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neonponders · 3 years

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This isn’t what @memes-saved-me had in mind for this post but lol (read their tags, they’re delightful)

Thinking about a younger Billy and an older Steve today ✨

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

Billy scratched at the hair on his nape. He wanted to grow it out; really had always wanted long hair. And now, as he peered at the other sophomores trying to fluff themselves bigger to match the juniors and seniors, he just might.

Long hair was in. Mullets, rock star manes, extensions - even the opposite. Women with buzz cuts and pixie faux hawks. Pleasant little surprises in Hawkins, Indiana, and Billy might finally indulge in that.

Plenty in this town was backwards as all hell. Girls wearing white stockings like it was the fifties. Boys and girls alike clearly letting having learned hair styling from their out-of-date parents. Two girls with beehives sat in his English class.

But it was fine, because there was plenty of present-day styling, and Billy wouldn’t get any shit at home for matching his peers.

Cherry Lane. The most backwards spot in Indiana.

But that’s okay, too, because small town people need occupations. Parties.

A cool senior with teased, black hair walked right up to him and handed him a neon orange sheet of paper. He saw others holding similar invitations all day.

Party on Friday night. Address, dress code, and everything.

Caught him by surprise, that a dress code would be needed for one of these things, but the invitation just said ~casual attire~ and someone in his Advanced Biology class told him that Tina hosts the best shin digs, often with costume themes.

So he went. The late summer evening was still humid as all hell, making the party split between the massive house and the matching yard a convenient way to start a weekend.

He’d had alcohol before. Enough to know he preferred tequila drinks over vodka and gin, but the safest way to wake up the next day was to just stick to beer. No matter how bitter or sharply carbonated some of it was made.

Maybe that’s why he heard people hollering about King Steve.

Keg stands weren’t original to Hawkins, but Billy preferred them next to a bonfire on a beach. But people were really yelling for this king to do the damn thing -

“Steve, why are you even here? You graduated in May,” Tina’s voice cut through the din.

“I live down the street! You really think you’re making this much noise without me noticing? And all of you shut the hell up! I’ll do a keg stand the day one of you dip shits can actually beat my record.”

Another surprise:

Steve Harrington.

Billy’s dumb luck had him three years behind, so he couldn’t look at that face in the hallways. Sit behind that head of glossy, bouncy hair in European History. He still lived in town, apparently. Right down the street. Billy asked around and discovered he worked at the mall and attended the community college -

“Heard you been asking about me.”

Billy stared wide-eyed over his beer. He recovered quickly, but not before Steve bounced on the balls of his feet, smug. That hair was really distracting.

These people really gossip about everything.

“I didn’t think anybody actually went by a title like that.”

“I didn’t put it on my resume, that’s for sure.” Steve’s smirk grew into a smile. Christ, the guy really had that Indiana, home town handsome thing to his face.

That was dangerous. Billy’s gut told him so, the way it bruised like someone had poked it. And wanted to be poked again.

“Let’s do this properly. Steve.” He held his hand out.

It wasn’t queer to accept a handshake. “Billy,” he replied.

“Hargrove?”

“Jesus,” he scoffed involuntarily, releasing Steve’s large hand. His weight shifted over his feet. “Everybody knows everything here.”

“Not everything,” Steve said. His voice sounded...reassuring? But the way his eyes blinked...and a darkness slipped behind his eyes like a curtain. Adults liked to call it maturity. Wisdom beyond years. Billy called it ghosts. Everyone had ghosts behind their eyes. But...he had a hard time imagining what ghosts this pretty senior in suburban America would already have.

Then again, Billy knew better.

Except, as the party progressed and the weekend flowed into a new week, Billy really couldn’t imagine what made Steve slouch a little, and what made his eyes fade out of a conversation. Billy probably should have put more attention into how much he’d begun seeking the guy out.

He worked in the ice cream parlor at the mall. The uniform was equal measures ridiculous and hilarious, but his coworker was cool as hell. Robin. Not Steve’s girlfriend, even though they carpooled to work and community college.

Steve’s house proved just as luxurious as Tina’s, with a pool to boot. A house which supposedly stayed empty more often than it hosted its own family. Steve notoriously didn’t host parties, which....seemed uniquely odd.

Apart from Billy visiting the ice cream shop, it seemed Steve’s only other visitors were high school freshman. Which was weird. That’s weird, right? Then again, Billy was ball and chained to eight hours a day, five days a week to high school. There was plenty of time for Steve to be with friends his own age.

Except he showed up at the next party on Halloween.

Tina’s house boasted a surprising number of Hawkins graduated seniors, forcing the party all the way out onto the street.

Just like before, Steve manifested beside Billy, announcing himself with fingertips brushing his slowly growing, weak little mullet. “Growing that out?”

Steve’s already heavy eyelids were heavier with alcohol. Billy had his customary cup of beer, but his cheeks flushed for a different reason. He had to rub the back of his neck to make the tickle stop.

“Yeah. Maybe it’ll touch my shoulders next year.”

“Have you trimmed it?”

Billy frowned at him. He’d heard some things come out of Steve’s mouth that were endearing in a ‘bless his heart’ kind of way, and this was among them. “No, that defeats the point of making it longer.”

Steve shook his head and waved for him to follow. “Come here. I’ll trim it.”

“You’re not cutting my hair,” Billy scoffed. And followed.

Upstairs.

Billy did his best not to look around the living room; to see any eyes apart from the ones he imagined on his backside. He followed at a leisurely pace. Not eager to be with King Harrington anywhere...

The guy walked right into the closed master bedroom. Billy stood outside of it, stunned at his audacity and the fact that no one was inside it already -

“You coming?”

Billy’s not a coward -

Actually he is. But he’s an overeager sophomore with a dangerous crush even more.

Steve dug through the master bathroom’s drawers until he found a pair of scissors in their own case. “Sit on the tub.”

By tub, he meant jacuzzi edge. Billy perched. Steve gripped his shoulder to step into the tub with a comb that smelled of foreign hair product and aftershave. Billy’s nose wrinkled. “Wash that first.”

Then he jumped at the tub faucet turning on right beside his ass. Steve laughed. “Chill out. I’m washing it.”

Billy settled with a disgruntled shake of his head. “My hair is curly. You’re not supposed to brush it at all.”

“You’re in the hands of The Hair Harrington, sweetheart. Just relax.”

His shoulders sagged right underneath the weight of sweetheart.

I’m so screwed -

Of all people to show up in the doorway, Robin from Scoops showed up with an energy that insinuated more sobriety than the guy wielding scissors.

Her mouth hung open like she had come with something to say, but then she sputtered through laughter. “Oh shit. Are you consenting to this?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “If he cuts my ear, I’m beating his ass.”

“I’d appreciate more faith from you, Buckley. I cut your bangs for you.”

Billy chirped, “Really?” admittedly feeling a bit better.

Steve intercepted with the order, “Are you gonna play music or what? I’m so tired of Tina’s music.”

That’s how Billy wound up in a bathroom with college freshmen trimming his ends and styling his hair while Steve and Robin shout-sang to Whitney Houston.

It was great.

Steve curled the top of his hair so he had ringlets falling over his bold brows. Steve, who had his hands all over Billy’s head until he washed the hair down the drain and filled the tub for a bubble bath. Billy scrutinized himself with a handheld mirror until Steve wrapped his arms around him and they tumbled backward into the wet landing.

Tina was hardly pleased to find the three of them making a mess of the jacuzzi, but she sassed a quick thank you for warding off people trying to fuck in her parents’ bed. Billy didn’t have words; only laughter at Robin putting her hair into a wet mohawk and Steve piling bubbles onto his head.

Steve insisted they go back to his house afterward. “It’s November and we’re soaked. Your car will be fine. I can come back and park it in my driveway if you’re that worried.”

That wasn’t the problem.

“It’s fine that your parents are never home, but mine will only recently lifted my curfew for good behavior.”

Somehow, he convinced Steve and Robin to drive him back to his house, at the expense of letting them change at Steve’s first. Billy had his eyes on a beautiful Camaro and was just a few more months of allowance and part time jobs away from having her.

It was his first time in Steve’s house. He had to admit, he preferred Tina’s layout and decor, but he got to wander around. He saw Robin use one of the guest rooms. He saw Steve’s....incredibly boring room. And said as much.

“A prison cell has more personality.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. Are you ready to go?”

It wasn’t until Billy lay in his own bed that those words tumbled through his brain. His fingertips moved through his still-styled hair. It felt better with those dead ends gone. Steve did a good job. Steve liked Whitney Houston and Blondie and a little of everything, really. Steve cared about his appearance enough to be a self-taught stylist.

Steve didn’t have a lot of furniture in his room. Clutter on the dresser and desk, sure, but all of it monochrome or neutral colors. Steve who had an old BMW, house, and surely a bank account to match, but didn’t buy anything in excess. Like he wasn’t allowed to, or something. Billy indulged every scent he got on things he wanted, but Steve didn’t.

Steve had a nailed bat in his trunk. Billy heard it rolling around on their way back to his house, and finally bent over to look under the seats and saw it.

Steve was a walking contradiction. A contradiction who smelled good but didn’t say much when Billy and Robin talked about history. Who started giving Billy free ice cream but never asked about Billy’s stepsister. Who gave Billy rides and gave him the hookup to the high-paying neighbors of Loch Nora for mowed lawns and dogs walked.

Steve helped him get his car sooner than he would’ve otherwise but didn’t ask for anything in return.

Steve, who was always available for a good time, but looked sad when left with his thoughts.

Billy didn’t take well to not being the center of attention. He’d grown up with an interrogation lamp over his head, and sought positive interaction everywhere else. He got so much of it from Steve, that the occasions where Steve bumped against him...refused him, or ignored him, or reminded Billy that he was a rinky dink sophomore lit a match in his belly. And he’d swallowed gasoline for too much of his life.

“That’s something a virgin says.”

Billy couldn’t even remember what he’d just said. He was already, instantly, seeing the glow of embers on the fringe of his vision. “Excuse me?”

Steve shrugged as he got up from his couch. “It’s whatever. It’s fine. Just showing your hand, is all.”

Billy couldn’t believe it. Steve was either the biggest idiot in Hawkins - which he knew wasn’t true considering there was a real cesspool that smoked underneath the bleachers - or he was so far in denial that Billy had a whole new reason to be pissed.

An involuntary sound left Steve when Billy came up behind him and pushed him against the wall underneath the stairs.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

Billy wasn’t some cute sophomore. He stood toe to toe with Steve, barely an inch shorter. If this is what it took for Steve to realize that, fine.

To realize that Billy wasn’t some teenager scared shitless of a girls’ bra -

Steve regained his footing, and closed the distance between their mouths. It was small, soft, and brief. Rationality should have made Billy step away. Punch him, maybe. But Billy wasn’t rational. His shock held him statuesque, barely breathing while Steve moved a hand to cradle the side of his head and neck -

A sound left Billy this time, as Steve angled his mouth over Billy’s. Where he learned Billy was scared, so scared of Steve. His body dashed rationality against the wall and kissed him back tentatively, and then earnestly, just trying to keep up until Steve’s other hand framed him in. As Steve pushed against him until Billy walked backwards to have himself pressed against the wall.

He felt drunk as his hands let go of Steve’s shirt to hold onto the curvature of his ribs. He panted while Steve kissed his throat and washed Billy’s senses with his warm, sweet fragrance; his hair brushing Billy’s face and inspiring him to turn his face into Steve’s scalp. Inhale him into his lungs.

Billy didn’t know what game they were playing. But Steve outplayed him.

#are we in the present day or the 80s? who knows #harringrove #younger billy with s3+ steve #ficlet #neonponders #memes-saved-me #pondermoniums #a sprinkling of #virgin!billy #this got long lol #i wanted to write more but i like this ending #for now?#i have things I need to do lol #i'm sorry for the abrupt ending

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 3 years

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May we have a little tattoo artist!s/o please? As a treat?

Been thinking about this for the past few days so here you go :)

Poly!Lost Boys x Tattoo Artist!S/O

Warnings: tattoo and blood mention

You met the boys by having them come into the tattoo parlor you worked at. Well, one of them did. A tall, handsome brunette had entered the shop one night, his bike parked outside. He'd barely talked through the entire consultation, and it seemed like he'd thought about the design for a long time. He even had it sketched out for you, and he was laying on his side. You were surprised he wanted a waist/rib tattoo as his first tattoo, but you already guessed there was no convincing him otherwise. He hadn't worn a shirt, and you guessed it was because of his choice of placement. He was even quieter during the tattooing process, and you noticed that he kept shutting his eyes at certain points. Almost as if he was falling asleep.

He only asked you a couple of questions, and that was towards the end. He asked you how long you'd been doing this for, and you chuckled when you told him a few years. He'd hummed, and, after a few beats, he pressed for your age. You told him, and then said, "Don't worry, I may be younger than some of the people here, but I'm not gonna mess up your tattoo. If I do, feel free to kill me." And he laughed. It was a surprising sound coming from the brunette, and you paused to look over at him. He caught your eye, and you caught the smile on his face. Before you could turn red, you looked back down at the nearly finished tattoo in front of you. When you finished, he didn't bother heading for the mirror and instead pulled his jacket on. He headed straight for the cash register, paid, said a quick thank you, and was gone with a flash of some finger guns.

You didn't expect to see him again so soon. They were all talking fairly quietly, with the tallest of the three blondes seeming to be the one that was getting the tattoo. Trailing behind them, you saw a familiar brunette. The one with the bleached mullet kept reminding him that "tattoos are permanent, Paul" and the smallest of the four even said, "they last forever, dude". But, despite the other boys warnings, Paul, the one obviously here to get the tattoo, still persisted. And Dwayne pointed him in your direction. He just wanted something on his arm, near his shoulder. He had a piece of paper with what he wanted drawn on it as well, in a familiar art style. He only had to take off his coat, and was able to keep his sleeveless mesh shirt on.

The others sat outside the room while he got it done, and you were surprised by how chatty he was during the whole thing. Definitely unlike his friend. Whether he was normally like that or was doing it to distract himself from the pain, you didn't know. Still, you chatted with him as much as you could, and, to your surprise, he grinned at you and asked for your number afterwards. You flushed as you gave it to him, and, just like his friend, he passed by the mirror and made a bee-line to show the others instead. Paul was more focused on planning a date with you then paying, and the two of you had the entire ordeal planned by the time the four of them were heading out the door. Well, you thought it was just going to be the two of you. You were surprised to see all four of them at your agreed meeting place, and even more surprised when they didn't beat it the second you showed up. By the end of the night though, you didn't really mind.

After dating them for awhile you found out that it was Marko who was the artist, and that he was the one that designed all the tattoos. You gave Marko his first tattoo at the cave, and he quietly watched every stroke of the tattoo gun as you did it. It was an arm piece, just like Paul's. His eyes never left your hand, and you were almost scared it wasn't going to be up to his expectation until he let a large smile cross his features. He was quick to compliment you, and even quicker to kiss you.

David was a solid pass on the tattoos for now, claiming that he already had an addiction and that he didn't need another one. You chuckled as you teased him, telling him that the whole reason you got into the profession was because you liked them. David gave you a warning glare, and Paul jeered at him from the side. It was that night that David decided to tell you what they were, explaining that that's the big reason why he didn't want a tattoo yet. They were literally going to last forever.

You found out that Dwayne had been thinking about his tattoo for about the past fifty years, but he was the first one to even try to get one. They'd been half sure that it would heal the next day, and the whole painful ordeal would've been pointless. When it didn't, Paul had decided he'd needed to get one immediately. He'd only been slowed down to waiting a few weeks by the others. Still, a couple weeks later and Dwayne's tattoo had healed completely (vampire perk) and it was still on his skin.

After dating you for a few months, Paul wanted more. You, like the others, told him to sit on it for a bit before you'd mark it into his skin. And, usually, after about two weeks he had a whole new idea for a different tattoo he wanted in the exact same place.

Marko is the only one of the boys that you ever let tattoo you. You'd done it in the early hours of the morning one night, and his hands had been still and steady, with the buzzing sound of the tattoo gun nearly lulling you to sleep. It was a small one, barely an inch, but Marko was beyond proud of his work. He beamed and leaned down to kiss the area, before licking away any stray droplets of blood. You pushed his head away, mumbling something about how that was unsanitary as he laughed.

David becomes interested in the idea of giving you a tattoo as well, but you knew he'd probably end up tattooing his name onto you or something, so, just like him, you gave it a pass

The boys love to visit you at the shop, asking about what you did today and if you were making any big tips. Depending on who came, they'd bring you coffee or some takeout (Dwayne usually brings coffee, Marko brings takeout). Paul usually stops in a few times a night just to give you a kiss, and David comes in to talk for a bit during your breaks. They'd also occasionally ask about any problem customers, and god forbid they come in when any surf-nazis are getting something done at the shop. You made them swear there'd be no fighting in, or around, the shop or else it'd be your ass one the curb. Of course, David just took that as an opportunity to remind you that you wouldn't need to eat if you decided to turn, but that was only when you were at the cave or out of earshot of other humans.

They become well known around the shop from how much they visit, and your co-workers have an ongoing joke of asking, "wait, which one are you dating again?" The boys end up on their good sides regardless, simply because Dwayne and Marko remember to bring extras for some of your co-workers.

Marko considered becoming a tattoo artist for a little bit, but, after hearing about how long he'd have to be an apprentice, the idea became a little bit less appealing. Though, it was Paul that pointed out that you could always be his mentor, and let's just say that lead to some interesting comments in the bedroom for a couple of weeks

Overall, the boys love and support your profession, especially since it sometimes means free tattoos

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys marko #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys

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chaseatinydream · 4 years

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pirate king (2) || atz

“All the dried fruit has been accounted for.”

You fight down the yelp that had almost left your mouth, trying to quieten your breathing as much as possible. Two men, from the sound of their voices, are inspecting the food stocks. You’re going to be found.

“How much salted fish?” The deeper, lower voice you heard giving commands earlier asks his partner, and you pick up the sound of a pen scratching across paper.

“Enough to last us two weeks, if Jongho doesn’t eat them all by the first.” The second voice, softer and gentler, quips and they both share a laugh.

“That kind smile hides a darker mind beneath, Seonghwa-hyung.” The speaker with the deeper voice comments with a rolling chuckle. You’re still frozen in fear as they continue to take inventory, but them finding you is inevitable.

“How much alcohol did we get?” The person she assumes to be Seonghwa asks and you hear the sound of barrels shifting. “San needs some of it to treat the wounded.”

“Enough rum to last us till Tortuga and some wine and beer on the side.” His partner replied, writing some more things down. “I’m sure we can spare a barrel or two, not many of them got injured.”

“That’s a relief.” You can hear the worry leave Seonghwa’s voice, but your panic levels are jumping as you hear them move ever closer to you. “I heard Yunho didn’t have a scratch on him.”

“Neither did Jongho.” The other man snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already down here, chomping his way through the apples. Look, the sacking fell. I’ll get it.”

And suddenly the sackcloth is pulled away from your head.

You don’t have time to think. Lunging forward, you headbutt the man who removed the sackcloth from you in the face and you hear him let out a howl of pain, letting go of the sacking to clutch his bleeding nose. Your eyes dart around desperately for an escape route, but before you can move, someone slams you against the wall, the tip of a razor sharp knife pressed to your throat.

“Don’t move.” It’s the softer man, Seonghwa, although his grey eyes are hard as stone now. You can’t look away, transfixed, and he continues to speak, eyes never leaving yours. “Mingi, you alright?”

The man he addresses has a long, face with strong, defined features and narrowed eyes, tiny braids done in his cerulean blue hair. He’s tall, taller than you by about a head. He gives you a resentful scowl. “I think he broke my nose.” The words come out thickly as the man you now know to be Mingi cups both hands over his face, trying to stem the flow of blood.

Then it hits you.

He?

It’s true you’re not especially curvy and your chest has been bound by strips of cloth, but you didn’t expect to fool people so easily.

“I’m sorry.” You manage to choke out. Seonghwa and Mingi exchange surreptitious glances.

“You should get San to look at that, Mingi.” Seonghwa advises, worry written all over his face. Mingi nods wearily, blood falling through the cracks in his fingers and staining the ground.

“Let’s get this kid to Hongjoong-hyung first.” The taller man sighs, grabbing you by the shoulder with a bloody hand and pushing you towards the stairs you had tumbled down from. Pain lances up your ankle, but you steel yourself and step on it anyway.

It’s excruciating, but you don’t dare to show any weakness. They might toss you overboard. Or feed you to the sharks. You don’t know and you really don’t want to find out.

You bite on the inside of your cheek so hard you taste blood, but you manage to make it onto the main deck. Many faces turn and look upon you with surprise, then they see Mingi bleeding from the nose and their expressions turn threatening. One even draws his sword.

You flinch back into Seonghwa, who steadies you by the shoulders, while Mingi addresses the crew.

“I’m fine!” He shouts through his bloody nose, which obviously isn’t fine. “Everyone back to work, please.”

There’s a disconcerting silence as if they’re still planning on how to kill you in every way possible, but they eventually turn back to their work cleaning the cannons and securing the sheets. Mingi turns back to you.

“This way.” He says gruffly, pulling you up another flight of stairs, Seonghwa at the rear. You bite back another whimper of pain, but Seonghwa hears it.

On the quarter deck, you catch sight of a man at the wheel. He’s young, almost your age, dressed all in red with patchwork black pants. His ash blonde hair falls into his eyes and the back is done in a neat mullet. But the most eye catching thing about him is the black eye patch he has over his right eye, the confidence he stands with despite his age and how he’s steering the ship as if the oceans bow at his feet.

Something in him calls out to you.

“Hongjoong-ah, we found a stowaway in the cargo hold.” Seonghwa calls over you shoulder as Mingi forces you to your knees. The man at the wheel doesn’t take his eye off the sea for a moment, pulling a length of rope from around his waist and lashing the wheel in position. Only then does he turn around.

“Mingi, take the helm- What happened to you, Mingi?” The helmsman’s voice is almost an entire octave higher than Mingi’s, almost too cute to be a pirate’s. His eyes rake over the bloody nose on Mingi’s face, before his expression settles into a frown.

