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travellingarmy · 4 years

Text

║Venti║ Stars (R)

Requested from Wattpad.

Female reader as requested.

Warning: •Those who does not know what R-rated means, it simply means that it is restricted to children under 17 (according to google).

•This will most likely be crap because I still don't know how to write NSFW oneshots.

Word count: 2.1k

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"Just - hic - one more, Master Diluc!" Filled with the nightlife atmosphere in Angel's Share, Venti decided to join as well for the sake of sharing the same joy every Mondstadtian holds.

"You do know that these aren't free.." Diluc grumbles, a look of irritation visible on his face. "And don't you think you've had enough? You've had 33 glasses now."

"Ah, I can never get enough of Master Diluc's amazing brew!" the small bard exclaims. Diluc's face remained unchanged by the complement and went to make another glass for him. "You better pay for these."

"Haha, oh, Master Diluc, aren't you the jokester." Venti giggles. "I'm not joking," Diluc plainly said. "Haha, oh well.. Anyway.." Sounds of chatter drown out the taller male's warning that night by a loud bard who was starting to become tipsier with each drink.

After a couple more drinks- actually, it totalled to 50- Venti was now showing signs of passing out with his head on the counter, aside from occasional giggles and hiccups. Diluc grumbles in complete disbelief. Now that the bard was drunk, there was no way he would listen to his words.

An irritated sigh left the tavern owner's lips, seeing as he could do nothing about it. "I'll make sure you pay for it tomorrow so just go home," Diluc said to the bard who luckily listened, walking drunkenly out the tavern. "Thanks, Master Diluc!"

The cold air of the night brushed past the skin of the male, giggling as it tickles him. Oh how much he loves the wind so much.

Tonight, Venti did not go home- if he even has one- and instead, walk straight out of the city's gate; heading towards Starsnatch Cliff where he knew someone was sitting there all in her lonesomeness.

"(Y/N)!" the bard cheery voice made its way to your ears, making you turn to look at him. He waves and drunkenly giggles. "Venti, what are you doing here?"

"Hehe, I thought that my goddess wouldn't be asleep at this time and was here~" he answers, sitting down beside you. One sniff of him and your face wrinkled as if you were smelling a garbage site. "Ew, you went to the tavern again!?"

"Ehe." He shrugs, eyes closing into crescents as he smiled. You shook your head and brought your knees close to your chest, hugging it. You did not want to further push about the boring topic as it was quite often he would try to get wine from Diluc so silence was the only thing you could do.

You look at the stars in awe, a small smile tugging the corner of your lips. "It's quite nice today-- even the weather," you stated randomly. Venti leans back, using his arms as support. He took a glance at your soft figure before averting it to the sky you were seeing. "Even if it was cold, I would control the wind to make it warm for you," he points out, a smile of his own visible on his face.

In the midst of another silence, Venti's drunken state had his eyes started to wander on you, eyes tracing your face down to every detail. Your eyes that were half-lidded, your nose that was ever so his favourite feature, your lips-- oh let us not get into detail as to how much he loves those lips. Soon, his eyes wandered down to your neck and the strands of hair resting on it to tease him.

It might just be him being drunk and deluded or the atmosphere, but something in him wanted to do more than just looking at you.

With that being said, his hands slowly encircled your waist and drew you closer to him so that he could rest his chin on your shoulders. To you, it was just him wanting to hold you; nothing too suspicious and you continued to dismiss him.

However, that innocent thought was no longer when you felt his hands rub your sides in a slow and lustful manner. "V, Venti..!" you stutter, eyes widening as you look at him from the corner of your eyes.

He hums, eyes closed. "What is it, (Y/N)?" his voice still holding the same cheeky persona as his smile just grew wider. "U, um..!!" Your words died out on your tongue, the sudden rise of heat too overwhelming for you.

His lips made their way to your earlobe. "What's wrong, (Y/N)? Are you unwell?" he asks, a smirk replacing his playful smile. You bit your bottom lip and closed your eyes, unsure of what to do as you felt something in your stomach. It was like a fluttering feeling when you see your crush, but quite different.

