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villainessprefect · 1 year

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title: This is Where I Belong (With You)

summary: You left Twisted Wonderland and life never really was the same. You miss what you had. You miss him.

And he misses you too. Enough to try and answer your wish.

ship: Idia x gn!reader

word count: 3,797

note: I try my hand at a ‘you come back to twst after going home’ fic

Read on AO3

A deep and long sigh escapes you as your gaze lingers on the screen held in the palm of your hand. The light illuminates your face, forcing your eyes to adjust to the brightness. Regardless of your vision, you don't actually read the messages popping into your notifications. Even if your name is mentioned, you don't feel like you belonged in this group.

It's all...complicated. They were your friends, but the bonds formed felt so distant. As if you were only there out of pity and proximity. You were an addition by chance not by choice.

You lift your head to gaze at the world around you. This magicless, dull world that you yearned for so much. The safety and familiarity of a world you grew up in. Here, you are normal, like every other face in the crowd. People don't scorn you for your ordinary features. You fit into this lifeless and empty world. Despite being born and raised here, you don't feel like a part of this world.

Yet, this is your home. It always had and always will be.

The grip on your phone tightens. The black cat charm that dangles from it sways and brushes against your skin thanks to the night breeze. Neglecting the conversation continuing, you shove the phone into your pocket. It's not important anyway.

A hand grips at the strap of the messenger bag slung over your shoulder. You squeeze the strap before beginning your journey back to your apartment. With your body on auto-pilot and mind in a haze, you easily drift amongst the sea of people. No one stands out, no one tries to pester you, no one pays attention to you. Everyone follows their own mechanical routine.

Life is so simple without magic.

Sometimes you wondered if it had all been a dream. Your time in Twisted Wonderland felt so far away like a different life time. Could a world of magic really exist? It all felt so fantastical that it was hard to believe at times.

The scars left on your body were real. The little marks from getting into trouble with your friends to the piercing wounds from a dangerous Overblot. If you were ever to forget, your body certainly wouldn't. They were proof of your adventures and heroic deeds. A testament that you had lived to tell an impossible tale.

And you couldn't possibly forget the memories created during your time in that world. Many may have left a horrendous stain, but in the end they were fond to look back on. No matter what your mind would claim, your heart would fight otherwise. Those friendships were irreplaceable. Even if you were in another world, they would always be tied to your heart.

What truly kept your belief in that world was the singular gift that had survived the trip back with you. This, unlike the others, was concrete proof. The hand gripping your strap releases it only to reach for something else. A cold piece of metal rests upon your chest, hidden by your shirt and kept close to your heart. Fingers carefully glide over the small, skull-shaped mechanism.

It was a gift from Idia. One given when your friendship truly cemented and you knew you had unlocked his route, as he would say.

"I-It's a hotspot! P sure it's better than whatever your dorm has...actually, it's probably better than anything this school can offer you that isn't made by me, fuehehe!"

"Really? This is so cool! I promise not to lose it."

"I-It's nothing...Bet you didn't know it also has a s-secret function."

"What is it?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret, now would it?"

The memory brings a smile to your face. Despite never finding out the secret, you still kept the little gift. Surprisingly, it still worked even in this world. While the speed diminished, it still did the job. You may not be so heavily reliant on the internet like him, but damn did this thing come in handy. And every time you used it, it almost felt like he was here to offer his assistance and give you the world wide web himself.

The smile you wear falls almost as easily as it appeared. Thoughts of him left a sharp pang in your heart. A pain so familiar- too familiar. It was hard not to think of him, but how could you not when he left such an impression on you? That genius shut-in of Ignihyde who could make the impossible possible with a little tinkering. If given the right push, he really could accomplish anything. The way he could cower away from a crowd one second and then go off on a passionate rant the next with the right topic. His love of video games was so sincere which was something you could resonate with.

The stinging sensation in your chest continues to jab the longer you dwell in your memories. You're used to it at this point. Was it a good or bad thing? You prefer the former as it's a sign that your feelings were still there.

You grip the skull in your hand and wonder if you should have stayed behind in that world with him. A confession had never left either of your lips. Whether it be out of fear on his end or yours, you couldn't tell. But you didn't want to start something that would abruptly come to an end with your departure. Still, you couldn't help but think about the 'what ifs'. If he had said anything, or if you had...would you have stayed? Maybe...Maybe...

Maybe if you saw him on your final day, the outcome would have been different. It was silly, hypocritical thinking. You wanted a silent departure, to not cause a fuss at the school, the complete opposite of your arrival. You wrote a letter to everyone instead of gathering with them knowing how difficult it would be if you were to face them. Selfish. That's what you called yourself. But after seeing Grim's reaction upon learning that you were leaving, how could you handle everyone else's? Seeing the cat's eyes well up and hearing his cries, his pleas to keep you here nearly made you stay.

Idia got his own letter. There was still so much to say, so much to talk about, games to play, anime to binge. You wished him the best in his life, for a budding future for him and Ortho, and, while a little hopeful, you wished that he could one day change his fate. You never signed the letter with a goodbye, rather a wish to meet him again one day.

But you know that isn't possible. Crowley had warned you that leaving meant never returning. If you possessed some sort of magic, it may be possible. But you possessed none.

The skull meets with your skin once more, eyes glowing blue for just a second. It's cold to the touch, always even on the hottest of days. The touch brings you back to reality. To a world and people who were just like you. Ordinary.

Yet, in the midst of normal life you spot something peculiar.

A blue wisp stands out in the darkness. The little flames flicker as it hovers in the air. Its tips swayed as people passed by it.

You look around, trying to see if anyone else notices this abnormality. Those who passed through it were unaffected by the floating ball of fire. You rub your eyes, thinking you're seeing things. But as your vision returns, the wisp remains.

Curious, you move forward. You slip through the people blocking your path and as soon as you're within arms reach, the wisp bounces before racing off. It flashes in and out of existence, beckoning you with its playful call.

You don't know what drives you to follow this mysterious flame, but you do. You ignore the people, their cries and demands for an apology for pushing past them. You don't care about the weight of your bag slung around your shoulder slowing you down or the fatigue from being up all day. They're a burden on your legs, making each step heavier than it should be. But you have to follow it. You can't lose this.

You can't lose him. Not again.

That's why you're chasing it, you think. The flickering blue is so familiar that you can't abandon it. So, you follow it. Far enough that cement turns to grass, buildings turn into trees, and the loud industrial nightlife turns into the silent whispers of a forest. It leads you further and further away from the world you're accustomed to.

Has a forest like this been near your home all along? You couldn't recall although you never ventured out like this. You weren't even sure you could make it back to the city at this point.

You're breathless, tired. The wisp's pace slows so that you can keep up. Despite the pain in your legs, you never stop, afraid that if you did you'd lose sight of the wisp and everything would return to normal.

When the wisp comes to a stop, so do you. It allows you to stand close before zipping past a push and leading you to a small pond.

The waters reflect the sky above so clearly that you could mistake it for a mirror. So pure and reflective. Yet, something isn't right. While the wisp and your image appear on the water, the sky is different. Yours is cloudy, dark, while this one appears clear and bright. You could see the stars and moon perfectly.

The little wisp begins to dance close to the water but never quite touches it. You feel like it's trying to tempt you to do the same. To lure you in and touch the water. Before you can find your voice, the wisp takes a hearty 'jump' into the air and lands into the water.

You gasp and reach out to stop it, feet nearing the edge but stopping a few inches short. You fear the flame has been extinguished upon meeting its natural enemy. There was no smoke to indicate it had gone out. Instead the ripples were smooth, gentle with no splashing, no sign that it was touched to begin with.

What was this? Magic? The thought gets your heart racing. A ray of hope shines in your eyes. For the first time in a long while, you feel excited. Happy.

But you know better than to get your hopes up. You were in a magicless world. Your home. It's a miracle that little wisp caught your eyes. And now, it is gone.

"This has to be a dream or else I'm going insane," you mumble. Your breath is shaky, tired. Tears prick at your eyes.

How could you be so foolish to think you could get a second chance? That you could see them- him- again?

Your mind tells you to leave, to go home and rest. You need to sleep. You're hallucinating, obviously. But you don't move an inch. That bit of hope swells in your chest. Unbelievable things happened to you once before, so why can't it happen again?

And then, it happens.

You hear someone call out your name.

Your eyes widen. The sound came from the water. A voice muffled yet you could hear it loud and clear. You stare down at your reflection, looking for something- someone.

A glimpse of another person reflects in the water and that's all the push you needed.

You take a jump, throwing caution to the wind. You brace yourself for a splash despite seeing the earlier performance. When your body comes in contact with the water, you don't feel anything. Darkness envelops your body, your soul. You feel lost until something takes a hold of your hand. Even though you don't know who it is, you put your trust in them. Besides, this isn't the first time you've taken a stranger's hand.

With a tug, you're pulled out of that floating sensation and collide with something. Your body meets with another and soon you're falling again, this time to the ground. Whoever it was who took your hand breaks your fall.

Instinctively, you clutch onto the person underneath you as you expected more. But when nothing else happens, you release your hold on them. Slowly, your eyes open as you push yourself off the person below. You stop once you see who it is.

"Idia...?"

His name comes out in a whisper. The poor soul was lying on his back, eyes shut with a slightly pained expression. The flames of his hair spread out underneath him. Your hands were enveloped by the flames and you couldn't help running a hand through them, just as you used to do.

You take in a breath and feel a lump in your throat.

"Is this real...?"

You extend a hand to caress his cheek. His skin is cold to the touch, but you can still feel his warmth. That strange cold yet warm feeling he always gave off. Your touch makes him stir with a groan. Golden eyes flutter open and squint at your figure. You don't give him a chance to process anything that happened within the last couple of minutes. Your hands are already flying around his neck and you nearly KO him once again.

"Idia, I love you."

It's not the first thing you wanted to say to him when given the chance to reunite. Honestly, an apology was what you wanted to start with. To him, to everyone. But this needed to be said. Unspoken words that needed to be heard. You missed your chance once and you didn't want to miss it again.

"I missed you so much."

Idia stutters something incomprehensible. You're certain that you've broken him considering the blue surrounding your vision begins to turn into a pink frenzy. Perhaps you've done a little too much to him. It's nice to know that he hadn't changed though.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to overwhelm you, I just..." You pull back, releasing your hold on the timid man. He keeps his gaze on you, surprisingly, unlike before. His gaze may flicker but he holds your gaze longer than he ever had before. "I never thought I'd see you again."

Idia gulps and opens his mouth. No words come out and he shuts it promptly. His mind is whirling with far too many thoughts. Your sudden affection and the realization that you were back had caused him to malfunction. He was supposed to be cool and embrace you, yet the most he could handle is taking your hand in his. Fingers slide to your wrist to feel your pulse. You're here. You're really here.

"Y-You know I had something p-planned to say, but...that c-confession?!" He raises his free hand to conceal his blushing face. Uttering that last word only made that pink hue deepen to a darker shade. "It's supereffective..."

"I had to say it," you respond quietly. "In case I couldn't get a chance again. You have to know."

Your own cheeks match the color of his now. The realization that you blurted out such important words finally hit and it leaves you feeling embarrassed. You don't shy away from him though, you remain confident in what you said. But the silence between you makes your confidence waver.

"Y-You kept it...?"

You follow where his eyes flick to and look down. You find his gift dangling between you.

"I told you I would. You gave it to me."

You swear that his hair is getting hotter and about to imitate real fire at this point. With his hair warming your hands a little too much, you take this chance to change your position. You still had him pinned down. So, you get to your feet and help him. Idia never lets go of your hand as you do. He sways a bit, but you help steady him.

"Why'd you have to leave like that?" He asks, voice barely above a whisper. "Disappearing like you're from some mystery genre. I was...Ortho, he..." He gulps. "W-We were worried about you."

You feel as if you've been stabbed through the heart. It's what you dreaded.

"If I had to say goodbye to all of you, I don't know if I would have been able to leave."

"Protag problems," he spits. "It's not fair though. You can't just come into my life like that and then disappear!" His voice raises, the ends of his hair turning red as it flares upward. His stare on you hardened, his own tears pricking at his eyes. "You were supposed to be different! You promised to never leave! I finally found someone to call a friend and that person just leaves! So, why did you leave me all alone?!"

He has every right to be angry with you. You should have said something, at least to him of all people.

"I'm sorry," you say, weakly. You squeeze his hand. "I'm sorry, Idia. I didn't know what to do. I had to go home, but I wanted to stay. I had my life back there, but this one too. I...I...I didn't know what to do." You take in a breath, doing your best not to let tears fall. "What would you have done?"

The look on your face causes his red to fade back to blue. He forgets just how painful of a decision it must have been. While he could easily make the decision in a game to progress the story, he never put himself in the hero's shoes. When given a choice to choose between two different lives, what do you choose? He's only ever had one choice forced upon him.

"I dunno...that kinda option wouldn't be presented to me, not in a million years. You still have that choice..."

You follow his gaze as it lingers elsewhere. You hadn't taken in the scenery around you with your gaze focused on him. But now, you could. You find yourself in a familiar setting. One lined with geometrical silver designs, walls lined with holograms projecting things you could barely understand. There were tables cluttered with spare parts and tools. The floor was a mess, reminding you of how Idia's room was. Messy and disheveled as he focused on his project.

And that project is what caught your attention.

A hexagon shaped portal that was taller than either of you. One crafted from metal with cables practically bleeding out of it. To the side was a small keyboard and screen to input information. A small ramp led to the center that showed a faint reflection of the forest you had been in not too long ago. The image was fading into a transparent blue color. You think, if you wanted to leave then now would be the time.

But you don't move, you don't even try.

"No," you say, ignoring your world and turning to him. "I've made my choice already." You gulp. "I want to stay here. With you. If you'll let me?"

"O-Of course!" He squeaks out. "You don't need my permission for something like that..." His feelings are going haywire. He was elated over your decision yet terrified. Were you really going to stay for him? Give up everything again to stay here? In a world you didn't belong in? Scratch that last question. You did belong here.

"How'd you do it?" You ask, hoping to distract him from shutting down and being genuinely curious. "Crowley said I couldn't come back."

"Did you seriously believe what he said?" He sighs. "Okay, maybe I get why. He's so flaky and can barely come up with a six number password for his phone. A-Anyway, I did get some...help." He coughs that last part, but you definitely heard it. Idia points to your gift.

"That was the key. It's something I made so I have access to it at all times. Ortho can pick up on its location, but he brought up the fact that he might not always be able to...so I got someone with stronger magic to be able to keep in touch. Sort of. If I could amplify the signal or put it on a wavelength he could sense then...even if the outcome of you disappearing did come true. I could find you."

You nod along with his words. You think you can grasp what he's saying.

"Kind of like a magical GPS?"

"Yes! And it worked!" He said rather proudly. Although he deflates shortly after. "Thats n-not weird is it? I-I can't go after you, but at least I could always send Ortho if you were in trouble. He's faster and better equipped for PvPs IRL."

"Thanks for always looking after me."

"Y-Yeah...! Np! I...r-really missed you..." His voice goes quiet. His body trembles and uses you for support. Confusion laces your face, but you keep still and quiet. Always patient with him. "A-And it's a little late of a response, but...i-if I don't respond my chances w-will definitely go down and lead to a bad e-ending. S-So...I l-l-like...l-love...you too."

A smile naturally forms from your lips. It's bright and blinding as your heart leaps against your chest. The confession hadn't been forgotten, but you hardly expected a reply from him. Now, you pull him into a proper embrace. You nestle yourself against his body, head resting against his chest. He flinches, going tense before relaxing. Shaky hands hesitate to wrap around you, but he manages. His hold is weak, scared of giving the wrong amount of contact. You don't mind it though.

"I promise I won't leave again."

You inhale. Exhale. Then you recall the world around you. This magic filled, bright world that you had been cast into against your will. It's dangerous and foreign. It's filled with so many wondrous things, things beyond your wildest imagination. Here, you're different. While you're another face in the crowd, you're acknowledged. Good or bad, you meant something here.

You had friends with real, lifelong bonds. Despite your differences you were considered part of their group. You may not have grown up together, but you did grow together as people. You would never be alone, never be an outcast as you once thought you were. People here were odd, rude, villainous at times, yet human. And you loved them despite their flaws.

One a little more than the others. One you were willing to give up your world for. One you would stay by his side until the end of time.

This is your home now. It always has and always will be.

#twisted wonderland #idia shroud #twisted wonderland x reader #idia shroud x reader #gn reader #twst x reader #twst #idia shroud x you #ignihyde

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hvcmixtape · 8 months

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love's all fair when you're checking the decisions between you and seungkwan on the basketball court on the island of jeju

pairing: seungkwan x reader themes: vacation!(Y/N), resort worker!seungkwan, jeju!seungkwan, there's no mention of caffeine but assume seungkwan still has his caffeine addiction 🤣 wc: ~2600 genre: fluff note: first fic released in a long while! hope you enjoy this AU :>

“I know you say you’re trying, but are you really?” Seungkwan teases you with a fiery tongue. He looks down at you as if the whole world is in his hand, the corner of his lips digging deep into his smirk. With the basketball cradled in his palm, you shoot daggers into his eyes. Who does he think he is, Troy Bolton?

You're the only two on the court at this late hour, but it's only because of the consequences of your own actions, all of which started just earlier that day.

It's your yearly vacation with your family and they decided, why not go to a resort where the destination is the journey itself?

As soon as you heard that come from your mom's mouth, you weren't sure what to make of the next week you'd be spending in Jeju, a place you'd been to a few times before. You've already visited the major attractions on the island, like hiking the Hallasan volcano, so what are a few more hikes? But realistically, who are you to deny your parents, the ones paying for the vacation in the first place?

Packing was difficult as you've thrown random clothing that you'll hope will make cute outfits when you're on the beachy island, and as soon as you know it, you're on the flight to Jeju, then in the shuttle to the resort, and then your ass is kissing the seat to a poolside view.

September is one of the best times to visit Jeju—the rainy season is starting to die down, but it's still bright and warm outside when there aren't any clouds. There aren't as many tourists at this time, but you've soon figured out that this is the time for locals to make the trip to Jeju so it's almost as crowded as you figured it would be. You suppose it's just another testament to how amazing Korea's geography can be.