“Got headbutted by our stowaway here.” Mingi jerks a thumb at your face and Hongjoong’s one eye follows it down, coming to rest on you. His fingers dance on the hilt of one of the two cutlasses hanging at his hip.

You gulp. “I said I was sorry.” You mutter under your breath.

Hongjoong’s eye drills into you, a calm, unbothered smile on his face that terrifies you more than if he were furious. “Well, I guess I should introduce myself, shouldn’t I?” The side of his lips pull up in a smirk. “This ship is the Treasure and we’re the pirate band ATEEZ. I’m Kim Hongjoong, the helmsman and captain of this ship.”

At that, your mouth falls open. This man can’t be any more than twenty two, but he’s the captain? Hongjoong nods at the dumbstruck expression on your face, the chilling smile never leaving his face. “What about you, Royal Navy scum?”

Seonghwa and Mingi’s expressions change to shock in seconds and Seonghwa even begins to draw that wicked long kitchen knife from his belt.

You pause at that. “Royal Navy?” Your lips pull downwards in a frown. What is the Royal Navy?

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Hongjoong’s not smiling now and you feel the air drop several degrees. Your teeth want to start chattering but you force a terrified smile on your face. Hongjoong’s eyebrows lower into a frown.

“The coat you are wearing is of Royal Navy make. An officer’s, I might add. It may be beaten and torn up, but I’d recognize that rose insignia anywhere.” He jerks his chin at the red patches on the shoulders. Sure enough, you can see the rose stitched into the fabric. “So what is your purpose here? If you answer truthfully I might simply shoot you instead of having you flogged to death.”

He doesn't sound like he's joking.

Goosebumps race along your skin and you know that your face has drained of colour. You don’t even remember your own name, how are you supposed to remember where you got this stupid coat? So you start rambling.

“Okay actually I just woke up this morning in the prison of the town you guys just looted like a while ago and I kind of don’t remember how I got there so like they were talking about bringing me to the gallows for some kind of public hanging and I don’t really know why they wanted to hang me so when you attacked I just tried to escape and ended up in the harbor so I ran up the first ship I saw which was your ship and tried to get away from the fighting so I went into the cargo hold and fell asleep there so yeah.”

There's a pause.

“What?” Mingi blinks. You open your mouth to repeat it when Hongjoong holds up a hand. You close your mouth with a clop.

“Seonghwa, go help San take care of the wounded.” He orders and Mingi stiffens as if they’ve breached some kind of taboo conversation topic. The other man visibly relaxes and exhales shakily, nodding. “Yes, captain.” Then he turns around and makes his way down to the main deck.

Hongjoong turns back to you with a calm gaze. “So, according to you, you can’t remember why they would throw a Royal navy officer such as yourself into prison?”

“I’m not a Royal Navy officer.” You retort with a scowl, meeting his gaze angrily. When he raises an eyebrow, you catch yourself, swallow and lower your head. “I’m sorry.”

“Well this is certainly the most interesting story we’ve heard from a captured Royal Navy officer, haven’t we, Mingi?” Hongjoong muses to himself, running his tongue across his lips. Mingi nods apathetically.

“He’s also the youngest.” The quartermaster adds on to the back unhelpfully.

“Tell me, what exactly did you intend to do after escaping onto my ship?” He leans back with a smile, as if expecting some silly answer. You don’t have any smart ones, so you answer honestly.

“I really wasn’t thinking that far.”

Sighing dramatically at your lackluster answer, Hongjoong nods again. His one eye is a vivid green, like a poisonous snake’s that could sink its fangs into you at any moment. He seems to be contemplating something. Then he lifts your chin with a finger so that you meet his eyes even as you try to squirm away.

“Well then, Mister I’m-Not- A-Royal-Navy-Officer.” The young captain wears that same chilling smile again, and it doesn’t make you feel any better. “How about this? We’ll tie you to the mainmast so everyone can keep watch over you and we’ll feed you enough to survive, but the moment we stop at Tortuga, I’m tossing you onto shore. If I find out that you’re one of the Royal Navy swine at any moment...”

There’s a click and suddenly there’s a musket pointed at your temple. Your body seizes up in rapid panic, blood freezing over in your veins. You hadn’t even seen him move.

“I’ll gut you like a stuck pig.” His voice is warm and smooth, right next to your ear. You don’t even realize you’re trembling until he steps back, holstering the musket in his belt with an amused smile on his face. “I’d shoot you for breaking Mingi’s nose like that, but I suppose that it won’t matter if I’m going to kill you in the end anyway. Mingi, secure the boy to the mainmast and make sure not a single man on board touches him, then get San to look at your nose.”

“I got it.” Mingi sounds almost annoyed at being babied with the repeated advice, but Hongjoong just laughs.

“I’m interested to see how long you can keep this facade up, pretty boy. Don’t worry about anything.” Hongjoong’s grin is terrifying, wild like the raging sea as he strides back to the wheel, boots clicking on the deck.

“When it finally breaks, I’ll be the one to end it all for you.”

That’s the last thing you hear before Mingi marches you down to the main deck.

You’re still freezing from the chilling encounter with the young pirate captain as Mingi pushes you towards the main mast. Even the pain in your ankle doesn’t seem to compare with the numbing terror of Hongjoong’s threat. You slump in shock against the main mast as Mingi looks upwards into the rigging.

“Yunho-ah, toss me some rope!”

Seconds later, a coil of rope slithers down the mast and Mingi wraps it around your upper torso securing your arms and torso to the mast. It’s loose enough not to cut off the circulation in your arms, but tight enough to ensure you won’t be going anywhere. And honestly, where can you go? As far as the eye can see, it’s all ocean.

You thought that escaping the gallows had been a smart move. Now it seems like you threw yourself from the frying pan into the flames.

Go home, the voice in your head whispers. You tell it to shut up savagely.

Mingi finally announces to everyone that they are not to make eye contact with you, speak to you, or have any form of interaction with you as he finishes off with several skillful knots at the back.

“That includes physical contact like beating or throwing things at him.” Mingi adds on and there’s a collective sigh of disappointment from the crew.

“You sure, quartermaster?” One of the men at the cannons pulls out his musket. “An eye for an eye, he did make you bleed!”

The rest of the crew shouts agreement, but Mingi shakes his head firmly.

“We’re pirates, not barbarians.” He chides, wiping his nose once more. The blood flow seems to have slowed to a steady trickle at least. “It’s my fault for being unprepared. Besides, these are Hongjoong’s orders. Any of you want to answer to captain?”

“Absolutely not!” The crewman declares and the deck breaks out in carefree laughter. Mingi gives a tiny smile as he straightens up from tying your bonds.

Something in your chest tugs painfully.

“Well then, don’t get me into trouble with captain.” He waves them back to their work and they do so cheerfully, all the tension in the air gone. Then Mingi turns back to you with a stern scowl.

“From what you can see, the crew isn’t exactly happy with you.” He gestures at the deck with one of his long arms. “I’d suggest you keep your mouth shut if you want to make it to Tortuga alive.”

And then he turns and leaves you alone with your thoughts, a lonely stranger on a foreign ship.

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musical-broken-heart · 3 years

Text

Mental Breakdowns and Hair Cuts

Ships: Henry/Patrick side Reddie and Stenbrough

Age: Bowers=16 Losers=13

TW: Slurs, Panic Attacks, Self Harm, Mental Breakdowns, Abuse

Clenching his fists he fell to the floor sobbing. Holding himself he curled up next to the bathtub slowly his hands found his hair and he tried pulling it out of his scalp.

He needed to die! All he did was hurt people but he couldn't help himself. He needed to get his anger out and he didn't want to talk about it nor did he want to hurt his friends the only people who cared about him.

The past few weeks he had the same nightmare of Patrick going into the sewer and being eaten alive by a monster made of fear itself. That same monster possessed him in his dreams and made him kill Oscar and his friends. He hated his father but he would never think of killing him. He may have been abusive but he was all Henry had after his mother just left. He normally woke up screaming drenched in sweat the vivid image of his friends in the car their necks slit their blood on his hands and Patrick decaying next to him still haunting him.

He was weak. He was a faggot. He needed to die! Death scared him. Thats why he never cut deep. Thats why he mended his own wounds before he could bleed out. Standing up he looked in the mirror seeing his bloodshot eyes and tear-stained face. Grabbing the scissors he started cutting off his mullet. Once he cleaned his new hair cut to look like a professional had done it he looked in the mirror again hoping to see someone new only finding a broken boy staring back at him.

"Henry get up! Get your ass to school!" Oscar yelled. Henry didn't think twice before putting the sweater on and throwing the hood over his head. Running out of the house he walked to Vic's house as normal both waiting for Belch to come to get them.

"I remember watching you cut the hoods off all your sweaters," Victor said not moving his eyes from Henry and the black sweater. "That sweater looks a few sizes too big for you are you sure it's yours?" he asked his blond hair falling over his eye. "Why do you care? I found it in my roo- house!" Henry growled. Victor was a smart kid who could figure anything out if given enough time.

"It's Patricks isn't it?" he asked causing Henry to go red. "Yea he left it at my house I was cold and all my sweaters are cut up so I just borrowed his jacket! Shut up!" Victor smiled and hummed nodding his head. "He may be a sociopath but once he realizes that's his jacket he's gonna get a boner." Vic laughed as Henry started coughing. "Why the fuck would you say that?!" Henry asked leaning over trying to get a breath.

"Get in assholes!" Patrick yelled as Belch drove up. "Where'd you get the jacket?" Belch asked getting the middle finger from Henry. Victor giggled and leaned over whispering like a little girl at a sleepover. Belch smiled and smirked at Henry who blushed harder. Thankfully Patrick ignored the situation. But Belch had to say something. "Hey, Pat what happened to your jacket?" Henry glared at him. "I think I left it at Henry's," Patrick said not bothering to look at his friend. Henry sighed and slouched down in relief.

Patrick looked over realizing Henry was wearing the jacket. It was too big for him causing him to look like a child. Patrick blushed and started to laugh so Victor wouldn't notice. "You look like a drug dealer in my jacket Puppy!" Henry rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Whatever Hockstetter!"

Pulling into school the four walked only for Henry to get pulled aside by a teacher. "No hoods in school Henry!"

Groaning Henry took the hood down but refused to meet anyone eyes. "Whoa, your old man finally get sick of the mullet?" Victor joked pulling his friend close patting his back. "Shut up!" Henry growled pushing his friend away. "Hey, Bowers finally cut that fucking mullet? About time!" Richie shouted getting Eddie to shush him. "Shut up faggot! You should really listen to your faggot friends and keep that stupid mouth shut!" Henry yelled. Stan stepped forward and pulled his friend back. "What's your problem asshole?!" Henry chuckled and grabbed Bill. "Your faggot boyfriend and his stupid stutter is my problem! Along with all your faces!" he said pushing Bill ontop of Stan.

Belch and Vic chuckled ready to grab one of the Losers but Henry stopped them going to their lockers. "Where'd Patrick go?'' he asked leaning against his locker. "Don't know he rushed off when you took the hood off. Said he had some school work." Belch said getting Henry and Vic to look at him. "What? OH!" he said realizing what he said. "I'm gonna go look for him," Henry mumbled starting to walk away.

Looking around the hallway someone covered his mouth and pulled him into the bathroom. "Why did you do it? Do you like to torture me Puppy?" Henry sighed and shook the boy off him. "I don't know what you're talking about!" he hissed. Patrick grabbed Henry's wrist and pulled him close curling his fingers under the smaller boys chin lifting his face up. With his other arm, he wrapped it securely around Henry's waist keeping him close. "Don't you seeHoney? I love you!" he whispered bringing their lips together. Henry's eyes widened and tried to pull away but only ended up being pushed against the wall with no hope of escape.

Patrick slowly pulled away and arm still wrapped around Henry to other on the wall next to Henry's head. "Patrick get off of me." Henry tried to yell but ended up sounding defeated. Patrick smiled and started attacking the boy's neck causing him to moan. "You look so hot with short hair," Patrick said starting to run his hand under the sweater causing the leader to squirm and whimper. "Patrick! Stop! You-you, don't know what love is! You're fucking psychotic!" Henry growled once again trying to push his friend off him.

Patrick pulled away looking hurt grabbing Henry's wrists and pinning them above his head. "I'm not a psychopath! I'm a high functioning sociopath. Honey, you should know this." Henry shivered and tried to move his legs but Patrick caught on and pressed his knees against the boy's legs. "I know enough about love to know that the first time I saw you standing with Victor under that pine tree and my heart tried to leave my chest I would die for you. Kill for you!" Patrick whispered in Henry's ear.

Henry bit his lip and looked at the floor. "Pat. You might know what love is but I don't." Patrick sighed and brought his lips to Henry's again this time he stopped. "I don't want to rush you Puppy," he said softly. Henry smiled and connected their lips this time the kiss was sweet and soft. "Should I grow out a mullet?" Henry asked. "Don't! You look like a sweetheart with short hair. You also look really hot in my sweater!" Patrick said getting a chuckle from Henry. "Thanks for forgetting it, Pine Tree. My dad would have killed me. Probably wouldn't compare to last night." Henry said going for another kiss but Patrick pulled away.

"What do you mean compare to last night?" Henry realized his mistake and laughed. "D-did I say that? I meant um. Compare to the abuse some kids get definitely not me?" Henry said quickly. Patrick growled and pulled away from Henry who pulled him back kissing him. "Honey I have to go kill your father. I can't have someone hurting you." Patrick said between kisses. Henry moaned into the kiss his arms around Patrick's neck. "Pat! I can't have him die!" Henry said as Patrick slowly grabbed his legs lifting him up. "Why not Honey? He's hurting you." Patrick said.

"I've had dreams," Henry whispered as Patrick moved to his neck again leaving marks. "Tell me about them," Patrick said. Henry moaned in delight his head falling back. "You die. By a creature made out of fear. It possesses me a-and I kill Vic and Belch and my old man." Henry said. Patrick stopped kissing the boy and held him closely. "Puppy look at me. It's okay. I'm not dead I'm right here." Patrick said holding Henry closely as the leader shook. "You alright honey?" he asked lifting the boys head.

"Pat. What are we?" Henry asked looking to the side. "If you want we could be boyfriends?" Patrick said getting a small nod from Henry. "God I love you!" Patrick said starting to kiss the boy again. Running his hands on his waist he slowly moved down to his thighs getting a small yelp from Henry. "You started cutting again," Patrick said. "I-I never stopped. It helps me get passed, my dads beatings." Henry whimpered. "Puppy promise me you'll stop."

Henry nodded and kissed Patrick again. "Pine Tree I have to get to class!" Henry said pulling away. Patrick grabbed him and wrapped his arms around the boy. "I have to go, darling!" Henry whined kissing him. "Miss one day of classes for me!" Patrick said getting a sigh from the boy. "I can get Belch's keys to the car." Henry groaned.

Patricks POV

A few weeks ago I left my sweater at Henry's. I knew it was in his living room so I went over while his father was out to find the house empty. Walking into Henry's room I found him sleeping and not wanting him to wake up finding me staring at him I looked in his closet quickly. Sighing I turned back to the bed finding his arms wrapped around a blanket. Chuckling I went to leave before looking back seeing it was my jacket I forgot. Blushing I turned around and quickly left.

Getting outside I stood on the porch and ran my hands through my hair. Goddamnit, he was hot! I went home but I couldn't get him out of my mind. Groaning I fell onto my bed burying my face in my pillow. Maybe if I try hard enough I can convince my parents to move.

The next few weeks went by and Henry wore my sweater. It was too big for him causing him to look like a drug dealer. "Whatever Hockstetter!" he growled his face red. Turning my focus back to the window I smiled.

A teacher told him to take off the hood and I didn't think twice about it. Glancing at him I quickly looked at him again. He no longer had a mullet and damnit he was hot! "Uh I-I think I have s-some school work to um to work on." I stammered out to Belch only getting a nod from him as Henry started yelling at Richie and the other Losers.

Quickly walking to the bathroom and leaned against the sink looking in the mirror. My face was a bright shade of red and my eyes dilated. Groaning shook my head trying to get Herny off my mind. He hates fags and finding out his friend was gay for him!

I walked out and saw him looking for me. Grabbing him I pulled him into the bathroom. I don't know what came over me but I confessed. I kissed him! He didn't get mad. "Patrick stop! You-You, don't know what love is! Your fucking psychotic!" he said. I stopped and looked at him. It hurt hearing him say that. Shaking my head he was wrong! I might have been crazy but I still knew that I loved him. I saw tears in his eyes but I couldn't tell if he was sad angry or happy. "You might know what love is. But I don't," he said softly looking to the side.

I don't want to rush him. He's gone through a lot. He smiled softly and kissed me. Starting to make out he chuckled thanking me for leaving the jacket. I knew about his father being cruel but I thought he had stopped the abuse. "I'm going to kill him!" I growled out loud. Henry's eyes widened and he shook his head. "N-no! I need him! You can't kill him!" he said quickly surprising me. I nodded and held him close. "Please Pat!" he said tears starting to roll down his face.

Dreams. He explained how he had nightmares about me dying. A monster eating me in the seers then making him a puppet killing the others. Kissing him I went to lift his legs and he let out a painful groan. "Puppy you started cutting again?" he shook his head. "I-I never stopped," he said looking ashamed. Trying to get to class I stopped him. "Skip one day. For me?" I said kissing his neck. "I can try and get the car keys from Belch."

In the car, he sat on top of me kissing my bare chest while I kept my arms tightly wrapped around his naked torso running my fingers through his now short hair. "You like to bite don't you puppy?" he rolled his eyes and started for my neck leaving more marks. "Mmm stop moving so much!" he mumbled starting to kiss my lips.

Getting a tighter grip on him I like his lips asking for him to open which he did instantly letting me have dominance. "Something wrong Puppy?" I asked. "Just tired," he replied kissing me again. I hummed in response exploring his mouth again with my tongue. Moaning into the kiss I sat up causing him to almost fall off the seat.

"You two better not have had sex in my car!" we heard someone say. Breaking from the kiss Henry whined in protest and glared at Belch who just laughed. "Does this mean I get to sit in front?!" Victor asked joy in his voice. Henry let go of me and grabbed the sweater putting it on and jumped in front. "Keep dreaming Vic!" he said only getting an annoyed groan from the boy.

"You misses the entire day of school and you're saying you didn't have sex?!" Belch asked getting a nod from Henry. Driving to his house he got out and started walking to his door. "Wait! Don't leave just yet." I said watching Henry walk in and close the door. "Pat I'm sure your new boyfriend is fine." Belch said glaring at me. "I'm gonna go get my sweater back anyway," I said getting out of the car walking to the house.

Henry stood still in the entrance of the house shaking visibly. Oscar was walking around shaking his head breathing heavily. "Hey, Pat the door locked?!" Victor yelled I only shook my head getting him and Belch to run over.

"Why the fuck are you like this?! You are a damn mistake and I think it's about time I got rid of you!" Butch yelled slapping his son across the face. "You gotta lot of nerve coming home wearing a faggots sweater! Coming home your hair like that! You are a failer!" he yelled again.

Victor had covered his mouth his eyes wide and Belch looked ready to kill the man. "I thought Henry said the beating stopped?!" Victor whispered. "He lied. He told me they just weren't as bad." I replied trying to figure out how to get in without him getting hurt more by my presents. "Clearly they aren't as good! They seem to be worse! What are you doing just standing out here?! You are his boyfriend!" Belch said also in a quiet tone knowing the gravity of the situation. Opening my mouth I stopped hearing Butch speak again.

"I never should have stopped you from killing yourself!" he growled causing me to snap. I opened the door and ran to Henry grabbing him and pushing him over to Victor who held him. He looked between all of us confused but didn't fight back. "Oh so now the faggot needs some protection, does he?! I'll shoot him right here and not give a shit what happens!" he yelled pulling out a gun pointing it at Henry.

"Butch your drunk!" Belch yelled trying not to start a fight. Glaring he pulled the trigger and Henry let out a scream of pain falling to the floor holding his side which was now bleeding. "You asshole! You shot your own son!" I yelled swinging at him. Stumbling back he held his face and pointed the gun at me and Belch but Victor grabbed it from him pointing it at him. Vic's hands were shaking but he tried to steady them. Butch growled and lifted his hands ready to hit one of us but he didn't.

Henry had his arms wrapped around his father as if trying to stop him, tears rolling down his face. "Please." he sobbed quietly as his father looked at him stunned. "Please no more pain! Just one day without any violence. Please father. I don't want this life anymore so please stop!" he begged his voice only full of sincerity. Butch sighed and turned around to fully face his son who was still bleeding out. "Sometimes. You can be so much like your mother. Which is why I stopped you from killing yourself. You don't have the heart of a killer. Victor!" He said getting the boy to jump.

"Give me my gun! Get the first aid kit in the kitchen. Huggins, Hockstetter! Start getting Henry's things. First thing tomorrow you're moving out." Henry's eyes widened and he smiled hugging his father who stepped back and hesitantly hugged back. "I might as well be a good father once in my life!" he mumbled pulling away and leaving. Victor grabbed henry and pulled off the sweater and shirt and started mending at the gunshot.

"I think I might need to see a doctor," he mumbled glaring at his side. I walked over to him and sighed in relief seeing him smile a little. "Your sweater kinda got a little bloody. Sorry." he laughed. I shrugged and hugged him. "HEY! Stop moving! Patrick! I'm trying to mend his wound and you aren't gonna become a Disney princess and sing away the blood!" Vic hissed getting me to hold my hands up in surrender.

"Henry! What do you want me to pack?!" Belch yelled form the boy's room. Henry looked over his shoulder and slapped Victor away getting a glare from him. "I'm not done patching you up!" he growled getting a shrug from Henry. "NO! I'm going to mean you up then you can walk around then you can sit in a hospital bed!" Victor said grabbing the leader. "Okay mom!" he said rolling his eyes.

"Okay there!" Victor said after a few minutes. Henry shot up and ran to his room. "I NEVER SAID YOU COULD FUCKING RUN AROUND!" Victor yelled after him knowing his friend would ignore him. "You better listen to Victor before he hurts you more," I said holding Henry close to me. "Pine Tree can I stay with you?" he asked kissing my neck. "Yea I suppose you could spend a few nights over at my house." I joked getting him to chuckle a little.