"Do you.. Want me to help you, (Y/N)?" he breathlessly asks and went to nibble the sensitive part of your ears. A whimper that escaped your throat failed you which just urge the male further. His lips then slowly made their way to your neck and he was suddenly washed with the intoxication of your smell.

Not waiting for a reaction, he starts off by licking your neck and soon, sucking it hard enough to leave a mark. Once again, another whimper left you. You felt embarrassed by the sounds you had made, but the growing heat in the atmosphere was too much for you to fight.

One of his hands made its way down your body, rubbing your thighs as the other massages one of your breasts. Your chests start to expand wider with each breath you take.

Venti's hands soon returned to your chest and began to unbutton your shirt ever so skillfully. Once it was fully undone to the last button, he moves in front of you, pushing you down the grass and hovering on top of you.

His eyes were filled with lust and craved for you and your body. Hungrily, he smashes his lips onto yours and had a full heated session. He licked the bottom of your lips and you obliged, opening your mouth to allow his tongue to adventure inside, winning dominance.

He went back and suck the other side of your neck, also leaving a mark there as his hands unclip your bra, kneading your breast between his fingers.

At that point, heat, too, filled your body and made your mind hazy, letting out a moan. Soon, his lips trailed downwards and took the other breast in his mouth. He continued to do so and switched to give the same attention to the other.

His hand went lower, pulling your skirt down to your thighs. Teasingly, he rubs his fingers on your clothed cunt and you moaned yet again. "Hehe, you are so naughty, (Y/N)~ Already this wet for me?" he says, continuing to run through the article.

Soon, he had enough of the teasing and pulled down your last piece of clothing, leaving you fully exposed to the cool air of the night while he was still fully clothed.

"Tell me, (Y/N), what do you want me to do~?" he asks, pressing his cold fingers on your cunt, making you whimper. When you didn't say anything, he leaned closer to your ears and whispered, "If you don't tell me.." He moves his fingers teasingly. "I could just leave it here~"

"N, no..!" You shot your eyes wide open, revealing your desperation and lust. "Hm~? Then tell me, what is it that you want me to do?" He smiles and his eyes were overshadowed with a dark playfulness.

"P, please.. I, I want your fingers.. In me.." you say, a bit embarrassed at the dirty words that left your tongue. Venti chuckles, but answered to your wish, plunging one finger inside which made you moan. Urged on by the sound, he entered a second one. "Look at you~ So greedy for my touch."

You weren't listening to his words as he starts pumping his fingers, slow at first to make you just whimper. "What do you want me to do now, (Y/N)?" he asks once again. "Is this too slow for you?"

"Please.. G, go faster..!" Again, listened to your wish and started to pump faster, adding two more fingers in the mix. He returns to attack your breast and bit your nipples and his free hand went to massage the other.

The stimulation was too much for you, being touched everywhere soon made a knot inside of you that was waiting to be snapped at any moment. "V, Venti..!" That was all he needed to hear for him to stop, moving away from you.

You look at him, confused and upset, but that was soon answered as he stood up and pulled both his pants and undergarments down. "(Y/N), why don't you be a good girl and repent?" he beckons you to go on your knees.

You listened, getting on your knees and bringing your face closer to his cock that was dripping with precum. "Well? Don't tell me you don't wish to repent." You gulped and slowly bring your lips to the tip of his dick, licking the precum off of it.

You felt him shudder from above which urged you on. You opened your mouth and brought half of it inside your mouth, earning a groan from the male.

You then started to suck on his cock and another moan erupted from his vocal cords, putting a gentle hand on your head. You only sucked halfway of it and pumped the rest, not wanting to choke.

When it has gotten to a point that was much to his pleasure, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed your head; pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. You moaned on his cock, feeling it touch the back of your mouth and made you gag.

"Don't stop now, (Y/N). After all, you want to be forgiven right?" He tugs on your hair and you continued. Venti became a moaning mess, guiding your head as he does so. And soon, you felt his cock twitch inside you. You suck him faster, wanting to help him in his release.

Followed by a long moan, he fills your mouth with his juice, keeping your head locked on his dick so that you don't waste a single drop.