As you sip on your drink, your mom beside you flips through one of the many brochures they handed her at check-in.

"Me and dad want to do a cooking class," she says after reading the description. "They'll teach us how to make paella; it's a Spanish rice dish."

"That sounds really yummy," you mindlessly reply, but as soon as you say that, she places one on your torso. "You want me to find things to do too?"

"Why not? Weren't you complaining and asking why we were coming back to Jeju? That's why I chose this place," your mom roughly says. "You don't have to do everything, but at least do something other than staying by the pool all day."

"I guess," you grumble, finally opening the pamphlet. There are a lot of things to try out: surfing and scuba diving caught your eye, but you weren't sure how you'd fare with those very physical activities. When you flip to the other side of the paper, your eyes are drawn to the left side. "Mom, they have an activity center for people my age—"

"Try it out! It'll be fun. Maybe you can go there after lunch and see what things they have planned for the day."

Lunch comes and goes and you have no choice but to venture off on your own, as your parents decided they want to do a wine tasting in the downtown area, taking the rental car with them.

Your first step is to approach the reception area, where you find a young man, probably around your age, manning the desk.

"Hi, good afternoon, how can I help you?" His full cheeks give him a boyish look, and his messy hair just adds to his appearance. He's wearing the same linen shirt the other staff you've seen wear, but on him, it looks just a little bit better.

"I was wondering if you have any information on the young adult activity center here. I saw it in one of the brochures."

A smile beams on his face. "You've come to the right place. I'm the worker in charge of the young adult activity center. I'm Seungkwan."

He puts out a hand for you to shake, and you accept it right away. "My name is (Y/N), it's nice to meet you," you reply back. "When are there usually activities during the day? I'm staying at the resort until the end of the week."

"Usually every few hours is a light activity and sometimes, we do excursions. Let me check to see what we have for today."

As Seungkwan pulls up the schedule on his computer, you say, "You seem a little young to be working at a resort full-time?"

He chuckles, pulling his focus toward you. "This is actually my aunt's resort. I'm working with her until I manage to figure out what I want to do. But I am 21, so I'm not totally young."

"Oh, I'm only a little bit older than you. I'm just turned 22," you reply. "But this seems like a fun job."

"Yeah, I like it most of the time. I'm sort of thinking of going into the entertainment industry, so I'd say this is good practice." Seungkwan shrugs. "So, for today's schedule, we're planning on hiking around the Cheonjeyeon waterfalls. We'll meet at 3:30 so we can make it for the sunset and head back right after that."

"Sounds good. Where's the meeting spot?"

"It'll be right here at the reception desk. We usually have 5 to 10 people come around, especially for the hikes. And since we're at the end of summer and the beginning of autumn, not as many young adults are here." There's something in that sentence that makes you raise an eyebrow but you don't think further of it.

"I'll see you at 3:30 then," you smile. "See you later, Seungkwan."

You find him later on with a pair of sunglasses perched at the top of his head, waving around a tiny green flag. You can't help but laugh at how cutely he spins the flag in circles as he raises his hand high above his head.

"Hi Seungkwan," you say as you approach the group of 7 people so far. Most seem around your age but some have younger faces.

"Hi, (Y/N). You look ready to hike," he smiles and leans in toward your ear, making you feel some type of way when his breath tickles your ear when he speaks. "Some people seem like they've been forced to come by their parents."

You chuckle at his hushed tone and take a good look around you, where everyone is wearing completely different styles that might not be the best for hiking to a waterfall. One guy is wearing an all-white outfit, and you know that can't be good news for a hike.

"I suppose you get this often then?" You ask, as you turn away from him and you rummage through your backpack to find the sunscreen that you'll definitely need with the sun's rays still beating down at this time.

Seungkwan's eyes are stuck on your hands as they glide the sunscreen along your arms and shoulders, not even able to answer your question. He bites his lip as he can see you try to reach the exposed parts of your back with your fingers that just can't find a way there, but he keeps his mouth shut.

"Can," you look back at him with a pleading smile. "Can you put sunscreen on the parts I can't get?"

He doesn't have much of a choice and he accepts the bottle with a flushed face. "Sure," he says, squeezing the product onto his hand and watching the cream soak into your skin. He's embarrassed to admit that he knows the spots on your back that didn't get covered.

"Thanks!" You beam with a bright smile as you turn toward him, not knowing that he'll be thinking about that moment for a long while.

"Bye, Seoyeong, it was nice meeting you!" You wave to a girl who leaves almost as soon as the group returns to the lobby. She doesn't say much back, but you hope you'll get to see her again in the next few days that you're still here.

As people start to break ways, you're reluctant to leave. "Do people usually leave right away, or do they hang around?" You ask Seungkwan. He says he's still on the clock, whether he's with the young adults' group or he returns to manning the front desk, so it doesn't matter much to him how he spends the last part of his day.

"Most leave right away, but you're more than welcome to hang around if you want." Seungkwan smiles and it's the first time you've felt like you want to absolutely squish his cheeks.

You fold your fingers tight, not letting them leave your side. "You don't mind?"

"Of course not. We can get to know each other better, and," he glances down at his watch. "I get off of work in 45 minutes and that was a pretty hefty hike, so we can grab food if you want? I can take you somewhere outside of the resort."

...Is this a date?

After letting your mother know that you're off to eat dinner with one of the people you've met at the hike, you click your seatbelt buckle and are ready to go wherever he leads you. Never mind the fact that you've known him for half the day—you are usually more aware than this—but you just feel good about Seungkwan. Something feels right about him.

"Do you like hamburgers?" Seungkwan asks as he adjusts the mirrors of his car. You can feel your heart pattering against your chest from such a domestic action.

"Yeah. I get them often with my friends after classes." You go deeper into conversation about your academic aspirations when he wonders what courses you're taking, and it's nice, to say the least. You enjoy getting to know someone better and it definitely doesn't hurt that you find him attractive. Maybe he's just being nice and maybe he's done this with other people who have been to the resort and met up with him, but you're only here for a few days anyway. If things don't work out, it's fine.

Seungkwan's a smooth driver as you glaze over his appearance: his brown hair floating up and down when the wind blows through it, the wire glasses that perch on his nose, and a smile that comes about often when he's speaking. He doesn't let the conversation drop, making sure he's nodding his head in acknowledgment while also keeping his eyes on the road.

As he approaches the parking lot of the restaurant, you mention that parking is so difficult.

"No, it's pretty easy," Seungkwan shakes his head. He removes his hand from the wheel and places it on the back of your seat as he reverses the car into the space.

"Easy for you to say," you mutter, trying to look in the side mirror if your face can get any redder.

After you head into the restaurant and order your food, you look out the window and even a simple hamburger place has the best views. "I wouldn't see the ocean while eating a burger like this in Seoul."

"Just another great thing about Jeju," Seungkwan says as he digs into his burger. "This is my favorite burger place, I go here pretty often whenever I finish a shift."

"I like your shirt, by the way. It looks good on you," you blurt out and you can't help but take a huge bite of your burger so you can shut up.

Seungkwan sets down his burger and covers his laugh with a napkin. "Thanks," he replies after he settles down. It's a simple outfit—just a blue button-up with a white inner shirt, but it's the rolled-up sleeves that do it for you.

You move on from that topic as soon as you can.

"Thanks for taking me there, Seungkwan," You grin as you walk out potbellied after the meal. "And thank you for paying for me too, you didn't have to."

"Just wanted to show you around is all, so it's my pleasure."

You're not quite sure what he means of it, but he brings you to a walkway that leads down to the coast. "This is a nice place to walk along," you say as your shoes crush the sand below you.

"Yeah, I usually like to exercise after my meals, especially with burgers," he laughs at himself.

The two of you walk in silence for a little bit, taking in the sights and sounds of Jeju, a place Seungkwan has known forever and a place you're just here to touch on for a few days.

"Hey," Seungkwan pipes up. "Do you like basketball?"

“You suck, Kwan,” you say, as you jump, jump, jump. Your arm stretches out as far as you can, fingertips grazing his forearm each time your feet leave the ground. “What happened to playing a fair game?”

You're surprised that you get the court all to yourselves. Seungkwan said that the courts close for guests around 9 at night, but since it's his aunt's resort, a key can solve all of his problems. The floodlights are still on, illuminating the green and white basketball court you stand on.

“This is fair!” He can’t help but to laugh. “You just can’t reach me because you’re short.” His eyes crinkle at the outer points, still keeping enough focus to maintain the ball in his possession. Damn you, Seungkwan.

Maybe it’s the heat, or maybe it’s all of the mixed signals he’s been giving you but ah, to hell with it. It’s time for you to get on the offense and make a move.

With a deep breath in and out, you wrap your arms around his waist, looking up at him with the softest eyes you could muster.

As soon as he feels contact on his body, only a layer of clothing between your fingers and his midriff, his face burns. And you have never seen Seungkwan flustered to a point that the ball falls from his hand immediately and bounces multiple times on the court.

His feet are frozen and his eyes land on you, even as you run after the ball and sink a shot that’s not the cleanest, but still swishes through the net.

Grabbing the ball, you saunter up as cool as you can, and hold the ball on your hip as you stand face-to-face. “Maybe that wasn’t fair, but I was trying at least.”

Your smart comment goes right over his head, as he’s still trying to process what the hell just happened.

"(Y/N)," he can only manage to utter, looking around to see if anyone saw what he just experienced. His eyes are wider than the full moon in the sky and he blinks a few times to shake off his surprise. "Yeah, I guess that would be trying." He puffs his cheeks and purses his lips, not knowing what else to say.

"I think you're cool Seungkwan."

"You do?"

"But I mean, do you do this with all the girls you meet when they come here for vacation?"

You have time to run away if need be, but you find yourself taking one, two, three steps closer to him.

"No," he replies, his voice softer than ever before. "Only you."

#kflixnet #k-labels #seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan #seungkwan #seungkwan fic #seungkwan fluff #seventeen #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seungkwan seventeen

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storecowboys · 10 months

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sofullofloveicould · 1 year

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my thoughts on

Solar Power - Lorde

A thematic diversion from Lorde’s previous two albums, Solar Power is full of theatrical and powerful lyrics, wrapped up with the feel of a wistful summer. With airy, heavily-vocal songs and a deluxe version with two almost-mythological add-ons, and a visually stunning tour, the music and its companion elements are a testament to the overall quality of the album.

The Songs

“Now if you're looking for a saviour, well, that's not me

You need someone to take your pain for you?

Well, that's not me

'Cause we are all broken and sad

Where are the dreams that we had?

Can't find the dreams that we had”

The Path is a beautiful opening to the album, a segway into the overall themes and melodies of Solar Power. Representative of the name, The Path is about choosing directions and being comfortable with change. I interpret The Path as being auto-biographical, written as if telling someone about your life and the encounters and paths taken within.

This song has been written a million times, by a million singers. It shows a crack in the facade of fame, of having people worship you when you’re simply following the orders of someone else. It’s a relatable concept, even to those not at the forefront of media production and fame.

On the other hand, it can be interpreted not as a fan-singer parasocial relationship, but one intrinsically connected to your immediate life, someone who can be controlling and possessive. If you’re serving a passive role in your relationships, waiting for someone or something (the sun) to show you the way forward, sometimes that way is out. You can’t be expected to house someone’s entire catalog of pain and trauma. To be or be perceived as someone’s savior requires an immense power balance and the somber notes at the beginning of the song hint at the emptiness and heartbreak that is inevitable with an unhealthy relationship.

The rhythms and melodies of The Path start as something subdued and reminiscent but quickly crescendo into an energetic melody, with Lorde’s crooning vocals painting a picture that is as much carefully-sculpted art as it is up for interpretation. The lyrics are simultaneously ambiguous as well as steady and confident. The Path takes you by the hand and leads you into the album, a testament to the quality of music to come.

“No shirt, no shoes, only my features

My boy behind me, he's taking pictures

Lead the boys and girls onto the beaches

Come one, come all, I'll tell you my secrets

I'm kinda like a prettier Jesus”

The second track, and namesake of the album, Solar Power, has a contradictory theme to the previous song. The juxtaposition of feeling unbeatable, a god-like figure, and disliking the concept of becoming one’s “savior” is a common theme throughout the album and a feeling that exonerates the late-summer themes of the album.

Solar Power is about being above things, developing confidence, and knowing your worth.

After seeing this song live, my appreciation for it deepened. The captivation of the song comes, not necessarily from its lyrics or its instrumentation, but from the general air of the song. It’s catchy, repetitive, and best played loud. It’s a strong namesake song and easily ranks as one of my favorites from the album.

“Goodbye to all the bottles, all the models

Bye to the clouds in the skies that all hold no rain-

(Don't want that California love)”

The third track, California, is a strong escapist piece, with almost absurd lyrics that make it difficult to discern meaning as a fan and onlooker. With lyrics such as “Once upon a time in Hollywood when Carole called my name” and "I'd pay it all again to have your golden body back in my bed," I don’t have many concrete feelings about the message behind the song. However, the overall feel of the song is very ethereal and psychedelic.

Is California a metaphor for someone, or something, or are you leaving a location and a time of your life behind? That’s up to you, as the listener, to decide. It’s a heartbroken, calmer song for this album, a mix of introduction and social commentary, meant to discuss leaving behind the plasticky LA fame. Much of this album is centered around leaving control and finding new life and new ways, and this song is a great example of such.

“'Cause all the beautiful girls, they will fade like the roses

And all the times they will change, it'll all come around

I don't know

Maybe I'm just stoned at the nail salon”

Stoned at the Nail Salon is maybe the easiest song for me to discern meaning from, with its clear messaging about choosing and changing your course in life, being comfortable where you are but always wondering how it would be somewhere else. Are your feelings real and is the doubt validated, or is the grass always greener? It’s melancholic, heartbroken, and questioning. It’s a song to feel lost to.

Lorde poses questions and thoughts about her life experiences, phrasing them in a self-deprecating way. It’s pensive, with a positive-sounding track, and easy lyrics that gain depth upon further inspection.

It places as one of my top songs and has a very different feel than the others. It’s less carefree, less psychedelic, and is soothing when you’re lacking direction.

“Took the great minds and the vapers

And a pocketful of seed

It's time for us to leave

And we will walk together (we will walk)

Psychedelic garlands in our hair”

The song that follows, Fallen Fruit, is very different. While it carries much of the melancholic lyrics and vocals of Stoned at the Nail Salon, it’s much more kaleidoscopic, and the ambiguous nature of the lyrics helps to add to that feeling. There’s a robust instrumental presence in this song as well, with different sounds being added here that may not be heard in other songs in the album.

I find it difficult to analyze or draw significant meaning from Fallen Fruit, and that may be part of the point. The lyrics are ethereal and the music is sometimes contradictory in theme to the words being said. This makes it a modern-art installation of music, but also not necessarily one of my favorites, personally surpassed by Mood Ring and Stoned at the Nail Salon.

That being said, I do enjoy some of its almost mysterious nature, and the flora-like metaphors and imagery create an interesting headspace and internal image of the song.

“Guess it's been a while since you last said sorry

Crying in the dark at your best friend's party

You've had enough, gotta turn the lights up, go home

Couldn't wait to turn 15

Then you blink, and it's been ten years”

Secrets from a Girl (Who’s Seen it All) is similar to what you’d expect from the title. It’s an indirect catalog of a person’s life and experiences, told as if offering someone advice. Lorde is offering narration to the issues and changes in many teenage girls’ lives, maybe talking to her past self.

She compared her current life and maturity to that of her past, with the bulk of the song spent detailing specific experiences, and possible projections of her past phrased in a manner that makes them universal. The most interesting part of this song, however, is the ending. It’s a vocally intimate loudspeaker-like announcement, that starts with a flight attendant speaking, even saying; “thank you for flying with Strange Airlines, I will be your tour guide today.”

It slowly evolved from a PSA to a pickup line, as if she’s now talking to one person specifically. It’s one of my favorite “quirks” of the song and the album.

“We've been through so many hard times

I'm writing a love song

For you, baby”

The lyrics above are the ending of The Man With the Axe, and nearly perfectly sum up the themes of the song.

The Man With the Axe is a classic breakup song, almost as if a Hozier song was sung by Lorde, with potent imagery and a slow, soft pace. The Man With the Axe is a lover, a friend, someone you should never forget and also never talk to again. The song is a spot of calm in the tropical storm of Solar Power.

“You get fifty gleaming chances in a row

And I watch you flick them down like dominoes

Must feel good being Mr. Start Again”

The eighth track, Dominoes, honestly takes the spot for my least favorite on Solar Power. While the metaphors and songwriting are as always, eloquent and layered, much of the lyrics feel clunky. Specifically the line; “It's strange to see you smoking marijuana. You used to do the most cocaine, of anyone I'd ever met.” It may be ironically or purposefully clunky, but much of the song comes off with the cadence of someone just learning to sing, and the speech-like qualities it has are not appealing to me as a listener. Coupled with the often repetitive tune and lack of apparent depth, it’s not as meaningful or enjoyable as the other tracks.

Some of the lyrics stand out to me, however, and I enjoy the cadence with which the chorus is sung. The phrase “Mr. Start Again” specifically is an aspect I enjoy about this song.

“But every perfect summer’s gotta say goodnight

Now I watch you run through the amber light

I used to love the party now I’m not alright

Drinking in the dark, take me home tonight

Baby, you’re a big star”

The next song, Big Star, has a similar feel to Dominoes, but is less clunky, with a faster tempo and a slight return to the tropical airiness of previous songs. It’s the Liability of Solar Power, self-critical and reflective. The melodies are beautifully sung, and it places at the top of my song hierarchy. It’s soft, intimate, a ballad to unconventional love.

“Won’t somebody, anybody, be the leader of the new regime

Free the keepers of the burnt-out scene another day”

Leader of the New Regime is the third-to-last track on the regular version of the album, and the first Lorde song I’d ever heard live. She opened up every one of her tours with it, serving the same purpose it does on her album, as an interlude. It’s extremely short, just over one minute thirty seconds, and barely two verses.

