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soopsiesdaisies · 2 years

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nightcourt.gov

Chapter 2: inbox: 0 unread

Read on Ao3 + Masterlist

[16-01-501, 06:55AM]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: you miserable piece of shit

—

Rhysand,

I can’t believe you’d actually do this. Though, considering you’re such a scummy excuse for a male, I probably shouldn’t have expected anything else.

Give her back to me.

Tamlin

[16-01-501, 09:47AM]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: things n stuff

—

rhysie,

heeeyyyyyyyy i heard from morrigan u got ur girl?? stole her away from her wedding, huh? u nasty nasty. bet she absolutely hates u now. how did the shoe taste?

u should let me n az meet her yknow. maybe not amren idk if thats a good idea. but me n az is totally 100% a good idea so we’ll drop round when we have time ok?? yeah listen to me. little bitch.

anyway theres some shit in illyria we need ur help with if ur not too busy trying (and horribly failing) to woo her. uprisings n shit. still. u already knew about this but i figured its good to get a reminder bc if she is as pretty as u claim im expecting u to think with ur dick rn. be sure to have a good wank before u come over to help!! a stiffy in front of devlon would be embarrassing.

so yeah thats it xxxx cas

ps: do u think u could bring some pastries over we’re only eating grub :(( i need somethign sweet before i can be badass

Sent from my StarPhone

[16-01-501, 10:22AM]

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: the Hewn Wishlist of the Week

—

Rhys,

Can you sign off on these? Thanks in advance.

—

[15-01-501, 23:41PM]

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Meeting notes

—

Morrigan,

Below are my notes of our meeting. Please ensure our High Lord accepts my requests.

Lord and Lady Wriedt wish to marry their oldest daughter off to Mr Aurelius Balcom. Refuse—Miss Wriedt and Mr Balcom are first cousins. Lord and Lady Wriedt are also first cousins, as are Lord and Lady Balcom.

City budget needs to be expanded by +/- 10.000 gold coins a month: several Lords and Ladies complain about lack of lavish revels.

The wine cellars ought to be restocked. None from Spring: the quality has reduced significantly over the last century, taste is revolting.

The High Lord is encouraged to pay a visit without the company of lesser fae.

Younglings have been sneaking off to the outside with increasing frequency. Lords and Ladies request permission to discourage this properly.

Lord Abaddon wishes to renovate his mansion. Force him to show me the blueprints. If I do not agree, please do not allow him to renovate.

I am tired of seeing wild matings on the dance floor. It is boring. Ban it—perhaps build copulation rooms?

[Personal decision] City needs more shadow wraiths for cleaning. They will not be noticed.

Everybody in attendance has zero (0) intelligence.

If I shake Lord Mortimer I suspect his brain will rattle in his skull like a dried split pea. Tempted to test my theory.

Lady Mortimer wishes for more shades of black in the clothing shops. I am unsure whether there are more shades of black. If there are, lie and insist there are not.

Lady Mortimer might rattle as well.

Lord and Lady Dirge request a revel to welcome a delegation from Autumn. Some members of the delegation are Lady Dirge’s siblings. Maybe?

I need a drink.

Lord Tinuviel wishes for the High Lord to be re-elected. Gift him books on High Lord magic?

The wine from Spring is indeed revolting.

Lord Tinuviel refuses to budge despite protests. Believes Lord Mortimer “has no brain”. I do not agree. Lord Mortimer has at least a split pea; Lord Tinuviel has a singular grain of sand.

They are too drunk to continue. Meeting adjourned.

[16-01-501, 12:12]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: the girl

—

Rhysand..

I wish to meet the girl… hope you will allow me to visit soon, boy… Surely she should be able to handle me, if she is yours.

Amren

[16-01-501, 16:03]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: 🤨

—

Rhys,

There’s no need for you not to answer Cas’s email. I bet she still despises you—you CANNOT have managed to make her fall in love with you already so I’m sure you have lots of time.

(Unless you’re trying to woo her and are failing miserably. lmao that’s so embarrassing 💀💀💀💀 loser)

Cas and I are able to handle the uprisings on our own but it would be a lot easier with you. Cas is hangry and I’m REALLY cold 😒😒 discomfort is not manageable when you’re not around to ridicule.

Bring us some hot dinner when you come please 🥺

xoxo Az 👻

Sent from my StarPhone

[16-01-501, 16:05]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: 🤨

—

Azriel,

Fucking hypocrite.

Rhys x

PS: sure, I’ll take food with me. Cas wants the elderberry pastries, right?

Sent from my StarPhone

[17-01-501, 07:22AM]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: don’t ignore me

—

You’re such a twat. Miserable, sad, evil male with no

prospects.

Bring her back.

May the Cauldron tear you apart,

Tam

[17-01-501, 08:04AM]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: help

—

Rhys,

Tamlin is being insufferable. Is there a way for you to bring Feyre back early? Please. We’ve had to replace four chairs and a table so far.

Cauldron bless you,

Lucien

[17-01-501, 09:35AM]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Heyyyyyyyyyyy

—

Dearest Rhys,

I’ve heard from a little birdie you stole Tamlin’s beautiful Cursebreaker bride? Oh, aren’t you evil ✨✨

(I don’t blame you, though. She’s gorgeous.)

Anyway, you up for a bootycall sometime? I’d love to reinstate some more bonds between our Courts. I’ll bring the booze, you’ll only need to bring your sexy bum (and maybe the Shadowsinger? 👀👀)

Lemme know whether you’d like to meet up with me and when. I’ll send you my schedule later.

May the Cauldron give you fantastic orgasms,

xxxx Helion 🍆💦

[17-01-501, 12:55PM]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: HELLO

—

RHYSAND

HEARD YOU FINALLY ARRIVED IN ILLYRIA GOOD HOPE THOSE 50 YEARS OF SITTING ON YOUR ARSE DIDN’T DO TOO MUCH DAMAGE TO YOUR ALREADY TERRIBLE FIGHTING

CAN YOU BRING ME A PASTRY WHEN YOU VISIT CHOCOLATE PLEASE

BLESSED BE

DEVLON

[19-01-501, 07:33AM]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: don’t ignore me fuckface

—

I KNOW you read these because I know you and you HATE receiving inbox pings. LISTEN TO ME AND GIVE HER BACK.

Cauldron kill you,

Tamlin

[19-01-501, 09:47AM]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: how’s it going

—

Rhys,

Not making much progress, are you? She still hates you and all that. How sad.

Maybe tell her about the mating bond? Oh, wait. You’re stupid and love to torture yourself.

xx Mor

[19-01-501, 16:39PM]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: PLEASE

—

Rhysand,

By the Mother, if there is ANY way to bring her back earlier I will kiss your feet without hesitation. I haven’t slept more than an hour these last few days. I do not think I can last the rest of the week.

We were too hasty in replacing the chairs and table and I am currently standing in a battlefield. He has made four servants cry today and more will be added, I am sure. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, because you aren’t approachable, but at the moment you’re the only one I can vent to. Also, you might not answer. Allow me to use you as a diary.

Ianthe is also unbelievably annoying and I do not trust her. She keeps trying to bed me. I do not want to.

Anyway, I think Tamlin is going in a rage again, so I shall hide in the trees now.

Should you be able to, please bring Feyre back early.

Cauldron bless you,

Lucien

[19-01-501, 23:59PM]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Requests

—

Your Grace,

Have you had a chance to go over and approve my requests? There is no reason for this to take so long—you are aware you are our High Lord, yes? Or have you perhaps forgotten during the 50 years you warmed that red-haired mongrel’s bed?

If Morrigan has not sent them to you, please notify me asap and I will send you the requests immediately.

I look forward to hearing from you soon.

May the Cauldron bless you,

Keir

[20-01-501, 2:35AM]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

CC: [email protected]; [email protected]

Subject: Recap

—

Rhys,

Out of two rogue war-bands, 76 Illyrians are dead after resisting defeat with violence. 2 members, one of each group, are alive and in my custody. The children and women have been sent to camps around Illyria. No families are separated.

I will update you on any new information the 2 members will tell me. They will fold.

Cauldron bless you,

Azriel 👻

PS: Lord Devlon, we’ll have a basket of chocolate pastries sent to you as thanks for your help. I promise Cassian won’t empty it before arrival.

[20-01-501, 07:42AM]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: bring her back

—

Rhysand,

If you hurt her I will hunt you down. She’ll never leave me for you. She is good and sweet and gentle and if she ever ends up with you you will DESTROY HER. Leave her alone.

I am going to break this bargain if it’s the last thing I do, consequences be damned. I will kill you, mark my words.

Tamlin

[21-01-501, 01:36AM]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: bring her back

—

Dear Tam,

No ♥️

xxxx Rhys

Sent from my StarPhone

***

“xoxogossipaz” is the result of the joint genius of @demarogue and me. Please follow her, she’s an amazingly talented writer and artist!

#acotar fic #nightcourt dot gov #chatfic

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ranpd · 8 months

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PROMPT: A girl goes missing. Fifteen years later they get a call from the daughter who is now 15 years older. They listen in fear because they killed their daughter the night she “disappeared.”

[ CALL BEGINS AUGUST 14, 2008, 9:43pm ]

OPERATOR: 911, what’s your emergency?

WOMAN'S VOICE: Oh my god, my daughter, she–she’s missing. I saw her this afternoon, and she–she said she was going to her friend's house but she isn’t there! She’s gone!

OPERATOR: Okay, ma’am, I’d like you to remain calm. Do you know if she ever made it to her friend’s house?

WOMAN'S VOICE: I know she did. Her friend’s mother called me and I spoke to my daughter from her phone. I know she was alive! She left her friend's house an hour ago! And she hasn’t come home! (Sobbing)

OPERATOR: Okay, what does your daughter look like? How old is she? What’s her name?

WOMAN'S VOICE: Her name is Willow Larementh. She’s only 8. Small, brown hair almost to her waist, blue eyes, light skin. Oh, she’s so sweet. How could this happen to her?

OPERATOR: Alright, ma’am, we’ll send out a search party for her. What’s your name?

WOMAN'S VOICE: Melissa. Melissa Larementh.

OPERATOR: Okay, Ms. Larementh. We’ll let you know as soon as we find anything out.

MELISSA: Okay. Thank you so much. Please find my sweet baby. Please.

[ CALL END ]

—

[ 1 NEW MESSAGE: MELISSA LAREMENTH (9:57 pm) ]

ML: Call made.

ML: How’s your side going?

AL: Almost done

AL: They’re not going to find this

AL: We’re clear

ML: Great.

ML: Don’t forget to delete these messages once you’re done.

AL: 👍

—

[ INCOMING CALL: 911 (10:24pm) ]

MELISSA: Hello?

OPERATOR: Melissa Larementh?

MELISSA: That would be me. Who is this?

OPERATOR: This is the police. We’re part of the search squad sent out for your daughter.

MELISSA: Oh, thank god! How is she? Is she okay? My baby–

OPERATOR: Ms. Larementh.

MELISSA: ?

OPERATOR: We didn’t find your daughter. We didn’t find any sign of her, either.

MELISSA: (shrieking)

[ CALL END ]

—

[ 1 NEW MESSAGE: MELISSA LAREMENTH (10:26pm) ]

ML: I think they’ve got sufficient evidence of my grief.

AL: Ok

ML: Where are you?

AL: Mcdonalds

ML: Are you serious.

ML: Get back home right now.

ML: What are you thinking?

AL: I’m hungry

ML: THERE’S FOOD HERE.

ML: Come home now.

AL: But I’ve already got my burger

ML: Fine. Whatever. Get home ASAP.

AL: Ok

—

[ INCOMING CALL: MELISSA LAREMENTH (10:41pm) ]

MAN’S VOICE: Hello?

MELISSA: Arthur, are you sure you got rid of all the evidence?

ARTHUR: Yes, I’m certain. Everything is nicely washed and I’m going to shower once I get home just to make sure.

MELISSA: Okay. I just needed to know. I keep thinking we’ll get caught or someone will find her.

ARTHUR: No one’s gonna know. We’ve got it. We’re finally free.

MELISSA: Okay. Get home soon.

ARTHUR: On the road now. I’ll be there in a few minutes.

MELISSA: Okay. Love you.

ARTHUR: Love you.

[ CALL END ]

—

[ CALLING… MELISSA LAREMENTH ]

[ MELISSA LAREMENTH DID NOT PICK UP. LEAVE A VOICEMAIL? ]

[ PRESS 1 FOR ‘YES’ ]

[ PRESS 2 FOR ‘NO’ ]

( .... )

( ...1 )

[ VOICEMAIL RECORDING BEGINS ON THE BEEP… ]

[ … ]

[ BEEEEP ]

( ….hello? )

( …Mama? )

( Mama, don’t leave me here… )

( Mama…come back…please… )

( I’m scared, mama… )

( Where’s daddy taking me? )

( I don’t want to go to the forest. )

( Mama, don’t let him take me! )

( Please don’t let him leave me here! )

( Mamaaa…mama, please… )

( Don’t leave me behind… )

[ BEEEEP ]

[ VOICEMAIL DELETED ]

—

[ SEPTEMBER 2, 2008 ]

[ INCOMING CALL: MELISSA LAREMENTH (8:36am) ]

ARTHUR: Hello?

MELISSA: Arthur, a couple days ago, did you…did you get a weird call or anything like that?

ARTHUR: What? No, why?

MELISSA: It’s nothing. Just…got a weird voicemail. I deleted it. I’m sure it wasn’t really anything.

ARTHUR: Alright. Well, I’ve got to get to work.

MELISSA: Bye.

[ CALL END ]

—

( Don’t leave me here all alone… )

( Please… )

—

[ JULY 14, 2023 ]

[ CALLING… MELISSA LAREMENTH ]

[ MELISSA LAREMENTH DID NOT PICK UP. LEAVE A VOICEMAIL? ]

[ PRESS 1 FOR ‘YES’ ]

[ PRESS 2 FOR ‘NO’ ]

( … )

( …1 )

[ VOICEMAIL RECORDING BEGINS ON THE BEEP… ]

[ … ]

[ BEEEEP ]

( Mama? )

( Did you forget me? )

( It’s been fifteen years since daddy buried me, mama, along with the truth. )

( Why did you kill me, mama? )

( I was only a kid. )

( I didn’t do anything wrong. )

( I did my best. )

( Why did you leave me alone, mama? )

( Was I not good enough? )

( … )

( WAILING )

[ BEEEEP ]

[ VOICEMAIL DELETED ]

—

[ INCOMING CALL: MELISSA LAREMENTH (2:12pm) ]

ARTHUR: Hello? You know I’m at work.

MELISSA: I got–I got another weird call. It sounded like…like her.

ARTHUR, laughing: That’s absurd! She’s dead. I’m certain of it. She couldn’t have called you. Why’d you pick it up, anyway?

MELISSA: I didn’t pick it up. It left a voicemail.

ARTHUR: That’s weird. Look, I’m sure it’s nothing. It doesn’t matter. It’s just a call. It’s not going to hurt you. Don’t pick any of them up until I come home, okay?

MELISSA: Okay. I’ll see you later.

ARTHUR: Okay. Bye.

[ CALL END ]

—

[ MISSED CALL: Unknown Number ]

[ INCOMING CALL: Unknown Number ]

MELISSA: We have to pick up this time.

ARTHUR: I know.

[ CALL BEGINS (5:36pm) ]

( … )

( …hello? Mama? Did you pick up this time? )

MELISSA: Who is this? You’ve been harassing me for years.

( … )

( I’ve been harassing you? )

( You killed me, mama. My body is in the woods. Papa left me there. )

[ MELISSA and ARTHUR exchange a horrified glance. ]

ARTHUR: This isn’t funny, prank caller. We’ll call the police.

( … )

( laughter )

( You’ll call the police? You called the police fifteen years ago too, didn’t you, mama? You cried and you lied to them; told them your daughter was gone. But you knew where I was, didn’t you? )

MELISSA: …

( You knew I was in the back of daddy’s truck, my body cooling as my blood seeped into the fabric of the backseat. I bet if you pulled up the cover, it’s still there. You can’t wash my blood off your hands, daddy. It’s in your truck. It’s in your heart. )

ARTHUR: Hang up.

MELISSA: …

ARTHUR: Melissa, hang up the phone.

MELISSA: It’s her. It’s her ghost.

ARTHUR: That’s insane!

( Mama! You finally got it! After fifteen years of me calling! You never pick up…never, never, neveeerrr… )

( I lived. I lived in the blood that sunk into the seat cushion. I lived in the blood you dripped down the path. I lived in the dirt you piled above my body. I lived in the tree you planted over me. )

( Why? Why did you kill me? What did I do to you? )

( WAILING )

MELISSA & ARTHUR: ( screaming )

—

[ CALL BEGINS 7:49pm ]

POLICEMAN: So they were just…found dead?

INVESTIGATOR: The only clue we have is Melissa’s phone. Its screen is fried and just showing static. The speakers keep producing this wailing noise. It sounds like a child, almost.

POLICEMAN: …could it’ve been a ghost murder?

INVESTIGATOR: It’s highly possible, considering there’s also a note here on the ground.

POLICEMAN: What’s it say?

INVESTIGATOR: It’s a set of coordinates. We’ve put it into a GPS, and it’s the forest near here. We’re going to check it out.

POLICEMAN: Okay. Call me back when you get there.

[ CALL END ]

—

[ CALL BEGINS 6:32pm ]

INVESTIGATOR: Hello?

POLICEMAN: It’s a tree.

INVESTIGATOR: What?

POLICEMAN: It’s just a tree. The coordinates lead to a tree.

INVESTIGATOR: Is there anything underneath the tree?

POLICEMAN: It doesn’t look like it from the surface, but we can dig up underneath it.

INVESTIGATOR: Get on that.

[ CALL END ]

—

[ CALL BEGINS 6:58 ]

POLICEMAN: The body underneath the tree looks like it belongs to a little girl.

INVESTIGATOR: What? Is it W–

POLICEMAN: Wait.

INVESTIGATOR: ?

POLICEMAN: The phone stopped making noise. The static turned off.

INVESTIGATOR: So it was definitely a ghost murder. The body underneath that tree is likely the Laramenths daughter.

POLICEMAN: Oh, that would explain the tree.

INVESTIGATOR: Is there something about the tree?

POLICEMAN: It’s a willow.

[ CALL END ]

#ghostwriting #horror #halloween #horror story #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #THE PAIN I FELT WRITING ALL THIS IN CALL TRANSCRIPTIONS

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sapphyreopal5 · 2 months

Text

Yet another witchy post from Gen to honor the total solar happening today April 8, 2024. According to the Austintexas.org website, the eclipse will be visible from 1:32pm to 1:41pm CST in Austin with totality happening at 1:36pm CST, which is local time for Texas. As I am typing this up, it is 1:06pm EST which means it is 12:06pm CST. Meanwhile, here I am having had this posted at 1:34pm EST, 58 min before the eclipse is visible in Austin and an hour and 2 min before totality happens in Austin. Hmmm... Here she is talking about "new moon eclipse intention setting". According to this post, she has on here "speak my truth, give myself permission, follow my job, take up space, gratitude". As for what on earth is in that jar, I can't say but can guess there's either some kind of oils, flower petals, or heck maybe just a big giant candle inside of it. Looks like there are several other empty jars in front of her for God knows what reason. I also see she started writing in a journal during this video, which is part of an intention setting aspect of a ritual.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Genevieve Padalecki (@genpadalecki)

instagram

Now, as for what on Earth intention setting is for, according to this site The Aerial BVP here, it states: "Intention setting is the process of creating a clear and focused mental or emotional intention for a specific goal or outcome. It involves consciously directing your thoughts and energy toward a desired outcome or experience, with the aim of increasing the likelihood of achieving it. But while intention setting might seem strictly cerebral or spiritual, there’s a practical element to it as well. And that element makes all the difference." Given Gen talks about using crystals during colon cleanses, her taste in books becoming increasingly witchy, etc., I am going to have to go with her intents being more spiritual but also with a practical twist. She does like her cushy lifestyle. Below, I derived from this website here The Moon School an intention setting ritual specifically for eclipses I found.

1. Center yourself through breath Find a quiet space where you can sit comfortably. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths, inhaling for a count of four and exhaling for a count of four. Allow your breath to anchor you in the present moment, letting go of any external distractions. 2. Cultivate inner stillness Shift your focus to the rhythm of your breath, allowing it to guide you into a state of inner stillness. Spend at least six minutes simply observing your breath, allowing thoughts to come and go without judgment or attachment. 3. Connect with your higher self From this place of calm and centeredness, invite a dialogue with your higher self. Here are some questions you could ask: What is the energy I most need to cultivate? What is the attitude that will most serve my highest path? How can I serve the collective? What will bring me joy? What approach can I take, to reach fulfilment? Listen to the whispers of your soul, trusting that the answers will reveal themselves in due time. 4. Journal your insights When you feel ready, open your eyes and take out your journal. Write down any insights or guidance that arose during your meditation, even if they seem unclear or fragmented. Pay attention to any recurring themes or emotions that surface. 5. Clarify your intentions As you reflect on your journal entries, begin to crystallize your intentions for the future. Envision your life as if your desires have already been realized, describing in vivid detail how it looks, feels, and unfolds. This exercise helps to anchor your intentions in your consciousness, guiding your actions and attracting opportunities aligned with your vision. 6. Offer your intentions out to the universe Bring your hands together in prayer position, leaving a small space between your palms. Visualize this space as a vessel for your dreams and aspirations. With a slow exhalation, imagine releasing your intentions into the vast expanse of the universe, trusting that they will be received and supported. 7. Embrace the energy of the eclipse Take a moment to bask in the powerful energy of the solar eclipse. Feel the cosmic currents surging around you, infusing you with renewed clarity, purpose, and vitality. Allow yourself to be fully present in this moment of transformation. As you practice this ritual, remember that you are co-creating with the universe, aligning your intentions with the divine flow of life. Your intentions are for the greater good of us all! Trust in the process, stay open to the signs and synchronicities that emerge along your path, and embrace the infinite possibilities that await you.

#Instagram #anti genevieve #witchcraft #intention setting #solar eclipse 2024 #black magic

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eggplant-dolma · 5 months

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Woof, i sure am struggling today. The semester starts in 6 days and i still have so much to figure out??

Im going to make a little(long) to-do list here for the next couple days and see if i manage to get anything accomplished lol (was going to make a today to-do list but it's already 2:41pm and ive had this almost-migraine since i woke up)

School & such

🪷 Research and make decision on subject for capstone class 🪷 " " for SDIS class 🪷 Fill out course proposal form for SDIS class, send to prof. 🪷 Email department the proposal must go thru to ask Q's 🪷 Look for another part-time job

Housekeeping

🪼 Wash bedding 🪼 Fold laundry 🪼 Tidy room 🪼 Do dishes

The school things are certainly the most important right now.. I kind of can't make the SDIS decision until I've made the capstone decision, but I have been *really* struggling to wrap my head around approaching that question/subject, esp with how broad of a topic we're meant to begin with?

I want my independent study topic to be an extension of the capstone, but damn dog. It's also frustrating because technically I have until March to turn in the sdis proposal, but I need to take at least 7 credits to get student loans and I know I can't take anything extra and be able to handle the semester, so I'm on a time crunch for getting this course decided and approved which is causing me The Stress :') it's fine it's fine I'll figure it out I'm sure..

Okay, okay, I think I'm going to go make myself a late lunch and then go from there.. any kind of cleaning sounds horrendous today so I may just avoid that whole list and just try to get some good research done this evening to hopefully get closer to a class/subject decision 🤔😮‍💨🫠💀

I just hate feeling so ... unsure

#my capstone is also a theoretical course isntead of the empirical one bcuz id have to wait until fall if i wanted to do the empirical #ive talked to my prof abt it a couple times now and i always leave the meeting feeling like i finally understand more/better but then #BUT!!!! Its more my strength and i am STRUGG with what the expectations for the conceptual one is/is going to be???#i actually sit down to think abt it and make a decision and immediately realize i still just Dont Get It?????#like just tell me what i need 😭😭😭#eggplant has to do #studyblr #cest moi

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paleangels13 · 2 years

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Tag 10 people you want to know better

Thanks for the tag @rbf451 🥰

Relationship status: single

Fav colour: black, dark red

Fav food: oh god...idk... Maybe pasta bake/pasta casserole made by my mom 🥰

Song stuck in my head recently: * mumbles * I constantly have songs stuck in my head and they change way too often soo...