Once you gulped all of them down, he pulls away. "Aren't you a good girl~?" he coos. "You deserve a reward so why don't you get on your hands and knees for me, hm?"

You listened, wanting to get your own release as well. He got behind you and you felt excitement wash through you and the knot that was still there.

He put his hands on your breasts, giving it a little squeeze. "Are you sure about this, (Y/N)?" he whispers in your ear. "You can always tell me to stop, okay?" You nod.

With that, he moved his wet cock inside you. You whimpered at the overwhelming foreign heat that entered you. Venti was patient with you and waited for you to adjust to the feeling.

"P, please move.." you say breathlessly after a while. Venti listened and started to enter and leave your hole, building up his stimulation once more.

Moans, pants, and lust filled that night and at each thrust, he went faster and faster as you grip onto the grass, feeling your legs numbing. "Harder, Venti..!" you cried out, the knot close to breaking.

His grip on your waist was for sure going to leave marks on your skin, but that didn't matter to your right now.

He pulls out completely but quickly slams it back inside you. Your head jerks up and moaned loudly. The sight of the was stars blurring as you were being pounded into and drool went down the corner of your mouth.

Venti's thrust became sloppier and sloppier by the second. He buried his face on your shoulders and bit it hard enough that it drew blood, but you were too focused on the pleasure that you hadn't noticed.

"V, Venti, I--" At that moment, the knot snapped and you came on his dick. Venti thrusts a couple more times before he, too, came inside you, groaning as his second wave was finally released.

He fell on top of you, both your legs too weak to carry the weight of your bodies. He didn't take himself out just yet and listen to the two of you pant.

"Let's go home, hm?" he suggests between heavy breathing. You nod and watch as he pulls out, letting out a whimper at the sudden emptiness inside you.

He dresses himself up first and later helped you since you were unable to do it and carried you home. "I love you, (Y/N)." He kisses the side of your head, watching you slowly fall asleep.

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2K notes · View notes

jaeminlore · 4 years

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Landslide | Mark Lee

summary: time makes you bolder. even children get older, and i’m getting older too.

words: 7.1k+

category: teacher!mark, single parent!reader, fem!presenting!reader, graham is the sweetest kid, mark is that teacher that lets kids pick earthworms during recess, friends to lovers, mark’s apartment is flooded so now he has to live in domestic bliss with his secret crush oh nooooo

warnings: talk of absent fathers

author note: it’s my birthday tomorrow so i wanted to give u all a present for supporting me for so long!! here’s to you <3 (cross-posted on /honklore)

Mark helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Mark advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Mark grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Mark.

Mark ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Lee forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Mark giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Mark to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Mark actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Mark did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Mark puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Mark checks his text messages.

There’s one from Taeyong: “I’ve already got Haechan on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Mark forgot that Haechan lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Mark’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Mark didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Mark has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Mark right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Mark doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Mark gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Mark is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Mark’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Mark gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Mark pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Mark! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Mark is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Lee! It’s rude to call him Mark!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Mark reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Mark.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Mark and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Mark studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Mark acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Mark clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Mark. I’ll text you.”

Mark spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Mark is his teacher.

Mark’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Mark is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Mark glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Mark.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Mark to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Lee?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Mark gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Mark.

“How have you been?”

Mark sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Mark pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Mark. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Mark bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Lee is coming over, Graham. Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Lee? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Mark decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Lee’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are heard before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, and you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Mark’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Mark is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Mark’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Mark teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Mark mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Mark gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Mark himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Mark has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Lee cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Mark around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Mark giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Mark blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Mark knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Mark thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Mark gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Mark quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Mark tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Lee! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Mark’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Mark gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Mark feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be. Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Mark reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Mark has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Lee?”

Mark grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Mark’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Mark feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Mark grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Mark, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Mark leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Mark thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Mark takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Mark asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Mark watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Mark, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Mark reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Mark wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Lee let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Mark trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Mark scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Mark places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Mark’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Mark says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Mark Lee would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Mark grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Mark up by jumping on his chest.

Mark sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Mark, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Mark rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Mark and Graham enter.

Mark likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Mark, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Mark rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Mark insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Mark giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Mark reminds you.

