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how-masterful · 3 years

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To Have Your Cake (And Eat It Too)

Dhawan!master x Reader

Summary: The Master has gotten himself tied up. On your birthday of all days. Stuck in a straightjacket and with no idea how long its going to last, you decide to treat your Time lord with a share of your sweet and sinful birthday desires

Notes: for the second year in a row, this is the official how masterful birthday fic™ for her absolutely beloved @plethora-of-imagines . happy birthday, my love! I hope through all the chaos of losing the first draft, flaky internet connections, and a crippling desire for this fic to work out, you hopefully enjoy your birthday gift! 🥳❤💫

this fic was partly inspired by this piece of artwork by @/thoscheii

The Master tugged angrily on his arms, for the fifth time that minute. He grit his teeth together, yanking his shoulders downwards.

It was a fruitless effort.

The straight jacket still refused to budge.

“I’ve tried everything, Master. You really are stuck in there until those time locks fall off.”

He tugged once more, before sighing and sinking back into his chair.

“Great. Absolutely magnificent.”

It was a stupid idea. You’d told him as such. The planet of the bachelors, solo men that thrived on their isolation from women. Females within the species simply didn't exist. The Master had seemingly decided the best idea in the universe, something he’d say about every new plan, would be to try and blend in in order to steal some exciting world destroying weapons (and obviously refuse to tell you about the details). It would be an absolute piece of cake, he’d decreed as soon as he’d planned it- sneak in, steal the plans, sneak out. It would only take fifteen minutes or so. That was 7 hours ago.

However, in his pride and… underestimation of the species’ intelligence, he’d made a single, glaring oversight.

He hadn't taken the bloody wedding ring off of his finger.

“Have you really tried everything?”

You turned from your position leant against the console, sending him an offended expression. The Tardis hummed and whirred in your defence.

“Yes! Every single idea you gave me!”

“Are you sure?”

You widened your eyes in an expression that hopefully conveyed to him it wouldn't be wise to ask again. The Tardis beeped rapidly, hoping to dissolve the tension. Still leaning against the console you folded your arms, looking down at your husband.

“Yes, Master. I promise. I really think you’re just gonna have to wait this one out.”

The Master let out a loud and rather obnoxious groan. He let his head fall back, scrunching up his face in a look of pure annoyance. But even that expression of disappointment, and most likely rage, couldn't be fully executed. The thick red collar that sat around his neck propped up his head like a neck brace.

To his credit, taking off his ring wasn't something he had to do often. Since the day he’d put it on for the first time it never seemingly came off. That was part of his overt sentimentality that you secretly adored. Plus, it hadn’t caused any problems for the pair of you. The ring, a golden band engraved with endless circular Gallifreyan, sat snugly on his finger and often shone, even in low light. It acted as a symbol, a sign to other creatures great and small that he was indeed a taken Time Lord. It matched your own, your wedding band sharing the same design that comfortably nested itself upon your own hand. Of course, yours had to share a finger with the engagement ring- a white point star, shrunken perfectly to sit and shimmer in a band forged from the oldest nugget of gold in the universe.

You looked down at the ring, smiling fondly at the glimmering star that sat on your finger. It shifted and refracted at even the smallest of movements, even in the low light of the Tardis. From there you looked up to see the Master still trying to flop back his head, grumbling and muttering something most likely threatening to himself. You tilted your head, watching him struggle, before carefully making your way over to sit yourself down in his lap. Taking his face in your hands you carefully brushed over his cheeks with your thumbs, the anger and rage that simmered in his expression slowly melting away as he stared up at you with a rare, rather defeated expression.

It wasn't often that the Master was the one in need of saving. At least in the typical, damsel in distress sort of way. It was no secret that the Master had a history of getting in over his head, especially when it came to the Doctor and their centuries long rivalry- from the Autons all the way to the Kasaavin, the Master would sometimes need that extra helping hand. But with you, he was always so proudly in command. The Master of the situation, one could say. With you he would stride in, proudly taking control over every situation: if you were in danger he’d burst in burning with unstoppable rage, guns blazing- more likely TCE blazing, and would happily destroy anything and anyone that was in the path between you and him. Only now it was him that required the whole rescuing thing.

Seeing him like this, bound in a jacket with timed locks that simply refused to budge, almost made him look humbled. But of course he wouldn't let something so small destroy his persistent (And slightly enjoyable) egomania.

“It suits you, y’know.”

The Master rolled his eyes.

“Is that your way of making me feel better?”

“I’m serious. I never thought I'd say it, but you suit a collar and straight jacket.”

The Master bit back a laugh, sending you an incredulous expression.

“Really? Is that so? Because I feel like a knock off Houdini. Even I don't deserve that.”

You pouted dramatically, sticking out your bottom lip. Your hand reached up to ruffle his already messy hair, earning an even angrier scowl.

“You’re enjoying yourself far too much. Just you wait until I get out of here.”

“Aw, is the big bad Master angry he's got his collar on and matches his wife?”

The Master gave a reluctant laugh, narrowing his eyes like a cat. You tickled under his chin with your fingers, enjoying watching him attempt to squirm away. You could tell he was trying so hard to seem offended, but the way he subtly titled his head to grant you more access to the strip of skin under his chin made you believe otherwise.

It was also undeniable that the thick red collar that sat around his neck matched your own. It seemed, to the Master, that his collaring of you was a pre marriage arrangement. Your own was a rich, purple leather that curved around your throat, lined with golden velvet that sat flush against your skin. Golden hardware, buckles and rings decorated the piece, making the thing look incredibly lavish and expensive- and judging by the Masters taste, it probably was.

“Don't patronise me, love.”

The Master was scowling again. It looked rather cute. You placed a quick peck to the top of his forehead, watching him scowl in return.

“I can't help it Master, you look like a kicked puppy. All grumpy and angry. You know Its your own fault you got into this mess.”

The Master opened his mouth, ready to argue to the ends of the earth as to how he wasn't responsible for the consequences of his own actions. This argument was neither new, nor something you wanted to get into again.

Suddenly, you had a thought. It was a naughty thought, rather nefarious.

Though not deadly, the thought was slightly dangerous. If only for what the Master might do when he finally got free. Yes, this was an ample opportunity for you to follow through, and use the new situation to your advantage. He’d be so proud, you thought, if it wasn't him in said situation.

You pushed your finger against the Master's lips, catching the Time Lord slightly off guard. Once again, his eyes narrowed.

“Move. Your. Finger.”

“I’m pretty sure this is the universal symbol of shut up and listen, Master.”

The Time Lord pressed his lips into a thin line, glaring absolute daggers in your direction. Slowly you pulled your finger away from his lips, moving your face so close your noses almost touched.

“Fine, I'm listening.”

“Of all the days, Master. You had to choose today. Lucky for you, the Tardis thinks there's not much time left on those time locks. Lucky for me, it gives me just enough time to have some fun with you.”

If the Master's eyes were narrow before, now they were creeping wide. You could see the calculations his brain was performing behind his eyes, all the thoughts and possibilities swirling around in his head like brain soup. Rarely was the Master ever in a situation where somebody intended to have fun with HIM. Usually it was the other way around. This was a new sensation, a feeling of which the Master in all his years of existence had yet to fully comprehend.

Was this… what nervousness felt like?

It wasn't long until he was about to find out.

In all his time, cataloguing his thoughts and trying to figure out what you could possibly mean, the Master failed to notice you slipping from his lap and heading off towards the kitchen. With a skip in your step, you quickly made your way towards the piece of delicious, freshly baked cake that sat under the crystal glass dome on the counter top- grabbing a fork on your journey back as you circled, returning to the door from which you came.

Quickly scarpering back to the console room, you could see the Master still thinking, his eyebrows furrowed as he tugged at the jacket once more. He really did look like a curious cat, sneering at the problem at hand while also being absolutely fascinated. You carefully made your way towards the Time Lord, letting out a small cough to break him from his focus. Suddenly, his head snapped up towards you, his mess of hair flying backwards as he looked from your smug expression to the plate in your hand, before turning back to your face with a knowing look.

The large triangle of birthday cake, decorated in thick frosting and rainbow sprinkles, sat upon the fine china plate.

“What are you up to now?”

“You decided to get yourself tied up on my birthday. You’re going to enjoy this slice of cake with me even if I have to feed you it by hand. Now open.”

The Master watched intently as you held the fork to his lips, sending you an unimpressed expression.

“There's nothing on it.” he deadpanned.

“I know that,” you sighed. “Hold it for me while I get myself comfortable.”

The Master rolled his eyes, before opening his lips and taking the fork between his teeth. He looked like those flamenco dancers that would brandish a rose in their mouth while dancing, only slightly less flamboyant. Though the Master definitely was no stranger to flamboyance, if his past regenerations and even more recent plans were anything to go off.

“What on earth are you planning?” he mumbled through gritted teeth, watching you precariously place the plate upon his thigh. His eyes watched with absolute wonder as he saw what you were doing.

Carefully, in front of the Time Lord, you began to tug at the hem of your underwear from beneath the already rather short dressing gown- the pile of clothes you’d rescued him in already sat in a pile in the corner of the room. You slowly shimmied your panties down your legs, his eyes never leaving your body as you purposely drew out your movements. You could tell the Master was fascinated, the way his chest had begun to rise and fall slightly faster than usual. Methodically you teased him, slipping the underwear from your legs and throwing them on to the pile. Your hands then slowly wandered to the Master's knees, the Time Lord taking in a deep breath as you fiddled with the zipper of his trousers, pulling it down to expose his underwear. You took hold of the plate on his thigh before it toppled, using your other hand to pull down the waistband of the Masters underwear, carefully freeing the Masters hardening cock. You could hear him let out a low, guttural groan behind the fork.

Without breaking his gaze you straddled over his thighs, pushing your body against his own as you sank yourself down to sit on his now firm cock. You gasped softly as you felt him inside you, the Masters left eye practically twitching as he bit down on the fork in his mouth. You rocked backwards and forwards a couple times, settling yourself down in his lap, before you brought the plate to sit between your chest and his own. Soon after, you finally reached to pull the fork from between his teeth. The Master was staring at you, wordlessly, lightly panting for breath as you smiled oh so innocently.

“There,” you teased. “Much comfier.”

The Master was working his way towards catching his breath.

“You know… if you were anybody else… I'd kill you for this.”

You laughed lightly, measuring out the size of the first bite with the prongs of the fork.

“Good. Because if anybody else did this to you, I'd kill them as well. You’re my husband after all.”

“You’re getting far too cheeky, love. I think you need reminding who's in charge here.”

You leant forwards in the Masters lap, purposely shifting your hips. You couldn't help but smile at the involuntary gasp he gave.

“What are you going to do, Master? Spank me? With what hands?”

The Master met your gaze, matching your expression. Your faces were mere inches away from each others, your eyes daring each other to make the next move.

“You’re in so much trouble after this.”

“You can't punish the birthday girl, Master. That's just plain old rude.”

The Master chuckled fondly.

“Forgive me for misplacing my manners, dearest. I must’ve left them with my hands.”

“Apology accepted.”

You nipped at the end of his nose with your teeth, before giggling cheekily and leaning in for a kiss. The Master, in all his superiority and domination, couldn't help but kiss back. He always failed to stay fully angry at you. Your noses brushed together as you stole a kiss from each other's mouths, the pair of you dissolving into quiet laughter once you parted.

“Let me have this moment, Master. Please.”

The Master pondered for a moment, tilting his head dramatically to the side and watching your hopeful expression blossom onto your face. He huffed out a sigh, looking up at you with another defeated expression. Only this one was full of genuine fondness.

“Fine.” he sighed finally. “Because it's your birthday.”

Your smile was absolutely beaming. You pulled the end chunk of cake onto the fork, holding it up to the Masters mouth. The frosting was almost dripping back onto the plate from the fluffy, bite sized piece. He parted his lips, waiting for you to place the cake into his mouth.

“Say please, Master.”

“Don't push it, Y/n.”

You simply shrugged in return, before placing the cake into the Master's mouth. As he chewed you gently began to circle your hips, lightly moving atop his cock, generating a small amount of friction. The Master gave a quiet moan, letting his eyes flutter shut as the cake melted on his tongue. He licked at his lips, catching the small trail of frosting and sprinkles that had remained on his lips.

“How is it?” you purred softly.

The Master smacked his lips together, before giving a lazy smile.

“I’m enjoying myself more than I anticipated.”

“Poor Master, did you think I was going to torture you?”

The Master chuckled as you offered him another piece of cake, parting his lips and watching you intently as you teasingly pulled the fork slowly from his mouth. You continued to twist and circle your hips, the Master's eyes watching you almost hypnotically. You could feel a hot flush begin to creep up your face, the apples of your cheeks blushing a sweet red as your shoulders began to relax. The Master smirked, watching you break off another chunk of the sprinkle covered cake. Only this time you placed it into your own mouth.

You could see why the Master reacted so positively. The flavours swirled and collided in your mouth, your taste buds exploding with sensory pleasure. Your hips swivelled and rocked, much like clockwork, as you rolled your head over your shoulders and gave a deep moan of pleasure.

“Shit, that's a good cake.” you admitted, fluttering open your eyes. The Master was licking his lips, hands lightly tugging on the straightjacket as you licked the frosting from your teeth.

“It's almost as nice as our first wedding cake.”

“Go on, take another bite.”

Weakly, you nodded, breaking off another chunk with the fork and placing it on your tongue. The ‘yes Master’ you gave was almost a whisper.

You did the same for your husband, feeding him another chunk of the cake while continuously building a rhythm of motion atop his cock. The Master was groaning, harder than before, a light sweat beginning to form on his brow. He couldn't help but notice how much closer you’d pressed yourself to his torso, the cake almost sliding from the plate that was now practically diagonal against your chest.

“Y’know, it's not the first time I've worn something like this.” the Master admitted between mouthfuls.

“Seriously?” your voice was almost lost behind a moan.

“White straightjacket, red collar, I think they- fuck- chose something from my personal history to cage me in.”

The Master was now beginning to thrust his hips up against yours, jostling your rhythm and causing you to give a shocked gasp of pleasure. The plate almost fell from your chest, barely being caught by your spare hand and the edge of the fork.

“Master, yes-”

You bit your bottom lip to suppress the guttural moan you wanted to give. The sweetness of the cake mixed with the burning deep in your belly was causing your senses to go into overdrive. The Master was methodical, thrusting up as best he could with the top of his body tied in place. His movements were sending chills shooting up your spine, knowing exactly how to make you gasp for breath and beg for more. He always knew exactly what you desired, his body and mind instinctively understanding every primal desire you had. Maybe you were just obvious. Or perhaps he was more sentimental than he let on.

Soon the once imposing slice of cake was nothing more than a single section. Crumbs and sprinkles poked from the corners of your mouth and onto your lips, the Master's teeth gnashing upwards in a bid to lick them away. Your speed and ferocity had increased to the point where you needed to stabilize yourself atop the Masters thrusting cock. Both of you had begun to sweat. Something needed to give.

“Master, I need, fuck-”

“I swear to god, let me taste you.”

The Master was panting like an animal.

“The plate-”

“Fuck the plate. I’ll buy you as many as you want. Come here, do as you’re told.”

You gave an inhumane snarl as the fork clattered to the floor, your fingers grasping hold of the last square of cake. Frosting oozed down your fingers as you relented your grip on the plate, the small black plate crashing down onto the hard wood and shattering into thousands of shards. The Master opened wide as you bucked your hips, your fingers pushing the cake firmly against his mouth. Sprinkles and crumbs smeared over the Masters lips as you abandoned all inhibition, your own mouth diving in to follow as your lips crashed together in an animalistic kiss. Teeth and tongues slashed and battled for control as the sweet concoction oozed down your throats, the taste of the frosting melting into the taste of each others mouths.

Crumbs and sticky decoration stained the clean white straightjacket as your fingers clasped hold of the Masters shoulders, your forehead pushing against his as he snarled into the kiss. Your hips thrusted furiously against his own, the pair of you rising and falling against the back of the chair as you begged for friction and every sensation you were willing to share. Your fingers fisted into the back of the Master's hair, the other hand stroking down his back and running over the intricate set of time locks that connected the jacket together in an intricate lattice of latches. You tugged on them as you went, growing deeper into the kiss as you bounced yourself up and down in the Masters lap.

You could feel yourself getting close to the precipice of satisfaction, the Master's teeth nipping at your bottom lip as his tongue licked over the mess. Your noses pushed together as you hissed in delight, your body clamouring for release as you whined pathetically in his ear.

“Master, so close” you begged, tugging on his earlobe with your teeth.

The Master snapped his teeth together, pushing his forehead against his own.

“Don't you dare cum” he barked, groaning as you licked down the side of his face.

“Please, please I can't-”

“Listen to your Master” he growled in your ear. As if that would do anything but make it worse.

The Master continued to thrust and groan, his face flush almost as red as his collar as he edged you closer and closer to release. You struggled to even control your mouth, groans and cries of pleasure escaping your throat as you completely fell apart in the Masters lap. Everything was building up inside of you, your body absolutely ready to feel the warm wave of release course through your very being. All you were waiting on was the Masters word.

And then it finally arrived.

“Cum”

You felt your whole body ricochet from the sudden release of pressure. Your scream was painfully desperate as you felt yourself fold into nothingness in the Masters lap. You gave in completely, the warmth spreading through your entire body as you climaxed hard and fast upon the Masters still hard cock. Tears were mixing with the streaming sweat as you slumped forward against the Master's chest, the Time Lord chuckling as your exhausted eyes fluttered shut on impact. You were about to sleepily flirt, much like usual, sweetening the already malleable Master with your flattering words and praises, when a loud bang sent your eyes flying wide open.

One by one, the time locks that ran up the Masters spine unclasped and plummeted down to the floor, collecting in a heap as they slid through the back of the chair. You picked your head up to look at the Master, sweat dripping from his brow and sprinkles caught in his stubble, watching as the Time Lords face slowly began to spread into a dangerous grin. You felt a chill go down your spine as he slowly began to unfold his arms, forcing you to sit up in his lap, supporting yourself by pushing down on his thighs.

“Well then”

The Master purred, pulling his arms free from their clasps. His fingers wriggled within the triangle shaped tip of the sleeve, his hands reaching up to slickly unclasp the thick red collar from around his neck. It fell to the floor, joining the locks, fork, and what was left of the plate. He looked down at you with a typical, Masterful, Cheshire cat grin.

“Would you look at that?”

Instinctively you gulped, looking up at the Master as he lifted your chin with his cloth covered fingers.

“Now I don't know about you, love, but I've noticed you’ve been getting a little bit too cheeky for my liking.”

At best, you sent him a weak smile. You knew what was about to happen.

“And I have hands now. Lucky, lucky you.”

“I'm guessing you’re going to punish me now, aren't you Master?”

The Master shushed you, tutting as he shook his head. He still clasped your chin in his hand.

“You said it yourself, dear. I can't punish the birthday girl. But I can encourage her to help me get the release I so lovingly provided for her. It's only fair, after all. If there happens to be a lesson or two learned in the process? Call that an added bonus.”

You chuckled weakly as the Master guided you to stand, supporting your still twitching hips as you sent him a wry smile.

“Y’know Master, there's a phrase we have on earth. You can't have your cake and eat it too.”

The Master tilted his head, his mouth making a small ‘o’ shape as he crooked an eyebrow. It soon melted away into a gentle smile, his fingers tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Oh, my love.” he grinned, a chuckle building in his throat as he pecked the top of your forehead.

“I just did.”

All of a sudden you felt yourself being lifted into the air, the impact of the Masters shoulder against your stomach knocking the wind out of your system. He barked out a proud laugh as he raised a hand to spank your already reddened ass, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh of your hip as you gave a surprised yelp.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” he cried, laughing as he carried you towards the bedroom, where god knows what painful pleasure awaited you.

“I hope the birthday girl has room for seconds!”

#doctor who #sacha dhawan #the master #bbc doctor who #dhawan!master #bbc #sacha!master #spymaster #doctor who season twelve #dhawan!master / reader #dhawan!master x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #master x you #the master x you #the master x reader #reader #reader insert

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nctzanne · 3 years

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Your Last Name

♡ doctor!mark x fem!Reader.♡ smut, fluff if you use glasses

WARNINGS!: use of alcohol and drugs, explicit content, not sex but mentions of it.

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: I just want you to give it a try and read it AAAH

𝑅𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡?: no, an idea i've had since i started stanning NCT

𝐴𝑛𝑛𝑒'𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩𝑡𝑠 & 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠: As i said above, this is an idea I've had for sOOOOOO many months, so I really wanted it to make it happen. It was on my drafts for a long time. Thank you so so much if you take the time to read this.

You noticed when your mind woke up suddenly, but without opening your eyes, slowly bringing you back to reality. You tasted your own mouth dry as a bone, with a metalic flavor on it, typical scenario when we talk about hangovers. The headache that invaded you so suddenly made you grab your forehead, almost if you brain was going to explode right there. The smell of fermentation on the room -or wherever you were- made you nauseous, so you stayed still to avoid vomiting everything you consumed the night before. A light breathing woke you up from your trance and inner speech, you could even feel the warmth of it on your shoulder. That's when you realize you were not alone, totally opposite of that, you were cornered by arms twice your size, avoiding you to move on the super duper comfortable position you were in. You still didn't want to open your eyes to notice who the lucky guy was, but you could smell the hints of tequila on his breath. When that hit your nose, you turned around abruptly by instinct, trying to avoid the smell. You opened my eyes a little, just to be able to locate yourself in space-time.

A room hotel, there's where you were. White walls reflected the light that came from outside of the giant windows, making you cover your eyes with the hand that wasn't under the grip of this unknown guy. Once your eyes get used to the light, you remembered that you were at Bora-Bora for vacations with your best friend. You can hear the eagles screaming way too loud for your irritable state, but just noticing where you were made you feel more calmed. "At least I'm here and they didn't kidnap me" You thought, finally grabbing the courage to turn around and see who exactly was the guy that had a night of passion with you.

"Sure, shit"

╚═══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ═══════╝

-Wait, repeat it to me, who did you meet? -You asked incredulously, looking at how your friend Rosé was overflowing with emotion and nervousness.

-Do you know this famous band?- She told you a name that you couldn't identify, you automatically shake your head-Anyways, while I was waiting for you on the beach I met with Jaehyun, the bass player, we talked a little and he invited us for a few drinks with his friends!- She talked so fast that you had a hard time processing all the information that was given to you.

-And that's it, a random guy talks to you and you say yes?. He could be a serial killer-

-Ah c'moooon, he's a superstar, it will be funn!!!-

So, a not so official date with guys from a band. Sure, excellent idea.

-Okay, are they handsome at least?- You asked with disinterest

-You can't imagine, y/n, so prepare yourself as well as possible, they will fall for you- she approached the small bridge that united your cabins in the middle of the sea, while she blowed you a flirtatious kiss.

You just laughed and walked towards the windows, admiring the sea. You were literally in paradise, your bedrooms floated above the ocean, the white sand was not so far from where you were staying in, and the horizon was clearer than ever. How lucky you were to have a friend who helped you get over your breakups with a very casual trip to Bora Bora at the Four Seasons hotel. Loneliness invaded you for a second and you decided to get ready for the long-awaited meeting that you would have with her friends.

╚═══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ═══════╝

A white beach dress with pink heels and your tan is enough, with the right makeup obviously. It was already 7 pm and your nervous friend looked at her cell phone while texting with someone

-Is it him?- You ask, trying to peek behind her shoulder to see if you could figure out what they're talking about.

-Yes, he is telling me he's here at the bar but he doesn't see us-

-Of course, we are sitting, let me raise my hand- and so you did it.

-Here!!!!- Your friend screams in excitement when she sees 3 tall figures approaching to you. They seemed to walk on a slow pace, almost like the came out of a movie. And yes, your heart almost stopped for a good 10 seconds. Three guys, my gosh, models? What were they again?. God definitely had preferences for some human beings.