-> Songs I've been listening to an unhealthy amount of times in the past few days: Pray to the hunter - Saltatio Mortis; Bloody Valentine - MGK; Tanz mit mir - Harpyie feat. Mr Hurley; Kesärenkaat - Robin; (last song I can remember having stuck in my head: maybe - MGK feat. Bring me the horizon)

Last thing I googled: Offenburg (a City in the south of Germany)

Time: 14:41 -> 2:41pm

Dream trip: basically all Scandinavian countries and I'd love to go to Ireland one day 🥰

Tagging: @drippinlou @mondscheinprinzessin @itsfandomsgalore @kraeuterhexchen @born-to-lose @bctrashtime @lonelyvomit @sunflowerpumpkinpie @askeataiho @vanilla-hate (sorry 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 I feel super weird tagging people I've barely/never talked to, hope you don't mind ;-; no pressure at you guys and I don't even know if maybe someone of you has already done this 😅🥺 okay will go back to hiding in my cave now ahh)

#Fine talks #tag games

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kireimarkeu · 3 years

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retrouvailles; l.mk

THIS IS A REPOST!!!!

Summary: counting down the days until you finally see your long-distance boyfriend.

Mark is a jerk at one point. Also noticed how I put skype when they were calling through the phone and ft through laptop LOL

word count: 5.7k

Also lets pretend we can use spotify in korea ok

--Day 98

(10:33PM) Cutie: you idiot

(10:33PM) Cutie: answer my call!! You loserrrr

(10:34PM) You: omg give me a second

(10:35PM) You: ffs jshkdmj

(10:35PM) Cutie: omg what are you doing

(10:35PM) Cutie: why are you taking so long

(10:37PM) You: GIVE ME A SECOND

(10:37PM) You: im taking food

You plop onto your bed, placing the plate of grapes on the mattress, resulting in some to topple out of the bowl. You quickly pop one in your mouth before turning on your laptop.

Before you could even call Mark, he was already requesting a facetime with you. You immediately answered.

“Finally,” your boyfriend huffs when the call was finally connected.

You hum, your hands searching for more grapes that has dropped on your bed sheets, popping them in your mouth.

“What are you eating?” he asks.

“Grapes,” your voice came out muffled from chewing, but Mark understands.

“That’s what took you so long?” he frowns, “I can cut a watermelon in 5 seconds,”

“I didn’t ask,” you bite back.

Your boyfriend automatically raises his hand to flash his middle finger while you did the same back at him.

“What time is it there?” you ask him with raised eyebrows.

You were studying in Korea but because of the virus, you had to go back to Canada. You didn’t know how long you would be staying, but Mark had promised you that he would make it work.

“Um,” he looks at the clock that was a hanging next to him, “it’s 2:30PM here,” he answers, looking back at you, “It’s about 11 there, right?”

You nod.

“Don’t you have class tomorrow?” Mark asks.

Lucky for you, your classes has changed to the local timing in Canada. Meaning, you don’t need to stay up at ungodly hours for your classes.

“I think I can wake up tomorrow,”

“Do you want me to call you?”

“Please,” you pout.

Mark scowls jokingly at you, “the things I do for my girlfriend,”

You giggle innocently at your boyfriend, “I love you,” you make a heart with your hands, grinning at your laptop.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes.

--Day 90

“Babe, look up,” you call.

Mark looks up to see you holding your phone up, obviously filming him through the screen.

“What?”

He could hear you grinning from behind your phone.

“Smile,” you instruct.

He grins awkwardly while you let out a snort from behind the screen. You put your phone down, typing something before looking back up at your boyfriend.

“What did you do?”

You look up at him, biting back a smile— to which you failed, “go check Instagram,”

Mark immediately opens Instagram to see that you had posted something on your private Instagram. Only him and the members are following your private account since your relationship is still private.

He clicks on the bubble to see a video of him that you had recorded. When he smiles, his face morphed into a horse from of the filter you were using. Mark couldn’t help but chuckle at the funny effect.

“Okay, that’s kinda funny,” he admits.

He looks back up at you to see you holding your phone in front of your face again, probably trying another filter on him again.

“Is this another ugly filter, again?” whines your boyfriend.

You laugh, your phone not covering your face anymore, “it’s not!”

“Don’t lie,”

Your giggles got louder, “it’s not! I swear!”

“Fine,” he huffs. He straightens his back and stares at the camera, waiting for you to finish recording.

You put your phone down re-watching the video, chuckles leaving your lips.

“What filter did you use?”

“It’s on my insta, baby,”

He looks down on his phone again to see that you have posted another story. He immediately clicks on it to see it was an NCT filter.

‘Who is your NCT Bias?’ Was written on top of his head.

Mark waits for the filter to show the result. He grimaced when he got Jeno. He swipes up to reply to your story to send you a message.

markleeee99 replied to your story: ewww

--Day 87

(1:18PM) mwark: hello baby

(1:20PM) you: wht im having class rn

(1:20PM) mwark: so

(1:25PM) you: i have class??? go away loser

(1:25PM) mwark: :( I just wanna talk to my girlfriend tho :/

(1:27PM) you: later

(1:27PM) mwark: nooo

(1:33PM) you: omg youre an idol why are you so free

(1:34PM) you: go dance or rap or smth

(1:34PM) mwark: babyyyy

(1:35PM) you: im putting my phone on dnd

(1:35PM) mwark: nooo

(1:35PM) mwark: babe

(1:40PM) mwark: did you actually leave me D:

(1:40PM) mwark: ok whatev

(1:40PM) mwark: I was about to send you something but I guess I won’t now

(1:40PM) mwark: are you still ignoring me????

(1:41PM) mwark: omg babe I was jst joking I’ll send you some gifts

(1:41PM) mwark: booo u suck :(

--Day 81

This time, it was slightly different. Instead of your usual late-night calls through the computer, you had immediately skype him through your phone when you had received a package from Korea.

“You got me something?” you ask loudly when your boyfriend answered your call.

“Jeez, hello to you too, babe,” he rolls his eyes, “and yea, did it arrive?”

“What did you get me? And what type of shipping did you choose? It arrived so quickly,”

The box was pretty heavy, so you had to put your phone down to place the huge box on the counter before bringing your phone back into view.

“Express, I paid like extra,” Mark answers, eyeing you through the screen.

You click your tongue, opening the drawer to take out a knife, “stop wasting your money, you dumbass,”

Mark didn’t reply, instead he waits for you to open the package.

You let out a sigh, “what did you get me this time?”

You open the cardboard box, a navy-blue hoodie covering the top of it. You pull it out, looking at Mark who has a smile plastered on his face.

“Is this your hoodie?!” you squeal, putting it on yourself.

Your heart melt when the familiar scent fills your nostrils. It smells just like Mark.

“Canada is getting cold isn’t it? Keep yourself warm, baby,”

You lean over to take everything out from the box. Mark had given you his half-used cologne that he uses on a daily.

“I bought a new one just so I could give you mine,” he tells you, a playful smirk on his lips.

He had also packed some of your favourite Korean snacks, and some that you haven’t tried before. Along with some matching phone cases for the both of you.

“Now I feel bad I didn’t get anything for you,” you frown., pulling the hoodie over your head.

“Don’t be,” he reassures you, “being able to see you is already enough,”

You scrunch your nose in disgust, “cringey, Mark-ie,”

“Fuck you,” he chuckles, flashing his middle finger at you.

Your eyes widen when he cursed, “my mom’s home, you idiot!”

You laugh loudly when Mark’s eyes widen in surprise, both his hands covering his mouth.

“Y/N?” you hear your mom call from the living room, “who are you talking to?”

Before you could even reply, your mother was walking towards you.

“It’s Mark,” you answer as your mother got into frame to see Mark.

“Mark! It has been a while, how’s Korea?”

Your boyfriend greeted your mom politely, a grin plastered on his face. Your mom was about to reach for your phone to talk to Mark, but you frown and pull away.

“Noo, I wanna talk to Mark,”

You gathered the gifts Mark had given you in your arms before skipping up the stairs to your room, to spend the whole day (night for him) with him.

--Day 80

“Yo, Mark, there’s some food left outside, do you want it?” you heard Johnny ask from through the screen.

Mark turns to look at the intruder, “knock next time, dude,” groans Mark.

“Is that y/n?”

Johnny suddenly enters the frame with a gummy grin, waving enthusiastically at you.

“Hi Johnny, how are you?” you smile, waving back at the older boy.

Just when Johnny was about to get comfortable on Mark’s bed, your boyfriend let out string of whines, moving his phone until you could only see his cheeks.

“Ah, that’s enough,” your boyfriend says in annoyance, “y/n is tired, goodnight, baby.”

You couldn’t even reply because Mark had already ended the skype call.

You pout, opening your messenger to send a text to your boyfriend.

(7:35PM) You: heyyy why’d you end the call? ):

(7:36PM) Bubba: sorry

(7:36PM) Bubba: johnny was being annoying

(7:36PM) You: he wasn’t tho ):

(7:36PM) You: can we call again?

(7:38PM) Bubba: sorry angel

(7:38PM) Bubba: johnny wants me to go make music

(7:38PM) Bubba: later tonight?

(7:38PM) You: oky

(7:42PM) You: love u!

(7:42PM) Bubba: love u too

(7:42PM) Bubba: <3

--Day 76

You were in the middle of facetiming mark when your phone vibrates from a text. You raise your eyebrows, thinking it was Mark.

(12:11AM) Johnny: hey

(12:11AM) Johnny: I need to ask you something

(12:13AM) You: yeah?

(12:13AM) Johnny: is mark okay lately?

(12:13AM) You: he seems fine to me, why? Did something happen?

(12:14AM) Johnny: I don’t know if I should tell you about this

(12:14AM) Johnny: but

(12:14AM) Johnny: youre the only one who can probably help him

(12:14AM) You: help him with what?

You look up at your laptop to see that Mark’s eyes was still glued on his phone. Probably playing some games.

(12:17AM) Johnny: he hasn’t been eating lately

(12:19AM) Johnny: he doesn’t really tell us stuff anymore so I was wondering you would’ve known something?

(12:22AM) You: oh

(12:22AM) You: he hasn’t told me anything

(12:23AM) You: I’ll talk to him about it

(12:25AM) You: thanks johnny :)

“Hey,” you jump at your boyfriend’s voice. You snap your head to look at your boyfriend who was already staring at you with curious eyes. “What are you so busy with?”

You clear your throat, shaking your head, tossing your phone to the side.

“I wanna ask you something,” you say.

“Whats up?”

You scratch your head, unsure of how to put it into words without offending your boyfriend. You knew he hated being babied but you still want to care for him. He was your other half, after all.

“Have you been eating well lately?”

You could sense Mark was stunned by the random question. He looks away from your wary eyes.

“Who told you?”

“Mark—”

“It was Johnny wasn’t it?” he cuts you off in anger. “God damn it, this is why I don’t want you talking to my friends,”

Why was he making this such a big deal?

“Mark I was just asking a simple question, why are you acting this way?” you argued back.

He shakes his head, threading his fingers through his black hair stressfully.

“I need to go Y/N,” sighs your boyfriend, “Goodnight,”

“Mark—” you were too late. Mark had already ended the call.

A heavy sigh left your lips as you lied down on your bed.

You weren’t sure if you should text him or give him space. Should you apologize? Was it your fault for bringing it up?

After thinking for a while, you decided to send him a text.

(8:33PM) You: hi baby. I was just asking because I was worried about you. I know you hate it when I baby you, but I’m just looking out for you. I didn’t mean to bother you

(8:33PM) You: please don’t blame your friends for this.

(8:36PM) You: I’m sorry, okay?

(8:40PM) You: I just want you to eat healthily. I’m not there to take care of you and I just want you to be healthy.

(8:47PM) You: just text me whenever so we can talk this out

(8:57PM) You: goodnight, mark

--Day 75

(12:03PM) Lovey: hey

(12:03PM) Lovey: I was thinking and realised how selfish I acted towards you

(12:05PM) Lovey: I know you were just looking out for me and I was just wasn’t in the mood because of how stressful it has been

(12:05PM) Lovey: please don’t apologize. Its my fault

(12:15PM) You: why haven’t you been eating?

(12:15PM) Lovey: comeback

(12:15PM) Lovey: I’m trying to lose some cheeks for this comeback

(12:30PM) Lovey: sorry for worrying you

(12:31PM) You: whaa…

(12:33PM) You: but you know my favourite part of your face is your cheeks D:

(12:33PM) Lovey: :(

(12:33PM) You: will you start eating again?

(12:35PM) You: im not going to force you, mark. It’s really up to you.

(12:35PM) Lovey: im eating right now

(12:35PM) You: what are you eating

(12:38PM) Lovey: cereal

(12:38PM) Lovey: and um some left over sushi from yesterday

(12:38PM) You: ohhh sounds delicious

(12:40PM) You: okay I wont disturb you anymore, have fun eating bby

As you were about to put your phone away but there was an incoming videocall from your boyfriend. A small chuckle left your lips as you answered the call.

--Day 73

“Yo, did you see it?!” was the first thing Mark had asked you when you answered his call.

You raise your eyebrows in confusion, sitting up from your laying position, “see what?”

“We just posted a new dance practice; did you not see it?” his eyes widen dismay.

You shook your head, grabbing your laptop from the table, placing it on your lap, “nope, my phone was on dnd,”

“How did you answer my call, then?”

“You’re in my favourites dumbass,”

You type in your password before searching YouTube and clicking on the video that your boyfriend was talking about.

While watching the video, you placed your phone resting on the laptop so Mark could see your face. Throughout the whole video, you were singing softly to the song.

“Did you see that?! Did you see it?” Mark suddenly yells through the screen during the dance break part.

You jump a little, “what? What? What did I miss?”

He groans at you, “the bracelet! Johnny dropped it!”

“Huh?” you press the arrow to repeat it again and you noticed how Johnny’s bracelet fell while he was dancing.

“Wait a little more, I picked it up! Like a professional!”

You waited a little longer and your boyfriend was right. While he was getting into position, your boyfriend had swept the bracelet in his hands.

You grin, “proud of you, babe,”

You wanted to continue watching but your laptop started lagging from the terrible wi-fi. You groan in annoyance, pressing pause, hoping it would reload but it only hangs even more.

“God damnit, this fucking wi-fi,”

“Should I buy you a router? Or a new laptop?” he jokes.

--Day 71

(9:02PM) You: hey wanna call?

(9:02PM) You: today was so stressful I just wanna talk to you

(10:12PM) You: ahh you must be busy with comeback

(9:32PM) You: sorry babe! We’ll jst call tmr? :)

(9:33PM) You: love u! make sureee u drink lots of water <3

-Day 67

Mark lets out an aspirated sigh as he answers your facetime call. “What, Y/N?”

You frown at the way he greets you. He was moody probably because he just finished practicing.

You could tell from how he was laying on his bed without a shirt on, or how he would repeatedly thread his fingers through his black locks.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” you mumble out softly, your eyes softening, feeling guilty that you were disturbing him.

You bit your lip anxiously when Mark simply sighs, rolling his eyes slightly, “should we just call another time?”

He sighs once more, moving around until he lays on his side, “no, no, what’s up?”

You felt a little hesitant, unsure if he was being sarcastic or not. Mark wasn’t the type to approach something if he doesn’t like it, he would just go with the flow.

You shook your head, laying back down onto your bed, “No, you’re tired and I shouldn’t be disturbing you right now.”

Mark opens his mouth but you cut him off, “Sorry, Mark. Goodnight.”

You quickly end the call with a heavy heart, throwing your phone next to you. You knew you shouldn’t be expecting an incoming call from your boyfriend, but you shamelessly waited for his specific ringtone.

It did break your heart a little when you didn’t get any response from your boyfriend.

That night, you had spent your time watching Netflix with tears rolling down your cheeks.

-Day 62

“Y/N?”

A choked sob left your throat, your hands wiping the tears running down your cheeks.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Johnny’s voice filled your ears.

You gulp as your heart clench painfully when you hear Mark’s laughter in the background.

“Y/N, d-do you want me to pass the phone to Mark?”

“N-no,” you quickly say out, pausing a little. Hiccups leaving your lips, “d-don’t… please,”

“Okay?” Johnny replies in uncertainty, “Are you… okay? Should I beat Mark up?” he jokes.

You couldn’t bring yourself to smile. “How is he doing?” you whisper, but Johnny could hear very clearly.

You assumed that he had moved somewhere else since you can’t hear the boys screaming in the background.

“Did something happen?” Johnny asks, “I’m not with them right now, so you can tell me.”

You remember the last time you had last talked to Mark.

It has been exactly 5 days since the both of you last texted— or even called. You weren’t sure why or how it happened.

It had taken a big toll on you— you couldn’t focus during lessons and you had spent most of the nights wide awake, thinking what had gone wrong. You had contemplated multiple times whether you should send him a text, but every time you push yourself to say something, you would always remember how busy he is.

“We haven’t been talking for a while,” you answer painfully, “but he’s doing fine, right?”

You hope he’s doing fine.

You hear Johnny lets out an agitated sigh, “Don’t worry Y/N, I’ll go talk to him, okay?”

“Just… don’t stress him out even more.”

“I won’t. Just… stop crying over him, okay?” he says, “Mark is an idiot, he’s not worth crying over.”

A small giggle leaves your lips, “you sound like a girl right now,”

-Day 61

(12:12AM) Mark: hey babe

(12:12AM) Mark: johnny just talked to me about what happened

(12:13AM) Mark: can we talk?

(12:45AM) You: okay

(12:45AM) Mark: great, I’ll call you

(12:45AM) You: no

(12:46AM) You: we’ll text

(12:46AM) You: here

You just know that you would be a sobbing mess once you hear Mark’s voice.

(12:46AM) Mark: oh

(12:46AM) Mark: okay

(12:46AM) Mark: youre okay tho

(12:47AM) Mark: right

(12:52AM) You: mhm

(12:52AM) Mark: that’s great um

(12:52AM) Mark: i didn’t know you were feeling that way

(12:53AM) Mark: i’ve been so busy lately i forgot to text or call you

(12:53AM) Mark: and that is not your fault at all

(12:53AM) Mark: i shouldn’t be acting like that in the first place

(12:54AM) Mark: its just really hard with timezones and everything

(12:54AM) Mark: especially with the comeback and all

(12:54AM) You: what are you saying mark?

(12:55AM) Mark: what?

(12:58AM) You: are you breaking up with me?

(12:58AM) Mark: wat? no. what.

(12:58AM) You: wait so we’re not breaking up?

(12:58AM) Mark: what

(12:58AM) Mark: no of course not what are you saying?

(12:59AM) You: I DON’T KNOW

(12:59AM) You: i thought you wanted to break up

(12:59AM) Mark: no I don’t want to what the fuck

(12:59AM) You: so we’re good now right?

-Day 51

Soft melodies were playing in the background while the both of you were doing different things.

You were sitting on your chair, your elbows pressing painfully against your desk, working on your homework diligently. Your phone was perched on your lamp, making sure Mark could see your face.

Your boyfriend was laying on his bed with a notebook laying in front of him, a pen in his hand while he thought of lyrics. He had his legs swinging back and forth behind him cutely.

You exhale loudly as you re-read the same question over and over again.

Mark immediately looks up, “you okay?”

You hum without even looking at him before you continued doing your work.

Mark decides to leave you alone as to not distract you. He rests his cheek against his arm as he tries to think of another sentence to finish the song he was working on.

His eyes slowly dart towards you who had their eyebrows furrowed cutely, a pout plastered on your lips, baby hairs littering against your forehead and cheeks.

Without even realising, a small smile spreads across Mark’s lips. His breath slows down as he relaxed and stares at your figure.

Multiple sentences that could be used as lyrics flooded through his head. He quickly sits up to write the flood of inspiration that was bursting through his veins.

-Day 43

(2:53AM) boyfie: duuudee!!

(2:53AM) boyfie: vlive!!

(2:53AM) boyfie: quick!!!!!

(3:15AM) You: omg ok give me a sec

(3:15AM) You: I just woke up

With a yawn, you open the vlive app and click on the NCT127 page to enter the live your boyfriend was doing.

‘Hi’ you type in the comment section. You stare at your boyfriend, scanning his facial expression to notice your comment.

Exactly 5 seconds later, a huge grin spreads across his lips as he looks up at the camera to wave.

It eased you to know that he was waving at you, for you. Maybe you were being selfish, but you were glad that Mark was yours. Although it does get on your nerves when you see your friends post about how much he loves your boyfriend.

‘mark is so handsome’ you typed.

Unfortunately, Mark didn’t notice your comment, but Donghyuck did. Donghyuck nudges your boyfriend, who immediately responded, turning to look at him.

His friend showed him your comment, which your boyfriend immediately smiles to.

‘I love mark lee so much!!!’

A few seconds later Mark creates a small heart at the camera before looking away with crimson red cheeks.

-Day 38

“So you and Mina, huh?” you say bitterly, rolling your eyes.

You were referring to the interaction between the two when Mina was leaving music bank. You might’ve been slightly jealous of the chemistry between the two, especially when all the fans would ship the both of them.

Mark can only watch you in amusement, a small smile playing along his lips.

“Is she better than me?” you say sarcastically, clicking your tongue,

You envied their friendship. Someone who was merely a friend was able to see your boyfriend so easily.

His face softens, “you know she’s not like that, baby,” his tone was soft, easy to persuade you.

Baby. You wanted to scoff at that. He only used that term when he was trying to win your heart.

You huff, crossing your arms violently. “You’re always with her!”

He chuckles, looking down at his phone before looking back up at you quickly.

You pout at the boy through the screen, “you love me more, right Mark?”

He sarcastically rolls his at your question. What kind of question was that?

His face scrunches in disgust, “Firstly, I don’t even love Mina that way, babe,” he tells you, “and secondly, the only person I love you, alright? So stop being jealous you wimp.”

“Wimp?” you scoff, “and you’re my boyfriend?”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Just as you were about to respond to him, your phone vibrated with a notification. You look down and gaped.

_happiness_o wants to send you a message.

“Mark…”

You unlocked your phone to see the message that Mina was trying to send you.

“You told her?!” you exclaimed, looking up at your boyfriend who was stifling his laughter. “Mark! Why would you do that?!” you whine, throwing your phone next to you.

“In my defence, I didn’t tell her to send you a text,” he says, “I was just talking about how cute you were being!”

-Day 22

You were laying on your side, deep in a slumber while Mark stares at you lovingly.

Your cheek pressed cutely against your pillow which made your lips pout cutely. The little pieces of hair adorning your temples and cheeks only made Mark want to push it back against your ear. Something he would do every time you were sleeping with him.

He suddenly got an idea and fishes out his phone, searching a filter that he had saved for this particular moment.

He clicks on the filter, waiting for it to load for a moment, before adjusting the angle so the filter could scan his face properly. Once he was sure it won’t budge, he presses record.

‘your soulmate is sleeping right now’

A sad smile adorns his lips, looking at you through the screen. He flips the camera, zooming into your sleeping form then ending the video.

Mark was quite hesitant to post it since he was never the type to post about his relationship with you. But these past few days has been hitting him differently.

He missed you so much, he swore he could go crazy. He had spent another unreasonable amount on you again. He couldn’t even sleep because you were always stuck on his mind.

He bit his lip anxiously before posting the video on his Instagram story. He noticed how your phone vibrated right when it was uploaded— you had his notifications on.