“But Mikey is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Mark’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Mark scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Mark is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Mark laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Mark blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Mark is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Mark,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Mark opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Haechan comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Mark, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still high despite its blunt sarcasm. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Haechan, Mark’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Lee’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Haechan looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Haechan to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Taeyong’s, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Mikey, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re rambling and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Johnny about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Mark tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Mark didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Haechan scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Mark’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Haechan grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Mark, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Haechan in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Haechan’s voice cracks

You shoot Haechan a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Johnny’s.” Mark says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Haechan says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Mark laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Mark is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in the shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Mark is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Haechan’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Mark didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Mark was alone in a dorm with Taeyong, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Mark even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Lee?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Mark jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Mark realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Mark holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Mark says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Mark’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Mark and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Mark’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Mark scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Mark smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, copper brown under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Mark’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Mark Lee!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Mark has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Mark’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Mark laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Mark.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Mark.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Haechan told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Mark pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Mark stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Mark. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Mark again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Mark in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say.

Mark confesses, “I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Mark is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Mark bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Mark’s voice is a low rumble. Copper eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Mark.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in onyx black disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

#Nct fluff #nct fanfiction #Nct angst #Nct scenarios #mark lee fluff #mark lee imagines #mark lee angst #mark lee fanfic #mark lee scenarios #mark lee x reader #nct x reader #destwrites

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strawberrypaul · 4 years

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like 5 years later; thank you for tagging me @beatlevmania !!! i totally forgot i was gonna do ittttt

S ~ storms / fleetwood mac (it’s so beautiful i cry each time)

T ~ the long and winding road / the beatles

R ~ rock a little / stevie nicks

A ~ apache/ the shadows

W ~ whenever i call you friend / kenny loggins ft. stevie nicks

B ~ back in the ussr / the beatles

E ~ eleanor rigby / the beatles

R ~ races are run / buckingham & nicks (sorry i’m obsessed)

R ~ reconsider baby / elvis presley

Y ~ your mother should know / the beatles (one of my favorite beatles song)

P ~ pledging my love / elvis presley (sorry i’m obsessed with him too)

A ~ are you lonesome tonight / elvis presley (i’m not even sorry i love him and this song and i cry everytime i hear it periodt)

U ~ unchained melody / the righteous brothers (classic yk)

L ~ long tall sally / the beatles & elvis presley’s version but also the original by little richard!!

okay! omg i love this! i tag @sonicwonder @chloe-on-cloud9 @kalypsichor @lilypadd23 @glampaul and anyone else that wants to do it 😇

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mysteryuntamedmind · 4 years

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getting all my old tags done, thank you @maybeicanbesaved again so much for the tag

Rules: Spell out your URL using song titles. Then, tag as many people as there are letters in your URL. - Maps - Madilyn Bailey - Your Song - Elton John - Someone to you - Banners - TALK ME DOWN - Troye Sivan - Enough for you - Saint Claire - Raindrops keep falling on my head - BJ Thomas - Youth - Daughter - Use Somebody - Kings of Leon - Nobody - Faith Marie - Trauma - NF - Are you lonesome tonight - Elvis Presley - My Love - Sia - Enola Gay - Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark - Don’t - Ed Sheeran - Monster - EXO - In The Woods Somewhere - Hozier - No Angels - Bastille fest. Ella - Devil like me - Akine I tag @perfectpokemonfan @skelene @xoxoalterlove @quietalien @maevelin and whoever else want to do it, I’m too tired to thing of other tags

#tag #me #music

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t-underneaththeradardancing · 5 years