Those two verses, however, are strong and decisive, marking a progression in the path out of control and liberation. It’s a common theme throughout, and this song, quite obviously, hints at the reinstatement of some sort of control over her life. Displaying, maybe, a sense of maturity and loneliness, the high of liberation having worn off. This song represents a segway, whether into a new period of life or the start of a concert, it symbolizes new beginnings, a new life starting to form under the watchful eye of relaxed disobedience.

“Ladies, begin your sun salutations

Transcendental in your meditations

(Love, and light)”

Mood Ring may be one of my favorite tracks on the album, and for good reason. It has a lightness to it, with sounds that feel carefree and summery, but there is a strong lyrical and emotional depth underneath. It documents the process of becoming emotionally out of touch with oneself and then finding yourself again. Our minds have been trained, in many ways, to respond to placebos, caring for plants as a replacement to caring for ourselves, looking at your mood ring to feel anything at all.

Does self-meditation help, or is it a bandaid on larger problems within oneself? Mood Ring poses those questions without actually asking them, describing the somewhat-universal experience of trying to cure your problems with candles and tarot cards. In some ways, it's the manic-pixie femininity that this album constantly leans into which shines through this song.

“It's a blue day

We could jump Bulli

When I hit that water

When it holds me

I think about my father”

The last song of the regular album is the longest and serves as a summary of an entire life, its past, present, and future. Oceanic Feeling is a lyric-heavy and relaxed number, heavily hallucinatory and incorporating sounds not used in the other songs. A few verses use the background sounds of cicadas for the rhythm, and the very end includes another voice in the mix, a man who appears for only one line.

The previously mentioned ending feels almost like a different song altogether, breathy and questioning, pitched much higher than the rest of the song. There must be hidden meanings behind much of the absurd lyricism, it’s so layered that only Lorde herself could know exactly what the messaging is intended to be. It’s generational, with lyrics referring to her father, brother, and future daughters. I interpret it as documentation of her life, having lived a long time but still unsteady on new legs.

“Oh, was enlightenment found?

No, but I'm trying, taking it one year at a time

Oh, oh, can you hear the sound?

It's shimmering higher”

(Deluxe)

There are two additions to Solar Power released in the deluxe version, Helen of Troy and Hold no Grudge. They both fit beautifully into the album, however, Helen of Troy feels much more ethereal and vocally similar to other songs, and the latter seems like a mesh between Melodrama and Solar Power.

This album is one of the few examples of an album in which I can confidently say that the Deluxe edition songs are just as good as the originals.

“You've heard it all before

One minute I was killing them all

And the next, the brown suit wouldn't let me perform, aah

Typical”

Helen of Troy is an ode to powerful femininity. Helen of Troy herself was rumored to have beauty so immeasurable that it sank a thousand ships. Lorde’s song holds a candle to the fragments of beauty that lives within every woman. It’s beautiful and mythical and heady, self-dedicated “to the girls”.

“Now that the ocean's all waves, and the diamonds are blood

There's a new girl on your song

I didn't know that I could be replaced”

The very last song is one post-breakup. Hold No Grudge reflects on the past, looking at a messy breakup that they’ve grown and matured beyond. It’s looking back on something that failed, but not necessarily regretfully. Despite all that, and the name, there are hints of resentment in the lyrics, but never vicious ones. An album consisting of a lot of self-reflection and improvement naturally ends with a song reflecting.

The Deluxe songs are amazing additions, not copying or dulling the rest of the album, which is something that deluxe editions of albums tend to struggle with.

Solar Power Tour

By the time my friend and I had noticed that the Solar Power tour would be visiting The Mohegan Sun, a local Casino and concert venue, the tour was supposed to have been finished. Luckily for us, the show originally slated for April 15th was rescheduled for August 25th, due to a “particularly bad case of laryngitis” and I pounced on the first tickets I saw. They were a little pricey - about $130 apiece for mid-tier seats, but we were late to get them and just excited to see another concert.

The opening act was an artist called Jim-e Stack, who played electro-pop house music for about 15-30 minutes. After a few minutes of delay, a set was wheeled out and the show began. The set was by no means intricate, a large cylinder and ladder combination, with about three extras and musicians. The lighting and visuals were stunning, and the small amphitheater meant that everyone had a great view of the stage, including us in our sub-par seats. Those two props made the show, allowing coverage for the several outfit changes between songs, and created all-around amazing visuals.

Lorde opened with Leader of a New Regime and ended with Green Light, the songs getting louder and the lighting getting more intense the longer the show went on. Out of my two concerts so far, I have to say that this was my favorite. The smaller venue coupled with the nature of the songs and the fact that the concert hall had a no-smoking policy made this one of the best experiences of my life. Everything choreographed was done beautifully, and her few monologues dragged on for just the right amount of time. It was a fittingly ethereal tour for an ethereal album, and the memories from that night are ones that I will treasure.

Final Thoughts

Solar Power is sometimes called Lorde’s “weed album” in prominent reviews. I can wholeheartedly attest to that notion. Each track tells its own part of this story of gaining and losing freedom and maturity, having lived so much of your life and still having so long to go. I don’t know if I can confidently say it’s my favorite of her albums, but it certainly is the most cohesive in conception and varied in topics and instrumentation.

Despite (or maybe due to) its often psychedelic nature, Solar Power has carved a spot as a comfort album of mine and cemented Lorde as one of my favorite musical artists. The production quality is amazing, and the depth of the sounds she manages to create would be nearly impossible to replicate. I hope that her fourth album takes elements from Solar Power as well as her previous two, and listening to the three back-to-back displays her personal growth as well as her growth as an artist. Her first album, Pure Heroine, is an ode to teenaged rebellion, with heavy vocals and sounds, and Melodrama is heartbroken, singing of loss and personal grief. Solar Power is new beginnings, and possesses a lightness not otherwise found in her discography.

Solar Power is a masterpiece of an album and has secured me as a fan for the foreseeable future. I can’t wait to see what she creates next.

#lorde #music #music review #solar power #album #song #secrets from a girl who's seen it all #big star #dominoes #helen of troy #concerts #concert review #Spotify

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nickgerlich · 2 years

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More With Less

It has been said many times that roughly 70% of our economy is derived from consumer purchases. This includes all the goods and services we buy. Notice I did not say “consume,” because I’m betting there is not a person in my class—myself included—who does not have at least two garments hanging in their closet with the tags still on them.

I’ll let you mull over that thought for a second.

Shopping has become a social activity, especially here in the States, although it can certainly be done alone. People do it for entertainment, to alleviate boredom, and, in many cases, to simply allow marketers to hit them with their best shot.  

“Here, take my money,” we are implicitly saying. We come looking for problems we did not even know we had, and then buy the solution. Pavlov never had it so easy. It’s the cure for our bourgeois lives, the ennui that apparently comes with living in the land of plenty.

I am not much of a shopper, to be honest. Well, not when I am at home. I hate going to BAM stores. But COVID found me sequestered with my laptop and phone far more than I ever cared to be, and suddenly I found myself clicking the “Buy Now” button on Amazon whenever I needed something. Or just wanted it. Whatever. The mail person and UPS driver were here four or five days a week.

  But travel is my kryptonite. I like to grab unique items while on the road, especially souvenirs from craft breweries, but also local hoodies and t-shirts and things like that. It is when I get home and unload all of this sh*t that I begin to wonder: What the hell was I thinking? That way cool red hoodie with the Canadian maple leaf I bought in Winnipeg looked great when I tried it on. We’ll see come winter if I actually wear it, eh.

Marketers, I often tell my students, are all going to a special inner circle of hell. You know. Right beside the Lake of Fire. We are the ones responsible for creating problems like halitosis, a BS word if there ever were one invented. It’s bad breath, and guess what? Here’s the cure! And Close Up toothpaste five decades ago? That makes sure you get some tonight. And don’t get me started on B.O., a western concern of the highest order. Just travel outside the country and you’ll see that the rest of the world couldn’t care less if they stink.

I created a maxim many years ago after buying my first house (in which I still reside). We had 3000 square feet on 10 acres, and a lot of wide open spaces inside and out. “How in the world will we ever fill this place?” Silly me. That didn’t take long.

Today, about 10% of Americans pay for off-premise storage space. Fortunately, I have out-buildings for the overflow.  It boils down to this: We have more stuff than we could ever use. We have specialized tools for rare tasks, from the kitchen to the garage and work shop. We have books we have never read, streaming services we never watch. We buy groceries on aspiration that we’re going to eat more healthily, then wind up throwing it out two weeks later when the refrigerator starts to stink. And by the way, American fridges are about 50% bigger than what you will find in other countries.

Because we like to have enough on hand in case—you know—we’re ever invaded or something. My massive collection of shelf-stable foods (I do the cooking) is also testament to this fear. We didn’t need a Great Depression to forge this mindset. We developed it all on our own.

I urge you all to take stock of your shopping proclivities, your acquisitions, the stuff you have that at one point or another made you feel good. And then think, as I have been working on diligently, cutting back and getting rid of, either by donation, dumpster, or Facebook Marketplace. You’re not taking it with you when you die; your hearse will not have a U-Haul trailer in tow.

And then consider that our economy still depends on us to keep doing our part. It’s a great conundrum to be sure. It’s what fuels our economy, but simultaneously becomes the bane of our existence. Maybe we all should rent a dumpster and do a big cleanse.

Dr “Trying To Do More With Less” Gerlich  

Audio Blog

#marketing #consumption #products #buying

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xbunnybunz · 3 years

Text

WEAK HERO UNIVERSITY (3/?) [READER X WEAK HERO]

Summary: I know you assholes are crying now that the first season of Weak Hero is over. But you’ve got other things to focus on, like where the fuck you’re going to live after getting kicked out of your old dorm. Luckily, you’ve found one last open room on the other side of Weak Hero University. What could possibly go wrong?

Genre: Romance, Humor, Slice of Life

Date: 7/12/2021

You’re dully unaware of how many people are allowed into a cramped dorm room before it becomes a fire hazard, but you are almost completely sure that the rule has now been broken.

Gray pushes through the mass of bodies wedging themselves between your bed and the desk, a damp, cold rag in his hands.

“Let me see.”

You grit your teeth and stare up at the ceiling, holding back the urge to toss yourself out the window. Of course this would happen, you don’t even know why you’re surprised! It was just your luck to completely obliterate your toe in front of cute guys you had just met.

You reach down towards your sock and then freeze, eyeing them wearily.

“Wait… You guys aren’t like, feet people… Right?”

Eugene furrowed his eyebrows and looked to everyone else. “What do you mean? We all have feet.”

Gerard made a face, or well—as much as a face as you can see, and you fluster, immediately regretting asking the question.

“Shit. Never mind. That was a stupid question, just pretend I didn’t say anything.” What? No one can blame you, too many years on deviantart would make anyone paranoid!

You hook your fingers onto the elastic of the sock and pull it off your right foot.

The moment your sock comes off, both Ben and Alex rattle your eardrums with a shriek. Alex covers his eyes and Ben dramatically falls onto his knees beside the bed.

“The whole thing is purple, Ben, you dumbass!” Alex cried, peeking out from between his fingers. “She’s going to need to amputate her toes!”

Ben clasped his hands together in front of you, bowing his head to the floor. “I’m so sorry! I’m terrible! I’ll take full responsibility! I’ll even give you my toes!”

“Uhm, you guys—” Eugene lifts a shaky finger but is interrupted by the earth-shattering slap Alex lands on the back of Ben’s head, eyes teary with emotion, “Dammit Ben, no one would want your big ugly goblin toes!”

Absolutely flabbergasted at their reactions, you flinch back, eyes wide as Ben clasped both his large hands over yours, bottom lip quivering.

“Please forgive me (Y/N)! You’re too pretty to be missing toes!”

What the fuck does that even mean?!

Mind working in overdrive and face burning hot, you swallow and try to stutter out an explanation, nearly going cross-eyed at the insane amount of pressure suddenly thrust upon you. Did Alex just give Ben brain damage? Did Ben just call you pretty? Were those two things related? What the hell was going on!?

Gray pulls a sobbing Ben off of you, lips pressed into a thin line.

“You two are freaking her out. You need to calm down.”

“But—!” Ben starts, voice trembling, “Her toes! I crushed her—!”

Gerard sighs, turning his face away from the scene, clearly too tall and cool and in need of a haircut to be suffering from secondhand embarrassment. “You guys… That’s just nail polish.”

Ben turns to Eugene for confirmation and Eugene rubs the back of head sheepishly, an awkward smile plastered on his face. “I tried to tell you guys.”

Alex approaches Grey, peeking over his shoulder and almost sounding a bit disappointed. “Wait, so… We don’t need to call an ambulance?”

Grey shakes his head, no. His pale hair catches the light and you suddenly notice how incredibly pretty he is. “It won’t be necessary. But we still might need to speak to the Hall Assistant…”

A slender hand reaches up and delicately turns your foot towards him, revealing a nasty reddish-purple bruise forming just under the ball of your feet.

The group behind Gray cringes back simultaneously.

Alex lets out a low whistle, clicking his tongue. “That one’s gonna be hard to walk on, (Y/N).”

Eugene sighs, eyebrows knitting together. “Yeah, last time I got something that bad, I needed to use a wheelchair for a week.”

“Dude, wasn’t the wheelchair because Teddy accidentally threw a coke bottle at your crotch?” Alex asks.

Eugene turns to him sharply, whispering something reminiscent of “girls” and “not now” while gesturing to you avidly.

“We’re going to need to get ice.” Grey says, ignoring the arguing in the back.

He lowers the damp rag onto your foot. You wince and flex all the muscles in your leg, trying not to contort your feet in pain. Lavender eyes meet yours and you begin to wonder if you had misjudged him for side eyeing your ziplock baggie of waterlogged notes. “How are you feeling?”

Well, to be honest you were feeling pretty damn good right now. You’ve never had so many attractive guys paying attention to you at once, even if it was because of a fucked-up foot. You, one. University? Zero!

Of course, you weren’t about to say this. Instead, you gulp, wiggling your toes just to make sure nothing was broken.

You turn to Grey with doeful eyes. “Well, everything is still connected. I think I’ll be able to walk, maybe with some… Extra support?”

He lifts the damp rag off your foot and contemplates a bit, placing a finger under his chin.

“Why don’t you try standing up?”

He moves to give you some space and you swing your legs off the bed, moving quite feebly to put on a show and hopefully getting the world’s hottest crutch out of it.

Unfortunately, you were so preoccupied with putting on an act that you forgot which foot was actually injured. You place all your weight onto one foot before you realize you’ve gone and fucked yourself and feel the shock of pain immediately.

Your knee gives out, sending you flailing like a circus monkey on a tricycle, except you weren’t a circus monkey on a tricycle because at least those were cute, you were just a clumsy buffoon with one foot, too lazy to pick up her own belongings and finally paying the price for it.

“Shit!”

You’re entirely prepared to just give up life and become a fully concussed vegetable at this point, but instead of the sweet embrace of death, you get the sweet embrace of a himbo instead. An arm catches you by the waist before you can hit the floor and pulls you back up to his chest, the scent of a woody cologne punching you in the face.

When you look up, you’re met with Ben’s gaze. His reddish brown hair and chocolate eyes are a lot more overwhelming up close, and it doesn’t help that you suddenly recall him calling you pretty while he snotted over your bed. You stiffen like a board.

“Uhm. Hey.” You say, definitely not awkwardly at all.

He flusters, tips of his ears turning red. He swallows thickly and his adams apple bobs up and down.

“Hey.”

He averts his eyes and looks anywhere but at you, doing what you think is an attempt at whistling nonchalantly. It was in no way nonchalant. In fact, you weren’t sure if he even knew how to whistle, he was kind of just blowing spit out of puckered lips. With both of you distracted, neither of you realize his grip was becoming slack with his inattentiveness.

“…Ben.” Grey warns, albeit softly, but alas, he’s too late and too damn quiet.

He drops you like it’s hot and everyone else watches in horror as your head connects like deadweight with the metal frame of the bed, a loud and resounding “CLING!” bouncing off the walls and reverberating in the room like a haunting testament to assured braincell loss.

Your vision swims and darkness begins to bleed into your periphery. The last thing you hear is Gerard’s voice echoing in your brain,

“Hey man, is that my shirt you’re using as a rag?”

#weak hero university #weak hero x reader #webtoon weak hero #weakhero #weak hero #reader insert #fanfiction

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ohcoolnice · 3 years

Text

Okay so some people (read: one person, and it may have been jokingly) asked me to continue so y'all Imma break down some of my favorite scenes that I'm thinking of off the top of my head:

Starting off with episode 1:

holy hell so many SO MANY scenes but i'm going to start with the scene where Pablo's men come to kill Vincenzo.

Right before this we have the shot with Vincenzo sitting alone on his couch. He's thinking. Close-up on the lighter and all that (SERATONIN). Then parallel to the dark, empty same room, it's nighttime.

Now we've seen so little of Vincenzo but we know he's clever, and we also know that if he was sleeping, we would get that shot. Camera isn't here to trick us (well, not yet anyways), the camera is here to trick them. They think he's sleeping. He's not.

And the shot when he's coming out of the bathroom: SO MANY THINGS HERE:

- first of all, stunning, gorgeous, brilliant.

- secondly, let's talk wardrobe, because this is what I live for rn. The costume design in this show good lord:

- He's in pyjama's. GOOD GOD HE IS IN PJ'S. Why is this such a big deal to me? Think of James Bond movies, or really any movie with a similar scene. The assailant would be dressed in a suit or at least daytime clothes. So they could leave after. But the SHEER AUDACITY of this man showing up in his silks, sweeping the robe wide around him when he spins, and then shooting his would-be killers without changing his expression, not even BLINKING when the gun goes off (idk how sjk does this time after time but that's massive testament to his acting as well).

- the pj's are so symbolic of his character. This shit is his life. He knew it was coming, he didn't give any shits. It wasn't hurried, he didn't at the last minute hide pillows under the blankets: no no no. BOY WAS WAITING UP FOR THESE DUDES and fully was ready to just go back to sleep after. Gives no shits. It's kill or be killed, so he's adapted and accepted it's his life. Later in the show when they're betrayed, Cha-young asks Vincenzo if this (them being betrayed) doesn't bother him.

"I'm used to it." is his expressionless answer. GOD. So genius.