-Day 15

“So it’s gonna be forever~” you sing loudly, pointing your hairbrush to Mark who was laughing loudly through the screen.

“Or it’s gonna go down in flames…” he sings off tune.

While you were busy singing and dancing from all Taylor Swift’s song, Mark had stealthily recorded you with his phone to upload them on his private Instagram.

‘idiot. But my idiot’ he captioned before tagging you and posting it on his page.

“Sing with me, Mark!” you shout, looking at your boyfriend. “Cherry lips, crystal skies, I could show you incredible things,” you sang, pointing at Mark.

Your boyfriend blushes when he realizes you were singing to him.

You cough loudly before clearing your throat after blaring out lyrics to Taylor swift. You reach for your cup of water before gulping it down.

“What song should we sing to next?” you ask, scrolling down through you and Mark’s playlist. The both of you had shared one account ever since he found out the both of you shared the same music taste.

“Should we do a rap?” he suggests.

You smirk up at him, “oooh, because you’re a rapper, huh? Okay, okay.”

You thumb press on ‘Beauty and a Beat’ by Justin Bieber and Nicki Minaj.

“I’m a better rapper than you, Mark Lee,” you shout at your boyfriend before rapping to Nicki Minaj’s part.

It was so adorable at how you stumbled over some words, or when you had your eyebrows furrowed trying to rap to the lyrics.

At this moment, Mark thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. You had your hair tied up in the ugliest bun he has ever seen, but you looked so adorable, especially in the huge t-shirt you were wearing. But most importantly, the huge grin plastered on your lips and tint of red adorning your cheeks, puts a smile on Mark’s face.

Right when the song has ended, you let out a tired sigh, lying against your bed.

“Am I better than you, Markie?”

He bit back a smile and nodded, “you should replace me in NCT, babe,”

You pretend to think, “I should, shouldn’t I?”

-Day 7

You were talking about Mark about your friend who had pissed you off earlier today.

He shrugs, “honestly, I saw that coming. I never liked her,”

You groan, throwing your head back, “I know right,” you stress, “I should’ve listened to you,”

Mark rests his cheek against his palm, “so what are you going to do?”

You pout, “I don’t know. What should I do, Mark?”

Your boyfriend hums, thinking for a while, “I think it’s best if you cut her off. She doesn’t deserve you, babe.”

You let out an aspirated sigh, frowning. “she was just a close friend…” you trailed off sadly.

“I know, baby,” he coos, “but your mental health is important too.”

Your eyes widen cutely, “I love you,”

That caught your boyfriend off-guard, his eyes widen in awe. “w-what, don’t be weird!” he sputters out.

“You’re weird!” you bite back.

-Day 3

“Mark,” you call out, your boyfriend immediately humming. “I learnt a new tiktok dance,”

He raises his eyebrows. He has never downloaded Tiktok but he knows how much you love the app. Most of the time the both of you were calling, you would be scrolling through the app, sending him links of videos that you found funny.

It was a secret: Mark never actually watches the video. But you do not need to know that.

“Show me, baby,”

You stood up, adjusting your laptop in a decent position. You reach for your phone to play the music before you started dancing.

Mark recognized the song as Savage. It was a song that Taeyong would constantly play.

Your boyfriend’s eyes widen in bewilderment, amazed at how good you were at dancing.

“Woah, woah,” he gapes when you started throwing back.

When the song ended, you ambled towards your laptop, “how was it? Was I good? Was I as good as Taeyong and Johnny?”

He rolls his eyes at that, “do you do it to other people?”

“What?”

“The throwing back thing,”

Ah. He was jealous.

You shrug, looking away from his intense gaze, “I don’t know. I was planning to ask some of my friends about their opinion.”

“Y/N,” he says sternly.

“I was joking! Jeez. You’re such a party pooper.”

-Day 2

You laid on your side, your arm supporting your head. A movie was playing on your laptop screen but you could only stare at Mark’s face.

He was busy laughing at one of the scenes but you couldn’t focus from his handsome face.

He was wearing the ugly black glasses that he chose a few weeks ago, but he still looked so good in your eyes. His black hair was styled messily from laying around.

“Babe, are you watching?” his eyes widen cutely after sensing how quiet you were being.

“I am,” you mumble out, but your eyes never leaved your boyfriend’s screen.

“Okay,” he whispers, resting his body as he continued watching the movie that was played on the screen.

At this moment in time, you wanted to tell Mark how much you love him. You wanted to smother him in kisses.

“Mark,” you called. You realise how he had paused the movie that was playing to listen to you. “I love you,” you tell him.

Mark was frozen for a second, confused yet flustered by your sudden confusion. He smirks, playing the movie, “weirdo. I love you too, you cutie.”

-Day 1

(11:01PM) bub: babyyyy hiiiii

(11:01PM) bub: wanna call ;)

(11:05PM) bub: hello why r u not replying

(11:05PM) bub: it’s only 11 there

(11:10PM) bub: I know youre not asleep babe

(11:10PM) bub: arghhh

(11:10PM) bub: are you asleep????

(11:10PM) bub: :(

(11:10PM) bub: well ok gn bb I’ll talk to you tmr

(11:10PM) bub: love youuuu

D-DAY

You were laying on Mark’s bed restlessly, waiting for your boyfriend to reach his dorm. When you heard the door unlock, a grin spread across your lips when you saw your boyfriend walk in.

“Hi Mark,” you greet, waving at your boyfriend.

Mark looks up at you and nods, “hi y/n,” he says back before turning the other way to go to the bathroom.

You bit back a smile quietly, giving him a minute to realise. You quietly stood up by the bed to amble towards your boyfriend.

“Wait,” he pauses, turning around slowly, his eyes widening at the sight of you walking up to him, “w-what? Is this real? y/n?”

You smile at him, spreading your arms, waiting for him to tackle you in a hug. “I’m here, baby.”

“Oh my god,” he breathes out before rushing towards you to pull you against his chest. “You’re here, oh my god,”

You rest your head on his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. You’ve missed the moment for so long. For more than 3 months, you had to live without Mark’s presence.

He pulls you away, his hand gripping your shoulder tightly. “How— what are you doing here?!” he exclaims.

Your cheeks were hurting from smiling so much, “to see you, of course!”

“You surprised me!” he exclaims, pulling you in for another hug, “oh my god, you scared me so much, I love you so much. When did you get here? You didn’t answer my texts yesterday!”

“I love you too and I was in the plane, I couldn’t text you back,” you reply, however your voice was muffled by the black cotton shirt he was wearing. You pull away, looking up at him, “are you not going to kiss me?” you asked abruptly.

He looks down at you with wide eyes, “w-what. That is so sudden, don’t say that!” he stutters out, looking away from you.

You pout at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “what? I came all the way here, didn’t get enough sleep just to see my boyfriend but he won’t kiss me?”

He scowls at you, his arm dropping to rest around your waist. He leans down to connect both your lips. You felt your heart spark when you felt his lips graze against yours.

You didn’t even realise you were pulling him down even more to kiss him deeper. Mark’s grip on your waist tightened, pulling you even closer.

“Ah, the kids have finally met,” you heard someone say from behind you two.

Mark and you pull away breathlessly, his lips tinted a bright shiny red. The both of you turn around to see Taeil standing at the door.

Your boyfriend whines, “Go away, Hyung,”

501 notes · View notes

ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

Text

Let Me Get Close To You

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “wrong number” square. I sat down to write this a couple of days ago & just couldn’t stop - I hope you guys enjoy the cute little verse I created (that I’ll more than likely revisit soon!!). Here’s my bingo card - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!! Word Count: 7K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Summary:

Stuck with the worst professor for Nuclear Science, Peter tries to vent his frustrations to Ned - only to send a desperate text message to Tony Stark, instead. When an immediate spark and so many things in common make it easy for Peter to fall further for the elegant genius, what’s the worst that could really happen?

Or: the one where Peter texts the wrong number & romance ensues.

Read on AO3 here.

----

Fuming from a frustrating Nuclear Science class, Peter maturely stomped his way out of the engineering building. They were only two weeks into the semester and the old man already had Peter on edge. His major revolved around the class and his ability to get the most out of the information. The dinosaur that stood at the front of the lecture hall every day hadn’t had an original thought since the 90s and refused to see when others did. Much like every old white man, Dr. Milner’s ideas were the be all end all of a science that changed by the millisecond.

Still pretty new to campus after a late sophomore year transfer, Peter didn’t have many people to turn to that weren’t his nerdy and standoffish teammates on the Academic Decathlon team – most of those guys lived in a world a couple steps from the norm, happily keeping to themselves. Though Peter existed there eighty percent of the time, his need to be social and fill a space in the real world made it impossible to commit to that sort of isolation fully. Straddling the line made it difficult to exist on either side – Peter’s favorite pieces of himself were what kept people away, no matter the lifestyle.

With his mind so heavy with all sorts of negativity, Peter suddenly found himself homesick; he spent so much of his life trying to escape the streets of New York – so far from home now, Peter missed them desperately. Thinking about his tangible connection to his favorite urban wasteland, Peter pulled his phone out and hastily typed in Ned’s new number.

Peter Parker [1:23PM]: Hi, I hate it here. Peter Parker [1:24PM]: Dr. Milner is out to get free thinkers. I may not survive the next fourteen weeks.

Peter already felt a little better after typing the words – the mere ability to get one of his many worries off his chest did wonders. Until his phone pinged with a new text message notification, of course.

Nimble fingers pulled the phone from his pocket, his eyes carelessly looking over the screen as it unlocked. Expecting to see Ned’s name there, Peter almost threw the phone to the ground when Siri’s suggestion registered.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:26PM]: Hi stranger! I think this was meant for someone else, but I too think Dr. Milner is out to squash any new idea that doesn’t fit the mold. In his forty-year career, he hasn’t changed a bit.

Another text message was below it, but Peter forced himself to stop reading – his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest already, too much excitement at once couldn’t be good. Out of all the numbers he could’ve accidentally typed, Tony Stark, New York’s genius and resident beauty, Peter’s secret (though not so much) crush, ended up on the other side of the line. The unbelievability of the idea made Peter consider a well thought out prank. Then again, how did any of his fellow classmates know Tony Stark’s personal number?

Sucking in a deep breath, Peter made himself look at the second text message waiting unread.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:27PM]: I’m not sure how you got this number, but I sincerely hope you make it out alive. If you’re in Milner’s class, you’re on the Nuclear track, which means you must be smart. Trust me, the world needs your future contributions, whatever they might be.

Peter gripped the phone a little harder after reading through the second message over and over again. He let his eyes take in each of the words, wondering, if it really was Tony Stark, how anyone ever survived talking to him. In so few sentences, Peter already felt discombobulated, both more confident and turned around than just seconds before. Aside from his infatuation with the man, Peter understood Tony Stark’s contributions to the technology community and the world at large more than most.

It took him a few minutes to convince himself to text back – every time he tried to type something, his fingers froze just centimeters above the screen. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask to make sure he wasn’t getting catfished. Instead, Peter took the direct route, his courage obviously all or nothing in the face of something as big as an accidental interaction with Tony Stark.

Peter Parker [1:35PM]: Holy crap – excuse me for the bluntness, but is this really Tony Stark? Siri doesn’t often get things wrong, especially since I souped her up. But I’m sure you can understand the apprehension. Peter Parker [1:37PM]: Would you be up for answering a few questions just to make sure?

The tip of his finger tapped against the screen impatiently after he hit the send button, his nerves and the not-so-subtle excitement were barely contained under the surface of his skin. He couldn’t remember a time where feeling alive was so prominent.

A smile slipped across his lips when, a moment later, three consecutive texts vibrated Peter’s phone in succession.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:40PM]: You souped up Siri? Steve Jobs is probably turning over in his grave right now. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:41PM]: I think I’m the one that should be asking the questions, don’t you think? How did you even get this number, Peter Parker? It’s a private line. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:42PM]: I am, though – Tony Stark, I mean.

Peter Parker [1:45PM]: Reconfiguring tech is kind of my thing. I used to dumpster dive in high school – you’d be surprised by the cool pieces of technology people put in their trash. Peter Parker [1:46PM]: Oh, bringing out the big guns – I’m happy to see Siri without my latest addition works for others, too. Peter Parker [1:47PM]: It was an accident, sending those first texts to you. My friend in New York just started a new job that came with a paid phone. I still haven’t saved the number. You are one off from him. Peter Parker [1:48PM]: Alright, Tony Stark. Tell me what campus I’m on.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:53PM]: I’m not surprised by anything human beings do, especially in New York City. Throwing out a perfectly good iPod is certainly not the weirdest thing I’ve heard of. Did you make anything interesting in your trash conversion adventures? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:54PM]: You talk a big game, Mr. Parker. Can you walk the walk, too? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:55PM]: He must be on my payroll, then. The bank of numbers my employees have come from my personal network. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:57PM]: That’s an easy one. You’re at MIT – Milner was there when I was a student. The only thing that’s probably different between then and now is the amount of hair the old bag has.

Peter Parker [2:01PM]: You’re not wrong, Mr. Stark. I made things that helped me be self-sufficient. I grew up really poor and couldn’t afford the things everyone else had – so I figured out how all the tech worked and made my own. I’ve been using a ten-year-old iPhone for ages. Peter Parker [2:03PM]: You bet. Are you challenging me? Peter Parker [2:04PM]: He is, actually. He started in an entry level position two weeks ago. Peter Parker [2:06PM]: It’s gross, isn’t it? I’m glad we’ve moved past projectors in the classroom – the hair on his hand would make for a distracting shadow. Peter Parker [2:07PM]: Okay, okay. I think I’m convinced. One more test, though – send me a picture.

Maybe – Tony Stark [2:14PM]: Oh boy, none of that Mr. Stark shit. As far as you’re concerned, I’m Tony. Only Tony. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:15PM]: You made your own. That’s – impressive. I’m impressed and more than a little curious. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:17PM]: Challenging you, no. Enticing you, yes. I’m visiting Cambridge to do a guest lecture series next week. Come see what Stark Industries is up to – I’d love to hear what you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:18PM]: It was as bad as you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:20PM]: Okay, Peter Parker. [IMAGE ATTACHED]

A gasp of shock left Peter’s mouth when he opened the last text to find a smirking Tony Stark looking right at him. To prove the time and date, Tony held up the New York Times, his free hand pointing to the headline Peter read on his phone earlier that morning. After the shock of actually talking to Tony Stark wore off, Peter let himself take in the picture and all of its details.

Tony’s desk was largely visible in the shot – pens and stacks of paper littered the surface, a few rogue pieces of tech ready to be fiddled with acted as paper weights and grungy aesthetic. The man himself was breath taking – his glasses were a deep violet, offset beautifully by the crisp white shirt and black waistcoat covering Tony’s upper body. A light purple tie was loosely knotted at his throat, as if he fiddled with it while working just to keep his hands busy.

Without much thought, Peter saved the photo and added Tony to his contacts before replying – there was no reason not to trust the man, the spark in his shiny hazel eyes seemed to genuine and real to even question.

Peter Parker [2:25PM]: Only Tony, got it. Peter Parker [2:26PM]: Curiosity is good – keeps you fresh and on your toes. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: Oh, I see. You want a chance to impress me. I like that. Not sure what my opinion is going to do for you, but I’ll be happy to share it. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: Gross. Peter Parker [2:30PM]: I’m – you’re… Wow. You really are Tony Stark.

Tony Stark [2:37PM]: I think you’ll have no problems keeping me on my toes, Peter. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: I have a feeling your opinion is one that I’ll be very interested in. You’ve been nothing but blunt this entire conversation, I know I’m getting the real deal stuff. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: I am. I really am Tony Stark. Tony Stark [2:41PM]: It’s your turn, Peter Parker. What face belongs to that beautiful brain of yours?

Forcing himself to breath, Peter looked around the room for the best spot to return the favor. The bed was a hard no, he didn’t want to send the wrong vibe to a person who could easily have whomever they wanted. His desk was small, but meticulously organized – his study materials open and ready for a night of reviewing the only thing obscuring the surface. It was obvious Tony appreciated his brain, it seemed pertinent to take advantage.

After a few attempts, Peter found the perfect angle to catch the light in his eyes, making them shine brightly in the camera. He thanked the clothing gods that he chose a well fitted three-button Henley in his haste to get out the door that morning. The feeling of satisfaction was new, but not unwelcome – he wanted to send Tony the photo; for once, he knew it would impress.

Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Keeping implies longevity. Are you planning on sticking around? Peter Parker [2:56PM]: My brain to mouth filter runs at less than 10% at all times. It has brought me more trouble than shutting up ever would. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: You’re gorgeous. Violet is a nice color on you. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: What do you think? [IMAGE ATTACHED]

Tony Stark [ 2:37PM]: Yes. I think that’s the answer to that question. You’ve presented a puzzle I want to solve. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: Shutting up never got anyone anywhere. The noise we create is what shapes us. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: Thank you – I have a lot of it in my wardrobe. Tony Stark [2:44PM]: & you called me gorgeous; Peter Parker, you’re a stunner.

Peter Parker [2:51PM]: You’re a scientist, you do that for a living. What makes me so different? Peter Parker [2:52PM]: That’s a refreshing opinion. I like the way you think, Only Tony. Peter Parker [2:54PM]: That honestly doesn’t surprise me. Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Do you tell the person who made you blush that you’re blushing? I don’t remember that standard operating procedure.

Tony Stark [3:01PM]: My intrigue is of a personal nature only – the puzzle you pose is of a different sort. Usually, I think and think and think until I solve whatever the problem is. With you, I want to gather all the clues and take it apart piece by piece. Tony Stark [3:02PM]: That’s a little heavy for only knowing each other a couple of hours, but when you know, you know. Tony Stark [3:03PM]: Not usually, but I have a feeling you’re an exception to a lot of things, Peter Parker.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Peter continued to exchange flirty text messages back and forth with Tony – the mood stayed open and easy as the time passed. The older man helped Peter get through Nuclear Dynamics and three hours of decathlon practice. For all the brains Tony had, Peter was surprised to find humor and a bit of insecurity, too. Tony let himself go on tangents and make dad jokes that were a step away from being obscene.

That trend continued for the rest of the week and well into the weekend. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, Peter knew Tony’s schedule, half the newest late-night discoveries, and the way Mr. Sweet Tooth took his sugary coffee. Though a line of attraction and want existed, Peter was happy to know Tony as a person without the ability to act on the obvious tension between them. And while he appreciated the wholistic way they were coming to know each other, Peter couldn’t wait to see Tony throughout the week, either.

The older man seemed to share his sentiment – the shrill notification of a text message received pulled Peter out of his thoughts.

Tony Stark [7:30PM]: Hey, Pete! I present at 5:30 tomorrow afternoon. Want to grab something to eat afterwards? Tony Stark [7:31PM]: I’m impatient to get back to Hogan’s and thought you might appreciate his culinary prowess.

Peter Parker [7:35PM]: Tony – this is the fourth time you’ve reminded me about your presentation. I’ll be there. For dinner, too. Peter Parker [7:36PM]: Culinary prowess; if it merits that title, I’m sure it’ll be worth it.

Tony Stark [7:42PM]: I know – I just get some performance anxiety. It helps to remind myself that you’re going to be there. Tony Stark [7:43PM]: It is. Hap is an old friend of mine. He left MIT to go make his restaurant dreams happen and has been stupidly happy ever since.

Peter Parker [7:47PM]: I get it – I’ll gladly be your security blanket, Tony. Peter Parker [7:48PM]: Something tells me there’s more to that story, but I’m sure you’ll tell me one day. I’m excited to try it. Should I look up the menu beforehand, or let it be a surprise?

Tony Stark [7:55PM]: I like the sound of that. I’ve pictured having you in my arms often. Tony Stark [7:57PM]: There’s always more to the story, Pete. Let it be a surprise! In fact, I’ll order for you to make sure you get the whole newbie experience.

Peter Parker [8:05PM]: I’ll boldly say you can have me in your arms as often as you like. Peter Parker [8:06PM]: The newbie experience – there hasn’t been a time in my life where that’s been a good thing. Peter Parker [8:07PM]: Yet. Surprisingly – I trust you.

The next day went by quickly – Peter took a quiz in Nuclear Science and dug into his other two classes to keep his mind focused on anything other than Tony’s imminent presence. His last class was a core history class, so he gladly tucked into the reading the professor let them loose to do. The chime of his alarm broke through Peter’s fog a couple pages from the end of his assignment. Though he liked to be ahead, Peter gladly took the extra few minutes to get himself together before heading to MIT’s presentation hall.

Decked out in his finest pair of black jeans, a blue denim short-sleeve button down, and solid black high-top Converse on his feet, Peter walked the few minutes it took to get back onto campus from his small apartment. Unsurprisingly, a line was formed out the door of students hoping to get into the presentation last minute. Tony told him earlier in the week that they waited to advertise his appearance until the a few hours before to stop the masses from flocking. To Peter, the time restriction seemed to only make it worse.

In Tony’s excitement to have Peter there, the older man set aside a ticket for him – instead of joining the line like he might’ve without Tony’s insistence, Peter walked straight into the cool auditorium, snagging a seat at the end of a row located dead center in the auditorium. The vantage point was perfect – Peter wouldn’t have any trouble catching Tony’s eye as he spoke. Grinning at his access to such a simple pleasure, Peter relaxed back into the seat, passing the time until Tony took the stage by watching the crowd flood in around him.

It wasn’t long before the lights were dimming and a sweaty, high ranking alumnus gave Tony Stark a mediocre welcome onto the stage. The crowd broke out into a cheer that more than made up for the old man’s subpar words. Tony timed his entrance perfectly; he walked out as the energy rose, the shift in the crowd’s tension working to enhance everyone’s excitement. Peter found himself glued to the man, who until that moment, existed entirely on the other side of the phone – he didn’t want to miss a single second of full-body absorption.

A black suit coat sat snuggly on Tony’s shoulders, a singular button keeping the sides closed. His dark hair was elegantly styled, the bed-head look enhancing the easy-going style Peter knew Tony strived for. The facial hair Peter came to truly appreciate over the last few days of texting drew attention to his sharp cheekbones. Tony seemed genuinely happy to be there if the beaming smile on his face said anything at all. With a few claps and the corniest joke, the older man got the crowd under control, proceeding onto his speech with an effortless transition.

As expected, Peter found himself interested from the very beginning. Tony’s new work on energy and its uses amongst transportation and city overhaul was ingenious – when things got up and running, New York’s power grid would run completely on sustainable energy. So many thoughts flashed across the front of Peter’s mind – he wondered if Tony would let him take a look at the blueprints. He might not have much to contribute, yet Peter understood the opportunity for learning and development when it presented itself.

By the end of Tony’s presentation, Peter was overjoyed to know that he wouldn’t need to feign interest in the topics Tony brought to the table. For a while, Stark Industries went through a slump of working on weapons and junky tech Peter found in the trash more often than he ever wanted to admit. It felt good to be excited about something new coming from the company – Tony Stark was the smartest person in his field, anything less than almost perfect just didn’t do the man and his ideas justice.

After fielding a lot more questions than Peter expected, Tony headed off the stage with a roar of applause – the genius wasn’t a household name for nothing. Smiling at the thought, Peter pulled his phone out; he got to see behind the curtain more than others – he felt a sudden surge of gratefulness at the fact. Every person around him would do anything for the privilege; taking that for granted just wouldn’t do.

Peter Parker [6:45PM]: You’re an incredible public speaker, Tony. Peter Parker [6:46PM]: Thanks for making me come!

Tony Stark [6:49PM]: How inappropriate of me is it to say that this isn’t the only time I plan to make you come?

Peter Parker [6:55PM]: Very, but it’s appreciated, nonetheless. I’ll meet you over by the Engineering building whenever you’re done trying to outrun your fans.

Tony Stark [7:00PM]: You’re fucking hilarious. I’ll meet you there in five.