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warning

was watching earlier - george of the jungle at least parts of - may b more inane than usual if thats possible - could b wurse like 3 stooges no iggy but maybe mott the hoople - they hadda song i used to sing the words wrong - violins violins - the only thing that makes any sense - it wuz violence tho if u lissen u can undastand the reason - if there wuz a topic we r so far off it but imma roll w it like a muddy water tumbling - u ever all night and party every day my brother loved kiss for a while i like detroit rock city tho dr the movie wuz kinda lame despite dan akroyd - we did the pome bout the kitty awready right and its nowhere near midnight patsy - the moon i see soon i hope

imma better - muchly - headfonz however on life support - not up to going out to replace - today at least - like a bad dub mix random what imma hear - interesting for a while then wtf - they insured i told them im hedfone death and they $ - cheep throw away onez dying also

a little more than fuck all done but not enough to crow about tho a fed a couple i did indeed

kitty a bit under weather also - tummy - on the mend - she an angel

wish i wuz playing - vita wuz available tonight and maybe liam - was tempted but new better -will face relentless reality and the music if im forced to - sometimes - kava tues maybe - channeled my inner cowboy to come w an arrangement of im so lonesome hank sr if u please - believe it or dont it aint coming out a blues dirge ( give it time t give it time - im laffing) - i even memorize the words i think but wat happen onstage another matter - now laffing harder - duz riting drivel count as something - an accomplish or a time suck waste i wonder but not too often

wanna heer a guilty pleasure ( besides kiss )

when imma sick - unable to do much but lay down and try sleep - i putz on action/adventure / explosions - bond will do fer instance - awready know the thin plot so no need to pay attention - volume down

ok that tuckered me plain out

love

laterz

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v4mpiretrance · 5 years

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i was tagged by the lovely @loevable to do this. thank u so much for thinking of me i love u 🥺🥰.

Rules: Spell out your url using song titles and tag as many people as there are letters in your url!

are you lonesome tonight - elvis presley

nightmare - halsey

girl almighty - one direction

everything is embarrassing - sky ferreria

the way it was - the killers

rage - rico nasty

angel baby - rosie & the originals

night rather than day - exid

crzy - kehlani

everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears

i’m tagging @irlpyro @moonperi @onlybird @yehetharry

#this was so hard kjgndsf #i love so much music #this is just SOME of what i listen to #my spotify is teenloser if u guys care hehe #and of course this is all optional u dont have to do it <3 #there were alot of ppl i wanted to tag bc i adore ur blogs and personalities but i was scared to 👉🏻👈🏻

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virus-vodka · 4 years

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This Spell You Got on Me, It's Like Magic

Ship: 5 Stars (Callow x Hattori)

Word Count: 2025

Warnings: Mildly NSFW near the end, but the smut is not the focus.

A/N: Establishing fic for my lad so he can have a boyf lul, also, title is taken from the song Magic by Mystery Skulls (also highkey their themesong)

[5554629]: sry 2 ask this so l8 but r u rich???

[Me]: Why does it matter?

[5554629]: i saw a article abt ur fam, ur rich???

[Me]: Oh, look at the time, it seems like I can’t make it to our date tonight

[Me]: Oh darn

[Me]: Such a cruel world

[Number blocked]

Callow stared down at his phone, one hand against his forehead. He was… upset. This had been the third date in a row that had searched up his name and found out about his money, and it annoyed Callow. At least if they were looking him up, don’t fucking tell him. He knew the signs of a gold digger and always ensured he never had a night with them, lest he put ideas in their heads.

That’s how he ended up in his usual gay bar; upset and frustrated that the past three nights had been busts, and he was just ready to drink himself under the table, pride and safety be damned.

With a wave of his hand, the bartender—a young woman with colourful wings folded against her back—brought him his usual of sprite and vodka, and he slid her a hefty tip. She had seemed flustered, but he was quick to grab his drink, turn, and lean back against the bar.

Normally, he prefered to wine and dine his company, get a feeling for them and see if they were even worth the time or effort, and as of late, if he could trust them. Seeing how his luck had run the last few nights, maybe picking someone up who didn’t have time to look him up was a better idea.

So, that’s where Callow was at, green eyes watching and waiting, sipping at his drink.

A few men caught his attention right off the bat; an older looking brown bear virus was sitting at a table by his lonesome, stirring his own drink idly with the tiny umbrella. A virus with pale white skin and neon pink veins was making his way to each table down by the stage, either one of the performers here or someone more desperate than Callow. A lanky werewolf virus with sharp teeth and even sharper eyes, ice blue that briefly met green, which lingered but continued on.

All three had their merits, but it wasn’t what he wanted tonight. What did he even want tonight?