"Thanks, Pine Tree." he smiled. I rolled my eyes and kissed his forehead. "Whatever Puppy."

#it incorrect quotes #henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #henry x patrick #patrick x henry #bowersgang #henrybowers #bill denbrough #losers club #henpat #my own work

87 notes · View notes

pkg4mumtown · 3 years

Text

Signs of Attachment (Ch. 3)

Summary: Having an auditory processing disorder never slowed you down, but it mean you were confined to the Temple when the Clone Wars started. Will the frustration of not understanding people at times make for a rather lonely existence?

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Pairing: Obi-Wan/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Rating: G (for now)

Warnings: Hard of Hearing Reader, Fluff, Gender Neutral Reader

Taglist: @trash-dino-5000

A/N: Thank you, again, for everyone who’s read. This is the tentative end, but I may add an epilogue at some point!!

Just a reminder:

“Text.” Means someone is speaking.

“Text.” Means someone is speaking and signing.

Text, Means someone is signing.

Chapter 3 - Falling

I mulled over a data pad in my examination room, counting down the seconds until I could run to the mess hall for lunch. I felt an all too familiar signature approaching my door, making me look up before it had even opened. It had been a couple months since that spar with Obi-Wan, but we had both enjoyed it so much that we made a habit of it at least once a week. Though, not as intensely as that first one that left both of us rather sore the next day.

“Good afternoon,” Obi-Wan signed immediately upon seeing my eyes fixed on him. His voice rang out melodically, so I basked in it before it would inevitably become muddled.

My eyes widened when I saw his hair, “You got a hair cut?”

He paused, embarrassed because I’d noticed.

“Yes, yesterday,” he ran a hand through his hair, which was brushed over to the side, his mullet long gone.

“It looks good, I love it, Obi-Wan,” I complimented, his cheeks tinting pink almost immediately.

“Have you had—lunch?” He asked, stumbling over the sign at the end.

“No, not yet,” I stood and stretched.

“Come with me,” he nodded his head toward the door with a bright smile.

“What are you up to?” I squinted my eyes at him.

“You’ll see,” he winked.

I followed him, impressed with his progress every day. Obi-Wan led us away from the direction of the mess hall, toward the entrance to one of the gardens.

I smacked his arm to get his attention, “Where are we going? The mess hall is that way.”

“Patience,” he smirked and patted my shoulder. He led me with his hand still firmly on my shoulder while we entered the gardens. We weaved our way through to the back until we stopped at a sort of clearing. I felt him tap my shoulder before he dropped his hand.

“My Master and I used to—have mid-meal here often,” he explained.

“It’s beautiful, Obi-Wan,” I sighed in awe at my surroundings. I had been in the gardens hundreds of times but never in this specific spot, hidden just for Obi-Wan and his Master. I looked down, seeing a small blanket, just barely big enough for us to sit on, and lunch already spread out for us, my head snapping to him in question.

“You planned this?” I questioned.

“Yes,” he signed, then waved his hand for me to sit down. “An excuse to get you alone, nothing compares to conversation.”

“I agree.”

We sat facing one another so signing would be easier, our legs crossed and knees nearly touching each other. The food was off to the side of us for us to grab. As we dug in to the food he had brought, my involuntary sigh of happiness at finally being able to eat made him laugh softly, something so much easier to hear here where it was relatively quiet and low distraction. I waved my fingers up and down at him to get his attention as he looked off elsewhere.

“Obi-Wan, did you make this?

A laugh bubbled from his lips and his head shook, “Stars, no, ask Ana—kin, I can’t cook.”

I felt a smile tug my lips as I watched him stumble over fingerspelling, “That’s not good!”

He just shrugged, “He survived.”

“How is your Padawan?” I wondered, not having seen him in a couple weeks.

“He was knighted,” Obi was signed, mimicking the cutting of a Padawan braid with his fingers behind his ear.

My eyes widened in shock, “That’s amazing, Obi-Wan, congratulations!”

“Thank you,” he signed, then bowed his head.

He furrowed his brows and opened his mouth, “What does this mean?” He asked and mimicked a sign I had just used.

My cheeks burned a little at having to explain it, “It’s your name.”

“But, my name is signed,” O-B-I- — -W-A-N? He finger spelled his name.

“Yes, you’re right, but see how long that took?” I raised my eyebrows at him.

Yes, “It was a lot,” Obi-Wan half signed and half spoke.

“Of course, if it’s okay with you, I shortened it to that. It’s just your hand making an ‘O’ and a couple swipes to your jaw,” I explained and demonstrated it again.

“That’s so much easier,” he repeated the sign. “Why here, though?” He asked, gesturing to his jaw.

“Um, your…beard,” I stuttered slightly.

“Interesting,” Obi-Wan murmured, running his hand over said beard.

I stared at the way his fingers sifted and twisted in the hair. I snapped myself out of a trance and continued on explaining.

“Usually, personal signs like that have your initial and something distinctive about you. Something you wear, your favorite animal, your occupation…”

“I see, so what would Anakin’s be? Because spelling his was exhausting, too,” Obi-Wan chuckled. I smiled involuntarily at the sound of his laughter, not always able to hear it so clearly in our brief passings.

“You’ll get better at it in time,” I nudged his knee with mine and finger-spelled “Anakin” quickly.

“That’s not fair,” he nudged back.

“Well, Anakin has a scar, right? That’s identifiable, so maybe this?” I made an “A” and drew a line down over my right eye with my thumb.

“That’s…genius, how did I not think of that?” Obi-Wan sighed.

“It can be hard to come up with them sometimes,” I shrugged.

“What did you use for Master Plo?” Obi-Wan wondered.

The words decided, then, to muddle together making me look at him strangely, Repeat, I signed to him.

“Sorry, what sign did you use for Master Plo,” he repeated and added sign.

“I made a ‘P’ with both hands and did the gesture for teacher, pretty much,” I demonstrated it for him. “It got the point across as him being my teacher. Similarly, he made my initial and did the gesture for student for me.”

“Clever, though you’re not my student, so what would you use now?” His hand made its way back to his beard, letting his fingers smooth over the chin area. And he wondered why I chose that area for his name.

“Mmm…the closest thing we have to ‘healer’ is ‘doctor’ so maybe…” I trailed off as I formed my initial with my dominant hand and tapped the inner part of my wrist on my non-dominant hand with that palm facing up. “I’d never really needed it before, but that works pretty well.”

I watched Obi-Wan repeat the sign a few times to commit it to memory.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he signed.

“Nice to meet you, too, Obi-Wan,” my shoulders jumped with laughter.

“How long do you have left on—your break?”

“Thirty minutes,” I answered after checking my comm for the time. I groaned and let myself fall backwards, my feet unfolding to land on either side of Obi-Wan. Most of my body was now in the grass behind me, not that I minded.

“Hey, you can’t nap, I can’t sign if you’re laying down!” Obi-Wan protested at my dramatic gesture.

“Relax, Obi, you’re doing well,” I rolled my eyes.

“But I’d like to get practice in!”

“We’re you a master’s pet? Because you sound like one. Oh, who am I kidding, of course you were,” I closed my eyes and rested my hands on my stomach.

I felt Obi-Wan move next to me and lay down, “I resent that.”

“But, was I not correct?” I opened my eyes and turned my head in his direction, seeing his head propped on his hand and looking down at me.

All he did in response was squint. Obi-Wan huffed and laid on his back, playfully bitter about not being able to practice, as if he hadn’t set up a whole lunch date. His hand fell into the grass, softly picking at the blades while the other rested on his chest.

“Obi, huh?” He commented turning his head slightly to raise an eyebrow at me.

“Sorry,” I murmured back, letting a hand slide off my stomach and fall into the grass, my pinky landing on his.

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“Your name is just so tedious that I have to shorten it in speech and sign,” I stressed the “and” by poking the back of his hand with my index finger.

“Yes, well I didn’t choose it, dear.”

“‘Dear’? How old are you?” I snorted.

“Our Temple Days are only five months apart, don’t insult me!”

“Says the man with gray hairs,” I mumbled.

“You’re insufferable. It’s a wonder I don’t have more, now,” he ripped a few blades of grass and used the force to fling them at me.

“You’re the one who invited me,” I sent the grass back at him, hearing him bat the grass off his face with his other hand.

I felt his hand shift under mine, taking it as a sign for me to move my hand, but as soon as I did his palm turned up and grabbed my hand back. I felt a blush rising up my neck, that I could probably pass off as a reaction to the grass, but probably not well. I could feel the contentment he was pushing through the force where our hands met, only making my blush rise faster.

What in the world was he doing?

He settled his hand when he was sure I wasn’t going to take mine back and let his fingertips barely pass through mine. Enough so, that if I squeezed my fingertips together just slightly, I could feel his next to mine.

“Why are you learning BSL, Obi-Wan?” I blurted out.

I did my best to shield my feelings, especially since we were touching, but I couldn’t help wondering why he was doing this. In the back of my mind, I knew it was for me but the fact of the matter is he was a model Jedi. He had no business growing so close to me these last seven months, learning a whole new language for me, and quite literally holding my hand in this moment.

I was too nervous to turn my head all the way but saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed anxiously. I could no longer feel contentment though his hand, but a nervous, vibrating energy instead. Obi-Wan’s fingers slipped entirely passed mine, lacing our fingers together purposefully.

I could read into it without him saying anything, but I was not going to be the reason one of the Order’s greatest Jedi would be expelled, or worse, fall to the dark side. Not that I was entirely without fault here, either. I had definitely fallen victim to attachment toward him, as well; hard.

“Obi-Wan, I can’t d—,” I moved to sit-up, but Obi-Wan sat up faster.

Please, wait, he let go of my hand very briefly to sign.

“Not now, I—.”

Please.

I could see the urgency in his eyes and hear it desperately in his voice as he plead with me, so I paused my hasty exit.

You’re—important to me, he signed slowly, foregoing speech because of the topic, trying to figure out what he wanted to confess as he went.

This isn’t good, Obi-Wan, the Council—

—Can’t understand BSL, he interrupted.

No, but they can read the force. You forget my old Master is also on the Council, I let my arms flop down in frustration.

I’m on the Council, too, now, or have you forgotten? He challenged with a playful twinkle in his eye.

Regardless, they are very set in their ways and my shields aren’t as impeccable as yours, my signing was more erratic than normal, his eyes tracking everything and trying to understand as quickly as possible. If I wasn’t so terrified, I would have said it was good practice for him.

I’ll help you, he took one of my hands in his tightly.

I scoffed and shook my head, No.

I quickly stood up, dropping Obi-Wan’s hand, only to be stopped by a single string of signs.

I’ve fallen in love with you, he finally signed, almost defeatedly dropping his hands in his lap. His eyes were downcast, my entire body frozen as I stared down at him sitting on the blanket. That’s why I’ve kept learning, because I…, he trailed off.

I didn’t even try to pretend that I didn’t feel the same way in that moment, he was just brave enough to say it first. I stared at him for ages, in tune with how his signature had wilted ever so slightly during this extended silence. I finally stuck my hand out to him, to which he looked at and then up at me. I waved my fingers impatiently, so he grabbed my hand and pulled himself up.

We stood almost chest to chest, neither of us moving. I held his gaze, trying to bring myself to sign but my hands were shaking next to me. Obi-Wan brought his hand up, brushing his thumb along my cheek. He didn’t rush me but seemed content to just watch my nervous face. Finally, I brought my hands up, his eyes immediately focusing on them out of habit.

I—I’ve fallen for you, too, I’m…sorry. I shouldn’t feel like this, we shouldn’t…, I looked down, feeling guilt wash over me like a tidal wave.

“No, no, no,” Obi-Wan murmured, pulling me into a tight embrace. “Never be sorry, not for this.”

I allowed myself to sink into his arms, the guilt barely subsiding at the contact. At least until Obi-Wan metaphorically opened the floodgates and pushed through the feelings he had kept hidden from me. I gasped against his tabards, a warmth surrounding me and taking my breath away. I pulled my head back to look at him, running my hand over his beard and smiling as he nuzzled into my palm. Obi-Wan let go of me with one hand, taking my hand in his own so he could bring it to his lips. With his eyes closed and a desperate kiss to my knuckles, he let my hand go and dropped his other from around me.

Can I kiss you? He signed shyly, his cheeks reddening ever so slightly.

Pleas—

He barely let me finish the full sign before he was pulling me back into his arms. I had no choice but to wrap my arms around his shoulders as his mouth descended on mine.

There was nothing complicated or urgent about it, just a simple, exploratory meeting. I pulled away first, the location of this scandalous occurrence suddenly hitting me.

“I need to get back to the Halls of Healing,” I sighed as he pressed his forehead against mine.

“Let me walk you.”

I nodded, allowing him to hold me close as we walked until we got to the busy hallways. In the semi-safe enclosure of my examination room, Obi-Wan pulled me close and kissed me again. This time, more urgently than before, his tongue swiping along my bottom lip and making me clutch his tunics tighter.

I smiled into the kiss but pushed him back by his chest, You’re getting too excited.

Sorry, he replied shyly.

I’ll see you later, I signed, punctuated with a quick kiss.

I’ll be waiting, he stepped backwards toward the door until the door swooshed open. I love you, he signed with his back to the hallway.

I love you, too.

With that, Obi-Wan left the doorway, giving me a passing sign for “ILY” while waving with that index finder at the same time.

#obi wan x y/n #obi wan x you #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #gn!mc #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #hard of hearing reader

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allyreactions · 4 years

Text

Dating NCT | Mark

- masterlist requests : OPEN

__________________________

║ pairings ; mark lee x fem! reader

║ genre ; fluffy fluff, smut, angst

║ word count ; 2.4k

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~ A/N : I’ve been so soft for Mark, I just had to let it out. also I think I went a little bit overboard ... I wrote so much. so please pretty please send me your feedback on it because I literally poured my heart into this post. thanks 🥺

~ Admin Ally

* gif credits to the owner *

♡ how you meet :

you first met Mark at the local bookstore

you were browsing through the fiction section, searching for your next read

as you pursued the shelves, you slid your finger across the spine of the books

until landing on the mystery novel you had been searching for

you removed the book from the shelf and added it to the stack of books you were carrying in your other arm

feeling satisfied with your collection, you proceeded to walk over to the lounge area to review the books

you sat down in a large, green armchair and placed the stack of books next to you on the side table

you picked up the first book, the mystery novel you had been dying to get your hands on, and started reading through the authors note on the inside cover

as you were flipping through the pages, glancing at the chapters, someone tripped over your foot

“oh, my bad”

the boy shyly bowed and apologized

“it’s okay,” you replied nodding back

the boy continued on his way and walked over to the magazine section

there he joined two other boys, you assumed they were friends

you shrugged off the interaction and diverted your attention back to your book

about 10 minutes pass by and you’ve glanced over each book you’ve found

you decided to buy the mystery novel and a YA romance novel

you gathered your things before putting the other books back on the shelf

you were back in the fiction section, your eyes scanning the shelves to find the correct place to put away a sci-fi novel when you heard some muffled giggling behind you

you decided not to turn around and focused on finding the section of books that matched the one you were trying to put away

“Johnny, I’m not gonna talk to her” a boy said in a whispered tone

“you’ve been staring at her this whole time, go talk to her!” encouraged another boy, you assumed it was the boy names Johnny

you tried again to ignore the whispers behind you

that is until you felt a tap on your shoulder

you turned around and were faced with a black-haired blushing boy

you glanced at the two boys behind him who were pretending to be inconspicuous, but failing at it

one boy was tall with auburn hair and held a starbucks cup in his hand

the other was slightly shorter with long blonde hair, is that a mullet?

“I um, ..” the boy in front of you spoke

you returned your gaze back to the shy boy

“I uh, my name’s Mark”

you were still very much confused as to what was going on

you didn’t mean to, but the puzzled look on your face must have given the boy a bad feeling because he said

“I don’t mean to bother you, but I um .. I think you’re really cute”

his ears were bright red and he had trouble looking you in the eye

he was so nervous

it’s charming

“I promise I’m not a bad guy, but um, would you lie to go on um ... a date with me?”

♡ first date :

you guys had been talking for a few days leading up to your date

Mark wanted to make sure you didn’t think he was some sort of weirdo for asking you out in Barnes and Noble

and he wanted you to at least get to know him before going out

and the two of you discussed your schedules and were able to set up a date and time for the two of you to go out

and Mark, being the gentleman that he is, decided to take you to a restaurant for your first date

he wanted to keep things sort of traditional and classy and make you feel special

he’s a softie like that

he really wanted to impress you by dressing nice in a blazer and dress shoes

he wanted to prove that he’s more than just the nervous, giggly guy you found in a bookstore

ugh im so soft

anyway, Mark picks you up and you two head to the restaurant together

once you’re seated at your table, the waiter takes your orders for drinks and appetizers

once she leaves, there’s nothing but silent tension

Mark’s hand flies to the back of his neck, nervously fildeling with the hair behind his head.

“you look really nice” he said, his voice was low

you could sense the anxiousness by his tone

“thanks, you look really nice too” you said, returning the compliment

there was another long pause

“how are your books? I.. I mean the ones you bought last week” Mark asked, he was making an effort to start a conversation

the two of you had no problem talking over text, but the both of you are clearly nervous around each other

was it because both nervous and socially awkward? or was it the sexual tension?

who knows

eventually the awkwardness subsided sort of

Mark was still visibly nervous

he kept rubbing the back of his neck and would stutter every so often

it was cute that he was nervous

but it’s all part of his charm

I mean, that’s the reason you agreed to go out with him in the first place

alright, back to your dinner

you were able to have a decent conversation with him

the two of you discussed your family and friends, your hobbies and interests

nothing too wild

but the whole time, Mark listened to you intently

he would ask questions, furthering your conversation

he seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you and learning about your interests

it was refreshing and sweet

every so often, he would crack a joke

and they were always so cheesy and dorky

but it was cute, so you laughed along

after your meal, Mark had offered to walk you home before it got too late

he wanted to make sure you got home safely

when you arrived at your doorstep, the two of you exchanged goodbye’s

“I had a good time tonight” you said

“I’m glad, so did I” Mark smiled back shyly

you placed a soft peck on his cheek

his cheeks flushed pink and the tip of his ears turned bright red

“Good night beautiful” Mark said, taking ahold of your hand

he leaned in and gently kissed your forehead

♡ living together / couple stuff :

everyday with Mark is an adventure

and I mean that in the best way

Mark is always full of surprises

sometimes he’ll be sitting in the living room and just start strumming his guitar and sing soft ballads and his voice would echo through the house

or you’ll be fixing dinner for the two of you in the kitchen and you’ll hear his infectious laughter from the living room

you and Mark have tons of inside jokes

he’s always making cheesy jokes

like even if his jokes aren’t funny

you’ll still laugh along because he’s just that cute and clueless

sometimes he’ll come home and share stories about his day

like he’ll talk about the producers he met with and the songs he’s been working on with them

and he’ll get super excited too

“babe, I can’t wait for you to hear the finished product”

not that that he wants validation from you, but hearing you praise him for his work and his music really gives him an ego boost

who doesn’t want to hear the love of their life compliment them on their passions?

also, you’re a huge inspiration and muse to him

now not every song he write its written about you, but when it comes to love songs on nct albums or a superm album, you’re always at the forefront of his mind when contributing to love lyrics

he loves adding little nods to your relationship in his music

it’s his way of showing his love for you

but it’s not always in just lyrics, he can also be romantic in his actions

although he can be a little awkward sometimes

he’s just a sweet puppy okay? be gentle with him

Mark is a big cuddle bug

he’s kind of clingy when he returns home from tour and promotions

and he wants to spend as much time with you as possible when his schedule is clear

mornings with Mark are an experience

he absolutely loves to treat you to breakfast in bed

but Mark isn’t the best chef

so he’ll either try his best at making you eggs and toast

or he’ll stop by your favorite cafe and purchase a to-go order

Mark loves making you feel special in any little way he can

but let’s talk about the night time

after dinner, the two of you like to cuddle up and watch the newest kdrama episode on tvN or just watch a random bad movie on Netflix to make fun of

you’ll of course have a big bowl of popcorn and finish it within the first 10 minutes of the movie

and when the movie is over, you’ll walk to your shared bedroom

and cuddle up under the blankets and snuggle into Marks chest

because of course he’s the big spoon

and you’ll interlock fingers

sometimes when neither of you can sleep, Mark encourages you to talk about whatever is on your mind

because sometimes you have too much going on and you mind is just so full that you can’t sleep

Mark is super understanding and just offers his ear to you

he’ll comfort you if there’s anything serious going on

Mark is just super supportive and loves having deep conversations with you

he loves how these deep conversations bring the two of you closer together because it strengthens your trust in one another

♡ arguments :

Mark doesn’t seem like the confrontational type

and the two of you don’t fight often

like I had mentioned before up above, you and Mark tend to tell each other everything

there’s not much that you hide from each other

and you guys have such a strong bond that jealousy doesn’t really affect you both

but that doesn’t mean that life stresses can’t affect you

now we all know that we tend to take out our frustrations on the people we love

so I feel like most of the bumps in your relationship could be related to the stresses from work and everyday life

like sometimes you just have a bad day at work

you boss is in a mood and takes it out on you, so you bring home that frustration and eventually take it out on Mark

even though you don’t mean to

another example may be the stress about your public relationship with him as an idol

obviously if you received hate, it might have an effect on your actions towards your boyfriend

you become distant and closed off a bit

the comments say that you don’t deserve someone like Mark, and even though you know they’re wrong that doesn’t mean their words don’t hurt

and when Mark realizes how closed off you’ve been, he’ll try to talk with you about it

of course he won’t force you to talk about things until you’re ready

but Mark can be a little fragile, and the fact that you’ve been distant would hurt him

and when he hears that you’ve been doubting that you’re worthy of his love really hurts him

he’ll comfort you and rub the tears from your face

seeing you cry just breaks his heart

♡ sexy time :

okay, now I’ve said this before, but Mark is a soft dom, possibly a switch

listen, don’t cancel me

I feel like Mark puts on a show that he’s super kinky

and his lyrics from ‘whiplash” and ‘drippin’ are proof of that

but when it comes down to the wire, I think he’s actually kind of nervous at first

sex with Mark for the first time is a sweet experience

of course, y’all aren’t going to jump straight into choking on the first night

Mark is a gentleman

a good christian boy

Mark is a soft dom for your first time

he’s very gentle and he takes his time, making sure that you’re comfortable and satisfied every step of the way

he places kisses all over your body, making sure he pays attention to every inch of your body

Mark pays attention to every moan and whimper that falls from your precious lips

he’ll leave love bites and markings in all your sensitive spots

his thrusts are slow and deep, making it easier for you to feel every inch of him completely fill you

I can’t see Mark finishing inside you for the first time, but creampies are definitely something he’s into

*cough* drippin by nct dream and drop by superm *cough*

he really likes creampies

but once the two of you get comfortable with each other and settle into your relationship, that’s when the kinks come out

I would say that Mark is open to experimenting in bed

and even though the both of you are comfortable with each other, Mark is still slightly awkward when talking about sex with you

it’s just who he is

when it comes to trying out things that you’re interested in, that’s when I feel like Mark would take the backseat

he’d sub on those nights

it’s just easier for you to take control when doing things that you’re interested in

but when it comes to you wanting Mark to choke you or spank you, I feel like he would be a little hesitant at first

he just doesn’t want to hurt you

he’s not sure how strong his grip should be around your throat

he’s not sure how hard he should spank you

what level of pain did you want to receive?

but once he saw your response and heard your begging, he’ll start to get into it

he’ll thrust into you hard and fast, his grip around your throat will tighten

he watches as your eyes roll back in pure pleasure, until you finally climax and cry out his name in ecstasy

he loves watching you cum all over him

I can see him wanting to try out cockwarming, but he’s somewhat nervous when brining it up to you

cockwarming is something the two of you do when you’re cuddling after sex

of something that you do in the morning when it’s cold outside and you just want to cozy up and share each other’s warmth

it’s an intimate thing that Mark’s been interested in trying out, and sharing moments like that with you would be pretty meaningful for him

259 notes · View notes

jaefluenza · 4 years

Text

In Case You Don’t Love Yourself | J.jh

word count: 2,4k words

pairing: Jaehyun x prostitute!reader

warning: suicide attempt, suggestive content, mention of sex, arm-cutting, drugs, self loathing etc

a/n : i didn’t write this to mock or use the idea of not loving and appreciating ourselves, but through this little package of scenario i would like to pass on a message that; you cannot truly love another until you know how to love yourself. be proud of who you are, and not ashamed of how someone else sees you. forgive yourself and seek help from professionals or loved ones if needed. remind yourself every day that you’re not alone :) i’m here with all of u <3

I am very much aware that I am in a place where everyone thought is wrong and sinful. Everyone has to hide whenever they'd want to taste and jump into this particular world where they call it the devil's lair, but I get to taste and feel it almost every day.