The fact that they aere so handsome and well… structured made you blush. Jaehyun, Johnny and ...

-Mark, nice to meet you- the youngest of the 3 of them greeted me, with a dazzling smile that makes his dimples appear. You bit your lip and studied his entire face so that you would never forget him again. -y/n, nice to meet you too-

╚═══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ═══════╝

Nothing more and nothing less than Mark Lee himself. His makeup was completely smeared, traces of mascara under his closed eyes. His forehead and nose were reflecting the daylight a bit. It was a hot morning (or evening), and having you next to his body was obviously going to make him sweat. His open, broken lips gave off that smell of alcohol that made you sick. But despite of everything, your sight softened after a couple of seconds. He was sleeping so peacefully, and he was clinging to you like his life depended on it, so you couldn't help but smile.

-Mark... wake up- you whispered softly while you tried to get up.

-Hmmmh, what time is it?- his morning voice made my stomach tingle a bit, your sight never leaving his figure while he starts waking up.

He squinted while he sit up in bed slowly, ruffling his own hair. It was obvious that he was in the same blank state you were a few minutes ago, and you could tell by how he confusingly looked around at the room, until his eyes reached at you. His face expression softened, giving you a shy smile.

-Do you need some clothes?- he asked, blushing when he studied your naked torso with lazy eyes. You realized that you both were entirely naked, and you rushed to cover your breasts with your arms, just to earn a pure laugh from him, that made your head resonate in pain.

-We fucked, y/n, no need to hide- Mark put all his weight on his left elbow, getting closer to you while tilting his face flirtatiously. That made you cheeks go red as ever.

-Yes, but I don't remember anything so your point is automatically invalid- His body hovered yours so fast that you couldn't even process what was happening, until he pecked your lips.

-I remember everything, so I will refresh your memory-

You burst out laughing while he deposited soft pecks all over your face. The situation was so sweet, but it didn't make you feel uncomfortable at all. He interrumpted his love actions and looked at you hungrily.

-Mark, I barely can keep myself awake, i feel like I'm going to puke...-You warned him, reading his intentions.

-Okay okay- he looked down defeated- At least, can we cuddle a bit more? I promise I can make the hangover feel better- He tangled his legs and arms to your body, resting his face on your collarbones.

╚═══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ═══════╝

Everything on that evening was talking about the mortality of a crab. Basics like where you were from, what do you do for a living and relationship status open the conversation.

Your attention was drawn to Mark when he started to introduce himself. As a Medicine student, he decided with his 2 best friends that were part of a band to go on a trip to relax due to the busy schedules that consumes their time. The three live together on a small apartment in Korea, where the rent is expensive so they can make it more affordable.

Bora-bora was the destination of their choice. It seems that the band called NCT 127 draw lot of attention from crazy fans who followed them EVERYWHERE, so an expensive place like so would be easier to have a time for them on their own.

Mark spoke always adding "like" between his words, he liked to lay back when he was sipping on his piña colada, but got closer to the table when you talked about your experience as a journalist.

He tried so hard to show interest on a topic he had no idea about, that his questions were kinda clueless, but it was obvious that it was his way to not cut the attraction and chat between you and him. It was a sexual tension you could feel by kilometers, every gaze you had was followed by a shy smile, and you felt tingles on your body everytime you had a bit of interaction.

-Do you guys do shots?- Rosé interrumpted the conversation, scanning the boys reaction.

-I mean, that's why we are here- Johnny combed his hair backwards, already feeling heated by the 2 gin tonics he drank in 15 minutes. I couldn't deny, him on a tight black shirt looked hot as fuck, I could notice how Rosé was drooling for him- Excuse me, maa'am- he raised his hand, calling the waitress- 3 rounds of shots please!-

-Man, we had 2 yesterday and you almost puked on the sea, go easyyyy- you could notice the tipsy state from Jaehyun as well. His eyes were almost closed on a thin line and his dorky smile betrayed him. Mark laughed out loud, first time in the night you heard him like that, with his cheeks tinted red. He took a big sip of his piña colada, looking at you directly at the eyes. Actually, you didnt noticed till that moment, but your legs started to feel a bit numb. Quite usual for you when the alcohol gets up on your head.

-I'm in!- you answer to Johnny's idea. Once the blue shots arrive, you quickly grab one.

-Cheers for this night to be special- he screams with a deep voice, and the other 2 guys howl as response while you burst out laughing.

When you decided that the amount of alcohol on your body was enough, you took a chance to go to the beach to sing and dance to the DJ placed randomly in there.

You felt bliss, the EDM music was filling your senses, but you tried to keep your eyes full opened so you could remember the beautiful but blurry view of the sunset.

Together with your new group of friends were a mess. Jumping, screaming, raising your hands like you could touch the sky, everything seemed possible at that moment. Even dancing and getting laid with Mark.

The music had nothing to do with your plan, but you got dangerously close to him, resting your arms on his shoulders. You could see that he chuckled, tilting his head back so he could see you fully. Both of you were drunk as hell, you thought you were killing it with the flirting skills, but probably you just looked like two fools trying not to fall for the obvious drunken state you were.

-Do you wanna kiss me?- you screamed while "Jenny" sounded on the speakers. What kind of question is that?

-Sure I do- his canadian accent made you bite your lip while smiling- Can I?- his voice tried to mimic yours, but you didnt answered, it wasnt necessary.

Your lips collided as you got close at the same time, and Mark wasted no time to open his mouth and let his tongue in your wet cavity. You moaned so loud, because you knew no one could hear it but him. A fierce fight between both of your tongues started, every graze of them would make yourself wetter and wetter. He squeezed your waist and tried to keep you closer to him if it was possible, in his drunk mind he was scared you could run away from him.

Nothing about the context was romantic at all. You both physically liked eachother and just wanted to make out. No love at first sight, no kiss with fireworks behind, just pure desire.

Adrenaline rushed your body when his hands cupped your ass, that was only covered by the thin dress you decided to wear. Nobody near you could care less about what you two were doing it, but for you, everyone was looking at the show you and Mark were offering, and that obviously turned you on.

You bit Mark's lower lip, sucked on it, while opening your eyes to look directly at him. Eyes closed, he was enjoying how you toyed his lips. The hard grip on your skin, and a bulge poking your stomach made you feel powerful, you were loving the effect you caused on him.

Suddenly, an arm made you break your kiss with Mark. You lose your balance so you hug the guy that was pulling you backwards. Johnny.

-Hey, pornstars, we have some nice shit here- he pointed his hand with his eyes. You could see a tiny bag with a white dust inside. You come to your senses and look around at the crowd to try find Rosé, but it was obvious she already was under the influence. She was on Jaehyun's shoulders, enjoying the music. You sigh, chuckling at the sight of her losing her mind.

-Its my first time though- you commented while you look at Johnny spreading the dust on top of his phone screen with one hand using a credit card. You could notice he was an expert at it, you peek to see Mark right by your side looking at the manouvers as hypnotized as you. Probably it was his first time too.

You both snorted the little substance, and it sucked at first. It was so uncomfortable, but it took minutes for you to get used to that weird sensation on your nose.

You didnt even noticed when everything started to amplify. You could feel the summer breeze making its way around you, the taste of Mark's saliva still on your tongue was strong, the colorful tins of the sky while it was dusking looked so enhanced.

A hand grabbed yours, taking you out of your trance, and almost felt like an orgasm. So warm and so soft, made you wanna scream. You turned to see a fucked out Mark, studying your face with dilated pupils, he was almost as horny as you by only grabbing hands.

He caressed yours with his thumb, and it felt like he was fucking you, your body shivered at it. Mark was enjoying it too, so he brought your fingers closer to his mouth and inserted the index one inside, and started to suck on it. You moaned and felt how your pussy clenched at nothing, the saliva coating your finger felt like caramel, if you could explain the feeling.

-Mark if you keep doing that i'm gonna cum- you told him with a warning tone, he was so inmersed on sucking your finger that he jumped when you talked. He was aroused by the situation too.

He smiled with your finger still inside of his mouth, took it out, holded you by your wrist and started to run towards...

╚═══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ═══════╝

-And we ended up here- Mark sumed up the night while you were laying on his chest, caressing it with the tip on your fingers. His, on the other hand, were playing with the locks of your hair.

-Yeah, i remember now, such a night- and then you snapped- Wait... where the fuck is...-

-Yeah, she was having a threesome with the boys. Dont worry, she was having a good time-Mark answered with a playful tone. Of course, that sounds like a very Rosé thing to do. You let out a breathy laugh.

-We could have joined...- you suggested, looking up at him. He took a few seconds to answer, while his eyes moved from one corner to the other of the ceiling, like he was evaluating that scenario.

-Yeah, and sharing? No thanks- he bit his lip and he looked at you with a greedy smile- I felt so lucky to have you screaming my name over and over-

You hit his shoulder with your fist playfully, and he took that as an answer to keep silent and just enjoy the company of the other.

╚═══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ═══════╝

2 days went by, you get used to hang out with the boys. All kinds of crazy stuff you could imagine, you were doing it with them, and it felt like heaven. Mark couldnt keep his hands to himself and everytime he had the opportunity, he would make you cum on his fingers or mouth. And the same goes for you, too. Thanks to him, you noticed how good you are at giving blowjobs inside public restrooms.

But nothing lasts forever, sadly, and the last day of your summer vacation arrived. Rosé and you were ready to go back to Seoul, while they would be staying a little bit longer. It hurted, you got used to Mark's attention, and either him or you wanted to ask for eachothers contact. Not because of lack of interest, but because both of you thought that the other saw it as an adventure. You didn't even knew his last name.

His lips devours yours before you could get in the car that was waiting for you on the street -I wont forget you, thanks for this amazing 3 days- he smiled, a tint of sadness on his eyes. You caressed his cheek, pecking his nose, trying to hurry as much as you coulf so you wouldnt start to feel emotional.

-Y/l/n-

He looked at you clueless -What?-

-My last name is y/l/n- you smiled and without waiting for an answer, you close the door of the car.

╚═══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ═══════╝

-Hey, hey, it's okay- typical of Rosé being so overdramatic. Sure, your finger almost got cut in half while you were trying to cook some carbonara, but it wasnt a big deal, something a few stitches couldn't fix. The only thing that kept your finger from gushing blood out was a piece of toilet paper.

-Please! My friend needs a doctor!!!!- She screamed at the top of her lungs inside the hospital.

-What happened?- a nurse hurried, worried eyes scanning you both.

-She is losing her finger!!!!- Rosé felt she was going to faint.

-Jesus, Rosé, calm down-

The nurse takes a quick look at your finger- Yeah it doesn't look that good, please follow me. You are lucky we don't have that many patients on New Years Eve-

You are guided to a tiny room full of medical stuff, probably where you are going to get your finger sticked together. It hurted as fuck, but you were trying to keep focused on something other than the pain. You looked at the desk with the computer on, and on a hidden corner you noticed a picture of 3 friends, on a place that seemed too familiar to you. Actually, the friends also seemed like an old ones you had... maybe in university? You can't quite remember.

The door opened up while you were trying to dig into your memories , and you looked at the door startled.

-So, Mrs y/n...- that voice, that motherfucking voice. A year has passed. But how the fuck you were supposed to forget it?. You felt your ears buzzing, face heating and heartbeat racing. You were losing your breath and suddenly the pain of your finger got worst and worst.

He didn't turn to look at you, just got inside by looking at his phone, and once he was sit in front of you, his facial expression dropped.

There were the both of you, looking at eachother like dumb teenagers, like your finger wasnt bleeding out, almost like you were backat that bar in Bora-bora again.

-I... uh... yeah, my finger- you stutter, pointing at it. Mark shakes his head, coming back at his professional senses.

Before the medical procedure he performed, he bandaged your finger, and wrote some medicine you had to take for the pain to go away.

-It should be okay on a few weeks, nothing to worry about- he smiled at you, trying to comfort you. You felt your heart drop when he grabbed the healthy of both of your hands and caressed your palm with his thumb, everything felt like a flashback. You looked at him with clueless eyes.

-I... uh... I should come back in a few weeks then- you stuttered, pressing your lips into a thin line while looking at him directly on his eyes. He nods.

-Lee-

You frowned -Huh?-

-My last name is Lee-

#nct 127 smut #nct 127 scenario #nct scenario #nct smut #mark lee #mark lee scenario #mark lee smut #mark lee imagines #kpop smut #kpop scenario #kpop imagines

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criminalmindzjunkie · 3 years

Text

I Carry Your Heart With Me (Part One)

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Summary: Spencer and the reader are reunited for the first time in fifteen years.

A/N: Very excited to get the ball rolling on this one. I hope you all enjoy it! Message me if you would like to be added to the taglist.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 4.5k

“I cannot believe you talked me into this,” Damien mutters from the passenger seat, his icy blue eyes wide with fright. He pulls his gaze away just long enough to point at a lone cow grazing to the left of the road. “Look! That cow is just like… standing there. No fence around him or anything. What’s stopping him from stampeding into us the second we get out of this car?”

Damien sounds so genuinely horrified that you almost feel bad for laughing. Almost.

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Dee. Besides, that cow didn’t even look up when we drove past. We’re not even on its radar.”

“Oh, yeah? Ever heard of a little thing called mad cow disease?” Damien persists, in typical dramatic flair. You roll your eyes at him and he curses underneath his breath. “You know, when I agreed to go with you to this wedding, I pictured something more akin to a five-star resort with a minibar and a heated pool. Not rogue livestock and shitty cellphone reception.”

“You didn’t agree to anything – you practically begged me to take you with me.”

Damien waves his hand, dismissive, his eyes still roaming over the pasture. “Because I wanted an excuse to take a week off work. This is not the controlled environment I expected.”

“If you don’t quit complaining, I won’t hesitate to push you out of the car and leave you here with the cow,” you retort. In your periphery you’re able to make out Damien raising his middle finger to you. Rude.

You chuckle and fix your attention back on the dirt road. You’re driving almost painfully slowly, because the very idea of having to pay extra for damages to this already astronomically expensive rental car makes you feel nauseated. Despite your efforts, the car is covered entirely in dust. Its once pristine, white paint job has transformed into a muddy color.

There goes my deposit.

You shake your head at the thought. You had more pressing matters to concern yourself with; i.e., the fact that you were approximately five minutes away from coming face to face with the one person you swore you’d never speak to again. Two months seemed like ample time to prepare yourself in theory, but now that it is no longer some far-off thing, you know that your attempts at preparing yourself were in vain. With each day you crossed off the calendar leading to your departure date, your anxiety grew and grew until you worried your poor heart would give out under the stress. Getting onto the plane bound for Montana felt like the proverbial nail in the coffin, and a hefty dose of Dramamine was the only thing that kept you from spiraling as the plane ascended into the air. You slept through the entirety of the trip and, much to Damien’s chagrin, there is a sizeable puddle of drool on his left shoulder to prove it.

The lengthy nap helped. The tight band constricting your chest had loosened, and you pulled out onto the highway feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. You had Damien by your side and five vacation days to enjoy. Your best friend was getting married to the love of her life, and you were hellbent on standing by her side through it all. Spencer Reid can kiss your ass, as far as you are concerned. No way is he going to ruin this for you.

You are still very much clinging your take-no-shit mentality when you breach a hill and the ranch comes into view, effectively expelling every single positive thought from your head. Aforementioned anxiety reappears in full-force and you stomp down on the breaks.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can do this,” you squeak out, casting a look at Damien, whose eyes are trained on the sprawling expanse of the house ahead of you. “We can still turn around – no, we should turn around. There is no version of this that won’t end in me getting embarrassingly drunk and crying in front of everyone. I’m turning around.”

Damien’s hand on yours, strong and steady, is the only thing that keeps you from whipping the car around and retreating with your tail between your legs. His fingers pry your white knuckled grip off of the wheel slowly, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles across your skin. Its sweet and so overwhelmingly gentle that you’re a bit stunned. You glance at him in a silent question, as if to ask who are you, and what have you done with my friend?

He gets the message loud and clear, because of course he does. Damien fixes you with a smile, grip tightening on your hand.

“I’ve seen you hold your own against some of the biggest names in journalism on an almost daily basis – looking damn sexy while you do it, might I add,” Damien chuckles, and you can’t help but give a weak laugh of your own. Damien’s smile grows at this, and he continues, “If you can handle your business against those conniving pricks, I’ve no doubt that you can tough it out for this. You’re not the type of woman that lets some guy dictate what she does or doesn’t do. And you sure as hell aren’t the type of woman that would let some guy rob her of the opportunity to stand by her best friend on the most important day of her life. As the person who probably knows you better than anyone else on the planet, my opinion of you is pretty rock-solid, if I do say so myself. So, unless I’ve completely overestimated the extent of your badassery, I suggest you rethink that plan. What do you say?”

You avert your eyes and swallow against the lump in your throat.

“Spencer’s not just some guy. For a long time, I was convinced that he was the guy,” you whisper. The car is silent, save for the quiet crooning voice of George Michael flowing through the speakers. Damien squeezes your hand, prompting you to continue. You blink up at him with wet lashes, lips pulled into a sad smile. “Have you ever been in love?”

Damien shakes his head and rubs his thumb along the top of your hand. “I can’t say that I have, babe. Haven’t been that lucky.”

You let out a shaky breath and bring your other hand up to wipe at your eyes.

“Maybe you’re better off. I’ve only been in love once,” you gesture to your pitiful appearance and choke out a wet laugh. “Look where that got me. He fucking crushed me, and fifteen years later I’m still broken up about it. It’s pathetic.”

Damien frowns and shifts in his seat so that he’s fully facing you.

“I don’t want to hear you say that self-deprecating shit again. You were hurt by someone you gave your heart to, and I can only imagine how devastating that must feel. Being upset about seeing him again does not make you pathetic. The fact that you’re here, about to spend a week with the guy just so you can be there for Cassidy, is pretty damn admirable as far as I’m concerned.” Damien ends his monologue by pulling you into a tight hug, and you couldn’t be more thankful that he’d come with you. Not only was he a secret sweetheart, he also gave the very best hugs.

By the time he releases you, the tension in your chest has eased significantly. You nod once, and Damien’s rewards you with a smile.

“I am pretty cool, aren’t I?”

Damien snorts rather unattractively and rolls his eyes.

“I take back everything. You suck, and I don’t know why I bother with you, you narcissist.”

Now that the mood has lifted significantly, you reluctantly press your foot against the gas pedal.

“Too late. No takesies backsies,” you singsong. “You think I’m sexy and badass, and I’m never going to let you forget it.”

Damien mutters something undoubtably snarky underneath his breath, but it’s drowned out by the sound of gravel crunching underneath the tires. That, and the sound of your blood roaring in your ears as you inch further down the driveway.

The house, a beautiful log cabin with stone accents along the underside, is massive. Standing at two stories tall with a large wraparound porch and more than a dozen large windows, it’s a far cry from the modest little cabin in the mountains that Cassidy had made it out to be. Even Damien is slack jawed at the sight of it, sitting pretty against a back drop of rolling mountains, and you can’t help but feel a little smug.

“Still want to complain about that five-star resort?”

Damien shakes his head dazedly, “I retract my earlier complaint.”

All too soon, you roll to a stop and put the car in park. Several other cars are parked haphazardly in the grass around you, and that annoying voice inside your head wonders which one belongs to Spencer. It’s not that you care – you totally don’t – it’s just that you are kind of hoping that he hasn’t arrived yet. A few hours to acclimate to the environment before having to deal with him would be nice.

“You’ve got this, babe,” Damien murmurs. “And I’ll be with you the whole time, just in case you need a reminder.”

You flash Damien a nervous smile.

“You’re a really good friend, Dee. I’m really glad that you’re here,” you say, before narrowing your eyes at him. “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

Damien snorts and pushes open the door.

“Get your sassy ass out of the car. I’m ready to mingle.”

As soon as you set foot on the porch, the front door flies open and a flash of curly red hair precedes a collision that nearly sends you flying back into the railing. Ecstatic squeals rip through the otherwise serene evening air and two boney arms envelop you into a tight hug.

“I cannot believe you’re actually here,” Cassidy laughs as she squeezes you tight. Her enthusiasm has you joining in, the two of you laughing happily and pulling back to examine one another. Cassidy places a sloppy kiss to both of your cheeks before throwing an arm over your shoulder. “I fully expected you to just blow off the whole thing, if I’m being honest.”

You cast at Damien, who’s watching on with an amused grin on his face.

“Believe me, she tried.”

Cassidy turns her attention to Damien and extends her free hand.

“I take it you’re the infamous Damien that I’ve been trading emails with?”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, “Wait, what? The two of you have been emailing?”

Damien accepts Cassidy’s hand and gives it a firm shake, all while smiling smugly.

“Yep. Me and Ms. Cassidy go way back.”

“I mean, that’s cool, I guess, but why?”

Cassidy and Damien share a look, both of them shrugging.

“Mainly to talk about you,” Cassidy admits, not even bothering to look apologetic. When you frown up at her she waves her hand dismissively at you. “All good things, I promise. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Cassidy punctuates her words with a patronizing pat on your shoulder.

“I knew letting you two meet was a bad idea,” you grumble.

Cassidy simply drops her arms from its place on your shoulder in favor of tugging on your hand.

“Come on, sour puss. I want you to meet my husband. He’s a real sweetie – you’re gonna love him.”

A flash of white-hot panic shoots down your spine and you dig your heels into the floor.

“Wait,” you squeak out, eyes wide. “Is… Is he here yet?”

Cassidy’s eyes shine mischievously, briefly flitting up to Damien before returning to you.

“He is. And you’ll be happy to know that pictures do not do the Good Doctor any justice.”

Salt, meet wound.

“Don’t know why you’re telling me that,” you mutter.

“Denial is not just a river in Egypt, my friend,” Cassidy singsongs as she begins tugging you forward. For someone so tiny, she makes easy work of forcing you through the threshold.

The foyer is just as impressive as you expect it to be – beautiful cedar walls and a grand staircase that leads to the second floor. If you weren’t horribly on edge at the current moment, you would definitely comment on the fact that the foyer alone is probably larger than your entire apartment, but you’re too busy scanning the immediate area for tall skinny white guys with stupidly curly brown hair to comment on the grandiosity.

Cassidy leads the two of you to double doors to the right, and just as she’s about to push them open, the shrill ring of your cellphone offers you an out.

You slip your hand from Cassidy’s grip and give her a faux apologetic look.

“I should probably take this – it might be work.”

Damien narrows his eyes at you. “I thought you left your work phone at home.”

You ignore him and begin taking a few steps backwards, “Is there somewhere private I can go?”

An indiscernible look flashes across Cassidy’s face and then her lips pull up into a sugary sweet smile. “Follow the hallway to the very end. Leads to the back porch,” she says. “No need to rush. Take all the time you need!”

Okay, weird, you think to yourself, but the idea of putting off the inevitable for a few extra moments is too tempting to pass up, so you continue your retreat. You make it to the back door in record time and let out a relieved breath as you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hi, mom.”

“Hi, baby. I was just calling to make sure the two of you got there safely.”

You push open the back door and the breathtaking view of the ranch prompts you to take pause; sprawling fields and rolling hills as far as the eye can see, grazing livestock congregating near a lazy stream at the far end of the property, and several horses running across the expanse of the left field. It was wonderfully serene and vastly different from the bustling rat-race that was New York.

You smile to yourself when a loud moo rips through the otherwise quiet ranch. I could get used to this.

“Yeah, we made it,” you murmur into the receiver. “You would love this place, Mom. It’s probably the prettiest place I’ve ever been. I’ll send you a picture when I hang up.”

“How’s Cassidy? Still a little spit-fire, I assume?”

You lean against the railing and let out a snort, “Oh, absolutely. Don’t think that’ll ever change.”