True to his word, Tony snuck up behind Peter a few minutes later – soft palms that gave way to well-earned callouses pressed against Peter’s cheeks as Tony covered his eyes. The mere fact that Tony was there at all was surprise enough; the touches and softly whispered “Hello, Pete,” in his ear felt like more than enough to cause a coronary.

Shaking his head to clear it, Peter turned in Tony’s arms, a huge grin playing across his lips. With the way they were standing now, Peter’s chest was pressed delightfully against Tony’s – he felt each and every one of Tony’s inhales of oxygen and exhales of carbon dioxide that brought Peter’s attention to the firm muscles pressing and pulling the man’s abdomen. His breath caught when Tony palmed his cheek, their mouths mere inches apart. Despite not actually knowing each other, Peter felt comfortable in Tony’s embrace.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter finally replied after allowing his breath to mingle with Tony’s. As they stood there pressed together, neither could decipher where one started and the other began. The thought made his grin grow a little wider, the courage inside of him pulsing a little more boldly with life. “You were amazing up there.”

Tony remained perfectly still; his limbs seemingly frozen in a clench to keep Peter close to him. His grip was firm, both the hand on Peter’s hip and his late day stubbled cheek. Like the man himself, Tony’s touch left something behind that kept Peter on the hook, always seeking more. He half expected for Tony to lean in and slot their lips together – his deepest desires and tangible wants were starting to collide in such close proximity.

Instead, Peter’s smile was returned with quirked cheeks and bright hazel eyes. “You weren’t too bored?” Tony asked, his voice soft in the small space between them. His thumb swiped constantly across Peter’s cheek, the obvious need to move apparent, even in such an intimate situation.

Chuckling lightly, Peter shook his head. “So far from bored. My thesis research is all about sustainable energy – you had me interested from the very beginning,” Peter replied almost immediately, not caring that his excitement clearly shone through in the pitch of his voice. The way he was leaning into Tony’s touch, Peter didn’t have much of a chance to disguise his truth, anyway.

“You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for – I can tell already.” Tony’s words were mumbled almost as if the older man was embarrassed to say them – to hand out such a compliment to someone other than himself. And yet – Tony’s hesitation made the statement mean so much more; the rarity of such kind words (despite being spoken so softly) did nothing but make Peter want to melt into Tony even further.

Before things could get too mushy or physical, Peter took a large step out of Tony’s arms – begrudgingly, the need for space was prominent if they ever wanted the night to continue. Never mind the fact that paparazzi were constantly hounding and following Tony wherever the man went. Though he was deemed an appropriate companion at the time, Peter was more than sure the public would not agree.

With that thought in mind, Peter shot Tony a shy smile – “I’m pretty famished. Want to show me what Hogan’s is all about?”

They spent the ten-minute walk talking about the presentation – Tony grilled Peter about a few of the technical parts, while Peter drooled a little bit over the projected uses of Tony’s new energy storage and production. Like two nerdy peas in a pod, neither could help themselves – geeking out and talking about something they were both interested in made the rest of the world melt away. Peter might’ve kept on his tangent if it weren’t for a tall, thickly built man clearing his throat.

Looking up at the noise, Peter realized they’d walked a few blocks already and were standing in the lobby of a well-maintained hole in the wall that radiated the most delicious smells. Grease and cheese and freshly dropped French fries hit his senses all at once – there was no doubt that whatever they were about to consume would be more than delicious.

Peter was seconds away from wiping drool from his chin when Tony broke out into action. He took the couple of steps between their current position and the hostess stand to wrap who could only be Happy in a firm, breathtaking hug. “Happy, my man. It’s so good to see you,” Tony exclaimed as he stepped away, an adorable look in his eyes. “I’ve been talking this place up to Peter here, thought I’d cash in on your good will.”

Suddenly, all eyes were on Peter – Tony looked at him like something he couldn’t wait to deconstruct, while Happy tilted his head curiously, as if the one glance would tell him all he needed to know about Peter Parker. Unwillingly to stand there like an animal on display, Peter broke through the weird with a soft laugh and a light wave.

“Nice to meet you, Happy. Tony’s been selling me on your food for days now. I can’t wait to try it,” Peter said, his shoulders rolling back to help him stand a little taller. Though he had nothing to prove to the total stranger in front of him, Peter couldn’t help but want to make a good impression – Happy obviously meant something to Tony; their comradery and easy affection said that without much effort.

There was a moment where all three guys seemed to look between each other – Peter watched with bated breath as Tony and Happy carried on a silent conversation with just a few blinks and forehead crinkles. By the time Peter understood what was happening, Happy stepped a little closer to him, his big hand reaching out for what could only be a handshake. Without hesitating, Peter took it – for whatever reason, the handshake felt monumental; like with the one touch, he beat the level boss and gained access to the next one.

“Good to meet you, too. Tony’s good about that sort of advertisement – we probably wouldn’t have made it without his ugly mug around at the beginning,” Happy replied. “You guys know what you want? I’ll get it on the grill personally.”

At that point, Tony stepped back into the spotlight and grabbed the reins – he ordered everything at rapid fire speed, like the menu existed as a hard copy in Tony’s mind. Considering the warmth of the older man’s welcome and Happy’s cryptic words, Peter didn’t doubt that Tony was a regular – more than likely a founding customer, even.

It took no time at all for their food to come out to the small table in the corner Tony led him to. The tray was piled with an abundance of food – cheese steaks, fries, burgers, even a couple of desserts littered the table as Tony unpacked their haul. Peter’s eyes were wide, his mouth watering with a want that only Zap’s Bodega could illicit before. “This – it all looks amazing,” Peter babbled, his stomach both hungry and overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

“Just wait until you taste it. Happy used to crank out these cheesesteaks on the little hot plate we had in our dorm room. They were excellent, but the addition of the flattop has made them unbeatable.”

Unable to decide what smelled the best, Peter grabbed whatever was nearest to him. His fingers wrapped around the greasy paper of the aforementioned cheesesteak, his mouth watering even more. “So, you and Happy were roommates at MIT?” Peter asked around a large bite, the food in his mouth muffling some of the words. It really was good – worth looking like a pig in front of the most beautiful man alive.

“Hap and I go way back. His father worked security at Stark Industries – he was on my dad’s personal protection team for most of my life. When Happy’s mom died and the need for babysitting became a thing, Happy started to spend the evenings with me after school. In a lot of ways, he’s the only family I’ve ever had. When he first opened up this place, I was young and just looking for some investment that would piss my dad off. I knew Happy had talent, but neither of us thought this place would blow up the way it did.” Tony looked up then, a vulnerability in his eyes. “We’ve been in business together ever since.”

Smiling encouragingly, Peter nodded in Tony’s direction – their closeness, Tony’s unwavering advertisement and protectiveness, even some of the food names he could see on the menu; it all made sense. After taking another bite of the cheesesteak, Peter chewed slowly before responding. “There’s always more to the story, right?” he questioned cheekily. “It sounds like your gamble worked out for you – I didn’t look at the menu, but I did Google Hogan’s; there’s ten locations within a 300-mile radius.”

A snort had Peter looking up, his eyebrows quirked. “I should’ve known,” Tony said through a laugh. “Your generation is all about instant gratification.”

Their eyes locked then, Tony’s words and their meaning sitting in the space between them. Peter forced himself not to blink – he wanted to memorize the rich hazel color that barely ringed a growing pupil. Hunger and want and something unrecognizable existed in Tony’s glance; when it was all over and Tony moved on, Peter desperately wanted to remember the genuine rawness he drew out of one of the world’s greatest minds.

“Or just impatience,” Peter countered. He drew his eyes away, needing to break the glance to stop himself from propelling himself across the table and tackle Tony to the ground. Though it looked as if Happy kept the place spick and span, Peter didn’t want to think about Tony’s expensive suit on any other floor aside from his own.

They attempted to pull the small talk back to something a little tamer, but the road of the rest of the evening had already been paved. It became harder to focus on anything other than the thick press of Tony’s thigh against his own under the table. As the minutes passed, Peter noticed Tony staring, and after a while, the older man just never stopped. Every time he looked up, Peter caught hazel eyes taking him in – undressing him button by button with the sheer want in his eyes. A red blush took up permanent residence on Peter’s cheeks and neck, the color following him out of the restaurant and out onto the street where Tony took his hand without hesitation.

Before his mom passed away, Peter remembered a softly mumbled conversation laying across both his parents early, early in the morning. His dad’s big fingers were wrapped so neatly around his mother’s, the embrace tight, despite the hour. Peter reached out to touch the unbreakable seam, his eyes wide with wonder. “They fit,” Peter whispered softly, his finger running reverently over their joint fingers.

His mother pulled him close then, her lips finding that special place on his cheek. “One day, Petey, you’ll find that perfect person whose hands will fit yours just the way your father’s fit mine.”

A warmth settled in Peter’s chest as he slid his hand into Tony’s, their fingers interlacing perfectly with ease. The immaculate fit of Tony’s hand pressing against his own made him snuggle in further – whatever happened between them after this, Peter would forever know how easily he and Tony Stark fit together.

Giving Tony’s fingers a squeeze at the thought, Peter looked up, breaking the silence – “Do you want to see my apartment? I’m sure it’s not nearly as fancy as the hotel you’re staying at, but I’ve got Netflix and a really comfortable couch.”

Tony took a few long strides to answer, his face a little pensive. “I’d love to see your apartment, Pete,” Tony replied easily. They came to a stop at the crosswalk – Tony used his momentum to pull Peter close to his chest while they waited out the light. “I don’t care about fancy. You’ll be there.”

While Peter had lots of things to reply, his words were cut off by slightly chapped lips eagerly pressing against his own. It took Peter a second to recognize what in the glorious hell was happening – when the reality of the situation finally registered, Peter surged forward, tilting his head to not only return the kiss, but deepen it.

Both of Peter’s hands found their way around Tony’s neck to keep him close – he felt like he might pass out from the sheer goodness of Tony surrounding him without the grounding touch. He was far from a virgin, but none of his previous encounters knocked him off his feet in such a way that made Peter feel like a fumbling newbie.

Sipping from each other’s mouths, Peter was surprised by a strange and unrecognizable voice coming from behind them – “the light’s changed, fellas.”

It took an obscene amount of effort to pull away – though the stranger’s words made his face burn with embarrassment, Peter was reluctant to step out of Tony’s embrace and the tantalizing press of warm lips against his own. Regardless of his trepidation, Peter reluctantly moved back.

He made sure to slip his hand into Tony’s before they set off again.

“I’m just another couple of blocks away,” Peter reassured, a hungry smirk on his face. Tony returned the look, their stride all of the sudden lengthening. Their walk turned from a leisurely stroll to a brisk half-run. If it weren’t for the want raging through Peter’s veins, he might’ve found the change hilarious. In all of their time together, Tony never expressed impatience – he always seemed calm, cool, and collected. Yet, in the face of heat and need and the promise of bare skin, Tony let that mask drop.

Happy to know a new something about Tony, Peter reveled in the pent-up silence that carried them back to his apartment. Snagging a ground floor unit close to the entrance, they luckily didn’t have to wait for an elevator or awkwardly pretend that they weren’t about to push the other against the wall and start ravaging whatever pieces of skin they could find. Instead, Peter impatiently pulled Tony behind him as they walked between building 1 and 2 with eager steps.

After some fumbling and a set of dropped keys, Peter finally got his door open and Tony through it. Without missing a beat, Tony pushed him back against the newly closed front door, their lips harshly joining. Groaning at the contact and suddenness of it all, Peter pulled Tony in – any space left between them was unacceptable now that they were in a private space where wandering eyes and clicking cameras couldn’t see. Their obvious passion was too much for the public eye; Peter so desperately wanted to keep Tony to himself – devouring him in a safe space was only the first step.

As Tony traced his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, Peter fumbled his hands down the older man’s chest until he could pull the crisp button-down from well-tailored pants. The second he was able, Peter shoved his hands under the soft fabric, his palms greedily pressing into Tony’s hairy chest. A groan left his mouth – the chest hair under his fingers was soft and teasing. Peter was caught between the urge to tug at the strands and lay his head gently against them just to feel the texture against his skin.

Tony made the decision for him – large hands were suddenly on Peter’s waist, his feet coming up off the ground with little effort. Unable to keep his hands where they were, Peter broke the kiss with a groan and shifted until he could wrap his legs around Tony’s hips. Peter panted for breath while his lips were still free as Tony navigated through the room blindly. Another soft moan left Peter’s lips when his back hit the pliable leather of his couch.

Where just moments before they were standing chest to chest, Peter now had the full weight of Tony against him. The older man fit seamlessly between his splayed thighs, their hips lining up in a way that made Peter’s cock pulse against the confines of his tight jeans. With a bit of shifting, their groins were matched – Tony’s thick cock felt sinful against Peter’s. If his impending orgasm was already upon him, Peter wondered what it’d be like when their clothes hit the floor and he really got to taste what Tony had to offer.

Like he was reading his mind, Tony made quick work of the buttons on Peter’s shirt. Calloused hands dragged up and down Peter’s bare chest as he pushed the navy fabric to the side – his skin was practically hairless, the only exception being a small trail of it leading down to the v of his jeans. Tony let his fingers play through that small amount of hair, his fingers teasing as they got closer to the one spot that Peter wanted him to be the most.

Deciding to take his mind off of the heat in his belly and the closeness of his orgasm, Peter returned the favor. His hands were shaky as he passed button after button through their holes. With a gasp, Peter spread the sides of Tony’s shirt to get the maximum impact of the older man’s torso. He liked what he felt before, but the view was something else – Tony’s chest was chiseled and cut, his pecs and abs straining with effort. Peter noticed throbbing veins and a few scars in his perusal; the evidence of Tony’s life and the way he lived it made Peter pull the man a little closer. Tony Stark drove him absolutely mad – every new thing he learned contributed to the insanity even more.

Before he could get lost in the thought, Tony’s lips were skating along his cheek, only to stop and caress the outer shell of Peter’s ear. “You feel amazing, Pete,” Tony babbled, his tongue peeking out to join in on the fun. “I want to taste you, feel your cock pulse against my tongue. You’re so fucking hard and I can’t fucking wait. Is that okay?”

Peter pulled back then, a soft grin pulling at his lips. In all of his sexual encounters, Peter couldn’t recall someone caring about him so thoroughly, let alone stopping to ask how he felt. Both hands came up to grip Tony’s cheeks until the older man was looking right at him. Through the haze of arousal, Peter recognized that warm spark in Tony’s eye – it was the look in that first picture that kept Peter coming back for more.

“It’s perfect, Tony. I’ll take anything you want to give me,” Peter said breathlessly. He leaned up for a kiss to drive the words home.

Tony looked genuinely happy when Peter pulled away – his cheeks were flushed with obvious arousal, his lips quirked in a saucy smile. Without saying anything, Tony nodded his head and travelled slowly down the length of Peter’s body. Nimble fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans before Peter could think or even draw his next breath.

Sturdy hands didn’t hesitate to pull at the waistband of Peter’s boxers – his flushed cock was already leaking as it came to rest casually against the firm abs of Peter’s chest. Tony’s calloused fingers immediately wrapped around the length, giving a tight squeeze to the base. The sheer feeling of his crush’s hands on him was almost enough for Peter to jump straight over the edge. Catching Tony’s eyes and biting down on his bottom lip was his only saving grace – the knowing look in beautiful hazel eyes pulled a chuckle from Peter’s chest, the noise distraction enough.

“Okay?” Tony asked again, the words were spoken with his mouth hovering just inches from the pulsing flesh of Peter’s cock. He could feel Tony’s breath against his sensitive skin, everything about the situation making it hard to articulate or think or exist as anything other than a melted puddle of goo against broken-in leather.

Peter took a couple of deep breaths before nodding vigorously. He felt a red flush travel even further down his neck and torso, arousal and embarrassment mixing together to create the ultimate aphrodisiac. He finally found his voice, muttering a choked off “yes” before the motor function of speaking left him once more.

After a heartbeat and then another where neither man moved, Tony gripped the sharp bones of Peter’s hips, pushing his lower body down against the cushions. They shared another look as Tony lowered his head, his pink tongue poking out to lick lightly against the leaky head of Peter’s cock. Hazel eyes stayed on him – Tony continued to lap along his sensitive skin, all while killing Peter slowly with the heat and want reflecting back. By the time Tony had all of Peter in his mouth, Peter was seconds away from being undone.

It’d been so long, and he’d wanted Tony since he understood what attraction was. Being pinned down by the person he desired longer than some of his friendships did nothing but magnify everything that was happening. His skin felt like it was on fire under Tony’s touch – the suction around his cock felt like it was coming from all angles, everywhere, all at once. Unable to stop himself, Peter moaned, panted, and shamelessly shouted Tony’s name as the blissful seconds passed.

The telling zip of a zipper being pushed down, and Tony’s hasty shift told Peter that Tony was similarly affected. He picked up his head to watch Tony suck his cock down while his right hand moved at the same pace – while he took Peter’s cock into his throat, Tony was stroking his own erection with sure strokes. As if the heat around him wasn’t enough, the beautiful visual of Tony taking his own pleasure pushed him those last couple of steps over the edge.

Bubbling heat in his belly boiled over. Peter frantically reached down to grip Tony’s shoulder, his mouth wordlessly shaping around warning words. “I’m – I’m… fuck, Tony. I’m going to cum,” Peter finally managed to gasp out. There was just enough time for Tony to pull away, to let Peter’s pleasure splatter on the blood warm skin of Peter’s stomach. Yet, Tony held fast, instead – he redoubled his efforts, his lips tightening and throat relaxing in invitation.

Unable to stop himself, Peter let go – his hips thrust up into Tony’s enticing heat, the man’s name dripping from his lips as pulse after pulse of cum left his body. Tony moaned around him, swallowing easily without pulling his mouth away or stopping his ministrations. The suction continued until Peter was reaching down halfheartedly to push at Tony’s soft curls.

While he caught his breath, Tony crawled up Peter’s body, a self-satisfied smirk on his red cheeks. Peter grinned at him, happiness and satiation rolling off of him in waves. Without thought, Peter pulled Tony tightly to him, their lips finding each other like opposite poles of magnets drawn together by the sheer force of nature. Tony shared Peter’s taste with him, his talented tongue thrusting into Peter’s mouth with a shared groan between them. It was all so hot; Peter felt his spent cock already starting to come back to life.

With that thought in mind, Peter started to reach down to help Tony finish achieving his own pleasure; yet his hand was batted away with affectionate finesse. Peter shifted until he could meet the honey hazels he was already addicted to, a question in his eye.

“There’s no need,” Tony mumbled, his face tucking into the skin of Peter’s neck. “You’re so sexy, I couldn’t help but touch myself. The way you look in the throes of pleasure – it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“Holy shit.”

Tony chuckled at the awe in Peter’s voice. “My sentiment exactly.”

For a while, they stayed stretched out on Peter’ couch, exchanging kisses and greedy touches on all the bare skin either could reach. Without so much adrenaline coursing through his system, Peter felt himself melting even further into the comfy cushions below him. After a jaw breaking yawn, Peter reached up to cup Tony’s cheek, pulling the man’s attention towards him.

“Want to stay over?” Peter asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Though they were spent and wrapped up in each other, Peter wasn’t sure where Tony stood. There was a big difference between the type of intimacy physical touch and sleeping next to another human being required. The last few days, Peter fell asleep with Tony’s messages open on the bed next to him – actually sleeping side by side, in person, that was a whole new step for them.

Tilting his head to the side, Tony shot Peter a tender smile before nodding and leaning down to press their lips together.

“Yeah, Pete – I want to stay.”

#starker #starkerfestivalsevents #starker festivals summer bingo #bobbie writes #let me get close to #peter parker/tony stark #starker fic #sfsummerbingo21

58 notes · View notes

nottsuga · 3 years

Text

𝖐𝖎𝖒 𝖙𝖆𝖊𝖍𝖞𝖚𝖓𝖌

❏ 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔪𝔭

1:56am

2:03am

2:16am

2:17am

4:03am

9:19pm

9:22pm

9:23pm

10:58pm

11:41pm

❏ 𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔬

bf!tae

bf!tae 2.0

tipsy tae

drunk tae

drunk tae 2.0

fuckboy!tae

hosting bts

videogame date

ramenboy!tae

cuddles with tae

texts with bf tae

angry sex with tae

sex giggles with tae

tae with clumsy s/o

sucking your bf tae

tae jealous of yeontan

tae with idol s/o

sitting in tae’s lap

tae gives you a lap dance

mtl best at eating you out

s/o loving tae’s fluffy hair

tae with college student s/o

you sneak into the dorms

tae being addicted eating his s/o

tae confessing to reader in english

texts with bf tae while filming in the soop

another member walking in on you having sex

tae seeing s/o without glasses for the first time

he comes home to find you cuddling with yeontan

❏ 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔟𝔩𝔢

“stay over,”

“i miss you”

“it’s getting late”

“go back to sleep”

“wear a turtleneck”

“woah... r u ok?”

“i love you, okay?”

“i almost feel bad for you”

“i have something for you”

“i’m going to kill you”

“wow” + “you’re warm”

“just like your father”

“i dreamed of you last night”

“let me kiss your pouty lips”

“just pretend to be my date”

“oh my god, do that again”

“cant we just hug this out”

“please just kiss me already”

“i know exactly what you mean”

“am i worth less than coffee now”

“if you cant sleep... we can have sex?”

“no one has ever made me feel like this

“oops I accidentally slept with my ta”

“come on, peaches, your my only girl”

“we’re never gonna hear the end of this”

“you have no idea how much i want you rn”

“things you said with no space between us”

“i have no self control when it comes to you”

“are you fucking my sister like you fucked me?”

“that was by far the most stupidest thing you’ve ever done”

“breaking into each other’s apartment now, are we?”

“i think it’s healthy to see his parents showing affection

“i’m pretty sure we just smashed your cowboy hat”

“what i’m about to do is totally crazy but just role with it”

“my hand is freezing. It’s a shame there’s nobody willing to hold it.”

“i think we should normalize giving head to your friends as a practice”

“i’ll make out with you five minutes straight if you tell me where you’ve hid them”

“don’t flatter yourself. i would rather throw myself into oncoming traffic than kiss you, kim taehyung.”

“i know you haven’t done anything, but can you please stop looking so goddamn kissable, my parents are here.”

“what am i about to say?” + “That nothing has worked out for you since we dated, because even though the women you date are all wonderful, all you see in them is me,”

❏ 𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔱𝔰

sleep

warm

rosey

surprise

cutie pie

winter bear

exam week

amortentia

warm kisses

sexy killer

get moving

negotiations

coffeephobic

false pretense

love or inlove

morning kisses

little footsteps

slow motion

overruled

nine to five

electric love

movie night

unreasonable

secret santa

rest my love

like a peach

animal crossing

funny valentine

zoom university

persephone & hades

forever you and me

not a morning person

what a man gotta do?

fake it till you make it

stomach ache and sugar cookies

locked (a)

secret love song (a)

grapefruits & cranberries (a)

lucy (m)

teeth (m)

tease (m)

amour (m)

curtain (m)

allegro (m)

go fish (m)

dichotomy (m)

talk slow (m)

boundaries (m)

let it snow (m)

silk and skin (m)

not even close (m)

it’s complicated (m)

standard exploit (m)

gank mid lane (m)

gold rush (m)

family heals (m)

a little while (m)

girls like you (m)

kingdom come (m)

consequences (m)

secret attractions (m)

sick entertainment (m)

love isn’t science (m)

champagne & popsicles (m)

all i want for Christmas is you (m)

❏ 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰

cafe terrace at night

our secrets (m)

queen cobra (m)

unspoken rules (m)

❏ 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

bts masterlist

kth masterlist

kts masterlist

kth fic recs

bts fic recs

bts reactions

34 notes · View notes

skiimmiilk · 3 years

Text

A/N: Another long ass ride timestamp. I’ve been a little too inspired by the NCT 127 seasons greetings and the new YouTube video they posted X_X. Will this be my first full series? Who knows :”D

[7:41PM]

“Absolutely not.” Doyoung doesn’t even look up at you from his computer which he is noisily typing away at.