Holding in a growl, upset and angry he didn’t even know what he was looking for, Callow’s eyes swept the room again. Another older looking man was dressed to the nines with a big gaudy boa around his neck, two younger looking men curled up on either side of him while a third straddled his lap. It wasn’t that type of club, but apparently this virus didn’t care.

Coming to terms that he’d be alone again for another night, Callow turned back to the bar, knocking the rest of his drink back, before ordering another.

After a third drink, Callow was finally able to start feeling a slight buzz, so with a gesture came another glass. Apparently, it also brought a stranger.

“I’ll have whatever he’s having.” Callow glanced beside him as the stranger sat down on the stool next to him, and Callow nearly stopped breathing.

Beside him was a virus who couldn’t be any older than himself, fuzzy ears poking up from stark white hair that was half tied up in a top knot, a sly smile on his face.

Brown eyes kept locked onto green, Callow unable to look away as he felt his face flush ever so slightly. This man was beautiful.

Thankfully, a glass of sprite and vodka was set down in front of the handsome virus, breaking eye contact for a blessed second so Callow could get his head in order. “Vodka,” the stranger commented, Callow watching as he took another sip, eyes trained on Callow once again.

“Er, yeah, I enjoy it as a mixer.” Callow internally cringed at his own words, having never felt this tongue tied before. What was wrong with him?

The stranger’s smile seemed to soften ever so slightly, his gaze less prodding and more admiring. “I’m Hattori, what’s your name?”

“Callow.”

“Callow,” Hattori repeated, like his name was a fine wine that needed to be rolled around and tested. “I like it, where are you from?”

“Astronomy District, but I’ll be in Dashland for a while.”

“I just moved here from the Supernatural District, and I’ll also be in Dashland for a while.” Oh, that was a very clear open invitation if Callow had ever seen one.

Finally feeling some semblance of normal, though his soul was still racing inexplicably, he leaned in with a smirk on his face. “Well, seems I’ve found a new friend,” Hattori smirked as he leaned in himself. “Mind if I come check out your place?”

Hattori let out a small chuckle, leaning in closer so their breath danced together. “I thought you’d never ask.”

.:.

Callow awoke in the quietness of the early morning, before the birds were up and singing, before his bedmate had even a singular thought of stirring.

He awoke to Hattori facing him, arms wrapped around his waist, face pressed against Callow’s chest. He was still beautiful, hair tousled and all, long since pulled out of the top knot. The five tails had surprised him, but for such a young kitsune virus to have so many tails already spoke greatly of his powers.

Callow didn’t care about his strength or power.

He awoke with an aching heart at the thought of leaving. He never wanted to leave this bed, this room, this apartment, this moment.

In previous one-night stands, Callow had no problem leaving a note and vanishing, sometimes having repeat partners, but otherwise never seeing the man again.

But this time… this time, Callow didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to miss Hattori waking up, miss seeing what his morning routine was, miss seeing him just… live.

Callow must have moved too much, too indecisive if he should leave or not, because Hattori suddenly let out a small groan, his grip tightening around Callow as he buried his face further into Callow’s chest.

“You’re warm,” he mumbled, Callow letting out a snort as his hand automatically came up to run his fingers through Hattori’s sex and sleep mused hair.

“And you’re beautiful.” Came the automatic response, Hattori let out a sleepy chuckle. A brown eye cracked open just enough to look up at Callow, before his head was tipping down.

Carefully, sharp canines nipped at his nipple, Callow’s tail slamming down on the bed loud enough to make Hattori laugh softly and pull back, pressing a gentle kiss to the bite. “I must admit, I’m surprised you wanted to spend the night.” Hattori didn’t meet his gaze, suddenly acting shy as he came back in and hid his face away.

“Why would I leave?”

Hattori was silent for a moment, slowly moving to place his chin on Callow’s sternum, looking up at him. “Ah, most people usually turn me down once they find out I’m a kitsune.” Hattori gave a shrug, eyes darting away. “I… I think they feared my powers.”

Callow felt his tail begin to tense, his body ready to follow suit, but he kept himself relaxed, afraid of giving Hattori the wrong impression. “I don’t fear you.” He mumbled softly, having never spoken more true words.