Now i don't like talking about this because I don't want to spoil for anyone who hasn't seen the show so SPOILER WARNING for the early episodes IM SERIOUS LOOK AWAY.

k cool.

so Junwoo. What caught my eye in episode 4 was not only his shirts but the angle at which he is shot at. Now this might just be me reading into it but i don't think so. Everything (mostly) is deliberate in this show, and shots are so carefully chosen i refuse to believe it's a mistake.

Before filming, camera angles are measured in reference to actors and the scene, to get their "good side" or to capture the feel of the scene and whatnot etc. SO tell me I'm crazy when all of a sudden we're no longer getting these simple, leveled shots of junwoo, but all of a sudden the angle is lower, or higher, we see him from what I feel is close to cha-young's eye level, and the shadow and lighting in the scene gives him a sharper profile, highlights the fact that he's buff.

I remember saying out loud to myself while watching for the first time "why is this random intern dude so buff" and then putting it down initially to just the actor being buff. And then I was wondering why they wouldn't just cast someone whose body fit the personality a bit more.

And then the end of the episode came and i instantly got it. That simple change in shot forces you to focus more on that character, even if it's irrelevant or brief, that character is now in the back of my mind. and as the blur subsides at the end of the episode and he's revealed, IT"S A SLOW SHIFT IN BLUR, but you KNOW for a good part of it, who it is. And during the shift you have time to think about that scene, or any scene with him, but you look and you think "oh shit. I should have known."

phenmominal. I love that so much.

And (last one okay sorry i know these long posts are probably annoying) I mentioned in the last post about the camera being the narattor. Don't believe me just yet?

Let's look at the scene where we find out Mr. Nam has been listening to their plan the whole time (episode 4 i think?). You think nothing of it because the whole scene is shot like a normal scene, you genuinely believe that the characters you see are the only characters in the scene. And because that's what they also believe, and we're still getting to know them, that makes sense. We see what they see from episodes 1-4 because after that point, everything is revealed, and we know everything (basically) we need to know about these characters, and now the show can really begin.

So when Mr. Nam pops up, yes, it's comedic, but you're also kind of startled because it's been hidden from you too, and it's yet again another warning: Pay attention. There's more going on than what you see.

SO BRILLIANT. SO ASJDKHASLKJD.

I might be overanalysing okay but I've wanted a show this ingenious for my entire existence it's so goddamn perfect.

So much 🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌 when I think about this show. I literally watch and just 🤌🤌🤌🤌

#vincenzo #GOD I LOVE IT #SO MUCH #SORRY #LONG POST #SO SORRY #AKJDSAKJDAJSKDHASKDJ #BIG BRAINS MADE THIS SHOW #I LOVE THEM

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wormstacheangel · 3 years

Text

Almost: Ch7

Hello! This is the 2nd to last chapter. So tomorrow you will get the final chapter. So excited for all of you to read this and thank you for all the love I’ve been getting on it!

Summary: Dean was locked up in a room full of hot-headed Novak siblings while they read Chuck's last testimony out loud. Lucky for Dean, Cas doesn't mind being used as a pillow. Unlucky for Dean, Cas's siblings are assholes.

Read on AO3 link (maybe leave a nice little comment?)

Word Count: 2893 More Under The Cut

The room was way too stuffy.

That was the feeling throughout the whole will reading. After the first half-hour, Dean was sure that Chuck just wanted them there to bore themselves to death. Cas was busy listening and even taking notes - that big nerd. Bobby was sitting on his own chair beside their shared couch. He looked like he was paying attention but Dean could already read the glossy far away look in his eyes. The old man was falling asleep with his eyes open again.

Not a bad idea. Dean tilted his head down to rest on Cas’s shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest as he made himself a little more comfortable. He thought for sure Cas was going to say something about it. About him being an idiot and he should sit straight and listen but nope. Instead, Cas moved his pen to his left hand and reached his right hand to gently pat Dean’s hair.

The involuntary shiver that ran down his body as he leaned into the soft touch was embarrassing but fuck did he really like this. Cas’s finger softly ran through his hair and scratch at his head. It felt like before. Like they were in a college lecture again and Cas would tell him to go to sleep. That he would take notes because he knew Dean had a long day at work and only had maybe 3 or 4 hours of sleep.

Then he felt Cas’s head tilt down to rest upon his and for fucks sake if this wasn’t the most relaxed he has felt all week.

Even in this room filled with boring words being spoken - Chuck never really was a great writer but he sure as hell writes a lot - and a tense Novak family, Dean could feel like he could fall asleep right here.

“Mr. Winchester?” Dean blinked open his eyes as Cas gently patted his face.

He sat up straighter as he looked up at the lawyer who was practically glaring at him. To be fair it felt like everyone was. “Um, yeah?”

He heard Raphael groan in annoyance and Dean tried hard not to glare at Cas’s brother.

“We’re ready to talk about what you are getting from Mr. Chuck Novak. So if you’ll kindly give me your attention.” The lawyer calmly stated, sounded like a creepy old man from a damn Scooby-Doo episode. Actually, he kinda looked like one too.

“Sure.” Dean nodded once. Feeling Cas squeeze his knee and then everything went to hell.

The words sounded almost far away when the lawyer guy said them and it wasn’t until Bobby was tugging at his arm to stand up that Dean got on his feet. His legs were shaky and he turned to look at his Uncle and Cas who told him to go.

All he had to do was walk up to the lawyer. To take the pen to accept the gift. Shit. He didn’t even accept those expensive headphones Charlie gave him last Christmas and he was supposed to accept this?

Fuck. He’s gonna throw up.

“Dean?” He heard Cas call out to him, the concern was clearly there but Dean didn’t turn to look at him.

Didn’t really look at anyone really - too busy looking down at the fucking pen he had to pick up. So maybe that’s why he never saw it coming. Saw Mike get up from his chair and land a punch on his jaw.

Everything after that was kind of a blur.

It wasn’t until the security came and everyone froze that he saw Cas standing over Dean. Cas’s fist was pulled back, ready to land another punch on Raphael, while his other hand was grabbing his brother up by the collar. Mike and Luci were still arguing with each other in a wrestling match about who was Chuck's actual favorite son - pathetic for these grown men to be fighting about.

Gabriel was sitting, rolling his eyes about all of this, while Bobby and Anna waited outside the office. Yelling at them to stop before the cops showed up.

“Now,” The lawyers spoke up after they all sat back down. “Will Mr. Winchester please sign the papers so we can continue?”

Cas shoved Raphel back and he fell back on his ass. He then turned around and held his hand out for Dean to take and help him up.

“Sign them.” Cas' voice was firm as he motioned towards the papers with his chin. Dean was just a little too distracted by his face. It was bloody and his hair was all ruffled. Fuck, bad timing to think Cas looked hot. “Dean.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dean cleared his throat and quickly took the pen out of the lawyer’s hand to finally sign on the dotted line. The room went quiet again. “There.”

Half of the Novak fortune was now his and thankfully so was Bobby’s Garage. Yeah, he’s gonna throw up.

The drive to Cas’s hotel was a quiet one.

Cas was in the passenger seat with his head against the window. His eyes were closed with bloody tissue up his nostrils and an ice pack balancing on his cheek. Dean could see Cas’s foot still taping to the music, he probably didn’t even realize that they were parked outside the building now.

Dean took the chance to just look at him. Enjoying the view of Cas sitting passenger side. He looked so relaxed considering what they just went through and if it wasn’t for the foot taping Dean would think he has fallen asleep. His suit jacket was draped haphazardly on the back of the bench. Remembering Cas getting in the car with an angry huff, loosening his tie, and undoing the top few buttons of his shirt after he slammed the car door shut.

The bruised knuckles and blood speckled shirt didn’t stop Cas from doing his old car routine. Getting angry when his mixtape was not found inside the box but let out a little, “Oh.” when he realized it was already in the tape deck. He quickly rewinded the tape before slipping it back in.

“Dean. I need you to turn on the car.” He told him. Voice low and gravely more than usual because of his frustration.

Dean just did what he was told. Turning on the car and backing out of the parking space as Cas pressed play to let Tangerine fill the car.

Now Kashmir was playing its final beats and they both knew it was the last song on the tape. Dean drove slow - he even took the long way and tried to hit as many red lights as he could - but it was time for Cas to get out of the car and leave this calm. Leave this safe space.

“You sure Bobby isn’t mad for leaving him with Gabriel?” Cas didn’t look at him as he asked. His arms just wrapped tighter as he hugged himself. He was stalling and Dean really wished he didn’t have to leave the car at all.

Dean nodded even though Cas wasn’t looking at him. He relaxed against his seat with a heavy sigh and when he nervously licked his lips he could taste the dry blood on them. The split on his bottom lip was apparently much smaller than he imagined but still burned like a motherfucker.

“He likes Gabriel - surprisingly enough - so I’m sure he’s fine.” Dean reaches over to hover his fingertips over his throbbing cheek and he lets out a small chuckle. “Never imagined this is how today was gonna go.” He throws his head back to rest against the bench seat. “Fuck my face hurts.”

He sees movement out of the corner of his eye and then he feels an ice pack gently being pressed against his lip. Cas scooted closer to him on the bench, tucking his feet under himself so he could kneel beside Dean, and look down at him with such wide sad eyes. It was heartbreaking to see those baby blues look so broken. Almost empty.

The anger clearly faded and now Cas was left mourning not only his father but a life he just can’t afford anymore.

Dean covered Cas’s hand with his own and slowly lowered the ice pack just as Cas scrunched his lips together to hold back his cry.

“Cas,” Dean looked up at him and carefully reached to wipe the stray tear that escaped. “It’s okay.”

Cas nodded as he smiled through the tears he was now freely letting fall now. Landing down on Dean’s own cheeks. “I know.”

“Then why are you crying?” Dean didn’t move from where he was looking up at Cas. Letting his thumb make small circles against Cas’s bruised up cheek. “You know I wouldn’t ever leave you to fend for yourself. You’re too stupid for that.”

Cas laughed, it was mixed in with a sob but his eyes looked brighter. That was good. Dean can’t stand looking at those still icy eyes any longer. He wanted him warm cause that is what Cas is. He’s warmth.

“Are you mad at me for accepting?” Dean quietly asked as he took the ice pack from Cas and raised it up with his free hand to press against Cas’s eyebrow bone where a ring must have cut him. Dean’s other hand was still carefully tracing his cheek. If he could only have these touches for this short time then he is sure as fuck going to take advantage of them. Of these soft touches. Quiet whispered voices. This closeness.

Cas has to go back to Mick but right now Cas was his. In this car, Cas was his.

“Course not, Dean.” Cas closes his eyes with a wince. “I’m glad you accepted. Dad never really liked me so I was surprised I was even mentioned in the testament at all. I am fine with what I got. Then again,” Cas opened his eyes and raised his bad brow only to wince harder. “Fuck, that’s gonna be annoying.”

“Control your damn face.” Dean chuckled as Cas stuck his tongue at him. “Then again?”

“Ah, um, then again I didn’t expect you to get the big price.”

“You sound mad.” Dean looked back at him with a wary look and Cas reassured him with a smile.

“Confused is more accurate.” Cas took the melting ice pack from Dean and now it was Dean’s turn to get his bruised face iced. “I just wish we had more closure. Like what the hell does it mean that you were the only one doing what you were supposed to be doing?”

“Fuck if I know, man, but...I’m sorry, Cas.”

“Don’t be, dumbass.” Cas chuckled as he carefully dabbed at his lower lip. “I’m happy for you, Dean. Truly. I’m glad that you were there for him when none of us were. Even if he was difficult at times.” Cas sighed and leaned back on his legs. “I’m glad he was just as fond of you as I was. It’s nice to know I had that in common with my Dad.”

Dean made a face. “Dude, hopefully not the same way.”

Cas threw his head back to laugh. It was loud and his eyes crinkled on the side. His dumb nose scrunched up as he leaned forward to grin back at Dean. Eyes so bright and warm that Dean could feel his breath catching in his chest. It was such a beautiful sight that Dean sat up and stretched his neck until their noses were nuzzled together.

Dean could feel Cas’s gasp out in shock, his breathing coming out shaky and heavy against Dean’s lips. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What is he doing?

“Cas?” Dean watched as Cas slowly closed his eyes. He answered with a soft hum before swallowing hard.

Dean’s hand reached to cradle the back of Cas’s neck as his heart pounded in his chest. It felt so damn heavy and scary because Cas was so close. He could kiss him right now. Fuck, he can have those damn sweet bruised up lips against his own for another second. He can have him like this one final time.

Feel the burn of his mouth against his own and let that be enough. Let it be the only thing that had him floating above water or it could finally be the thing that drowns him. Be the thing that finally takes him under and he’ll have no choice but to fight for his life. Fight to finally have Cas.

“Dean.” Cas’s voice was shaky and desperate. It sounded like an agonizing plea while he felt Cas shuffle closer. Then Dean’s eyes dropped closed as he felt just the slight brush of their lips.

He felt Cas’s full-body shiver as he sighed and Dean wanted to see more.

A whimper escaped between Dean’s lips as he felt his whole body heat up and he knew - fuck he knows! - how stupid this is. How much this will hurt when he eventually ends up getting fucking pulverized but he can’t think of that right now. He can't think of the damn consequences when Cas is right here. When he is slowly crumbling against his touch.

Dean tilted his head forward again to brush their lips together to finally-

The loud knocking on the roof of the car made them jump back. Cas quickly crawled back to his side of the bench only to jump back when Mick was at the window. Clearly forcing a smile.

Clearly, he saw the whole thing.

“Cas.” Dean tried reaching for him but Cas was already opening the car door.

Mick looked like he was about to scream but his face froze as the anger faded to concern. “Castiel! What - what happened?!”

“Can we talk inside?” Cas closed the car door and Dean flinched in the driver's seat.

“Sure.” Mick took Cas’s hand and Dean couldn’t see their expressions anymore but he saw Cas stiff shoulders as they walked away from the car. Hand in hand they didn’t look back and Dean was left alone.

Again.

Cas didn’t pick him again. He knew it too and it still fucking hurt like a son of a bitch.

He hit the steering wheel in frustration a few times, letting out screams before he quickly turned on the car to start to drive.

He can’t go home. No. Home kind of walked away from him again. But he’ll stay at Bobby’s.

Just the idea of walking into his cold apartment shatters him. So he’ll go and bother his little brother. He’ll just...he’ll take the long way home.

Dean spent most of the next day bussing himself with work. If he wasn’t under a car then he was in his office - pulling his hair mostly - finishing paperwork that felt never-ending. He ignored his personal phone - putting it on do not disturb with the exception of Sam, Charlie, and Bobby - while he tried to think of anything but Cas.

He did it for five fucking years so why was it so hard now? Why can’t he just push him back and out of his mind again?

Dean let his head fall and bang against the desk. Maybe it’ll knock some sense back into him.

“Why is it that you’re always doing that when I walk in?” He heard Sam’s voice and Dean’s response was just to flip him off. He heard Sam laugh and then two chairs scrape against the floor. He looked up to see Charlie was also there.

“What do you two want? I told you I still don’t have the money.” He folded his arms on the desk and let his chin rest on them. “I promise I’ll call you so you can see the number.”

“It’s dinner time, stupid.” Charlie pushed the paper bags on the desk where Sam was cleaning up. Stacking papers on one side and making room so they wouldn’t dirty anything. She smiled down at him, it was sad again. “You didn’t eat breakfast and barely finished your lunch.”

“Not hungry.” He shrugged as if they would buy it.

They shared a look with each other and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Well, we are. So eat with us.” She said while she opened the paper bags to hand him the food they got him. “We even went across town to get those curly fries you like.”

“Yeah and look!” Sam gives him a black styrofoam take out container. “We got you that berry cobbler you like! With ice cream.”

Dean lifts his head up and accepts the cobbler. “Fine. But it better be warm.”

They were about to start eating when they heard a soft knock at the door. Dean sighed as he called out, “It’s open!”

The door slowly opened and then Cas popped his head in with an awkward smile. Those sad eyes front and center again.

Dean quickly stood up but then he noticed Mick was standing beside him with his arm around Cas’s waist.

“Um, hello everyone.” Cas smiled at them and there was a hard tug on his lips. He swallowed hard as he awkwardly shuffled his feet before stuffing his hands in his pockets. Then his eyes looked up to meet Dean’s. “Dean? Can we talk?”

No. No. It sounds broken. Sounds like he’s about to say...goodbye.

Tag List p1: Ask to be added or removed! It’s chill. I post way too much lol

@galaxycastiel @superduckbatrebel @slipper007 @ar-bi-trary @winchestcas

@imlivingliferightnow @bi-bi-marie @nguyenxtrang @dancerdovegirl

@chocolatecakecas @trasherasswood @celestialcastiel @castiel-is-a-cat

@readeroftheimmortalbooks @marichankitty @confusedisaster

@castiels-bitch @destiel-bitches @tearsofgrace @wigglebox

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minimitchell · 3 years

Text

callumhighwayweek day 7 - free choice (ao3 link)

this is dedicated to @calsangel for being just an overall angel and always brainstorming my daft plot ideas with me.💕

Callum knows, as soon as he regains consciousness, that this is going to be a horrible day.

There’s a pounding in his head like someone is manning a jack-hammer inside of his cranium and even just the daylight shining behind his closed eyelids feels aggravating to his over-sensitive head. His stomach is rolling and turning on itself as well; that sinking feeling of a grand old hangover settling deep in it’s pit.

He knew he shouldn’t have drunk so much yesterday.

Yeah, it may be in the nature of a stag do to get more than reasonably drunk but he’s always been a lightweight and judging by how he’s feeling today, it was definitely too much alcohol. The cocktails were a bad idea to start with - the bartender was definitely too generous with the ratio of alcohol to mixer - and the different types of shots were probably the deathblow to his sobriety.

And his memory apparently. Because all he remembers is them having a shitload of drinks at a bar somewhere on the Strip and then-

Nothing.

They’re in Las Vegas for Jay’s stag do. It’s definitely extravagant, flying halfway across the world for a weekend to see him off before his wedding but it was a lifelong dream of Jay’s and as his best man, Ben was determined to make it come true. So their whole friend group saved every penny they could and made their way to the US for a long weekend.