“Why the hell not Doyoung?” You raise your arms incredulously, “I’m not going to sit around and watch you put your life in danger all the time. Especially in the name of our trash excuse of a father.”

“But you? Joining the Underground Services?” He raised an eyebrow at you, “I’m not letting you get involved in the black market.”

“Please, you already know I’m better than half of the other useless employees in the circuit.” You roll your eyes, “I can’t just sit here and get a regular job knowing all of this.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, closing his eyes in hopes that you would stop talking, “I shouldn’t have let dad tell you about it..” He mumbles under his breath. Doyoung closes the laptop before shoving it into its holder, “This is the last time we are discussing this.”

You raise your eyebrows incredulously, letting out a scoff of disbelief. You follow him out of the office and down the hallway, “You’re kidding.”

“Don’t you get it y/n? You get a chance of a normal and safe life.” He looks at you, almost enviously, “Mom wouldn’t have wanted either of us in this business but our ‘trash excuse of a father’ left us with his position that needed to be filled.”

“Then why not both of us shoulder that burden? You don’t like it either.” You protest, hopping into the elevator.

“...I’m fine with it.” Doyoung says in a clipped voice.

“More like you tolerate it.” You mumble.

He sighs, “Fine, I tolerate it, but I don’t think you can. You already know what the black market is known for. Do you really want to put yourself at risk?”

“If it means that you don’t shoulder all the unresolved business our dad left us with, then yes.” The elevator doors opened once again and you two step out.

“Look, I appreciate it y/n. But as your brother, I literally can’t let you.”

“Smells like bullshit.” You roll your eyes.

“Then don’t stick your nose in places you don’t have business being in.” He chuckles, flicking your forehead, “Take out tonight? Or do you want me to cook?”

“Our fridge was empty last time I checked it so let’s do take out today.”

“Alright, I’ll order it. Can you pick it up and get some groceries on your way home?” He asks, flipping open his phone to answer some texts.

“Yea I guess so.” You sigh, “You’re not gonna come with?”

“I’m being called into HQ. We have a big transaction coming up so..you know.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head in disappointment. Your brother greeted the clueless workers on the floor that you walked out on. The office that your brother worked at was a set-up by the mafia group he worked with. NCT was just a highly successful electronics company in the face of the general public, but behind closed doors, they were one of the big names in the Underground Market, otherwise referred to as the UM. Your father was one of the founders of this company and a member of the Underground Services, Unit 127, so upon his death, it was natural for Doyoung, and eventually once you convinced Doyoung, you would shoulder his position. Doyoung walked you to the exit before waving goodbye to you.

“Do you have your mace y/n?” He asked and in response you dangled the neon green cylindrical device in front of him.

“All good Doie~” You teased, to which he shoved you playfully in response.

“I’m still at work y/n..” He groaned, feeling the stares of the other floor members on his back.

“Yea, yea.” You smirk, shooing off his cries of displease, “I’ll see you at home!” You turned around, shoving your hands into your pockets with a little jump in your step.

“Text me when you get home!”

“Yes MOM!” You yell back, rolling your eyes at his antics, “I swear, it’s like I’m still 2 years old in his eyes.”

You squish your arms closer to your body, feeling the bite of the winter night against your skin despite wearing a jacket. It was decently lit with a couple people walking about along the streets, probably returning home from work or getting take out like you were. As you walked down the lit path, your hairs on the back of your neck stood for a second and you turned around only to find the street empty as you left it.

Weird..I thought I heard someone.

You gripped the mace in your pocket a little tighter as you sped up your pace. You reached the outside of a plaza you and your brother usually ordered from when you widen your eyes in realization.

“The idiot never told me what or where he was ordering from.” You groan and shake your head as you whip out your phone to call Doyoung.

~Back at the Office~

“Alright boys, so we have a couple candidates for possible new members to join the unit.” Taeyong, leaned across the long conference table at his members intently, “Doyoung, pull up the files on the screen.”

“Taeyong, I don’t really get the benefit of adding someone else to the team.” Yuta leans back in his chair, clearly not pleased with the idea of a new member, “I thought we were handling things just fine here.”

“Just listen to me. We need to have fresh faces every so often in our unit to keep our enemies guessing. I have two people I’m keeping an eye on right now.” Taeyong pushed himself off the table, “Show the first candidate Doyoung.”

Doyoung stood in the corner at the podium with a laptop shining in front of him. With a couple clicks, the first profile blows up on the big screen.

“Lee Haechan. 20 years old. Agile, quick on his feet and thinks even faster. Originally associated with local low tier gangs and was known to be the best of the best when it comes to strategic fighting.” Doyoung clicks through the presentation, showing Haechan’s profile and some videos of him fighting.

“What’s stopping him from going back to those gangs?” Jaehyun asks, his chin resting on his hand in thought, “How do we know where his loyalties lie?”

“All his previous gangs are dead. No associations or ties as far as my team knows.” Doyoung answers, “He doesn’t have any other ties currently, which would rule out the idea of him betraying us for an alternative group that he’s apart of.”

“It’s like he has a curse of death following him..” Mark whispers over to Jungwoo, still not entirely convinced either. The group murmurs amongst themselves as they let the idea of Lee Haechan in their unit.

I thought there was only one candidate.. Doyoung thinks to himself as he stares at Haechan’s profile and then back at Taeyong. What are you planning..?

“Now,” Taeyong clasps his hands together as he walks across the floor, “I know your waiting anxiously in your seats to see who the second candidate is..” His eyes flicker to Doyoung briefly before, setting down a manila folder from his bag on the table, “Kim y/n.”

“What?” Doyoung raises his voice, almost dropping his laptop, “Taeyong..I never approved of this.”

“You didn’t need to. She came to me herself with the proposition.” Taeyong shrugged, flipping through your files, “She’s pretty skilled herself. Her only flaw is lack of experience in this field but she’s a quick learner and smart.”

“I’d like to keep it that way.” Doyoung walks up to Taeyong, almost getting too in his face, “Take her off the list.” He growls.

“I agree with Doyoung here.” Taeil speaks up, sitting back in his seat after looking at the file, “She doesn’t know what she’s getting into. I’m pretty sure she only knows surface level information about what we do and the risks we take. Can she handle the potential consequences that we face whenever we step on the field?”

“Thank you!” Doyoung gestures to Taeil in exasperation, “She’s not meant for this.”

“I like her ambition and her anger.” Taeyong knocks the table before leaning back from the table, looking Doyoung in the eyes, “Gentlemen, look at the screen.”

Everyone’s attention is diverted to the screen as it switches to grainy CCTV camera footage of a dark street near a small plaza. To Doyoung’s horror, you walk onto the screen, stopping at the corner before the plaza.

“Taeyong, you are overstepping the line.” Doyoung hisses, grabbing the man by the collar, “What are you doing?!”

Taeyong’s eyes lazily make its way to meet Doyoung’s furious ones, “Relax, I’m simply testing something. Just watch the film.”

~Back on the streets~

You speed dial Doyoung’s number on your phone and you place the machine to your ear, waiting for him to pick up. You look at the call screen, curious as to why he hadn’t picked up already. Usually his hyperactive ass would pick up in half a ring, but maybe he was in a meeting? Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt a dark presence behind you and your first instinct was to elbow whoever or whatever was behind you. To your surprise, you felt someone’s ribs and the sound of someone’s breath escaping their lungs registered and you immediately ducked and swung your feet at his heels. Your perpetrator, however, dodged and jumped over your legs, landing a foot away from you.

“Do you..” The stranger groans in pain, “always leave people breathless when you first meet them?” His face finally shone in the light when he lifted his face into the streetlight.

You whipped out your defensive items and clicked a button that turned a small metal tube into a long staff, “You need to fuck off right now before I turn you into shades of blue and purple.”

“Ooo~ They gave me such a feisty target. I like it.” He grins, cracking his knuckles, “I like a challenge, so let’s last more than 5 minutes please.”

“Who..” You charged at him, swinging your staff at his direction, “are you?! And who the hell do you work for?” He neatly dodged your first swing, narrowly shifting out of range of your second one.

He tsks, jumping in place a little before diving for your mid and knocking you down to the icy concrete, “Classified information, sweetheart. I just gotta bring you in.”

You curl your feet beneath his abdomen and shove him over your head as you tumble over into a crouching position. You blow a stray strand of hair out of your face, pursing your lips in annoyance. He stops his fall and lands almost gracefully on the street. You go after him again, swinging all your strength at him and like a dance, he mirrored your moves easily dodging your moves. You purse your lips, wanting to get him off your ass quickly. A nice blow to the head should do it, but he was predicting you too well.

“Alright, it was fun playing with you but I have a deadline to uphold.” His eyes change and it’s his turn to attack. He flicks out a switch blade, the light reflects into your eyes off the shiny silver coating as you barely dodge his swipe. You wince, feeling the cold air meet the fresh cut on your temple. Your senses heightened and a wash of fear came over you as you dodged and weaved his blows. The fear of getting stabbed and getting hurt scared you because you didn’t want to leave your brother alone. If you were going to get out of here, you’d have to think of something and quickly. As you dodged his blows a blinking red light caught your attention from the corner of your eye and you glanced up at it.

The cameras are never on usually. The fleeting thought came to you and you almost shook it off when realization knocked into your thoughts.

“Come on, sweetie. I don’t have all day, let’s just get on with it~” The stranger giggled as he slashed forward to you. You bumped into a trashcan, knocking it over as you dodged his blow. He quickly turned around and dashed towards you, a determined look on his face. You made no move to dodge until the very last second. His breath hitched in his throat as he crashed into the knocked over trash can, tumbling on the ground. You slammed your pole onto his wrist, making him yelp in pain and let go of his knife which you kicked away in one full swing. The stranger growled, angry now that you pulled such a trick on him, but as soon as he looked up to face you again, he was met with an obnoxious green tube and a horrible burning sensation to his eyes. He screamed in pain as he doubled over, rubbing his eyes.

You relax a little letting out a shaky breath of relief and shoving the mace back into your pocket, “Rubbing makes it worse, idiot.” You hop on top of him, securing his hands with your belt and using your weight to keep him down on the ground.

“Taeyong! If this is some kind of sick joke, I don’t really get the punchline.” You yelled out in the seemingly empty streets. You heard a vibration coming from your captive’s pocket as he squirmed around underneath you, still groaning from the burning pepper spray that he received to the face. You pulled out the sleek black device and answered the number.

“y/n~ You make for good entertainment.” You could hear Taeyong’s amusement through the line, “We ordered some food already and had it delivered, so you and Haechan can come back to the office. We need to discuss some matters.”

“What-”

“What does it look like?” He glared up at you, eyes bloodshot and wild.

“See you in five.” He hangs up and you scoff shaking your head at the dark screen. You get off of who you could only assume to be Haechan.

“Are your eyes okay yet?” You ask blankly.

“You heard Taeyong, gotta go back to the office now. You dragged him up and started walking, “The red brings out your eyes. It’s a nice look, sweetheart.” You mock his tone of voice with the previous nickname he gave you.

“The hell.. Take your damned belt off of me.” He ran to catch up to you, trying to rip the fabric.

“No-pe” You pop the P at the end of your response, “Not gonna happen. I don’t really trust you to not jump me.”

A dark car pulls up next to the two of you and flashes its headlights at you. You stop watching the passenger door window roll down to reveal Johnny in the drivers seat and a very pissed Doyoung in the passenger seat.

“Both of your asses. In the back. Now.”

“Sheesh alright.” You open the back door and climb in, Haechan following suit.

Johnny glances back at the two of you, both ruffled and battered with an amused smile, “Looking good back there two.”

You both roll your eyes and Doyoung interrupts, “I don’t want to hear it.”

You turn to Haechan and nudge him, “My name’s y/n by the way. I don’t think I got the chance to introduce myself.”

Haechan raises an eyebrow, dryly laughing at your horribly timed self-introduction, “Haechan. I would say it’s nice to meet you, but I can barely see you right now.”

“Good.”

#nct #nct127 #nctu #nct haechan #nct haechan x reader #nct timestamps #nct imagines #nct mafia au #nct haechan au #mafia au #kpop imagine #kpop timestamp

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years

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U N P L A N N E D, part two

“Hi, uh, Y/N? It’s Harry.”

You shut the bathroom door behind you like you had a few days earlier. This time, at least, you knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Hey, hi, how are you?”

“I’m good--how are you?”

You took a breath, one that might have been too obvious. “I’m good. I’m sorry to just--ramble on your voicemail. I just, you know, hadn’t heard from you.”

Did you expect to? No. Maybe. You didn’t know. You felt stupid and embarrassed that the words had tumbled out of your mouth.

“Yeah--I know, m’sorry about that. I actually, uh, got sick actually after I saw you last, so I was out of commission for a minute. Been busy but, yeah, I’d love to see you if you’re around.”

“I am, yeah, I’m around.”

Thank god--the last thing you needed was for him to let you down easy, be too nice to say that he didn’t have any interest in seeing you again. You’d prepared for that somewhat, worried that you were just another girl he’d slept with some random night, meaningless and casual.

Maybe it was that--maybe he thought that buying you a nice dinner one night would be enough to put this in the past. A pang of guilt when you realized that might never be possible.

You didn’t wait for him to offer a time or date. “Are you around this weekend?”

“Uh, yeah, I am.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t mean this in a presumptuous way, but, do you want to come to mine? I know that’s not, like, a date--but, it can be nicer to do something quiet, sometimes.”

You knew what he meant--you knew enough from Glenne to know that if he was seen out in public with you there’d be all sorts of whispers about what it was and what it meant. You didn’t tell him, but you figured somewhere private was a better place to have the conversation you had to have.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Uh, tomorrow? Sunday?”

“Tomorrow’s good--if that works.”

“Sure,” he said. “I can text you my address. Do you want to say around seven?”

“Sure. Yeah, okay. I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah, looking forward to it, Y/N, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You hung up, wiped at the sweat that had formed on your forehead, and stared in the mirror. It wasn’t terrible. It was awkward, sure, but he didn’t say no and he didn’t seem to think you were crazy or weird or totally out of line asking to see him again.

You composed a message to Lexi and Glenne.

Y/N L/N (2:31pm): I’m seeing him tomorrow.

Glenne Christiaansen (2:34pm): Thank god. I seriously felt like Jeff could tell something was up this morning.

Y/N L/N (2:35pm): Well don’t be weird with him!

Lexi MacMillan (2:37pm): Glenne if you fuck anything up so help me god.

Glenne Christiaansen (2:39pm): I’m not going to! I’m a bad liar so I would appreciate it if we could get this out in the open asap.

Lexi MacMillan (2:39pm): Glenne...not really about you 🙄

Glenne Christiaansen (2:39pm): I’m not trying to rush you, I just feel bad knowing!

Y/N L/N (2:40pm): I know. I’m telling him tomorrow.

Y/N L/N (2:41pm): He said I could come to his house. So, we’ll see. I’ll keep you updated.

It wasn’t as far of a drive as you remembered. Maybe the high levels of cortisol coursing through you sped things up, or maybe it was the adrenaline of having just hung up with your mom.

She knew something was up--she always knew. She called you in the morning and you couldn’t do it, you pretended all was fine and you told her that you were about to head to the grocery store. She didn’t really buy it but she let you go.

And when you got in the car around 6:15 and found yourself with enough traffic on Santa Monica Boulevard, the guilt started to creep in again. So you dialed her number, put the phone on speaker, and made her promise to not freak out.

She’d always been the type of mom who could keep a straight face--one who played it cool even when you told her you got detention or pricey parking ticket. She raised you by herself after she split with your dad, a guy who lived somewhere outside of Las Vegas with a new wife and a new daughter.

She was quiet when you said it. A few seconds ticked by before she spoke. Are you sure? You took a test? Who’s the father?

You know my friend Glenne? You know how her boyfriend is also in the music business?

She couldn’t believe it at first--a name she’d heard a few times on TV or even from you. She asked the inevitable: what are you going to do?

You told her you didn’t know. You swore you’d think it all through and keep her updated, talked her down and convinced her she didn’t need to drive down to LA from the sleepy town of Santa Paula, where you grew up on bicycles and with books in your small bedroom, reaching for a future that was always bigger than your small town.

So sure, maybe you had a plan. As a kid you always thought about being an adult--the steps in the following order: college, job, husband, promotion, kids. Scattered in between there was the possibility of a pet, maybe even relocating outside of the city--a house with a pool, for sure.

None of it included an unplanned pregnancy fathered by someone like him. It hadn’t ever crossed your mind.

You cried a bit more after you hung up--your mom reminded you that you didn’t have to keep a brave face for her, but after all this time, you were used to it.

So at least, when you pressed the button on the gate that somehow paged him inside, you felt a bit more confident about your ability to spit out the words without throwing up or crying. That was a win.

“Hey--it should open now,” his voice was muffled through the speaker, the gate started to hum before it separated, revealing a white house tucked in the hills, a smooth driveway and a view of the city.

He greeted you at the front door, a smile on his face when you lifted your sunglasses.

“Hi,” he said. “Find your way okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, a nod. “It vaguely felt familiar, I definitely remember drunkenly looking out the windows on the ride home.”

He laughed--apparently comfortable enough to skip over the whole awkward we slept together phase. He stepped aside and held the door open, allowing you to step into the main foyer.

That’s when it came back--laughing as you followed him up the stairs and down the hall, a drink in your hand. The view is priceless, he said. He showed you his bedroom, the twinkly lights of Los Angeles looked like snowflakes when you blurred your eyes, he joked that maybe you both drank too much.

You sat beside him on the bed, told him about the time Glenne came to visit in college and you realized that there was someone who could put Lexi in her place.

Before you knew it his hands were on your skin, your fingers fumbling with the button of his pants. You told him he didn’t have to, insecurity washed through you when you realized this type of event was probably usually reserved for models or actresses. Shouldn’t it be Lexi in your place? Someone taller and thinner and prettier and richer?

“I’d give you a tour,” he said, pulling you back to the present, “but you’ve already seen it.”

You held back a smile. “I remember it all from, you know, sneaking out in the middle of the night.”

“Right, very rude of you, really,” he smiled, crossed his arms over his chest. An awkward pause. “I would have reached out, but, I dunno--I guess I thought you didn’t want me to since you left.”

You opened your mouth to speak but then licked your lips. “No--I was just, I didn’t want to impose.”

“Well, you missed what would have been a delicious breakfast.”

Quiet for a second, you were glad he was playful, friendly, flirty, even. You knew you were about to kill any sort of mood there might be.

“Listen--uh, I actually have something to tell you.”

He tilted his head to the side, a curious smile on his face, just like when you told Glenne. He watched you, dimpled cheeks, as if you were about to admit you’d been thinking about him, wishing he’d call, hoping to see him again.

For a second you wondered if it was the right move, telling him at all. Maybe it wasn’t his problem. Maybe he’d hate you and be angry or maybe he’d think you did it on purpose, a claim to fame or a 401k cash in. Maybe you were better off navigating the waters of motherhood alone. Alternatively, maybe you took the other path. Easier for everyone, right?

But he looked too curious, too innocent, too pure. He noticed the emotion on your face, the water that had pooled in your eyes. His expression changed, furrowed brows and a twitch in his lips before you spit it out.

“I’m pregnant.”

Again. Quiet--the typical response at this point. Something you were used to. You could see a plane in the distance, on final approach to LAX. Somewhere in the world there were people laughing and hugging and somewhere there were scenes much happier than this one.

“Uh--I--,” he shook his head, blinked a few times, almost like he didn’t quite understand. “Because of us?”

A nod. You didn’t feel like divulging the same information about how there was no other possibility, especially to someone like him--someone who was surely much more sexually active than you were.

“You’re sure?”

Another nod. You reached into your purse and pulled out the papers you had printed that afternoon. The results from Dr. Weston’s office. Numbers and words you didn’t really understand. “Here--I, uh, I have these.”

He blinked again, took them in his hands and looked down at them. He licked his lips and then rubbed at his neck. “What’s all this mean?”

“It’s just the test results. I did two myself, you know, the pee on a stick ones. Then a urine sample at the doctor and a blood test, too. Four positive results.”

He was quiet, the lack of noise and words seemed to spike emotion in you, more water in your eyes became tears on your cheeks. He still stared at the paper.

A part of you wanted to turn around, leave, drive back to your house and climb into bed. Maybe then it would feel like none of this was happening. But you were frozen, feet stuck on the floor in his foyer, staring at the stubble on his chin and the necklace that hung around his neck.

A shaky breath. “I’m sorry--I was--we used a condom, I don’t know how it happened.”

He looked up at you quickly, the rawness of your voice and cracks between words seemed to grab his attention. “Will you, uh, take a test in front of me?”

That made you stop crying really quick. “W-what?” A sniffle when you wiped at your face.

“It’s just, to be sure. I don’t--sometimes people do this to people like me, and--”

“Are you insinuating that I’m--” you looked around, not even sure what to call it. “Making this up?”

“It’s not you--I would ask that of anyone.”

Your lips parted, you stared past his shoulder and into the living room.

Let me give you a tour, he’d said, dimples on his cheeks when he looked down at you that night. Sat on the edge of the couch, he stood above you, handed Lexi another drink before he introduced himself.

We’ve already met, you teased. You recounted your first meeting, jogged his memory by describing the dress you wore, the restaurant you went to. It had been six months earlier. I’m Y/N, you said. Your name brought it all back for him.

Back in the room, he shifted his weight on his feet. You thought on it for a second. You’d expected him to be shocked and surprised--even angry or disinterested would have been understandable. You didn’t, for a second, think that he might not believe you.

It made sense, as much as you hated to admit it. You were sure that somewhere out there was a person who would make this type of thing up--news outlets covered stories like that all the time.

But this--the upheaval of everything you’d come to know--you wished you were making it up. You weren’t someone he met in some hotel bar with something to gain. You were a friend of a friend, wrong place, wrong time.

“Look--someone will make us do that anyway. Jeff or someone would insist that I have more proof. And I can’t just tell them I took your word for it.”

Another reminder of the distance between you. The fact that Harry drove a Tesla and you had a Honda. The fact that now they were his friends and you were the outsider--the one screwing it all up. And now your friends had to choose sides, and apparently, Jeff was already on Harry’s before he even knew about it.

“I mean--fine, I can show you the two I already took. I’ll take another, and you can see it, if you want.”

He nodded. “Yeah, m’sorry, that’s just probably for the best.”

He offered to drive--promised your car would be safe in his driveway until you could come back for it. So you endured the nearly forty minute drive back to your house in quasi-silence, save for the voices from the radio that didn’t break the tension.

He asked about work, you pretended to be interested in the upcoming release of his music. But the long pauses and sideways glances made it feel like you both knew the questions were obligatory and forced and surface, a lazy attempt at ignoring the obvious.

You pointed out a spot for him to park near the sidewalk, beneath the willow tree across the street that always left pollen on your windshield. He followed you across the road, up to the front door in your snug residential neighborhood.

“Hi,” you called into the living room, knowing that Lexi had the day off from filming. With your luck at this point, she’d probably be naked (or halfway there) in the kitchen. High as a kite or asleep on the couch.

“Hey! How’d it--oh.”

She appeared from her bedroom, eyes wide when she took in the sight of Harry trailing behind you. You ignored the flush on his cheeks and the shy smile he threw in her direction.

It must have hit him--Lexi knew. Lexi--who Harry had known for at least three or four years now--offered a wave in his direction and tried to play it cool.

“Hi Lexi.”

“He wants me to pee on a stick again,” you said flatly.

She pulled her head back, a smirk on her face when she turned to Harry. “Really?”

He let out a sigh and shrugged his shoulders. “Do you want to know what could happen if I believed every woman who’s ever said that to me?”

“There’s been multiple?” Lexi looked at him like he was crazy.

“Well--like, two. But they were both absolutely mental.”