Everyone eyes me with lust and greed, but no one ever looks at me with even one hint of respect. I know that I don't deserve any of it, but what about love, appreciation, and self-worth? I keep looking for them, oh, I swear I'd chase them to the end of the world. But my dirty body and this filthy mind of mine are banning me to look for who I really am. And I eventually came to the conclusion that I, a nobody in this big hellish world, do not deserve a single fucking love.

Sometimes, I thank God for allowing me to see the rays of sunshine through the small window in my miserable apartment, even though I'm not sure if He was listening. No one ever wants to listen to any of my prayers. I too, sometimes, are listening to people begging the Almighty, to forgive their sins almost every weekend. But that makes me do a lot more thinking, will He ever forgive me? I don't know, who would I ask?

That was until I met Jung Jaehyun.

Working in a place where I met a lot of dirty old men, some young perverts, and curious male students, I didn't expect myself to find a soulmate in any place in the world. For fuck’s sake, I couldn't even find myself. A soulmate? Sounds needy. But that one night, I didn't even know it changed me for the better.

He came with his two friends. One with long beautiful blonde mullet, and one with astonishing pink hair. Him? Not really that special, just a dazzling golden brown hair. I was so awe-struck by the three of them, and I knew that they couldn't just land in this kind of place without actually getting lost. There's no way that they instinctively came here to seek touch from a woman, I thought. But I was wrong.

"The name's Jung Jaehyun. And I would like to order three champagnes for the night. We're celebrating," He ordered with a gorgeous wink. I took his order, and as usual, I offer the services of the ladies we have here. Surprisingly, they didn't ask for any list just like any other guys did. He chose me. By the means of him, yes, only him chose me. The other guys bluntly said that they weren't coming for the sex, but he was. I immediately said yes and two hours with hell-like sexual tension later, I found myself having fun with the devil with him in the VVIP bedroom.

The only thing good from having this job was you got your sexual needs fulfilled, as any other human beings would say. And the only thing bad from having to be this kind of woman was you never got to find love. Moaning each other's names even though you only heard it like fifteen minutes ago never gives you the kind of love that everyone kept talking about. The lust-filled kisses you'd get every night will never compare to the ones they said will sweep you off your feet. They feel either as rough as if an abuser would grab a fist of your hair.

But that one particular night felt faithfully different. Jung Jaehyun kissed me like it was the last night he would ever see me. Jung Jaehyun stripped my upper top as if he would open a whole new fragile world. He sucked on my body like I am the most precious thing in the world. He made me feel like, maybe, I deserve some love in a tiny space called moment. Hang on, was that even love?

I had no idea, but some ideas did come to me at the moment. Something like adoration? Appreciation? Everything that sounds like love and affection.

And when I thought he kissed me so passionately like it was the last time he was gonna see me, we never ended there. He got my number, and I thought I was just gonna be a call girl.

He did call me two days after that hook-up, and I expected him to request me already naked in a sexy nightgown somewhere in a fancy motel, but no. You wouldn't believe me, but he requested my presence in a small cozy cafe for a lunch date. I remember blinking at the sound of his delicate question, before actually saying yes to him. He replied with a simple, "nice" before telling me when we should meet. And for the first time, my heart beats quickly in excitement.

Do I want to end my life? Yes, sometimes. When I feel like my lungs are filled with guilts and regrets, I'd want to just disappear out of this uncaring world. No one would know, anyway. But life does not work that easy, right? When life would suffocate my little existence, I know I can not just end it. Instead, I have to keep on fighting. As much as how dirty and useless I am as a person, I still have these little rays of pride and hope.

Back to Jung Jaehyun. He took me on a real date, something that I couldn't believe truly happened that day. He paid for the lunch after we ordered some fish-and-chips and two glasses of peach ice tea which felt like a fancy dinner compared to the countless ramen cups I had almost every day.

And, though it may seem strange, we talked. Like, having a good conversation as actual human beings who love to chat with someone under good weather. He asked about how I've been living, and I lied about how I live just fine, even though I wasn't sure if he had noticed the glint of my shaky eyes. He casually informed me about his life, how he lives with other four boys in the apartment, before telling me that he is, as a matter of fact, a celebrity in a strained manner.

I didn't dare to judge him. I mean, who even am I to judge? Everyone would know that I am nothing but a piece of trash compared to what he is. He is far beyond me. And I plucked up the courage to ask him the question that had just popped in my mind with a bitter laugh, "If you're a singer, then why would you be sitting with me here in daylight, and not spending some time singing or slaying the stage like you usually do?"

And he unworldly answered, "Well, because I'm interested in you?"

I know it was wrong to lash out on him like that. I was confused, I was pissed that he said he was interested in me. It's like he was saying that I got to feel this whole new experience, just because he was interested in me. I could never understand why he would be fucking interested in me, while there are millions of women he could just pick out to be his, but me? Hell no.

Though there was a little bit of regret when I unpleasantly ended the date, I couldn't do anything besides shoving him off when he offered to send me home.

Jung Jaehyun was indeed a whole new experience to me. He didn't give up just like that. He might know that it would be uncomfortable for me to receive his text at the moment, so he came again to the pub. I bit my lips nervously when I offered him a drink which felt like deja vu, and he only smiled. "I would like you for the night."

I wasn't ready for the sex, though I secretly crave a second time with him, and he seemed to know that. We ended up at the same VVIP room just like we first met, but he didn't touch me.

I sat down as he told me so, and when I thought that it could be a hint of dominance in bed, he also sat next to me on the edge of the bed. "You're not going to touch me?" I asked. He shook his head, "As much as I want to, no. We're just going to talk." I knew that I couldn't lose to his pair of sharp eyes, so I sighed and listened to him.

"That lunch, I apologize if what I said to you was offending." He paused before looking straight into my eyes. His deep brown orbs dig through my own pair as if he was looking for something hidden in them. "You did not actually offend me, but I was just overreacting."

"May I perhaps... know your concerns?" Oh, how much I love that gentle voice. It gives me reassurance and calmness.

"I was just confused. Like, how come a snazzy person like you, be interested in me who is a literal nobody? I was just feeling like you make a joke out of me. I'm sorry I made you apologize," I explained.

He chuckled beautifully. "You don't have to be sorry. It is not wrong for you to think like that, I wouldn't judge you. But after almost a week of knowing you, you are not that worthless like what you have just said." And for once, I believed in someone.

We continue to seek each other, him occasionally trying to tell me to quit the dark nightlife, and me trying to adjust to his busy schedules. We called each other as lovers, and I could finally say that I found the love I never thought I could find. I ended up quitting my job sooner than I expected, and move into his newly bought apartment one month after we started dating.

But, does life finally give up on hammering me down?

To be in love with Jung Jaehyun would be an understatement. We love each other so much to the point that I started to forget my anxiety and insecurities in awhile. He made it clear to me every day that I am worthy of being myself, being loved, and being cared for. Every time I would look at the mirror, he would get there as quickly as he can, to reassure me that he loves me, for everything I am, and I believe in him.

But is that enough? I don't know. As much as he showers me with love and fondness, he's not home 24/7. He works for our future, as he promised. And those alone times would have me overthinking on the big lavish sofa, am I really worthy of his time? Why would he stay with me, a literal nobody who still needs her pills every night before she falls asleep to keep her calm?

Yes, I never told Jaehyun that I have meds to keep my sanity steady. I never told him that sometimes I ordered some syringes of sedatives to keep my cries away. He never gets the idea of what's behind the reason why I'm always able to smile in front of him.

I don't want him to know that I hate to cry alone, at the thought of being a useless parasite leaving under his wings. I don't want him to find out that I'm just a drug addict that makes him look like a fool trying to convince me that he truly loves me. And those negative thoughts would eventually turn into something bigger, something that'd make me walk staggering into the kitchen, to where we kept our knives.

I always promise myself that I need to keep on fighting, but sometimes, feeling enough was never enough. The more I convince myself that I can be happy with him in this full-of-twist life, the more those monsters crawl onto the back of my mind. I hate being whispered that I'm not good enough for him, and anybody else and that I don't deserve the love I've been dreaming of getting. It hurts, it's killing me inside. It feels like its thorns are ripping through my lungs as I try to slide the knife into my arm-

"What the fuck are you trying to do?!"

Jung Jaehyun opens the door as the exhaustion started to dart away from his body. He expected his lover to be greeting him with those lovely eyes, and a bear hug would be nice. But what he found as soon as he reached the kitchen has made his senses almost flying out of his mind.

She dropped the knife just as she heard the panic in his scream, eyes red from the fear of death. Scattered on the floor, there she is, sitting weakly while coming into a realization that she almost broke her own promise, to keep on fighting. "J-jae..."

Jaehyun immediately runs toward the poor woman. He quickly scoops her into his arms, hugging her close to make sure that she feels safe. His eyes stutter in the fear of losing her, worries start to creep into his brain about what if he was a minute late, or so. He sighed in relief in her ears, whispering a string of "Oh my goodness" as an indication of ease that she's still here with him.

He loves her with all his might, but why would she doubt him?

Loving Jung Jaehyun is not easy, as the journey wasn't even close to that yet. The first step is to love me first, to accept who I really am, and to forgive what I had in the past. Syringes and pills slowly disappear from my life, just after I found out that telling him and a professional my every story would help much better.

I learned how to see the future ahead, with the help of a man whom I'm trying to love dearly with all my imperfections. He no longer promises me things like he used to before, though it sounds so much reassuring whenever I hear them, but now his actions directly and clearly tell me that I'll be alright. We'll be just right. And I'm still learning to believe in myself and to believe in him as well.

I love you, Jung Jaehyun. I love myself, too.

NCT 127 Masterlist

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#nct #nct 127 #nct 127 angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun angst #jaehyun smut #jaehyun fluff #jung jaehyun scenarios #jung jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #nct x reader #jaehyun x reader #nct 127 writings #neowriters #neowritingsnet #cznnet

148 notes · View notes

thefreakydeaky · 4 years

Text

Call Out My Name

Chapter One Title: All I Know

Characters: Negan x Plus Size Reader, The Saviors, The Wives, Eugene

Summary: You belonged to him.Try as you might to pretend indifference, Negan’s very presence has awakened feelings in you that you believed had died with the old world.Is the ruthless King of the Sanctuary still human enough to fall in love?

Warnings: Language, Canon Gore & Violence.

Word Count: 2,930

Careful to avoid making any noise, you pressed down on the stainless steel lever.As discreetly as you could manage, you peered into the communal living space.Sherri and a few of the other wives sat together on the large sectional speaking in hushed tones. Your prison guard however, was absent. You grinned. Dropping all pretense, you stood up straight and let the door swing shut behind you.

“Good Morning.” You called out cordially.

Her eyes gave you an appraising once over. They paused at the sight of the old flannel you had on over your dress.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Negan’s first wife asked sternly.

“Where ever the wind takes me on this fine day, Miss Sherri.”

The remnants of a southern upbringing scolded you for being rude.You knew well that all of these girls had to put up with the boss man same as you,but you couldn’t risk getting caught just to be polite.

“He’ll be angry.” You heard her call after you, but Negan was always angry. So you didn’t let that stop you.

There was no way of knowing how long you had, but you intended to explore as much of the sanctuary as possible. You had been out of the room before, sure, but you had only seen flashes of the place as you ran past.Then there was the mini-mission you went on two months ago to find out what was making Joey late. Once you figured out what day of the week Pastry day was, it was simple.Third day of every week, Joey headed straight for the bakers and stood in line for a good half hour. You left when they handed him the sweet bread and found you could beat him back to the room.That was the most you had seen of the sanctuary since your arrival and was not the best way, you were convinced, to get to know and appreciate the beauty this place might hold.

The Sunlight felt nice for the first few seconds after you stepped out of your building, but soon enough the humidity ruined the moment.

You stayed on the greenery beside the road to avoid burning your feet, following the gravel path to the market place.Careful to avoid the baker’s side of the warehouse, you walked idly passed stall after stall of goods and services.

Your eyes caught on a table of battered shoes. You recognized the pasty ex-alexandrian running the table.Eugene, he was called.You knew this from the stories Tanya told you at dinner time.He was nothing but a blubbering wuss from the sound of it, so you figured you could handle him.You strode confidently to the front of the line and smiled.

“Excuse me?” You found yourself demanding not two minutes later.You glared at Eugene until he looked away.

“You don’t have credit.”

“The hell I don’t!”

“How many more times do you need me to say it?”Eugene repeated a smirk on his lips.

He leaned back in his chair looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“How fucking dare -” You started to shout, your voice ringing out through the warehouse.

Calling attention to yourself was the last thing you wanted to be doing you reminded yourself anxiously. You scrambled to come up with a different tactic.The corners of your mouth pulled up into a practiced grin that you never thought you would have cause to use again.

“My my,” Injecting sugar into your voice, you leaned across the table until you were nearly close enough to touch him.“Look at you! You’ve been runnin’ with the big dogs long enough to do a halfway decent impression, Eugene.”

Eugene’s shifty eyes widened. “You know my name?”

“Negan only ever talks about one genius with a mullet.”You lowered the volume of your voice conspiratorially, “How fortunate you are that my darling husband hasn’t seen through you yet.” You postured, taking a risk. “Maybe, I ought to help him see you for what you really are?”

“He will never believe you.”

“Why not? It wouldn’t make any sense for me to lie about a man I have never met. All i have to do is call into question your history with the people of Alexandria and make it seem like I feel concerned for his safety.”

Metal chair legs scraped against cement as Eugene pushed his seat back and stood.

“I’m g-going out for a smoke.Them shoes better be the only thing missin’ when I get back.” His trembling lower lip killed any affect his wrathful tone might have had on you.

You snickered at his retreat.

Your white dress fanned out behind you as you hurried away brown leather contraband on your feet, eager to begin your self guided tour.

Building after building of industrial rot, a few rusty tin shacks, and a sad row of herbs and spices later, you found yourself in front of the main building itself.

The Sanctuary’s weather beaten concrete face was made of cruel sharp angles. Her broken windows were yellowing jagged teeth.She stared brutally down at you until you couldn’t bare to meet her eyes anymore and turned, walking brusquely away from her frightening visage.

You turned the next corner only to freeze in your tracks.The wet raspy growling filled your ears before the smell hit you.

Walkers

Your eyes swept from left to right a few times trying to count, to keep track and then you realized, that they weren’t coming for you. There was a chain link fence separating them from you.Your brow knitted.They were tied down.They were, for the most part, stationary.Some chained up, some tied up, some stuck through with pipes. It took a twisted mind to come up with such a gruesome thing.

You wondered if Negan had come up with the idea himself.You shook the thought away. You didn't want to know. You made for the only corner of the god forsaken place you hadn’t yet visited.

The stolen too-big boots kicked up loose bits of gravel behind you as you headed for the backlot. Little did you know that you had an audience.Eyes followed your trek down the road from the loading dock behind you.

The field was inhabitted by broken wood pallets, a rusted up old mercury with bullet holes along the side, some old crates, a busted up head board, ruined tires, and tin sheeting. They lay rotting in the grass.Nearer the chain link fence, lay the final resting place for the few men who managed to stay on good terms with Negan until their last moments. Crude wooden headstones marked with paint stuck out in a bad attempt of making a row.

You slowed down as you reached the end of the pavement and waded into the living green sea of grass hoping not to encounter any snakes.The damp blades were staining the skirt of your dress, but it’d be worth the scolding. A long jagged claw snagged at your dress.You cursed. As you pulled it loose, you realized it was a foot and a half of wood that likely came off of one of the pallets.You tossed it aside and smirked.Now that you’d gone and torn the thing, he would be extra pissed. Hell if you were going to get him good and mad you had better do it well you thought, untieing the bright orange ribbon from around your wrist. Negan's latest gift to you. Each time you saw it, it reminded you of who you belonged to. You frowned as you let it flutter to the ground. It may as well have been a dog collar.

Negan was following you, keeping far enough away not to draw attention.He cursed Fat Joey for letting you out.That idiot was going to pay.He grit his teeth as he watched you wade into the tall grass.Flannel shirt or not you were ruining your dress.Where the fuck was he supposed to find you another dress as nice as the one you had on? The sight of you tugging on your skirt brought his eyes to your wrist. He saw you take off your bracelet and let it fall. Did you have any idea how hard it was to come by anything in bright colors these days?Of fucking course not!You were a spoiled selfish ungrateful untamable thing.He was not going to be taking it easy on you this time.He spotted you staring at the barbed wire topped fence and froze.

He didn’t have to imagine you attempting to clamber over the high fence, face full of determination fueled by spite.He would never forget it.Your last attempt to leave made it clear that you didn’t give a shit about your own well-being anymore.Negan cursed under his breath. God help you if you were stupid enough to pull another stunt like that.Yet he knew way down deep inside, somewhere primal, that you belonged to him.After three years and fifteen failed attempts to leave him, Negan had come to the conclusion that he had to do everything in his power to make you want to stay.

Despite the show and the accusations he had made, alternately burning and bashing some person or another, every time you fucked up Negan went easy on you.The second he’d laid eyes on you, he’d chucked his personal rule book out the window. He was afraid that this made him look soft and that burned his pride like nothing else could.

However, women with your body type had always been his preference and He knew, a figure like yours was a rare find these days. He wanted you. Negan wanted you badly. More than anything, he wanted you to want him to fuck you.It was a frustrating blue balls inducing shit show of a situation.Charming women had always come easy to him. It was his shit luck that you weren’t easily charmed. He followed you into the field. His eye caught the shine of the ribbon easily. As He pocketed the scrap of orange cloth, the memory of your first meeting came to mind.

Your hair pulled back into a braid, a lovely face, enough cleavage showing to catch his eye. Your faded jeans had holes in the thighs and your breathing was heavy from your attempt to out run The Saviors.

You looked so darn pretty kneeling before him.You’d had the audacity to meet his gaze. It pissed him off and turned him on in equal measure.Your eyes captivated him.They were burning with resentment, but no tears.Not his Y/n. You didn’t cry, didn’t beg, and didn’t flinch at the sight of Lucille.Not even after he’d dirtied her up a bit.Near the end of his speech,some traitorous switch inside him had flipped.

“Darlin’, You have got a look in your eyes that says you haven’t been fucked right in years.” He drawled smiling his slick easy smile.”Why don’t you come on home with me, I’ll show you how good it can be with a real man.”

“You expect me to believe that a bean pole like you can handle curves like mine? Honey, I would eat you alive.”

He laughed low and long.The genuine mirth startled everyone, but you.

“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.I just wanna love you right.”

“Well, I am sorry, Mister Real Man, but your pick up lines are bad jokes at best and that mouth of yours...” You shook your head in disapproval. “So dirty.”

You were meant to be his. No doubt about it.

“Mmm, there are plenty of good things I can do with this dirty mouth and you are curious to find out, I can tell.”

Negan’s big strong hand had fisted into the collar of your flannel pulling you toward him. You stumbled onto your feet to keep from being dragged. Before you could catch your balance, his lips were on yours.

Unbeknownst to Negan, unlike his bat and savior show, the heated kiss he gave you impressed you.

He nipped at your lower lip and turned back to what was left of your group.