Fear of Hattori wasn’t even something he thought of, and as stupid as it was, he never even considered Hattori would want to harm him. After all his training, he should have been wary, should have looked further into a random kitsune virus who approached him at a bar unprompted. But something just… clicked in his mind, made him feel safe, like he could trust Hattori.

Callow watched as both white ears perked in his direction before those beautiful brown eyes were staring up at him. He felt nervous, his stomach rolling in anticipation.

Hattori suddenly moved to slide up to his pillow, Callow uncurling himself to better line up with the kitsune. “What else do you think about me?” He asked softly, Callow unable to help himself as he relaxed and leaned in.

“I like your laugh,” he murmured into Hattori’s neck, rewarding him with that deep and breathy sound, something that Callow wanted to hear for the rest of his life. “I like your claws for two reasons, not just aesthetics alone.” Hattori smirked, suddenly running his black claws gently along Callow’s chest, earning a small shiver that hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“What else?”

Callow took a moment to recover, but he continued on once he could have a functioning brain cell. “I like your jokes, and how bold you are.” He moved to sit up, using one hand as a support as Hattori moved to lie on his back. “I like how gentle you are, your kindness.” Callow leaned down then, stealing a kiss that Hattori returned.

He moved down, pressing another kiss to Hattori’s chest, teeth nipping at Hattori’s own nipple that had him letting out a soft moan. “Callow,” he cooed, the gator virus nodding as he moved to straddle Hattori’s waist.

“I like how you make me feel,” he managed to get out, gently gripping their cocks together. Hattori let out another moan, a hand coming to grip Callow’s hip as his claws dug into his flesh. “I… I think I’m in love…” Callow flushed in embarrassment at his confession, who just says something like that, and to a complete stranger! He caught feelings and now he was going to ruin—

Hattori surged up, crashing his lips against Callow’s, his own hand coming to help hold their cocks close. “Oh thank the stars, I think I love you too.” His voice was breathy and quiet, but Callow let out a loud whine as he kissed back just as ferociously as Hattori had.

Regretfully, Callow pulled away, breathing heavily as he gently pushed Hattori down. He batted the kitsune’s hands away, shifting and lining up his still wet hole with Hattori’s cock.

As he sunk down, they both let out a moan, but this time was different. Callow didn’t want a quick fuck, and neither did Hattori it seemed, content with just holding Callow’s hips. Gently, they rocked together, Callow leaning down to kiss Hattori, their tongues meeting lazily.

Callow was on cloud nine, his mind trying to figure out if this was truly love or just infatuation. But as Hattori kissed him, moving to press kisses to every available space with nothing but a gentleness he had never experienced before, it was wiped clear from his mind.

The thought pushed him over, moaning out Hattori’s name as he came on his stomach. Hattori followed shortly, crying out Callow’s name as his knot swelled and locked them together.

The kitsune gave a gentle pat to Callow’s side, both panting as Hattori helped Callow lay on his side, both holding each other close. “I’m getting you messy.” Callow mumbled into Hattori’s neck, the older one just letting out a soft chuckle.

“I won’t mind if you stay.”

Both fell quiet, Callow closing his eyes and breathing in Hattori’s scent as he thought.

Wasn’t this what he wanted? But why was he so scared? If anyone found Hattori… if they knew their relationship…

“It’s not safe to be with me.” Callow murmured, but he only felt Hattori tighten his grip to keep him close.

“Then I’ll make it safe. I want you, Callow.” He felt tears begin to pool in his eyes, nodding into Hattori’s neck as he buried his face closer, never wanting to leave this moment.

“I want you too,” he managed to get out, Hattori relaxing his grip as those clawed fingers came up to run through his hair. “I want you too.” He repeated, softer this time.

“Good,” Hattori rumbled, nuzzling the top of Callow’s head. “I don’t want to miss this, miss you.” Callow pressed a gentle kiss to Hattori’s neck, feeling him return the gesture to the top of his head.

“I don’t want to miss you either.”

#LVC #Larka's Virus Community #The Vodka Writes Fanfiction #Callow #5 Stars

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