“I’d hope not,” your mother hums. “How does Damien like the ranch?”

“He’s not exactly a fan of the livestock,” you chuckle. “Damien’s never even seen a real cow before. City boy through and through, that one.”

You and your mother share a laugh that dissolves into a comfortable silence. Comfortable, until the telltale clearing of your mother’s throat warns you of the impending inquisition.

“So,” your mother begins. “Are you going to tell me how it went, or are you going to leave an old woman wondering? “

You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “Fortunately, I have yet to run into him. I may or may not be hiding out on the back porch as we speak in an attempt to avoid just that.”

“Y/N,” your mother chastises. “Prolonging the inevitable isn’t going to make this any easier.”

“I know, I know. I’ll go in there soon. It’s just a lot, you know? I needed to take a breather, first.” Just until my hands stop shaking. Or until Cassidy comes hunting for me. Whichever comes first.

“I know, baby,” your mother coos. “I’m proud of you for trying. Just don’t drag things out, okay? You’ll only make yourself sick with nerves.” Unfortunately, that ship has sailed. The rolling in your stomach can attest to that.

You laugh a humorless laugh, “I don’t know, Mom. You always like to remind me how stubborn I am. I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can just avoid him for the entire week.”

A tiny movement at the very corner of your vision and a loud creak makes you whip your head around, and what you see has your heart falling to your ass.

Spencer Reid, looking absolutely stunning in a pair of khaki dress pants and a white cable-knit sweater, sits in a porch swing with wide eyes and a book clutched tightly in his hands. Soft, caramel-colored curls frame his face and a five o’clock shadow runs the length of his jaw, adding a bit of grown-up flare to his otherwise boyish features.

He looks every bit as beautiful as he did on the day he broke your heart.

Spencer knows that he should have spoken up as soon as you walked onto the porch. It was immediately obvious that you hadn’t seen him, and he swears he’s one second away from clearing his throat and launching into the introduction he’d been planning for the last sixty days. But the words die on his tongue as he drinks in the sight of you.

You’re so close to him for the first time in years and it’s more than a little bit dizzying. And yeah, he’s used his very limited knowledge of how the internet works to Google you on more than one occasion, but the version of you leaning against the porch railing is a far cry from the pixelized one. A light breeze rolling through the air lifts your hair away from your face, and Spencer’s breath catches in his throat as he surveys every perfect inch, from the curl of your lashes to the smattering of freckles on your nose. He indulges himself, eyes settling on your cherry red lips, fascinated by the way they move as you talk on the phone. Spencer is intimately familiar with those lips – can recall the way they felt pressed against his own. The years spent apart have done nothing to dull the memories. He’s not entirely sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.

It amazes him how you’ve somehow managed to change a lot, but also not at all. You stand before him as an oxymoron personified, and it’s a lot for Spencer’s poor heart to take in. Your hair is a bit lighter than he remembers, as well as a little longer, but it still looks just as soft and he can recall with startling clarity how it felt when he used to run his fingers through it. You have a few more laugh lines than you did, as well as a scar on your left elbow that hadn’t been there before, but everything else about you is so painfully familiar that Spencer could almost pretend that no time had passed – that he still knows your body as well as he once did.

Spencer knows this isn’t true. Every seven years, the body resets; old cells destroyed and replaced with new ones. You’ve both spent enough time apart that your bodies have reset twice over. You’re as much of a stranger to him as he is to you.

Spencer positively abhors the thought.

The sound of your laughter pulls him from the depths of his mind, and while the laugh isn’t warm or inviting in the slightest, he relishes it. What was once one of his favorite sounds has existed in his head as only a memory for far too long. Hearing it in person is jarring in the best of ways.

The euphoria he feels dies a horrible death when you speak again.

“I don’t know, Mom. You always like to remind me how stubborn I am. I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can just avoid him for the entire week.”

Fucking ouch.

Spencer cringes hard, too hard, because the porch swing screeches out an angry creak and you whip around and holy shit, have your eyes always been that entrancing?

He watches as your entire body goes rigid, tensed as if you’re about to bolt. You blink hard, eyebrows drawn together to form an adorably bewildered expression as you assess him. Spencer hopes he doesn’t look too disheveled. He hadn’t even thought to freshen up after his trip, an oversight that he’s regretting terribly as your eyes flit over him.

Spencer isn’t sure why, but he stands up. Maybe it has something to do with feeling vulnerable. Maybe he just wants to close the distance. The two steps he takes towards you support the latter. He’s thankful that you don’t move away, but the blank expression on your face worries him.

The two of you stand five feet apart, but you feel worlds away. Spencer refrains from speaking for as long as he can stand, which is only about thirty seconds.

“Hi.”

Your lips part, and Spencer holds his breath.

“Hi.”

More silence. Spencer gulps.

“It’s good to see you,” he says, cautious. The last thing he wants to do is fuck up within the first five minutes. Unfortunately, his brain and his mouth seem to have some sort of disconnect, and Spencer continues against his better judgment. “It’s been a while.”

It’s been a while? That’s seriously the best I can come up with?

Spencer contemplates drowning himself in the nearby stream.

“It certainly has.”

“Five-thousand, five-hundred and seventeen days.” And roughly thirty-six and a half hours, but who’s counting?

Muted noises flow out of your phone speaker and you pull your eyes away from Spencer. He’s both relieved and devastated.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. I just ran into someone. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

Spencer agonizes over the fact that he’s been reduced to someone while you and your mother exchange goodbyes. You’re smiling when you look up at him again, but Spencer’s seen what a genuine smile of yours looks like, and this isn’t it.

“I didn’t see you sitting there. My apologies.” Your formality makes the situation all the more excruciating.

Spencer lets out a nervous laugh, “I suppose avoiding me is out of the question now, huh?”

It’s hard to tell who’s more horrified by the words that tumble from his mouth, you or Spencer. A fierce flush spreads across your cheeks. It’s the first crack in your otherwise calm and collected exterior thus far and Spencer relishes in it. Maybe you’re not as unaffected by him as you seem.

“I… I’m sorry you had to hear that,” you stammer, blinking up at him with guilty eyes. “That wasn’t very kind of me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can’t say that I’m undeserving of your anger,” Spencer whispers so quietly that he worries you don’t hear him over the gentle flow of the stream. The hardness that returns to your eyes lets him know that you heard every word.

You clear your throat, signaling your unwillingness to discuss that particularly painful topic. “You’re still partial to Cummings, I see.” You gesture to the book clutched tightly against his chest.

Now, it’s Spencer’s turn to blush. The book in his hands, tattered and worn from years of use, is incriminating. The two of you both know what lies just beneath the binding. The fact that Spencer has it with him now makes him think that he might as well be wearing a t-shirt that reads, I’M STILL NOT OVER YOU.

Spencer raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Old habits die hard, I guess.” His eyes scour your face for a sign of anything that might clue him in to you feeling the same way. A flicker of something dances across your face, but it’s gone so quickly that he can’t be sure if he imagined it. He forces a nervous smile. “If I remember correctly, he was your favorite.” It’s a shitty attempt at a joke.

You exhale a shaky breath and to his absolute horror, your lower lip begins to wobble. He wishes he could reach up and pluck his words from where they hang heavy in the air.

“Not anymore,” you murmur, and fuck if that doesn’t absolutely wreck him.

Spencer shouldn’t ask, but he can’t help himself. “Oh. Why not?”

He holds his breath, anxiously anticipating your next words. You seem to be battling with yourself, mouth opening and closing several times. Spencer is content to wait as long as it takes for you to answer, but the universe is much more impatient than he.

The door leading onto the porch swings open and out walks an honest to God Abercrombie and Fitch model. Or at least, a man who meets the qualifications and then some. Long, flowing blonde hair and a crisp white dress shirt makes Spencer’s unruly brown mop and dumpy sweater look pitiful in comparison. Spencer frowns.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been out here for like ten minutes,” the man chastises as he closes the distance between you and him. Spencer watches him wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you to him like someone might watch a car wreck happen; with equal parts horror and morbid curiosity. “You can’t hide out forever.”

All traces of rigidity leave your body and you melt into the man’s side. It happens in such a way that screams familiarity, as if the pet name hadn’t already driven that point home. The awful, gut-wrenching realization slams home and Spencer has to fight to keep his knees from buckling.

“Uh, sorry,” you mumble, before nodding your head in Spencer’s direction. “Damien, this is Spencer Reid.”

The man’s – Damien’s - eyes go almost comically wide as they settle on Spencer’s dejected frame, before schooling into a cool indifference. He offers him a polite smile that’s a little tight around the edges, but doesn’t outstretch his hand.

“Ah, Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Spencer swallows hard to keep himself from barking out a crazed laugh. He’s heard of me! That’s certainly something, considering the fact that no one thought it necessary to tell Spencer that you have a –

Spencer’s eyes dart down to your left hand. Thankfully, mercifully, your ring finger is bare.

“Uh, y-yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” The words burn as they roll off his tongue.

Damien nods at him before turning back to you. There’s an unmistakable fondness in the way he looks at you as he speaks. “Cassidy wants everyone back inside. They’re about to serve dinner.”

You smile up at him, not even casting a parting glance at Spencer before Damien leads you back inside. Spencer stands there long after the door closes behind the two of you.

The book feels heavy in his hands.

taglist: @is-this-even-important @evelyncade @usuck @m0rce1ddd @bauhousewife @whxt-to-write @spencerwaltergubler @lovesicksofi @idgafayiowf @shadyladyperfection @mercy-burning @sapphic-prentiss @itsmytimetoodream @m0rce1ddd @bauhousewife @whxt-to-write @spencerwaltergubler @enchantedcruelsummer @no-honey-no @inkstainedwritergirl @tnoh13 @xxconfettiitsaparade @calm-and-doctor @muffin-cup @fortheloveofcriminalminds @arcticrory @holl2712@themanwiththreephds @blameitonthenight21 @stellabelle @me-a-hopeless-romantic @musicxlover97 @anightflower @andiebeaword @annesauriol @haylaansmi

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #fanfiction #icyhwm #my writing #spencer #reid

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nightswithkookmin · 3 years

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Hi Goldy: I just recently started reading your blog and I would like your thoughts on something. I am 100% convinced JiKook is a real relationship-there's just too much evidence to deny it. :-) I love their connection. I wonder about your thoughts on it being even more difficult for the members/company/fans to accept since JK is often portrayed as the heartthrob/can't do anything wrong member of the group? Do you think that makes it harder for everyone to accept that their Golden Maknae is gay?

Heartthrob who can do no wrong???

Chilee, I can hear Jungkook chuckling in his Itaewon home reading this bit right now. Lmho.

I don't know how to feel about Gay and wrong and acceptance being neighbors in a sentence. Sounds like a set up to an unsolicited, unwanted advice about gender and sexuality.

There's nothing wrong with being gay or queer. If people can't accept Jungkook is gay because they think he does no wrong because they interchange gay and wrong in a sentence then those people need to be castrated and mummified alive.

That being said, I think I understand where you are coming from. Jungkook gets away with a lot within the fandom- not so much within the group. Unless of course, you're counting the messing with his hyungs and making them pay for stuff and him acting bratty with certain hyungs.

I mean being Maknae has its perks.

But I think the group holds him to much higher standards especially within Jikook's dynamic, which to me is crazy because Jimin is the hyung in that group.

Yet most times- untill dynamite era last year- they sort of had this weird Jimin is always right schtick going on within the group. And you could see this especially with RM and Suga when it came to the JK vs JM moments. I have a post saved in drafts on this topic and so I won't get much into it.

But yea, a lot has changed since October and you see this shift mostly in RM and JM's dynamics- I recall dropping hints here and there about how I felt Minimoni needed to spend more time together off cams cos I thought it would be good for their dynamic? There's been a lopsided shift in Kookminjoon's dynamic and I think it's quite telling of how they have handled Jikook's relationship even on that personal level.

I think more than anyone in BTS Jk has gone up against stereotypes and people's assumptions of him and he's always stood his grounds.

People take him as he is. They don't have a choice really. He doesn't bend himself to be consumable. If he did he wouldn't be spotting them tattoes and piercings. I think he is the least consumable member in BTS according to Kpop idol standards- in certain aspects. He don't be moving like a typical idol is what I'm saying- he doesn't sway too far away either.

Do I think he gets away with a lot in this fandom? ABSOLUTELY. A lot of idol's careers have ended for far less- the scandals, the body art, the ghetto gayness etc. He really doesn't give a fuck what anyone thinks of him. If he wants to get a tat he will. If he wants to fuck his band mate he will. Jeikei does what Jeikei wants.

I think if he came out today to say he likes men, or girls, or three breasted aliens- we will say ok and keep it pushing because he's gradually conditioned us to accept and be ok with who he is over the years.

"If army loves me they will accept me as I am. Rather dead than cool."

I don't think he negotiates negotiates his person with anyone. He may make compromises here and there but if push came to shove I think he would what he wants and what makes him happy and not what others want of him. He pushes the boundaries on the limits of what it means to be an idol in KPop and I think more so than Jimin he is the one best fitted to change the status quo in terms of the LGBTQIA discourse.

Jimin is a different case all together. He is an idol true and true and it makes me sad that he used to care so much what people thought of him and that he always tried to make others happy at his expense. And I can understand him because putting himself first and doing what he wants- especially in recent times, have come with consequences. He is constantly negotiating, straddling the line and trying to keep the balance- which is kind of a libra curse so I can't be mad at that really. But it sucks in the grand scheme of the LGBTQ agenda.

Whatever people think Jikook are, I think they are the exact opposite of it. It's just a matter of them showing it or living up to their truth I think. I love Jungkook- as a gay woman. I love that he is with JM because I feel they can accomplish a lot together if only JM will allow him to push his boundaries a little bit more and not resist it so much.

I think a lot of people can't believe and accept JK is gay because they are homophobic period or they have a very narrow view on life and gender and sexuality or they have just been bamboozled and they get thrown off by the mainstream hyper masculine image JK presents- which I think also stems from their being used to the stereotypes of gayness rather than gayness itself. They couldn't tell a gay man if he licked balls right in front of their salad.

A lot of what people see as gay is nothing but tropes and stereotypes of gayness. And so when they see a gay man who doesn't fall under those stereotypes they struggle to wrap their heads around it. In my opinion.

It's easier, for instance, for people to think masculine presenting women are queer than for them to wrap their heads around someone like beyonce being a lesbian- It's a loose analogy but sis work with me- I'm tired. Lol. And I say this from experience, between my sister and I, people often think she is the gay one. Lmho. Yet she is the least likely to be gay in my family. My little brother is bisexual if not gay chilee. Lol. We are the only queer ones in the family I think. But people clock him more so than I because he's effeminate. I often pass for a het- which sometimes I feel guilty about but this is not about me. Focus Goldy. [Also edit n delete ma'am]

I think it's the same for people's perception of gay men though. It's easier for people to wrap their heads around gay Jimin than gay Jk on that spectrum because Jimin fits a more traditional stereotype of gayness.

Truth is, anyone can be gay regardless of how they look or how they present as. Me when I look at BTS, JK is the most likely to dip his dick in some guts or try that gay shit at least once and next to him JM is the most likely member. Put those two together and I don't need my gay crystal ball to figure they might be screwing.

I gotta admit, I know some people who don't want to believe JK might be queer because they know the struggles that come with that identity. It could be they themselves are homophobic and have perpetrated violence and aggressions towards gay people- the karma of them loving someone who might be gay can do a number on them. Imagine that. Imagine hating on something only to find out your fave is that thing🙃

It's a myriad of things really but homophobia is always at the root of it.

I think people should stop trying to beat down their brains to accept something as fact that hasn't been confirmed. They should start with the baby steps- which member is the most likely to be gay in bangtan?

If the answer is any member besides Jikook I am beating you with a sledgehammer🤣

I hope this answers your question?

Did someone send me a Jesus loves me message recently? Y'all are too kind. I'm too gay he's gone wipe me on the hot floors of hell🤧

Signed,

GOLDY

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mikaze-discord · 3 years

Text

OG Heavens: Love letters

For these Heavens posts, I had reached out to a few people who just never ended up responding. With projects like these, please at least hear them out, you don't have to do it because I know its a huge project but at least tell them you won't be doing it instead of ghosting them. But apart from that little road block, this project was really fun!!

Please enjoy under the cut!!!!

EIICHI OTORI

From @milkmateartist:

I have always leaned towards megane characters and Eiichi is no exception. However, it's not often you see idols wearing glasses, and that is something I appreciate about Eiichi's design. His color palette also intrigues me since I love deep shades of blue. His royal blue jacket is very attractive, and the way he pops the collar also makes me go "kya!". His voice is also very sexy as well and is pleasing to the ear uwu. I love how egoistic he is too. Being incredibly ambitious he has been able to reach amazing heights that surpass other idols. The one thing that seems to make him unique though is that he really gets zealous and overly passionate when it comes to the power of music, so much that it makes him physically tremble. You could get high off that shit literally. His entire being is centered around being an idol, and all the components of him go above and beyond the requirements. It's not just a job for him or something that simply makes an earning or brings satisfaction. It's pretty much everything to him. For that reason he has made it to the top. There is also the component where he's lonely and isolated emotionally that interests me. Despite being a beloved idol, he clearly didn't get the love he needed growing up. Even though he had Eiji I feel as though his nature was more to protect Eiji and shield him from whatever terrors would arise. I admire his ability to come through all of that and pay attention to the things he really cared about. Eiichi can be himself, his strange, sexy self, but also he acknowledges the lonesome darkness within too. I think that component makes him incredibly powerful.

Extra Details:

While appearing to be a bad guy in the anime (at least), Eiichi seemed to be that typical bad boy idol that would steal away Haruka from the main group. The time when he approached Haruka and took her by the chin is a perfect example. How dare this new guy just think he can have his way with our protagonist! To be honest I liked that aspect about him a bit. While I can't remember my first impression of Eiichi aside from not knowing how to feel about that, he slowly grew on me. He had the appearance of just another selfish idol, demonstrated by swiping the mic away from the announcer at one of his concerts and immediately declaring their foreseen victory. So far that looked rather bland to me, and I was still cheering for STARISH. They really made him out to look like some bad guy who would not play fair and do whatever he could to take the throne (and the girl). It's not surprising his glasses shine adds to his 'freaky antagonist' vibe that the show seemed to try to give off, but however for me I love the glasses beam, thus having the opposite effect.

And then there is the Next Door episode. Now here's where we got to see more of Eiichi aside from when the HEAVENS Dragon demolished the entire stadium. Aside from kya-ing over the EiichiOtoya content (especially where he goes behind otoya and covers his eyes), I got to see more of him here. It surprised me that someone so cocky and confident was actually the same depressed, lonely person that Otoya was. But it was also evident to me as well that he did care about the effect it had on Otoya as well after he sort-of-well mind broke him. I like how he is ambitious but also still caring, as compared to an antagonist that would stop at nothing to achieve their goal regardless of how much pain they cause.

I also enjoy Eiichi because I feel like I can roleplay him well. Usually for me, roleplay has to achieve some kind of goal since I tend to be business oriented. I think to some degree I'm able to practice being a eboy idol through Eiichi, as I do enjoy charming the fans. It also helps that I can naturally play characters with an inflated ego who enjoy charming people.

From @/egoisticCEO on twt:

July 2019. When Eiichi was first introduced to me via his voice, I hated him from the very beginning. His singing, his appearance, his personality – everything about him made me despise him. It’s funny looking back and seeing how quickly my attitude changed towards him, realising I’d been biased against him because of a friend. Finding more about him, hate turned to interest. It seemed like his life hadn’t been the best. Maybe that was why he acted in such a way? Interest turned to liking him more. Maybe I’d misunderstood him. I’d made the mistake of taking him at surface level.

December 2019. Like was slowly turning to love. More and more, I found myself looking at him instead of my current favourites. I found myself wanting him to actually be a part of Egoistic. Once I started devouring HEAVENS Radio and unveiling his true character, it was shocking how quickly I fell. He truly acted like a father to everyone in his band. Giving them what he never received. Everything was for them to thrive.

2020. With how much I was at home, it only made sense I grew more obsessed. I found Life with Thanks’ translation. “We’re irreplaceable to him,” he tells us, and that made me certain that his heart wasn’t as evil as some people liked to believe. He’s a caretaker, someone who wants everyone to feel like they matter. Even at his own expense. Instead of selfish, he’s selfless.

I related to him more than I have to any character – it was comforting. Seeing someone have no choice but to put on a brave face, even when his confidence was at an all time low. 2020 got a lot harder for me, but when I recovered, Eiichi was like a home to go back to. Time and time again, I’d have to break away, but I’d always be invited back in by that stupid smirk and overexaggerated ego and the warmest heart you could ever find. Every scene I watched with him would make me smile. I’d tease him to myself. I still do.

2021. That brings us to now. I can’t see my love for this one of a kind man dying any time soon. I don’t want it to, either. Just looking at him makes me happy! He’s the type of character with so many facets to his personality that you can keep digging and never reach the end. So, in conclusion, I hope I never stop finding new things out about this wonderful idiot. More than anything, he deserves all the love he gives to others, and I’d love to provide it tenfold.

KIRA SUMERAGI

From Anon:

Many have their reasons to love their favorite characters. As for me, why Kira Sumeragi is my favorite character is because there are several things about him that I can relate myself to and there are a few qualities he has that I like about him. If many do not know about Kira that much, they’d look at who he is. He may look intimidating at first and may not talk much, when in actuality, Kira is a considerate, dependable, and mindful guy. Mainly, he is the type of guy that lets his actions do the explaining. He is a hard worker, as an idol, he looks after his bandmates, HEAVENS, like family. It’s like what Eiichi said in HEAVENS Radio about Kira, “he is HEAVENS’ pride!” Although he may not say much, Kira is very observant of his surroundings and never hesitates in his decisions. The members of HEAVENS understand and acknowledge Kira, knowing that he means well.

You can even tell in his solo music! Although there are only two solo songs for Kira, if you read the lyrics carefully, Kira’s thoughts and feelings are shown. Kira always knew that if he cannot explain his feelings through words, then he’ll let his songs and his actions do it for him for you to see. Although the anime doesn’t show much of Kira, the only way to get to know him more is through HEAVENS Radio, also drama CDs like Paradise Lost, and other media like LINE Messenger Japan. There’s still much that I’d want to know about him, but as a start, these things are what makes Kira my favorite character for HEAVENS.

From Anon:

Aside from my huge bias towards OnoD the first thing that drew my attention to Kira was his design. Dark haired anime boys with bright eyes have such a vibe and I loved how mysterious he was set up to be in season 2. But the thing that really hooked me a lot was the found family that Heavens became over the progression of the anime.

Particularly since people in the fandom have a bunch of funky headcanons about Kira being the mom friend in the group, which is incredibly wholesome. Kira’s very quiet and reserved but clearly holds a deep caring for his group members and does what he can when needed which is one of the reasons why he became so loveable for me.

NAGI MIKADO

From @/_PXRFECTIONIST on twt:

If I managed to stan Nagi, so will you.

Greetings. I present to you, once more, a story of how I came to love a character that I wished I threw hands with.

So.

Nagi Mikado.

The possible only utapri character that Shinomiya oshis despise. Thanks to what happened in the anime.

Truth be told, I too was one of them. Until I came to love Both Shinomiya and Nagi. Reason?

Research.

Ya see, it is universally agreed upon that the way Nagi was pushing and pulling at Shinomiya's trauma and DID was… Not okay. So I said "yeah okay what an obnoxious kid i dont think ill ever like him lol" especially since I never come to really warm up to people younger than me.

Boy was I wrong.

My heart really sways easily when I go deep into characters, and why they act the way they are. And also because I chose to roleplay as him, but let's not. Speak of that.