You walked into the bathroom and knelt down, digging through the cabinet below the sink for another test. After you took the first you bought another box--two inside.

You grabbed it and stood, going to shut the door. “Well, I’ll be back.”

“Wait,” he said, shoving his hands in the pocket of his pants. “Can I--uh--come in?”

Lexi’s face twisted. “You wanna watch?”

“Well, how do I know that you’re not pregnant and she’s using your, you know, sample?”

Lexi looked over at you and raised her eyebrows, some type of this is unreal look on her face.

“Fine,” you said, defeated. “Come over here.”

He stepped into the bathroom beside you and offered an uncomfortable smile, squeezing by you when you shut the door. He sat on the edge of the bathtub and stared at his hands. You pulled down your pants, sat, and then waited.

He looked up quickly, then back down at the floor. Then back up. “Well--are you gonna go?”

“I need a second,” you said. “I’m not used to peeing in front of strangers.”

“M’not a stranger,” he made a face as if it hurt his feelings. You weren’t about to fight with him--now didn’t seem like a good time to define the relationship. “Here,” he reached up to twist the faucet, a stream of water fell into the sink.

That helped. You held the stick in place and capped it when you were done, placing it on the sink. You flushed and stood up as if this was all in a day’s work.

“Now we wait?”

You leaned forward to wash your hands. “Doesn’t take long--apparently I’m super pregnant.”

He let out a bit of a laugh at that, a tension breaking chuckle before he picked it up. He pushed out his lips, staring down at it as if it wasn’t as threatening as you’d always felt.

“Plus sign,” he flipped it towards you, offering you a view.

You nodded.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

He was quiet, staring at the plastic in his hands before he put it back down.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “We used a condom.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to--we didn’t mean to. Aren’t you on birth control?”

You nodded. “I was switching to a new one around then--but my doctor said it should be just as effective,” the anxiety grew with each word, the scenarios ran through your head, what you could have done differently, if you should have left right after, cursing yourself for enjoying the sex even though it resulted in this.

“I don’t know what to do,” you said, wiping at your cheeks to hide the evidence of the tears. You hardly knew him--crying in what suddenly felt like the world’s smallest bathroom didn’t seem like a great get to know you exercise.

He seemed alarmed by the emotion again, a look of uncertainty crossed his face. “Me neither--I mean, I’m supposed to put out this album and then go on tour and I’ve never--”

A knock on the door, Lexi pushed it open, an inquisitive look on her face. “Everything okay?”

“No,” you both spoke at the same time.

“Oh good,” Lexi said sarcastically to him, “you’re losing your shit over it too!”

“S’not exactly the best timing, right now, Lexi.” He stepped past you on the white tile, slipping out of the bathroom and making his way for the living room.

You followed behind him. “It’s not good timing for me either, if you were wondering!”

He turned around quickly. “I know--I didn’t mean it like that, I just--you’ve had a few days to sit with this, right? M’just finding out now so excuse the panic.”

You took a breath, watched as he paced on the carpet and ran a hand through his hair. He stopped suddenly, looked up to Lexi.

“Does Glenne know?”

She looked over to you, your call, Harry did the same.

“Great--so Jeff knows! Is that why he hasn’t returned my phone calls?”

“Jeff doesn’t know,” you said quickly. “She promised not to tell him until I talked to you.”

“And you believed her?! She can have quite the mouth, for fuck’s sake!”

“She didn’t say anything, relax,” Lexi tried to settle him, her voice more collected than yours had been all week. “I talked to her a while ago. She’s freaking out, too.”

He flopped down on the couch, a big sigh before he looked up at you again. “Are you--do you want to keep it?”

“I don’t know.”

He nodded, almost like he expected the answer.

“I wanted to talk to you first.”

He nodded again, eyes still wide. “Okay.”

“Can you just breathe, with me, for a second?” You moved to sit beside him, body angled towards his so he could watch you. In and out, in and out.

It already felt like you were ruining his life, the last thing you needed was for him to have a heart attack on your sofa.

He settled a bit at that, another nod to reassure you that he was getting enough air. “Sorry--I just, this is big.”

“I know,” you said. “For me too.”

“Yeah.”

Lexi was still stood in the center of the room, watching the scene unfold. When you looked up at her, she tilted her head. “I was gonna order a pizza--are you guys hungry?”

When Harry left the house that night he promised he’d see you the next day. Not only did you need your car, but you figured it’d be easier to actually talk some things through after a good night of sleep and some time to think.

There was a part of you that wondered if he’d actually follow through--show up at your house at 10am like he said he would. Maybe he’d catch the soonest flight back to London and change his number, barring Jeff and Glenne from ever speaking to you again.

The pizza was a good call on Lexi’s part. It turned out that when he had some food in him, he was remarkably less anxious. See? You’ll be fine. He’s just like a toddler! Lexi teased after he left.

She sat on your bed with you that night and just listened. First you told her about the way he looked when you first said it, the blinking and the staring and the shuffling of his feet. Then about the car ride and the radio and the way you pretended that you didn’t notice how often he tried to look over at you on the freeway.

You had no idea where he was at--you had no idea what he was thinking or what type of person he was. He was a stranger, really, someone who sometimes happened to run in the same circle as you and someone who now had a good reason to never want to see you again.

Lexi said she was glad that he wanted to talk again in the morning, glad that he knew and agreed that it would be best for him to tell Jeff in a few days, once the two of you had more time to talk.

You were glad, too.

“I think he’s here,” she peered out the window, the Saturday sun fought its way through early morning fog.

Your phone started buzzing in your hand--a call, not a text. You answered it. “Hello?”

“Hey--s’me. I’m outside.”

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll be right out.”

“Don’t be too long,” Lexi said, watching as you reached for the denim jacket on the back of the door. “Are we still watching SNL tonight?”

“Yeah--yeah, we will.”

“Okay,” she seemed to eye you suspiciously. “Call me if he’s being a fucking asshole, okay?”

“Okay.”

She waved you out the door, watched as you climbed inside the dark black car that was parked at the end of the walkway.

“Hi--oh, hi,” the seatbelt seemed to lurch forward on it’s own, making it easier to grab hold of once you sat down. “Glenne’s doesn’t do this.”

“S’the newer model.”

Of course it was.

“Are you hungry? I know you need your car, but I figured we could grab something to eat.”

You nodded, pushing sunglasses down to cover your eyes. “Sure, yeah.”

He accelerated, the car whirred, electric, and he adjusted a few buttons in the front. “Are you feeling alright?”

“What do you mean?”

He stole another sideways glance in your direction. “Like--you’re not nauseous yet, are you?”

“Oh--” you stopped to think about it. “No. But food tastes funny--kind of metallic, almost? I don’t know if that’s related. I’m only four weeks at this point, that’s what the email from Dr. Weston said.”

“Dr. Weston?”

“My OBGYN.”

“Right. When did you see her?”

“Wednesday.”

A left turn out of your neighborhood. You’d caught him up on all of that the night before. The appointment, telling your mom--he listened with wide eyes, pizza in hand.

“When do you go again?”

“Next week. She said we can talk about options.”

“Oh--should I, maybe, come to that?”

You hadn’t thought about that. It certainly was too early to do an ultrasound, you figured the appointment was a nice way for Dr. Weston to let you know the options for termination, if that’s what you wanted. A shift in your seat, a nervousness when you looked over at him. “If you want, yeah.”

He nodded, quiet for a little as he drove. He was heading for closer to Santa Monica, you didn’t ask where and you figured it didn’t matter. Breakfast sounded nice.

He eventually turned into a parking lot for a small cafe--one that you heard Jeff mention in the past--with ivy running up the outside trellis that provided some patio shade from the mid-May sun. “The scones here are really good.”

You tried not to laugh. “Scones are probably the worst breakfast pastry.”

“What?” His voice went all high as if you’d said something truly offensive. He pulled out his chair and sat, a casual outfit of athletic shorts and a sweatshirt. Sunglasses--presumably for disguise.

“Yeah,” you said, a bored shrug. “Too dry. Muffins are much better.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he looked over the menu that the hostess had dropped off, took a sip of his water before looking up at you.

“Look, I want to just tell you I’m sorry for freaking out last night. I know this isn’t easy for you, either.”

You nodded. “It’s not ideal for either of us, I guess.”

He nodded. Fumbled with the straw wrapped between his fingers. “What are your thoughts on--” he paused, seemingly uncomfortable. “Ending it?”

You shrugged, feeling mostly disconnected from whatever bundle of cells had implanted on your uterine lining. “I don’t know--it would probably be easier.”

He watched you, an unreadable look on his face. He rubbed at his lips and nodded. “You don’t have to. That’s a big decision. I just didn’t know what your thoughts were--in general.”

“I don’t really know what they are. What are yours?”

He laughed a little. “I don’t know. I’ve never had to think much about it.”

The waitress appeared, a look of shock when he smiled up at her, the realization spread over her face before she scribbled down your orders.

Pink on his cheeks when she left. “Sorry.”

You smiled. “I’m surprised you can be in the sunlight without people following you around.”

He rolled his eyes, let out a playful sigh. “Some days are better than others. This spot is typically safe, though.”

The waitress came back quick with coffees--you were sure to not confuse her eagerness to be near him as prompt service.

“So--who have you told, again?”

“Just Lexi and Glenne. And my mom.”

“No one else?”

“No. Have you told anyone?”

He pushed the tiny boat of coffee creamer towards you. “No. I just went to bed last night and tried to sleep.”

Another wave of guilt. You were sure he had better things to do than stare at the ceiling thinking about abortion or full term or the possibility that something would go wrong.

“They say you’re not supposed to tell people, you know--before it’s too soon.”

“Right, what is it? Three months?”

“Yeah--twelve weeks. That’s when something is likely to happen. But, look--I get it, if you can’t do this. No matter what I end up doing, I won’t be mad if you’re not able to be around.”

The words came out more quickly than you expected, as if saying them would prevent the damage from spreading. Like a bandaid, pulled off quickly, you placed the proposition on the table.

He made a face at that, looked down, twisted the rings on his fingers and then sighed. “I wouldn’t do that--I don’t want to.”

“Yeah, but, come on. I mean--you’re busy and this doesn’t really align with your lifestyle.”

He quirked an eyebrow, almost challenging you with a smirk. “And what do you know about my lifestyle?”

You picked up a spoon and stirred the coffee in front of you. “Well--I don’t know. I just, I don’t want you to feel like this means you’re, you know, trapped.”

He nodded, thinking. He licked his lips and pushed his mouth to one side. “I appreciate that.”

He asked where you were when you found out. You told him about the tiled floor of the bathroom at work, the way it cooled your hot skin when you were sure you’d pass out. You told him about the second test, the one you’d taken at home with Lexi, and the ice cream cone you had after you went to the doctor.

He asked where you were from, said he’d never heard of Santa Paula. He told you that he had fun with you that night, said that he thought about calling you after you left, decided he didn’t want to scare you off.

He drove you back to his house and pointed out the window, showing you a hiking trail nearby that he liked. He laughed when you made a joke--strapping a ten pound baby to your chest would level up any workout.

So you got your car and left, he didn’t hug you goodbye in the driveway and he said he’d call you--right after he figured out what he was going to tell his parents and his manager. You were about to the shut the door of your Honda when he jogged over to the driver’s side window.

“When was that appointment again? With Dr. Westfield?”

“Weston,” you corrected. “Thursday, 4pm, I think.”

He nodded, his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. “Okay--I’ll come.”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

author’s note: woohooo! alright, well, there’s that!!!! so excited to share the rest with you all!

tag list: @stepping-into-the-light @thurhomish @afterstylesmadeit @iconicharry @stylesfics-xx @harryspirate @mellamolayla @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfantasy @clorenafila @mell-love @anssu-amry @yelllowgrass @bullseyeskay @littlesoldierelleora @styles217 @rachkon @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @myhat @rosegoldbel @passionate-dreamerr @grammyforstyles @dontgiveupthedayjob @ursamajor603 @craic-head-horan @heavenspidey @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @blackxxmagicc @winter-soldier-007 @ssllbb @wanderlustiing @jdcharliewhiskey

#unplanned #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles story #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles drabble #one direction fan fiction #1dff

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carmichealroyals · 3 years

Photo

SILVER CREEK CHURCH, DAVEN PROVINCE, 2:41PM

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Natalie: Thea, wait--

Dorothea: No, I’m done waiting for you.

Natalie: Thea, please, we can talk about this--

Dorothea: I think you’ve already talked about it plenty, Nat.

Natalie: Please, Thea, I have my reasons, would you just stop--

Dorothea: I said I’m done, Natalie! Why can’t you get your head around that? Do you know how hard it is for me to watch you cozy up to him, pretending that you love him, having him on your arm for all these events while I’m either your younger brother’s date or your “close friend”? It’s breaking my heart! I want to be able to hold your hand in public, I want to be able to kiss you in the street, but because of you and your damn pride--

Natalie: It’s not pride.

Dorothea: Then what is it? Please, Your Highness, enlighten me as to what is keeping you from coming out to your family when Oliver has already done it and hasn’t suffered any serious repercussions from it aside from a bruised ego! You don’t love him, you never have, it’s been a relationship of convenience just as much for you as it has been for him! So why put yourself through the torture of being married to him when you’ve been lying to him this entire time?!

Natalie: It’s fear, okay?! Yes, Oliver came out and he was fine, but there’s going to be a double standard for me because I’m a girl, because I’m bi and that’s more excusable as a phase than being gay, because we haven’t been seen together so people can question the validity of it until they get the proof they want! My brother could have had a major scandal with his name on it and married to avoid it. Emmy is getting married, Mattheus has been spending more and more time in Winchester, Hugo is serious about his girlfriend, Giselle is marrying a Crown Prince for goodness sake! I’m the only one left besides Alexander, but he’s so young that it doesn’t matter what he does, and it wouldn’t anyway because he’s a Prince, not a Princess, and he’s allowed to date around, but if I date more than one person it’s all over the newspapers! As far as they’re concerned, as far as my family is concerned, I’m next on the chopping block, and I have to make this choice before it’s too late.

Dorothea: And what choice is that? Either continue lying to everyone in your life, including yourself, or being yourself and risk what, a slap on the wrist from your family?

Natalie: It’s more complicated than that, and you know it. You think this doesn’t hurt me too? Do you realize how hard it was for me to not reach over and hold your hand even for a second during that ceremony? If I had it my way, we’d call the priest back in here and marry right now! But we can’t. And you know we can’t.

Dorothea: I heard things, rumours about how he treated the Monacan princess. He was terrible to her. That’s why the family relocated, because he was threatened into being exposed for what he’d done if they didn’t. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, Natalie. I love you so much it hurts, and if he laid a finger on you that he isn’t supposed to, I…

Natalie: I won’t let him. I’m the one elevating him. He might be bigger and stronger than me, but I hold the political power. If he’s smart, he won’t try anything, and if he does, I go to my uncle. I know you want to try and protect me Thea, but you don’t need to. I can take care of myself.

Dorothea: I just want to be with you. I’m tired of hiding and pretending I don’t care about you. It’s like being back in the closet all over again, and I promised myself I would never do that.

Natalie: I know. And I’m sorry I’ve put you through all this. But I promise you, it is all for our future benefit. You own my heart, Dorothea. It’s always been you, and I was a fool to think otherwise for so long. I promise, we’ll figure something out. It will be us at the end of this. I’ll make sure of it.

Dorothea: You’re sure about this?

Natalie: No. But I don’t have a choice. Just… trust me, okay?

Dorothea: I do, Natalie. I do.

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mimithings97 · 4 years

Text

7:41pm Pt.2 (M)

FuckBuddy Tae wanting a taste of you early in the morning

Warnings: SMUTTTTTT. Tae just wants to lick you all over. Like SPIT!

A/N: Follow on from the 7:41 FuckBuddy Tae with the spitting kink. Same Y/N but can be stand alone’s if you want. Again, zero excuses as to the dirt I’m spewing. Actually black swan Taehyung is my excuse, he needs to STOP.

Taehyung’s adamant he drew the short straw last night. You called him over, all sultry and seductive with the pictures on snapchat to match, but followed through with a mere one round. Call him selfish, but his mum always taught him to be an overachiever and, fighting his way through the cold on a Tuesday evening for a one pump chump kind of booty call, left space for selfishness.

It’s why he wakes up hornier than usual. Or maybe it’s your warmth next to him and the feeling of your dip in the side of the bed. Or maybe how the sheets are cast far away from your body because you can’t stand the summer heat, so you’re in all your naked glory. Either or, his boxers are tight and he doesn’t even need to feel himself up to get to full mast.

Your smell is all over him from last night, as well. The pillow he nestles into whilst still in the thrones of sleep is too. He follows it until he meets the source. Your hair, graceful in its splay, and lit with morning sunlight from blinds left untouched. He’s no romantic, and neither of you are relationship material for one another, but you look like a home he can get lost in right now.

His idea of such intimacy, however, doesn’t come in the form of soft spoken pillowtalk or light trailing touches across your hip. He will admit his fingers do twitch at the thought, though. His lips seek you instead. An overwhelming desire to taste you and taste you again. That damn smell. And your damn nakedness.

It has him lapping at the junction of your neck which you normally crawl into because you’re ticklish like that. But you merely stir, still lulled in sleep by the ambient noises projected from the slit where you left your window open. So he takes his share. Tasting from neck to shoulder. From shoulder to ear. The occasional nip of his teeth at skin just so he can confirm to himself that you’re real, wholesome and so fucking soft.

Soft enough that he keeps his touch light when he decides his hands destination is your pussy. Maybe with a quick detour so he can pinch at your nipples. They’re hard. Been exposed to the light chill of having no covers or protection for quite some time. His mouth has to busy itself at your ear so he doesn’t succumb to the desire to suck one nipple harshly and play with the other harsher.

“Taee.” It’s a whine. An impatient one though that tells him you’re not to be roused from your slumber.

“Shhh, just let me.” But he’ll persist.

He cups where you’re bare and warm, wet also, because maybe he insisted you went to sleep stuffed full like a chistmas turkey, but he’s all the more happy, now, that he did. He gets the lubrication he needs to tickle around your clit in perfect cirles - almost a game to see when he slips up. He’ll know because you’ll whine.

The sheets crumple under him as he shuffles into your back, skin to skin, and his boxers, under the strain of where he’s stiff, find a home between your cheeks. He’s sensitive. So damn sensitive from a pent up night that he moans a lick up the side of your neck. Wet. A path of saliva he’s happy about.

“Urgh, sleeping Tae, just get yourself off without waking me up.”

He doesn’t care that there’s no romance, no intimacy in your tone. Not when he’s got a handful of your pussy and a cockful of your bare ass.

“Kiss me first.” Yet he’s selfish and in dire need of your lips. It’s the taste.

“Kiss my fucking ass, you bitch, I’m sleeping, already told you.”

But the way you rock into him a little, lay a claim on his boner by moving back and forth, has him smirking. It’s hot when you’re all denial in your words, but your body. just. can’t. help. itself.

“I’ll kiss your ass if you ask nicely. Promise.” He means it. He promises he’ll duck under covers just for a taste of your hole. His insides tighten at the thought. And he thrusts, just a little, but enough he’s biting your neck again.

He hears you laugh, and then suck in a little too much air to still find the humour of it all. Not when he slips his thumb shallow into your pussy.

“Wet little cunt.” It’s deaf on your ears, he knows, but he’s not here to sweet talk you into submission because he knows you’ll give out anyway. No, he narrates for his own purpose.

You groan out when he sinks his thumb further and he swallows his own moan down into your jaw. “Talk shit about being asleep but your cunts beggin’ to be filled.”

He’s so damn dirty. Horny and filthy. It has you being chipped away bit by bit as the sleep on you fades and his boner digs in a bit deeper.

“If only you’d keep up on your promises.” You’ve lent into the way he laps at your throat, now, and Taehyung knows he’s stolen you from where you were hiding. You’re his for the taking if he plays his cards right.

“I could, yeh. But where’s the fun in that, baby.”

He’s played the perfect hand it turns out, luring you through words and the push and pull at all of your sensitive spots so that you’re fastening a grip on his hard on and steering it in line with where you gush.

Taehyung’s very in tune to your incentive. Perhaps all too quick to jump on the train because his thumb leaves you gaping just as quick as he’s got a cockful of that same hole.

“Urgh, I hate you.”

Keep saying that, is all he thinks. It does wonders for his ego having a girl too much of a slut for him that her words can’t keep up with her body. And your body’s writhing all over him.

“Yessss. Wet. Deep. Fuckk.” He’ll make home in your pussy because it’s that damn tight. Tight enough he becomes senile every time. “Could fuck you all day, jesus.” And spouts the most shit.

“At this speed, yeh, christ Tae.” You’re having a dig, as per usual, and he’s not going to let it be one of those rare occasions where you’re allowed to run your mouth. Not when he’s this horny and wanting to have you just ‘shut the fuck up’ unless it’s his name on your breath.

So he resolves the matter. Finding pleasure in how you’re silenced when he gets a good grip on your throat, and buck back into one of his thrusts also.

The sun is high enough in it’s morning glory that he gets a good sight of the pleasure written on your face, mouth agape and struggling for air and your breast spilling from left to right as he puts your cunt through its paces.

“Fucking kiss me.” Is what he thinks out loud. And you have no choice but to oblige. But it’s no kiss, not the conventional kind anyway. It’s Taehyung with a filthy tongue that paints the outside of your mouth and occasionally catches between your lips.

He picks up his pace when you moan at how he licks from one corner of your face to the other. He just wants to be all over you. Call him an animal, but he can’t help that he’s some kind of primitive when he’s this deep in you.

“I want to cum in you.” He spells out. Desperate and wholesome. “Really deep in you, baby.”

Shit. It’s a name for you that is only dragged out of the locker if he’s really struggling to keep tabs on his sanity. You’d claimed the first time he used it, it wasn’t degrading enough, so he opted for other routes. But there’s a few times where he’s too damn lost at the sight of you sucking him in whole, or tasting you deeply that he finds himself calling out for you with zeal.

“Yeah? Please.”

Urgh, ‘please’. He’s a sucker for the silk you speak.

“Tell me how much you need it, baby.”

Your eyes are at their whites now that he’s heading home, fast and hard and without reserve.

“Fucking neeedd it Tae. All of it.”

“Shitting hell, yeah you do, slut.” And with his new found pace, a pile drive reaching up into your throat, you’re loud.

“Pleaseee.” He lodges two fingers into your mouth for the sake of how fucked out he is. It’s probably a possession kind of thing. To have him in every part of you. He unconsciously makes you choke, too.

“Fuck, tighten like that again and I’ll cum.”

You gargle.

“Open your eyes baby. Look at me, fuck,” and you do it, but barely, with the need to shut your eyes tight and just take the orgasm in it’s load, fighting at you. But you obey. He watches your eyes glisten and mouth drool as you follow the darkening of his gaze.

You scream from somewhere under his fingers as he tightens his hold so you’re flush against him.

Quick, sharp hits, deep into you and your cervix.

It has you so fucking undone, and he knows because you cry. Eyes pooling and drowning at the strain of watching him follow.

“Fucking hell, Y/N, oh my god,” he’s shocked at the power that overtakes him, “oh m- holy fucking shittt.”

He can’t help when he sticks his tongue down your throat as he cums at the same time, juttering messily both with his hips and tongue.

It’s so damn hard. A band snapping somewhere. A fire down to his toes. The fucking visual of you crying and quaking even though it’s the first thing in the morning.

In the tresses of his orgasming state he kisses you wholly.

“You’re amazing, fuck. All day. Want this all day.”

“Mmm,” he’s deaf and probably rightly so, because he doesn’t want to know whether you’ve reciprocated his drunken incentive. A lustful exploration of the boundaries of whatever the fuck you two are. But you seem unabashed, at least, still quivering, and lapping at his tongue as he does yours.

Always so damn messy.

“Cumslut.”

His head spins.