It was definitely worth it just for Jay’s face when they turned up at his and Lola’s flat Friday morning to pick him up for the airport and the groom kept telling them how grateful he was for them and for this in-between shots yesterday.

It’s also nice to see Ben so satisfied and relaxed after basically driving himself crazy with planning and organizing everything the last couple of weeks, if not months. They spent many evenings pouring over their respective laptops, comparing hotel prices and making reservations for bars from an entire ocean away.

They’ve been friends ever since Callum moved to Walford a couple of years ago. At first, it was just because Callum worked with Jay, back when he had first come here before he started working as a youth counsellor, and Ben and Jay were practically attached at the hip. Since then though, he has also developed quite the relationship with Ben, Jay’s brother in everything but blood.

They found out they have a lot in common, not least the fact they’re both gay, and he’s been welcomed into their friend group and family with open arms. Now it’s him and Ben that are always together, one barely being seen without the other, spending most of their free time with each other.

Another thing that has developed since him and Ben became pretty much best friends are his feelings - for Ben of all people. Callum’s always been intrigued by him, right from the get go; by his easy, almost cocky, smirk and his self-assured attitude. Once you get to know Ben and he lets you see beyond the tough exterior, he’s also sweet and supportive, always happy to let Callum talk about a difficult case at work and cheer him up afterwards.

It also doesn’t hurt that he’s very handsome.

He doesn’t want to ruin their friendship though, or lose the family he’s gained through Ben and Jay, so he has settled for being the best mate. For feigning to be supportive when Ben goes off with different guys all the time and trying not to blurt out how he feels about him at every given opportunity.

Another wave of nausea hits Callum out of nowhere and he groans and presses his face deeper into the pillow underneath him. There’s no way he’s going to make it out of the hotel room, out of this bed, anytime soon, maybe not at all today. Even the mere thought of meeting the other guys for dinner later today is enough to make his stomach turn.

It’s a testament to how absolutely shattered he is right now that he only notices the arm draped over his back when he goes to turn around. It makes him pause, fingers tightening against the sheets underneath his pillow. Him and Ben are sharing a room this weekend but they have separate beds, so there would be no reason for them to be sleeping in the same one.

And he can’t see himself pulling anyone last night, not only because it’s a shitty thing to do when you’re on a stag do and sharing a room with someone but also because he’s always too damn busy mooning over Ben to pay any other man any of his attention.

It doesn’t bring him any closer to figuring out who’s lying next to him in bed.

He cracks his eyes open carefully, only a sliver, letting them adjust to the bright morning light flooding the room, trying to avoid the pounding in his head getting even worse. He’s relieved to notice he’s in his own hotel room and wasn’t stupid enough to go back with some stranger when he was out of his mind drunk.

The curtains are open, the view outside the window still just as stunning as it was when they first checked in. They’re in a hotel almost directly on the Strip, located on a little side street with nearly a direct view of the Bellagio hotel and fountain. It’s a sight he never thought he’d see in person and normally he’d be thankful and appreciative but right now his headache isn’t letting him.

His gaze wanders over the clothes scattered on the floor beside the bed and up over his bedside table. It looks a lot messier than how he left it yesterday afternoon before they went bar and casino hopping; his phone curiously enough surrounded by two glass flutes and a bottle of champagne of all things.

What catches his eyes though is a rectangular piece of paper propped up against the foot of the lamp there; squiggly, bold letters at the top and a seal next to two signatures at the bottom. It’s embarrassing how long the two words at the top take to register in Callum’s brain - he isn’t sure whether that’s down to the hangover or to the sheer surrealism of them.

But they’re there; black ink on white parchment, signed with his own name.

Marriage certificate.

Oh no. This is not happening to him. He isn’t going to be this cliché. This sort of thing only happens in crappy movies. It must be a joke. Maybe he misread.

None of the excuses and explanations seem to work because when he closes and opens his eyes again the paper is still there, motionless and offending. He pulls his left hand out from under his pillow and yeah, there it is - a golden band sitting on his ring finger. At least it’s simple and not tacky; small victories he reckons.

God, one night in Vegas and he got married to someone. Some stranger probably, dressed in an Elvis suit with his luck.

How is he going to explain this to the rest of the guys; he’s going to be the laughing stock forever. Even worse, how is he going to explain this to Ben? What is he going to think of Callum now? They’ve talked so often about Callum wanting the whole thing - a nice house, white-picket fence, a husband and a dog. This wasn’t the plan; this isn’t him.

Most of all, he’s perplexed that he actually convinced someone to marry him what with all the whining he usually does when he’s drunk over his unreciprocated feelings for Ben. And if it was the other way around, he’s amazed someone other than Ben managed to convince him to get married on the fly.

This whole thing is such a mess already, he doesn’t even want to see who he’s married to anymore.

It’s inevitable though. And maybe the sooner he gets this over with, the sooner he can forget about the whole thing again.

So he turns around as careful as he can - his head is thanking him for the slow and measured movements - the stranger’s arm falling from his back and landing on the minimal space between their bodies, trying not to wake the man sleeping next to him.

When he takes in the face on the pillow next to him, his eyes widen dramatically, even against the protest from his head at the bright light suddenly hitting him full force, and he feels his heart lurch in his chest. Or maybe that’s his stomach.

Because it’s none other than Ben lying shirtless next to him and one quick look at the hand that’s lying on the duvet rather than his back now confirms his worst fears - he’s sporting a matching golden ring on his finger.

Fuck.

He only went and married his best mate in a drunken stupor.

Even worse, he married the guy he’s been secretly in love with for ages now, who probably only said yes because he thought it would be a laugh.

He isn’t sure whether it’s that thought or the hangover rearing its ugly head, but whichever it is, it makes him rush off to the bathroom, not sparing any thought to how loud or sudden his departure from the bed is.

When he returns to the room after brushing his teeth and freshening up a bit, Ben is awake, probably woken up by the shaking of the mattress when he bolted from the bed. He’s propped up against the pillows, white sheets tangled around his body, playing with the ring on his finger. He looks deep in thought, but not disgusted as Callum had feared he would after realizing he got married to Callum of all people.

Their eyes meet almost immediately and Callum is all of a sudden way too aware he’s wearing next to nothing, Ben’s gaze raking over his naked chest. The feeling of being this exposed right now in front of Ben makes him itch, so he goes over to his suitcase to at least put on a shirt.

The silence between them is deafening and uncomfortable; it’s like they’re both waiting for the other to bring up the elephant in the room. Callum doesn’t really know how though.

Where does he even start?

“Alright?”

Ben’s voice is small and hesitant, a little scratchy from all the alcohol he drank yesterday. Callum’s last memory of Ben is him tipping back another Tequila before getting handsy with Jay on the dance floor. He remembers Ben drinking almost as much as him, but he’s simultaneously dreading Ben still remembering more than he does about last night; about their wedding.

“Yeah. Head’s a bit sore, you know.”

It’s painful, this weird small talk they’re doing to avoid talking about what they somehow decided to do last night, but Callum isn’t brave enough to bring it up. He knows without a doubt that he’ll spill all his closely-kept feelings if he even starts thinking about the possibility, the wish, to maybe stay married brewing in his chest.

But he knows it’s a moot point. He might be up for being married to Ben but there’s no way Ben won’t want to get an annulment, right. He never gave any indication that he might have feelings for Callum as well so why should he be married to him.

“So, uh, looks like we got married, eh.”

Callum doesn’t understand why he sounds so calm about this; so nonchalant about the fact they did something so stupid. Maybe the best way to deal with this is to quietly get an annulment, forget about the whole thing and never tell a soul about it.

It might be the only way to salvage their friendship.

“I’m so sorry. It must have been my idea and I dragged you into it. We can just get an annulment and forget the whole thing, yeah?”

Ben scooches closer to him, crawling over to the edge of the bed when Callum sinks back against the desk in front of it. He’s kneeling now and with the sheets pooling under him Callum can see he’s only in his boxers as well. He’ll kick himself forever about not remembering how his skin felt against his own when they were pressed against each other sleeping.

“Hey. Whoever suggested we do this, whether that was you or me, the other person clearly said yes so really we’re in this together now, okay?”

Callum doesn’t know why in the world Ben should’ve been the one to say they should get married but he appreciates him trying to share the blame with Callum anyway. He can’t help but notice Ben is still not looking too worried or angry about the situation. It throws him off because shouldn’t he be at least slightly inconvenienced by this? He never gave the impression that he wanted to get married, least of all to someone he doesn’t have feelings for.

Who would, to be fair.

He has feelings for Ben and even he is freaking out about it all.

Ben is looking down at the sheet underneath him, fingers coming up to play with the ring on his left hand again. Callum is transfixed by the action; the way the sunlight hits the golden metal and reflects off of it, how it looks so natural against Ben’s skin when he twists it back and forth.

It looks good on him; so good. The revelation sends pinpricks of longing to his heart.

“Do you mean it? About getting an annulment.”

Ben doesn’t meet his eyes, otherwise he would see the surprise evident on his face. Because judging from his tone of voice Ben’s not a hundred per cent sold on getting an annulment himself. Although he can’t fathom why.

“What, you don’t?”

When Ben finally looks back up at him his bottom lip is bitten into his mouth, the skin red and worried. His eyes are hesitant but hopeful and maybe, just maybe, Callum has missed a few things in the past few years. Maybe this is not as unrequited as he had always assumed.

“Would it be bad if I didn’t?”

There’s heat spreading through him now; butterflies filling his stomach and making him feel featherlight. He’s trying not to get ahead of himself but it’s hard when the guy you’ve always been in love with implies he’s interested in staying married to you; that he may have feelings for you as well. It’s everything he dreamt about before.

It almost feels too good to be true.

“I, I don’t know.”

He doesn’t want to let himself hope only to be crushed when it turns out that Ben is purely thinking practically, without any feelings being involved from his side. His heart starts beating faster just imagining the opposite though, running away from him and thinking about their possible future together.

The quiet evenings on the couch together, sipping their coffees next to each other in the mornings, slow dancing together at Jay and Lola’s wedding. He wants it all with Ben. He wants a future with him. As his husband if that’s what he wants as well.

“Have you never thought about it? How good we could be together if given a chance? Maybe this is our chance. I- I like you, Cal. So much, always have.”

Callum can’t keep the smile off his face, pushing away from the desk he’s leaning against and crouching down before Ben on the bed. He lets his eyes travel over Ben’s face, taking in the shiny blue eyes he always got lost in and the freckles dotted around his nose. He’s so beautiful, proper heart-stopping gorgeous, and he’s Callum’s husband for some miraculous, mad reason.

“I’m so completely in love with you, Ben. If you’re sure about this then yeah, let’s stay married I guess.”

One of his hands finds the skin of Ben’s cheek, thumb brushing against his ear. Ben leans into it, eyes full of something Callum likes to think is love shining back at him. Looking at him now he can’t believe he’s never realized it before. Ben must have looked at him like this a thousand times before and it has never clicked for him. Until now that is. Now, it’s all he can see. All he can think about.

When he isn’t thinking about covering his lips with his own anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They must lean in at the same time, meeting in the middle between their bodies to seal their lips together in a sweet kiss. Any pounding still remaining in his head is long gone, replaced by a nothingness created by their mouths meeting again and again. Kissing Ben is simultaneously exactly how he imagined, hoped, it would be and so much more; it’s so much better than he thought it could be.

Ben runs his tongue over Callum’s bottom lip, begging to be let in in a way that makes Callum powerless to even think about refusing him and earning the sweetest sounding, breathless laugh in return from Ben when he opens up for him.

They kiss until they’re both panting for air; until their hands are wandering over each other’s skin in a desperate attempt to feel more of one another and the smiles get in the way of the kisses. Callum feels weightless when Ben is smiling at him like this, ready to take on the entire world.

One of Ben’s fingers traces over Callum’s bottom lip and down his neck, along the dip of his collarbone, before hooking in the collar of his shirt.

“How do you feel about consummating our marriage, husband?”

Hearing the last word fall from Ben’s lips sends a shockwave of electricity through his body; one he can feel right down to his toes and the tips of his fingers, setting him alight from top to bottom.

What they’re doing is completely mad, that they’re choosing to stay married right now is absolutely crazy, but if they can talk about it and make it work, then this could easily be the best thing that ever happened to them; he’s sure of it.

“Go ahead.”

The smile on Ben’s face is blinding when he wraps his arms around Callum’s neck and pulls him backwards onto the bed with him, mouths finding each other again on their way onto the soft sheets.

They’ll need to tell the others later, face Jay’s bewilderment for somehow getting married on his stag do, call their families maybe. For now though, Callum wants to focus on the here and now, on his husband under him, on them.

Anything else can wait.

He’s going to let himself enjoy being a newlywed for a while.

#chweek2021 #callumhighwayweek2021 #ballum fic #my writing #alexa play waking up in vegas by katy perry

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youarejesting · 4 years

Text

Love Listening.2

[MASTERLIST] [Part 1]

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader, Hoseok x Reade, Jimin x Reader Genre: SMUT Warning: Auralism (sexual sounds), Masturbation, oral sex (m & f receiving), penetrative Sex, voyeurism, face fucking, impreg kink, slut shaming, Dom, sub. If you believe anymore warnings apply let me know and I will add them. Words: 4.2k Announcements: I hate this. It was so hard to write. I don’t think it is any good but you be the judge.

The work would take longer than expected, the plumber said he could fix this one pipe and the contractor could fix the damaged roof and walls, but it would only push the problem back. He had to re-pipe the whole place so you were staying in Taehyung’s room longer than expected while the plumber ripped the walls apart to replace the piping. It got better, Taehyung and Alana broke up and you were given some reprieve from the constant nights.

Things had gotten kind of awkward and the two of you barely stayed in the same room together except whilst sleeping. All your things were in boxes and you were trying to keep everything together until you could return to the confines of your room.

Taehyung got a call getting dressed up, you were happily eating dinner scrolling through pictures on your phone dreading going into work the next day. Taehyung getting dressed up meant he was going out and he wouldn’t be back until late, if at all.

You took a shower in Taehyung’s ensuite and sat on your bed in the corner moisturising your body, trying to take care of your skin as much as possible. Like all the nights previously the conversation between Taehyung and yourself replayed.

He asked you if you were awake and said his name and you would say yes and he would slowly walk over… No. He would ask and you would slyly walk to his bed. You would ask him, if he wanted you to say his name. Your hands would slide over his bare chest and he would pull you onto him and you would straddle… He would pull you onto the bed and cage you with his body, yes that's much better.

You were seconds from letting your hand dive under the waistband of your pants when you got a notification from snapchat. Taehyung probably wasn’t coming home tonight judging by the girl he was grinding with on the dance floor.

The urge was gone and now you were bitter, you were about to call it a night when you received a text. Hoseok was asking you if you had finished the documents for work and if you could send them to him but you had other ideas calling him up.

“Hey, y/n?” He asked confused

“Hey, about those documents?” you started you looked at them on the corner desk “I have them here but I can’t send them to you, could you just stop by and pick them up tonight, that way you have them over the weekend to work on the report.”

“Oh good idea, I can come over now if it isn’t too late?”

“No, it is perfectly okay” You grinned, hanging up and watching Taehyung's snapchat once more, standing you searched through the boxes and grabbed a beautiful set of lingerie and a satin robe. Sitting in the lounge waiting patiently for him to arrive, you weren’t going to jump him you were just going to offer.

The doorbell rang and you let him in, he stepped inside eyeing you, “you look really comfy,” he said and you noticed the robe had fallen open.

“Ah, yeah I was just doing the dishes,” you gave a coy smile “Do you want something to drink, we can brainstorm about this report business?”

“Sure, what have you got?”

The two of you were working and Hoseok covered his lap with a pillow halfway through the conversation when you ditched the robe. “Hey Hoseok?”

“Yes?” He hummed grabbing his glass and trying to concentrate on the paperwork.

“What would you say if I propositioned you with sex?”

He coughed into his glass of juice and looked at you and you blushed almost chickening out. “You don’t have to but I am offering if you were interested, that is?” He placed all the papers back into the folder and into his bag and you thought you had blown it and he was leaving but he placed the bag aside and gazed at you with his stern eyes.

“Are you sure you want to ask this of me?” He breathed standing striding closer his pants tented and right near your face as he stood in front of you. He took your face by the chin and tilted it to look up at him. “I am a man of particular taste, are you sure you want to ask me?”

“Yes” you snickered he was acting so serious it was strange he was always such a happy guy, you would never expect him to—

“Yes, sir.” He said and you felt your heart skip a beat and your breathing turn shallow. Unable to stop your lip quivering from the uncertainty of how to react. “Are you sure you want to ask me?” He pressed a little more earnestly.

“Yes sir” you breathe automatically and he groaned the sound wasn’t as deep or as breathy as Taehyungs but had a similar authoritative tone. You were so excited that all thoughts of Taehyung were pushed aside and all there was running through your head was Hoseok. He reached down removing your robe and licking his lips in delight the fire in his eyes sparking.

He unbuttoned his shirt and you couldn’t help but kiss his bare chest and run your palms along the toned stomach that hid underneath his button up shirt. Hoseok was on the outside a lean guy, but once you stripped his clothes away he had an athletic build.

You were happy when he smacked your hands away and began unbuttoning his pants. He used his left hand to caress your face where he pressed his thumb to your lips. You kept your eyes locked on his gorgeous brown eyes until you heard the teeth of his zip purr as the two sides slowly fell apart.

He noticed your eyes flicker away and he hooked his thumb on your cheek and pulled you to look at him once more. “Did I say you could look?” Your heart was racing, as he reached into his boxers and let himself stand free without restraint.

You couldn’t help letting your lips enclose around his thumb letting your tongue swipe against him. Pulling you by the jaw until you were looking at his hard cock which was starting to dribble some sticky precum from the head. Hoseok’s chest was barely moving in anticipation his breathing had grown shallow.

“Okay darling, if you ever need me to stop the safe word is, Hope and the nonverbal safe signal is a triple tap with whatever you got; your hand, foot, just tap me three times baby and we will stop, okay?” He was looking genuinely concerned and you nodded eyes not leaving the beads slowly traveling to the base of his cock. He pulled your jaw until you looked at him once more.