“We are gonna do just fine, Dollface. As for the rest of you sorry shits, You are going to bring me my stuff and then go out and get me something nice.”

His hazel eyes gleamed down at you. “We’ll consider it a wedding present.”

Your exclamation was drowned out by the saviors’ hearty laughter as you were forcefully led to his truck.

From the moment Negan made you a wife, you vowed that you would get away from him even if you died trying. After three years and fifteen failed escape attempts, you had come to the conclusion that making him hate you was the only way out of the wives club.

You rummaged through the crates and found quite a few empty glass bottles. They would do. You put them all in the same crate and carried it with you as you counted your steps. You waited until you were at least two yards away to throw the first one.

Thunk

Wading further into the tall weeds and grass he frowned at the unfamiliar sound.

“Well I’ll be damned.” You murmured to yourself as you bent to pick up another bottle.

You glared at the Mercury, closed your fist around the neck of the bottle, and swung. It grazed the roof, but landed on the other side of the car.

“Have you lost your freaking mind?”

Your shoulders tensed at the familiar deep baritone of your husband’s voice. You stood there clenching your teeth, frustrated with the intrusion.You schooled your features before turning to face him.

“Hey there, Sugar. What are you doin’ out here?”

Negan came to stand before you, but he didn’t ask the questions you had expected him to ask.Perhaps, Where in the hell did you get shoes? or How in the hell did you manage to escape a locked room with a savior standing watch?Instead, Negan swallowed his anger and made himself the very picture of patience.

“I could ask you the same question, Darlin’.” He replied.

You stared at him, curiosity battling the wrath within you.

“Well?” Negan prompted after a minute or two of your silence.

Your thoughts raced.

What the fuck?!Why was he being nice?!He should be letting you have it right now! He should be cussing up a storm!

“Just... keepin’ busy.”You said lamely.

“In the junkyard? Playing with glass? That’s a hell of a thing for a Queen to do.” He murmured.”You could have hurt yourself.”

You were disgusted by how genuinely concerned he sounded and cringed at him calling you “Queen”.For weeks now, you had been working on him, from picking fights, to ruining belongings, to giving him the cold shoulder.Until finally you’d been able to break out again.You wanted him good and mad and Negan was not cooperating.

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Actually, I haven’t been here long.I walked the whole Sanctuary first then ended up here.”You shrugged and made to pick up another bottle.”It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Who do you think you are?”

You should have known his anger couldn’t stay contained for long.

“Beg your pardon?” You snapped.

“I said,” Negan growled pulling you toward him by your shirt collar, “Just who, in the fuck, do you think you are?” His eyes glowered down at you.

“Y/F/N Fucking Y/L/N.” You declared and kicked him.

The shock on his face turned to fury. Familiar though the expression was, Negan had never turned it on you.Adrenaline spurred you into action.You yanked out of his grasp and tore through the field.

“Y/n!” He bellowed.

You didn’t dare look behind you as you pushed yourself to run.

#Negan #negan x plus sized reader #negan x reader #the walking dead #twd x reader #jeffrey dean morgan #jdm x reader

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qqueenofhades · 4 years

Note

if you’re taking prompts (and from that September list which is GREAT) maybe #4 for the lovely immortal husbands? love your magical AU for them btw!! and DVLA of course!

Once again, I must note that I am not actively TAKING prompts, lol, and I reblogged that list several months ago (though yes, it is great). But also... flattery will get you everywhere?

Joe is innocently minding his own business – sitting on the balcony of their rented flat in one of the endless grey tower blocks, gazing out over the hazy skyline of Kyiv with its spires and tangled wires and hills and trolley cars, sketching in his notebook – when the door opens behind him and someone steps outside. He doesn’t look up for several moments, concentrating on shading in the green domes of St. Andrew’s Church just right, until he is prompted by a delicate cough. “Well, my heart? What do you think?”

Joe glances up – then drops his pencil and nearly knocks over his coffee cup (which would be a waste, since it is hard to get most things in 1986 Ukraine). “Ya Allah, Nicolò,” he stammers in Arabic, every other language momentarily driven out of his head by the magnitude of the horror before him. “What on earth have you done to yourself?!”

Nicky smirks at him. “What? Don’t you like it?”

Joe’s mouth is still open, so he shuts it, and concentrates on studying his lover in increasingly aghast fascination. Yes, well, Nicky’s hair was getting long and rather shaggy, since personal hygiene hasn’t been high on their list of priorities while working backbreaking, filthy, days-long shifts to help in the continuing evacuation of the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone and the clean-up and seal-off of Reactor Number Four. They’re taking a rest break in Kyiv right now, but they bus out to Pripyat again next week, and given the gauntlet of real horrors that they are elsewhere running, Joe would not have imagined that Nicky had the desire to inflict this monstrosity upon himself in their precious off hours. It’s a mullet, in other words. And it’s a very bad one. In Joe’s completely objective opinion, Nicky is the handsomest man alive, but even he can’t pull this off. The stringy bits on top, the badly shaved sides with a plastic razor – and that is not even to mention the mustache, often favored by gentlemen in explicit 1970s films. Joe keeps staring like a deer in headlights, in the crosshairs of a barreling fashion calamity. Finally he manages, “Nicolò, absolutely not.”

“Oh come on.” Nicky’s slightly wicked grin broadens. “You haven’t even seen the tighty-whitie shorts that go with it.”

This is admittedly an interesting bribe, though not enough to overlook the – everything else. “What?” Joe repeats faintly. “You want to look like Eurotrash out at the discotheque?”

“When in Rome…” Nicky remarks archly. “What? I said nothing when you had that Afro last decade, remember?”

“That,” Joe says with immense dignity, “is completely different. I am from Africa, so by any measure I have the right to wear an Afro. You are not a creepy extra in a Richard Simmons workout video. And we were working with the Black Panthers, so obviously – ”

“Exactly,” Nicky says. “Just fitting in to the local culture.”

Joe continues to sit there like a goldfish, still shaking his head in numb disbelief. “I can’t sleep next to you like that, Nicolò. It will give me nightmares.”

“Really?” Nicky crosses the balcony and perches on the arm of Joe’s chair, thus to let him appreciate it better at close range. “Isn’t every good relationship about making sacrifices?”

“Love has two faces,” Joe shoots back. “One of them is the face of devastation.”

“Mmm.” Nicky leans in. “Are you quoting Abu Nuwas again, my heart, or just being a drama king?”

Truly, this man knows him far too well. “You’re messing – ” Joe stares at him accusingly. “You are messing with me.”

“No,” Nicky pronounces, face completely straight. “No, not at all. I love it. I think I’ll keep it like this.”

Joe opens his mouth, about to say something else despairing, but stops. Yes, the mullet is an abomination of God’s earth (along with most hairstyles of the 1980s), but if Nicolò wants to wear this idiot look for a moment of levity in what they are otherwise faced with, what harm, truly, will it do? There were four horrible days after their first round of cleanup shifts, where even they were sick as dogs as the radiation worked its way out of their bodies, and the way Nicky looked then – Joe can still see it whenever he closes his eyes, so that mullet-related nightmares might be far preferable. Besides. He is very well aware that right now, there are other gay men losing their partners to a mysterious and unstoppable scourge, that in San Francisco and New York in America especially, the disease now called AIDS (but first known as GRID, Gay-Related Immune Deficiency) is ravaging entire communities while President Reagan sits idly by. Suddenly needing to make sure that any of that is very far away, Joe reaches out convulsively, catches Nicky’s head (stringy bits and all) and kisses him. “I don’t mind,” he says, just in case Nicolò thought he was actually serious. “I may have to wear a blindfold when we make love, but – ”

Nicky starts to answer, but is interrupted as the balcony door opens, Booker starts to come out, sees that the lovebirds are occupied out here, and beats a smart retreat. Even this, however, is not enough to stop him shouting, “Nicky, what the hell is that?”

“See.” Joe looks at his lover with wounded vindication. “I’m not the only one who has questions. Many questions.”

“Mmm,” Nicky says again, sliding into Joe’s lap. “Say that you love it.”

“No.”

“You do love it.”

“I love you, Nicolò. Not the mullet.”

“Shh.” Nicky leans in, and as they kiss, Joe can feel him smiling. “Just go with it.”

(Joe grumbles, but kisses him back, and doesn’t say anything else, and they go back inside as Andy returns from what can optimistically be called a shopping trip, and make dinner. Nicky entertains the entire team with jokes at his own expense as they eat, and Joe looks at him and understands exactly why Nicky did it, made a fool of himself to help them laugh, help them think about something else than radiation poisoning and piles of shot animals, and he loves this man so much that he can barely stand it. And so they go to bed that night after Nicky has removed the scissors and razor and sent the mullet and pornstache to their well-deserved grave, and love does indeed have two faces, and the other one, as always, is forever.)

#the old guard #the old guard fanfiction #joe x nicky #kaysanova #anonymous #ask

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Down with the Recipe, Bake from the Heart, 1/10 (Multi) - Juno

Summary: This year’s Great British Bake Off will see some baking for sure, but also a few surprises. Tayce goes into the Bake Off tent determined to bring the winning cake stand to Wales, along with a few Star Baker badges, but her attention may not be on baking for too long as she gets to know fellow baker Aurora, on the same row as her. And judging by the other contestants, Tayce might not be the only one focusing on something other than baking this season.

A/N: This is a DRUK2 group based on GBBO - there are a few ships! It’s also on AO3 with 12 chapters but I will post here with 10 for ease as the first two and last two will are being done together. No CWs for this chapter! I hope you enjoy.

PROLOGUE - October 2021

It had been Cheryl who had suggested a live react to the grand finale of this season of Bake Off, so the twelve finalists could all gather together, watch the finale, and then the winner’s reaction could be captured on film and put on the internet for the whole world to see. Cheryl hadn’t even been in the cast - she’d been on the previous season - but she said she’d become invested in the season and the bakers so much so that she hadn’t wanted to let them go yet.

And judging by the public’s reaction to her tweet about it, she wasn’t alone.

Pip had mentioned in their group chat that her sister had a big town house in the Wirral, and she’d offered to let them all use it as a base for their live watch. Channel 4 didn’t have anything purpose-built for them, and the filming location wasn’t available, so they’d all jumped at the chance. Plus, Liverpool served as a good mid-point for them all - it saved Joe having to go all the way to Dundee or Ellie having to go to Brighton.

Aurora had marvelled at the amount of space there was once they’d all arrived the previous day. The living room and dining area were one, with a dining table probably big enough to fit a couple of football teams at it; and the kitchen led into the room with an arched doorway. The kitchen itself was enormous too, in highly polished white surfaces that Aurora was terrified to touch with her probably-impure fingers

“Bit posh, isn’t it!” She’d muttered to Tayce.

Pip’s sister and her husband were staying away, and they had the place all to themselves - the twelve of them reunited, with just Blu and Cheryl for company, operating a handheld camera with the intention of sending the finale footage for Channel 4.

As three endings had been recorded back in June, with each of the finalists winning one of the takes, the actual winner’s reveal would be a surprise to all of them, including the three finalists, and ensure no slip ups from the production team.

That didn’t stop all twelve of them worrying. None of them had slept a wink, all of them keeping an eye on Prue’s twitter to make sure she hadn’t accidentally tweeted the winner again. But mostly they’d been together, reminiscing on some of the moments from the season that had made them laugh. All the funny moments, all the tense moments, and one or two viral moments loaded with innuendo.

Not to mention everything else that had blossomed in tandem with nature that springtime.

It had been quite a season. They’d started out as strangers, and now they were so tightly-knit that they hadn’t even entertained the thought that they would possibly be watching the finale without all of them in the same space.

Aurora swilled the glass of champagne that Joe had insisted on pouring for everyone, and watched all of the people she’d grown close to on the season, a peaceful atmosphere in the room as they waited for the finale to start.

Well, not all of them were peaceful. Lawrence and Ellie were being their usual loud selves, jousting with wooden spoons and shrieking as loudly as they ever did - but Bimini was utterly still for the first time since Aurora had met them, laid against Asttina’s chest as they both reclined on one of the sofas, while Asttina raked her fingers through their mullet; and Bimini’s eyes were closed, their lips in a sleepy smile.

Aurora felt familiar hands creep around her waist, a familiar chin rest on her shoulder from behind, and familiar lips at her cheek.

“I can’t believe it’s coming to an end now,” Aurora murmured, her thoughts escaping her unfiltered, as they sometimes did with Tayce at this close range.

“Well, it was never gonna be forever,” Tayce said into her ear. “But we’re all gonna be friends after this, aren’t we! The wonders of technology! Come into the twenty-first century, Rory. We have this thing called the internet, and group chats, and phones -”

“We’re not all just gonna be friends, though, are we?” Aurora replied.

“We’re all just besties, nothing more than that. Rory, I’m joking!” Tayce laughed at Aurora’s horrified expression. “All I’m saying is that this isn’t the end - just the beginning.”

“That’s so cheesy.”

“Yeah, but I’m right, you can’t deny that!”

Aurora let her eyes drift around everyone else in the room.

Tia and Veronica who had barely left their corner of the sofa, hands and legs wound tightly together, both with hearts in their eyes and bigger smiles than anyone else in the room as they chatted quietly, simply enjoying each others’ company.

Lawrence and Ellie, wooden spoons still in hand, making the most noise in the room in delighted laughter as they jousted with each other, almost knocking Pip over as she carried in another tray of snacks to lay on the dining table.

Bimini resting against Asttina’s chest as they reclined on the other sofa, Asttina still running her fingers through Bimini’s freshly-dyed mullet, both of them letting out a contented sigh in tandem.

“Yeah,” Aurora murmured, as Tayce held her tighter, “I guess so.”

——

WEEK 1: BISCUIT WEEK

April 2021

Tayce grinned at the cameras as they panned around everyone. She’d given the interviewer her spiel about how much she’d always dreamt of being in the gingham tent and how excited she was to bring the winning cake stand to Wales for the first time in Bake Off history; and a surprising calm settled in her chest, nerves dissipating, at the genuine warm aura from everyone and everything in the room.

At least Tayce wasn’t in full view of the judges right at the front. That privilege was reserved for two people from London, both of whom looked right at home in front of the cameras, although their names were a mystery for now.

It was all very familiar from seeing it on the telly the last eleven years. Immaculate worktops with varnish that shone like glass; the tent walls decorated with bunting and flowers, and the pastel shelves and adorned with china cups; the multi-coloured KitchenAids ready to whisk, fold and anything else - Tayce’s was pure white, while the woman from Nottingham on the bench opposite her had a turquoise one.

Tayce chanced another glance at her; the tight-lipped smile showed a single dimple, and her long blonde hair was tied off her face, but her fingers drummed nervously on the workbench, and she evidently wasn’t as poised as the veneer she displayed for the cameras.

Tayce smiled to herself. It’ll be fun winning this thing.

——

Signature: 24 Iced Biscuits

The best bit of the show when it was on the telly was the banter between Matt and Noel. Seeing them in person, even from a distance away, made Tayce’s stomach bubble with excitement, and she had to cling to the workbench a little tighter to stay upright.

“Well, bakers, welcome to the gingham tent! Back for another season of Prue-Paul’s Baking Race!”

Prue’s sweet smile was complemented by her brightly-coloured glasses and sharp, matching blazer, while Paul’s cool stare lingered on everyone in the room a split second longer than they all would have liked.

“For the signature today,” Matt said, “the judges would like you to make twenty-four iced biscuits. The biscuits can be any flavour -“

“ - but should tell the judges a little bit about yourselves or where you’re from.”

“Where are you from, Noel?”

“Oh, you know, the moon.”

Everyone was laughing, even Tayce; although it wasn’t that funny - but the whole room was dancing with nerves by now, starting to become contagious from the people around her.

“On your marks -“

“Get set -“

“BAKE!”

Once Matt Lucas and Noel Fielding had declared the immortal lines to the room, everyone was scrambling for ingredients from their bags and the fridges.

Tayce was still cringing a bit at the dragon-shaped cookie-cutter her mum had found in some gift shop near the castle in Cardiff. She didn’t understand why tourists would be making dragon-shaped biscuits inspired by their trip to Wales, but for once she was thankful for tourists. Her friend Cara had customised it a little when she’d seen her a couple of weeks ago, by melting the tail with her lighter, elongating it a little, and extending the jaw and ears to make it look a little more ferocious.

“Can’t have people thinking you’re not breathing fire,” she’d said, passing the cigarette back to Tayce, “otherwise they won’t think you’re competition.”

And Tayce had nodded, holding smoke in her lungs half a beat longer than usual, wondering if she cared whether anyone thought of her as competition. After all, it was Bake Off. The last sabotage attempt there had been a national scandal the following day.

The most unproblematic, drama-free show on the telly.

Nothing was going to happen here.

——

“The judges are coming for you next,” one of the cameramen nudged Tayce out of her thoughts, just as she was measuring out her flour, causing it to fly upwards in a cloud “Just a heads up. Oh, sorry love.”

“Right, right.” Tayce nodded, brushing flour from her face. “What do I say to them again?”

“Just … talk. It’s the first episode. Show them your personality.”

“Personality,” Tayce repeated, nodding. “I’ve got oodles of that.”

“Great stuff. And don’t forget to be doing something bake-ey while they’re coming over.”

The cameraman dodged out of the way to make room for the medical team, running to help the woman in front of Nottingham, who had managed to slice her finger on something already.

“Here they are,” Tayce muttered to herself, taking a deep breath and straightening as the judges, along with Matt and Noel, came over to her.

“Morning, Tayce!”

Paul Hollywood was shorter than he appeared to be, and Prue Leith was taller, but nothing prepared Tayce for meeting either of them. Tayce held her breath for a split second, smiling somewhat mechanically to try to mask the sudden heat in her face.

“Bore da, folks! I’ve brought the weather with me!” Tayce beamed, indicating the heaving downpour of rain that was falling outside the tent; and they all laughed politely.

Tayce momentarily stopped concentrating on the judges and noticed the woman opposite her, turning to watch Tayce interact with the judges. And every time she was describing the perfect quality that her dragon-shaped shortbread biscuits would turn out, she seemed to slow her actions, looking up over at them.

The conversation was light, but Tayce could feel the calm authority of both judges before her, making words freeze on her tongue. It only went on for a minute or two, but Tayce was left feeling as if she should have prepared more.

Oh well. What’s done is done.

The ingredients for her biscuits were mixing slowly in the KitchenAid, the gentle whirr of the blades almost lulling Tayce to sleep as she sipped her cup of tea, before she took out the ball of shortbread dough and rolled it out to cut into biscuits.

“Your accent is so nice.”

Tayce looked up from her biscuits, to see the woman from Nottingham had come over, tucking her hair behind her ear, leaving her hand resting at the back of her neck to play absently with the strings of her apron. Up close, the dimple in her cheek was emphasised as a shy smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

“Thank you!” Tayce stood to her full height. “This place doesn’t look like Barry Island yet but give it some time!” She leaned against the workbench, tossing her hair away from her shoulders.

“My accent is … well, it’s just … northern,” she continued with a giggle. “I’m Aurora, by the way. I’m so bad at names, I’m sorry, you’ve probably already said yours!”

“Don’t worry, I am too. I’m Tayce. And if I forget your name, well - yeah, same.”

Aurora’s gaze lingered half a second too long as she tested the name on her tongue.

“Tayce.” Her smile widened. “Nice to meet you.”

——

Tayce was terrible at names. She had no idea how she was going to remember who all eleven of these other people were, especially as one of them would be going every week - the pool of people getting smaller and smaller until Tayce would be remaining with whoever else was any good out of these lot.

As the day went on, she started to pick them up.

She had to learn Asttina’s for one, because Asttina seemed to know everyone’s name from the word go. Asttina was one of the two Londoners at the front, and was the only one of the group who had made a deliberate effort to come round to all their workbenches to formally introduce herself during the bake itself, her demeanour confident but her handshake gentle and light as air.

“Nice to meet you, Tayce,” she’d said, with a cool smile that reminded Tayce of a Miss World competition. “Looking forward to tasting all your bakes!”

She knew Pip’s name too, on the bench just behind Asttina, as she’d turned up in the tent wearing elf ears, claiming they were for luck. Everyone had been staring at her workbench, where she’d positioned a tiny blue handbag with a red circle in the middle, saying she took it with her wherever she went.

“I had a sesh with a psychic,” Pip explained to them all as a group of them crowded round her. “She’s a bit of a local celeb in Liverpool, Psychic Sally they call her, but - anyway, she told me to look for a sign in blue and red, said it was from me great-grandpa - and the same day I walked past one of those handbag shops on Paradise Street and there it was, in the window, 70% off!”

“Definitely couldn’t have been a coincidence, Pippa,” Tayce grinned, and Pip shook her head in agreement, but she had a mischievous glint in her eye and Tayce wasn’t entirely sure how serious she was about the whole affair.

Ellie’s name too had become familiar, because of the amount of times the show’s medics would groan it when she managed to hurt herself on something that episode. Ellie herself had been quiet most of the day, seemingly a little shy and evidently the youngest in the room; but she’d bounced on the balls of her feet at meeting Matt Lucas, garbling something about her and her brother doing all the impersonations as kids.

The soft-spoken woman in front of Tayce was called Cherry, and Tayce had found that out because she’d pointed it out to everyone when she put cherry flavouring in her biscuits.

“Does that actually, y’know, work as a flavour?” Tia had asked her when she was explaining it to them.

Tia was another name that Tayce knew, mainly because the woman was so tall and striking. She looked like she’d come straight off a catwalk and wandered into the Bake Off tent by complete accident on her way to London Fashion Week, happening to become covered in flour in the process.

Cherry had huffed. “I don’t know, but you eat cherry-flavoured things all the time! What could go wrong with putting it in biscuits?”

Tia grimaced. “Wait. Have you … never put cherry flavouring in biscuits before? Didn’t you practise at home?”

Tayce couldn’t help but feel a twinge of mirth as she watched Cherry chew her tongue, her cheeks flushing, but her jaw set obstinately. “I know what I’m doing. I can do this.”

“You haven’t even practised this bake? Okay. So how late do the trains run from here to Newcastle?” Tayce had asked Cherry, and Aurora had doubled over in wheezing laughter as Cherry had folded her arms.

