sweet tone. Virgil blinked at her, once, twice.

“Um..? I don’t think you’ll get one exactly like mine but there’s a vender that-“ The girl held her hand up to silence him, before looking at her nails with a sorely fake, sorrowful look.

“Oh that just won’t do, Doll. I like yours! Any chance I could buy it off you?” Virgil blinked at her, and tried not to chuckle, completely confused. Who walks up to a stranger, offering to buy their own personal items off of them?

“Uhh, no? It’s uhm, it’s a gift from my grandma, and I’m not willing to part with it.” That was a lie, of course, but lately he’d been finding himself a little more comfortable with doing that lately if it meant it got him out of harmless situations like this. Plus, he really didn’t want to give it up! However, the stranger did not seem to want to accept that answer.

Before he knew what was happening, this woman was screaming at him, calling him entitled and a rotten, selfish teenager, and plenty of other nasty things under the sun. Immediately, the sudden onslaught had caused Virgil to curl up, staring up wide eyed and terrified of the older woman now standing above him and shouting at him. Then his body’s shaking began, and Virgil knew he was in for it. He’d frozen up like a petrified fawn in front of an over glorified wolf, and the overwhelming negative emotions being projected at him was tearing him apart inside.

Getting fed up with the boy’s lack of response, she reached for the necklace, growling out “If I can’t have it, then no body can!” Before giving a sharp tug. The old metal snapped, causing Virgil to jerk back as he watched this stranger slam the fragile locket to the concrete pavement. It made a sickening crack as it broke in two. However, before the woman could truly be satisfied with her wrath and before Virgil could properly mourn his loss, black smoke billowed out and around the two. Virgil, still on the verge of an emotional breakdown, could only think about how that much smoke couldn’t have naturally fit in that tiny locket.

The woman stumbled back, temporarily broken out of her petulance to escape the pitch black smoke with a shout. In a matter of seconds, the smoke asmassed together and tightly formed together, before dissipating. In its wake, a tall, lean man was left in its place. He wore dark clothing, a suit of dark grey and a golden accented vest, a dark bowler hat tilted stylishly upon his dark hair. His back was facing Virgil, but the woman, from what Virgil could see, looked terrified.

“Well, Hello there. I didn’t think I’d be summoned by something so pathetic.. one hundred years in that stupid prison and this is the welcoming I get?” The woman was still in utter disbelief, glancing over to Virgil with confused anger resurfacing.

“Is this some kind of act? You think I’m an idiot, huh, Brat? Just because you’re friend was able to pull this,-” She gestured towards the particularly disinterested man in front of her, “this stupid prank or whatever off! I’ll sue you for harassment!”

At this point, the woman looked haughty and ready to do something even more rash. However, before she could move, the man flicked his wrist, and the woman’s hand slapped over her mouth.

“My, you could drone on and on, couldn’t you? Please, a mortal like you doesn’t scare me. Now please, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave.” The woman’s eyes briefly flashed yellow, and she turned around and walked off without a huff. With a sigh, the man turned around to the bench to sit, only to pause as he finally took notice of the shaking man curled up on the bench. Now Virgil could see why the woman had been surprised, realistic green scales were attractively scattered up one side of the man's face, his eyes mismatched of green and yellow. For a being that was apparently trapped within that locket for at least, what, a hundred years? He still looked as sharp as a young adult, and attractive too.

“Oh, hello.” The man’s voice had softened considerably, apparently surprised into sympathy at seeing a young man so visibly shaken. Before Virgil could muster up a response or even figure out a proper reaction to the situation, the man dipped elegantly to one knee, bowing in front of Virgil with the flourish of his hat.

“Excuse me, my dear. I didn’t mean to startle you! I am called Dorian, however, you can call me anytime.~” The mysterious man called Dorian held out a hand to Virgil, smiling warmly when the young man’s shaking hand rested itself in the others gloved hand. “You’ve been caring for me in all this recent time, I recognize that panicked heartbeat, My Dear. How lucky am I?” Dorian’s adoring gaze never left Virgil’s pretty flushed face as the other brought the still trembling hand to his lips. All Virgil’s frazzled mind could think to do was make him giggle at the absurdity of the situation, and close his eyes and cover his face because his mind wasn’t even sure he was breathing.

Surrounded by his thoughts, he did not hear the other get up, nor did he feel when the other sat beside him. However, he did feel the arm that pulled him closer to the other man, gentle and loose, yet still comforting. For a few long moments the pair sat in silence.

As Virgil calmed down, his mind slowly came to terms that his company was not really human, but found that his tired mind did not really care. Lowering his hands, Virge glanced at the taller being next to him who was gazing up at the darkening shades of the sky. Leaning against Dorian’s arm a bit more, he joined the other in his gazing at the sunset splashed sky. Another long moment of silence stretched past them, before Dorian finally found his voice to speak.

“...Years I’ve spent dormant in the earth, thinking of my horrible revenge upon humanity, and yet when you set me free I suddenly had second thoughts..” Dorian hummed, meeting Virgil’s gaze solidly for a moment before gazing out across the park. “It’s been long since I’ve stretched these legs, used these eyes, held another so close.. I’ve missed it dearly. I hope you don’t mind, uh-“ Dorian paused, realizing what he’d forgotten. Here he was, cuddling with a mortal that he didn’t even know the true name of!