“Says the guy who can’t get his fucking fill. It’s 7 in the damn morning, Tae.” True.

“You provide your pussy, who am I to say ‘no’?” Also true.

You draw yourself away so his dick falls flaccid onto the mattress, a sad awakening to the day, especially when you look as though you’re headed straight back to sleep.

But, instead, he’s left a little wordless when you’re turned, naked again, with the sheet kicked away, and grabbing at the skin of his back so he’s drawn closer. An intimate kind of closer. He thinks maybe he should out you.

But you beat him to it.

“Hmmm, I’m amazing aren’t I? You could fuck this pussy all day yeh? All yours apparently.”

It’s his words spouted back to him, carelessly. But now he knows you noticed him drunk on your sex, he might just be blushing.

#ive lost all dignity #filthy tae #bts smut #taehyung smut #kim taehyung #bts taehyung #bts taehyung smut #7:41pm #kim taehyung smut #taehyung things

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kosmosguk · 4 years

Text

You. Me. Us| Yandere Jimin x Reader

[Summary: The handsome guy you meet briefly in a bookstore is intent on intertwining his fate with yours, although his methods themselves are unorthodox. After all, he’s intent on his belief that in the end, it’s you. Him. And the word Us. And it doesn’t matter how he gets to the ending he deserves.]

Type: Horror/Thriller fic

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, masturbation, voyeurism with no consent from one party, brief mentions of alcohol, near-death experience, obsessive behaviors painted as normal

A/N: based on the tv show You, so credit goes to the show and its producers! I didn’t vibe with the second season that came out yesterday so I decided to write a fic based on the first season but with a different ending. This is the first part, and if it goes well, I’ll update other parts!

December 27, 4:33PM

He had met you on that day, a cold gray day in the unforgiving city of Seoul. Two days after Christmas, Jimin remembers how frigid the city was as the warmth of the holiday season seeped away. He remembers every detail about that afternoon, that meeting; hell, he remembers every detail about you.

You’re soulmates. Lovers cast by the stars of the universe and molded with brushings of stardust. It’s inevitable that he had seen you, that he had met you.

Pretty, with wide eyes shadowed by long, curled lashes. Rosy lips arched in a pleasant curve. A scarf--he remembers the color: crimson, like blood roses--loosely circled around your delicate neck. You, you were perfect.

"Hey," you had called to him. Had spoken to him. Did he even deserve to be witnessing you, the you that glowed in this worn down bookstore in Seoul?

"Hello?" he heard you speak again, like cold water splashing on him, and he blinked his vision clear.

You smiled gently, a little shyly as you met his gaze. "Is this book any good?"

He cleared his throat, flitting his gaze to the worn book you had in hand. "Yes. Victor Hugo, a classic. Although it gets a little tedious sometimes to read, it's amazing to see how major issues from the 19th century can still be applicable to modern times. That and the way he manages to describe societal anguish in a poetic manner leaves a feeling of satisfaction."

His voice trailed off. Shit, he did it again; he talked on and on about something that people as pretty as you most likely didn't care about. You must be bored, must see him as boring.

But instead, your smile grew just a little bit bigger. "This sounds interesting. I'll take it."

And Jimin felt his heart speed up a little bit more. This, you, him. It must be destined.

December 27, 8:41PM

You're a writer. He can't help but notice the bundles of paper delicately clipped together in your bag when you open it to find your wallet.

And he also can't help it when he catches your name when you answer a call. It seems that he can't help a lot of things when it comes to you.

He looks you up on social media first. Instagram. Facebook. Snapchat. Twitter. Hell, even Tumblr. It's advantageous for him that you use the same username for each social media platform.

Spending some time with friends to take my mind off of writer's block. The caption follows a shot of drinks, glistening in the low light of a bar, lined up on a table. There are three people tagged. He makes a mental note to look at their profiles later.

Wishing I was back in the sun. It's a shot of you in a bikini, lying underneath the golden sun. He can't help but feel a little jealous that all of these people--218 according to the likes on your post--get to witness your body like this. But it's okay, he tells himself. This was posted months ago, long before you met him, someone who looks past superficial aspects.

He scrolls until his thumbs grow tired. As he turns off his laptop, he can't help but feel a little disappointed that you haven't posted anything, not even a short hinting tweet, about the cute guy you met at a bookstore.

He remembers your latest tweet, posted 2 minutes ago. You're at a bar celebrating your friend's birthday. He decides that a peek or two won't do any harm. Besides, he's only there to make sure you're safe.

His cap is pressed over gray-dyed hair, and he's in clothes that will allow him to blend into the crowd. A girl sidles up to him, resting her hand on his shoulder flirtatiously. He shrugs it off; she's not you after all. The girl, obviously more than a little tipsy, gets up and stumbles away.

He sits in a place that allows him to see and hear you, but he's not too close so that you can see him.

"Minyoung! Happy birthday!" he can hear your voice, high-pitched and bubbly. It's a lot different from the voice you had used in the bookstore. He can't help but feel just a little prideful that he knows the real you more than your supposed friends do.

He remembers Minyoung from her Instagram profile. Minyoung herself, with 2K followers, is pretty with a straight small nose and cropped hair dyed neon green, but in a phony way that leaves him swallowing bile. She doesn't deserve you, and she especially doesn't deserve the expensive gift. You'll be lucky to get something a quarter as expensive for your birthday; he knows your friends almost as well as he knows you. And he also knows that they don't deserve you.

"Bitch, you didn't!" Minyoung tears through your delicate wrapping with sharp and long acrylic nails. Jimin can't help but wince from his seat.

"She did! Flexing on us, huh, babe," your next friend he recalls is named Ji-Ah. She's the kind of phony pretty that Minyoung is too, with long brown curls and glossy lips. Jimin thinks he hates her almost as much as he hates Minyoung.

You smile, though he notices how it's just a little strained, and he feels anger as he watches Miyoung toss your gift on the table without even as much as a thank you. Fuck Ji-Ah, Jimin doesn't think he hates anyone as much as he hates Minyoung.

Your gift, one you poured care in, cast aside. You are an angel. Your "friends" don't deserve to be in your presence, let alone receive a gift from you. Jimin's clenches his hands, and when he relaxes them, there are crescent-shaped indents, drops of blood smeared on pale skin.

"Come on, let's move to a club! This bar is so fucking boring," Minyoung coos after she’s done opening her gifts.

You shake your head. "I have to work early tomorrow and a manuscript to write. I’m so sorry, but have a fun time without me!"

"Boo! Don't be a boring bitch," Ji-Ah sticks her tongue out as she gets up and walks off with Minyoung.

It only leaves you and your last friend. Haeun looks the least fake of your friends, but Jimin knows that she's the same level as them. Rich. Fake. Obnoxious. Only using you.

"(Y/N), why did you buy that for her? You know you can't afford it. Minyoung doesn't deserve that at all. Next time, if you need money, just ask me," Haeun pushes her long black hair fixed in a high ponytail off her shoulder as she gets up to leave. You just force a smile as Haeun sidles away. The smile drops when none of your friends can see you anymore.

Condescending isn't she. You really know how to pick your friends.

You take the nearest glass of alcohol and pour it back rapidly. When you've swallowed it all and wiped your mouth, you pull on your jacket and leave the bar. Jimin follows behind you, your silent protector in a bitterly empty world.

You wander into the train station. A nearby drunkard tries to accost you, and Jimin makes a move towards you. You manage to fend the drunkard off before Jimin can be your hero, but your phone slips out of your already shaky grip and falls onto the tracks.

You stumble into the tracks. Jimin rushes towards you. You grab your phone and stand up as the train whistles begin to grow nearer, and Jimin watches as your eyes blow wide, frantic as tears drip down your cheeks.

"Take my hand!" he yells over the sound of the train. You look up, your eyes bleary, and grab his hand. He hoists you up as the lights of the train glow brighter.

"Um," you manage to sputter as you try to grab ahold of yourself," Thank you."

Your hazy eyes focus on Jimin and clear a little. "Oh! Bookstore guy!"

You look adorable like this, hair slightly messy and lips parted in confusion. Jimin's heart tugs a little. God, he's already fallen for you so deep.

That moment fades as your cheeks puff a little, and you vomit over his shoes and the bottom of his pants.

He finds himself in a taxi cab, his shoes in a plastic bag next to him, as you snore softly by his side, having passed out after telling him your address. He catches sight of your phone, the case dirty from its fall into the tracks.

You won't mind if he just...peeks, do you? He acts before he can think, grabbing your phone and fiddling around with it. Perfect, now he'll be able to watch everything you do on it. He feels a little guilty, but the train incident proves that you need him just as much as he needs you. He sets the phone back down next to you. It looks like nothing has happened, but Jimin knows better.

The taxi rolls to a stop in front of an apartment building. He reaches out to nudge you awake, but you're already blinking glossy eyes open before he can.

"Thank you," you say before your mouth falls open," Oh my God, I threw up on you. I threw up on you; that's so fucking embarrassing! Here, uh, my phone number is XXX-XXX-XXXX. Call me, and I'll, um, get you new shoes."

"It's fine, really. These shoes were getting old anyway, and I needed a new pair of shoes soon. How about a drink instead?" Jimin beams in a way that has swooned the hearts of many, crinkling his eyes into upside-down crescents. You smile back at him as you get out.

"Sounds good! Just text me when!"

The taxi door shuts behind you. Jimin is left temporarily breathless. Just like he thought, you’re meant to be together.

When you get into your apartment and look back out, the taxi is gone. You can't help but feel a little guilty that you hadn't done much for your savior after he had done so much for you.

A knock bangs on your door, and you look at who it is.

"God, leave me fucking alone, Seojun," you spit out, sliding open the door. Seojun’s standing there, his body swaying slightly; he can barely stand straight.

"I'm sorry, babe! I swear to God nothing happened with me and her," your ex-boyfriend sputters out. He smells of booze; you’re not surprised.

"So you tripped and your dick somehow managed to land in her mouth; don't be a fucking lying cunt, Choi," you bristle, making a move to slam the door.

"Baby, baby, listen to me," Seojun steps in closer before you can, sliding his hands onto the curve of your waist," She didn't mean anything. I've missed you. I’ve missed the way you feel, baby. My cock misses the way you squeeze down on me. Aren’t you lonely, baby?’’

You hesitate before pushing him off of you and slamming the door shut on him. "God, don’t fucking talk to me anymore. Just leave me alone, Choi. Don't come back."

You hear boots scraping against the pavement as he walks away from your door and hopefully out of your life. He always was and always will be an asshole. You had dated him for the fun of it after he made a move on you at a party, and all of your friends had insisted that you ‘’try him out,’’ whatever the fuck that meant.

But still, his words make you remember just how lonely and untouched you are.

Sagging against your sofa in front of your window, you push your pants down your hips, spreading your legs apart slightly as your hands slide down your body. Your fingers circle your clit, quick, short movements that leave you quivering slightly and clenching down on empty air.

You think of the guy from the bookstore. His handsome features with his sharp facial structure, puffy eyes, and rosy plump lips. He’s ethereal, a fairy. His voice was soft and just a bit high pitched. You think of how tempting he looked, clad in a soft sweater and dark jeans that showed off his thighs and ass. You bite your lip as your thighs close around your arm.

You come with a cracking moan, your eyes fluttering shut as you shake slightly from the pleasure.

You sail down from your peak, crashing back into sobriety that leaves you feeling more empty and more guilty. God, you really are pathetic, aren't you? Fucking yourself to a guy you barely even know, barely even talked to.

Wiping your fingers on a tissue and pulling your pants back up, you stand up and walk away from your spot by the window, having forgotten that you had left the curtains open.

Jimin had seen the whole thing from his hidden spot across the street, and he softly moans to himself as he rubs himself hard through his jeans. Fuck, you look so, so pretty when you come. If only you weren't thinking about that jerk ass who had come to your door.

Jimin comes hard, groaning softly into the fabric of his coat as images of fucking you and how good he would make you feel overtake his mind. He sags against the rough brick wall of the building across from yours, his chest heaving, and he makes up his mind right then and there.

He would do something to make you forget about that jerk ass. He would do anything for you after all.

Choi Seojun, the man plastered over your Twitter for a solid six months, would be hard to get rid of, with his status as an esteemed rich party boy and your ex-boyfriend.

But for you, Jimin would do anything.

After all, in the end, it was you. Him. And the word Us.

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chipper9906 · 3 years

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Bound To You - Chapter 2: A Dream Inside A Nightmare

<--- Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 15

NOTE: Pairings and Ratings Will Change As Story Is Updated

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 7,453

Overall Word Count: 11,622

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Progress (2/?)

Chapter Preview:

His dreams of Purgatory were never dreams. They were nightmares. And no matter how hard he tries, no matter the real outcome of his time in Purgatory… he never reaches his goal.

Which is why, perhaps, what happens next in the dream has the weapon sliding out of his numbed hands, hitting the floor with a wet ‘thud’. Because this never happened.

In all of his dreams of Purgatory… he never finds…

“Cas?”

Link To Fic

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Character Key For Telepathic Conversations

'Italic Text' - Castiel

'Bold Text' - Dean

* * *

The skies had opened, pouring down buckets of rain that made it even harder to see through the bleakness of the night. Sam hunched his shoulders up, hands shoved into his jeans pockets as he stepped out from the warmth of the hospital and into the chilling rain.

Thankfully, the doctor (he was a Doctor, as it turned out) didn’t have too many questions for him. Mostly, he just wanted to get a better understanding of the extent of damage that had been inflicted upon Dean. When he started digging a bit further into the supposed ‘thieves’ that had broken into his ‘family barn’, Sam was able to escape from the situation with the excuse of finally calling the police to deal with the situation – which, technically, he was heading to do right now.

He was meant to go back for the others, get them out of that nightmare and back to safety. But… he couldn’t. He couldn’t go back there, see the bodies that littered the floor, see… see where his brother’s blood has dried into the ground.

Cars passed by him on the road, a blur of taillights and obnoxiously bright LED’s. So many strangers whose only experience of him is a brief image of a soaked man walking in the rain, never to know of the stories he held, of the lengths he went to ensure they get to experience their lives without the pain he holds.

The phonebooth he steps isn’t much warmer than the outside, but it does at least provide him with a brief respite from the pouring rain. Sam brings the receiver to his ear, sliding a few quarters into the coin slot and jamming his large fingers into the buttons, dialing for 911. His eyes slide shut as the dull tones of the phone ringing fill his ear, waiting to hear a voice on the other end.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” The woman’s voice on the line is calm and soothing, the vigorous training the operators must go through clearly working.

“Hi, uh…” Sam raises his other hand to rub across his forehead, choosing his words carefully. It wasn’t too difficult to amplify the tremble that was already in his voice. “I, um… I was walking my dog through a farmer’s field and I heard screaming coming from this barn. My dog pulled me towards it and… there’s a bunch of bodies here.”

Sam could hear the operator clicking away at her keyboard. “Do you know your location, Sir?”

“Yeah, it’s uh… I’m not too far out of Canton, somewhere around-,” Sam spiels out the exact location of the barn – of course, he wouldn’t ever forget where it is – the only response from the operator for a few more seconds being the tip-tap of her fingers on the keyboard; likely preparing to send out a unit.

“You said you heard screaming? I need you to try and check if anyone's still alive, okay? See if they're breathing, check for a pulse if you can.”

“There’s…” Sam paused, fighting back the tears that burnt beneath his eyelids. He had left him there… had he really left those children there? “There’s kids here. They’re alive.”

“Are they injured?” The operator asks.

“No, but… they’re pretty shaken up.”

“Okay Sir, I have a unit of officers and an ambulance already on the way to you, okay? I need you to stay with the children for me, the officers will need to take a statement for you when they-,”

Sam pulls the phone away from his ear, the operator's words fading away and cutting off completely once he places the phone back onto the hook. It was better this way, he reasoned with himself. The police would take care of the situation, would make sure the children got to where they needed to be. There wasn’t much help he could provide that the police wouldn’t be able to.

At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself to push down the guilt that was clawing its way to the surface.

Sam dropped his head back into the graffiti-covered plexiglass of the booth, the exhaustion of the evening beginning to take its toll now the adrenaline was wearing off. He knew he should be rushing back into the hospital now, pacing up and down the corridor as he waited for the doctor’s news. But his legs weren’t listening to his head. He felt glued in place. He didn’t want to go back into the hospital.

Because the doctors can’t reach him here. If he stays here, the Doctors won’t be able to tell him that Dean didn’t make it. Because that way, his brother will still be alive.

Won’t he?

Sam’s phone buzzes from within his jean pocket. Two short vibrations – a text message, not a call. Sam sighs quietly to himself, not ready to face anyone just yet. Still, he digs in his pocket for his phone, pulling it out from its confines and swiping his thumb across the screen, waiting for it to light up.

The phone nearly slips out of his hands at the name on the screen.

‘Message Received - 11:27PM’

Eileen: ‘Did… did you steal my truck?’

There’s nothing he can do but stare down at his phone as the shock took over. It… it was a joke, right? It had to be. Eileen was gone, he knew that… they had been there to discover her discarded belongings on the pavement, the keyboard still open on her phone just as Chuck had snapped her away, just as he had everyone else.

And yet… here was a new message from Eileen on his phone. Just a little over two weeks from the last message. Sam clicks on the chat bubble, opening up the conversation and tapping rapidly across his phone’s keyboard.

‘Message Sent – 11:31PM’

Sam: ‘I don’t understand. Is that really you?’

‘Message Received – 11:32PM’

Eileen: ‘I think I’m me. I’m not sure what happened. One second I feel myself fading away, the next I’m right back here. Everything’s gone except my phone was still in my pocket, and… it’s been two weeks? I don’t remember anything, Sam.’

Eileen’s answers were only raising more questions. He had taken Eileen’s phone with him after they had found it. It should be on top of his dresser table back at the bunker, where it’s remained for the past two weeks. And now Eileen was back and, what – it had somehow teleported back to her, also somehow completely recharged when he knew full well its battery had died a few days after he had found it? None of this made any sense.

‘Message Sent – 11:33PM’

Sam: ‘Where are you? Are you safe?’

‘Message Received – 11:35PM’

Eileen: ‘I think I’m safe, but I’m still… where I was placed back? I’m still right outside home. It’s like I blinked, and two weeks have gone by. I haven’t moved an inch from where I was. I don’t get what’s happened, Sam. I kind of hoped you might have some idea.’

What was he going to do now? Every fiber of his being wanted to hop back into the Impala and race back over to Eileen. He couldn’t do that, though. Not when he knows Dean is just across the road, bound to a table and surrounded by scalpel wielding doctors, fighting for his life.

And worst of all… what if this wasn’t Eileen? He so wants to give in to the hope that something good has happened for once, to just take the lucky break he’s been given in the middle of this nightmare… but that just doesn’t happen for him. For them.

‘Message Sent – 11:38PM’

Sam: ‘Any chance you know how to hotwire a car?’

‘Message Received – 11:40PM’

Eileen: ’I’m honestly insulted you need to ask me that.’

Sam couldn’t help but crack a smile at that. The first he’s had in this hellish evening… Eileen did always manage to make him smile, even when the world was bearing down on him.

‘Message Received – 11:41PM’

Eileen: ‘I should be on the road in about ten minutes. Are you guys back at the bunker?’

‘Message Sent – 11:42PM’

Sam: ‘No, we’re not. We’re at Aultman Hospital in Canton. It’s Dean. I don’t know if he’s going to make it.’

‘Message Received – 11:43PM’

Eileen: ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

The little dot next to her name shifted from green to grey, signaling she was offline. Sam continued to stare down at the conversation, expecting it to vanish from his phone at any second. It was… it was real. Her messages were right in front of him, and yet, the pessimistic side of his brain was telling him not to expect for her to show up. Some sort of hallucination brought on by the trauma of this evening. A semblance of hope for his grief addled mind to cling onto.

Hope can go a hell of a long way. And if that hope is strong enough to force him out of that phonebooth and back towards the hospital, then well…

He’ll hold onto that hope for just a little while longer.

* * *

The sounds of the hospital were repetitive, a constant cycle of sounds that faded into background noise. The shrill ringing of the phone at the reception, muffled coughs and sniffles of waiting patients, the occasional creak of a chair as someone shuffles around, surprisingly light footsteps of the staff heading up and down the hallways on their busy schedule.

The Styrofoam cup of bland coffee in his hands and long since gone cold. He had only managed to force down a few sips, his nerves twisting his stomach and making the drink unbearable to choke down.

Waiting was the worst part, Sam decided. Once they tell you the outcome… there’s not much else you can do. It’s the in-between part, where half of your mind is already starting the grieving process, whilst the other side is clinging to the belief that they’re going to pull through no matter what.

“Mr. Winchester?”

Sam’s head shot up, the doctor from earlier looking at him expectantly. Sam sprung up to his feet, very nearly throwing his stale cup of coffee all over the recently mopped hallway floors. The doctor held up a hand to stop him, gesturing for Sam to sit back down. This did nothing to soothe nerves. That wasn’t a good sign, was it? Wanting him to remain seated? Don’t they only do that when it’s bad news?

Sam dropped himself back down into the hard-plastic seat, trembling hands placing his coffee down on the floor by his feet. The exhausted-looking doctor sat down in the seat next to him, turning to face him.

“Mr. Winchester, I have to be completely honest with you here; From a medical standpoint, your brother should be dead. I’m a man of science, but the only explanation I have for your brother is that of divine intervention.”

It took a few moments for the doctors’ words to sink in. He had been expecting to hear the complete opposite, so hearing this instead had sent his brain through a loop. Dean was alive. Dean was alive.

“He made it? He - Dean’s going to be okay?”

The doctor cracked a warm smile at his words. It must be nice to be the one to sit down with a family member and give them good news. “Your stitch work is partly to thank for that, Mr. Winchester. Dean’s blood loss was extreme, to say the least, but he wouldn’t have even made it to the hospital without your intervention. The surgeons were very impressed with your abilities – do you happen to have previous medical experience?”

“Uh… a little,” That wasn’t a complete lie. He’s sewn up himself and Dean more times than he can count.

“Well, we were impressed. But mostly Mr. Winchester… we’re baffled.”

“By what?” Sam dared to ask.

The doctor opened his mouth to speak, a perplexed frown etched across his face. He shut his mouth again, giving a small shake of his head before continuing. “We truly don’t have an explanation for how your brother survived his injuries. Based on your description and the location and angle of the entry wound… that rebar should have at the very least pierced a lung, perhaps even his heart. The surgeons went in expecting this, but… there was nothing. Somehow, all his major organs were unscathed.”

“So, what does this mean for Dean? How bad is the rest of the damage?”

“Well, as you can expect, a lot of the muscle around Dean’s spine has been significantly damaged. We did all we could to repair as much as the damage we could, but there’s not much else you can do but wait for the body to heal itself.

Your brother’s currently going through another blood transfusion to replace what he’s lost. He’s still incredibly weak from the surgery, and we’ll have to keep a careful eye on him over the night. But if he makes it through to the morning… I think we can safely say your brother will recover.”

“Can… Can I see him?”

The sight of the doctor shaking his head made Sam’s heart sink a little. “I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester. Your brothers at a very vulnerable stage right now, and it’s important for our staff to be able to reach him as quickly as they can.”

Sam knew this was the doctor’s kind way of saying “you’ll just be in the way”, but he understands. If he has to wait a little while longer in exchange for his brother’s life… he can be patient.

“I… thank you, Doctor I don’t think I can thank you enough.”

The doctor shot him a small smile, but it soon began to waver. Sam picked up on the hesitation coming from the doctor, feeling his brief moment of relief come to an end.

“What? What is it?”

“There’s something else,” The doctor admitted. That’s when Sam noticed the clipboard in the Doctor’s hand, recognizing the familiar glossy sheen of an x-ray document. The doctor handed the x-ray over to him, and even without the doctor's intervention, Sam couldn’t immediately see the horrific damage.