“Yes sir, the safe word is Hope and the nonverbal safe signal is three taps” you demonstrated tapping your thigh with your hand and your eyes flickered to his hard on.

“You are going to need to be taught how to pay attention to your master, but it can’t be helped right now can it?” He sighed, removing his thumb from your mouth, “Suck it”

The command made you clench around nothing and your tongue was quick to seek the stray beads before taking him in your mouth, he was big which made having your mouth full feel satisfying. “Tell me can, I fuck this pretty mouth of yours?” He said softly running his fingers through your hair and you agreed with him still in your mouth the answer muffled.

His fingers tightened in your hair pulling making you gasp, he was soon holding each side of your head in his hands and started thrusting using his hands to guide you as well. You felt yourself gag and tears formed in your eyes. It was erotic to see him having the time of his life, he was like Taehyung in many ways but this was their difference Hoseok was all business and pleasure and no real emotions. Which was good because you had feelings elsewhere.

He was rough and his thumbs wiped your tears from your eyes and smudged your mascara, “You going to swallow my pet” though it was a question it was said almost as a command. But Hoseok was the type of guy to not push you to do anything you didn’t want. He was just lost in pleasure and was asking so you could answer in time before he did something you wouldn’t like.

It was almost laughable how drastically Hoseok changed from your colleague and friend to this demon. You let him finish and he pressed himself deep into your throat and his pants were a testament to his hard work. He let you catch your breath before lifting you over his shoulder and carrying you to Taehyung’s bedroom.

“Don’t worry Tae is out all night” You confirmed with Hoseok and he threw you onto his bed. You knew you should have corrected him that yours was the other bed but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

Not when you could smell the sweet scent of Taehyung pressing your nose into the pillows. With your head spinning with his aroma you could pretend you were with Taehyung.

“Perfect.” He adjusted his pants to fall around his thighs and left you dressed in your lingerie pulling your panties to the side and running his fingers against your heat. “You are so wet for me aren’t you?”

He pressed his fingers inside with a deep groan and you wished it was something a little more, deeming you ready he put a condom on and pressed inside you stretching you until you felt full.

Using the hand that wasn’t supporting your body you reached down to stimulate your clit. This was exactly what you wanted, this is what you imagined Taehyung to feel like inside you.

The sweet scent wasn’t sickly but soft and fluttery, it was like breathing in the softest most delicate cotton. The musk though was so light made you feel so heavy and relaxed. You gripped the sheets imagining your face pressed against the heat of Taehyung's neck.

Hoseok was mercilessly snapping his hips into you making your body pulse with pleasure, you could remember how he sounded letting the memory of his voice fill you.

The wet sounds between you and Hoseok and Taehyung and Alana, you could combine it all until in your head it was Taehyung fucking you deliciously into the mattress.

Moving so he could stand and you could be on all four on the bed he was able to pick up the pace and you gasped arms and legs shaking you were trying to hold your orgasm back trying to build up the feeling and feel good for as long as possible. Your hands had found Taehyung’s sleep shirt which you pulled close and buried your face into.

“What the Fuck!” Taehyung said from the doorway, your eyes connected to his, he shamelessly looked over your body and his eyes locked on yours. It was too much, your mouth fell open breathing a broken rendition of his name.

“Tae-hyung” you came, body almost convulsing with the strength of the pleasure. But Hoseok didn’t stop, your arms had given way your chest pressed into the mattress and he held your hips fucking you.

You were a mess clutching the sheets drooling slightly and he thrusted forward burying himself deep inside you cumming into the condom he was wearing and pulling out.

“Sorry about that, did we get the wrong room?” hoseok buttoned and zipped his pants.

“Get out!” Taehyung said visibly pissed and you lowered your head, tears in your eyes.

You were mortified at getting caught. Grabbing your things you ran off to the shower sniffling and wiping tears from your cheeks. Why did he have to come home? You just wanted to forget about him and move on but he just kept ruining everything.

You were in the shower for probably twenty minutes hoping he would just go to sleep. And forget it all.

“Oi don’t hide in there we have to talk,” he called clearly not sharing the same sentiment.

“I don’t want to talk?” You called the humiliation washing over you again causing fresh tears to mingle with the warm water.

“Look normal people don’t just have sex in someone else’s bed”

“Normal people don’t barge in when they hear people having sex” You cried back “Look I am sorry. Sleep in my bed, we got carried away and it was too late to stop him” you lied

“but I want to forget it, I want you to forget it okay” Just go to bed and we can pretend this never happened.

“I can’t really forget it” He hummed “You were bent over like a bitch letting your friend from work fuck you while you clutched my shirt. Do you think I can forget that?”

“I thought you were better than that, you know you can do better than your work colleague, how desperate were you, letting some man you don’t really care about fuck you.” Taehyung sighed and the disappointment and disgust was coming through loud and clear. Of course it was all in your head, your crush was always one sided. “Not to mention sneaking around while I’m out. Next time text me or something”

“Like your perfect you know I walked in on you and Alana, and did I shout and make a fuss no I grabbed my things and left.” You hissed through the door, “Like a normal fucking person.”

“Like you didn’t enjoy it, I know you have been getting off thinking about me,” He mocked “listening to me and sneaking glances all while squirming under the covers.”

Your eyes were burning. Pulling on your nightgown you grabbed your phone off the basin and walked out. He was standing there waiting and you ducked past him grabbing your handbag and jumper.

“Where are you going? It’s three in the morning” He sighed and when you didn’t answer he grabbed your arm pulling you around to face him. “Hey…”

He went to grab your arm trying to stop you and you threw your fist. He let it collide with his chest. You left and walked to the curb calling Jimin. “Hey can I come over?” You sniffed taking a cab to his house while he soothed you over the phone.

You made it to Jimin’s home and he pulled you into a hug. He wrapped you in his arms and the two of you laid in bed, his fingers brushing through your damp hair. “It is okay, you are safe, breathe,”

“I am an idiot, I had a stupid crush and I hate that I wasted my time on some asshole, the worst part is the hoping he would like me too, that hope that we would one day confess and we would be together. I should have known no one would love me”

“I love you,” Jimin smiled sweetly, tickling your sides making you giggle.

“That doesn’t count, you love everyone,” he grinned cheekily wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

“That doesn’t mean it is any less true,” He smiled taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Can I kiss you sweetheart?”

“I don’t want to get involved with anyone at the moment Jimin, things are so complicated and I am—”

“You are stressing, that’s what you are” Jimin sat up his hands squeezing your sides and rolling you onto your back massaging your hips trying to calm you “You need to relax, this isn’t about me or anyone else, this is about you and showing you how you deserved to be treated”

“Will you let me show you, it won’t mean anything sweet heart I promise, it will be just like with Yoongi, you are safe and allowed to feel good” He breathed letting his fingertips ghost up your body palming your flesh softly.

You moaned and gave him the affirmation he had been waiting for before he kissed your body slowly stripping you out of your nightgown. Jimin wasn’t lying when he said it was all about you, he made you feel so special, he made you feel loved and wanted and safe. He didn’t once ask for anything he just listened to your body. So much so that you started vocalizing your desires making the experience much more intense.

He laid between your thighs hooking your legs over his shoulders and started worshiping you diligently. He was quick to figure out what was real and what was fake his hands took yours lacing your fingers together. His hands were so warm and you honestly had no thoughts in your head. You couldn’t only feel and it felt warm and soft and stable.

Jimin made sure to exhaust you completely, he pushed you further, praising you all without taking his pants off. He pulled you to the dry side of the mattress and pulled you to his chest covering you in the blankets he held your trembling form while you passed out.

The next morning Jimin dressed you in some of his more feminine clothes and drove you to a cafe and the two of you had a great day. Things were a little awkward when you called Hoseok but you remembered Jimin’s words. “Hoseok thank you for yesterday, really I appreciate it” You smiled you shouldn’t make feeling pleasure a sin.

You had effectively forgotten or perhaps repressed the bad parts of the night and focused on the good. That night you came home to see the living room illuminated by a small bedside lamp. “Oh you are back, where were you this time?” The cynical voice of Taehyung creeping across the dark space between you. “Yoongi’s, Namjoon’s with your work friend Hobo”

“His name is Hobi and no I was with Jimin,” You sighed dropping your bag onto the armchair, trying to strike up a civil conversation to alleviate the issues that arose the previous evening.

“Of course, he was dying to get into your pants wasn’t he” Taehyung said “and you must be desperate, letting anyone have their way with you—”

You cut him off with a punch to the chest and continued to throw punches, “I hate you, Taehyung, I hate you and your stupid face, I never want to see you again,” he pinned your wrists above your head, kissing you hard on the mouth.

He knew he was only angry because he was jealous. Everytime he thought about you and another man it made his blood boil. He pressed you to the wall and kissed you hard wanting to erase all other tastes from your mouth. All he could taste was toothpaste.

The more he felt your lips on his, the calmer he felt. You tried to kick him away, not because you didn’t like the kiss because you were angry at him for the way he treated you but most of all you were angry that you liked this, that the little bead of hope in your otherwise broken heart grew unreasonably large with expectations.

“I got out of hand, I was Jealous,” He groaned as he could have sworn he felt you kiss him back, you pushed him away again and this time he let you, nodding at the floor. “You looked at me and said my name whilst cumming and it was so fucking hot, but then I remember it was him inside you”

He looked back up at you, pulling your head back by your hair and biting down on your neck a little too harshly. Letting out a cry; heat blooming within your core as your pulse drums deep inside you.

He pressed himself against you, his hard length firm against your thigh. “I wanted you to see, I wanted you to see me like that, to see me as a man. To entice you, I let you hear. I knew you would be awake. I knew when you would come home from work, I wanted to make you jealous, but it seems I am the one who was left feeling bitter”

“I remember you admitting whilst drunk how much sound turns you on,” He whispered the last words softly in your ear. “I wanted to do impure things to you”

“Taehyung,” It almost surprised you how quickly you had gotten over your anger and embarrassment. Letting your hands go, he began removing his shirt and you grabbed at the clothes you had borrowed from Jimin shedding them with reckless abandon. He pushed you up the wall and pressed himself against you. He smirked watching you gasp in reaction to the purr of his zip.

He thanked you for forgetting your underwear the night you left as he grinded against you. He pressed his hard and thick length against your hot wet folds. He bit his lip groaning hard in his throat because all he wanted was to be buried inside you. More than he had ever wanted with anyone else. He wanted to fill you up with his cock and fuck you until your walls crashed around him.

His dick twitched and he couldn’t wait any longer, lifting you up in his arms, the muscles of his arms taut and veins prominent. He began lowering you onto his length, arms shaking. There was nothing he wanted more than to pull you down, to sheath himself inside you, but he knew he was big, it was his own personal hell.

Taehyung wasn’t shy, he begged and mewled the whole time. You moaned his name and his hips involuntarily bucked, fuck he wanted to let himself go, he wanted to pound you into the mattress, he wanted to fuck better than all the others. Hissing through his teeth he sent a warning, especially since you had decided to tease his neck with your tongue and teeth.

“Don’t play me baby, I can barely hold on as it is” The feeling of his cock slowly stuffing inside you was amazing. He was surprised a part of him honestly didn’t believe he would fit, and he couldn’t help when his knees almost buckled as you clenched experimentally around his shaft..

“Fuck…” He growled and took his time letting you fully adjust to him, when you were firmly seated and comfortable with his length and girth, he walked you slowly to the room. Laying you onto his bed, he took his sleep shirt, from the pillows and covered your eyes.

He fucked you just how he always imagined he would. He wasn’t playing fair. He had been purposefully making salacious sounds in your ear, accompanied by his grip on your waist as he bucked into you; the fierce ‘thwop, thwop, thwop’ sound driving you mad. His tone was guttural and deep. You heard his voice shake as he swore under his breath.

His hand pressed against the lower portion of your stomach so you could feel him deep inside you. The pressure was intense, “Right here baby, I am going to fill you up nice and round, fuck it so deep”

“Fuck Tae, Please” you begged

“Fuck this sweet little pussy, make sure no other man can satisfy you” He thought about Yoongi, Jimin and that overtly enthusiastic colleague of yours and worked harder. He truly wanted to ruin you. He wanted to be the only one to get to hear you like this. He came to the sound of you breathing his name, your voice shuddering as your body shook your walls squeezed him in waves milking him for all he had.

You were gasping for air, that was unlike anything you had ever experienced. You could have sworn as you came you blacked out for a split second from the pleasure but you weren’t too sure. What you were sure of was the aftershocks, your body was tensing in the same wave like pattern.

“Y/n, I am sorry, I treated you so badly,” He took a deep breath “I have gone about this whole thing the wrong way”

“What way did you intend to go,” You finally sat up, the feeling of your swollen clit brushing the fabric of the bed made your body twitch.

“I have been stupidly in love with you since the night you baked steamed buns and we talked about everything we could think off. And... well I got jealous and I know you still didn’t deserve it. You owed nothing to me and could be with whoever you want. I was just being selfish,” He sighed, tucking your head into his chest as you laid side by side. “I am sorry, but if you give me a chance I promise to love you and care for you and I will try to be better for you”

“Tae, I had loved you for a very long time, and though I still love you, I want you to earn that love, I won’t just give it away after everything you did” You said nervously unable to look at him in the eyes. He pressed his forehead to yours his nose pressed to your cheek.

“I will make you fall for me again and again” He smirked determinedly

94 notes · View notes

rosedavid · 3 years

Note

"Wearing clothes in their favorite color." for david/patrick!

thank you so much for the prompt!! i’m sorry it took so long!!! hope you enjoy it :)

Title: How I Missed You

Word Count: 1,368

Warnings: Implied Sexual Content

AO3 Link

David presses Patrick against the wall outside of Patrick’s apartment, and their lips meet so forcefully that their teeth clank together a bit. That doesn’t deter either of them, though. Patrick merely tilts his head to readjust their position, arms tightening around David’s waist as they continue to kiss.

It’s been a whole week that Patrick has been away at his business conference. While Patrick thought it was a good idea at the time as a way to continue to improve their business model and revenue for Rose Apothecary, he completely underestimated how difficult it would be to go without being with David for that long. The first few days weren’t terrible, although Patrick constantly found himself turning to his side, as if to quip something to David, only to remember David was back in Schitt’s Creek. Still, he survived the first few days, busy with the beginnings of the conference.

After the first few days passed, Patrick discovered that he never knew he could miss someone so much. Every thought seemed to be geared toward David, and his mind wandered toward David even when he was supposed to be paying attention to a presentation. Of course they texted and talked on the phone, but that’s nothing compared to the real thing, the feeling of David wrapped around him like in that moment. Patrick secretly hoped that David yearned for him just as much during their time apart, and based on the way David came out from his apartment and pounced on him, he would say David missed him, too.

Patrick’s tongue slides into David’s mouth. The kiss is warm and wet and sloppy. Patrick’s lungs hurt from the lack of oxygen, but he keeps kissing David for as long as he possibly can until they’re forced to pull back for more air, both panting heavily, foreheads pressed together. David whines, nose nudging against Patrick’s cheek.

“Missed you,” David sighs, bringing him in for a few more, short kisses.

“Mmmh, missed you, too,” Patrick murmurs. “Missed you so much.”

They fumble their way back into the apartment, still attached as much as possible. Patrick smiles softly as he sees David’s stuff throughout his apartment, stuff that wasn’t there when Patrick left. It’s a real testament to how much David missed him if he stayed at Patrick’s apartment even when Patrick wasn’t there.

They gravitate toward the sofa. David sits on the armrest, while Patrick finds his way between David’s legs and leans down slightly to meet his lips again. David worms his arms up and around Patrick’s neck, Patrick’s hand on his thighs. Every point of contact sends a rush of passion and adoration through Patrick. David’s hands comb through his hair, while Patrick breaks his lips apart from David’s to press kisses down his jaw to his pulse point. David moans breathily in his ear.

Tired of leaning over, Patrick maneuvers them both onto the couch, where they are almost sitting in each other’s laps.

“Too many clothes,” David groans, tugging at the zipper on Patrick’s jacket while simultaneously kissing Patrick.

So caught up in the moment, Patrick momentarily forgets about what he’s actually wearing until it’s too late. With the jacket shrugged off, David’s hands make his way back around Patrick, fingers clenching into the very soft fabric. That’s when David freezes, lips turned into a confused pout as he pulls away from their kiss.

“David,” Patrick complains, chasing after his lips.

“Uh, Patrick, what is this?” David asks, voice high as he fingers the plush fabric.

And suddenly, Patrick remembers the sweater. Actually, the multiple sweaters that he bought while he was at his conference. He was missing David especially one night, wandering around the bigger town when he saw an upscale fashion boutique that David might deem slightly less horrendous than the usual clothing options in a small town. Patrick had ventured in there, gaze immediately drawn to the collection of soft, slightly pricey sweaters. Patrick knew David would never be seen in one of them, but the monochrome aesthetic reminded him so much of his boyfriend that Patrick ended up trying on and buying three sweaters in varying shades of black and white, softer and fancier than anything he’s ever owned.

The sweater that Patrick currently has on is the black, fuzzy one that is just the slightest bit too long on the sleeves but fits the rest of him perfectly. David holds Patrick back by the shoulders as he glances over the sweater, mouth parted slightly, and brows furrowed.

“It’s a sweater,” Patrick replies.

David glares at him. “Okay, but this sweater is actually half-way decent? I mean, it’s no Givenchy, but it’s made of nice fabric and it fits you well, and it’s not Brewer blue.”

“Brewer blue?”

“Yes, Brewer blue! Because you always wear that same shade of blue button-downs, besides for like two other shirts. But black? You never wear black! And you never wear sweaters! So this has to be new.”

Patrick chuckles. “I bought the sweaters in the town at my conference one day. I just thought they looked nice.”

“Sweaters, as in multiple?! You bought more than one?” David asks, looking around.

“They’re in my suitcase, and I’m sure I’ll be forced to show you them later.”

David cocks his head. “I’m very confused. Why would you buy these? Not that you don’t look dashing in that sweater, but the whole monochrome sweater is more my look.”

“I—” Patrick starts, but stops because it’s kind of embarrassing to admit that he bought the sweaters just because he thought David would like them on him since they matched with David’s own style. Patrick’s lack of speech obviously alerts David, who smirks at him.