Virgil seemed to catch on, chuckling softly, “It’s Virgil, Dorian. My name? And.. don’t worry about it. I totally get being touch starved, dude.” Dorian smiled sadly, disappointed that this human was feeling the consequences of lack of contact too. He let the others name roll off his forked tongue, an inhuman purr escaping him at such a pretty name. Dorian didn’t miss the shiver that passed through Virgil in reaction to the deep voice, but kept his thoughts to himself about it for now.

“I think.. A proper night of introduction is in order. A walk around the park, or this fascinating city, if you will?” Dorian smiled, standing up and reaching out a gloved hand for Virgil to take. Accepting this weird fate, Virgil just shook his head with a smile and took the others hand, allowing Dorian, ever the gentleman, to link arms with him.

“What about your um, scales?” Virgil asked, hoping that they wouldn’t get anymore stares than a man in a suit and a man in full goth attire could attract. In a swift movement of a hand over Dorian’s face, the scales vanished. Replacing them was breathtaking vitiligo, the yellow eye becoming blue to accompany Dorian’s green one. Virgil laughed softly, face flushing at the beautiful man before him but still keeping his shy smile present.

“Now that that is settled, how about that walk, hmm?” Dorian grinned, and with Virgil’s agreeing nod, the two disaster gays from different times were off to traverse the city.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #sympathetic deceit #deceit sanders #anxceit #luka writes #writing request

[warlock-enthusiast]

Waking up slow

The Wayhaven Chronicles

Adam du Mortain x female Detective (in the future)

Detective Kat Kingston faces a murder, Unit Bravo and her mother. (Not always sticking with the canon)

Chapter 3: First they have a moment, then they have a fight.

AO3 link

Chapter 1 / 2 

----

His scent lingered on her skin.

Almost undetectable, Kat noticed a hint of citrus and something else, a bit like frost on a clear day.

Alluring.

Kat bit her lip, rubbed her hands together and evaded Adam’s glance. Always so intense, always so unreadable. A blush spread on her face, thankfully less noticeable due to cover of darkness. Being alone with him, tied her stomach in knots nonetheless. With her wobbly legs, Kat longed for a nice, extended night of rest, and to forget about her life for a while.

She pulled her own jacket a bit tighter around her.

No one had ever given her a coat or any item of clothing, not even a scarf. Considering her stature, it never occurred to her someone might do.

Kat inhaled some of the cold air. It helped her calm down and lifted the fog on her thoughts. “Thank you.”

“Hm?” He blinked, seemingly suddenly aware that they still faced each other.

“For your coat. It is pretty cold.”

“Yes.”

Kat didn’t doubt her own intelligence, but she noticed a certain lack of decency and cleverness while standing close to Adam. Not to mention stumbling over her own words. Neither Felix nor Nate awoke such insecurities. Even Mason offered the comfort of silence and an uncaring attitude, with Adam things turned complicated.

He turned away, but Kat was sure that she’d noticed a bit of red sitting on Adam’s cheeks. Maybe a trick of the light, maybe wishful thinking.

She tucked her hair beneath her ear and fumbled with her bag.

“Do you want the radio back? For Government reasons?”

Adam shook his head. “No, keep it.”

Kat put it back and nodded. “Well, time to head home then.”

The rest of Unit Bravo had already left a bit ago, burdening Adam with the deed of getting her home safely. As usual, they kept things from her. It’d been more obvious tonight, but every question went unanswered. Why the sudden and frantic behaviour? Why did they look so surprised after walking around for two hours? Something had been in the air, lurking in the shadows and they didn’t dare to involve her.

“I’ll take you.”

“You don’t need …” “Yes, I need to.”

“Do I have a choice.” Adam shook his head, but smiled faintly. “Right now? No.”

They got to her car, which she’d parked a few streets away. Adam appeared tense, every muscle strained, always ready to jump at an unseen enemy. His eyes darted around, as if he waited for an attack. Kat decided to not bother herself with any more questions tonight.

He raised his brows, forming creases on his forehead. “You need a better ride.” “Well, Wayhaven’s budget is limited and I still have student loans to pay back and monthly rent.”

Adam tilted his head. “Of course. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t.”

He did. Not everyone lived on some huge government payment and drove through town in a SUV.

Adam crammed himself behind the wheel, not caring about a discussion about who’d drive. Kat was too tired to argue and just went with it. Adam’s head met the roof and he’d to bent his back in an uncomfortable position. He managed to start the car though. Huge success on his part.

Thankfully he didn’t mention her small plush-toy, dangling from the driving mirror. A dragon that she’d won on some Renaissance faire a few years ago, while rescuing a princess from a tower.

The drive seemed silent. Kat’s hand hovered in front of her radio for a bit, but she assumed that Adam wasn’t too keen on music, Especially with her taste preferring female-lead bands and solo artists. Instead she looked out of her side window, watching her peaceful hometown passing by. Kat felt dreadful. Such a serene scene, so many happy, innocent people all depending on her.