“Darlington. Darlington, not Newcastle. And there’s been trains there for nearly two hundred years, love.”

That had just made Aurora laugh harder, clutching her stomach and shaking in silent giggles, leaning on Tayce as Tayce had led her back to her workbench and let her wipe the tears from her eyes before continuing with her biscuit dough.

That was the most important thing Tayce had learned so far in the tent. The woman from Nottingham opposite her was Aurora, and Aurora lit up the whole bench.

When the judges had stood with her earlier, she’d cooed about how much she adored baking everything for all her family - making fairy cakes for charity bakes for work, birthday cakes for her family, tipsy cakes for her best friends for their birthdays, or anniversaries, or whenever they were just feeling crap.

From the smile that she couldn’t hold back, Tayce knew that Aurora was the only person in the room who meant it when she said that she loved baking.

——

“One hour break, folks, and then filming starts for Technical, okay?”

The first bake was over, and Tayce’s shortbread biscuits shaped like dragons had gone down pretty well with the judges. She wasn’t sure if she’d had the best feedback, her nerves kicking in and blocking out most of the other contestants’ comments; but she thought she’d done enough for this round at least.

One of the producers herded them like sheep - or maybe cats, judging by how Ginny had gone chasing after a squirrel they’d seen - back into Norton Hall where they were all staying for the weekends while filming was happening. It was a huge, Georgian manor mouse with ceilings touching the clouds, far more halls than were necessary, and so many excessive bedrooms that each contestant had a room each.

Tayce had half-expected four-poster regal luxury as she’d opened the door to her own, twice the size of her room in her flat; but no such luck - it was furnished sparingly, and all the beds were normal. A small double, she noted. Not that she was likely to get lucky with these master bakers, but a woman could dream.

The floorboards creaked as she crossed the room and flopped backwards onto the bed, gazing at the ceiling, the elation sending a shiver through her skin as she realised again that she had made it to Bake Off.

The Bake Off!

They weren’t meant to change clothes between takes unless they’d made a huge mess with the food, so Tayce just retouched her eyeliner and went back down to the communal room, where most of them had gathered back in the group, polite conversations carrying on amongst relative strangers as they sampled each others’ biscuits.

What a surreal scene.

A group of almost strangers, half of their names unfamiliar, and she was meant to discuss baking with them all.

“Alright, babs?” She heard someone pushing a plate in front of her. “My name’s Ginny, Ginny Lemon, and if you don’t like lemon, well - just skip my biccies, alright love?”

“No, lemon is great,” Tayce forced a smile, taking one of Ginny’s biscuits. “Thanks hun.”

“You’re welcome! Which ones did you make - wait, I remember, the Welsh dragons?”

“Now how did you guess that one?” Tayce raised an eyebrow at them. “My mum’s idea, she was like, do it for the Welsh! So of course she found a dragon-shaped cookie cutter from somewhere. One of the tourist shops in Cardiff. Tourists love dragon biscuits apparently.”

“Oh I know love, I know - speaking of weird biscuits, have you ever tried a Worcester sauce biscuit? I don’t recommend it if you haven’t, but have you?” Ginny shook their head, tutting. “Tastes like shit! Waste of biscuit. Waste of Worcester sauce too, though. Anyway, Pip’s looking lonely without me. Nice to see you!”

And Ginny fled from Tayce’s arm, scurrying back over to Pip. Tayce tasted the biscuit, bracing herself for Worcester sauce, blinking with surprise to find it was actually pretty good, the lemon flavour really tasty, and finding she wanted another.

Most of the rest of the biscuits were arranged on a bench at the back. Tayce picked up another of her own and went down the line, eager to see which had depleted the most.

Gravestone biscuits were the biggest shocker for her - two different sets of biscuits were there, iced to resemble gravestones, mostly untouched - but Tayce politely picked up the better-looking of the two and found a lovely chilli kick to it when she tasted. But gravestones weren’t the only common theme - two different rose patterns were there, one set iced in different shades of pink, and the other with a deep red icing. The pink roses were almost all gone, and Tayce took the second-to-last one, enjoying the raspberry flavour, and grabbing one of the other roses to go.

Tayce peered around the room at the other contestants from her vantage point at the table. Most of them had dropped into twos and threes - with twelve people it was bound to happen - chatting amongst themselves, quietly and politely for the most part, although the two Scottish women in one corner were laughing as if they’d known each other for years.

Eventually, she joined Aurora, who was talking to someone whose white-blonde hair and pencil-thin eyebrows looked very familiar …

“Joe Black,” she said, extending a heavily-tattooed hand to Tayce, whose stomach flipped upon hearing the name.

“You’re - on Instagram, that woman -“

“My internet infamy precedes me, but in that case I hope so too do my bakes, and of course my sense of fun.” Joe’s voice was theatrical, her gestures affected; but her smile was warm, and Cherry looked as enamoured with her as Tayce was feeling.

“And who wins the biscuit version of the wars of the roses?” Joe continued, pointing down at the two rose-shaped iced biscuits on Tayce’s plate. “Lawrence, or Veronica? I must say, the amount that Veronica worried about her own bake, that time probably could have been spent thinking up a better biscuit flavour than rosewater, don’t you agree?”

Tayce glanced at Veronica’s biscuit, then up at Aurora. “Does it taste that bad?”

But before Aurora could answer, they were interrupted by “Alright, babes! How’s it hanging?”

The woman joining them had rich violet hair scraped off her face into a bun at the crown of her head, and an intense green stare. Tayce took the hand that was extended to her, finding a firmer handshake than Asttina’s, trying to follow the stream of words from this woman’s mouth.

“I’m Lauren, but you might as well call me Lawrence, that’s all Ellie’s been calling me all day, thinks she’s fucking hilarious, and I’ve not really met any of you yet because, you know,” Lawrence paused for breath, waving her hands, “baking contest, ooh I’m not here to make friends, et cetera, but now that we’re all here and we’re not baking right now, I thought I’d better find out who everyone is! Are you the one who made the dragon biccies?”

“That’s me, baby!” Tayce grinned. “Bore da, bitches!”

“See, I knew you were Welsh, and there Ellie was trying to convince me the dragon biccies were by someone who just really liked Puff the Magic Dragon, she owes me a tenner now - and you’re - oh wait, I know you!” Lawrence wagged her finger at Joe, whose expression didn’t change apart from the slow blink. “That Instagram video!”

Joe fixed Lawrence with a stare. “Yes, that Instagram video; I know that precedes me, but I hope by the end of this competition that can be eclipsed by my culinary skills.” Her voice still kept the throaty drawl, but Tayce was starting to sense her irritation at the association.

Cherry had already offered her hand to shake, and Lawrence took it. “Alright, I remember your name, because you put it in your biccies as flavouring! Where’re you from, do they grow cherries there?”

“No - I’m from Darlington.”

Lawrence blinked, frowning. “Darlington, near Sweetie-shire is that?”

“No, it’s near -“

“I’m joking babes, I’m joking! I know it’s - hey, hey Ellie!” Lawrence stopped to shout to Ellie, who had evidently reappeared. “Els! It’s not Puff the Magic Dragon! Where’s my tenner? Hey!” And she was gone in an instant, Tayce turning to watch her chase Ellie as she scurried out.

“Anyway,” Joe continued, motioning to Tayce’s plate and one of the gravestone biscuits, “I’m so glad you’re enjoying mine! I know my sense of humour is a little … ah, morbid, but I didn’t count on being one of two people with this bake, let me tell you that!”

Joe glanced over to the left out the sides of her eyes; Tayce followed her gaze to Pip, oblivious, making herself a cup of tea.

“She didn’t - like, you don’t think she -“

“Oh, no, not in a month of Sundays! But it’s a strange little coincidence, isn’t it? The viewers will love the drama!”

Joe opened her mouth wide to let out a violent cackle, a sound that might have made a shiver glide down Tayce’s spine if she hadn’t been mid-biscuit.

——

Technical: 8 Wagon Wheels

The Technical challenge was the first time Tayce felt her nerves return in a rush.

Everyone had identical ingredients and an identical recipe, but nothing prepared any of them for whipping the gingham cloth from them all and flipping the instructions over. Tayce ran her pencil down them, her head spinning.

On the first read, she recalled nothing.

Focus.

She took one steadying breath, letting go of as many nerves as she could, and then ran her pencil back down the list, jotting down timings and a couple of notes. They only had an hour and a half; precision was key.

On her right, Aurora was fidgeting with her apron, twisting her hair around her finger, before grabbing as many bowls as she could from the drawers and setting them all down ready.

It almost felt like more pressure, rather than less, having no judges in the room - just Matt and Noel, and they couldn’t really interact with the bakers at this point, mostly just talking amongst each other and having to film occasional silly quips for the television interludes.

You’re not gonna get this finished if you keep looking at Matt and Noel!

So Tayce mentally blocked out everything and anything around her, not taking her eyes off her workbench. Instructions, ingredients, whisk, repeat. Oven, timers, filling, cooling, done.

She barely remembered anything else that happened in the room.

As she put the last wagon wheel on the tray to take to the front, she wiped her brow, took a swig of tea, and then heard the immortal lines.

“Bakers! You have one minute to go!”

Tayce looked around the room. Tia, three desks ahead, was looking flustered, covered in flour from head to toe - a difficult feat when you were six feet tall - and Veronica, just behind her, was rounding the corner to help her move the biscuits over to the tray one by one as she spread on the jam and marshmallow fluff. Bimini, who Tayce was sure had finished about ten minutes earlier than everyone else, was doing the same thing for Asttina, leaning over her workbench and talking soothingly to her as they both moved biscuits around.

On the other side, Ginny was rubbing Pip’s back, trying to help her load wagon wheels onto the tray but only succeeding in knocking the handbag to the ground. Ellie broke two of her wagon wheels by dropping a palette knife on them, her squeak causing Lawrence to turn from her bench and put her hands on her hips.

But Tayce felt an unexpected wave of relief when she saw Aurora finishing her own biscuits right on schedule, stepping back with a sigh, rolling her head and her eyes to the ceiling.

They had to bring the biscuits to the front table, and put them behind their respective photographs for blind judging. Looking at the other biscuits on the bench, Tayce nodded to herself in satisfaction. She definitely wasn’t the worst. The photos were all a blur, but there was definitely one disaster, chocolate and marshmallow oozing; Ellie’s broken biscuits; and another tray with a biscuit missing.

It was easy to breathe a sigh of relief for herself.

“Just get into any order,” the producer said, pointing to the stools that had been set in front of the table, “but don’t sit directly behind your photo. Otherwise it just looks obvious.”

Tayce’s biscuits were second from the right, so she bunched towards the left, and found herself between Aurora and Joe. Joe had pretended to trip over her feet while carrying her own biscuits up, cackling gleefully at Veronica’s pained expression as she watched. Veronica, mercifully, had sat as far from Joe as she could.

Aurora was breathing rapidly next to her, and Tayce gave her a nudge with her knee.

“Chill girl! Relax! It will be fine!”

Aurora nodded, but said nothing, focusing on trying to breathe at a normal rate once again. Tayce could practically hear her heart hammering. She nudged her again playfully, and Aurora nudged her back, taking a deep breath out and seeming to calm from then.

Once Prue and Paul were back, Tayce grew a little sleepy. The judging went on for much longer than on telly, and tent was hot from all the baking and warm bodies, plus Aurora’s knee jogging rhythmically was enough to make her feel a little drowsy. Her biscuits were second to last, and Tayce wasn’t really focusing on any of the other critiques as they went down the line, not even those of the two women on either side of her.

She hated tents. They reminded her of camping. This one wasn’t like any of the camping tents, propped by firm wooden walls and decorations but it still reminded her of trips to the Gower when she was at primary school. And thinking of the Gower made her think of day-tripping to Tenby, where the air was hazy with salt and fresh fish, and the sea was far too cold as they skimmed stones, watching them bounce once, twice, three times …

A nudge at her side from Aurora brought her down from her reverie; blinking, Tayce saw the judges had reached the biscuits behind her photo, looking up expectantly to see who would claim them.

Oh, yeah. It’s the Technical, and I’m here to be judged.

She raised her hand, realising that she’d been in a dream so long that she didn’t even know what place the judges had called her for.

“Tayce - good flavour, biscuits had a good crunch, and the chocolate has set well; it just wasn’t quite filled enough.”

Nodding and smiling, she waited for them to move on to the next person before she leaned over towards Aurora, muttering from the corner of her mouth “Where did they put me again?”

But before Aurora could answer, Paul spoke up. “And in second place, we have -“

“You came third, you bitch!” Aurora whispered, her mouth open in awe, and she looped her hand into Tayce’s and squeezed. “How do you do it? You always look so put-together! Not like - Miss Second-Place down there.”

Tayce glanced at Veronica, right at the end of the line of bakers on their stools, whose hand was raised to claim second place. She was nodding earnestly at the praise, but she still wasn’t smiling, her lips tight and her other hand still quivering a little in her lap.

“That means that first place goes to - Asttina!”

But Aurora hadn’t let go of Tayce’s hand, and Tayce was suddenly more aware of that contact than whoever the winner was, even as she slowly drew her hand away for the polite applause that followed.

“Where did you come?” Tayce asked her in a whisper.

“Seventh. Not great. I over-baked them a little bit,” Aurora shrugged. “I’m never gonna be good at technical.”

——

“Congrats on coming top of Technical!” Tia clapped Asttina on the back as they came back into Norton Hall, and Asttina responded with her winning smile.

“Thanks, babe. I thought you all deserved a taste of what I can do!”

There was a collective amused murmur around the other bakers at Asttina’s slightly smug tone. Tayce grinned, staying silent for now, wondering what the others would have to say to that.

“Oh, there’s more to come, is there?” Tia continued.

“I should hope so.” Asttina licked her lips. “From all of you lot as well.”

“There’s no need to be cocky,” Veronica said, the first time any of them had really heard her speak. Veronica was tiny, with blonde hair and a nasal voice that was louder than any of them had expected; most likely feeling the sting of coming second.

Asttina shook her hair back. “I’m not cocky, Veronica, I just know what I can do. Read the CV, it’s all there! If you want to win stuff, you need to know yourself. Do you want to win?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?” Veronica retorted.

It was Tia’s snort of laughter that started them all off, diffusing the vague tension creeping into the room. Asttina’s laugh was only drowned out by Veronica’s as she realised what she’d said.

“Is the Pope a Catholic, does a bear shit in the woods … I know, I know. I mean, yeah, I definitely do want to win.”

Asttina shrugged. “Then there’s no point being modest about what you can do. Let your bakes do the talking!”

One of the producers came in at that moment, motioning for them all to come round, and they all bunched together.

“Alright folks, the day’s filming is done, we’ll begin tomorrow at nine sharp for the Showstopper challenges. Until then you’re free to relax and have a nice time - please don’t go into any areas marked as Private, and no excessive drinking, but otherwise, have a good night!”

“Thank you!” They chorused, clapping for some unknown reason, as some of the staff rounded up the leftover biscuits and cleared them away.

“The filming crew get them,” Veronica explained to Tia, “I asked earlier what happened to them all because I knew we wouldn’t be able to eat them all.”

“You know what this means?” Cherry said, addressing them all from on top of one of the sofas. “This is the last evening we’ll all be together. Let’s all cheers to the cast of GBBO!”

She pulled a bottle of something from her bag, and the rest of them grabbed a mug each, sharing out the gin Cherry had brought, and bringing all their drinks together in cheers.

——

Showstopper: A gingerbread sculpture of a place that makes you nostalgic.

The Showstopper was about as broad as you could get. Everyone seemed to have something different in mind. Bimini and Asttina, on the two front benches, looked as poised and confident as they had all the previous day; and Asttina, buoyed by her Technical challenge win, puffed her chest in pride.

Tayce had practised her gingerbread over and over, but nothing prepared any of them for being in the tent, where the pastel colours and the novelty of the bright, friendly conversations started to switch to a competitive edge.

Especially after the Technical, where they had all been ranked. Having a number against your name now, combined with a vague grade against the Signature challenge, meant the Showstopper was the be-all and end-all for some of them.

That was it Tayce thought to herself, as she watched Aurora’s grim determination pass her face every second.

And she wasn’t the only one.

Cherry, on the workbench in front of her, had come sixth; but she’d been much quieter all morning, concentrating on reading and re-reading her instructions, tapping her pencil against her chin and growling frustratedly every now and then.

Ellie, wearing a pair or Pip’s elf ears, was doing even worse. Being ranked eleventh had done very little to ease the nerves she had displayed the day before, and her morning had already started with another blue plaster on yet another finger.

But Aurora was the only person Tayce was concentrating on. Something about the way she’d held her hand … and Tayce was far too quick to let her mind run away without her, thinking it meant anything, when obviously it probably didn’t.

“What are you doing?” Tayce called to Aurora over the chatter of everyone else around the room; but Aurora didn’t reply, her tongue running over her lips as she surveyed the mess that was the butter and sugar mix before her.

“Aurora?” She asked, making her way to stand by her behind the bench.

Aurora was still silent, but the noise from the bowls and KitchenAid she was using spoke volumes for her without her needing to say a word.

“D’you want a cup of tea?” Tayce asked her eventually, waiting for the curt nod from Aurora before sprinting to the tea station, in a tent outside.

When she got back, Aurora had moved up to Ellie’s workbench, and even though her back was to Tayce, she could see her shoulders shaking and Ellie’s hand rubbing her back, before offering her a can of the Monster she always had to have, the label covered in masking tape to escape product placement.

Tayce approached them both to comfort Aurora too, but as she did, cameras zoomed in on all three of them. Aurora pushed them both away and walked out of the tent, covering her face.

Ellie looked from the camera to Tayce and then back again, confused more than anything, and Lawrence, turning from her bench, looked back at them all with a frown.

“What’s going on here? Is she alright?” Lawrence pointed to Aurora, who was busy wiping her tears away in the far corner, with Matt Lucas at her side and a camera in her face.

“No,” Tayce muttered, “and she won’t be while there’s a lens on her.”

After that, Tayce kept half an eye on Aurora as she baked. She mostly ignored the cameramen as they hurried around the tent, taking stock footage of them cutting gingerbread shapes, using their ovens, and decorating, but Tayce purposely kept her mouth tightly closed, and her expression firmly neutral.

As Noel called for ten minutes remaining, Tayce was finishing the detailing of the roof of the stadium. The band were meant to be playing biscuit instruments and there was meant to be a crowd, but Tayce had settled for calling it a backstage pass moment, where VIPs could meet them, and just made models of herself and her friends.

“Time is up! Bakers, step away from your bakes!”

Noel called time, and Tayce took a step back to properly admire her finished product - and really, she was blown away by her own bake. The gingerbread houses she’d made in practise had gone alright, but this one, even in the pressure cooker environment of the tent, had gone almost perfectly, down to the timing of the bakes.

“Wow,” Tayce whispered to herself, “week one is done!”

She took a few seconds to admire everyone else’s in the tent. Some were much better than others. Joe’s looked a little strange - she’d meant to do a wedding scene with the gingerbread church, but the roof was crooked, and the gravestones falling over, not supported by the sticky sugar mixture they’d all used as adhesive. Cherry’s ambitious building was incomplete, and Tayce didn’t even know what it was meant to be.

But Asttina’s was incredible - a beautiful beach scene with a model of a beach hut and even a Ferris wheel. Ellie’s technical slip up was definitely repaired by the pub she’d built, adding fondant banners inside and making the dull gingerbread colours come alive with her imaginative take on the icing outside; while Lawrence had made a theatre, melting jelly babies to create beautiful stained glass in the windows, something Tayce kicked herself for not thinking of.

They all had a chance to leave the tent for a break, to sit outside in the shelter, and to have a breather before the actual judging of the bakes was done.

“I don’t envy the judges,” Joe said, her drawling voice awed, as she took in all of the gingerbread houses from their vantage point outside the tent. “They definitely have their work cut out for them, don’t they?”

“Everyone did amazing,” Aurora nodded, “it’s just a case of who did less amazing. D’you reckon they’ll just take this into account, or the whole weekend?”

Tayce didn’t know why she was worrying. Aurora had come middle of the pack in technical, but had been praised for her Signature, and her gingerbread house - modelled on her Nan’s, she had said - was so prim and dainty that Tayce knew the judges were going to eat it up, and not only literally.

“It won’t be you, chillax!” Tayce reached to rub her hand.

“Who d’you reckon it will be then?”

“Well, they tend to take into account the numbers assigned at the Technical challenge, and the Signature comments, to make the first analysis, at least,” Joe chuckled, “that’s what we see on the television. Who were the bottom three for Technical? I was tenth, Ellie was eleventh, who was twelfth again?”

“It’s - erm,” Aurora pointed, but the name escaped her for a second. “Tia. Tia was twelfth.”

“It’s probably between the three of us, then,” Joe said brightly, “unless something goes … horribly wrong to one of the Showstoppers. And how likely is that?”

As they looked through the panels of the tent, one of the gingerbread houses collapsed into pieces onto the tray it was set on.

Tayce glanced around the other eleven bakers to see whose it was.

One of the bakers had her head in her hands, shoulders tensed, while the two people on either side of her hugged her tightly.

——

“Seriously, Joe, how did you make that happen?” Aurora’s voice was hushed, tense, after the award for Star Baker and the first elimination had taken place.

Joe’s eyes widened as she shook her head. “I don’t quite know - maybe it was just something, spoken into the universe, made to happen.”

“Or maybe it was just gravity and shitty caramelised sugar sticking it all together,” Tayce added.

“Yes,” Joe replied, “or that too.”

Joe, Ellie and Tia had all survived their stint in the bottom at Technical - but Pip, who had come ninth in Technical, and whose Signature had received mediocre feedback, had laughed behind gritted teeth at presenting her collapsed gingerbread house - “More of an Ikea house,” Paul had commented cheerily - which had ultimately turned out to be too hard to bite into and had sealed her fate. Not even the lucky elf ears saved her from the first elimination.

“I was so sure I was going home this week,” Aurora sighed later that night, back at Norton Hall, where everyone had eaten so much of each others’ gingerbread houses that they all felt ill.