“Wait…did you buy these because of me?”

Patrick flushes, cheeks and ears hot. He doesn’t want David to laugh at him, so he tries to focus his gaze elsewhere while also scooting further apart.

“Sweetheart, stay here,” David coos, wrapping an arm around Patrick’s shoulder and tugging him into his side. “Don’t worry, I think it’s cute.”

From where his head buries into David’s collarbone, Patrick mutters, “You do? It’s not cheesy?”

“Oh, no it’s really cheesy, but also really cute. I’ve never had someone miss me enough to buy something just because it reminded them of me.”

Patrick brings himself to lift his face up out of David’s collar to meet his eyes. “What would you say if I told you that these sweaters were actually for you to wear.”

A series of very amusing emotions flit over David’s face. “Hmm, well, I mean, I would be very flattered, and these sweaters are nicer than what you would find in Schitt’s Creek, but these are obviously still machine washable and the stitching is very sloppy and coming apart in a few places—”

“Don’t worry, David, they’re for me,” Patrick interrupts, smiling cheekily.

“Well, in that case, I like them very, very much,” David says, shimmying his shoulders as he eyes Patrick again. “But you know that you don’t have to wear these for me.”

“You’d be okay with me wearing blue-button ups for the rest of my life?”

And much to Patrick’s surprise, David responds, “As incorrect as most of your fashion is, it’s also yours. I couldn’t imagine you not wearing them, at this point.”

“Aww, David, you like my button-ups!”

“Okay, well, like is a very strong word—”

Patrick laughs, unable to help himself any longer as he cups David’s jaw and pulls him in for another searing kiss. He feels their identical smiles as their lips press together.

David pulls away again. “That being said, if you choose to wear those sweaters some days, I would not be opposed…”

“Oh? You want me to keep the sweater on right now, then?” Patrick teases, fingers inching up David’s leg.

David shakes his head back and forth vigorously. “Nope, nope, we can revisit the sweater later.”

“Are you sure? It’s actually really soft. I might just chill here for a bit—”

“Patrick, if you don’t take that sweater off right now, there’s no way you’ll be able to wear it again.”

#schitts creek #schitt's creek #schitts creek fanfic #david x patrick #brewerrose #schitts creek fanfiction #schitt's creek fanfic #fanfiction

19 notes · View notes

wayhaving · 3 years

Note

8 & rory/a for the physical affection prompts? 😊

my head’s getting heavy, pressed against your arm

HI!! TYSM!! (i lovvvveeee your writing btw!!!) 🥺😭💕

(again this is so so so old, i’m finally finishing all these like MONTHS old prompts. 😭)

8. brushing hands by accident

she’s not drunk.

she’s not.

the wobble of her too-high high heels, nor the smeared streaks of mascara around her eyes, nor the strap of her deep red dress falling down her shoulder told the story of a drunk woman, which she is not.

at least that’s what she’s telling herself.

what she’s not telling herself, is the all-true story of the night, and the events that unraveled leaving her to her disheveled state—and if she has her way the amount of alcohol she’d consumed would leave it that way, completely unbenknownst to the mistakes she’s made tonight.

the moon shines heavy on her, interrogating and illuminating all that she wishes to hide, and she feels vulnerable. vulnerable to the things that go bump in the night, ones she’s so woefully aware of now, but more so vulnerable to the people.

the people of wayhaven, her friends, her family, her team. and really, just the one specific member that has her turned all inside out, except now she’s completely bare and it’s not his fault (and she almost wishes it was).

they can see her. their eyes are on her. the eyes are watching and they can see her stumble on the sidewalk with her purse clutched lazily in her hand. they can see her with tears in her eyes and messy dark hair that’s fallen out of its intricate updo.

and as much as rory wants to lay the blame on everything but her, (on the night, on the present, on him—adam) she has no one else to blame but herself, and that’s possibly worse than anything else.

she sniffles, running a hand down her face, the cool air of autumn a welcome breeze to her reddened face but a terrifying sting to the rest of her body—the tiny maroon dress did nothing for insulation.

it was a beautiful dress, with ruffles down the side hugging her curves, low on her chest showing everything it needed to and more, held up by thin straps. when she put it on, she didn’t think she was doing it justice, and now, it feels even worse on her skin.

a stupid, stupid mistake.

an expensive one, and now she has to pay.

but even still, the mistake doesn’t live up to the pain, it doesn’t live up to the sting of rejection or the gullibility of her actions. a fool, she thinks, i’m an absolute fool.

to think he was interested, to think he truly meant those apologies, and all they were good for— platitudes whispered like sweet nothings in my ear and i fell for it.

and then she thinks, perhaps, she’s desperate, looking for affection and validation in anyone, because of who she couldn’t get it from. but then fuck that, love is not life and they should never intertwine, and she’s never thought of herself to be so helpless but here she is, wide-eyes rimmed with red, heart dutifully open and on her sleeve. because love is in her heart and she has a lust for life.

but she’s not like this, she doesn’t do this.

she doesn’t dress up like this, drink as if it’s the end of the world like this, cry a river on the sidewalk like this.

but, he’s got her fucked up like this, drunk under a streetlight like this, making critical mistakes like this.

and she hates it, loathes it, abhorred by the choices she’s made to garner attention from the only man she’s ever wanted it from, it makes her skin crawl. that he has such an effect on her. that she brought herself to this conclusion, that... bobby was her salvation.

and she was wrong.

she knew it when he called her late at night asking if she wanted to get dinner soon. she knew it when she bought a sexy red dress from the store at the very same time adam’s patrol was cutting through town. she knew it when bobby was an hour late to the restaurant. she knew it when bobby had called her baby, and apologized, kept his hand on her thigh. she knew it when he left in the middle of date.

she knew it when she found him in the alleyway on the phone.

she knew it when she heard him say, “i’m pulling the information from her now.”

“yea, she’s easy—she has no idea.”

and she knew she fucked up. she knew he could never change, that he’s just the same as he was during her college days. just as sleazy, and just as manipulative, playing on her weaknesses.

and it’s sucks, falling for the obvious. being told there’s a shooting star in the sky, and looking up only to be the fallen victim, laughing-stock. when he said jump, she jumped and didn’t even ask how high.

she decides it doesn’t matter, not now at least. it comes and goes in waves, and right now she’s determined to hold on to a little bit of her dignity. she wipes her hand under her eyes, black-stained tears collect on her fingertips, as she sniffles and takes in a shaky breath of air. it stings as it infiltrates her lungs.

the sky is inky, beautiful purple’s and blue’s, a sky she’s never appreciated before but it offers her some clarity. the stars whisper, a testament to her sins.

high-rising red brick buildings surround her as the town square comes into view, there’s a lack of people wandering around, and for good reason. the clock atop the library reads ‘1:34 am’.

rory doesn’t even see the man across the street, aviators tucked into his shirt, hands shoved in the pockets of his hands. and even though he’s close enough to tell, she doesn’t see the way his brows furrow.

he’s a million miles away and he’s just across the square, hidden behind evergreen leaves and branches sticking out like thieves in the night. and he watches, from afar, wondering, feet twisting. does he go?

there shouldn’t have been a doubt in his mind. that once he saw her in obvious distress, his arms should be around her but things are never cut so clear. things are never left out to dry like this, and feelings are so messy. yet adam wants so badly to get his hands dirty. he’s a white shirt and she’s every bad decision he’ll ever make.

so, even though it takes a second (several, actually) he makes his way over to her. his hands are nervous in his pockets, he can feel the cool air on his face like he’s never felt it before, it freezes, cuts on his sharp jaw. everything is amped up around her.

and it’s dangerous to feel things so intensely—feel these feelings, at all.

when he nears her close enough, she turns her head. immediately, her posture strengthens, she picks up her fallen strap, and forces a smile.

“detective.”

“agent.”

his mouth twitches and he threatens to say something he’ll regret, stops himself from gathering her into his arms, and taking her home. reprimanding her for her decisions, brushing the hair from her face and telling her it’ll be alright. leave her warm and comfortable and say goodnight like all of the good boyfriends do. like real people do.

but he doesn’t even bridge the gap.

he thinks it’s already been burned.

he shouldn’t have said it to her. said that she means nothing to him. that she’s just a causality. a mistake. an error.

he shouldn’t have turned his back. shouldn’t have left her wanting. shouldn’t have kept her tucked in his pocket, folded up in discretion. shouldn’t have held her once and said never again. shouldn’t have left her in the rain standing at the warehouse door. shouldn’t have kissed her and forgot the taste. shouldn’t have told her goodbye and shouldn’t have held her eyes in his own.

he shouldn’t have loved her. love her. he shouldn’t have kept it to himself.

but he did, and he does still. he still feels the ignorance on the outside, terrible sweetness in his veins. someone should’ve told him honey burns more than vinegar.

and somehow his heart never intervenes. but god, it longs to. but he knows irrationality, all too well, and it always stops him. always pulls him back. the draw. he’s never as far along as he wants to be.

an apology is on the tip of his tongue, cliches tipping the scales—its love. it’s love. it’s love. but the words are lost on him, as they always are. if only he could tell her.

so he sheds his coat, and before she can object he places it on her shoulders. he hears a sniffle as she pulls it closer. she doesn’t say anything, but the smile has faded and her lips are tight.

he doesn’t say anything either, instead he walks alongside her, hand dangling at his side. afraid to push her over, push her away. he swears, the trouble his mouth makes.

it’s minutes. or hours. time is malleable between them. it never makes any logical sense, like everything else trapped in their perfect storm. but rory’s apartment comes into view much quicker than either of them likes.

and then his hand brushes hers, and she stops. she turns to him and pulls her hand to her chest.

in the moment she wonders what to say, if there is anything to say. she’s content with the silence, everything has gotten so foggy, distant in her head, it’s all so fucked in her mind. there’s not much left to interpret, thoughts speakinf like tongues,

but adam opens his mouth, and rory cuts him off with the wave of her hand.

crickets scream quietly behind them.

“don’t,” she whispers. “you don’t have to say anything.”

adam wants to speak, by god, he wants to tell her everything he’s held back and all the problems he’s made and all the things he could resolve if only—

if only nothing, no ‘ifs’, ‘buts,’ or ‘whens’.

but then he was never a man of many words.

he waits, waits to gauge her reaction, but she walks past him, gathering her keys in her unorganized purse. stomping up the stairs to her apartment door, and adam follows. for safety, he thinks, but he’s there like a lost puppy.

she jams the key in the door, but she doesn’t turn it.

and then.

her forehead falls heavy on the doorframe. slumping down, and a burst of tears. adam works quickly to hold her up.

“i hate you,” she says, as he cradles her. head pressed against his chest as one arm reaches past her and to the key nestled in the door. he opens it, and pushes through.

“i know.”

he doesn’t bother to turn on the lights. he doesn’t need to. through the living room and through the kitchen, all the way to the bedroom in the back, he carries her, sets her down gently onto her sheets.

“i hate how much i need you.”

she sits up, and before she can protest he helps her with her heels.

“i hate how much i want you.”

he sets the heels by her bed, drops her purse on the nightstand.

and then he leaves into the kitchen, pours her a glass of water with a cup from the cupboard he knows they’re in because he knows her, he knows her space. he knows her home.

and he enters again, with the water, and an ibuprofen for the raging headache he knows she has.

“i hate how much i love you.”

he doesn’t stop, even though the shock should, but all he can do is drag his head across the floor in disappointment, in a somber sadness that only he created for himself.

“i know.”

so, he tucks her in and he kisses her forehead goodnight. he clicks the door shut. and in a whisper as quiet as he can manage—

“i love you, too.”

#yea this is cringy!!#what abt it!!#the wayhaven chronicles #twc detective #detective rory parker #twc #adam du mortain #writing

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weakzen · 4 years

Text

Taking the Stares

The Detective uses the stairwell to her advantage for a kiss—or so she thinks.

pairing: female detective/mason rating: m wc: 2k+ prompt fill: 20. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.

AO3 version

Mason pushes the door open with his hip and leans against it, holding it open for me.

Waiting for me to pass. Waiting for me to head up first.

Like he's done every single time since Unit Bravo first rolled into town.

Back then, he did it with scowls. Folded arms. Heavy gazes dead ahead. Barks at me to hurry up too, if I took longer than a second—and I frequently did, strolling with a sly smirk and deliberate slowness, just to piss him off. But regardless of our bouts of mutual antagonism and his overall assholish demeanor, he still slammed those stairwell doors open for me and waited, always letting me head up in front of him.

Today, I run my hand over his stomach as I pass, stroking a squiggle across the thin fabric of his shirt, enjoying the dip of his inhale, and the way his abs tense with anticipation, and then the broad smile I leave on his face when my fingers depart.

I head up the stairs without looking back. The door to the basement slams shut behind us and Mason's footsteps soon join mine, echoing loudly against the concrete and corroding pipes.

It took me a while to realize why he held those doors. An embarrassingly long while. I thought he was trying to unnerve me at first. Take advantage of the terrain and isolation. Get me to walk in front of him so he could follow behind, directly in my blind spot, unseen and unheard through the echoing cacophony, discernible only by that piercing gaze and the smirk that dug into my backside and the way he used both to make the tension between my shoulderblades wind just a little bit tighter with every subsequent step climbed on those long ascents.

That was definitely part of his motivation back then, fucking with me, but I was too focused on that aspect to pay attention to the more obvious and glaring explanation for his actions. Which, is either a testament to my ability to fixate on something to the exclusion of everything else, or a total condemnation of my single-minded obliviousness, because Mason is not exactly subtle.

Not with his words, when they come at all. Not with his actions, when he cares enough to try.

Not with those hard, roaming, and near tangible stares of his, either.

Truly, a master of visual undress and eye fucking across a room.

And of making sure he's always in position to blatantly ogle my ass while he does both.

A wide grin pulls at my lips and I whirl around suddenly before I crest the first landing, arms folded as I stand above him.

“You staring at my ass again, sunshine?”

My accusation echoes off the walls and, four steps down, he doesn't bother to pretend he wasn't. His eyes linger on my crotch for a moment, smirk slowly widening, before he flicks his gaze up to meet mine.

“Not anymore.”

He continues upward, footsteps echoing, that gaze locked unblinking on mine as he advances step by step until he stops on the one below me, eyes level with each other and our mouths only a heartbeat apart.

But he closes that distance quickly enough.

Mason's lips press against mine in lazy nibbles, slow kisses with gently scraping stubble and soft bumps of nose and even softer sighs of pleasure. His hands find their usual spot on my hips, thumbs hooked in my belt loops, long fingers curling over the curve of my ass, but not quite cupping. Not sliding down to grope or squeeze.

Maybe it's because my hands are busy cupping his face for once, now that I can easily reach.

His cheeks are warm beneath my touch, the edge of his jaw sharp in my palms, and sharper still at the back corners, where my fingers curl into him and find shifting purchase as his mouth moves against my own. I swipe my thumbs across his cheeks, through the scratch of hair and out over soft, smooth skin and the expanse of countless freckles I could easily see, if I were to open my eyes.

I do. Just to make sure they're still there.

And to enjoy the sight of them, dappled beneath those long, dark lashes.

At least, until his eyes snap open as well.

Our lips slow, coming to a still, then to a part, with a sticky kiss that echoes faintly around the stairwell too, but we don't move far. Our mouths continue to brush together, breath mingling, exhales fanning gently over swollen lips and flushed skin as we stare at each other. His eyes gleam with playfulness, grey depths warmed with amusement and want, softened with heavy lids and faint creases at the corners and…

…what I might call affection, from this vantage, now that I can easily see.

Heat floods my cheeks anew, and Mason pulls me forward by the hips and the loops until our chests bump together and then he's kissing me again. Deeper. More purposefully. Affectionately, too, in a way I can't deny.

In a way that makes my eyes squeeze shut as well, and forces a whimper from my throat, and fills my chest with so much swelling fondness that I just… ache.

I never thought all those steps we climbed back then were leading here, to this exact instant, to this particular spot, to us pressed together and swaying in a familiar embrace. And I don't want to know what else lies ahead of us, how many more embraces we have, if any, or where we might be climbing to next.

I just want to take the steps one at a time. Day by day. Hour by hour.

Moment by moment.

A callout for his staring. A kiss in a stairwell. A consideration for the advantages of terrain and isolation.

I smile against his lips.

And then an unanswered question.

I slide my hands from his cheeks, down his neck, to his shoulders, where I gently, but firmly, nudge him down a step. Mason raises a brow, but doesn't resist. Doesn't keep hold of me either, arms dropping to his sides as he falls back another step until I can see the top of his head, the part in that dark hair I mostly know by touch.

The rest of those wavy locks brush against my hands as I slide up his neck again, and press my thumbs under his jaw to tilt his head back even further. Again, he doesn't resist. Only licks his lips and swallows, eyes darkening as I lean over him.

I wonder if there's anything new he can see of me now, from his vantage, in this moment, the instant before I plunge down to capture his lips with mine.

He receives me eagerly, mouth parting quickly for my tongue and my pace. I guide the kiss and Mason follows, through deep slides together into sharp inhales, breathy turns into lip sucking and parting drags of teeth that make him growl low with pleasure, slower stretches too, softer swirls, where it's just the wet heat and the taste of us and my moans and the silent, urgent need vibrating in his throat beneath my touch.

At some point, his hands come up to skim my legs, fingertips ghosting along the backs of my thighs, but he doesn't quite take hold of me. Doesn't grab or squeeze suggestively.

Maybe it's because he's too busy enjoying my hold on him, the press of my palms against the tendons gliding and shifting in his neck, the feel of my fingers stroking over his soft skin and the prickle of recently shaved stubble, the way I find myself lingering on his pulse, circling it as it throbs hard beneath my thumbs, as he tilts his head back further to give me even better access to him.

As he bares his throat to me entirely, willingly, and without hesitation.

When I pull away to breathe, he continues to follow, rising up on his toes before our lips part with another sticky, echoing kiss. He stays there for the briefest moment afterward, at apex where we stare at each other—and where an unexpected thrill jolts electrically through my body at the sight of him like that, arched up for me, with such eagerness and raw desire. His eyes darken even more as he feels it too, into near blackness, and his hands finally tighten on my thighs, right before he drops back to his heels and glances away.