(its actually the main reason i like him in the first place who am i fooling)

Nagi is… Indeed obnoxious, and really has bad manners that are covered up by his cute looks and fame, especially since he's one of the original HEAVENS members, but once you get to really know him.. It makes sense why he's being such a brat. And that is sort of endearing. And knowing how his group is like family to him too, it becomes harder and harder to completely dislike him.

….

He really is a boss man.

He knows what he wants, and how to get it. He knows how to get people to like him without handing over the tiniest sliver of his weaknesses. He acts in his own way that shapes his personality to suit him, yet still manages to be caring and helpful, even if it's hard to see tenderness and good will through his aggression.

Reading his solo lyrics, listening to the drama CDs, even thinking of headcanons due to lack of lore, it all slowly comes together like a lovely parfait to suddenly make you realize..

'Wow…'

'I really do like that rat.

#utapri #utanoprincesama #uta no prince sama #eiichi otori #otori eiichi #Kira Sumeragi #Sumeragi Kira #Nagi Mikado #Mikado Nagi

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suituuup · 3 years

Text

unspoken 4/4

On the second day of her fourth and last year at Barden, Chloe meets an oddly quiet girl and finds herself drawn to her despite her silence. Asperger’s Beca.

rating: T

word count: 3,600

ao3 link

Cries crackle through the babyphone, cutting through Beca’s dream. Her eyes blink open and she feels her wife shift beside her, a soft sigh carrying above the cries.

“I’ll get her,” Beca murmurs, dropping a kiss to Chloe’s shoulder before slipping out of bed.

“Thanks, babe,” Chloe calls after her as Beca sleep-laden limbs drag her across the hall.

Despite the ungodly hour and how exhausted Beca feels, a soft smile pulls at her lips as she bends over the railing and gently plucks her daughter from the crib.

“It’s okay Peanut,” she whispers, brushing a kiss behind her ear. She carries her to the bedroom just as Chloe sits up, transferring her into Chloe’s arms. Spencer latches onto Chloe’s boob right away, her cries quieting down to soft, content coos.

The baby wraps her tiny hand around Beca’s pointer finger as she feeds, and Beca isn’t sure how much more cuteness her heart can take before it bursts.

It had never crossed Beca’s mind before she and Chloe’s relationship got serious that she would ever become a mom. Beca had lived in her own bubble until then, spending most of her life alone. Not being able to really speak from age 5 to 18 prevented her from bonding with anyone, and she’d never imagined she would fall in love, let alone make someone fall in love with her.

But Chloe… she wasn’t just someone. She managed to see past Beca’s social challenges and accepted Beca’s unconventional comfort zone instead of coaxing her out of it like people had tried to in the past, starting with her dad, who never attempted to understand her.

Beca trusts her wife with everything she has, so when Chloe told her she was convinced Beca would be an amazing mom despite her autism, Beca believed her.

Over the course of Chloe’s pregnancy, Beca became hyper-focused on everything she could learn about babies and motherhood. Some things could naturally only be learned through practice, but knowledge has always been her way to keep her fears to a minimum.

And when Spencer came into the world, Beca learned another way to love that is beyond what she’d ever felt before. For someone who had spent most of her life being told she didn’t feel like others typically do, Beca was terrified she wouldn’t be able to love her own child the way she was supposed to.

But as soon as she held her daughter in her arms that day, it was instant and overwhelming, and to this day the best thing Beca’s ever experienced.

As they’re taking interview after interview to find a nanny for Spencer before Chloe’s maternity leave is over, Beca brings up her desire to start working from home, and take care of Spencer while Chloe’s at work.

Chloe’s favorite part of the day is whenever she gets to come home to her family. Beca is usually cooking dinner while Spencer does what fifteen-month-olds usually get up to, like playing with her cubes, crawling at full speed to stuff she’s not supposed to get into (ie: Chloe’s make-up bag) and making cooking anything a challenging affair, or chatting to herself.

Tonight, Fleetwood Mac’s Everywhere is playing throughout the house from their expensive wireless speaker (Beca doesn’t kid about music-related stuff so the sound is incredible) and Chloe toes off her shoes before padding to the kitchen. She stops around the corner, a wide grin breaking across her face when she sees Spencer dancing in the middle of the room in nothing but her diaper, while her wife sings along to the lyrics with a spatula as her pretend-microphone.

Chloe’s caught filming half a minute later, flush rushing to meet Beca’s cheeks when she sees they have an audience. Chloe laughs and pockets her phone (that video is definitely going up on social media later) just as Spencer whirls around when she realizes her mama’s attention shifted to something else.

“Mamamamama,” Spencer babbles, toddling over and extending her arms up towards Chloe. They’re both mama for now, and are not pushing Spencer to call one of them mommy, figuring she’ll decide on her own later on.

“Hello my sweet girl,” Chloe gushes, blowing a raspberry into Spencer’s neck and drawing a giggle from her daughter. “I’ve missed you.”

“Mama dance,” Spencer requests, and Chloe can’t say no to those sparkling blue eyes. Not that she’ll ever say no to dancing, anyway.

She takes Spencer’s left hand and starts to sway to the music, her daughter’s delighted laughter filling the kitchen. Chloe stops once she’s standing near her wife, leaning over to press a kiss to her lips. “Hello.”

“Hey you,” Beca greets with a grin. “Good day?”

“Mhm. Glad to be home.”

As Chloe suspected, Beca is an amazing mom, if not a little bit overbearing sometimes. She shields Spencer a bit too much, while Chloe is the type of parent who lets her kid fall down or take a tumble whilst discovering new things.

So when Spencer trips at the park under Beca’s supervision a few months later, resulting in a trip to the ER, Beca is a mess. Upon getting to the hospital with Aubrey, Chloe is told they had to restrain and tranquilize her wife as she had started hitting herself and spiraling.

“Restrained?” Chloe echoes in shock.

“The psychiatrist on call has been paged, ma’am.”

Anger bubbles up Chloe’s frame. “She doesn’t need a freakin’ psychiatrist, she has autism!” She pinches the bridge of her nose, blowing out a breath. “Can you just… take me to her?”

While Aubrey stays with Spencer, Chloe is taken to the room her wife’s kept in. She strides over to the bed, laying a hand over Beca’s. “Oh my god, baby…”

It hasn’t happened often in the decade Chloe’s known Beca, but she knows from Beca’s blank look that she has shut down.

“Can you please untie her?” She asks the nurse, tears rising to her eyes. “It’s only making it worse. I promise she won’t hit herself while I’m here.”

“Ma’am…”

“I’m--I’m not a f-freak,” Beca’s voice trembles, barely audible.

The words break Chloe’s heart into a hundred little pieces. She hastily sits down on the edge of the bed before her legs give out on her, sliding her hand into Beca’s. “Of course not, my love. Nobody thinks that, I promise.”

“Chlo,” she croaks out, panicky eyes fleeting from Chloe to her hands. “I want out.”

Ignoring the nurse’s protests about calling security, Chloe quickly unfastens the soft restraints and climbs onto the bed, pulling Beca into her arms and brushing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re okay, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s a long while before Beca is able to talk. “Is Spence okay?”

“She’s fine, Aubrey’s with her.”

“I-I looked away for a s-second.”

“I know, babe. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

“O-okay. Can we go home?” She croaks out. “I just wanna go h-home.”

“Yeah, we can go home.”

Spencer conks out on the ride home. After putting her to bed for a pre-dinner nap, Chloe heads to the master bedroom to find Beca lying on her side with her back to the door. She crawls across the mattress and spoons her from behind, pressing a kiss to her covered shoulder.

“She’ll fall and hurt herself many more times, without it necessarily being our fault, babe,” she murmurs. “It’s what kids do, and you have nothing to blame yourself for.”

Beca sucks in a sharp breath. “When it happened-- I completely lost my footing. I panicked. Another mom had to call a cab for me b-because I-I couldn’t. Everyone was looking-- judging.”

“I’m so sorry,” Chloe whispers, squeezing Beca’s waist. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re an amazing mom and you do so much for Spencer, even things that are extremely difficult for you, like going to sensory overload places like the playground. I’m in awe of you every single day, Bec.”

The door creaks open before Beca can reply, and Chloe glances over her shoulder to see Spencer toddling in.

“Hey munchkin,” she greets softly, rolling onto her back as Spencer climbs onto the bed with some difficulty.

She’s sporting a large band aid across her forehead. “Mama okay?”

Beca smiles. “Mama’s fine, Peanut. C’mere.”

Spencer snuggles into her side, unknowingly stitching the cracks in Beca’s heart back up through her affection and unspoken love.

“We’ll be back at three, alright?” Beca says, smoothing her palms over the lapels of Spencer’s coat.

“Yes, Mama.”

Beca musters a smile, even though her heart feels extremely heavy this morning. It’s Spencer’s first day of school, which means she won’t be spending the day at home, and Beca is already experiencing separation anxiety.

She’s also scared Spencer might have a hard time at school, just like she did. The fear is most likely triggered by her own PTSD because there’s no reason her bright and socially able daughter doesn’t make friends.

“I gotta go,” the four-year-old announces, glancing over her shoulder as her classmates enter the building.

“I know, I know.” Beca swallows the lump in her throat and hugs Spencer tight. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” She hugs Chloe next, whispering the same before happily bouncing to the entrance.

“She’ll be fine,” Chloe murmurs, her hand sliding inside Beca’s as soon as she pushes to her feet.

“I know. I just--” Beca sighs. “I’m gonna miss her.”

“I know.” Chloe presses a kiss to her cheek. “Let’s go home. I’m sure I can come up with a few ways to distract you until three.”

Beca flushes hard at the innuendo, breaking eye-contact while Chloe simply cackles.

“What do you say, Spence?”

Sheepish blue eyes flick up to meet Chloe’s, before they move back to Andrew. “Thank you!” She pads to her pile of gifts and sets the newest wrapped present on the table, standing on the tip of her toes to reach.

“Wow, you and Beca sure know how to throw an awesome party,” Andrew’s mom comments with an impressed sort of nod as Spencer and her son hurry to meet the other kids inside the blow-up T-Rex taking a third of their backyard.

Spencer has been obsessed with dinosaurs for the past year, so it was only natural she’d want that theme for her birthday party. It became Beca’s near sole-focus for the last four months, as she wanted to make sure everything was perfect. To her credit, it really was.

“Yeah, my wife really outdid herself,” Chloe says with a smile, her eyes doing a quick sweep of the small crowd to track down Beca even though she knows Beca is probably in the backstage section of the event. “I’m going to see if she needs a hand. Help yourself to drinks and food, Caroline.”

Chloe heads back inside the house and rounds the corner to the kitchen to find Beca staring at the cake with a frown on her face.

“Everything okay, babe?”

“I forgot to buy candles,” Beca mutters.

“Oh, well I think we have some over here,” Chloe says, stepping further inside the kitchen and standing on the tip of her toes to reach the top cupboard. “Ah-ha, here you go.”

Beca wrinkles her nose as she takes them, then shakes her head faintly, and it’s like Chloe can read her thoughts. There’s something that doesn’t sit right with those specific ones, but Beca will use them anyway because she feels ridiculous about being so picky.

After eleven years together, Chloe knows what can trigger Beca’s Aspie side, and one look at the cake tells her what’s wrong.

“Aubrey isn’t here yet, I’ll tell her to stop on the way to buy green candles, ‘K?”

Green so they can match the dinosaur on the cake and not pink like the only ones they have.

“N-no, it’s not--it’s not--” Beca lets out a frustrated sigh, her nails digging into her palms. It seems to take a lot of internal debating until she can finally utter out, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Neither is Aubrey stopping on the way to buy candles, I promise,” Chloe assures Beca, stepping closer to rest a hand on her lower back. Chloe’s touch has always been one of the things that ground Beca, and her shoulders slump as she puffs out a breath.

“Okay. Thank you.”

Chloe smiles. “Spence is having so much fun. You really threw an amazing party.” She leans in to kiss Beca’s cheek, rubbing her back. “Wanna join us outside?”

She feels Beca’s muscles tense under her palm as Beca purses her lips, eyes flicking towards the window. No matter how much social progress she’s made since Chloe walked into her life, she’s still shy around near-strangers and sensory sensitive. A bunch of loud and hyperactive children can be a meltdown trigger. “Um, maybe in a little bit.”

“Okay. No pressure.”

Beca only comes outside when it’s time for the cake, retreating inside after Spencer blows her candles. Chloe didn’t think until now that Spencer really notices Beca doesn’t act like her friends’ parents, but she’s proven wrong later that day as she helps her daughter carry her presents to her bedroom.

“Mommy, why is Mama different?”

Chloe pauses, setting the pile of boxes on the floor and joining Spencer at the foot of the bed.

“Mama has something called autism, baby. It means that her brain interprets things differently than you and it can make it hard for her to talk, listen, understand, play, and learn. That’s why she’s sometimes in her own world, or why she doesn’t like to interact with people.”

“Oh,” Spencer lets out, clearly mulling it over. She eventually looks to Chloe and asks, “Is it dangerous? Like cancer?”

“No, absolutely not. Mama is very healthy.”

Spencer’s shoulders slump, and she musters a smile, nodding. “Okay.”

Smiling as well, Chloe pushes Spencer’s hair back from her forehead. “She loves you so much, sweetheart.”

“I know. I don’t care that she’s different, I was just wondering why.”

After tucking her daughter in, Chloe pads downstairs and into the living-room, where Beca is reading on the couch. She hums when Chloe curls up into her side, freeing her arm to wrap it around Chloe’s back. “All good?”

“Mhm, yeah. She had fun today. You threw an amazing party.” Chloe lifts her head from Beca’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Beca nods. “Sorry I didn’t socialize much, I-- It was a lot.”

“That’s okay. There’s nothing to apologize for.” She nuzzles Beca’s cheek. “You know I don’t mind entertaining people.”

Beca chuckles. “Oh, I know. Sometimes I wonder how someone as talkative as you fell for a girl who could barely put a sentence together.”

“Opposites attract, I guess?”

Beca simply hums, feathering the tips of her fingers up and down Chloe’s arm. Chloe decides to keep Spencer’s question for herself, knowing Beca might feel self-conscious about their daughter noticing her unusual personality.

Beca is the one to break the silence. “Do you ever think about having another kid?”

Her question makes Chloe’s thud harder, and she lifts her head from Beca’s shoulder to look at her. “Do you?”

Beca snickers. “I asked first.”

“Yeah, I do,” Chloe replies with a smile. “I’ve actually been experiencing quite the baby fever ever since Samuel was born.” Her godson, Aubrey’s four months old baby boy. “We still have three vials from Spencer’s sperm donor.”

Beca looks at her with sparkling eyes. “Are you okay with carrying again?”

“I am, but are you sure you don’t want to?” She knows Beca is sceptical, concerned about giving their baby autism even though Chloe has assured her many times it wouldn’t be a problem if that were the case.

“Yes. I’ve given it some thought and-- I just don’t see myself being pregnant.”

“Okay,” Chloe agrees quietly, reaching up to cradle Beca’s cheek. She kisses her softly, grinning. “I’m really excited.”

“Me, too.”

Chloe’s been acting weird ever since they left Beca’s work Christmas party.

She doesn’t say anything on the cab ride back, and heads directly to their bedroom when they reach home. Beca pays the sitter and goes to check on Spencer to make sure she’s still asleep.

“Chlo?” She calls out softly as she lingers in the bedroom doorway, watching for a moment as Chloe takes off her earrings and her watch. Her confusion only enhances when Chloe doesn’t answer, triggering a wave of anxiety. She’s never been good at picking up on other people’s emotions, but after living over a decade with Chloe, she can tell when something is off. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Chloe mutters. She reaches behind her to undo her zipper, but can’t quite reach. “Can you give me a hand?”

Beca crosses the room to step behind her, dragging the zipper down. She searches Chloe’s eyes in the mirror, bracing her hands over Chloe’s upper arms. “Talk to me? Please?”

“She likes you,” Chloe eventually provides, turning around and sitting on the edge of her vanity. “It’s pretty obvious to anyone watching.”

“W-who does?”

“Amanda,” Chloe says. Beca’s new assistant at the label. “She was flirting with you all night.”

“I…” Beca’s eyebrows knit together as she thinks back to the party. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, yeah.” She sighs, her eyes softening as she slides her hands into Beca’s. “And I don’t want to be jealous, because I know you’re just oblivious when it comes to that sort of stuff, but it’s not… exactly easy to watch someone so attractive flirt so openly with your wife.”

Guilt coils in Beca’s belly. “I’m sorry, I-I had no idea.”

“I know that, and I don’t want you to beat yourself up for it, alright? I’m sorry I gave you the cold shoulder instead of telling you right away. I think my pregnancy hormones are just making me more possessive than usual.” She scrunches up her nose. “I was ready to pounce on the woman.”

Beca giggles at the imagery, leaning forward and burying her face into Chloe’s neck. Her arms wrap loosely around her wife’s waist as she remains close for a few beats, basking in her proximity.

“I’ll talk to her,” she murmurs. “Let her know I’m definitely not interested.”

“Are you sure you’re comfortable to do that?”

Beca lifts her head, grimacing. “Can’t I write her a card?”

Chloe’s laughter chases away that guilt and Beca finally relaxes. “Sure.”

Beca’s hand curves around the gentle swell of Chloe’s belly. “You said Amanda was attractive but I frankly have no clue what she was even wearing because I was too obsessed with how beautiful you looked tonight. I honestly don’t even remember what she and I talked about.” She kisses Chloe gently, resting her forehead against hers. “I love you. Every time I think about you throughout the day, which happens a lot by the way, I feel like I need to pinch myself. Sometimes I think about seventeen-year-old me watching people date in high-school and feeling sad that she’d never get to know that. I wish I could go back to tell her that it’s all going to be okay, that somewhere down the line, she’ll meet this incredible human being who won’t make fun of her for not being able to talk, someone who will be amazingly patient and understanding with her aspie side and who will love her with her whole heart.”

Beca sometimes has trouble finding the right words, but not tonight. They just pour out of her heart, like they often do when it comes to Chloe.

“Bec,” Chloe croaks out, reaching up to cradle her jaw. Her eyes are misty with unshed tears and she puffs out a breath. “You suck for making me cry.”

Beca laughs, pressing a few kisses to Chloe’s exposed collarbone as she hugs her. “Let’s go to bed, wife.”

Chloe is completely and utterly exhausted, but the happiness radiating through her whole body makes it totally worth it.

She glances down to Elliot, rubbing her palm over his stomach. “Are you ready to meet your big sister?”

The door opens a couple minutes later, Beca walking in with Spencer. The six-year-old gasps softly, her eyes alight with wonder as Beca picks her up so she can take her first look at her baby brother.

“He’s got the same hair as me,” she observes with a smile. Chocolate hair, like Beca. Spencer had Chloe’s eyes, and Chloe was looking forward to finding out which shade their little boy would end up sporting. “He’s so little, Mommy.”

“He is,” Chloe murmurs. “Do you wanna hold him?” Spencer’s head bobs up and down in an excited nod. “Alright, go sit in the chair over there.”

Beca sets her down and grabs the nursing pillow off the foot of Chloe’s bed, setting it on Spencer’s lap once she’s all settled. She carefully plucks the newborn from Chloe’s arms and sets him down on the pillow, crouching in front of the chair as she keeps her hand under his head to support it. “What do you think, Spence?”

“He’s so cute,” Spencer gushes, her reaction bringing fresh tears to Chloe’s eyes. She grabs her phone off the table and snaps a few pictures of her family, smiling widely. “When’s he coming home?”

“In a couple days,” Beca says. “We might need your help to read him stories or sing him to sleep.”

Spencer nods dutifully. “K.”

Compared to Spencer, Elliot is a heavy sleeper so far, which is pretty great because Chloe feels like she could sleep for days. She wakes up bleary eyed one afternoon after a nap, her son or wife nowhere in sight.

Following the soft voices and coos carrying from the living room, Chloe ventures down the hall, stopping in the doorway as a soft smile slips on her lips.

Elliot is chilling on his playmat while Beca and Spencer color on the floor next to him, oblivious to Chloe’s presence.

Chloe observes them for a moment, her heart fit to burst as she realizes how perfect her little family is, and how far Beca has come.

#bechloe #bechloe fic #beca mitchell #chloe beale

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moving-like-a-flowing-wind · 2 years

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The Day6 members I relate to

So this one was written two years ago, thats why a bit of the information about me are outdated. I'll note down at the places where it is outdated. However among all the Day6 members these two had been always the most relatable ones to me.

Introduction

So I had been planning to write this for a long time but because I have pretty much lost my motivation to post blogs for no reason even when I am having lots of post ideas and also because I was confused about which Day6 member I must choose for this blog.

I realized that it's either my bias Wonpil or our sweet but awkward drummer Dowoon. One of the reasons I fell in love with Wonpil is because I somewhat felt that he is a relatable guy for me but then I think that Dowoon is more relatable maybe it's because I find both of them similar to each other when it comes to their personalities or maybe it's just me.

Kim Wonpil

Emotionally sensitive

Wonpil is relatively softer than most other so called sunshine K-pop idols, he tends to feel emotions very deeply which somewhat makes him prone to crying. I consider myself really emotionally sensitive and when it comes to sad music both of us end up feeling deeply. Until now (because I got used to those songs) I literally had to drink water to control my tears whenever I had to listen to some sad songs, which also includes many Day6 songs such as I Need Somebody, You were Beautiful. Speaking of Wonpil, he sings with lot of emotions in these songs (especially when he gets chorus lines) which somewhat makes those songs tear-jerking.

Physical show of affection

As far as I know Wonpil, he likes being physically affectionate towards his bandmates (if anyone remembers that video where he shyly asks if he can hug one of them). Although many people doesn't know about it, I really like it when I am hugged by someone, of course I should be familiar with that person. I have daily cuddling sessions with my currently 7 year old little brother because he is really cute, also whenever I see Wonpil doing aegyo I feel the need to cuddle someone.

Forgetful

Wonpil is notoriously known for his forgetfulness and he often forgets his lyrics. My memory skills are no worse than an old woman and if I were a band member I probably would have ended up like Wonpil, even on national TV too. I often get Deja Vu as well, like there have been many a time when my mom was like "You told me to make this food" and I am like "When did I", so seeing Wonpil forget lyrics makes me want to laugh at myself.

Secret, sassy side

Despite Wonpil's 'soft personality ' he actually has a sassy side, as many of us know that how often he ends up having conflicts with Jaehyung. I am pretty passive when I am outside, but I often fight like a typical teenager with my mom. I also often fight with my brother because he always comes to take my phone to play games, watch stupid YouTube videos and finishing off my daily data pack within two hours.

Getting excited over small things

In one of the Vlives, Wonpil once told that little things tend to make him happy, while I won't call myself an optimistic person but, some so called little things, makes me happy, like finding someone who shares the same interests as me in an annoying social event, like another fellow K-pop fan. Although this might not mean much to others as K-pop is somewhat popular in my country, but it means a lot for me since I actually have hard time making friends and I can use this to engage in a conversation and look "sociable". If they are young, new fans, I feel happy to guide them into the fandom and teach them some basic do's and don'ts in order to not let them become toxic.

Another 'small thing' I really like is having something photogenic thing near me or a photogenic location, it is not always necessary that the location must be somewhere very far from my house, or something expensive but it must look beautiful to my eyes, and/or evoke certain unspoken feeling in me. I am really into photography (I am an amateur one though) and I am really passionate about it, I work hard to maintain my photography/drawing instagram account so it means a lot to me

Yoon Dowoon

Awkward and goofy

Dowoon is well known to be a shy boy and, this goes for me too, it takes a while for me to open up, because of my shyness I have hard time making friends, I also feel shy in group chats because of which I can't stay there for a longer time. It's also said that when Dowoon breaks his ice, he shows his goofy side and is rather talkative. This goes for me too, I am goofy when I break my ice and both of us love craking weird jokes,

Also I find my awkwardness weird, I might be talkative to someone if I happen to meet her/him in the same spot on a regular basis, but I will end up being awkward if I meet that person unexpectedly somewhere else.