No pressure.

Kat rested her head against the window, wallowing in self-pity and ignored sitting so close to Adam. His scent still surrounded her and would be left in here and she wondered how she’d also deal with that. Maybe she needed to buy a magic tree in the morning.

An exemplar of the newspaper, which had led to this night of patrolling, waited on the backseat. Kat had read it a few times, experiencing a mixture of frustration and anger and hurt. Somehow Bobby managed to find every soft spot of her professional life and exploited them. Kat didn’t know better back in college and denied any signs of warnings, but he’d used the same tactics back then.

Manipulations, putting her down, making her feel small, useless. Years later, she still couldn’t escape her doubts.

Kat pointed at the apartment complex, rather different from all those small houses on the outskirts. “This is mine.”

Both got out of her car and his clothing appeared a bit ruffled.

Kat looked at her feet. “Goodnight, Agent du Mortain.” “Goodnight, Detective Kingston.” His eyes lingered on her mouth for a few moments and Kat turned around to open her door.

Adam still looked at her, as she entered her flat.

Oh.

Kat slumped down on her chair. She’d always thought of adopting a cat or two. It’d be nice to come home to someone, a warm, fuzzy presence at her side. Maybe later this year, after everything here was finished. A quick, hot shower and a huge towel improved her mood and Kat managed to read a few pages of her novel, before finding her eyes too tired and her mind wandering to Adam again.

Checking her phone, she saw two missed calls from Tina and one message from Bobby.

She ignored the latter and wrote her friend.

Long night. Going to bed. See you in the morning <3

----

“UGH.” Kat stormed down the stairs.

Verda gently closed a file that he’d been reading. “Bad day?” “Bad teammate…” Kat took a seat right next to him, remembering Kate’s tears and Tina’s reaction to seeing Garret’s mother again. “Bad month.”

“You’re welcome here, Kat.” He patted at the empty chair beside him.

Solomon Verda appeared rather polished and neat and far too elegant for a cellar lab like this. He’d be more at home in some stylish FBI headquarters or a tv-show. Verda had been a role-model for her wardrobe since becoming a Detective and his warm smile soothed her hurt feelings.

She’d also spend some nice family dinners with him, his husband and their two adorable children, so their bond went deeper than just a work friendship.

“So?”

“I’m starting to believe that working for the Government somehow steals your humanity.”

“Don’t be too hard on them.” Verda touched her hand. “Or your mother. We can’t imagine what they have to deal with on a daily basis.”

“You’re right.” Sighing, Kat let her head sink against Verda’s desk. “But … just … ugh.”

“Glad we can talk without real words.” “Ugh is a real word.” “You sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“The little ones use it a lot and they’re not even in school yet.”

“See.” Kat smirked and sat up straighter.

Adam du Mortain grated on her nerves and evoked raw emotions beneath her ribs. With his lack of empathy and feelings, how did he manage to go through the day? Kat was sure that they’d been moments between them. Minutes of him acting like a human, of him being shy, awkward. Just last night, he’d offered her his coat and drove her home and made sure that she got back in one piece.

Why did he have to stumble into her life? There was enough on her plate already and too many burdens. With all of Kat’s conflicting emotions, old friend depression knocked on her door. She already felt a numbness waiting behind her eyes, ready to suck all the joy out of her life again.

Sensing that something was off, her friend tapped a finger against his chin. “Hm, do you remember our budget cuts last year? Getting rid of the really nice coffee station and our lab security cams?” “Yes, I do.” She furrowed her brow. “Why?”

“Because without a security cam.” He spun around, quickly rummaged through some drawers and emerged with a flask. “We can do that.”

“Oh, Solomon, we’re still on a job.”

“It’ll be alright. Husband got it for my birthday. It’s filled with a tasty non alcoholic cider and won’t dull our senses, but sometimes you just have to take a sip, you know.. for the taste.”

“For the flavour!” Laughing, Kat put an arm around him and they shared a non -alcoholic drink in private. The cider tasted sweet and sour and absolutely perfect.

“Your husband has good taste.” “I know.” Verda’s soft expression spoke of love and loyalty and Kat couldn’t help but feel a tiny sting of envy. Not that she granted such an abhorrent too much room in her thoughts, because there was also genuine happiness for him in her mind.

“Detective Kingston?” Nate appeared through the doors with Adam trailing behind him, cutting a sweet moment short. The later held his arms in front of his chest and wore a stony mask. His green eyes focussed on where Kat’s and Verda’s shoulders touched and his expression turned even sourer.

“We’ve come to apologize for our behaviour. We’ve acted out of line and we understand your frustration with our behaviour.”

Kat doubted that Adam had agreed to this plan or felt remorse, but she stood up and walked towards them. “I don’t think that this is necessary.” Adam nodded. “I agree with Detective Kingston.”

Kat narrowed her eyes and meet his gaze. “Well, we agree then.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Hm!”

Nate’s smile didn’t waver. “Great. So … we can talk about some lab results then?”

Verda broke the awkwardness. “We can.”

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #wayhaven chronicles #adam du mortain #kat kingston #headcanons