“You wouldn’t have, yours was good!” Tayce rubbed her arm. “Relax! It’s done now. Just focus on next week instead.”

“And I can’t believe Prue said she’d like to try a bit of carpet when they were looking at Ellie’s pub,” Aurora said, shaking her head. “Did anyone else catch that?”

“Yeah, I did!” Tayce sniggered. “They’re so innocent! This is just gonna be a load of innuendos all season, isn’t it? Imagine what they’re gonna say for next week too.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s cake week, isn’t it?” Aurora seemed to perk up. “That’s a bit more my comfort zone.”

Suddenly the door opened, and Asttina was led back inside the area by the cameraman and a producer. Everyone broke into applause - this time genuine, not the muted, polite sound that had echoed round the tent in the technical. Asttina had just given her winner’s interview and called her family, and now wore the Star Baker badge proudly on the lapel of her jacket, her grin wider than the Cheshire Cat’s.

“How did your mum react when you said you were Star Baker this week?” Bimini asked her.

Asttina smiled the warmest smile any of them had seen all weekend from her at the mention of her family. “They screamed so loud that you probably all heard it in here. My mum was falling off the sofa, my dad was waving a wooden spoon, my brother was banging on the floor with his feet - oh, it was great.”

“Well-deserved, babes,” Bimini nodded, and Asttina pulled them in for a hug.

Everyone else was clamouring around Asttina, congratulating her on her Star Baker win this week and admiring the badge she’d won - biscuit-shaped, or at least cookie-shaped - but Tayce hung back, exchanging a glance with Aurora, a glint in her eye; and both of them knew what the other was thinking.

Let’s not cross Joe Black. She might make our Showstoppers crumble.

——

ELEVEN BAKERS REMAIN

18 notes · View notes

talluvx · 4 years

Text

Junhao Vampire au

imagine Junhao being vampires

they both have amassed several castles over the centuries

today they’re chilling in Jun’s

Minghao brings wine that’s a few centuries old

they’re relaxing after a long week of being accused of drinking human blood

again

and seriously? like they don’t even want to drink that junk

especially Minghao

like humans have just gotten too fatty for his tastes

but wine never betrays you

and soon they’re both drunk

which is fine because like... immortal, you know?

one of those dusty thingies lands on Jun’s nose while they’re just lying on the ground

and he attempts to blow it off in the most ridiculous way possible

and crashes into a mirror

cue Minghao laughing

“why do you even have mirrors? it’s not like you can see yourself”

“for the aesthetic, Hao”

and Minghao continues to laugh at him

“sorry, ge... you just look ridiculous”

“oh really?”

Jun raises his eyebrows in a challenge

“well, you look absolutely handsome with your hair styled in this mullet. I hope you keep the look for at least the next two centuries. and you’re adorable. freaking adorable. you’re perfect, you move with the grace of someone who’s been alive for thousands of centuries instead of just hundreds, and I could listen to your voice for eternity, and I could spend lifetimes just staring at you. seriously, you don’t know how good you look.”

and Minghao just

👁️👄👁️

let’s save it with an awkward dab!

which he totally picked up from the young locals

what the heck is he supposed to say to that?

and the blush on his cheeks-

completely the wine’s fault

meanwhile Jun is smirking and giggling because like

he totally just won that

and then Minghao breaks out into a bunch of giggles

and Jun’s heart melts

or it would if he had a beating heart

because he could listen to that sound on repeat for a millenia

and then Minghao goes

“you need to give yourself more credit. you’re the most regal person I’ve ever seen, and we’ve had tea with emperor’s in the past. you’re cute and adorable, and I love how animated and passionate you get”

Minghao assumes finishing it with a sense of finality will let him get over his embarrassment at saying such things to his ge

but Jun wraps him in a hug instead

“I knew you loved me!”

“ya! get off me!”

Jun uses his vampire powers and rushes to another room

and comes back with art supplies in a split second

“draw me! draw me!”

Minghao rolls his eyes

but takes the canvas and brush anyways

he may think he can hide his fond smile but he can’t

sorry, Hao, but that’s just the truth

and anyways, he takes the brush in his hand, but when he looks at his ge happily drawing away on a sketch pad, his hands paint without his mind even thinking

splashes of color make their way to the canvas- blues and reds and yellows and blacks and pinks and purples and browns

and he just paints his ge’s feeling

it’s not like either of them have tried to be professional artists before

and technically, he’s still “drawing Jun”

and when it’s time to reveal their artwork

Minghao’s low key

n e r v o u s

whatifhedoesn’tlikeit

but of course, Jun loves it

“but what is it?”

“it’s your... vibe”

and then it’s Jun’s turn to show his work

and let me just say, and three-year-old could draw a better caricature

but Jun is high key proud

“don’t look at it like that, Hao. I just captured your... vibe” 😏

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that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick · 3 years

Text

I've been so excited to write for the Mystic Messenger Reverse Big Bang 2021 (go check out other amazing fics and art in the collection at @mysme-rbb), and it's the first fanfic/art event I've participated in! @madiebelleadventures and I teamed up to brainstorm this beast, so her art is at the very end (because I ain't spoilin nothin)!

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: One day after the end of a work week, Vanderwood surprises MC with some husband-wife baking time—with a twist. Inspired by his agent training, he suggests that they bake as a team but have MC blindfolded. In order to make a cake that's actually edible, she must follow his directions to the letter. All that's left after that is chaos, banter, and spouse-flustering. And figuring out how to actually make a cake.

A/N: Fyi MC is definitely more of her own character than a reader-insert on this one. Also as per usual with me, I headcanon Vanderwood as British, so I tried heavily to align his phrasing accordingly, despite being an American myself. Enjoy seeing exactly how much fluff I can possibly cram into 5k words!

MC sighed happily at the feeling of the wind in her hair as she drove home from work one Friday evening. Windows down, jacket off, music blasting—the air itself felt like freedom. She had nothing against her job—in fact, she enjoyed it for the most part. She prided herself in a job well done, she liked being able to manage a team of her own, and the paycheck and benefits were good. Nothing extravagant, of course, but enough to comfortably support a couple newlyweds.

And that was the real reason MC nearly jumped out the door every day when everything wrapped up at the office. Who wouldn't, with a husband as unfairly hot as Vanderwood? Completely unfair how he could make leopard print and what was practically a mullet actually look attractive. Thank goodness his fashion sense had mellowed out over time, if only a little bit. With Vanderwood's past being what it was, they had mutually come to the conclusion that it would be best for their well-being if he stayed at their apartment during the day to keep the household running. He was very particular about how he cooked, cleaned, and did the laundry, and he handled their finances conscientiously and precisely. Admittedly, she did have to occasionally remind him that as sleek as that new top-of-the-line taser was, there was no real need for it, but that was just part of her husband's charm.

And boy, was he charming.

She truly couldn't wait to get home, past this rush hour traffic. She'd get home and be pulled in for a deep kiss moments after walking in the door. Maybe he'd slip a gentle but insistent hand into her hair. Maybe they'd take it a little further. Or a lot further.

"HOLY FUDGE NUGGETS ON BACON ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME???"

MC swerved to avoid a collision and waited for her heartbeat to settle down again. There was no freaking way she was going to die in some stupid car wreck before their date tonight. A surprise, he'd said. No matter how hard she'd tried to weasel more out of him, he wouldn’t bend. Darn agent training. Good thing it wouldn't be a surprise for much longer. Within minutes, the streets got smaller and quieter as she neared her apartment building. Another minute, and she flung open the apartment door and leapt on her husband.

MC's fantasies were soon replaced by an even better reality when Vanderwood's lips landed on hers. Kissing back enthusiastically, MC wrapped her arms around his middle so tight that a less sturdy man would be coughing for air. Vanderwood snatched her keys and purse and hung them by the doorway, never breaking his focus for a second. His kisses grew slower, but no less fervent, as he smoothed her wind-strewn hair. Eventually, their lips reluctantly parted, and MC broke the silence.

"How did I manage to snag the best kisser on earth on top of marrying the most insanely attractive man on earth?"

Vanderwood smirked. "Good taste, I guess." He kissed her once more soundly for good measure.

"Maybe. Will my insanely attractive husband tell me what our surprise date is now?"

"Perhaps."

"No perhapses! I've been dying waiting!"

"Very well. Start by changing your clothes, because I am not scrubbing stains out of your good work clothes."

"Do I otherwise have to wear anything in particular? That's not a lot to go off of."

"Doesn't matter to me. Now go change before I do the job myself."

"I wouldn't complain."

"This is not that kind of date! Go!"

"Fine, Sir Panties-in-a-bunch."

MC went to the bedroom and took stock of her clothing options. She had to choose something practical that could be easily washed, but she still wanted to look a little cute. After all, it was a date. It was a tough balance to strike. Eh, she could always stick an apron or an old shirt over it. She grabbed her oversized paint shirt just in case before snagging a light pink shirt. Now for the bottoms. She debated on a simple skirt, but decided to go for it. After all, if it didn't fit with Vanderwood's plans, he would tell her. MC changed quickly and weaved her hair into a side braid, slipping a tendril out on each side to frame her face. Mirror-MC nodded in approval. Time to see what on earth her husband had been planning.

She cracked open the door and peeked through before skipping over to Vanderwood, who had made himself comfortable on the couch. His amber eyes widened in interest.

"You have no business looking this pretty for a baking date."

MC grinned. "Ha! I did get it out of you! A baking date sounds cute. What made you think of that? Are you just really getting into the whole house husband gig?"

"It was my agent training, actually." Seeing the puzzled look on his wife's face, Vanderwood continued, "There's a bit of a twist to it, you see. I will hardly be doing any of the actual baking. You, my dear, on the other hand, will be completely blindfolded. You will have to follow my instructions explicitly, or else the result will be completely inedible."

"I still fail to see how the setup doesn't sound like 'that kind of date', but it sounds like fun! What does this have to do with your agent training, though?"

"Various exercises used similar techniques. Many times in the field, we had to follow orders to the letter with no questions asked if we wanted to make it out in one piece. We also did training to be able to operate blindly or in the dark if our vision was compromised. But none of it was as enjoyable as watching a beautiful woman bake a cake by pure trust."

"You're such a flatterer. Keep it coming," MC smirked.

"At least get into the kitchen first," Vanderwood said, handing her a blindfold that looked suspiciously like his nap mask.

"Okay, but if you don't want me in the kitchen until I'm blindfolded, you're gonna have to get my apron yourself."

"I thought I was the one giving out orders tonight?"

"A girl's gotta get her kicks somewhere."

"Such a docile wife I have. Never difficult, never demanding."

"You think it's sexy. Don't even try to deny it."

"I would have filed for immediate divorce if the description 'docile' actually fit you." He stepped into the kitchen and emerged a moment later with the apron. MC slipped it on and, after ducking briefly into the bathroom to wash her hands, covered her eyes with the blindfold.

"I'm at your mercy now. Don't abuse that privilege."

He materialized behind her, winding his arms around her waist. "I wouldn't dream of it," he murmured into her ear before attacking her stomach. MC burst into uncontrollable giggles.

"I swear—!" she giggled "—I swear I'm going to punch the living daylights out of you!"

"You're certainly welcome to try. You know I wouldn't even feel it."

"But I could try. How am I supposed to trust you to give me decent directions to bake whatever the heck we're making if I can't even trust you not to tickle me?"

"You don't. That's the thrill of it."

"You'd better have me make something actually edible for all our trouble."

"That all depends on how well you follow my instructions."

"And how decent your instructions are. Let's not forget that tiny detail," she reminded.

"Hmm, we'll see," The smile was evident in his voice. "Now if we're going to start, we need to go ahead and do it."

"Probably."

He guided MC by her upper arms into the narrow kitchen.

"Fortunately," he said, halting and holding her in place, "we're only baking a cake and not an entire meal, so it won't take an eternity."

"I sure hope not! It's pizza night and I'm already a little hungry!"

He wound his hands around his wife's waist, lightly patting her stomach. "Well, the faster we start, the faster we can eat. I've already laid everything out for you as best I can, so you just have to follow my directions, all right, love?"

"Got it."

"All right, can you feel the worktop?" A nod. "Raise your right hand just a bit...and over…now grab the box with the cake mix, because heaven knows neither of us knows or cares enough to make it from scratch. Got it? Now open it up. The mixing bowl is straight to the left. Go ahead and pour it in."

"Just so you know, if I spill anything, you're the one taking responsibility."

"And why is that, darling?" Vanderwood asked, feigning shock.

"Because you're the one who had this idea in the first place! Not to mention if I make a mess it’s because of your faulty directions."

Unfortunately, MC failed to prove her point, pouring the mix into the bowl and barely spilling a few crumbs.

"Looks like we may not have to worry about that," Vanderwood smirked.

"You have met me, right? You know something's going to get spilled, right?"

Ignoring her, he moved the empty box toward the back and continued, "The milk should be right around where the cake mix was, if you can remember where you just were. The measuring jug is right next to it. Do you think you can pour it in correctly?"

"We'll see, now won't we?"

"There you go. Just try to take it slowly, just in case, and stop when I say so."

MC obeyed, gradually tilting the milk jug until a thin stream hit the center of the measuring cup.

"Brilliant! Now careful, careful, slightly to the left...that's it! Now slow down...almost done...stop!" He kissed her cheek. "That was amazing. Now pour it into the bowl."

MC felt around for the mixing bowl again. She managed to find it and poured in the milk. "Where's the cap for the milk jug?"

"Hm...where did it go? Oh, there it is. Right by the sink."

She batted at the air around her right side to find the inside of the sink. Instead, her hand bumped the side of the milk jug. Vanderwood's hand shot out to catch it, but a small puddle had already sloshed onto the counter. MC's hand shot up to take off the blindfold, but Vanderwood caught her wrist first. She sighed.

"Vandy, give it to me straight. How bad is it?"

"Not bad at all. I caught it before much got out. Stay put for a moment while I wipe it up so it doesn't start to smell or dry up."

"Not to say I told you, but I definitely told you."

Her husband stuck out his tongue at her—one of the few ways he had begun to let himself be childish lately. Then the obvious dawned on him. "I'm sticking out my tongue. I thought you ought to know that."

"Crucial information. Are you done yet?"

"Yep. You ready to get your hands a little dirty?"

"Isn't that expected in all this?"

"That's probably a large part of why you demanded an apron first, yes."

"You would be right about that, also yes. And you're so dramatic. I did not demand."

"Up to interpretation. Reach up to the left of the mixing bowl and just grab it off the plate and toss it in."

As instructed, MC reached over and let out a tiny shriek when her hand came into contact with the soft butter. Vanderwood guffawed.

"I was waiting for that."

MC gasped. "You did this on purpose!" She flung the butter into the bowl with an extra dash of vindictiveness.

"Maybe so. I like hearing your reactions," he purred.

"Don't try to be all smooth when you're being a twit. It doesn't suit you," MC sniffed, then muttered under her breath, "actually it totally works for you but it doesn't make me less ticked at you."

"By the way, don't bother trying to wash your hands just yet. The next part is probably going to be the messiest. I'll go get the bin so it'll be close by for you."

"Appreciated. What's the next part?"

"Eggs."

"Yikes, okay. That's why I needed the trash can, then. And where are the eggs?"

"To your left. You're going to need four of them. I read somewhere that adding an extra egg makes it better, hypothetically."

"You're the one giving the instructions."

"Alright, the bin is to your left, whenever you're ready."

"I could hear the thunk when you set it down, but thank you," MC said wryly.

"I live to serve."

There was silence for a moment as MC cracked the first egg into the bowl, and a soft smile rose on her face like the dawn. "Not anymore, you don't. I thank God every day that you and Saeyoung were able to free yourselves from the agency. I never could have forgotten you even if you hadn't, but I never would have known the immense joy I've gotten to have by being your wife." She sniffed, then laughed. "Sorry for being so sentimental all of a sudden, I don't know what got into me. It's just that knowing how many things could have gotten between us makes me that much more grateful for what we have."

"Ah!" Vanderwood shot a hand out to correct the second egg's trajectory into the mixing bowl.

"Oops, thank you."

"No problem, love. We're a team." He settled against her back, rubbing her arms lightly and placing a tender kiss on her cheek. "And never feel sorry for your so-called sentimentality. In fact, I really think you hold back sometimes. You shouldn't. I know that I used to scoff at these things, but locking out your emotions for job after job really takes a toll on a man. The agency had no room for love of any sort, and I've long come to the realization that every person is hardwired to desire love of one kind or another. I know I'm still unlearning all of my coping mechanisms, and I know I'm still sharp with some people, but with you?" He smoothed a hair back from her face. "I'll take whatever love you can give me."

She cracked the third egg into the bowl and threw out the shell. "I always knew you could be a softie, very deep down. I'm just glad that I get to be the one to see it."

After the fourth egg was in the bowl, Vanderwood directed, "Okay, time to wash up. The next thing is mixing for two minutes. While I love you, I do not trust you to use an electric mixer while blindfolded, so you're going to use a whisk for that job."

"I suppose that's fair. Can you put away the trash can while I wash my hands?"

"Already on it."

"Where's the whisk, again?"

"I kind of put it toward the back, so either be careful or wait for me to move a few things."

"Oh, I've got it. Don't worry," MC waved a hand in dismissal and groped around for the whisk, but her arm was a bit too low, and she dipped her clothed elbow in the plate where the butter had been. She sighed. "What did I just decorate my elbow with?"

"Butter. Try it. It might be tasty," he teased.

"Come on, Vandy, this is not the time. Help me get it off before it soaks in too much."

"Alright, alright, I just had to pick on you a little bit for not listening to me." He carefully scooped off the top layer of the butter with a paper towel before trying to absorb the rest. "I'm going to roll up your sleeves a bit more so that this hopefully won't happen again."

"Well, not until I slosh half the cake out of this bowl trying and failing to mix it."

"You'll be fine. Just stick to mixing the center and bringing the outside of it toward the center so everything gets mixed. But mix it well and mix it fast. The timer starts...now!"

MC held the bowl against her stomach to steady it while she mixed the batter vigorously. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one trying to mix furiously while keeping it all in the bowl on top of being blindfolded!"

"Calm down, you're doing great. A couple drips, maybe, but it's staying in."

"So far, anyway. But that's good, I guess."

"No guessing. It's quite good." Vanderwood leaned against the counter. "We've got a minute and a half to kill. Should I spend it telling you how you look right now?"

"Oh gosh, do I even want to know?"

He shook his head in near disbelief, smiling. "Magnetic. Adorable. More delicious than the cake we're making."

MC cackled. "You cannot be serious. I've got to be a mess right now."

"You act as if that's a contradiction. It's the mess that makes you more beautiful. Is every single hair of yours in place? No. But they fall around your face in the most delicately beautiful way. Even the places where the ingredients got smudged on you somehow add to your charm." He leaned in so that his lips touched her ear, his voice lowering to a gravelly timbre. "Did you know that your cheeks are all rosy from the effort you're putting into stirring? It's unbelievably attractive. And the way your lips press together when you're concentrating? It makes me want to kiss them apart. In fact—"

"Vanderwood, how much time is left?" MC interrupted, suppressing a vivid blush and a shiver.

"Our entire lives," he said, happily ignoring the real question.

"The timer, Vanderwood. How much is left on the timer?"

The sound of the timer going off answered the question for him. "None," he grinned. "I'll go spray the cake pan while you rest for a moment. You've earned it."

She exhaled, set the mixing bowl aside, and stretched. Then a thought made her panic. "Vandy, we forgot to preheat the oven."

He held her face in his hands. "MC. Darling. Breathe. I set the oven when I grabbed the apron."

Her breathing gradually slowed. "Sorry, love. I'm just really hungry and kind of tired and I think not being able to see is doing weird things to my brain and you kind of flustered me a minute ago with what you were saying and I'm sorry, I—" her voice cracked, but Vanderwood cut her off and held her close.

"Hey...hey...you're alright. There's nothing to be sorry about. I kept you going after a long day of work without feeding you first. I should have known better." He smoothed her hair and tucked it into her braid. "I'll tell you what. How about we get this cake in the oven and then order some pizza and watch another episode of Cucumber Fish?"

MC sniffled and hummed in agreement. Vanderwood loosened his hold around her and gently brought her hands to the bowl again before grabbing the cake pan. "Okay, all you've got to do now is pour it into the pan that I've put just to the left of the bowl. Just take it nice and easy. There you go. Perfect. You're almost done. Now let me get a spatula to scoop the last of it out." After he finished, he slid the cake pan into the oven and started the timer. "There. All done." He slipped the mask off her eyes and gave her a peck on the lips as she blinked to adjust to the light. "I'll clean all this up, alright? Go ahead and relax on the sofa. You can order the pizza and get Cucumber Fish queued up while I finish up in here."

"Okay," she murmured. Another peck, and she curled up on the couch. She pulled out her phone to order the pizza and smiled at the notifications she'd gotten from the RFA chatroom. They were up to their normal antics again. Hopefully, Saeyoung wouldn't exasperate Saeran too much with his crazy propositions. But there was nothing she could do about that, and she was starving and in desperate need of pizza. Once it was ordered, she turned on the TV and selected the episode, making sure to let it run past the ads before pausing it.

After Vanderwood joined her on the couch, the next forty-five minutes was filled with lots of cuddling and pizza devouring, more kissing than watching the show, a few glances at the cake's progress, an agreement to actually watch the episode while they ate the cake, and several minutes of cooling time after the cake was removed from the oven. Vanderwood emerged from the kitchen after a few minutes of setting up to decorate.

"Are you sure you want to put on the mask again?" he asked. "I don't want it to mess with your head like it did last time."

"I'll be fine, babe. I'm pretty sure it was like that last time just because I was starving."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes."

"If you say so. Go ahead and get them on, then," he said, handing MC the apron and mask.

"Just make sure to lead me into the kitchen again."

"Hmm, we'll see."

"We'll see?" she repeated, but shrieked soon after when she no longer felt the ground beneath her feet. Vanderwood had scooped her up to carry her into the kitchen bridal-style and sank his lips against hers with intentionality. He bumped into the counter but managed to avoid any damage to his wife. He deposited one last kiss on her lips before setting her down.