Supportive

In the Glamour Friendship test one of the members told that Dowoon is the type of maknae who goes around supporting others and cheer them up when they are sad. While I might not be the most supportive person , I try my best to be one. Most of my friends suffer from mental health issues like depression and anxiety so I always think I must be for them to listen to them, and that's why I try my best, also being supportive for them makes me happy as well. Also I often aim to become a therapist so being a supportive person matters a lot to me.

(Fast forward to 2022- I did not choose the path of being a therapist because I dont deem myself fit for it but....I still like helping people sometimes)

Animal lover

We all know how much Dowoon loves his pets, although I currently don't own a pet but I do love animals, I love feeding street dogs and I often end up befriending them, though there are times when it becomes difficult to feed them like when they come to me with their mate for food or sometimes with their pack. It also becomes difficult when I have no money and they stare at me with innocent puppy eyes.

(Fast forward to 2022- because I moved places and also because of covid, sadly I barely get anyone to feed)

Similar tastes

Like majority of the Day6 members (except Jae) Dowoon prefers tall girls. He also prefers girls with beautiful smile. While height is not something I am concerned about, I do end up falling for men with beautiful smiles. Many of my biases such as SHINee's Onew, Bigbang's Daesung and our very own Wonpil are well known among K-pop fans for having contagious smiles, even Dowoon has got a cute smile as well, I can't deny that.

Child-like nature

Dowoon is also known for his childlike nature and fans often say that his actions doesn't make him look like a 25 year old. I will turn eighteen next month but I often wonder if I really have anything like a 17-18 year old, I still have some child like habits, I sometimes chase goats, play childish games with my brother, buy cute stationery stuff (like a pikachu shaped pencil sharpner) and if possible do childish hairstyles like I had cut bangs in the January of this year and I often used to tie my hair in two high buns during summer. I also enjoy watching cartoons like Doraemon which is basically made for kids (I know it's an anime not a cartoon).

(Fast forward to 2022- Currently I'm 20 and Dowoon is 26 and I dont do much of the things mentioned above but, I still have a childish side to me....I do enjoy watching cartoons from time to time and I like plushies. Being a 'Kawaii enthusiast' I love the idea of embracing one's inner child)

#day6 #wonpil #dowoon #kim wonpil #yoon dowoon #our dowoonie #wonpil day6 #dirori gets personal

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you-can-call-me-wanda · 4 years

Text

Oblivious

Pairing: Nasty Suicide x Reader (Requested)

Author’s Note: I kinda really like this one so I hope you do too!

Nasty stood in front of the dingy mirror in the backstage dressing room, running his fingers through is somewhat dirty locks of hair. Hanoi Rocks was set to take the stage in about a half an hour, so he and the rest of the band were currently preening and prepping for the show.

Andy and Michael were the only other two in the dressing room with Nasty. They too were busy adjusting scarves and jewelry and teasing their hair.

“Hey Nasse,” Andy called from across the tiny room, not bothering to turn his gaze away from his own reflection, “Did you hear (Y/N)’s coming tonight?”

Nasty dropped his hands from his head and turned to face Andy’s form. He frowned and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“No, why?” he asked.

Andy and Michael both looked away from what they were doing to share a smirk with the other. Nasty got the feeling they were up to something and did not like it one bit.

“What?” he pressed, now that both the other men were fully facing him with their stupid little smiles. “What is it?”

“Oh nothing,” Andy said, feigning innocence. “I just thought you’d like to know.” With that, he turned back to the mirror and began messing with the buttons of his blouse.

Now Nasty was even more confused. He turned to Michael who always seemed more reasonable than Andy in these types of situations.

“Mike,” Nasty practically whined, “why is it so important that (Y/N)’s coming to our show?”

Michael must have felt some pity for the boy because he did supply a little bit more of an answer to his question than Andy had.

“It’s really not that important,” Mike said with a sympathetic smile. “We just thought maybe you’d want to know.”

“But why?” Nasty asked again, beginning to grow frustrated with all the secretive looks his mates were sharing and their avoidance of answering the question. “Just tell me,” he demanded, crossing his arms and setting his friends with a firm look.

“Oh my god,” Andy groaned. “It’s like everyone knows but you. I swear you and (Y/N) are the two most oblivious people I know.”

Nasty opened his mouth to ask even more questions, but Michael beat him to speaking.

“Look Nasty, we love you man, but are you really that daft? You and (Y/N) totally have the hots for each other,” Mike said whilst fixing Nasty with an exasperated look and turned away from his friend to reapply his lipstick.

Nasty, meanwhile, was having a mini aneurism. Him and (Y/N)? What? No, they were just friends. It wasn’t like that. Or was it? Suddenly, he was thinking back to all the times you and he had spent together. All those nights when you had come back to the house after a gig and stayed up with him and the guys all night. Those times where the two of you had gotten bored after everyone had gone to sleep or passed out and had gone out and rode the underground for hours, just talking and laughing. You hadn’t needed anything more than each other’s company. He thought back to the nights where the two of you got completely shit-faced after a night at the pub and danced and sang at the top of your lungs in the London streets until the neighbors threatened to call the cops. He remembered the night you came to him crying after your landlord had kicked you out. How he’d let you spend the night in his room with him. He remembered thinking how beautiful you looked, even when you were sleeping and hogging all the covers. He thought about all the hugs you had shared, all the smiles you had gifted him, and all the corny jokes you’d made him laugh with.

Oh shit. He was in love with you.

“Oh shit.”

Michael and Andy both broke out into cackling laughter at Nasty’s expense. The poor boy looked like he had come to the biggest realization of his life.

“You really didn’t know?” Andy asked through fits of laughter. “Everyone else did.”

If it was possible, Nasty’s eyes grew even wider. “What do you mean everyone else did? Does (Y/N) know?” he asked, panicking at the idea of you having realized he had feelings for you before even he did.

“Well,” Michael said, “everyone but (Y/N) knows.”

Nasty let out a small sigh of relief. Nervously, he reached up to tug at his hair. “What do I do now?” he asked his friends. “Should I say something? What if (Y/N) doesn’t like me back?” He was now stressing over how he was going to keep his cool when he saw you tonight.

Andy barked out another laugh and clapped Nasty on the shoulder. “Relax mate, (Y/N) likes you too.”

“They do?”

“Oh my god, that’s what we’ve been trying to tell you,” Michael said, resisting the urge to facepalm. “I think the two of you should talk after the show, get this all sorted out, because if this nonsense keeps going on for any much longer the rest of us are going to lose are minds.”

“Nonsense?” Nasty asked, but at this point in the conversation his mind was focused on a million different things. He liked (Y/N). (Y/N) liked him. Everyone knew. It was a lot for him to process in less than ten minutes.

“You two keep dancing around each other and the way you feel and it’s making me sick,” Andy responded. “So we’re gonna go play our show and afterwards when you see (Y/N), you are confessing your feelings,” Andy said. Nasty almost felt like he was being scolded.

“But-”

“Or I’m telling (Y/N) how you feel,” Andy threatened. “Now let’s go. It’s almost time for us to take the stage.”

The show went by in a haze for Nasty. He played fine, but his mind was entirely elsewhere. How was he supposed to confess his feelings for you, especially when he just realized them himself? He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he barely recognized that their set had ended. It wasn’t until Sami began nudging him offstage did he realize it was over.

He knew you would be backstage waiting for him and the rest of the band. You always were when you attended one of their gigs. The six of you would leave the venue shortly after and typically hit up a pub or two afterwards.

Nasty made a beeline for the dressing room the second he stepped foot off the stage. He didn’t lift his head up and look around for you. No, he was too terrified that he’d catch your eye and have to go over and talk to you. He wasn’t ready! All that time spent thinking on stage and he still had no idea how to tell you how he felt.

Looking in the mirror, he tried to hype himself up.

It’s just (Y/N). You’ve been friends for years. You can do this.

Nasty decided to change clothes before he went to speak with you. Not only because the hot lights of the stage had made him all sweaty and uncomfortable, but because he wanted to look a little more presentable for when he saw you.

He always brought a spare shirt with him to gigs since he normally sweated through his stage clothes. It wasn’t anything fancy, just some random t shirt thrown into his bag. Now, he was wishing he had thought out what he had brought a little more carefully. There was nothing inherently wrong with the spare shirt he had brought, it just didn’t do him any favors. What was once a plain black t shirt was now a thin, faded grey shirt with various stains of unknown origin on it. Not to mention, it was a size or two too small for him.

Not really having any other choice, he threw the shirt on and examined his reflection in the mirror. He looked like he normally would when he saw you, a little sweaty, hair all tangled up, mismatched clothes and accessories thrown on. How could Andy possibly think that you would like him back? You always looked so good, so effortlessly cool and he, well he looked like a sewer rat.

A knock at the door jolted him out of his pity party.

“Come in!” he called out, assuming it was just one of his bandmates checking to make sure he wasn’t naked before barging in.

To his surprise though, it was you who opened the door to the dressing room. At the sight of your face, Nasty swallowed thickly with nerves.

“Hey,” you greeted, smiling easily, “Andy told me I could find you in here.”

“Oh,” Nasty said, trying to muster up any coherent sentence to say to you. “Oh,” he said again. He cursed himself internally for not being able to come up with anything smooth or witty.

You didn’t seem to take any notice though. Instead, you hopped up onto the table sitting in the corner of the room and took a seat.

“Andy said you wanted to talk to me,” you said, tilting your head to the side and examining the man in front of you. Nasty seemed on edge, which was unusual for him. He was normally so carefree, the life of the party. He had even appeared to be a little nervous on stage too.

“He did?” Nasty asked, not meeting your eyes. His gaze focused on your feet instead, swinging back and forth as they hung off the edge of the table.

“Yeah,” you answered, perplexed by his shy behavior. “Is something wrong? You seem off,” you pointed out.

Finally, he lifted his head to meet your worried eyes. “Um, yeah, everything’s fine,” he stammered. “I just, um, well.”

“Just what?” you urged gently. Whatever it was that was bothering your friend, you wanted to be there to help him out with it.

Nasty cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “(Y/N), I um, well, I really like you. You’re one of my best friends.”

“I really like you too dumbass,” you said with a chuckle. “That’s what you had to tell me?”

In this moment, Nasty knew he had two options. He could agree with you, laugh it off, and pretend he had nothing more to say. He could do that, or he could continue. He could tell you how he really felt. He could take the risk of losing you or making things awkward by confessing his love. He thought back to Michael assuring him that you felt the same way and Andy threatening to tell you the truth if Nasty wouldn’t. He decided to take the risk.

“Well no. That’s not all,” he said.

Nasty’s voice got all quiet and serious. You had never really seen him like this before. You straightened your back and strained to listen to what he had to say.

“I don’t know how I didn’t realize it before. I guess I just never took a step back and looked at things,” he said, biting his lip. “I guess it’s been fairly obvious to other people though,” he said, huffing out a small laugh. “I think I’m in love with you (Y/N). I want to be more than just best friends with you.”

It was silent after his confession. All you could do was stare at him. His words were still ringing in your head. Nasty loved you? Nasty wanted to be more than just friends?

Nasty took your surprised expression as a bad sign. Clearly, you hadn’t seen this coming and were trying to process what he had just revealed to you. Clearly, you didn’t feel the same.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. He swallowed the lump forming in the back of his throat and continued to apologize. “I shouldn’t have said anything at all. I’m so sorry (Y/N). Andy and Mike, they tried to tell me it was a good idea to let you know, but I shouldn’t have listened to them. God, I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”

His apologies shook you out of your state of shock. You hurriedly hopped off the table you were sitting on and rushed to the rambling boy who was now looking very distraught.

“No, no, Nasty, don’t apologize!” you said, grabbing onto his upper arms. “It’s okay, nothing’s ruined.”

“How is it not ruined?” Nasty said in a much louder voice now. He was obviously getting very worked up and upset. “How can we go back to being friends after what I just said?”

You soothingly ran your hands up and down his arms, trying to calm him. “I thought you said you wanted to be more than just friends?” you asked lightly, giving his biceps a gentle squeeze.

“What?”

“I thought you wanted to be more than friends. So why does it matter if things can’t go back to the way they were before?”

Nasty looked deep into your eyes, searching for any form of deception. “What are you trying to say?” he asked.

“I’m trying to say that I think I love you too,” you said, moving your hands up to caress along his jawline. “I’m trying to say that I feel the same way.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” you mocked.

“So, it would be okay if I kissed you?” he asked, looking down longingly at your lips.

“Please.”

#nasty suicide #nasty x reader #nasty suicide x reader #nasty suicide imagine #hanoi rocks #hanoi rocks x reader #hanoi rocks imagine #wanda writes

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writerfangirlbooks · 4 years

Text

Bobby’s Daughter Part 1

Dean x Y/N

Prompt: Imagine flirting with Dean Winchester before he finds out you're Bobby's daughter.

A/N: I know Bobby never had children, but let's imagine for now. I've got a cool idea, for the most part, to go with this prompt. As always, feel free to request any ideas you would like me to write! I've had quite a few Dean ones recently and even more coming up soon. Thanks for sticking with me. Also, I just can't write a story without a backstory, I just need it desperately haha, so enjoy this midnight mess. And uhh, this one gets a little steamier than the others, just a heads up. Also this one is getting multiple parts! Word Count: 1800

Credit to gif owner!

It took you long enough to convince your dad to so much as let you hunt by yourself.

You heard the story of your mom once, and only once. Your dad hated discussing what happened to her. It broke his heart, losing the love of his life. Bobby often declared he didn't know what he would do without you, that you being born was a blessing and miracle tied into one burst of joy in this miserable man's life. That was quite a bit to live up to. Fortunately, you weren't stuck with him all of the time. Once he stopped homeschooling you, you were able to have real interactions and get to know the real world.

Every once and a while, a friend of your father would drop his sons off at the doorsteps to watch for endless amounts of time. Sure, the boys were a couple of years younger, but at least they never said you had cooties. They were excited to be with Uncle Bobby, though they weren't related. It occasionally made you doubt your place in his heart, wondering if he wished you had been born a son instead. However, it was nice to not be made fun of not having a mom and having a drunkard for a father. You saw the brothers young and at one point, hadn't seen them since. It wasn't uncommon for traveling hunters to occasionally leave their children for a weekend or two, so you didn't easily remember all of their names.

Growing up a female was tricky in small-town Iowa, even more so as a hunter. Your father spent some time away hunting when things began to go awry in nearby towns. You started public middle school around age eleven, but your father feared you were simply too young to spend nights by yourself, and you didn't exactly have a bunch of friends to spend the nights at. That ended up causing extra frustration and stress on his plate before you suggested an idea you watched on television: private school.

In a way, Bobby was a better father after you went away. You became more outgoing, learned what it meant to be a lady, and more importantly, how to use that to your advantage. You were encouraged to learn other languages, try extracurriculars. So you did, studying Spanish and French for the rest of your education. You joined the photography club, acted in theatre, and played soccer. You went home on holiday breaks, summer being your favorite as it meant spending more time with your dad. He did his best to be home as often as possible. You got excited to fix cars if it meant spending time with him. Despite his protests, you felt encouraged to hunt, so he gave you pointers. It was years before around age sixteen, he finally allowed your first solo hunt. It was thrilling and unsurprisingly, it went great. He preferred playing board games and watching television with you, making him overall pretty chill.

The one thing he was not a cool dad came to your dating life. You tried getting a boyfriend young and Bobby insisted on meeting him before your first dance. Let's just say the two of you didn't leave together by the end of the night. He was more lenient toward regular, mediocre guys. His one rule was the most adamant: don't date hunters. Fortunately enough for you, most hunters were around your dad's age, so, very much not your type.

That could lead to some very lonely tonights as you became an adult, leading to one night stands in apartments. Of course, you skipped past the whole college scene. Far too expensive and not something you seemed interested in, anyway. Despite your father's protests, you decided to spend time traveling rather than staying with him. You had gotten used to your independence and was somehow nearing thirty way too quickly. You considered yourself content in life. You were a darn good hunter, a woman that could hold her alcohol, and a successful freelance photographer. You weren't sure where your dad's income came from and you decided it best not to ask, sticking to making an honest living while hunting as often as possible.

It was late summer and Bobby's birthday was coming up soon. Although he hated celebrating, you made sure to be around during this time. It just so happened to coincide with a case you were tracking. You figured you would surprise him tomorrow evening and make his favorite dinner. For now, though, you rented a small apartment half an hour away. You felt motels were dirty and a bit pathetic. You did have some class, after all.

Tonight you were looking for a good time, clothed in one of your favorite dresses, with matching heels and handbag. You headed to the bar, pulled up a chair, and ordered your favorite margarita. Soon enough, a man's build and shadow blocked your view of the door. He cleared his throat and you turned your head, taking in the view of messy brown hair and mischievous green eyes attached to a face full of sun-kissed freckles. The man wore nothing special, just regular jeans and a plaid shirt layered with a hunter-green jacket. It was a look that fits well in Iowa, but his voice showed quickly he was not raised here.

"Not a beer girl, huh?" He asked, raising an eyebrow towards your bright colored drink. You did a quick assessment and deemed this man as not a threat. He could be just what you were looking for. As you began to speak, you watched his attentive gaze dip from your eyes to your lips then back again.

"Not quite my style. I like something a little sweeter," you said with a small smile. Leaning back in your chair, you aimlessly twirled the straw around in your drink as you looked back up to the handsome stranger.

He draped an arm around your chair, his fingers lightly brushing your shoulders in the process. "Then feel free to call me sugar, sweetheart," he said. His eyes crinkled with the flirty grin. You wanted to laugh at what a bad line it was but figured his looks could make up for a lacking game. You bit back your smile by licking your lips and tacking a long sip of your drink.

"Well, I don't know about that, but you can call me Y/N," you offered.

The conversation quickly led into basic first date questions, leading you and the man who later introduced himself as Dean to realize you had quite a few similarities, such as bands, landmarks, and even pies. Neither of you was able to persuade the other to change interest in alcohol. Once you got to the topic of cars, you had lost track of time. Dean claimed to have an older Impala and was eager to show you. You were used to the ploys of cool cars to get a woman outside, but you weren't objecting to where the night was headed. You were left intrigued and somewhat shocked that someone this good looking was actually telling the truth about having such a well kept and beautiful vehicle. You were hoping to get the chance to impress him with your own knowledge about cars at some point if things actually made it past three am leavings, which was typically not likely.

When Dean proposed the invitation, he noticed your response was less than immediate. You didn't mean to hesitate but was trying to work out to tell him how you did not feel comfortable leaving your own car in the bar parking lot. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly. It typically wouldn't have been that noticeable except behavior change was something you studied in school when taught how to create poses for your photos. His green eyes were bright and eager, reflecting from the yellow lights outside of the bar.

"I, uh, if you're not interested... we don't have to..." Dean began stuttering, changing pace. He must not be used to rejection, you decided. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

You took one of Dean's hands, finding the new change endearing. Although it could've been funny to turn down someone that seemed like a player and innate flirter, that was not your plan for tonight. "Dean, I'm fine. I just don't like to leave my car, so if you want to follow, or go with me, back to my place?" You offered. You tilted your head, waiting for an answer.

He nodded. His grin had returned widely and he used his other hand to indicate for me to lead the way. And off Dean and you went. The two of you stumbled into your apartment in half the time it should have taken you to get back. Dean's chatter filled your ears up until you unlocked the door to your room.

Your keys were tossed onto the television stand while shoes were being kicked off against the closet door. Heat filled the room as your bodies filled the bed, disregarding your clothes and newness to one another. You felt much more connected as Dean kissed you, a sense of familiarity in his warmth and scent. It began with an intense and heavy makeout before his lips left yours, and began to trail down your neck, continuing further as time ticked away. The clock on the wall was the only sound you could hear besides your ragged breathing and the squeaks of the bed. The sheets were too weak for your grip, so you moved your nails into his back. You could feel his smiles trace your skin. You couldn't help but shudder when Dean whispered into your ear. It was a beautifully messy sight, watching Dean and you move as one, clinging to one another. Your eyelids fluttered, unsure of where to focus as the sensations grew stronger. Arching your head back to allow more room elsewhere, you thought you had lost your voice before one simple movement reminded you how to speak, urging you to call out Dean's name.

The night carried on for much longer.

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Tags: @akshi8278

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #spn imagine #SPN #spn fic #spn fanfiction #spnfandom #dean winchester #dean #flirting with disaster #flirting with dean #the winchesters #winchesters #winchester boys #bobby singer #dean x y/n #dean x reader

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kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 4 years

Text

genre: college au, teacher/student, dance instructor!hoseok, dance student! y/n, fluff

warning(s)!!!: college stress (duh), y/n waited a couple years after high school before college for fiances, it’s not a college au unless someone works at a coffee shop lol, flirty hoseok, y/n might be a bit ditzy but in a cute way, y/n is also scared of storms

w.count: 5.4k

summary: moving to Seoul, South Korea had been a dream of yours and when you found out that you got accept at one of the best universities, you couldn’t have been happier! That is until you met your dance teacher. He was handsome, but strict and he made you fall for him hard. You never thought he would feel the same until you got locked up one rainy night.

Series | One-shot | Two-shot | Drabble | [Rated: PG-13]

a/n: this is my contribution to BangtanIDX Prompt Twist! I got @pjmsgalaxy prompt, so I hope she (and everyone else) enjoys it! Gotta be honest, I’m not sure if I’ve ever written a teacher/student fic and i don’t read much of them dafdlskf, there’s a first time for everything LMAO I hope I did alright asdlfjakj (I also very very sloppily proof read this, or i proofread half of it then got lazy uhoh)

“Where did I-” you muttered to yourself as you dug through the fourth box in your newly moved into studio apartment. You were a reigning champ of procrastination and now you were looking for your gym duffel to place all your dance equipment in.

Not finding it in lucky box number four, you sighed and continued your quest to find the hideously amazing holographic duffel your mother had bought for you just before your move to Seoul. “There you are!” You exclaimed as you saw a small patch of shining, colorful silver before you grabbed it and yanked it out. Small trinkets and pens flew from the box in its rupture out of the cardboard prison.

It had been just two days since you had signed a lease for this single, tiny, cramped apartment in Seoul. But, it was your best choice of living because who would’ve thought that Seoul’s living expenses were through the roof. It would do, however; since you were finally getting ready to enroll in Hanyang University in their department of dance. Part of your subconscious wasn’t able to comprehend the fact that you managed to get into a private university in Seoul, but nonetheless there you were.

You sat on your floor, boxes all around you with your holographic duffel with rainbow striped straps on your lap. You sighed as you felt a small flutter of nerves in your chest.

This was what you have wanted since you realized how much you loved dancing. Graduating, majoring in dance, going to a prestigious school. It was all so much more dazzling than you thought it’d be. Of course, you had to take a couple years off of high school to save up enough money to even begin thinking about college tuition, but now here you were. Two years of hard work finally paid off as you were enrolling into education once more.

“Oh shoot,” you hissed as you placed the duffel aside and made for other boxes. “I need to find my alarm clock. I know I just saw it,” you muttered more as you began to once again dig around. Unpacking fully would need to wait- it was already 7 in the evening. Unpacking your new home would be a tomorrow job and future you’s problem.

It was bright and early the next day as you dragged yourself out of your messy, box filled apartment with a bag of books and folders and your duffel packed full with a water bottle, proper shoes and a change of clothes. Along with your typical dance classes of ballet and choreography (or also called composition) courses, you would be taking your standard classes as well. Dance history and theory for example. Those were more sit down and take notes classes, so your standard textbook and spiral notebook were absolutely a must.

Dressed with your jeans rolled to your calf and your shirt untucked, you walked to sit patiently at the public bus stop just in time to catch the 8 o’clock morning rounds. Getting off with a handful of other college students, you almost halted at the university gates. Those nerves thumping in your chest again before you pulled yourself together and finally took those first steps as a twenty-year-old college student.