“Whilst your brother somehow managed to avoid any damage to his organs, I’m afraid the same cant be said for his spine. The rebar was pushed in between the vertebrae, just below the thoracic lumbar. As you can see, a few of the vertebrae were shattered from the impact. Unfortunately, the damage was severe enough to severe the spinal cord along with it.”

Sam knew what this meant. Logically, he knew what the Doctor was telling him. He just… he couldn’t believe it. They had to have got it wrong.

“What does this mean for Dean?”

“We’ll have to wait until your brother wakes up to perform more tests, but… the most likely case? Your brother will be paralyzed from below the injury. Mr. Winchester, I need you to remember how fortunate it is for your brother to even be alive in the first place. And, judging by the location of the break, your brother should still retain control over his arms. I can’t guarantee anything of course, but I’m hopeful.”

He didn’t know what to say in response to that. It seemed like the doctor didn’t expect him to either, for he leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder with an understanding look in his eyes. “I’ll give you some time with your thoughts. As a doctor, I recommend you get home or get a hotel room and get some sleep. But as a brother myself, I know you’re not going to do that. I’ll be the first to let you know when you can see him, okay? As soon as it’s safe, I’ll come get you. I promise.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Sam uttered almost silently, eyes fixated to the image of his brother's shattered spine in his lap. The doctor's hand disappeared from his shoulder, and when Sam next looked up, the seat beside him was empty again.

This was a challenge he wasn’t sure how to approach. Even now it doesn’t seem real, even after all that’s happened. There had to be something, right? Some sort of spell, some kind of document hidden away in the Men of Letters files that could fix this. Crazier stuff than this had happened before, and there was always something that could help. Surely a medical miracle wouldn’t be too hard to find…

His phone vibrated against his leg, ripping Sam out of his thoughts. He pulled it out from his pockets, swiping a thumb across the screen to unlock it.

‘Message Received 3:12AM’

Eileen: ‘Pulling into the hospital now. Are you in the waiting room?’

Sam didn’t even bother replying to the message. His feet were carrying him down the hallway in mere seconds, hurriedly shoving his phone back into his pocket as he sprinted towards the hospital's entrance. The rain had yet to let up, soaking into his jacket the second he stepped foot outside. He stared desperately into the darkness of the parking lot, pushing his drenched hair out from his face as his head whipped back and forth.

And then… there she was.

She was hurrying through the parking lot, holding her olive- green jacket over her head to shelter her from some of the rain. Eileen seemed almost as surprised to see him as he was to see her, her pace faltering somewhat as her gaze landed on him. He could see her mouth his name from where he was stood, unable to hear her yet and yet he could tell she had uttered his name in disbelief.

Sam broke out into a sprint, kicking up sprays of water as he pushed through the puddles that had formed across the tarmac. Eileen’s face broke out into a beaming smile, one he knew he was mirroring right back at her. The two crashed into one another, Sam pulling the smaller woman into his chest and enveloping her with his large frame, wrapping his arms around her. She was real and warm underneath his hands, solid and alive. Eileen’s arms had snaked around his waist, her face buried into the soaked material of his shirt, not bothered by its dampness in the slightest.

‘It’s you,’ Sam unsteadily signed to her once she had pulled away, more than likely getting a few of the hand signals wrong, unable to wipe the relieved smile from his face. He couldn’t tell if the wetness on his face was entirely from the rain.

“It’s me,” Eileen reassured him, a comforting hand wrapped around his bicep. “I see the world hasn’t ended.”

Sam almost laughed. Almost. “I’m not too sure about that just yet.”

His words wiped the joking smile from Eileen’s face. “Sam… what happened?”

* * *

The hospital's canteen was closed at this hour, the only service available being the self-service coffee machine. The room was practically empty, with just the occasional staff member or visitor milling about to pour themselves a cup of coffee. Sam and Eileen were the only occupants of the metal tables, the two sat opposite with matching cups of luke-warm coffee sat in front of them.

“Wow…” Eileen breathed out, blinking rapidly in a daze down at her coffee. “So, Chuck is human now?”

“Far as I’m aware,” Sam answered. “He was when we left him, anyway.”

“And now Jack is the new God? How does that work?”

“Honestly? I have no clue.” Sam replied. “Things are going to go back to the way they were, I suppose. He won’t step in or anything like that, he’s just… working behind the scenes.”

“Work? What kind of work?”

“Wish I knew. He vanished and… that’s the last we saw of him.” Sam turned sad eyes down to his cup, picking it up and taking a timid sip of the bitter liquid. Tasted as awful as the last cup…

“…and Cas?”

Sam’s stomach twisted uncomfortably again. “Gone… Not long after… after you… I didn’t even get to say goodbye to him. Dean, he… he doesn’t talk much about what happened. I didn’t want to pry, thought it’d be good to try and get back into the swing of things, take his mind off everything. And now…”

“Hey, don’t do that,” Eileen snapped curtly, making Sam startle. “Don’t start blaming yourself for this. It’s not like you forced Dean into this hunt. It went wrong – it happens.”

“I know… but this is… this is something different, Eileen. He’s… I don’t think Dean’s going to react well to this. I don’t think he ever pictured a future where he’s… he’s…”

“He’ll be thankful to be alive,” Eileen asserted. “Everything else, all the bad that comes from this, we’ll deal with it together.”

The corner of Sam’s lips curved into a subtle smile, his fingers tapping a random rhythm against the cool metal surface of the table as he thought. “There’s… there’s something else.”

Eileen looked to him cautiously. “Something else as in ‘another threat to the world’ or…”

“About Dean,” Sam answered. “When you said he should be thankful to be alive… well, that’s the thing. He shouldn’t be. The damage it should have done… it just wasn’t there.”

“How? Are you saying he somehow healed himself?”

Sam shuffled closer across the table, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. “When I got to Dean… there was this light emitting from the wound. Eileen, I saw his body stitch itself back together. But it didn’t heal him completely. It seemed almost alive, like it was struggling as it healed him.”

“That’s… how is that even possible? A spell?”

“Maybe? Except, I know for sure Dean doesn’t dabble in magic, and I don’t see why some random witch would give Dean a life-saving spell. I mean, those things take a lot of effort, not to mention costly and hard to find ingredients. I’ve seen this light before. I think… I think Dean isn’t entirely himself.”

“…What do you mean?”

“I think Dean’s being possessed.”

“What? By who?”

“That’s what we need to find out,” Sam stressed. “Cas told us there were barely any angels left in Heaven, and I can't see any of them being willing to fly down here and help Dean – and there’s no way Dean would let one of them possess him. He just… he wouldn’t risk it.”

“I know you said he was dead, but… Is there any chance it’s Michael? Maybe he’s not even possessing Dean. Angels leave behind some of their grace in their vessels, right? Maybe Dean found a way to use the left-over grace to heal himself.”

“I don’t think so,” Sam disputed. “Unless Dean knows something I don’t, humans shouldn’t be able to access an angel's grace. It’s not like you can tell it there or anything, at least – I couldn’t tell with Lucifer or Gadreel.”

“Okay, so… maybe it’s not an angel?”

“Doesn’t look like demon possession,” Sam said. “You don’t see demons healing their vessels often… then again, a lot of them kill whoever they possessing anyway, so why would they bother? There’s just something about that light though… it looked too… angel to be anything else.”

“Unless it’s a demon trying to trick you,” Eileen pointed out. “They might be trying to lay low, hope you won’t act too brash if you think it’s an angel instead of a demon.”

“But why would a demon heal my brother?” Sam stressed, leaning closer to Eileen over the table. “And why would they have to ‘lie low?’”

“Didn’t you say Hell is under a new regime? I can’t imagine every demon down there is on board with the changes. You and Dean are probably like beacons to those demons at this point; I wouldn’t be surprised if they kept tabs on the both of you. All it would take is one rebellious demon to sense Dean’s vulnerability when he was injured and… took the opportunity.”

“Maybe… but even then, why wouldn’t whatever’s possessing Dean heal him completely? Whatever it is, it saved his life, but… it was like it didn’t have the energy left to heal everything else. I mean, I can’t imagine a demon wanting to use a vessel that’s… that’s paralyzed…”

“Do you think… this is going to be something bigger? Bigger than just us, again?” Eileen asked timidly.

Sam huffed out a dry laugh, letting his gaze drop down to the coffee in his hands. “You mean like ‘apocalypse’ big? I don’t think so. At least, I hope not… Look, I’m… I don’t want to be the guy to look a gift horse in the mouth, you know? For some reason, something stepped in and saved Dean. But I can’t just ignore the reason as to why.”

Eileen nodded her head slowly in agreement. “So… what are we going to do?”

“The only thing we can do,” Sam slowly peeled back his jacket, giving Eileen a glimpse of the angel blade neatly tucked away within the interior. “We test him.”

* * *

When Dean opens his eyes, it’s to the sight of a gray murky sky, most of his vision blocked by the long, tangling branches of the trees that hung over him, stretching out like sharp fingers reaching out to one another.

He was on his back, he realized; the cold dampness of the leaves under his back quickly soaking into his jacket. Dean pulls himself up into a sitting position with a groan, twisting his body to get a good look at his surroundings.

Ah… it was this dream again.

The forest around him was alive in the worst way possible. Filled to the brim with all sorts of starving, blood-thirsty creatures, left to hunt one another for all of eternity. He already knew they were all around him, out of sight but their presence always keenly felt.

It’s only once he pulls himself to his feet that he feels a heavy weight resting in his hand that certainly wasn’t there before. His hand-crafted weapon had seemingly materialized into his hands out of thin air, which was on-par for his dreams of Purgatory. They were the same practically every time he had them; wake up, find his weapon, kill. But there was always one goal in these dreams, one hope that kept him going…

But that was the thing. His dreams of Purgatory were never dreams. They were nightmares. And no matter how hard he tries, no matter the real outcome of his time in Purgatory… he never reaches his goal.

Which is why, perhaps, what happens next in the dream has the weapon sliding out of his numbed hands, hitting the floor with a wet ‘thud’. Because this never happened.

In all of his dreams of Purgatory… he never finds…

“Cas?”

Castiel looked exactly as he did the last time Dean saw him – well, perhaps not exactly like last time. He certainly didn’t look like the Cas he found in Purgatory; his beige trench coat was clean and pristine, not even a wrinkle to be seen on his azure blue tie, the color popping bright in the bland colors of Purgatory. His face was pretty much clean-shaven, only the slightest of hints of a five o’clock shadow brushed across his face.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Is the first thing to slip from Dean’s mouth, keeping a few cautious steps away from the memory of Cas that his brain had for some reason decided to place into his dream.

Castiel gives him a sad smile, ducking his head to avoid Dean’s questioning gaze. “I know I’m not supposed to be here. But it was the only solution at the time.”

“What?” Dean blurted out, his head rearing back in confusion. “No, it’s… I don’t get it…”

Castiel looked equally as befuddled as Dean now, face creasing with worry at the sight of Dean’s uncertainty. “You don’t get what?”

“This… this isn’t how the dream is supposed to go,” Dean insists. “It never changes. The dream never changes. I’m always trying to find you, trying to get you out of here. But every time… I fail. I never get to you in time, and the times I do find you… They get to you first.”

Understanding flooded through Castiel, the worry on his face quickly changing to a look Dean knew to be pity. “Dean… this isn’t a dream. Not anymore, at least.”

“The hell you talking about?”

“I suppose it’s possible your brain is trying to block it out… I just didn’t think it would be to this extent.”

“Alright, that’s it-,” Dean snapped, storming back over to where he dropped his weapon and snatching it from the floor. He flipped it in his hands, gripping the handle tight and pointing the end of the bone blade at whatever the hell had taken up Castiel’s form. “I don’t know if you were made by my own mind, or if something else is at play here, but this is fucked up. You don’t get to use him like this. You don’t get to stand there, pretend to be my dead best friend, you son of a bitch. I’m waking up-,”

“You can’t,” Castiel interrupted softly. “Not yet, anyway. Soon though, if I’m correct.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean challenged, waving the weapon in front of Cas’s face. “And how do you know that?”

The forest around him changed. His vision flickered, everything becoming almost… staticky in appearance. Dean blinked, and Purgatory was gone. Now the concrete walls of the bunker surrounded him, seemingly teleported into the central area of the bunker. Castiel stood awkwardly by the map table, keeping an apprehensive eye on Dean.

“What in the-,”

“Dean, you need to remember what happened last night,” Castiel insisted, taking a chance and stepping closer to Dean. “You and Sam were on a hunt. Vampire nest, by the looks of it. But something happened. Something went wrong, and you were hurt.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re-,”

The memories hit him like a tidal wave, drowning him in agonizing pain. They flash through his mind rapidly, forcing him to drop down on his knees, hitting the floor hard. There was a hunt. It had gone wrong. Very wrong. The rebar… it was like he could still feel it impaled through his chest, could still hear his gurgles, choking on his blood.

He remembered… He was dying. And he prayed. He had prayed to Castiel, hadn’t he? And then there was that… that thing. This horrifying figure dripping with shadowy sludge that reached out for him, two gigantic and shattered wings unfurling over it’s back, stretching out in what once must have been an impressive display.

And… eyes. Blue eyes. Glowing deep within the seemingly never-ending darkness of the creature’s face, they emitted a visceral power, and yet… he had seen them before.

Dean lifts his head from his chest, his vision out of focus as things begin to click together in his mind. When his vision comes back into focus, it’s to the sight of Cas crouched down in front of him, a comforting hand resting on his left shoulder.

“You’re… you’re not part of my dream…?”

“No,” Castiel answered softly.

“It’s… it’s you?”

The edge of Castiel’s lips barely curled into a smile, giving Dean a gentle nod in response. Dean could only stare wide-eyed at Cas for a few moments, just waiting to snap awake back in his bed surrounded by empty bottles of booze, tricked by yet another cruel dream his mind liked to torture him with.

Dean lifted a tentative hand between the two of them, pushing it forward and gently resting his palm on Castiel’s chest. There was no heartbeat under his palm, but a flow of pulsating, warm, static-like energy that rested just underneath his skin, eagerly pressing itself against Dean’s prying hands. Dean lifted his eyes up to meet Cas’s, his mouth opening and closing uselessly as a million thoughts raced through his head. Dean’s hand shifts up, sliding up past Castiel’s neck and caressing across the side of his face, the sharp burn of stubble rubbing against Dean’s skin as he moves. The touch elicited another subtle smile from Cas, the angel patiently waiting for Dean to finish his inspection.

“Cas?” Dean breathes out his name in dumbfoundment, his fingers scrunching into the soft collar of Cas’s trench coat.

“Hello, Dean.”

That was all Dean needed to hear. He pulled Castiel closer by the lapel of his trench coat, the unexpected pull sending Cas off-kilter, all but crashing into the hug Dean pulled him into. Dean squeezed him tight like he might vanish if he doesn’t hold him close enough, fingers digging into his trench coat so hard that Cas could feel them scraping against his back.

“You dumb son of a bitch,” Dean whispers shakily against Cas’s neck, squeezing him tighter. “You left me. Right when I… right when we needed you most.”

“I know,” Castiel utters softly in return. “I’m sorry. But If I had to, I’d do it all again. It was the only way to keep you safe.”

“You should have told us earlier,” Dean broke their embrace, squeezing Cas’s arm more in frustration now. “We could have figured something out, Cas. Got you out of that deal somehow…”

“And if you had, Billie would have knocked down that door and killed us both anyway,” Cas pointed out. “I would have been dragged to the Empty, and you would have been reaped.”

Cas began pulling him up to his feet, faintly tugging at his arm to get him to stand. Dean followed, getting a leg underneath him, leaning his weight on Cas for support to stand. Cas led him over to the map table, hovering nearby as he waited for Dean to drop himself down into one of the chairs before taking a seat himself opposite.

“So… this is all in my head right now?”

Castiel nodded. “You’re dreaming, technically. This is the only way I can interact with you in this form, face to face. I hope you don’t mind, but I changed the setting of your dream. I thought it might be more peaceful to talk in a place where you feel safe.”

“And you can do that because… you’re in my head… Holy - - I said yes, didn’t I? You’re… you’re possessing me?”

“I am,” Castiel answered. “It was the only way for me to heal you. It would have been impossible to do so outside of my body.”

“Cas, you’ve gotta explain some more of this to me man, because I don’t understand how… I mean, you were gone. I saw it. I saw you just… it took you. How the hell did you get out?”

Castiel kept his eyes trained on his hands, folded together in front of him on the table, his index finger tapping anxiously against his other hand. “Because of you.”

“…What?”

“It’s only happened once before, as far as I know. And that was with Nick.”

“Nick? Like… ‘Lucifer’, Nick?”

“Yes… It’s… it’s very rare for an angel to be killed, but have the vessel survive. And it’s even rarer to have the surviving vessel miss being possessed. Nick's longing to have Lucifer back was so intense that it breached through to the Empty, waking Lucifer from his eternal slumber. When I awoke in the Empty the last time, I assumed it was just Jack’s power that had breached through. But Nick proved that you don’t need power to do so. And now… so have you.”

“Oh…” Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, subconsciously leaning away, putting a little bit of extra distance between him and Cas. “So… My prayer woke you up?”

“Your prayer. Your longing. Your pain in what you perceived to be your last moments… It was strong enough that not even the Empty itself could keep it quiet.”

“Huh…" Dean said brightly. "Bet the Empty’s pissed you got out again.”

Castiel huffed a hushed laugh. “I’d imagine so, yes… It was definitely trying it’s best to keep me there when the portal opened.”

The two of them shared soft , easy smiles across the table. Dean wanted to take the time to enjoy this peaceful moment between the two of them before his life collapsed into chaos again. Which it undoubtedly will, because since when do they ever catch a break?

“How many times you gonna save my life, Cas? Somehow even after death, you’re dragging my ass out of the fire…”

“Since when does death stop us?” Castiel refuted, a point Dean couldn’t help but agree with. “Besides, it’s what we do, isn’t it? We save each other.”

“Yeah… Yeah, it is… Cas, I… I wanted to find a way to get you out of there. You know that, right? I mean, after you were gone, I… me and Sammy were ready to throw in the towel if it meant Chuck would stop, if he’d bring everyone back, bring you back… But then I kept hearing your words in my head. I kept thinking about how you did that, for me. And no matter how much I wanted to get you out, I knew deep down that trying to would get me killed. Because I’d be so desperate to find you, I wouldn’t know when to stop, when to call it quits. And If I got myself killed like that after you gave yourself up for me… it would be such an insult to you. I couldn’t do that….”

“It’s okay,” Castiel assured him, nothing but sincerity in his voice. “I did what I did because I knew our best chance at defeating Chuck was with you. I did it, because… I wanted you to live the life you deserve. Not the one Chuck had written out for you, not the one you thought you should be living, or the one you forced yourself into thinking you wanted… I wanted you to truly decide what life you wanted to live… and live it.”

“Yeah, well… I tried. I wasn’t coping too well after… y’know. Thought a good ol’ fashioned hunt would distract me for a while. No God to fight, just plain Vampires. You saw how that ended up…”

“I had hoped that Jack might step in to intervene. I could sense his power the second I pulled myself free from the Empty. Jack is… he’s more powerful than any being that has ever existed now. The combined power of two Gods, along with his own? I just… I don’t understand why he wouldn’t help you.”

Dean could only shrug his shoulders in response. “Jack said he wasn’t going to be ‘hands-on’ with the world. Guess he meant it. No more second chances.”

“Ah… then I suppose we’ve broken the rules again?”

“Well, Jack hasn’t smited us on the spot for it… so I guess he can’t be too pissed?”

“Exasperated, maybe.” Castiel countered with a tired smile.

“Alright-,” Dean gave the table a small slap, the action getting him a questioning eyebrow raise from Cas. “What’s the plan now, Cas? You gonna hop out of me, find some poor devout sucker willing to take you in?”

The smile slipped away from Cas’s face, which made the care-free attitude Dean had settled into melt away and be replaced with a familiar worry.

“Dean… I can’t….”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Dean asked.

“I can’t force an innocent person into that existence again, Dean. With Jimmy… he had been so happy when I first took control. So certain he had been chosen, that he was special. I didn’t care back then. He was just… my vessel. A tool for me to perform my duties on Earth. I know now of the torture he had been through, the intense regret had ever felt for saying ‘yes’. Now Jimmy’s soul rests in heaven, and his body… his body hasn’t been his in some time now. I had lived as a human in his vessel, Dean. Now… this body? This is my body. It’s as much a part of me that my true form is.”

“Okay, so… where is Jimmy’s body? Last time you came back from the Empty, you had your vessel didn’t you?”

“Because of Jack,” Castiel replied. “His powers meant I had come to in the Empty within the vessel I was possessing. This time… you saw what the Empty did to me as it took me. It broke me apart, atom by atom until I became… nothing. Nothing but Empty.”

“You saying your body is just gone?” Dean spluttered.

“It was destroyed, yes.”

“Can’t you just… I don’t know, use your grace and make it again?”

“No. I can’t. It’s... it’s another reason why I can’t just possess another vessel. My grace… it’s been fading. I’m not sure if it was Chuck’s intervention, or with the state Heaven’s in… perhaps both. But… Dean, I used nearly all of my grace to keep you alive. The small amount I have left is what’s keeping me tethered to you. The effort it would take to leave you and locate a vessel that could occupy me, to speak with them and then take possession… the effort would burn through what’s left of my grace.”

Dean dropped his head down, scrunching his eyes as his hand came up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “Dammit, Cas… if you knew that was going to happen, you shouldn’t have-,”

“Healed you?” Castiel finished Dean’s sentence, voice dripping with disbelief. “I think we both know that’s not an option.”

“Yeah, and now what? You’re gonna be trapped in my head, Cas. How long? The rest of my life? Can I even die while you’re possessing me?”

“Eventually, yes. My grace would burn out trying to keep you alive as you age.”

“Fuck… Okay, okay… we’ll figure something out.” Dean muttered, tapping anxious fingers against the glass top of the map table.

“Like what?” Castiel asked, clearly not too confident in Dean's plan making abilities.

“Like… I dunno, Cas. I’ll wake up, and me and Sam will tear apart the bunker trying to find something… There’s got to be some way to repair your body, or… or make a new one. An empty vessel.”

“Dean… I don’t think-,”

“No offense Cas, but damn nearly every time you’ve said, ‘I don’t think we can do that’, we find a way to do it anyway.” Dean jabbed a finger at Cas as he spoke. “If we can find a way to recreate your body, would you be able to jump into it without using up the rest of your mojo?”

“I… I suppose so,” Cas answered, not sounding too sure in his answer. “If it was a recreation of Jimmy’s… of my body, then yes. Seeing as I already had permission to possess the body, the amount of grace required for me to transfer over from you to the new vessel should be survivable.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Dean said with a tone of finality. “We’ll find a way, Cas. I promise you. All I’ve gotta do is… wake up.”

“Dean, there’s… there’s something else,” Castiel’s expression had shifted to something akin to guilt, no longer able to meet Dean’s gaze. “When I healed you… I only had enough grace left to heal the damage that would be fatal. The pierced chamber of your heart, your collapsed lung, and your broken ribs… but that was all I could fix before my grace had ‘ran dry’. Mine and Sam’s efforts were enough to keep you alive long enough to get medical attention, and the doctors did everything they could… but there’s some damage leftover that I can’t heal.”

Dean’s mouth felt dry, a wave of nausea flooding through him at the thought of what had been broken inside of him so badly for Cas to be this apprehensive with his answer.

“What kind of damage, Cas?”

Castiel swallowed nervously, something that Dean realized was very human of him to do. He finally lifted his eyes up from the table to meet Dean’s inquiring gaze, opening his mouth to answer. But if Castiel spoke then, Dean didn’t hear it. Everything had gone silent as Castiel disappeared in a burst of white light, exploding through the room until the bunker was all but gone, nothing left of Dean’s vision except for that intense, blinding light.

In a small private room in the ICU of Aultman Hospital, Dean Winchester awakens.

Next Chapter --->

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