"What have you done to me, woman? Years and years of agent skills, undone in a moment. If it were anything or anyone else, I never would have bumped into that worktop. But when it's you kissing me, you're the only thing that exists." He grinned. "It's a shame, really. I thought my dexterity was an impressive skill, but I don't even have that anymore, it seems."

"Shame indeed," MC parroted, trying to steal another kiss from his lips and stealing one from his nostrils instead. She made a face, causing Vanderwood to laugh.

"Well, at least I still have the ability to order you around." MC smacked him in response, and he continued, "Alright, alright, let's get to it then. This is where it'll get really interesting, since decorating requires more precision. Which, no offense, is a skill you don't have, since you're not exactly used to being blind."

"Now wait just a—okay, I can't argue that," MC sighed. He placed a spatula in one hand and a jar of frosting in her other.

"Turn around. Can you find where the cake is?"

"Ye—wait, Vandy! I thought you said you cleaned up!"

"I did…sort of." Before she could protest, he interjected, "I wiped the worktop! I just pushed all the dishes to one side so we could put all of it in the dishwasher at once when we were done!" He added with a mumble, "I just wanted to get back to you."

"You think you can charm your way out of anything," MC responded airily. "Well, you're right." She squared up as best she could with a frosting jar in hand. "I found the cake. I'll try to do my best."

"Well, in this part, I won't let you go completely solo. I can rotate the cake for you as you go, if you want."

"Please."

MC scooped a large helping of frosting from the jar and started spreading around the perimeter. Her spatula made a slight detour for a moment to donate some frosting to the top of the cake, and Vanderwood halted and reversed his rotation slightly to avoid confusion. A few seconds later, she went for another, slightly smaller, scoop to finish frosting the circumference of the cake. Another scoop, added to the deposit from the first, finished off the top.

"Is there a big corner around the top edge? Or any dry spots?" she asked.

"Just a slight corner. Grab a little bit more frosting to round it off a bit and thicken the top."

She did as directed while he helped rotate, and stepped back. "Better?"

"Much better. Maybe we can add a little artistic touch by making some...what do you call them? Swoops? Around the sides from the top?"

"Sounds great. You're definitely going to have to help me, though."

"Alright, I'll rotate again and stop you when you're done. Then you can smooth off the top edge again quick."

Six slightly lopsided arcs later, he stepped back for a moment, observing. "This is certainly not the prettiest cake I've seen, but it all adds to the fun, yeah?"

"I guess," she laughed.

"Now here's the part that'll really get a laugh when you take off the blindfold. I've got a bowl over here with some frosting for smaller decorating, and you get to pick the food coloring that goes in it."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes," he snickered while guiding her over to a trio of colored bottles that she couldn't discern. "Take your pick," he said cheerily. MC gingerly selected one, and he suppressed a snort poorly. "Excellent choice!"

MC groaned. "I'm going to regret all my life choices, aren't I?"

"Of course not! Only your decision to marry me."

"Hey." She squeezed his wrist. "I could never regret that."

"You might reevaluate that statement when you take off the blindfold and see the cake. Or at least my ugly mug."

"Vanderwood. Don't you even start with me. You're so hot that if we were working with chocolate instead of a cake, we wouldn't need the microwave to melt it."

"You're so hot that the beach would need sunblock instead of you."

"You're so hot that the sun goes to you when it needs to warm up."

They collapsed against each other, gasping for air. Vanderwood caught his breath first. "Let's get this food coloring in the bowl, shall we? The spoon and frosting are already in it. All you have to do is put a few drops in and stir until I say so. The bowl's on your left."

"As you wish," she said as she did so.

After a few moments, he spoke. "That's enough. Let me get you back over to the cake, and I'll get the frosting in the decorating bag. Which is really just an ordinary plastic bag, but I did pick up some cheap decorating tips when I got the ingredients."

"Splendid. How am I going to decorate, though? Even if I could see, I don't know the first thing about cake decorating. Oh yeah, and I can't see."

"Don't get your 'panties in a bunch,' as you like to tell me so often. I'll do it with you this time."

"But you don't know how to decorate cakes, either!"

"Ah-ah-ah!” he chided. “Do you trust me or not?"

"Not particularly."

"Hey!"

"But! We should just go ahead and do it anyway, because even though neither of us knows what we're doing, we're the only ones in this apartment who can. And the frosting smells too good not to eat soon."

"That's my girl." Vanderwood curled around her. He molded one hand around hers and slid the other over her stomach. As they formed a few swirls on the top, he murmured, "We did this whole thing together. How impressive is that? Was it as fun for you as it was for me?"

MC smiled. "Of course it was. I know I got a little hangry for a bit there, but I know how much thought you put into this. None of my old deadbeat ex-boyfriends ever would have cared so much, let alone shown it. These are the things that make me love you that much more."

"I never experienced any permanent love until you showed it to me. And it's been so...world-altering—that I've been trying to wrap my head around it ever since. I still can't. But I swear I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to give you the same love you've given me. I certainly don't deserve it, after the things I've done. But you do. You deserve all the happiness a person can have."

MC paused and blushed slightly. "Vandy…" She exhaled. "We've gone over this whole 'not deserving it' thing. Whether you deserve it or not doesn't matter. To me, what matters is your heart. You have such a beautiful heart, Vandy. I love the kind of man you've become. I've seen you strive every day to be better than you were the day before, and that is so inspiring."

"Well, whether or not I deserve happiness, I would choose to be happy every day if my being happy made you happy." He squeezed her hip affectionately and pulled her in for a tender kiss.

"It would." She kissed him back. They added one last swirl and a border before they set down the bag of frosting. He uncurled her fingers and fiddled with her wedding ring.

"Are you ready to see it?"

"Sure."

He slipped off the blindfold, and she gasped.

"What have we done?" she exclaimed as her laughing grew louder by the second.

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" Vanderwood asked, feigning ignorance.

"The cake is bright flaming orange, Vandy!" She let out a snort, then covered her face. "Hey, wait! All the food coloring was the same color too, you little twit!"

He shrugged innocently. MC sputtered. "Nuh-uh. Don't you shrug at me, mister. Saeyoung has rubbed off on you way too much."

"Has not."

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe the tiniest bit."

"Uh huh, that's what I thought. Now are you as ready as I am to eat this cake and watch Cucumber Fish?"

"Let me take a picture first. And another one with you in it? You look so lovely, I can't not have one with you in it."

She tried desperately to keep a frown on her face as he snapped a picture but couldn't quite hold back the quirk at the corner of her mouth. He cut a slice for each of them and handed one to her. He curled the paper plate around his slice, and she did likewise. They looked each other in the eyes, both knowing exactly what would come next. Vanderwood solidified his stance. "Ready...steady...GO!" The couple raced to the living room and took a running jump onto the couch, ready for the wonderful night ahead.

#mysmerbb #mystic messenger #mysme #mysme vanderwood #vanderwood x mc #my writing #my fic #mysme fic #collab #art collab

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davidmann95 · 3 years

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How'd you like the new Death Metal special (and, more broadly, this week's comics)?

pretenderoftheeast said: Comics this week (12/9/2020)?

Batman: Black and White #1: The first of a platter of anthologies today:

* The Tynion/Moore story is predictably fire.

* JHIII is JHIII. Also he does a really nice surprising story about how Batman’s relating to this moment of the time, but let’s be real, you’re here because JHIII, and be assured he is JHIII as helllll here and it’s great.

* Dini/Kubert plays as the former building a story around accommodating requests by the latter, but that’s not a bad thing, and glad to see Kubert’s kept up the pace since his DK3/Up In The Sky creative rejuvenation.

* Ok I’m a philistine who has no idea what that Emma Rios thing was about but it was certainly pretty.

* Wilson doing Batman is surprisingly disappointing, but Smallwood doing Batman definitely isn’t.

DC’s Very Merry Multiverse: Not a very merry time! I hate to say it given this should be so geared to my interests, but this is the weakest overall effort we’ve gotten from one of DC’s quarterly anthologies in a good long while, at least among those I’ve picked up. Not to say it’s a dud, there are several nifty little stories in here including the much-hyped first appearance of Kid Quick (destined to become the Flash of Future State) and really almost everything here reaches ‘pretty okay’. But for $10, and a creative space that should reach so much more than ‘pretty okay’, I don’t know that this is a justifiable recommendation unless you’re understandably desperate for all the President Superman content you can get your hands on.

Tales of the Dark Multiverse: Flashpoint: I’m surprised I got it too, but the preview grabbed me and in practice it was a fun, mean little high-concept adventure of Reverse Flash being a total cock.

Wonder Woman #768: Credit where it is due, this has been getting a bit better in its closing stretch.

Dark Nights: Death Metal: The Last Stories of the DC Universe: This ruled. Obviously there was the one story folks are most interested in, but almost all of the tales in here lived up to being a ‘final’ story of sorts for their leads.

* The Titans bookenders were pretty nice even if it’s hilarious that their big rallying cry basically amounts to “by god, our book may be shit, but we’re valuable IP so we’ll never be cancelled!”

* Green Lantern is basically an epilogue to Johns’ run sans the baggage of bringing back Johns (that we get in two weeks with Secret Origin and god forgive me I’m so looking forward to that), and definitely one of my favorite efforts from Lemire.

* Wonder Woman’s the stinker in what’s nominally her own event. I can parse the roots of most bad Superman stories one way or another, but I just can’t understand what’s behind most bad Wonder Woman stories beyond that the people handling it simply don’t give a shit.

* Astonishingly, the Green Arrow and Black Canary chapter in here might be my favorite of the bunch? Simone at her best, a really sweet slice of playful, sincere romance about two characters I’m not by default invested in but ended up quite caring for here.

* This Aquaman story is everything I generally hate in Aquaman stuff, a big long maudlin speech about the weight of the world as he swims through a black featureless ocean, except here between the real heart Sebela brings to the script and the mood artist Christopher Mooneyham manages to evoke, it all clicks together.

* The Batman Family story feels like it can’t quite make its pacing work, but it’s still a heartfelt little ode to the theoretical power of the concept.

* Hey, that Mark Waid guy? Turns out he can write him some Superman. It’s not perhaps the total barnburner you might have expected - I imagine he’s saving his biggest hits for later - but it’s a very solid execution of a gangbusters concept, and Manapul steals the show with absolutely sensational, gorgeous scenic Superman imagery. I’mma say 60/40 in favor of them doing a Superman project together on either a main book or Black Label (I know Manapul was supposed to be locked into a creator-owned thing with Scott Snyder but that was ages ago), because this is a paring that’s yielded some immediate results and I imagine everyone knows it. And given my upbringing, nice to see a big, iconic, beautiful Superman story with him rocking the mullet.

Anonymous said: Haha holy shit Crossover is literally Cates taking that page where Spawn meets all the corporate heroes locked up and spinning it out into a series

Anonymous said: Does Crossover #2 hold the crown for the funniest, dumbest, most baffling opening page ever?

Crossover #2: Readers I’m not too big to admit I laughed my ass off at the first page, and at least a little bit for the actual reasons intended. The sense of homaging that Spawn scene in the context of a book about “Gosh, isn’t IP the best folks?”, or Cates’ dialogue...(shall we say) proving why he likes the concept of ellipses enough to name a character after them aside though? That it’s already crossed the line with its central metaphor from “indefensibly insensitive in its ridiculous self-centeredness” to “out-and-out cartoonishly offensive” somehow actually makes it more rather than less palatable; there’s no longer the secondhand embarrassment of waiting to see how bad Cates is going to handle this, it simply is the worst it could possibly be and readers have to accept and perhaps revel in the sight of him stepping on rake after rake. I cannot wait for him to finally give an interview on this book where he explains what the hell he thinks this looks like, and I hope my dad keeps somehow enjoying it forever because I totally wanna see what pit this descends to next.

Penultiman #3: This is absolutely agonizing and probably the most relatable take on a ‘superman’ ever.

Home Sick Pilots #1: A new creator-owned book from Dan Watters (whose big two credits include the stupendous “Afraid of America” with John Paul Leon in the last Batman Secret Files, and the upcoming Future State: Superman/Wonder Woman) and Peter Cannon’s Caspar Wijngaard, this new book set against the backdrop of a Californian high school’s punk scene in 1994 describes itself as “Power Rangers meets The Shining (yes, really)”. The former influence isn’t much in play yet, but thus far this is a book that merges building tension and freewheeling dopey teen bullshit to an extent that’s subtly impressive as hell, and seems likely to proudly take a place among the current horror comic renaissance.

Warhammer 40,000: Marneus Calgar #3: Ok again I don’t have any experience with this franchise but you’d better believe that cultural osmosis was enough that I popped for BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!

King in Black: Namor #1: Kurt Busiek’s return to Marvel...sucks? Such is the power of Knull I guess even if he doesn’t manifest within the actual story here, this is a complete nothing of a comic and I’m not tuning in for issue #2.

Avengers #39: Eh, I’m not liking Aaron Avengers when it gets remotely serious nearly as much as when he’s doing stuff like having them finally help Blade with all those vampires or Captain America assisting with the delivery of an exploding space-baby in the back of a muscle car.

Anonymous said: That new Guardians of the Galaxy was something else. What do you think the odds are that Comic Books, with a decade or two of hindsight, recognizes Ewing as one of the best to ever do it?

Guardians of the Galaxy #9: I lack much context here beyond recalling from an interview that this is Ewing’s way of grappling with the ideas from Steve Englehart’s original unrealized vision of Star-Lord’s character arc, but wherever it stems from this is a hell of a comic.

S.W.O.R.D. #1: This is everything I’ve wanted from the non-Hickman X-books since the moment HoXPoX ended, and so much more, and also it is basically hilarious that Ewing is all but explicitly using his clout to force Marvel to let him to Ultimates3 under a currently cancellation-proof banner. Most importantly of all, Ewing has already mastered the subtle art of writing not merely Magneto, but the infinitely superior Jonathan Hickman Magneto. And good lord Schiti and Gracia, I already knew they were top-tier but these pages’d make a grown man cry.

#Week's Comics #Opinion

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lovely-ateez · 4 years

Text

For The First Time Pt.2~

ꕥPosted: 7/25/20

ꕥGenre: College!au, Fluff

ꕥPairing: Fem!reader x Jongho

ꕥWord Count: ~1k

ꕥWarnings: None

ꕥA/N: I know this isn’t a popular series which makes me a little sad but I wanted to finish it anyway. If people end up liking it and it actually gets attention I might(?) make a part 3. It’s most likely gonna end here tho. Read part 1 also if you wouldn’t mind! Things will make a lot more sense if you do. You can do that here

ꕥA/N Cont: So even though I provided translations for some words, there is a phrase that I clarified in the middle of the writing bc I didn’t want to spoil anything

ꕥPhrase Guide:

你= You

加油 = You can do it (encouragement)

Jongho was surprisingly easy to talk to and we got along better than I thought we would. Not that I thought we wouldn’t get along, but I was still surprised.

After we had lunch together we exchanged numbers and began to hang out more, usually every couple days given our busy schedules.

He was so talkative that I found out almost everything about him in no time. He just turned 20, was a music major, and took Chinese because he wanted a challenge. He loved snow but hated the cold. Soccer was his favorite sport but he didn’t play often since he was always either studying or working as a tutor for underclassmen. He was born in Korea but grew up in America. Fluent in Korean but insecure enough about his American accent that he only spoke it with close friends and family. He met Mingi during a soccer camp he went to in middle school and his best friend - the guy with the mullet - was named Hongjoong and apparently much friendlier than he looked.

The more I spent time with Jongho, the more I realized I had feelings for him and the stronger they became. When Marina and I were alone in our dorm, I told her everything I was feeling and the response was exactly what I suspected.

“HA! KNEW IT!” Marina yelled, “I just won myself ten bucks.”

“I’m sorry, YOU WHAT?”

“I may or may not have made a bet with Mingi that you would catch feelings within three months of meeting Jongho. And you’re two days away from three months, girly.” She shrugged but kept the smile on her face.

“Oh my god you did not. Actually speaking of...what’s up with you two? Are you official yet?”

Marina went quiet for a moment then bit her lip, finally speaking up, “Well...not yet, technically, but we’ve seriously considered it. We have another date this weekend. Now all you have to do is get with Jongho and we can go on a double date.”

“Yeah I don’t know about that, M.”

“Y/n he totally likes you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No I know. He’s got a few tells so I know he feels at least a little something. I’m just not sure if I should commit to anything, you know?”

Marina let out a loud laugh before speaking again.

“Pfft no. I dated all throughout high school. If I’m being honest, though, I really think you should give it a chance. People always freak out about possibly ruining a friendship by confessing but honestly if a friendship can’t withstand a little crush then you probably weren’t solid friends in the first place.”

“You know what? You’re right. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

“Hell yeah girl! Go get him!”

The next day arrived way too quickly. Although I told myself I would confess, I was getting anxious. I walked into Chinese class holding hands with Marina for emotional support. We were the first ones there, as always, so I had a bit of time to rant.

“I’ll be honest, M. I’ve never felt butterflies like this before. I’m actually shaking.” I lifted up my hand to show her my slight tremor.

“Oh sweetheart! It’ll be all good! Promise. Just take a few deep breaths.”

I slowly breathed in and out for the next several seconds.

“You’re right. I can do this.”

The trio walked into class several minutes later. Mingi gave a quick kiss to Marina and Jongho gave me a friendly smile. Hongjoong rolled his eyes at the four of us and walked to his usual seat, propping his feet up on the seat in front of him.

The rest of the class filled in and soon our professor arrived.

The professor loudly clapped her hands, speaking up, “Alright class. Today I’m going to have you pair up in groups of two and work together. I don’t care who it’s with, as long as it’s with somebody. We’ve got an even number of students so we should be fine. I’ve got some games for you to play today.”

I turned to Marina but she was already halfway up the stairs to sit next to Mingi. I looked at Jongho but he motioned at Hongjoong, mouthing that he was sorry.

Okay. That’s fine. I thought. I’ll find someone else. Looking up I saw the unfamiliar young man standing in front of me. He blanked for a moment when I looked up at him.

“Hey! Uh...would you maybe want to be partners?”

“Are you sure? With the both of us together we’ll probably beat the whole class by a landslide.”

He laughed and sat down next to me, visibly more confident.

“I’m sure they can manage. I’m Tommy, by the way. You’re y/n, right?”

I nodded and smiled at him as we shook hands. I looked Tommy in the eyes and saw a slight blush on his cheeks. What I didn’t see; however, was the death stare Jongho was giving him.

The professor looked up and let out a laugh, pointing at Tommy and I.

“Yeah no way in hell am I letting that happen. You two are my best students and - no offense everyone - but no one would stand a chance against you two.”

“Ouch.” I heard Mingi say.

Jongho quickly stood up and raised his hand, “I’ll partner up with her!”

“Very good. Get on with it then.”

Tommy looked upset, making me feel bad for leaving him.

“Hey that’s okay, Tommy. Maybe next time?” I gave him a smile that he soon returned.

I walked up to Jongho, sitting next to him as Hongjoong sat down next to Tommy.

Jongho leaned in and whispered, “I’ll be honest, y/n. I’m really glad the teacher separated you two.”

“Yeah, I bet everyone is. We are the best in the class, no offense,” I laughed.

“Actually no I meant-“

“Alright class. I have talked in English for an unusually long time but in my defense, I was up basically all night grading essays so I’m running on two hours of sleep and a cappuccino. Nevertheless, I’ll now switch to Chinese. 加油.”

The first game was simple enough. The teacher wrote beginner to intermediate level phrases for us to translate. If we got it right, we got a point.

My team eventually won, beating Tommy and Hongjoong by a single point. Jongho really surprised me, getting almost as many questions right as I did.

Mingi and Marina ended up last because neither of them were paying attention, instead flirting with each other.

The second and final game was a little more complicated. We had to translate the sentence, as well as pronounce all the characters correctly. Tommy’s team was tied with mine until Jongho answered the last question correctly. I smiled at him and bounced in my seat.

“We won, Jongho!” I exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. He froze at first, but then put his arms around me and pulled me closer.

The professor spoke up once more, “We’re out of time for class today but remember you have a test next week. I expect you all to be studying!”

Our classmates soon left the room along with our teacher. Hongjoong quickly ran out to meet his new boyfriend - Seonghwa I think he said? - and Mingi and Marina were already gone. I assumed they left class sometime during the second game.

“Hey,” Jongho said to me as I was slipping on my backpack, “I was wondering if you could help me out with my writing in Chinese? Sometimes I mess up the stroke order and I could use the practice.”

“Sure! When do you want to study?”

“How about now?”

Jongho grabbed my arm and led me down to the whiteboard at the front of the class. I looked around at the empty classroom and nodded. I didn’t want to disturb anyone. He picked up a marker and began to write.

“I’ll write and you tell me if I make a mistake, okay?”

I laughed, “Sure, Jongho.”

As he started writing I didn’t see any mistakes. When he finished writing, I gasped.

“我喜欢你。你喜欢谁?”

[I like you. Who you you like?]

I smiled and took the marker from his hands, placing it back on the podium. I looked him in the eyes and cupped his face. “你” I said as I kissed him. I pulled back and looked into his eyes. He smiled and kissed me again, this time wrapping his arms around my waist.

We pulled back for air and I whispered, “You know, I was actually planning on telling you today, too. Marina encouraged me to tell you, but I guess I didn’t have to after all.”

“I mean you can still tell me, if you want.”

I gently kissed his cheek, “You already know how I feel.”

“Hmm. Actually I’m not quite sure. Could you clarify for me?” Jongho laughed when I playfully hit his arm.

“You know,” he continued, “when I said I was glad the teacher separated you earlier, I meant that I was glad you were away from Tommy. I’ve seen the way he looks at you and I really didn’t like it. I got so nervous because even though I tease, this is the first time I’ve felt like this. So I guess the question is...will you let me take you on a date?”

“Absolutely!”

#ateez #ateez au #ateez smut #kpop #kpop smut #jongho #choi jongho #jongho fluff #jongho ateez #kpop imagines #yeetus #college au #imagines #ateez imagines #ateez atiny #atiny

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