You entered the spacious dance studio your choreography class was held in as you gulped. You had just changed into your leggings and sweater with your less than brilliant shoes with just enough grip left on the soles not to slide around.

You ducked your head instinctively as you trotted to the back of the room. The mirrors across the studio tracked your every tiptoed step as some students were stretching. Some were doing warm ups, some doing small numbers of footwork, others just standing talking or keeping to themselves until the instructor came. You were of the latter group. Taking refuge up in a corner as you sat your duffel (that happened to stand out way too much among the others) behind you and took a seat.

As you sat, you opened your legs in front of you and did small stretches just to occupy yourself until the class began. The lump in your throat made it damn near impossible to even try and talk to someone else even though you knew you’d be working and dancing with these people through your major years.

As you were stretching forward to grab around your foot and feel the comfortable pull in your legs, you silently hoped that the instructor you ended up with wouldn’t be a complete nightmare. You’ve seen and read one too many dramatic stories that involve over the top teachers who have the ‘perfect or failing’ mentality. Of course, you knew that it was all for show and production in your books or on your television screen- but nonetheless, it was stressful to think about.

You yelped when someone tapped your shoulder, getting your attention as you were previously too lost in thought about an over dramatic, middle-age crone with a permanent frown as your teacher- may as well imagine Lady Tremaine as the instructor of your nightmares.

When you turned, ready to apologize you nervously chuckled as you saw the handsome red haired man sat beside you with a Puma bag beside him. Wearing gym shorts and a jacket matching his duffel with worn out shoes, he pushed his hair out of the way of his sweat band around his head. He smiled, waving at you.

“First year, huh?” He asked gleefully as you just nodded before clearing your throat.

“Oh, yeah. I just enrolled. I feel a bit awkward since I’m older than the other freshman by a couple years. Guess that's what I get for taking a couple years after highschool though, huh?” You joked back to the stranger as he sat and crossed his legs beside you. He nodded, closing his eyes in a face of understanding.

“Makes since though. This school isn’t cheap, for sure.” With another nod, he opened eyes when he grinned widely again at you. “Don’t worry about it,” he told you with a shoulder pat. “You look young anyways. You’ll fit right in. We twenty-somethings’ need to stick together, huh?” He asked as you looked at him with a small sparkle in your eyes.

“You’re in your twenties?” You gasped lightly. “Oh, jeez that was rude. Sorry,” you awkwardly brush off as you mentally screech into the void. Thankfully, he just laughed at you- but seemed blissfully unoffended.

“I’m definitely in my twenties,” he confirmed. He looked at the watch on his wrist as he silently opened his mouth into an ‘o’ as he started to uncross his legs to stand. He patted your back again. “Thanks for the chat, I’m a lot less anxious now,” he told you as he started moving away. You looked back to your lap and let out a breath. You smiled. If anything- he was the one who worked your anxiety away.

Your attention was grabbed when the studio door was shut and someone clapped from the front of the studio by the wall full of mirrors. Repeated students from previous years were soon sitting down and the freshmen were all sitting rigid- just as you were in your corner.

At the front of the class was the same guy who was just talking to you. Setting his duffel from his shoulder to his feet by the mirror wall on the floor. He turned and placed his hands on his hips as he looked around the room of 20 something students. Some familiar, some not. He just smiled at them all as a group.

“I sure hope this is everyone,” he started speaking when the small murmuring of others died down to focus on him. “I don’t take well to students being late, so make sure to remember that. If you’re not here on time, I’m locking that door and you’re not getting in.” He addressed, pointing to the studio door that was firmly shut. “On with formalities then,” he clapped again as he moved to start pacing back and forth along the mirrors. “As of today, some of you had never seen me before. Why? Well, because you're new of course.” He stopped in his paces before he turned to face the class sitting on the wooden floor. “I’m Jung Hoseok, and I’m this studio’s choreography instructor. Feel free to address me casually if you’d like.”

You nearly threw your head against the wall you leaned back against. You were just chatting it up and talking about age with your teacher?! He was one of very few people who really didn’t need to know your age. Not to mention, the passing thought of thinking he was an attractive man suddenly felt taboo. You’ve heard of teachers and student’s hooking up, but only in stories!

However, by the time the class ended many things were apparent to you. One, this class wasn’t going to have a shortage of difficulty. Hoseok ran through the curriculum and all the points and class topics he wanted to hit and practice through the semesters.

Two, you’d definitely need to start opening up to your classmates for group and duo projects or else you wouldn’t get very far into your college career.

Lastly three, the way Hoseok acted and carried himself like another goofy highschooler who loved dancing more than a fish loves water made him undeniably attractive and maybe- just maybe- your hopeless romantic heart thudded under your hoodie.

It was a week into your college course that you were already feeling tired from all the running back and forth between physical classes and sit down classes. You felt like your legs were screaming, but eventually you knew you’d get used to it.

You were walking as you packed your books into your bag. One thing that Hoseok made clear wasn’t a joke on the first day was his ‘locking the door if you’re late’ rule. He ended up locking 3 students out of the studio on the second day and you made sure that if it was getting close to his classes start time, you were running and weaving past students in the halls and outside in the quad. Rules be damned.

You had just stepped out of the bathroom where you had locked yourself inside a stall to change into your sweats and tee from your jean shorts and sweater when you bumped into your aforementioned handsome dance instructor.

Too busy trying to pry your water bottle out of your duffel mixed with trying to shove your wadded up clothes back into the same duffel and juggling your other class’ bag with books on your shoulder all met in the demise of your shoulder at your rammed into Hoseok’s.

Your metal thermos hit the title in the most unmelodic sound known to man as you jolt and screech in a semi-panic all in an attempt to catch it. Before you could shove your duffel behind you with your sweater hanging half out to reach for your fallen drink in it’s metal prison, Hoseok was already bent at the knees and picking it up instead.

You took the chance to shove your stupid clothes into your duffel completely and zip it when Hoseok was ready to had you your thermos. All while he just stifled a chuckle you could see building in his cheeks.

“In a rush?” He teased, knowing full well his class started in under ten minutes. You bit back the sarcastic reply on your tongue, reminding yourself that this was your teacher- not just another student you could afford to smart off to.

“Well, I don’t want to be locked out, so,” you shrugged, unsure if your tone made you seem snippy. Hopefully not.

“The day I have to lock you out of the studio for being late, maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let it slide.” He teased as he placed your thermos into your palm. “Let’s go if you’re heading that way.”

“You’re walking with me?”

“I don’t see why not,” he shrugged. “I’m going to the same place and besides, I did say that we twenty-somethings need to stick together,” he joked in a lop-sided smile that pushed up one of his cheeks.

“I wish you’d forget that I ever mentioned my age to you at all,” you groaned as he started walking and you tailed behind him until he slowed his pace to walk beside you. You rushed into the studio in front of him to make sure you made it before him as you rushed to your designated corner before anyone could notice you walked with Hoseok to his class. Properly tying your shoes, you rotated the ball of your worn dance shoes, listening to them squeak as they tried to grip the floors the best they could.

You really needed a new pair soon. Your new job’s first paycheck will be used more for bills then it seemed, a new pair of shoes seemed to be in your future. As Hoseok started class and got everyone to their feet to work through some simple steps to get warmed up for a proper assignment on the horizon, you could help but once again admire his shift from friendly, giggly Hoseok who teased you in the hall to the strict and passionate dance instructor.

“Y/n, could you run the register for just a couple more minutes? Laura is running late, but she said she’s just around the corner stuck in that traffic jam.” Your boss begged as you were about to clock out from your third day on the job. It wasn’t too hard to learn the ropes since you knew how to work registers as well as you could recite the alphabet. You just smiled, trying to wipe the crease out of her brows. She was clearly hoping you wouldn’t say no.

“I don’t mind,” you told her, her shoulder slackening. “I know the traffic sucks today. I can hang around a bit longer. I don’t have anything else to do tonight anyways.” With a promise to pay you for your overtime from your boss, you re-tied the apron around your waist and rushed back to the front where you joined the floundering staff already there. “What can I help with?” You asked them as they rang up someone.

“Just get me away from this thing,” they half whined in a weak laugh as you stepped up and began taking orders like you were programmed to do. Working through customer after customer, you soon saw Laura rushing into the coffee shop when the bell above the door jingled. She ran to you behind the counter. Apologize for being late, you assure her to take her time and not to worry too much about it.

You finally clocked out when you snagged a muffin from the display and made your way out around the counter. Your boss spoke to you for a moment across the display of pastries as Laura was already hard at work until closing hours. You bit into your muffin as you heard someone call you. Thinking it was a co-worker from the familiar ring it had, you turned immediately only to be met with none other than Hoseok.

He came jogging up to you, a coffee in his hand.

“Oh, Instructor Jung,” you greeted in shock. He cringed as you addressed him so formally. Almost everyone in your class had already reverted to calling him by name as he so kindly requested. You were one of the very few stragglers who still addressed him so formally.

“Instructor Jung? Really? That makes me sound like some old man who hates people,” he shivered. “Just call me by name,” he told you. Your boss tapped your shoulder, asking who this stranger with the round cute cheeks and healthy red hair was. He took a sip of his coffee through the straw of his to-go cup. He reached his hand across the counter-top to your boss once he swallowed the caffeine. “Jung Hoseok,” he introduced. “I actually teach Y/n’s dance choreography class in her major.”

“Well, what a lucky girl she is,” your boss teased you with flickering eyebrows that rose and fell in quick motions. Your face bloomed as you wanted to throw the remains of your muffin at her. You were never so thankful you had so much self-restraint. “I’ll see her tapping her feet or shuffling around in the back during her break, it’s pretty adorable.” Okay, maybe less self-restraint if she kept going.

You cleared your throat, face hot as you were determined to escape. “If you’re done teasing me, I’m going home now.”

“But of course,” your boss mused. “I’ll see you back in a couple days sweetheart,” she waved as she went back to her bossly duties of bosshood.

“It was good seeing you-”

“You're heading home, yeah? I’ll drive you,” Hoseok offered before you could properly attempt to depart.

“What?” You asked in shock, nearly dropping the same muffin you wanted to throw just moments ago. “Drive me? Oh, you don’t need to. I’ll just take the bus.”

“Nonsense,” he told you, stepping beside you and nudging you with a friendly smile. “It’s cheaper this way.” That was true. The word ‘cheaper’ was your favorite among the thousands in the words as a struggling college newby. Ultimately, you ended up in the passenger seat of Hoseok’s jeep as he pulled off the curb and into the awful traffic that had previously made Laura so late to her shift. “So, you dance at work huh?” He asked, his eyes set on the road as his fingers tapped at his steering wheel.

“Oh god, please forget you ever heard her say that.”

Hoseok broke into squawks of laughter that pulled at your own lips and the tension you had built up crumbled as you began to just talk. You had even forgotten he was your instructor as you spoke to him like you were talking to a friend. It wasn't until he was pulling up in front of your apartment building when that reality came back.

“Get some rest tonight,” Hoseok told you before you stepped out of the jeep. “I’m gonna assign drills and dance routines tomorrow in class.” You blinked as you looked at him confused.

“Why tell me this? Wouldn’t it have been better to wait to tell me with the rest of the class?” You asked as Hoseok just laughed lightly back to you, nudging your thigh as you started climbing out of the jeep.

“Have a good evening, Y/n,” he told you, totally disregarding your previous questions, leaving you ever more confused. You just nodded at him, now pursuing the topic any longer than you wanted to. He watched to make sure you got up the set of outside stairs and unlocked your door before disappearing inside before he drove off.

Just as he had told you, the next day he was assigning certain groups of students different routines or tasks to practice. Over the course of the next week you’d be free to practice your assignment given to you before delivering it to Hoseok. The concept of him not particularly instructing this project was to gauge the level of self-teaching. He would supervise and give advice and tips if asked, but he would not be out right teaching just yet.

You were among the group of people given a small little number running just shy of two minutes. Focusing more on footwork and precision rather than graceful nimbleness. A faster paced routine was something you felt wasn’t your strongest set of skills, but you enjoyed the feeling of learning nonetheless.

You often spent your afternoons you didn’t have to work in the studio, or inside the practice rooms off the studio practicing. You had opened up to a few other students given the same routine and gotten their advice as you had given yours in return. Hoseok had already told you a few times things you needed to keep in mind while practicing.

This particular night, two weeks into the curriculum you had stayed just a bit too long practicing you had completely lost track of time. In fact, you would've even stopped to notice the empty rooms and the darkening skies outside if it weren’t for the knocking at the practice room’s door.

You had locked yourself inside one of the private, off studio’s to listen to the track assigned with your routine. Getting a feel for the beat and tapping to it for a rhythm balance over and over again made you lose track of time absolutely. When there was a knock you just barely managed to hear over a small dip in the music track, you looked through the room door’s window to see Hoseok waving at you to come out.

Discarding your headphones, you got up and unlocked the door. Opening it to see your instructor dressed not in his sweats and hoodies for practice, but in jeans and a tee- ready to go home for the day. He looked unfairly well dressed in casual wear.

His brow was dipped as he glanced outside just before he looked back to you in your lamp lit small room. He could hear the faint hums of your music from your headphones you left on the floor behind you.

“Why are you still here, Y/n?” He asked. You blinked at him as if he was asking some asinine question. “Classes ended hours ago and that storm in the forecast is about to hit. You should get home,” he told you. You opened your eyes as you looked over his shoulder outside the window of the main studio.

Indeed the skies were dark and sprinkled with raindrops of the future downpour. How long had you been absorbed in your music? You ran back to your headphones and phone along with your bag and duffel as Hoseok moved to the front of the studio to wait at the door, but with a jiggle of the studio’s door, his face drained of color.

A jiggle was worrisome, two was just as worrisome and three was completely worrisome with a tablespoon of panic. The door was jammed, the knob not turning and the door not budging even when Hoseok yanking or shoving on it.

You had shut off the light in the private room, walking out into the lit studio where Hoseok was fiddling with the door. You could hear the metal of the doorknob rattling under his palm echo in the empty dance room as you got to his side. You already feared what he was going to say when he turned to you with a tense expression.

“Don’t tell me,” you spoke with a fallen face as he just let go of the doorknob. All routes of escape leading to utter failure. Hoseok quickly cleared his throat as he looked around the empty room.

“Don’t worry about it,” he spoke, his voice echoing in the large emptiness. “Someone will make their rounds in the morning and get us out. I have some granola bars in my bag we can eat and extra water bottles in my duffel. We just have to tough it out for one night.”

He tried making light of the situation to ease your tense shoulders. He could understand though. You were busy and lost track of time only to be told to leave by your teacher before some nasty weather hits. Only to be now stuck in that same room he told you to leave with him. You probably wanted to go home, take a bath and sleep in your bed. But, now you were forced to stick around in the studio until morning instead. Talk about an impromptu and unwanted sleepover.

However, it wasn’t the fact you had to stay in the studio that night that made you nervous. It shockingly, it wasn’t fact you’d be sharing the space with your more than handsome dance teacher either. It was the small rumbling you heard outside that made you anxious.

The first ten minutes of your small sit down with Hoseok was rigid and uncomfortable for both parties. You were nervous as you picked at your shirt’s loose threads and Hoseok was nervous because he felt like he was making you nervous. The endless cycle of nerves was suffocating.

“Sorry for the door,” Hoseok broke the nearly nauseating silence as he scratched behind his neck. “I didn’t think it’d be busted. Someone must have slammed it shut and jammed it or something.”

“It’s fine,” was your curt answer.

Hoseok looked into the mirrors, watching your reflection- too afraid of freaking you out if he actually looked at you. He cleared his throat. “So, uh- how’s your routine coming?” He tried again. Maybe a different topic will result in different results.

“It’s coming,” you shrugged. “Clearly I’m focusing on it too much,” you told him, motioning to the current situation.

“At least you don’t work today, right?” Hoseok tried lifting the spirits in the room with a smile. You cracked a smile back to him finally.

“That’s-”

The sky shook with thunder, interrupting your voice as Hoseok looked outside the window. The rain had begun as it pelted against the windows. You could hear the wind blow through the roof and along the window outside as it pushed the rain at an angle. The instructor whistled.

“That’s some nasty weather,” he muttered. When you didn’t respond in agreement, he looked back to you. He sat straighter when he saw you covering your ears with your palms. “Y/n?” He called as you seemed to remember where you were as you lowered your hands immediately and placed them back on your lap. You crossed your legs, bouncing one of them as the rain continued to hit the building and window and the thunder continued to roll.

It was impossible for Hoseok not to see how jittery the weather got you. He slowly scooched closer to your side after reaching for the previous mentioned granola snack he had with him. He offers it to you, hoping to ease you. You accept it, taking anything to keep your mind off the weather blaring outside like sirens in your head.

“Not a storm lover, eh?” He asked, but as lightly as he could. He asked in the same way someone would cover a child with a satin blanket. It was soft and comforting the way he spoke. You shook your head as you bit into the grainy snack. “I don’t mind them so much, but I guess some people really can’t stand storms.”

“‘Can’t help it,” you mumbled after you swallowed a bite. “I’ve been scared of them since I was little and just never outgrew it.”

Hoseok was soon rubbing your back as he sat next to you. You jumped every time thunder sounded and closed your eyes with a small yelp each time you caught a glimpse of lightning. Luckily enough the storm didn’t have nearly the strength to blow out the power, so he wouldn’t need to comfort you in a black out at the very least.

He was sitting beside you for nearly half an hour before he finally thought of something to keep your mind off the storm.

“Y/n, dance with me,” he pitched into the empty room as he continued to rub your back. You shot your head up to look at him, cheeks hot and mouth open in a small ‘huh?’. He just chuckled. “We’re stuck in here anyways, so let’s dance to pass the time!” He told you he was already spinning to his feet before he grabbed your hands and started pulling you up and out of your cross-legged position.

“You can’t be serious!” You squealed as he got you standing. He ran over to the stereo system and hooked his phone up to it before setting a playlist. Soon, music started pulsing through the speakers as you felt the vibrations of the bass through the floor into your bare feet after long abandoning your shoes and socks.

He danced back to you as he grabbed your hands and started dragging you around as he laughed. “Come on! It’ll be fun!” Pretty soon, he was twirling you around every which way he could before he actually started to properly dance. You were reverting back to your dance brain as you started properly doing footwork and taking correct stances.

What started as goofing off to keep your mind off the storm turned into a private study with Hoseok watching your practice the very dance that kept you here in the first place this evening. He had turned on the song assigned to you and the small group of people who were assigned the same thing as it looped over and over again.

Drill after drill with different steps of advice and stance correction was more fun with Hoseok than you thought possible. He would push on your back to fix your stance or twist your calf when you stepped so you wouldn’t trip. He showed you how to dance certain parts as you mirrored him.

You both watched the reflections of yourselves dancing the same quick footwork number side by side over and over again. And each new drill came with bigger smiles and louder laughing. You had actually forgotten about the storm outside over the sound of the music and Hoseok’s laughter.

The storm had subsided well after midnight and you finally fell to the floor, ready for something close to a hardwood nap at nearly three am. Hoseok fell next to you, still in a fit of giggles as you just breathed heavily.

“I don't know if I’ve danced that much ever,” you panted as Hoseok rolled from his back to his stomach to look at you on your back staring at the ceiling. He rested his chin over his crossed arms on the floor as he looked at the side of your face. He finally looked at him, feeling his stares and flinched when you looked into his eyes. You couldn't bring yourself to look away now. “Hoseok?”

He smiled unconsciously bright at your casual calling. “You sound pretty saying my name,” he told you, making your face flush. “You looked even prettier when you blush too,” he teased, kicking his feet up behind him like a five-year-old. You turned your head away from him finally as you looked back to the ceiling, not able to hide your red cheeks as he just kept admiring them. “Hey, Y/n?” He called to which you just hummed, not trusting your voice. “Wanna go get some coffee in the morning with me?”

You whipped your head back to look at him, seeing his smug smile on his head due to your deepening flushed skin. You felt like you were on the brink of sweating, you were so flushed.

“I- uh, huh?”

“When we get freed from the practice room, let’s get coffee. I’ll cancel class so we can. I don’t want to have class after being locked in here all night anyway.”

“I work in the afternoon though,” you lamely told him. He just smiled away, unable to bring himself to feel upset about anything.

“Then I’ll drop you off before work and then pick you up to take you home when you're done.”

“That sounds like you’re trying to flirt with me.”

“Y/n, I’m asking you on a date. Of course I’m flirting.” He deadpanned with a smirk as you shot up from laying down to sitting up. You looked down at him laying on his stomach, that small smirk still painted on his lips as you turned away from him.

“Well, I guess if you’re asking me,” you muttered. “I suppose I could go for some coffee,” you finished. Hoseok had to suppress even more chuckles and teases at the sight of your smile he saw in the reflection of the studio’s mirrors when you accepted his offer.

“Well then, I guess you better get to sleep. We’ve got a date in the morning,” he chided as he shot up to his knees and palms, moved closer to just barely get into your line of sight to wink you. He crawled to his bag he used as a pillow as you lay across the room from him doing the same.

How could you possibly get to sleep now? It didn’t matter, you reasoned; as you’d have coffee later to wake you up.

~END~

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queenjunoking · 3 years

Text

Wolf Taming pt 36

CW: Noncon - Pain - Petplay - Drugs - Kidnapping - Manipulation

Sasha

I felt disoriented when I woke up. It took me a few moments to start remembering a few things. There were still a few blank spots in my memory though.

I remembered Z.

I remembered the humiliation and pain she inflicted upon me.

I remembered kicking her ass before she had to cheat.

I remembered that she seemed afraid of something?

But the rest was lost in the cloud for a moment. I tried to open my eyes, but it just made me feel worse. I just tried my best to not vomit as the world spun a bit.

I tried to move, to grab for the bars of the cage to help ground myself, but something was holding my arms crossed behind my back. After a few moments of struggling I gave up trying to get out of whatever it was. Just something else Z had done to me while I was asleep.

I tried to call out, but there was something in my mouth muffling my speech. Some kind of padded bar. I tried to spit it out, but quickly found out it was stuck. I needed to open my eyes and see what was going on. I slowly peeled my eyes open, trying my best to deal with the dizziness as it came.

My heart jumped into my throat. I could see a wooden door in front of me. My vision was much more narrow and limited. There was something on my head that blocked the sides of my vision, only letting me see forward. I tried to stand but I immediately lost my balance and fell. I looked down at my feet and saw some kind of heelless boots strapped to my feet. I tried to kick them off but they wouldn’t budge. They may as well be glued on. I couldn’t see it well, but I could feel a series of leather strapped around my torso. A harness of some sort most likely given the rest of the things I was wearing.

The holes in my memory began to fill in. Z said someone was going to take me away from her. She gave me a drug that would let me sleep away to delay what was going to happen to me. Apparently it had finally worn off.

The wooden door suddenly squeaked open and two women walked in. They looked like rich snobs. They were dressed like they rode horses professionally.

“Good morning Callidora.” Another name. One almost worse than the one I was given by the last sociopath.

“Or evening based on your perspective I guess.” The other one said, holding out a leash and attaching it to a ring on my harness.

“Normally we wait to do this until daytime, but Mistress Eos has left instructions that you are going to be doing your first marathon tonight. Isn’t that exciting?” The first one spoke again, sounding a bit nervous.

The second one gave the harness a tug, trying to pull me out of the room I was in. I dug in the best I could, pulling her back with me.

“A little help?” The second one snapped at the first one.

“Oh, sorry.” The first one grabbed onto the leash and began pulling with the first one.

Neither were very strong, but it was a losing battle. There were no heels on these boots for me to use to dig in. They slowly just pulled me out of the stall. But it gave me time to start formulating a plan.