I bite my lip.

After a moment, I straighten up again, hands sliding to his shoulders once more. “Gotta say, sunshine,” my voice echoes husky and low, “I do like the view from up here.”

Mason scoffs and runs a hand through his hair, but the look in his eye remains.

“Don't get used to it, sweetheart.”

“Why not?” I tease my thumb across his lips, grinning. “You already spend most of your time beneath me.”

He snorts, cracking into a smile before he presses a wet kiss to my fingertip.

“Good point,” he replies, glancing up at me. Dark amusement glitters in his eyes now as he slides his hands to my hips again. “Can't say I don't enjoy the view from below too.”

I cup his cheeks and lean over to kiss him more, but right before we make contact, his grip tightens hard—

Mason smirks deeply.

—then he lifts me up suddenly instead.

“Shit!”

The word echoes sharply through the stairwell as my feet shoot off the ground. I wobble and grab at his forearms instinctively, heartbeat spiking wildly for a moment, but my surprise passes quickly. Then I'm just left hanging in his grasp, legs dangling free, abs tensed for balance, hips slightly above his eye level, and all with that self-satisfied fucking smirk of his blasting up at me.

I know I should probably be at least mildly annoyed from the dick swinging, the reminder that, although I may occasionally have him beat on height, he will always have me beat on strength, but…

Honestly, I'm just fucking impressed.

And a little jealous.

I always am, whenever I witness it. Fucking ridiculous vampires.

He just front raised over fifty fucking kilos like it was nothing—and he's still holding it up, perfectly motionless, at this awkward fucking angle, arms completely straight, with no trembling strain or drooping or sign of fatigue or anything other than just a goddamn beautiful and totally fucking effortlessness display of raw strength.

It took me nearly a decade to even hit fifteen in each hand, and I'm still struggling to push on to twenty.

Fuck, and the sheer mechanical load on his shoulders right now, I just—

I fold my arms and huff out a long breath that trails into a smirk.

“Well, I guess it's higher than I thought you could go.”

The words barely leave my mouth before Mason swings me up directly overhead.

I gasp and tip forward, chest plunging, legs rising, until I'm parallel with the ground, stiffened and balanced, arms extended, with my heart thundering, my ankles tightly crossed, and my mind filled with a whole new appreciation for just how fucking deep those gymnastics instincts were drilled into me as a kid. His hands lock me in place too, grip firm, thumbs digging into my hips to keep me from rotating any further.

At least, for a moment.

He grins up at me, fangs sharp and visible, then slowly starts to tilt my pelvis so my legs go higher.

My braid falls first, unfurling like the damn rope at gym class, and I'm disappointed it doesn't swing directly into his smug face. My necklace falls next, pendant smacking into my mouth and catching between my lips. My shirt tries to fall too, sliding in stutters down my back, but the front tuck holds valiantly.

Blood begins to pool and throb in my face, and my hands come down to rest on his shoulders as well. He keeps rotating me, to the point where our foreheads almost touch and our eyes lock together at a different angle and our mouths are still less than a heartbeat apart.

The grin twitching at my lips matches the widening spread of his—and we come to a simultaneous decision quickly enough.

He leans back slightly and my legs soar even higher to my whoop of joy, until I'm practically vertical.

Until he can stare directly up the neck of my shirt, too.

And from the look in his eye, I can tell he's undoing the clasp on my bra to make my breasts spill free, right before he lowers me to put his face between them. Mason rolls his lips together and groans a low noise of appreciation.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment, shifting me slightly for a better view, “you look great from down here.”

I scoff around the chain on my lips and try to give him a look, but the tomato face and the grin probably ruin it a little—

My shirt falls over my head with a soft plop.

—And so does that.

Mason's bark of laughter echoes loudly throughout the stairwell.

So does mine, slightly more muffled.

I start wobbling a little, and he quickly lowers me over his shoulder before I lose my balance. His arms curl snugly around the back of my thighs, but it isn't long before I feel him staring at my ass again. And it only takes a fraction of the time after that before one of his hands shoots up to start squeezing firm, eager handfuls of me, paired with long, appreciative strokes, and a targeted pat that makes me clench and moan softly.

He starts to climb again while he enjoys himself.

I enjoy his touch too, if not the view. Of white and grey stripes. Because he didn't bother to fix my shirt, of course. Or give me the chance to do it myself. My arms and braid sway back and forth as his footsteps echo, and I huff at the loose strands of hair tickling my face.

A pleasantly undignified half-defeat. A demonstration of shared strength and acrobatics. A question answered beyond the scope.

I smile against the necklace.

And a hand sliding fast up my back too, groping toward my bra clasp.

Fumbling, I reach over to smack his ass first. “I'll give you a wedgie,” I threaten through the shirt.

His hand retreats to my waistband, to my belt loops, where he yanks up suddenly while I squeal and kick out.

“I'll just give you more of one back,” he replies simply, shrugging beneath me.

I smack his ass again, harder.

Mason only chuckles and squeezes me tighter, nuzzling his cheek against me before pressing a lingering kiss to my thigh. Then he resumes his groping as he continues upward, carrying me with a sly smirk and deliberate slowness.

One step at a time.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc mason #twc m #mason x detective #mason #the detective #zfic #alex/mason #alexandra black

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avatraang · 4 years

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Summary: Every once in a while, when they’re out late, the moon will catch her in just the right way. Sokka thinks Yue is trying to tell him something. Yet as Toph sends him a beckoning smile over her shoulder, moonlight glinting against her skin, Sokka pushes the message away.

[Tokka, told through lenses of jealousy. Mentions of Lin and Suyin. Written for Tokka Week 2020: Day 1, Jealousy. Oneshot.]

Notes: It's Tokka Week 2020! Here's my entry for Day One. The prompts for today were Jealousy and Grief, but I decided to stick with just jealousy.A HUGE (!!!) thank you to @cats-and-metersticks for beta'ing this fic for me! She was an absolute badass and has kindly beta'd pretty much every fic that I'm posting this week. I could NOT have done this without her; thank you so much! This fic is inspired by labrinth's "jealous". the title is taken DIRECTLY from one of the lyrics in the song. I haven't seen LOK but I made it as canon-compliant as I possibly could (with my beta’s awesome help, ofc). It takes place throughout a number of years, but not any too crazy time jumps. As per usual, I hope you enjoy.

Preview: It’s raining outside when he notices it for the first time. Well, not it. Her. He’s new in Republic City, so she took a day off to show him around. Katara had expressed her mild surprise that Toph, the Chief of Police, had taken a day off to show Sokka, of all people, around… Toph didn’t even take days off when Zuko came into town, and that was rarer than Sokka’s appearances. Plus, it’s not like he’s leaving any time soon. If all goes well, he’ll win his position on the council and move to Republic City, permanently.

Lin is at school, probably tormenting Tenzin. Katara can’t tag along because she has a patient who is due to give birth any minute now. Aang is at the Northern Water Tribe. And everyone else, is, well… everywhere else. So it’s just him, and Toph, and neither of them can sense when it’s about to rain, so they had been caught, quite suddenly, in a downpour.

“Mother-” Toph swears, gathering the food they’d been eating and wrapping it up, quickly. “Why didn’t you fucking warn me that it was getting dark outside?”

“Hey!” Sokka cries, grabbing their drinks and stuffing it under his shirt, knowing damn well his actions will prove to be useless. “It’s not even dark out; the sun is still shining. Plus, how did you miss the change in the wind? Or the smell? You always catch that!”

“It came out of nowhere,” Toph retorts. If she wasn’t blind, the look she sends his way could kill.

“Earthbend us a little shelter,” Sokka whines. He can feel the drinks sloshing around under his tunic. Deciding he no longer cares about their tea, Sokka pours it out on the ground and keeps walking.

Toph sends him another withering glare. “If I could, don’t you think I would? We’re on city property; If I earthbend I’ll mess up the grass and then I’ll have to pay a fine.”

“Can’t you just… police it away?” Even as Sokka says it, he cringes. “Shut up, I know how it-”

Regardless, Toph goes on a rant about how she’s supposed to exemplify justice, leaving Sokka wet and bothered. They move quickly through the rain, towards the direction of Toph’s apartment. Funnily enough, it’s still sunny outside. Sokka ventures a look upwards and sees a faint rainbow gracing the sky. It gives him a feeling of hope, as if the Spirits have blessed his new journey in the big city.

“Oh, cool!” he cries, “a rainbow!”

“Wow!” Toph’s voice is quiet, reverent. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?”

A beat.

“Fuck you, Toph.”

“You wish, Snoozles.”

The retort slips out of her mouth easily; crude and thoughtless. She keeps it moving, a testament to just how dirty her sense of humor is and how accustomed she is to the atmosphere at the precinct. Sokka, however, stops. The rain blurs his vision slightly, but he stares. He stares after her, and for the first time since the war ended (over twenty years ago, now), Sokka looks at Toph. Really looks.

The clothes she is wearing are glued to her skin, slick and unyielding. Her hair is heavy with rain, the bun lowering by the second as she moves, already well ahead of him, with a grace that most Earthbenders cannot claim. Sokka’s never paid it much mind before, but now, he can’t help but wonder how her hips would feel between his hands. He wonders if her hair is coarse, or silky. If her skin is soft and supple, or calloused and hard. Or maybe a mixture? She turns towards him, many feet away, and he can see, through squinted eyes (he curses the rain), her figure. She’s… well, she’s beautifully proportioned, to say the least.

Sokka gulps, fidgeting uncomfortably in his sticky pants. He suddenly feels awkward, as if he’s doing something illegal. Sokka toys with the empty to-go cups in his hand, watching as Toph gets further away from him.

“Sokka?” Toph calls. She sounds confused. “Don’t fucking play, you know the rain messes with my Sense. The food’s getting ruined, hurry up! I had way more of the city to show you, but it’ll have to wait til after.”

Her voice carries through the rain, loud and unyielding. It is what snaps him out of his daze and grounds him back in reality. This is… this is Toph. And he’s here thinking of her like she’s a… a potential partner.

Sokka grimaces. Yuck.

Still, as he runs after her, Sokka feels irrationally jealous of the rain. It’s closer than his hands will probably ever be.

Soaking wet, Sokka pushes the thought away, the flare of jealousy settling in his gut but for some reason, not completely disappearing.

He’s jealous of the rain.

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#tokka #atla #avatar the last airbender #toph #toph beifong #sokka #katara #Lin Beifong #suyin beifong #zuko #tokka week 2020 #tokka week #ITS DAY ONE BITCHES #here we GOOOOO #fanfiction

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worryinglyinnocent · 3 years

Text

Fic: Steamed Up

Summary: After a date night, Belle and Gold have an intimate encounter in the Cadillac, calling to mind the earliest days of their relationship.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling November smut prompt: steamy windows, half-dressed, temptation, rain.

Rated: E

Steamed Up

It’s been a wonderful evening, and Belle doesn’t want it to end. The rain is steadily coming down on the bonnet of the Cadillac, and through the rivers on the windshield, she can see one dim light on in the front room. She wonders if the children are in bed and asleep or if Tilly let them stay up until their parents returned. It’s the first time that both of them have not been there for bedtime, but after six years, they felt that it was time for a date night.

It’s been good to get out, just the two of them, heading off to all the places they used to haunt before they were married and had children, starting with dinner at Marco’s Italian and ending with shots and pool at the Rabbit Hole. Well, Gold didn’t partake of the shots, saying that losing his licence with a DUI would not be a good way to end their first post-babies date night, but Belle had made up for him, and still managed to beat him at pool for all that.

She glances across at him in the darkness. The windows are starting to steam up around them.

“We’d probably better go in,” Gold says, although there’s a distinct reluctance in his voice as he wipes a streak through the condensation on the window. “Tilly will start to think that we’re up to no good in here.”

Belle dances her fingers up the inside of his thigh and squeezes his crotch. “Who’s saying that we’re not up to no good?”

He gives her a look, but Belle can tell that he’s already given in to temptation. She gives him another gentle squeeze and he grunts, shifting in the driver’s seat with his head thrown back.

“Come on,” she wheedles. “The Cadi won’t be scandalised. It’s not the first time we’ve done it in here.”

Gold huffs with laughter. “It’s not the first time we’ve done it on the outside either.”

Belle gives an appreciative sigh at the memory of Gold bending her over the bonnet, the thrill of being outdoors only a little tempered by the isolation of the cabin by the lake.

Presently, Gold pushes his seat all the way back. “Come here, my little minx.”

Belle wastes no time in scrambling over into his lap, pressing her lips up against his in a fierce and hungry kiss. Maybe it’s the fact they’ve been reliving their earliest dates and it’s reawakened that first flush of passion in them, maybe it’s the fact they’ve got a babysitter on the clock, but there’s a sense of frantic urgency in their messy kisses and slipping, fumbling fingers as Belle wrestles with Gold’s tie and collar buttons and he yanks her dress and bra straps down to let her breasts bounce free. OK, so the dress is a bit tight now after carrying and breastfeeding two babies, but Gold certainly doesn’t mind at all. He cups her breasts, running his thumbs over her nipples. Belle groans as they pucker under his touch, carding her fingers into his hair.

It’s at times like this, gasping and pawing like newlyweds, when Belle can’t believe that they’ve been together for so long. Together for ten years, married for eight of those, parents for six of those… And they’ve been engaged in mutual pining for who knows how long before that, until Jefferson and Ruby had finally got them to get their act together and admit to themselves and each other that they had feelings.

Still, however long they’ve been together, Belle thinks the fact that they’re still this insatiable and this desperate for each other after all this time is testament to just how perfect a fit they are for each other. They’ve had sex so many times – becoming parents definitely did not have the impact on their intimate life that everyone warned that it would – but the thrill of it is never dampened. It’s never boring. Gold’s touch never fails to send an electric shock of pleasure through Belle’s veins, and she can see for herself the effect that she has on him now, his erection clearly visible against the front of his trousers.

He slips a hand between her legs, one long finger outlining her sex through the gusset of her underwear as his other hand continues to play with her nipple and he presses soft kisses to her neglected breast. Belle throws her head back, trying not to make too much noise. Not that she thinks Tilly will hear them from inside the house, but it pays to be cautious when there are potentially small, curious children about. Luckily, the windows are so misted now that although it will still be very obvious what they’re doing, it won’t be quite as visible.

Gold captures her lips again, and in the pause for breath, she regains a little control over herself, starting to work the buttons on his shirt and slipping her hands inside, dancing her fingertips over his chest and flicking at his nipples, grinning at the soft hiss of pleasure that he gives. His hips buck up against hers, his hard cock straining at his zipper, and Belle takes pity on him, unfastening his belt and fly and taking him out. Gold swears softly at the first stroke of her palm up his shaft, and then his own hands are back under the hem of her skirt, scrabbling for the waistband of her underwear. There’s a lot of ungainly fumbling then, that ends with Belle’s panties hanging off one ankle in their haste, but it really doesn’t matter. They’ll have plenty of time to take their time later, in the luxurious comfort of their own bed. For now, everything is quick and raw and needy, reminding Belle of the desperation of the very first time they slept together. No doubt they had both been planning for it to be a lot more romantic than it was, but with so much tension in the air, having gone unresolved for so long, desire got the better of both of them.

Gold slips two fingers between her folds, rubbing along them and smearing the juices already pooling at her entrance, circling her clit, and making Belle gasp and dig her fingers in. He found his way around her body so quickly and easily, and although they enjoy exploring every inch of each other, it’s an entirely different kind of intimacy to know someone and their body so well that it only takes a moment to build them up to the heady heights of pleasure.

She curls her fingers around Gold’s cock again, lining them up and sinking down onto him, his eyes fluttering closed as she welcomes him inside. It’s a rhythm they’ve long since fallen into over the years, and there’s no less intimacy in the act for its quickness. Gold’s fingers touch her clit in time with the rolling of their hips, and Belle’s orgasm is sweet and intense, her inner walls clutching at Gold’s cock and bringing him over the edge with her.

Gradually, Belle comes back down to herself, resting her forehead against her husband’s. It’s such a strangely chaste gesture after what they’ve just done, and she has to laugh a little at it. Gold joins in, and she feels the rumble in his chest more than she really hears it.

“We should really get inside,” he says eventually, and although Belle would be quite happy to stay sitting here in this sweaty and debauched mess, she knows he has a point.

“We should really make an effort to look decent before we get inside,” she points out. Although it’s going to be impossible to hide what they’ve been doing – the sheer amount of time they’ve spent sitting in the driveway without opening the car doors will have acted as a giant flashing warning sign to Tilly if nothing else has done – they might at least try to act innocent, and going into the house half-dressed will do nothing for that perception. So, it’s with reluctance that Belle scrambles back out of Gold’s lap, allowing him to set his trousers to rights and refasten his shirt. He doesn’t bother with the tie, and he raises an eyebrow as Belle opts to shove her panties in her coat pocket instead of putting them back on properly.

“You’re a demon sometimes, but I love you.”

“I’m very glad to hear it.” Now looking decent, if a little dishevelled, Belle doesn’t dare check her make-up in the rear-view. There’s lipstick on Gold’s collar; that tells her all she needs to know. Still, she can’t resist leaning in for another kiss before they dash through the rain towards the house, and it’s all Belle can do not to collapse into fits of giggles that might wake the children once they’re inside. The run through the downpour has certainly helped in terms of their post-coital state of disturbance, but as Tilly comes out from the living room and gives them a onceover, it’s not enough to have washed away the evidence entirely.

“You know, I think it might be best if I just left right now,” she says. “The kids are in bed. They were perfectly well behaved all evening.”

Gold nods and gets out his wallet, thanking Tilly for her time. The younger girl’s expression is undecided, as if she can’t work out whether to be amused or unnerved by her employers’ antics, but then she’s rushing through the storm to her own little car parked on the road, and Belle and Gold are left alone in the hallway.

“So…” Gold’s smile is utterly insatiable as he pushes Belle back against the front door and goes in for another kiss, hooking her panties out of her coat pocket. “Shall we continue where we left off, Mrs Gold?”

“I think that’s an excellent idea, Mr Gold.”

#rumbelle fic #A Monthly Rumbelling #rumbelle #Belle French #Mr Gold #Fic: Steamed Up

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