Once we reached the edge of the room I smiled to myself. They were pulling with all their might. So I went with them and jolted forward. The sudden lack of tension sent them crashing into the ground and they let go of the leash. I took a quick look around and saw that I was in a barn of some kind.

There was an exit not too far away. I bolted as fast as I could towards it. Freedom was so close.

But then someone stood in the way. It was a woman with short black hair. I could see a collar around her neck and cuffs around her wrist. I tried to avoid her, but there was only so fast I could run in these boots. She grabbed the leash trailing behind me and pulled. The force sent me to the ground.

“Ah, Callidora! I’m glad to see you’re awake and so eager to start your run.” She used the leash to forcefully pull me back to my feet. I glared at her and tried to yell at her, but it came out as jumbled nonsense. “Ah, a feisty one. I love that look in your eyes.”

She pulled on the leash, forcing me closer and closer to her until we were face to face. “I especially like watching that spunky light in the eyes of ponies go out as they’re broken in the perfect little racers.”

I did the only thing I could. I pulled my leg back and with all the force I could manage I drove my knee directly into her gut.

After the commotion died down a bit a band in the corner began to play. They were dressed nicely, but on closer inspection you could see their legs chained to the floor. It was an extravagance most members would want to deal with. Performers were difficult to deal with and mistakes could ruin events. It was easier to just shell out the money and pay an actual band to play, but I guess Rayne and Flora never did things the easy way.

I followed Rayne and Flora as they made their way around the room, making sure I was a few behind them rather than being with them. Flora made it a point to interrupt any conversation that seemed particularly active while ignoring the more casual ones. She’d walk up and the group would part for her and shower her with happy birthdays and compliments.

It must be nice to be surrounded by yes men all the time.

After about half an hour of doing this on repeat as we moved from group to group Rayne suddenly spoke up.

“I’ll be back in a moment my pretty peony, I have to check to make sure everything is set up for a bit of fun later.” She gave Flora a kiss and left us alone to go and talk with a woman in a purple dress. I saw the woman in purple smirk and then the two vanished down a hallway.

“So, Z. How are you enjoying the party?” Flora’s voice dragged my attention away from the two.

“It's… different.” It was overwhelming. There were so many people here. They made so much noise. It was louder than the auction house and it was making it difficult to keep my attention on anything in particular. “I’m not used to events like these. The auction house occasionally throws galas but I typically avoided them. Having an event like this be my first one is… well a lot.” I tried to punctuate my statement with a laugh, but it felt more awkward than I thought it would.

“Have you had anything to eat?” She reached out and grabbed a passing maid by her collar and pulled her back. I could see her eyes widen as she tried to stay on her feet and not drop the plates she was carrying.

“I haven’t. I typically don’t eat much.” I probably wouldn’t if I didn’t need it. I had better things to do than cook for myself or sit down for meals.

“I can tell, you really should eat more. You never know when you’ll need that energy.” Flora smiled and picked up a piece of chocolate off the plate and popped it into her mouth. She looked at me and gestured to the plate. “Please, dear, have one. Gold Medal chocolates. They’re unfortunately quite delicious. It’s so unfair that Eos can make these. As much as the world would suffer without them, I do hope her cow kicks the bucket so she can’t profit off of them anymore.”

Those words ate through the noise. I had a job to accomplish here and it was just easier to just do whatever dumb thing she asked of me to keep her from getting upset. I took one off the plate and popped it into my mouth. I wanted to hate it. I didn’t like chocolate. But it was unreasonably good. It seemed unfair that the bitterness I felt didn’t seep into the chocolate.

“Good, isn’t it?” There was an odd smugness in Flora’s voice I didn’t quite understand.

Unfortunately the bitterness seeped out of my mouth. “Unfortunately.”

The food was a gift. An expensive one at that, I was aware these chocolates carried a hefty price tag that I’d never dream of paying. Insulting something like that was very frowned upon.

But Flora just laughed. “Isn’t it? Nothing wrong with being bitter, Z. Not everyone gets what they deserve, for better or worse. Some people, like Eos, get more than they ever deserved to get. Others… well-”

She was cut off when Rayne walked back into the room. “Greetings guests. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourselves. But let’s not forget what this night is truly about.” Rayne approached Flora, tipped her head up, and kissed her. “It’s about my darling daffodil’s birthday. We’ll be moving to the next room in a moment. We’ll choose a few gifts at random for her to open in front of everyone. We’ll open the rest on our own later on.”

Rayne motioned for the crowd to move into the next room. I followed close behind Flora and Rayne. Was this the entertainment Rayne had been talking about? It was basically a roulette wheel. Having your gift chosen to be opened in front of everyone brought everyone’s attention on you and your gift. If Flora didn’t like it your status could sink. If she did you could probably milk it for some leniency if you asked her for a favor.

I did my best to keep up, but the sea of guests all trying to enter into the other room cut me off from the two. I decided to just stay back and just wait until the crow dissipated before I attempted to catch up.

“Watch it!” I heard a shrill voice call out. I looked into a sea of people and saw a woman with a ponytail chastising the woman in purple I had seen earlier.

“Apologies, Miss Rhiannon. I tripped.” Scout laughed awkwardly. She looked almost as out of place as I did. She cleaned up better than I did, but despite that she didn’t seem to be a high society kind of person.

“Whatever, just get out of my way. If I missed a front row seat I’m going to be pissed.” I could feel my blood boil as she spoke. She wasn’t much better than her aunt. Though at least Eos technically had accomplishments. Rhiannon was just a spoiled brat.

Eventually the crowd thinned enough that I could make my way through. In the front was Flora sitting behind a table. Beside her was a table piled high with presents. There were about 20 chairs set up facing Flora with the rest of the guests standing towards the back. All the spots were filled, but I kept walking towards the front. I didn’t want to get lost in the crowd if I was supposed to still be following the two around.

“Excuse me!” I felt a hand grab my arm as I tried to pass the front row so I could speak to Flora. I looked down at an older man with a greying beard that looked fairly peeved. “There are no spots open. Go to the back with the others, these are the spots for people who matter.”

I narrowed my eyes and was about to say something I was probably going to regret, but I was luckily interrupted by Rayne. “Ah, Z. I was wondering where you ran off too.”

She walked over from the present table and stood in front of me. She glanced down at the man holding my arm and he slowly let go. “You’re right Archibald. These seats are for the people who matter. Z has an epithet and you haven’t accomplished anything in the sixty years you’ve been a member other than sit on the money your parents made.”

“M-master Rayne I don’t think that's a fai-” Rayne didn’t wait for him to finish. Her hand shot out and gripped Archibald around the collar. With ease she pulled him out of his chair and threw him to the ground.

She gestured to the empty seat. “Seat’s just opened up Z.” I took the seat and watched Rayne step over Archibald. “Anyone without a seat stands in the back.”

Archibald turned bright red and walked towards the back. He was livid, but doing anything right now was basically suicide. The crowd in the back had their eyes on him as he joined them. He had lost a lot of face and I had a feeling he would never truly recover from it.

The crowd had quieted down after Archibald got thrown to the ground, but it was silent once Rayne stood beside Flora.

Rayne was about to say something, but Flora interrupted before she could get a word out. “Rayne? I want to open the red present with the purple ribbon.”

Rayne looked through the pile and found the one Flora had requested and placed it on the table in front of her. She carefully undid the ribbon and took the top off the box and peeked inside. She had an unreadable expression as she reached in and pulled out a small black box. She frowned and looked at the name-tag again.

“Virgil? I’m afraid I don’t know what this is.” She frowned at it and looked a bit bored.

I heard him stand up and clear his throat. I turned to look at him along with most of the people in the front rows. “Apologies, Lady Flora. I realize it’s not the most obvious gift. Had I thought I might be lucky enough for my gift to be on display I would have had it all packed in a larger box together.” Rayne cleared her throat, signaling to him to hurry it up. “Uh, right. So that’s part of a device made by a friend of mine. It goes along with a pad to stand on and some… let’s say fun instruments. The box is a camera of sorts. You have someone stand on the pad and turn on the camera. You can record them or even stream it live.”

Flora seemed a bit more interested. “So it’s mostly just a camera. What’s the point of this pad I’ve yet to see?”

“There are instructions for an app you can download that will let you set a pose. Once you press the button the camera knows exactly how the person should be standing and if they aren’t it sends a signal to one of the fun instruments for various effects. The pad helps the camera know how a person should be standing so it doesn’t go off on accident or fail to go off when it should. It also doubles as a pedestal.” Virgil shrugged. “You seem to have a love of still life statues, I thought this might be interesting to you, it would even let you show off some of them in real time if you were ever interested in sharing that with more people.”

Flora smiled at that and carefully placed the camera back in the box. “Thank you Virgil, it’s an interesting gift and I can’t wait to try it out.” He seemed relieved that Flora liked the gift and sat back down. “How about you choose the next one, raindrop? I’d love to see which you’ll pick.” Flora smiled up at Rayne.

“If that’s what you’d like my delightful daisy.” Rayne turned to the present table and examined it for a few moments before choosing a small green box that could fit into the palm of her hand. “Sometimes the best presents come in small boxes.”

“So wise.” Flora laughed a bit and untied the ribbon. She smiled as she opened the box, excited to see what she had been gifted.

But the smile vanished as quickly as it came.

Flora frowned and looked down into the box. No one was speaking before, but the silence became more taut now. A drop of a pin would sound like an explosion. She dropped the top of the small box onto the table and the thud resonated throughout the room. She then turned the box upside down.

“Empty.” She read the tag on the box and then locked eyes with Emerald. “Miss Pluto. I invited you into my home, to a party for the best of the best to mingle and meet. Provided everyone here with the best food and drink money could buy. Did I do something to offend you? What did I do to deserve this at my party?”

The eyes in the room moved off of Flora and over to Emerald. I expected her to be upset, getting called out like this was dangerous for everyone involved. But Emerald wasn’t afraid.

She was angry.

“Lady Flora, I hate to be the one to spoil what is in a gift. They’re supposed to be surprises. But I made my gift. I know you enjoy the many rare and hard to acquire things the Society makes and I know you have been unable to get a hold of a certain kind of flower. My present was a miniature gemstone carved into a purple rose encased in resin so it could be worn around your neck.” Emerald crossed her arms and turned towards the crowd in the back. “Despite my talent I am not ashamed to say it took dozens of attempts to work on something that small and delicate. It’s a priceless piece that ultimately took hundreds of hours of repeated attempts to make. Not only has it been stolen from Lady Flora, it is an insult to me that someone else thinks they should have it.”

“I’d like to believe you, Emerald. I really would.” Emerald turned back around when Flora spoke up. “It sounds like a very lovely and thoughtful gift. You and my beloved raindrop’s family’s are so close. So let’s see if we can find it. No one has left the party yet.” Flora crossed her arms, pouted, and looked up at Rayne. “I want all the guests searched.”

Flora, as always, got what she wanted. A few maids brought in another table and Rayne patted down a few people to start. Once they were cleared Rayne chose a few people she trusted to help search people. A couple people would go up to one of the tables at a time and get patted down. If they were carrying a bag it was emptied onto a table to be sifted through before they could gather their things and stand off to the side.

Despite standing with Flora the entire night, I was patted down before I went to stand behind Flora. Rayne said she was only being fair by including me, though I never thought Rayne would be one to expend effort in the name of fairness.

The process was taking forever. They were making their way through the people who were seated. Almost twenty minutes had passed and only the last row remained at this point. It seemed like a lost cause. What idiot would just hold onto it?

I looked over the crowd standing in the back. None of them dared to look impatient, but I doubt that any of them wanted to be standing there. I managed to catch eyes with Briar who just shrugged at me. This incident was eating into my time to talk to Flora about Sasha.

“Alright.” Rayne sighed. “I guess we have to check the bac-”

She was caught off with a man at the table beside Flora yelling out “ah-ha!” followed by the sound of someone hitting the table.

“Let go of me!” I looked over at the table and saw Rhiannon being held against the table by the man, one hand keeping her head pressed to the table while his other hand kept her arms held behind her back.

“Master Rayne, Lady Flora. On the table.” The man gestured to the table with his head, making sure not to let Rhiannon up.

Flora, Rayne and I looked at the table and saw a small necklace on the table. I heard Flora gasp softly. She was apparently pleased with the newly returned gift. Emerald wasn’t exaggerating. It was a fairly small orb that contained an entire miniature rose that appeared to be chiseled out of some kind of gemstone. The stem and thorns were some green gemstone and the flower was a purple gemstone. The petals were so thin you could almost see through them. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how something like this was made.

Rayne walked over to the table and hooked a finger through the chain and examined the necklace. “Rhiannon? I’m surprised with you. Here I thought our families were friends. Are you not doing your probation with a metal smith, why steal a piece of jewelry made by another family of metal smiths?”

“I wasn’t the one who fucking took it!” Rhiannon screamed as the man struggled to keep her held against the table.

“Then why was it in your bag?” Rayne asked, dangling the necklace in front of her face.

“S-someone must have slipped it in there!” Rhiannon was hyperventilating, struggling to figure out an answer.

Rayne just rolled her eyes. “Someone slipped it in there? You’re saying someone not only had the gall to steal from my beloved buttercup, but they also just decided to slip it into your bag? What do you think their plan was? Steal it back from you later?”

“Y-yes! No! I-I don’t know!” Tears were streaming down her face. “I w-wouldn’t take it! I swear.”

“Sure you wouldn’t.” She turned to the man holding Rhiannon. “I hate to ask a guest for assistance, but since you have her would you take her to our cells in the basement? Unfortunately I’ll have to get the enforcers involved.”

He simply nodded and a maid approached to lead him away. The crowd in the back of the room moved at of the way as the three made their way out. All of their eyes were on Rhiannon.

She continued to cry as she was dragged out of the room, but Rayne couldn’t help but get one last jab in. “Oh, Rhiannon?”

“Y-y-yes?” The man stopped dragging her out of the room for a moment and Rhiannon calmed down, a look of hope on her face.

“I’ll be speaking to the Gia family personally about the status of your probation.” Rayne gave her a smirk as Rhiannon’s eyes widened.

“Y-you can’t do this to me. Please! I didn’t do anything wrong!” Rhiannon’s screams were even louder than before, any pretense of dignity was gone.

“Why are you doing this to me!?” Was the last thing she screamed before she was pulled into the hallway and the door was shut behind her. Her words echoed through the room for a moment before they joined the silence of the crowd.

Rayne twirled the necklace around her finger before she turned around and approached Flora. She unclasped the necklace and carefully put it around Flora’s neck before tilting her head up and giving her a deep, passionate kiss.

After the uncomfortably long kiss they parted stared into each other's eyes for a moment before Rayne turned around to address the crowd.

“So, how about we enjoy dessert before the cops arrive?”

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samwrights · 4 years

Text

Elixir - Punk!AU mini-series

Hi guys! So I wanted to write something a little different. Not necessarily a “choose your own adventure” but something along those lines. This mini series will be a Punk!AU where the reader is in a band where your story depends on the person you choose! While no place is actually mentioned, I’m thinking Chicago (home sweet home) for setting. I’ve been working on this between requests and, while the requests keep coming, I’m trying to get the routes going. For now, I present to you the prologue.

Thank you quarantine, necessary drives to my Starbucks, Halestorm, Neck Deep, Pierce the Veil, and Paramore for inspiring these babies. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: there will be swearing, smoking of cigarettes and weed, consumption of edibles and alcohol, cheating and possibly be NSFW. I haven’t decided on the last one yet. Everyone will be of legal US age for consumption of nicotine, marijuana, and alcohol in the present day (18+ in some states for tobacco, 21+ in for everything else). However, there are mentions of underage consumption/distribution of alcohol. These are genuinely mature themes! If you are unable to understand that these themes are not encouraged to be re-enacted, specifically cheating and underage consumption/distribution of nicotine, alcohol, or marijuana, please do not read for your own safety.

A complementary playlist can be found » here

Photocredit by @scandeniall

Word Count: 3504

Prologue is below the cut!

You had been trying to ignore the gnawing thrum of discomfort that had worked its way into your intuition the last few weeks, but today the dull throb had transcended into an alarm blaring at the back of your consciousness. Like your body was trying to tell you something that should have been painstakingly obvious, yet when you attempted to pinpoint the cause, you fell short with an answer.

Period? Nah, too early for that.

Food poisoning? That wouldn’t last multiple weeks.

Pulled a muscle at the gym? That was a joke, considering you hadn’t gone to a gym since your senior year of college.

Anxiety? Well that was a given, considering you had a nasty gut feeling about something.

Stress? Stress was nothing new. In fact, stress was a very familiar friend to you.

What the fuck was it?

Even meditating on the thought for the last three hours, an answer had yet to come to you. Without ever finding one, you reluctantly pull the plush covers off of your queen sized bed and push yourself up to sit on the edge before checking your phone’s lock screen for the time. 1:23pm. You still had quite some time before you needed to leave for band practice, but you knew full well that laying in bed any further would encourage your current laziness. Making your way around the clothes that haphazardly littered your disheveled bedroom floor, you entered your bathroom to shower and get ready for the day.

The warmth of the water did little to quell the unsettling feeling that emanated from your gut. You even attempted to center your with old therapy tactics such as identifying all of your surroundings, such as which muscles of your body the shower was raining upon or the different notes in your voice that reverberated off the shower walls as you subconsciously sang. When that had failed, you allowed your mind to wander through the metaphorical meadow that resided in your brain.

At first, your mind focused on whatever lyrics fell from your lips, recognizing the prose as one of your band’s songs. Connecting the words that were committed to memory with people, your mind began to wander to your friends—the three boys you were thankful enough to call your best friends of a decade and members of your band, Elixir—Tetsurō Kuroo, Takahiro Hanamaki, and Yūji Terushima.

Kuroo, or Tetsu as you sometimes called him, was the guitarist of Elixir and the “mastermind” behind the name of your little group. Mastermind being a relatively loose term, as at the time, you all had felt indifferent to the name. But as nobody had come with any better alternatives, you all had stuck to it until it had grown on you. Kuroo was a year younger than you and, outside of the band, was a chemist for a small time company at the ripe age of twenty six. As you thought of him, you let out a soft snort that nobody but you could hear, thinking of his disheveled raven haired locks that framed his face; thinking of his earlobe holes that had been stretched out to nearly half an inch in diameter; thinking of the myriad of tattoos that littered his body from neck to toe. Sometimes, it did seem a little funny that this man had to wear a lab coat on the daily. You were so proud of him and of his accomplishments. He was ambitious and driven, focused on his goal of succeeding in both his field and with his band. Whether that meant recording an album and touring or just continuing to have fun was unknown, since really he would be fine with either or both.

Entertaining your analytical thoughts about Kuroo brought you to the bassist of your band, Takahiro Hanamaki, as you had met them both at your high school jobs in a local cafe. Makki, though he initially seemed profoundly reserved, had a relaxed sense of humor that typically came at the expense of others. At the time, he was a distinct contrast to Kuroo’s loud, antagonistic nature. Now, the two of them began to take bits and pieces of each other’s personalities. While Makki’s cool, composed self remained, he also was not one to avoid baiting someone just to crack a joke or tease them, an attribute he had adopted over the years of exposure to you and the guitarist. However, his laidback attitude was almost never immediately acknowledged by strangers, as his lanky build and harrowing, deep set eyes typically intimidate those who don’t know the light hearted bassist. And while he wasn’t the most “modified” member of the band, many saw the two eyebrow rings that rested above the right brow and, in conjunction with his natural features, immediately assumed the impression that Makki was unapproachable. You always had a soft spot for Makki and his slightly misunderstood ways.

Speaking of misunderstood brought your mind to the youngest member of your quartet—Yūji Terushima, or Teru as you affectionately called him. While he was only a year younger than the boys, two years in comparison to you, he was the life energy of the squad. When he had entered the cafe in which you, Kuroo, and Makki worked at for his first day, it felt that the final missing piece of the puzzle had been found, though you didn’t know it yet. It had been a year later, with you officially accepting the role of supervisor instead of trainer and Kuroo being your replacement. The two hit it off swimmingly and, while Makki didn’t necessarily match his energy, he compensated with humor. Terushima was, and still is, a wild thing. He breathes life into the rest of you by offering up crazy adventures that varied from a simple 2am Walmart trip to breaking into forest preserves at the dead of night to swim in a creek even though you had finals to attend to the following morning. In a sense, Terushima was the very reason Elixir had been born. After all, he was the one who encouraged each you to learn covers of songs until the interest had been sparked enough to learn how to properly play everyone’s respected instruments.

Backtracking your thoughts—finals. Finals meant university, and university was probably the most wild time of your life. As the friendship between the four of you continued to blossom with years passing, you all had made a pact to attend the same university. At one point, it had been tricky, trying to decide on where you were going to go and if you wanted to wait for Teru to catch up due to the age gap or if you, as the eldest, were going to pave the way for your juniors. It came as a surprise to the boys when you announced that you would wait, taking a two year gap in order to save money to lessen the blow of tuition in your bank account. Even more surprisingly, Kuroo and Makki had agreed with each other to do the same—what was the point in you staying behind and waiting for Yūji if they weren’t going to as well?

Waiting for Terushima turned out to be the absolute best idea ever. While you were initially hesitant to be rooming with three boys, friendship be damned, the four of you getting an apartment together for your university years was the best chaotic good moment you had ever been involved in. In a way, you all had gotten to celebrate many firsts together because of it. Did it bother you that you were a slightly older freshman? Sure, a little bit. Did it matter? Not at all, considering you were able to start buying liquor and beer as a sophomore in college and, as soon as your younger peers found out, you had turned it into a business to help pay rent for your shared apartment. Oddly enough, Terushima was the one who handled all of the expenses and calculated what you should be charging for your, ahem, “services”. Go figure, the youngest of you all was a math whiz. There was one unwritten rule for the apartment—no parties. Period. You could use your services to grab whatever supplies needed, whether it be alcohol, weed from a dispensary, or cigarettes, they were for your guys’ personal use only. Home was meant to home, and that was that.

Home; probably the single most important word in the entirety of your personal dictionary. While home was most often defined as a place in which a person or family resides, it meant something entirely different to you. Being home meant being with your best friends, your family. It meant being free to be yourself, unapologetically and unabashedly. And, maybe after rummaging through every single thought and analyzing each one through a metaphorical microscope, maybe that was where the disturbance in your intuition—that nasty gut feeling residing in the pit of your stomach—was coming from. There was something that you could not quite place that was disturbing your freedom, your home. Coming to the realization that your hot water had now gone cold, prompting you to shut it off and seek refuge and warmth in a fluffy towel and robe. Had it gone cold in that moment—the moment you realized why you had been on edge? Or had it been running cold out of irony that you had been in meditation for so long you hadn’t even realized it? You would never know the answer.

2:07pm. You still had plenty of time before band practice, considering both Makki and Tetsu would still be at work for another hour. To give them ample time to unwind from their work day, practice always started at five in the evening. In an attempt to kill time, you opted to make yourself a small lunch before sitting down to do your hair and makeup so as that you felt more comfortable being in public. Not that the boys cared—they lived with you for four years in university, they knew what you looked like at your absolute worst. Perhaps it became a habit to do so when you re-entered the working world as a full fledged adult three years ago.

2:29pm. After having your lunch, even taking the time to do all the dishes before moving into your next task—getting ready. While you didn’t feel the need to go overboard on your appearance, since it was just practice after all, you still had a solid hour and a half before Elixir was supposed to meet. Having plenty of time to kill allowed you to take your time to forego some self-care as well; maybe giving your locks a little extra tender love and care if you felt you needed it; plucking stray eyebrow hairs that had grown just a bit further outside of your desired shape. You checked the time on your phone again after you felt your look was complete, hair, makeup, and all. How the fuck had only an hour gone by? That was way more effort than you normally put in, or so you claim, yet time seemed to be mocking you.

3:36pm. If you could magically waste time picking out an outfit to wear to practice, you were doing so now. One part of you almost wanted to chuck on the leather pants you would potentially be sporting for tomorrow evening so as to give them a slight stretch and make them more comfortable while you performed. Another said to just keep it simple, and stick to leggings and a nice loose tee to keep you at ease. The last option that your mind entertained was wearing shorts and a tank because it always got so hot in Terushima’s basement during practice. You even went so far as to try on multiple shirts and tops that were essentially the same, swapping out different preferred accessories to see if you liked the look, if only to make the minutes tick by. Hell, you even tried multiple pairs of shoes, lacing each foot individually before the clock had passed four in the afternoon. Eventually, you tied on your typical, everyday combat boots despite the wasted minutes trying to do a wardrobe check. Now that there was only an hour left for Elixir to begin arriving the at the drummer’s family home, you decide to give yourself ample time to stop by and grab coffee for everyone.

4:13pm. You send a text message out to your mates, waiting for them to reply with what you knew would be their typical orders. Well, as typical as it could be considering Terushima was always trying out crazy concoctions. One by one they responded and of course, your assumptions were correct when Teru sent in his drink that took up four rows of text. “What in the actual fuck?” You grumbled out, squinting at your phone while simultaneously trying to enter your car. Following your typical routine of turning on whatever guilty pleasure playlist you were feeling in that moment and lighting a cigarette, you glanced at your friends order one more time before ultimately deciding to place the order online. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself ordering Yūji’s stupid drink. After placing the order, you made your way to a Starbucks closest to the aforementioned boy’s family home.

The drive to Terushima’s wasn’t a particularly long, even with the coffee run. Traveling between two suburban towns typically only took about twenty minutes regardless of the direction you were coming from, though you hadn’t taken into account the long line wrapping around the Starbucks Drive-thru. Not that it mattered—you were still on time for practice. Even if it seemed all of your friends were already here. Cautiously exiting your car with the tray of drinks in one hand while you let yourself into the Terushima residence.

His parents greeted you warmly as you always did before you made your way down to the basement. “Ayeeee, there’s momma.” Makki greets, taking the tray from your hands and distributing everyone’s respective drinks. Small talk place between band members, distracting you from the other three people in the basement—your bandmates’ girlfriends. When you did finally acknowledge their presence, you gave them a tight lipped smile, so as not to be rude, though they only gave a blank stare before bringing their attention back to the phones in their hands. You gave a roll of your eyes. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them, per se. It was more along the lines of you were the only female in the band and they automatically assumed that you were out to steal their mans. Not the case, especially considering you all formed the band before any of them were even in the picture, but go off.

Having already finished your beverage from earlier, you began plugging in the microphone into the amplifier and tuning the guitar you used for a small number of songs. Everyone else seemed to be ready to go except for you, who was strapping on the aforementioned guitar to prepare for the insanity of an opening that is Kuroo’s masterpiece. Besitos, he called it. Spanish for little kisses, you often wondered where the romantic title had come from considering the narrative was less than pleasant, even foreshadowing murder in the final verse. When you asked him about the inspiration for the lyrics and the title, Kuroo did nothing but laugh, adding in, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

The second song was a project curated by your drummer, Terushima. Brick by Boring Brick was a song that he claimed was inspired by his girlfriend, which was an endearing gesture if that were the truth. But from what you and the rest of Elixir had known of his girlfriend, she didn’t come off as a person plagued with baggage. Not that you could base it solely off of appearance, but with her and Yūji’s short lived relationship, it was a bit unbelievable that he had unlocked her tragic backstory in a matter of three months. Then again, what did you know? You didn’t even remember her name.

The title of the third song, Growing Pains, always made you laugh at the irony considering that Makki’s tall ass wrote the song. While a romantic, upbeat love song from Teru didn’t strike you as a shock, it certainly did coming from the bassist. Emotions that danced in the “love” category didn’t really sway him often. Maybe his girlfriend was just that special to him? You weren’t sure, because once again, you knew none of their names. But you knew for a fact that the song seemed to call for something more stable, endearing growth together and support for each other, which had you questioning how long had you been apart from your friends.

After the third song, you were winded and uncomfortable and no amount of water you chugged was helping you with sweat and dehydration. “I’m gonna die tomorrow.” You joked after setting your water bottle down by your microphone stand.

“We’re only a third of the way through the set, headass.” Terushima joked, pulling down his lower left eyelid and sticking his tongue out to you.

“For real, it’s only been like twenty minutes since we started practice.” Kuroo chided.

“Yeah, but can we smoke instead? I think there were a few things we should tune up before moving onto the next third of the set.” You looked to your guitarist with pleading eyes, holding a cigarette and lighter between your fingers. Makki, without saying anything else, pulled out a small bowl and packed it. He knew that any form of pleading made Kuroo a weak man, which inevitably meant a smoke break was up next rather than continuing on with work.

“Fine.” Despite the mock defeat in his tone, Kuroo is already gliding up the stairs, taking two steps at a time with you in tow. More steps could be heard, but they were lighter than the boys you had come know so well, meaning the three stooges were most likely following suit, despite them not being smokers themselves.

You and Kuroo were currently seated on a stone barricade as you lit your cigarettes, the rest of the crew picking at sporadic seats along the wall. Teru and Makki were next to each other to share their bowl while their girlfriends sat on the outside of them, just to your right. Kuroo’s girlfriend had taken up occupying the space between you and your guitarist and, maybe for a moment, you were wondering they were deliberately arranged this way.

The worst part of the girlfriends accompanying practice, in your eyes, was not their presence, but rather the fact that you felt like you couldn’t even talk to your best friends, your bandmates at band practice, because they were too busy comforting them so that they “didn’t feel out of place”. Regardless, you respected your friends enough to not make the situation more difficult for them—if you needed to say something, you could say it in the basement where spectator talk was not welcome. Out of the corner of your eye while you were internally monologuing, you see the lanky arm of Makki offering you the bowl, a few cinders of his hot still lit. With poor timing, he grabbed your attention while you were exhaling the smoke in your lungs, unintentionally doing so onto his girlfriend. “Shit, I’m sorry.” She rolled her eyes, though you know you didn’t do it on purpose. Whatever, she had her truths. You held up your hand that squeezed the filter of your cigarette between your index and ring finger. “I’ll get it on the next turn,” making Makki shrug and pass the small glass bowl back to the drummer.

A couple more drags of your cigarette soothes your craving for nicotine and when the paper had finally burned all the way to the end of the filter, you tossed the butt into the dead fire pit that acted as the center for your gathering. Terushima stands up real quick to hand you the bowl that had been nearing its end—giving you the last couple hits before it was cashed. When it came to marijuana, you didn’t smoke very often, but today you were grateful for the offering. Maybe the high would take the edge off of your...anxiety? No, that wasn’t it. Irritation seemed to be a better fit.

The seven of you shuffle back into the basement, rearranging yourselves, and knocking back a beer. “Okay, so before we move on, is there any song that you guys think we should work on before moving to the next third of the set?” You asked, your back towards your audience while you looked at your bandmates in earnest. They looked at each other, before locking eyes with you.

“Is there anything you want to work on? You’re the one who’s switching around with instruments and you’re the one who runs around on stage so we’ll leave it up to you.” Kuroo says evenly. You pursed your lips in uncertainty, think back to how each song sounded.

“Ya know what, let’s work on...........”

[ Besitos ] » Kuroo’s Route

[ Brick By Boring Brick ] » Terushima’s Route

[ Growing Pains ] » Makki’s Route.

BONUS: Terushima’s Starbucks order.

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blahblahwritings · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get round to this request I’ve had a manic week with hand-ins and work but it’s finished, I hope your like it!

Words: 2390

Warnings: Mentions of dead family members. A curse word here and there.

This was a stupid idea. Going to a flashy party in a flashy building hosted by a flashy company was one of the top activities you tried to avoid. You knew that your shitty minimum wage desk job and even shittier selection of dresses in your closet would make you not just feel but look out of place the moment you walked in. But, being a good friend, you caved when Emma had asked you for the tenth time to go with her, insisting that her friends and colleagues wouldn’t judge, but, coming from a group home, you knew better.

You weren’t a stranger to people thinking they’re better than you, or their fake sympathy when they found out your story, not that you were embarrassed by it. In fact, you had taken pride in it knowing that some of the shit you’d struggled through helped make you a better person. Not that they would care, they never needed a personality because they had the blessing of money and notoriety. Anyway, here you were, in your black dress and heels, a little bit of make-up you were sure had smudged on the car ride here and just enough alcohol in your system to make the night bearable.

Just looking at the exterior of the building made you want to throw-up, then again that could partially be the cheap wine you’d drank. The floodlights in the front shone beams of gold up the brilliant white bricks and the plants surrounding the door worth probably more than your apartment brought a pop of colour to the entrance. Emma finished paying the cab driver and stepped out beside you.

“Come on, it's not that bad. Let’s get inside.” She laughed, noticing your hesitation. Her hair sat in a perfect updo and her dress swayed elegantly as she waltzed forwards. Her whole look matched; the clips in her hair, the colour of her and her shoes, even the clutch she held presented her as a magnificently finished puzzle. You looked like a bag of trash next to her. Her hand gently tugged at your arm and with a deep breath, you made your way in.

The lobby was almost empty, save for a few well-dressed men and who you assumed were their dates chatting languidly by the front desk. Emma’s heels clacked loudly against the marble floors, your own in tow as she threw a friendly wave towards the receptionist before you reached the elevator. Your nerves picked up at the thought of being in a crowded room full of professionals talking business with fine champagnes and little finger sandwiches and stupidly fancy tables for it all to sit on. God, you needed to snap out of it. You’re complaining about the tables.

The doors opened and you stepped in, greeted by your reflection in the walls of the lift. At least your make-up hadn’t smudged. Emma turned to you and gave you a look.

“What?” You asked, eyes darting back at your reflection then back at her.

“Stop worrying so much, you look cute I promise.” She reassured, it kind of helped. Kind of.

A ding, the roll of the doors and suddenly the party was revealed. It didn’t seem the worst, you might even enjoy it. There were large round tables clothed in white fabrics with bottles of expensive champagne on ice standing in the center, large spreads of food were laid out towards the edges of the space as people picked and grazed. It was huge, far bigger than you were expecting and well furnished. The air was filled with laughter and polite conversation, a live jazz band performed on a stage with a sizable dancefloor. Thankfully, there was a well stocked bar for those who didn’t have the aquired taste of champagne and you’d have made a bee-line for it, had Emma not let out a squeal of excitement as a woman with long dark hair and a royal blue evening gown approached, gold jewellery shining in a beautiful contrast.

“Oh my god, hi! How are you? Isn’t this lovely?” She drawled, voice clear and sophisticated.

Emma let out a small chuckle, “I’m good and it’s gorgeous, where are you all sat?” she replied wtih a tilt of her head. The lady gestured vaguely to the left where a table of women gave over-enthusiastic smiles and waves as we peered over.

The three of us wandered through over and joined them. Your heart was in your throat as you tucked yourself in, eyes flitting between the champagne in the middle and the bar, debating fleeing in search of a better tranquiliser for the night.

“Emma, who’s your friend? I don’t believe we’ve met her before.” Another lady with a short blonde bob spoke. You moved to introduce yourself but Emma jumped in. “This is Y/N, she’s one of my closest friends and the nicest person I know, isn’t her dress cute?” The prompt led the girls to all ooh and aah at your outfit as you faked a tight smile and thanked them, shooting Emma a pointed glare which she returned with an apologetic wince. “So! Has Billy arrived yet?” She giggled taking the spotlight off you and you visibly relaxed, shoulders slumping forward, a chuckle escaped you as you shook your head recognising the name. She talked about him often enough, specifically his ‘perfectly styled hair’ and ‘eyes you could just drown in’.

“Unfortunately no, we do have a distinct lack of eye candy at this party.” The blue lady from earlier sighed exaggeratedly, sending them all into another round of giggles. Had you any self control you’d have hidden the grimace that crossed your face. You weren’t overly fond of talking about people in such a way. A waiter came to your table, asking if there was anything he could get, be it food or drink. They requested a second bottle of champagne and as he turned, you gently caught his arm.

“I’d like a whiskey, a double on ice if that's alright.” You tried and he nodded. “Of course, would you like a mixer with that, miss?” He questioned and you shook your head. He quirked an eyebrow at this and shot you an amused smile probably knowing you disliked this ordeal as much as he did. Turning back to the table you engaged in their chatter until you could quietly sip your drink.

Across the room, a tall man in a black tux entered, his hair slicked back and a freshly shaved stubble lining his jaw. He was greeted by a few other party-goers, laughing and complimenting the festivities. Typical, tedious small talk always appeased the businessmen and women. Billy took pride in his work, but that didn’t mean he had to like the sleazy old men in his clientele. He was partially listening to the dramatic but fake story one of the men always told at parties to impress the women as he sipped his drink until someone caught his eye. You. He recognised your face almost immediately but couldn’t be entirely sure for the crowd. Excusing himself from the conversation, he moved with the grace of a cat, eyes never leaving you, sat at the table with a glass of something dark in your hand.

Memories of the group home came flooding back to him, of your laugh and smile, that echoed only feet away from him. He remembered the nights spent talking for hours on the floor of your room about your ambitions and how you were both gonna ditch the place for good. Flashes of you crying, upset at one of the other kids because they said something that hit a little too close to home for you, cuddled into his side as he pressed soft kisses to the top of your head. His whole world fell apart the day you went your separate ways. He needed you just as much as you needed him if not more because you were there in the early hours of the morning when he couldn’t sleep, when he had lost all his cockiness and his wit, coming to you with nothing but glassy eyes and vulnerability.

He continued to stare, unsure of what to do as everything moved in slow motion. It was new to him, this experience of being stuck for a plan, but, he was interrupted as another man came over, a little more drunk than he should’ve been, cheering at Billy. He lost sight of you, just for a moment he took his eyes off you and he pushed past the drunken businessman and into the crowd to get to you. A few people made noises of complaint, quickly hushing as they recognised him.

He appeared by your table, leaving the crowd behind and just gaping at you. He couldn’t believe you were here, and looking like you did? Your eyes perfectly framed by your eyeliner, your dress hugging all the right places and your heels highlighting the shape of your legs? All that ran through his head were words of praise.

Emma stood suddenly from the table, approaching Billy and you watched curious as to where she was going until your eyes landed on him. “Y/N, this is Billy, my boss, he's the host of the party.” She explained. A cheshire grin painting itself on her features. You stood, taking a step towards him and offering your hand. He glanced down at it and his eyebrows furrowed for a split second. Didn’t you recognise him? He took your hand and shook it once, forgetting to take his back. You had to admit, he was incredibly handsome, but there was something about him that you couldn’t quite shake.

“A pleasure to meet you, sir.” You offered a genuine smile, looking into his almost black eyes. He gave a tight smile back, a pang of disappointment shooting through his chest. His hand still held yours and some of the girls giggled amongst themselves. “Uh..” You began awkwardly before an important looking man requested Billy to follow him. His eyes flickered down to your hands and he quickly recoiled, a light flush dusting his cheeks as he leant closer to you so only you could hear him. A whisper of a few words left you dumbfounded.

You sat back down, staring through the table. Those words. They triggered something in your brain, flipped a switch. Billy… Billy Russo from the group home. Your mind began racing with the memories of him.

You sobbed, body shaking and hot tears trailing down your cheeks. Billy’s hands moved to cup your jaw, thumbs wiping away the salty droplets. You pressed your head into his palm, the warmth soothing you. You’d just confided in him, told him everything about your past, your parent’s death, your uncle’s suicide all of it. He was the first person you’d opened up to who didn’t just leave. His eyes held a deep sadness but they were also full of love for you. He brought your head into his chest, letting you bury yourself in his hoodie, the sound of your sniffles and heavy breathing muffled by the soft material. Looking up at him, you wiped your face with the sleeve of your shirt and laughed at the wet patches you’d left on his own. He gently pulled your chin up to look him in the eye and said;

“And here you are living, despite it all.”

It hit you like a brick wall and you stood so swiftly that your chair fell backwards behind you. Not bothering to explain yourself you charged through the crowd in the same direction he disappeared in, shrugging off the obvious sounds of disgust at your rudeness. Your eyes raked through the ocean of people, the sounds of obnoxious laughing, energetic jazz and the exaggerated old men’s stories filled your ears becoming unbearable. You span, frantic to find him and explain yourself as you replayed the memory over and over in your head. Bodies bumped and clashed with your own pushing you around until you collided with a firm chest. Spinning on your heel you looked at who you’d hit.

Your eyes met and you couldn’t look away. It was him, standing tall and looking at you with that signature grin. You let out a laugh in sheer disbelief before wrapping your arms around his neck. He quickly returned the embrace, nuzzling into your hair and glad you’d remembered him even if it took those words to jog your memory. He couldn’t blame you for wanting to forget that place.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise, I tried looking everywhere for you after we were separated but I-” You rambled over his shoulder as he softly pushed you back just enough for you to look at him. “Maybe you didn’t look quite hard enough?” He suggested, cocking an eyebrow in jest. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, laughing as you slapped his chest lightly. You looked back up at him, turning serious. “I mean it, Billy, I tried everything and it led nowhe-” You were cut off by him shushing you quietly. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.” He whispered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You instinctively leant into his hand, feeling at ease in his presence again. Tears threatened to spill but he pulled you into a tight hug again before they could.

The music faded into something a little softer, and he threaded his fingers into yours tugging you towards the dancefloor. You snorted, rather unladylike, but he just turned back and laughed. “Good to know that hasn’t changed.”

Pulling you closer, his hands moved to just above your hips, ever the gentleman, and started to sway you both to the music. He smirked noticing the blush on your cheeks and you shook your head looking down with a giggle. Who would’ve thought you’d find each other again all these years later? Leading two entirely different lives despite such a similar beginning. He pressed his lips to your forehead, leaving them there for a moment before you looked up at him again. You sighed, content and lay your head against his chest, closing your eyes and taking in the moment, relishing in the fact you had him back. Only this time, you didn’t plan on letting him go.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #request #fluff #the punisher #jigsaw #jigsaw x reader #marvel

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noeliareads · 4 years

Text

“5SOS IN 2014?”

The prompt: “I would like to see a goth!/punkbf!johnny au bc reasons” Man, you’re not the only one!

words: 1028

category: fluff+randomness

author note: I pulled my emo/punk playlist from the grave. I hope you enjoy it!

“5SOS IN 2014″

“Johnny, do you really need another pair of dr martens?” You ask as you collapse on one of the benches in the store.

“Yup!” Johnny’s tall figure browsed the different styles of shoes until he saw one pair that caught his eye. He lifted the boot proudly. “How about these?!” Your eyes widened causing Johnny to crack up.

“God no.” You say. Johnny raised his hand to call over the employee and proceeded to ask for his size. “Johnny!”

“What?” He leaned on the wall facing you and crossed his arms. The tattoos on his arms peeked underneath the leather jacket he insisted on wearing even though the weather forecast predicted a high of 90 degrees. Still, he looked rather ravishing.

“Y/N.” You blink away your previous thoughts and looked up at him.

“Huh?” His pierced right brow lifted slightly.

“What are you staring at dummy?”

“Noooothing.” You sing.

Johnny pushed himself off the wall and crouched in front of you. He rested a hand on your knee.

“Oh really?” He taunted. Just in time, the employee brought the pair of boots. Johnny thanks him quickly and sits beside you to try them on.

“Dude.” You say. “Do you really wanna get a pair of platform dr martens?”

“Lol. Why not?” He responded standing up with them on. You gaped. God no.

Your boyfriend was easily around 6’3. (ya’ll are lying to yourselves if you think he’s 6’0). With those boots? He looked TALL but like, TALL. Too tall. The way he intimidated you just doubled. I mean, how could he not? He was the definition of a punk bad boy. If you google punk or goth you will find the typical spiked hair, tattoos, the eyeliner… You get the idea. Johnny had his own vibe. Yeah, he mostly wore black and always wore his leather jacket and always wore his docs and he did wear eye makeup a lot… ok yes, he’s a punk wannabe.

Today? With those boots? *chefs kiss* the platform boots paired with his skinny jeans made his legs look infinite. But as he looked at himself in the mirror you couldn’t help but still feel slightly scared of him. He laughed at your horrified expression in the mirror. His laugh was so contagious that he made you laugh too.

“Babe no.” You say. “Just get a pair of vans.” He whipped around in the blink of an eye.

“Vans?” He exclaimed clutching his chest. “Do you want me to look like 5sos in 2014?”

“What’s wrong with that? They’re hot. Plus, I’m wearing a pair now.” He sat beside you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder as he whispered in your ear.

“It’s the aesthetic.”

“Aesthetic?” You scoff. “Aesthetic is Alex Turner in AM era.” Your boyfriend tilted his head to the side. (gif for a bit of context)

“So I’m not punk aesthetic?” You get up and pull up your pants before standing in front of him. Ironically you were eye level with him.

“Babe.” Placing a hand on his shoulder you whisper “You listen to Twice every time you shower. You cry with romance movies PLUS you sleep with your childhood blankie.”

The giant covered your mouth with his hand, quickly looking around making sure no one heard.

“For the record-” you muffle “you’re my aesthetic.” A faint blush covered his cheeks and the tip of his ears turned red.

“Umm… Excuse me-” Mark, the employee interrupted “Are you going to get the boots?”

“Yes, but instead of these I need the regular ones in a women’s size 7.” Johnny said.

“John, who’s that for?”

“You silly.”

“But babe...” You felt bad, they’re expensive pairs of shoes.

“Shush, no buts. You mentioned wanting them for a while. Plus, take it as an introduction to the punk aesthetic.” He winked.

“You’re too much you know that right?”

“Ahh, that I know.” He affirmed. Johnny was excited! He could now match shoes with his girlfriend, as cheesy as it sounds. Regardless of his rough exterior, he was a complete softie.

The transaction was done quickly, Johnny not letting you pay a dime. You two walk out of the store hand in hand greeted by the beautiful summer heat. Johnny gagged.

“Ewwwww. It’s humid!” He let go of your hand and shrugged his jacket off, exposing his arms splattered with tats. The most prominent one being on his left forearm. His parent’s birthday in roman numerals. Damn. You think. How did I snag this guy? Johnny was ethereal, especially sporting the undercut he got done a couple of days ago. You could see his ear-piercing more clearly.

“Babe, stop staring. You’re drooling.” You immediately wipe our mouth causing him to burst out laughing.

“Shut up.” You murmur as he pulls you close.

“I love you.” He murmured pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“I love you too J.” You get on your toes and give him a swift peck. “Wanna get coffee?”

“Ohhhh say less!” He snatched the car keys from your hand and sprinted towards the car. “I CALL THE AUX CORD!”

“What?” You yell running after him and mentally cursing him for having such long legs. Why did we park so far away? “JOHNNY SEO!” You holler. “I’M TIRED OF YOUR PUNK BANDS!”

“YOU LIKE MOST OF THEM ANYWAYS!” He yells back already reaching the car. You catch up and gasp for breath as you lean on the driver’s side.

“Did you die?” He asked. You glare at him and scoff.

“No shit sherlock.” You two get in the car and he passes you the keys.

“Can we listen to fall out boy though?”

“Ok. That I do like.” Johnny fist bumps the air and connects his phone to the car speakers. Suddenly, Red Velvet starts playing at full blast. You’re looking at him mockingly as he purses his full lips looking up at the ceiling. He doesn’t even hide the fact that he was listening to RV.

“Red Velvet, huh?” He smiles sheepishly and shrugs.

“Zimzalabim is a bop.”

“Okay. Whatever you say, love.” You put the car in reverse and leave the parking lot. “Psycho is better tho.” You add quickly. That last comment drove you two into a debate of which RV title track is best.

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